#he also just looks awkward with the weird short hair and red suit

[shoechoe]

hehehehehe. diavolo

[starfa11]

There's a First Time for Everything

Word Count: 1065 Warnings: brief mentions of Peter being hurt, mostly fluff, canon violence, self-indulgent shenanigans The first time you met Peter Parker wasn’t even as Peter Parker. It was when a certain web-slinging vigilante crashed through the cafe window you worked at, frightening the customers, and effectively scaring them off. It didn’t make a great first impression that he’d successfully, accidentally ruined your work day. It also wasn’t a great impression that he’d started to bleed over your new carpet. That’s when it hit you, spiderman had just crashed through your window, and was bleeding on your carpet. That sent a jolt of white-hot electricity that was entirely fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins as you went to grab him and drag him behind the counter, murmuring “Sorries” as he muttered under his breath at the pain. After a quick, shoddy nursing job, he returned to fight and your first meet was concluded. 

The second time Peter had met you, he’d forgotten all about the first time, seeing a coffee shop that felt like home, and the pretty worker was no deterrent. He’d ordered a latte, nothing fancy, and you were so charming that he decided to forgo what he ended up deeming a usual boring coffee for latte art that had a heart on it. He really had been there to work, but when he’d gone up for a pastry the second time around, there was something about the groundedness and the weight on your shoulders that he recognized. Peter found that he enjoyed seeing the sweet light in your eyes much more than you with shaky hands and a creased forehead. He remembered the way you’d told him to have a nice day when he’d left, and he remembered your eyes, he figured he should talk to you at least once, whether that was as the him that you would find normal, or the vigilante that may or may not stroll through the door at some point soon. The third time you’d met Peter, was the second time you’d met Spider-man and he was all swagger and sweet talk as he called you sweetheart and stuck around as you closed up, and let all be damned as he laughed at the awkward new customers, the weird orders and the funny little stories that your work day lent to you. And when he left he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, called you sweetheart again, and left you feeling as scarlet as the red on his suit.  And that was that that was when Peter figured he may have harbored the smallest little crush on you. When his weeks were spent looking forward to the Fridays that he didn’t have classes so he could order a latte with a heart on it and a pastry in two separate rounds of going up to the counter, because you liked to compliment his style, or question what song he was listening to, and he liked to listen to the humming as you went about your work day. Though the humming was by no means star-striking, Peter found something so endearing about your comfortability in your space, and on patrol later that evening he remembered barely asking you to dance with him to some silly offbeat song on the radio. He barely remembered you saying yes, and he remembers how elated he was that you’d done so. What he had a clear memory of, however, was the way your eyes seemed all so amused, how they shone in the dim lights of the kitchen as everything went about outside of your cafe’s windows, the hustle and bustle of the city juxtaposing the calm quietness of the dancing and the way you always seemed to hum to whatever was on the radio. He remembered all of it, and he remembered the look on your face when he’d left like you knew something he didn’t, and for a second, he thought you might’ve.

The first time you had gone on a date with Peter Parker, he did everything right. After he asked for your phone number when he went to get his coffee and pastry, he waited until you’d been texting a short while, and then asked if you’d like to do something, like go to dinner, or see a movie. He’d been so endearingly awkward that it was difficult to say no, although you’d never wanted to. And when the day came, he brought you flowers, and seemed so scared to walk into your small apartment, but seemed so enamored by your little space and how much it felt like you that it was the most sickeningly sweet thing you’d seen in a while. You went to walk around and look at records in a sweet little record store that smelled like mothballs, lint, and faintly of cinnamon, with several lights that flickered in a yellow shade that made the entire space feel a little bit softer. After he took you to a diner, and you two had milkshakes and fries, the honey-eyed boy was adamant that you were to try fries dipped in milkshake, and was increasingly adamant that it was the best thing to be created since sliced bread. So you let him walk you home and paint the surrounding areas as yellow as he made you feel, and you let him kiss your hand and ask for another date. You let him take you out on a second date, then a fourth, then before you realized it, you’d gone on ten dates of laughter, silly inside jokes, and painting the world around you yellow with the boy you’d met for the first time, twice.

And the first time that Peter bared his soul to you, was telling you that you’d fallen for him twice. It tore you apart inside to know that this wonderful, loving boy who had danced with you in the snow as himself and behind your cafe counter as a swaggering vigilante who liked to paint your cheeks red with flustered laughter, was out risking himself. But you let him take you on another date, and you let him come to your home window so that you could patch him up. And you couldn’t believe, that Peter Benjamin Parker, for as reckless as he was, was still flirting with you while sitting on the kitchen counter, was still gazing up at you with those honey brown eyes like you were his yellows and reds.

[reneeluv154]

The man with the accent.

I hope you enjoy! 🤍🤍

In this imagine your looking for a place to stay when you find no luck Jack saves you from a drunken man as well as offering a place to stay.

I was terribly lost, this small town was bursting at the seams with people and carriages, horses and fruit stands. “Excuse me, can I help you?” A rather short man with short brunette hair, thick sideburns, and a somewhat smug look asked. He wore a tall black hat, with a black jacket and leather gloves to match. A gray button-down suit with a white shirt underneath. A cloth wrapped around his neck, his shoes were nice and polished, he didn’t fit in.

“Well I came here hoping to find shelter, you see I-“

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m not all worried about that but-“ He paused, pulling a golden-backed pocket watch out of his suit pocket and checking the time.

“You might as well hurry, the men get quite restless.”

He gave a small inconsiderate smile before walking off toward a vendor. I was disgusted, how could someone say such a thing?

The sun had now set, leaving the stars and moon to take the sky. The only light in town came from the old pub in front of me. The only way I was going to find a place to stay was if I went in there and searched for somebody. The only people I had seen come in and out of the place were men.

Walking in, there were plenty of people, some were hollering while others were singing and some were simply enjoying a beer with a friend or two.I noticed the woman serving drinks.

“Excuse me, mam?”

“Oh, hi sweetheart I’ll be with you in just a moment .”

“I was just wondering if you had a place for me to stay. Just for the night.”

“I’m afraid all the rooms are filled.”

I didn’t exactly understand but she wasn’t quite in the talking mood, with the men ordering beers, whiskey, and rum left and right.I walked further into the mess of people feeling awkward and vulnerable.

“Hey, baby. How about you take me back and give me something special.” The man reeked of rum and cigarettes, clutching my arm tightly while stumbling about.

“I’m sorry I think you have the wrong person.” It was more of a question than a statement.

“Oh come on.” He tried tugging me with him to the back of the bar but I resisted, I was thoroughly shocked by his strength.

“Please let me go.” I was trying to be nice but also pleaded with him, attempting to pry his hand off.

“Leave her alone Gale.” This voice was different from any of the others I had heard, it was weird, I had never heard anything like it.

“Oh come on, it's her job.” The man huffed, tightening his grip and tugging on me harder.

“No. Gale, it’s not, this young lady does not work here.” The man with the accent came over loosening Gale’s grip immediately. Gale huffed, taking a look at me and going back to sit down by a small window.

“You can sit with us if you would like.” I followed the man with an accent as he walked over to a small rectangle table pulling a chair over for me. I sat down observing them, one at a time. The man to my left was much older than the Man with the accent, the hair on his head was gone but his beard and mustache still remained.

His natural hair color was breaking through with a bit of gray undertone. His clothes weren’t the nicest I had seen. The vest he wore over top of his stained button-up shirt with several of the buttons missing, was fraying at all the seams, a few tears here and there. The small red piece of cloth he had tied around his neck was faded as was the rest of his clothing. His suspenders holding up his light pants, a button having popped off of those as well.

The man with the accent was handsome, to say the least. His dirty blonde hair was messy from where he continued to run his hand through it while his lips were glossy from the beer in his hand. His brown eyes focused on the table as though he was trying to remember a memory far long gone. He wore a thin shirt, the puffy sleeves rolled up halfway revealing his slender arms and prominent veins. Overtop was a navy buttoned vest. His pants were brown, he wore a piece of cloth around his neck as well. His clothing was far more professional and seemingly new than the other.

“I heard you needed a place to stay. I have a hospital not too far down the street. I'm sure we could spare a room if you would like.” The man with the accent offered.

I wanted to so badly but had to think of those who truly needed that room.

“I greatly appreciate the offer but I’m sure there are plenty of others who need the room.”

“Yes but not currently, If the room is needed we will take you out and place you somewhere else safe.”

Both the men were now standing. Taking a moment to consider I agreed, walking out with the two of them and towards the hospital.

I sat on the small window sill watching the stars and the moon.

“I wouldn’t sit there, it would hurt if you fell.” That accent seemed to shock me each and every time.

“Nah, you think so?” Sarcasm spilling from my mouth.

He shook his head with a small smile. “Here’s some extra blankets it can get quite cold at night, if you need anything more just let me or one of the nurses know.”

I closed the window and latched it, going to help him spread the blankets across the bed.

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

“It’s my pleasure.” He smiled walking over to the door.

“Get some rest, I’ll probably come to check up on you tomorrow.”

I nodded leaving him to close the door and me climb into the bed, all the blankets creating a comforting weight.

There was one last thought on my mind before drifting to sleep. What was his name?

Part 2 is now on my profile.

[sixofsol]

3 wesper

3. “I’m not jealous.”

------

Jesper watched the light from the lanterns decorating the wall reflected in his glass. They had just been introduced to some important family from another part of Kerch, and now Wylan was speaking to them about- something. Jesper had tuned out, and was now slowly turning his glass, looking at the different patterns of light it created. Soon enough he picked up the tone in Wylan's voice that meant the respectable time to hold a not super interesting conversation had run out. And soon enough the family bid them a nice evening, and left them alone.

Wylan sighed, shaking out his arms a bit. It made Jesper chuckle, and Wylan looked back at him, smiling.

"Hopefully it's not long enough until it's socially acceptable for us to leave. I just want to go to sleep," Wylan said, running a hand through his hair. Jesper rubbed his back, giving his temple a kiss. "Hope this isn't too slow for you."

"How could it be when I have you to stare at?" That wasn't the full truth, and Wylan knew this. Of course. It was dull, and slow, and Jesper wished something fun would happen. Anything really, just not another mercher conversation.

"You can stare all you want when we're home, but we--" Wylan cut himself off, his mouth opening a bit as if in surprise. Immediately Jesper followed his eyes to find Wylan looking at a young man in a cream suit, with similarly colored hair. Wylan cleared his through. "We need to go speak with--"

"No, no, back up. You're not getting away from that reaction. Who's that?" Jesper asked, an amused smile on his lips.

"He-- Well, that's Pieter. He used to be my piano tutor." While Wylan spoke a red color slowly made it's way across his cheeks.

"Tutor huh?"

"Don't start anything, Jes, I swear to--"

"I won't, but I will give you a heads up that he's coming this way." Wylan's eyes went wide, and he whipped around just in time to see Pieter approach them. Jesper was barely stifling a laugh. "Pieter! Hi, it's-- it's been so long. It's very good to see you. How are you?" Wylan's short, clipped, sentences did not help Jesper's near laughter.

"I'm well, thank you. And you?"

"Me too. I am also well." At this point Jesper had seen Pieter eyeing him, so he elbowed Wylan lightly. "And this is my partner, Jesper Fahey."

Jesper reached out his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mister...?"

"van Rossum. And you too, Mister Fahey. I have to get going, I just wanted to stop by and say hello. It was good to see you again Wylan," Pieter said, before giving a nod of his head and turning away. Once again, Wylan sighed deeply. This time he buried his head in his hands, and Jesper burst out laughing when Pieter was out of ear shot.

"That was not awkward at all," Jesper mused, and Wylan just shook his head.

"Ghezen, like this night couldn't get any longer. I'm sorry, I didn't want it to be weird, but I-- it was a bit messy when we stopped seeing each other, and I didn't want you to think---"

"Wylan." He paused, looking at Jesper. “I’m not jealous. We'll go visit my da and I'll give you an even more awkward introduction to the girl I was seeing when I was 15, and we'll be even."

At this Wylan smiled, finally starting to find the humor in it all. "That does sound lovely. Let's try and get through this night first, however," Wylan said, pulling him along through the small crowds of people.

[siriannatan]

Dirty Mind - ScfWhip

I thought shortly if the title was good for what I had planned but it actually fits perfectly :}

Scott was not excited when he heard he was finally getting engaged. He knew it was expected of him as the second prince to marry and secure a good alliance but... After two hundred years he was hoping his father decided he was too old to marry... And he wouldn't probably be so against it if he wasn't as old and... But why, out of all empires, Grimlands?

How the new count was chosen was a bit lost on Scott. He understood long lines of inheritance. Not the overly complicated list of what Grimlands (and Cliff's but there it was mostly about educational prowess) considered good qualities for a ruler. From what he did understand his future husband was once a farmer but also a genius inventor and had already made a big impact. Not that Scott understood the complicated details about his inventions. 

As he waited among spiky bushes of black roses he was just hoping this 'fWhip' was at least somewhat pretty. If he was going to be stuck with a boring human it might as well be a pretty human... 

"Umm, Scott? Sorry I'm late," Or half-dragon... Why has no one told him his future husband was an adorable dragon hybrid with bright red scales and soft-looking, slightly curly, long and braided, hair? Scott would very much appreciate a warning, as he exchanged pleasant greetings with fWhip. And his voice was so pretty. And his eyes were so blue. And he was so adorably short. And in his cute, dark suit, even if he shifted constantly. 

Scott was so distracted by how pretty and cute his future husband was they spend several minutes in silence. He couldn't just randomly start gushing over how cute the guy is. That'd be weird. But he also had no idea what to talk to him about. All this tinkering and inventing wasn't something Scott knew much about or was confident he could keep up a conversation about. So he just stared at fWhip, who to Scott's relief stared back and then yawned... 

Fangs... Why didn't it come to his mind that fWhip might have those? And why did the idea of fWhip's irregular, jagged, perfectly white teeth biting him...

"I'm sorry... I stayed up a bit longer than I should..." fWhip chuckled nervously, messing with his ascot. And Scott had no idea what to do with his hands. Hug him? Apologise for being an awkward, shut-in bookworm? "I understand if I'm not quite what you imagined when this whole thing started..." fWhip was mumbling, blushing very cutely, and Scott would swear he could feel the temperature rise around them. But not unpleasantly.

"I quite frankly have no idea what I imagined when I first heard about the engagement... Certainly not a half-dragon, not that it's bad, you're..." Scott froze unsure what to say. His brain was screaming 'unreasonably attractive and cute' but that was not appropriate to say at the moment. And all his other thoughts should never leave his brain. He should never admit he wants fWhip's teeth on him as badly as he did. "I heard you're really smart and stuff, even if I don't really get all I hear it seems impressive..." Scott decided to shut up there before he said too much. He probably already did.

fWhip chuckled again, a bit more amused and less awkward. "You're not what I expected, you're not half as stuck up and cold as my sister said ice elves are," he shot Scott the most brilliant, toothy grin in the history of the world. Almost blinding him in fact. And Scott's mind was still stuck on his accursed, unfairly attractive to him teeth.

Showing all his teeth thoughts to the back of his mind Scott did his best to actually talk to fWhip. All his pretty fiance's inventions didn't sound all that complicated when it was fWhip talking about it. Even if half of his explanation - at best only half and not less - stayed in Scott's brain. Maybe this whole marriage would not be as bad. And maybe they could bring the biting thing up later on...

[ultward]

Oooo! Bella w/ short hair sounds amazing. Idk what chapter it is, but I'm excited to find it (and read your wonderful writing).

Also what inspired you to redesign the Cullens? What do they look like in your head? (Another question, what's Bella's style in addiction? Is it different from canon or somewhat similar?)

i am lucky enough to have been a book-first twilight fan, so i came up with my own mental images of the characters before i saw them in the movies! i also browsed a lot of other people's interpretations on deviantart back in the day (this is part of why i am such a diehard redhead edward stan, because that's how fanartists would draw him before robert became the default depiction)! so, essentially, i've always had my own "designs" for them in my head! they've visually changed over the years but the vibes i had in mind have always stayed the same

esme and carlisle don't look too different from how the books would describe them (or how they were cast in the films, aside from esme having consistently red hair)

edward has copper-red hair and freckles, which i know goes against stephenie's weird (and racist!) rules for vampires skin. i picture him with a messy two block cut that he can wear styled up a la pattinson or loose and unstyled. i also imagine him being way shorter than he would be canonically, probably around 5'10"

i give jasper long hair and and undercut in my head (which he usually wears in a tightly styled ponytail), and his scars are much more prominent and cover a lot more of his exposed skin than they do in canon, including parts of his face. he's around 6ft and sometimes he pretends to wear glasses

emmett and alice are both mixed. emmett is scruffy in a way that would suit an older teen/young adult, and he's the tallest of his brothers at somewhere over 6ft. still built like a brick house (definitely buffer than kellan but no shade to him; i imagine emmett being unrealistically swole)

alice is whatever obscenely short height she is in canon. her hair is, of course, short, but she tries to mix up the styling and sometimes wears wigs. not a ton of differences here outside of the fact that she is Not White in my mind

the biggest difference for rosalie is that i picture her being around 6ft tall (on par with jasper so they can play up the twin narrative). it doesn't make a ton of sense with her human background but i like to imagine her being a little muscular just because i think that's hot. maybe that's a side effect of vampirism, you get a little jacked

and an overall note is that they usually dress way more normal and casual than they do in the films - outside of alice, who is always turning a look. they each have their own sense of style and they don't color coordinate or exclusively dress like nordstrom models or whatever, nor does alice dress them... most of the time. she has a little sway over jasper tho

edward in particular i imagine dressing very comfortably, lots of big hoodies and worn in jeans. you could go so far as to say i imagine him having a touch of tboy swag

and to answer your last question, bella dresses pretty similarly to how she does in the earlier films with more awkward soft butch swag. there are a couple outfits i describe in the fic that are definitely outside the realm of canon where she's trying to pull off some cute masc shit. again, just like, casual kstew vibes most of the time

[renjamming]

Id love to hear about your ocs they look sooo cool

I WAS GONNA DRAW SOMETHIN but I’ve got a cold and all my energy is sapped so I shall just type hi!!

My ocs r in a universe of my own making basically where like instead of countries it’s territory wars between gods of different forms of architecture, tho there are 3 city behemoths (the gods (they’re not really gods kinda gods idk lol)) specifically of varying architecture styles however forming a semi-coalition but still drawing broad lines between each other yada yada most of my mortal ocs are from the brutalist part of The City and those include: Phares, Gnulray, Inessa, Cassielle, and Murmur. Tho my blonde guy that has the teal and yellow cape is named Cables and he lives in Whitering where the behemoths don’t really cross. Whitering is its own can of worms. Uhmm from the gothic region theres Bancroft, Sloan and Ichabod theyre pretty much a weird ragtag awkward family reunion energy. I have a toyhouse but it’s incomplete and disorganized and I plan on starting a new oc side project too ehe. Basically here’s a rundown of each character (they’re all 30+ btw. Unless I’m missing someone idk) also idk how this is gonna look when I post it the format is weird on mobile

Phares: purple suit + green hair, cool calm and collected but not very empathetic worst advice giver unless it’s advice for a test (if xe had the heart to give u the answers) (she/xe)

Inessa: short curly purple hair + gray and gold suit, workaholic strategist from a rich family who’s really sporadic idk she’s like midlife crises mom office job (she/her)

Gnulray: masked with bug like features + green red and gray, actually very little info on him bc he disappeared off the face of the earth in canon (thon/he)

Cassielle: blues and golds + real dark green almost black hair, overcompensater of the year award goes toooo Cassielle, overbearing and hyperorganized she’s the only cisgender (she/her)

Murmur: shrouded face + very much not human, you’ll kinda know when u see him he’s very exciteable and would frolic if he knew what that word was (he/him)

Cables: blonde with yellow and teal tones, human ur classic 50 year old burden of saving people guy he started as a writing project for a class like two years ago. Look how that turned out (he/him)

Bancroft: scarecrow looking one with blonde long hair and black hat and cloak, weird girl Wednesday and always in a silly goofy mood (she/he)

Sloan: very gray with a red string around his neck, obligatory headless horseman lameguy he sucks party pooper protective but in a “tch.. don’t think about it too much” way (he/xe)

Ichabod: pumpkin on head eerieguy is he contemplating something or is he just autism we’ll never know (he/it)

I’ll add Constance eventually idk he’s also there but he’s more intwined with the behemoths than his fellow mortals (werewolf guy he/him)

[writingfics-passingtime]

Playing the Part

~8300 words of steamy Loki tickle fluff

PG13 for this one, kids. Lots of making out.

CW: some swearing, suggestive humour, mentions of murder/death, alcohol consumption

Every job has its ups and downs, and every employee their good days and not-so-good days. You’d hardly classify yourself as an employee because you didn’t get a paycheque, your entire occupation was a hazard unto itself, human-resources was punching it out on the sparring mat and your boss was either a 100-year-old super soldier or an eccentric billionaire, depending on the day and who was wearing what suit.

Wait… should I be getting paid for this?

Looking around your room that you paid no rent on, in a multi-billion dollar superhero compound, you decided that wasn’t a question you were ever going to ask. The question of the hour was which dress would best conceal your thigh-holstered gun.

Today, your job entailed one of those tasks that could be fun if you decided it would be, or hell if you had a bad attitude about it. You prided yourself on always being up for any mission, so that answered that question, though infiltrating some black-tie gala undercover was never as exciting as fighting alien forces.

You gave up feeling guilty about being a little excited when Earth faced threats long ago; no one had to know that impending planetary destruction was your favourite kind of mission to help out on.

Selecting a red strapless dress from the middle of your mission closet (which was differentiated because most of these dresses were bulletproof) you slipped it on over your underwear and thigh holster. A knock came at your door as you were reaching behind yourself to zip it up.

“Come in!”

“Agent, we- oh… Oh.” Loki’s featured turned from surprised to playfully smug in a matter of seconds.

“Can you get this zipper?” You winced at the stuck metal. He nodded and approached, you turned and held the fabric up. Before he even made it halfway to you he gave a brief wave of his hand and used his magic to unstick the zipper, bringing it to the top.

“Thanks,” you smiled, familiar with that particular kind of help from Loki. “Can you see my gun?” You did a little spin and he shook his head. “Great. You look nice," you commented, gesturing to his impeccable black suit.

“As do you.”

“Ready?”

”I suppose there are worse charades to play on a Saturday evening. Ones that don’t include fine wine and the prospect of a tussle with a Midgardian security man.”

You shot him a look as you two walked towards the garage together. “You said no Midgardian wine could be classed as fine.”

“Save for one region in Italy, I’ve discovered.” Loki shrugged, tightening the fastener on his cuff link.

You gave him a mock look of shock. “Are you telling me… you were wrong?“

“Smugness is not becoming, Agent,” Loki playfully warned.

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes. “Looks like I’m spending too much time with you.”

You bickered and bantered good-naturedly as you entered the garage, which was more like a hangar but only for cars. This mission would be you, Loki, Natasha, Sam and, strangely enough, Tony wanted to drive the van. He gave some excuse about wanting to test some new equipment and spend time with his team. Though you knew it was because Pepper wanted him to attend her aunt’s seventieth birthday, and Tony had a long-standing feud with that particular aunt ever since she went on a forty-five minute tirade about how much she hated Led Zeppelin. You weren’t sure if it was the sentiment behind it, or the fact that she could talk for forty-five minutes straight without the awareness to stop. Either way, Tony was on the job tonight.

“Black Widow is already onsite,“ Tony handed you three some photos as you entered and took your seats. “Your names are on the door, fake ones obviously, here they are.” Tony pulled up some information on the screens and then commanded the self-driving van to go with a few taps at a holographic control centre.

You went over the plan, the objective, who to avoid at all costs, where the gun was supposedly hidden. There was a gun used in a murder of a journalist - the employee of an old friend of Tony's, a young guy working on an exposé of a filthy-rich family dynasty in New York City. The journalist was sure the McDane family money came from arms dealing, but he was found dead just a few short months after he started investigating. The following week, Charles, the charming and likeable newly-married eldest son of the family, announced his run for mayor.

Whether Charlie McDane ordered the murder, or if he didn't even know it happened, Tony's source said this family kept trophies of their victories and the murder weapon would most definitely still be in the house.

On the face of it, it was an unusual assignment for the Avengers. If you didn't think that hard about it, you could have just sent Nat in alone. However, the McDane family was even more powerful than they loved to show on the surface, and this wouldn't be a simple theft. Hence, a small team was going in to avenge the fallen journalist.

Natasha had been planted on the inside, posing as an event manager for a soirée the family was hosting to celebrate Charlie’s birthday and, since he’d invited everyone in the political and social scene, it was the perfect chance to enter the mansion; there’s no way he’d know who each and every person was and should be.

As you walked down the road with your arm slotted through Loki's, you eyed the metal detectors at the front entrance. You gripped his arm and slid your hand into the pocket of your dress, but the pocket was hollow and only existed as easy way to grab your gun. Wordlessly, you passed it to Loki and he concealed it with his magic in the exact same way you planned to smuggle the murder weapon out later that evening.

Maybe it was Loki's elegance or your years of training that started when you were very young, but the way you two could instinctively weave around each other's thoughts, ideas and actions without so much as a glance was something special you didn't take for granted. You both had keen senses, but there was some kind of unexplainable energy that made them align perfectly.

You never let your mind wander on nights like these. On missions. Perhaps if you were less professional you'd take a moment to fantasise about what it would actually be like to go to a party with Loki. If the way he led you through the room with a gentle hand at your waist was more than a ploy to look like an adoring couple, or if he knew your favourite wine because he cared, instead of just having heard you order it a million times before.

He kept things light with jokes and little jabs, never once crossing a boundary when fake-flirting with you, but it wasn't lost on you that it was unusual to have this kind of working relationship that had all of the chemistry with none of the awkwardness. It was almost as if it was second nature now for him to pull you a little closer when you were in a nice dress, considering you'd only worn them in front of him on missions. And so he did pull you closer as you approached the bouncer to give your names.

You spied Nat at the front, leaning around a security guard's shoulder to point to something on his list. She always played her parts so well. She stole a glance at you and Loki through her fake glasses and that was it. No indication she knew you, no special treatment, no way she'd do anything to blow this. She walked up the outdoor staircase as you gave your aliased names to the guard and flashed fake drivers licenses that were pretty much real, considering the government had created them.

Loki declined the arrival champagne for the both of you, immediately leading you to the bar. You looked at him as if to remind him that you weren't here to drink, and his subtle smirk replied that he didn't care. He ordered two glasses of a merlot from the one region in Italy that'd won his respect, passing the glass to you once it was laid on the bar.

"To the finer things," he cheers'ed your glass and you scoffed with a laugh, taking a sip of the wine. The rich flavour burst through your mouth. It was dark and deep, spiced with... with... "Cedar," he offered, reading the analysis on your face. "Rosewood, cedar and some sort of stone-fruit."

"Nectarine."

He smiled and took another sip. "We don't have that on Asgard."

"This wine is good," you nodded as you two turned and deconstructed the room and all of its guests.

It made you kind of sick seeing all of these wealthy people in one place pretending to give a damn about Charlie McDane's birthday. It's not that you liked the guy, not at all, it just felt weird to know that every person in here was the exact kind of person you hunted down. Power-hungry. This mansion may as well be a lion's den. But full of naïve lions, who had no idea two apex predators just walked in.

Just when you started wondering how many people in your line of sight had also committed murder to protect their wealth and power, you saw Natasha give a subtle signal of which way the room with the safe was. Loki saw it too.

It was upstairs, but there wasn't much cover to get upstairs. The great foyer's ceiling was three stories up, the two floors above the ground floor you were on had square balconies that let the people upstairs peer downwards into the masses. Nat's fingers adjusting her hair told you that the room was on the second floor. Thankfully, there were guests on the second floor. Under the guise of admiration for the architecture and a desire to explore the great house, you pointed out works of art to Loki as you ascended the stairs together. When you walked past Natasha she smiled politely, like a good host, and asked if you were enjoying the wine.

"It's most divine. Though, I believe my beloved may be in search of a room to powder her nose."

You would have rolled your eyes at his usual choice of asking for information if you weren't aware that security's eyes were everywhere. Even on the event manager.

"You might find what you need up the stairs, down the first hall, third door on your right."

The way her hands were motioning didn't match her hushed description, so you followed the instructions in her voice instead of the way her hands were telling you.

You allowed Loki to lead you upstairs, down the first hall. When you two were certain there were no eyes, he concealed you two with his magic. The hallway was darkened. He pressed his hand against the lock and unfastened it with an unseen pure magic and you two slipped inside. It was a large office with grand mahogany furniture, decorated exactly as you'd expect Old Money Americans to decorate their office. Right down to the bear head above the fireplace and the first edition novels sitting proudly on the shelf, probably unread by their owners. That also made you a little sick: great words sitting unread as trophies.

Scanning the room for any obvious signs of the safe, your eyes settled on a panel in the wood on the side of the desk. There was a slightly smaller gap in the wood on one side, indicating hinges. You held your hands up to Loki and he conjured thin gloves to grace your fingers, then you pressed gently on the wood to engage the latch. The panel swung open to reveal the safe. Shifting out of the way, Loki took your place and placed a gloved hand on the dial. In less than three seconds, it spun rapidly in each direction before clicking open.

"We should really consider robbing banks," you whispered as the black metal door swung open and you were met with stacks of paper and envelopes.

"Need I remind you I am a Prince? If it's gold you want, darling, say the word."

"Eh," you shrugged, feeling around for the gun. "I meant more for the thrills."

Loki chuckled as your fingers found a familiar-feeling package. You pulled the envelope out and peered inside before showing Loki the sight of a small pistol. He nodded and took it from you carefully, then concealed it in some unknown magical space close to him.

You closed the safe carefully and then your gloves disappeared. Moving quietly back to the door, you listened for several moments to make sure no one was coming. Then, you both slid out and began walking down the hall like a loving couple.

Suddenly, a guard appeared at the end of the hallway. Thinking fast, you opened the closest door to you and pushed Loki inside. There was a shout you vaguely heard before you shut and locked the door again.

"Shit," you hissed. You were in someone's bedroom. Or maybe it was a guest room, considering how clean and un-lived-in it looked. There was a fireplace, like in the office, and a large four-poster bed against one wall. In the middle of the room were two plush couches that faced each other and were side-on to the door. You two walked over to them to get the vantage of being in the centre of the room and quickly searched for an exit.

"I'll cast an illusion," Loki whispered, ready to wave his hands and make it look as if you two weren't here.

"No!" You whispered, eyes wide. "They already saw us come in here. If we disappear, they'll know something's up and lock the place down."

"Then what do you propose?" He held his hands out, annoyingly unbothered by the prospect of blowing a mission. The doorknob twisted and you both snapped your heads towards it, then back at each other.

"Sit," you hissed and shoved him back onto the sofa right behind him. He stumbled and fell with a small indignant noise of surprise. You heard the tinkling of keys and your heart beat in your chest.

"Agent?"

Knowing the security team was about to enter, you acted fast. "I'll never hear the end of this," you mumbled before sliding forward to straddle his lap. His eyebrows shot up his forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and looked at him with nervous urgency. "Kiss me."

Loki didn't question it, and he certainly didn't need to be told twice. His hands found their place. One at the small of your back, one firmly gripping the hair at the nape of your neck. Then, he pulled you in for a fiery kiss.

You barely heard the door open as you lost yourself in the strength of his hold, the steady and eager grasp with which he held you. His hands found their places as if they'd been there a thousand times before, as if he knew exactly how you'd feel the safest, feel the most desired. You pulled him deeper by the back of his neck and could have sworn he made a small noise of satisfaction.

Oh no.

He kept kissing you, you kept kissing him, even after the head of the security team had cleared his throat a number of times. As much as you knew you'd already sold it, and boy you sold it well, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. Were all Asgardians this good at kissing, or was it just Loki?

Oh. No.

"HEY!"

The sudden loud command pulled you away and, much to your internal mortification, you didn't need to feign how flustered you were.

"O-oh my," you squeaked and looked up at the man, blushing profusely.

Okay, the squeak was fake, but it felt almost real.

You stayed put where you were straddling Loki's lap and grimaced when you saw Natasha, still in character, entering the room. "What's going on, I need you downstairs to- oh!" She looked a little taken aback by your position atop the prince who, you were fuming to see from the corner of your eye, had the audacity to be smirking.

"My apologies," Loki drawled in his growly regal voice, trailing his hands around to your sides. "I simply couldn't control myself, seeing my queen in this dress..." He punctuated it with an "Mmph" and a firm squeeze at your hips. You flinched and squirmed a bit under the ticklish touch, trying to keep your composure but letting a small giggle slip out. Then, catching the pleased and mischievous glint in his eye, you dug your nails into the back of his shoulder to warn him off trying that again.

"This room's off limits," the guard tilted his head towards the door and you made to move your way off of Loki's lap. Instead, with his incredible strength, he stood with his hands still at your hips, lifting you to your feet before turning and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He looked the guard up and down, "Of course, good sir." You bit your lip and blushed, cowering in Loki's hold as you exited the room together. Nat smirked at you and winked before proceeding to fall back into character and tell the guards there was a belligerent drunk man downstairs needing to be kicked out. That man would be Wilson, who was playing his part as tipsy distraction.

Loki led you down the hall and you rounded a corner, then you broke off from him and held a hand to your chest. "That was too close," you breathed deeply once, then met his eye. You glared when he saw him smirking at you.

"Do I have lipstick on my face?" He asked, feigning worry.

"Oh, shut up," you swatted his shoulder. "I did what I had to do."

"I never knew you had the passion in you, Agent," Loki smirked again. You glared once more and peeked around the corner, only to jump and hold in a yelp as Loki's pinching fingers found your hip. "I also never knew you were so ticklish."

"That's not something people advertise- cut it ouhout!" You swatted his hand and squirmed away from him as he prodded his fingers into your side. "We have the gun, let's get out of here."

"Tsk, you're no fun," Loki scoffed.

You exited the party and made your way down the block towards the van, knowing that Nat's glasses had broadcast at least the last part of your little tussle with Loki. Steeling yourself as you gripped the handle, you reminded yourself that you were a professional, and this was sometimes a hazard of the job. You needed to play it cool when the eventual teasing came.

"Hey, lovebirds," Tony quipped the second he saw your faces.

"Hey," you chuckled, stepping inside and removing your heels the second you found your seat. "We got it."

"Here," Loki closed the door behind him and pulled the enveloped gun from the magical space he'd hidden it. "So you saw the Agent's display of passion, did you?"

"You wound me, Loki," you deadpanned. "I thought we had a mutual connection."

Perhaps those words were a mistake considering all the truth behind them. However, all the best lies were founded on truth, and for now you needed to convince everyone in the van that you weren't totally freaking out because you'd felt the most passionate attraction you'd had in years with a former villain. I mean... how predictable.

Loki looked at you suspiciously as he took his seat, but something in his gaze told you he wasn't going to prod deeper on this. Not right now, at least. Not in front of everyone.

Nat and Sam joined the fray five minutes later and you all got a move-on back to the Compound. Nat poked more fun at the position she'd found you two in, and you laughed good-naturedly at all their jokes. Loki was uncharacteristically silent, and seemed to always be looking at you when you laughed and instinctively checked to see if he was laughing too.

The jokes shifted to Sam and the wine he spilled down his shirt, then the conversation shifted to the next steps of what to do with the gun, then you all arrived back.

Tony got to work dismantling his rig, declining your help, and so you took your field weapons over to the cabinet to put them back in their places. As you were unclipping the magazine from your pistol, you felt a presence behind the door. You peered around to see Loki.

"What's up?" You raised your eyebrows and snapped the case shut, then closed the door.

He looked at you meaningfully, quizzically, but didn't say anything.

"Okay..." you chuckled uncomfortably and put the latch on the door in place. "I'm going to shower."

You made to walk past him but he grabbed your upper arm, stopping you by his side. Facing different ways, he leaned in a little closer and spoke quietly. "I can spot a lie from lightyears away."

Turning to look at him, you'd probably have been caught off-guard by how close his face was if it hadn't been for the events of earlier. You shrugged, pulling your arm from his grasp. "I didn't lie."

He scoffed and also turned to look at you, eyes flitting once down to your lips, then back up to pierce your gaze with his. "You know what I meant."

You were proud of how composed you kept yourself when you shrugged again and kept walking, swallowing hard.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Never one to waste water, you took an uncharacteristically long shower. Haphazardly smearing face wash over your skin to scrub the makeup off, scrub away the flustered energy. But no amount of scrubbing could help you forget the feeling of his kiss, and shampooing the hairspray from your head only made you remember the feeling of his fingers in your hair.

You reminded yourself that it had been a very long time since you'd kissed someone. You were probably just desperate, definitely a little touch-starved in general, so the fact that it was Loki didn't matter as much as the fact that it had happened.

That's what you told yourself over and over as you threw on sweatpants and a soft long-sleeved shirt. It was cold and the marble floors could be unforgiving, so you thought it best to go for fluffy socks, but then pulled some slippered boots over the top. You didn't bother brushing your wet hair, letting it fall where it wanted as you made your way to the kitchen.

"That smells good," you commented as Nat pulled some dish out of the oven.

"Mmm," she agreed with an excited smile. "Nico is my favourite," she admitted slyly, referring to one of the chefs Pepper would call in to prepare a bunch of heatable meals during busy periods. Delivery app drivers would probably cancel the order if you tried, thinking it must be a joke that a super solider was asking for a Big Mac to be delivered to the Avengers Compound. Besides, by the time it was scanned and made sure to not contain a deadly poison, it would be cold and stale. "There's enough for you too," Nat said, pulling out another plate and serving you a steaming slice of vegetarian lasagne.

"Thanks," you smiled, still a little distracted. Of course, with someone as perceptive as Nat, that wouldn't be allowed to slip by.

She leaned against the counter and poked at her meal, not meeting your eye to keep it less direct. "You alright?"

"Hmm?" You looked up, and so did she, then you looked back down to your food and shrugged. It was no use lying to her. "I think I'm lonely," you laughed humourlessly, nervously, sadly.

"The kiss got to you," she said knowingly, placing her fork down to give you her full attention. You didn't return the favour, nervous about what you'd say if you were really talking about this. Which, as long as you were here eating dinner, you weren't really talking about it.

"It's not like I haven't kissed a fellow Agent before to keep cover," you sighed a little, shaking your head. "It's just been a while, I guess, since I've had... anything... or, someone."

"I get that," she nodded, picking up her fork again. You two ate in silence for several moments. "This is really good," she declared through an extra-large mouthful. You chuckled and nodded, swallowing another bite. After several more moments, she said quietly, "It's okay if you felt something."

That made you choke a bit. Noticeably, unfortunately. You shook your head, but didn't deny it. "No. It's not okay."

"Why not?" She asked as if you were crazy.

"It's not okay," you repeated firmly, stabbing your fork again at the lasagna. "It's not."

Before she could attempt to pry for more information, Thor and Loki entered the kitchen together. Great.

"Good evening," Thor beamed a toothless smile.

"There's more in the fridge if you're hungry," you looked up at them in an attempt to not seem as regressed in on yourself as you felt. Thor looked at your plate and nodded in approval, opening the fridge. Then you looked at Loki, fully expecting to see some kind of calculating stare as before, but his expression was soft. He looked you over, probably noticing your out-of-character hunched posture and the way your head hung a little lower than usual, and he gave you a look that was subtly laced with sympathy.

Now that made your blood boil. Who was he to feel sorry for you?

He seemed to notice the way your jaw clenched under his gaze, and opened his mouth to say something but Thor spoke first.

"There's a film Stark wants us all to watch this evening."

Nat chuckled, finishing off her dinner. "You say that like he's showing us training videos. He's just trying to bond the team over some cheesy nineties movie." She looked at you and nodded to your clothes. "You look ready for a movie night."

Before you could explain that you'd rather go to bed, Thor beamed again. "Excellent, then! We'll all be there."

Thor was always kind to you, so you didn't want to disappoint him over something so inconsequential. You smiled warmly at him and nodded. "I'm gonna go claim a good spot," you excused yourself, aware it was almost time for it to start. You quickly did your dishes and left the kitchen, making sure to get a seat on a large armchair so you made it clear you'd rather have some personal space right now, even though it was the exact opposite of what you wanted. Maybe it would be good for you though, to remember that you were alone for a reason. That this life you chose wasn't kind too love.

Gods, love. Why did you think of that word, of all the ones out there. You were spiralling. Sentiment, you corrected yourself with a swift reprimand. Sentiment, loneliness, desperation.

You busied yourself chatting to Wanda as people filtered in, taking note of how she seamlessly wove herself in and around Vision as they sat on a two-seater next to you. Determined not to look at or think of Loki or romance or kissing or anything like that, you trained your eyes on the screen as the movie started.

But you spiralled.

There were these two main characters in the movie with this undeniable bickering co-worker chemistry that reminded you of Loki, the jokes he’d whisper into your ear during meetings, the harmless mischief he’d pull to make you laugh, the way his hand felt at your lower back- NO. You couldn’t think about that.

Wanda and Vision were in your line of sight from the corner of your eye and you saw her fingers lace through his, you then saw him place a silent kiss on the crown of her head. Biting down on your tongue, you remembered Nat and Bruce, Pepper and Tony, Thor and Jane, Clint and Laura. All those people who seemed to find love, even temporary love, in the midst of all this madness.

So maybe it wasn’t this life. Maybe it was just… you.

Biting your tongue a little harder, you reminded yourself how powerless you were compared to all these super-people. Sure, many of them were human like you, but all the other humans seemed to have someone who loved them.

It felt hopeless, knowing the only person in this room who you wanted close was so extraordinarily out of your league. He was a god. You were a human. Your life was a flicker compared to his, of course he’d never waste time indulging the likes of you.

But it felt real.

Halfway through the movie you decided you couldn’t sit there and see these buddy-cop characters fall in love. You couldn’t watch Wanda and Vision so enamoured with each other. What you needed was to hit something hard, and then go to sleep. So you excused yourself without a word or a glance at anyone. It was late, anyway. You weren’t even the first one to leave.

A turn of a black-haired form told you that Loki noticed you leaving, but the lack of footsteps behind you as you walked down the silent hall told you that he hadn’t followed you.

Slipping into your room and then into some workout clothes, you jammed your headphones into your ears and put on some classical music; you weren't sure you could stand to hear any words right now. You laced your shoes a little tighter than normal and practically sprinted to the gym, very unwilling to have anyone notice you were gone and decide to come check on you.

Hitting the bag felt good. It was the perfect consolation prize for what you'd actually prefer right now, but with every crushing of your knuckles against the thick canvas you found it easier to forget how it felt to have your fingers looped through his hair. The sweat dripping down your face replaced the feeling of his breath against your skin when you'd broken the kiss, and the aching in your obliques from your tensing and turning to hit the bag took the place of any memory of his hands at your waist. The aching was here, and he was almost gone.

After a half-hour of interval sprints, it was just past midnight and you were exhausted. Not knowing how you felt about no one coming to check on you, you traipsed back to your room in silence. The faint echoing of your footsteps through the hallways made you quiet yourself further, stepping as lightly as you could to prove to yourself that you were still a good spy. Good spies don't get caught up with feelings. Your footsteps fell, dead quiet, and you regained some confidence.

Your muscles stung the next morning but in a delightful way. You'd treated yourself to another hot shower when you got back to your room, so this morning it would probably be best to have an icy one.

As the cold water hit your skin, you felt okay again. The boxing and running last night had really shaken everything out of you, only the smallest lingering of lonely desire remained and it could easily be ignored. Of course, that was easy to say. The second you walked into the kitchen to see that Loki had heard you coming and poured you a coffee you felt a tug at your chest.

His hands closed around the mug to pass it to you and you remembered how his fingers had closed around your waist. He smiled good morning and you remembered how his lips felt against yours. Holding it all in, you smiled and took the coffee, then proceeded to have a short conversation with him like a normal person would. He made jokes about last night, but not about that, and you chuckled at them. After perhaps too short a time for how long you usually chatted, you excused yourself to go do some paperwork. You caught the way his brow furrowed a little, but he didn't question you.

The next few days were more or less like this. You'd try to engage with Loki normally but spiral a little more, convincing yourself that the more you continued like you always had, the more normal things would be again. But he was just so... beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful and now you couldn't help but notice.

One evening, nearly a week after you'd kissed, you were having a bit of a vulnerable day and you walked into the kitchen for some ice cream. Loki had just finished cleaning up after his dinner and turned to say hello, but you couldn't do it. You just turned and walked right back out again. He called after you but you didn't stop. It's not like you were going to cry in front of him, but you just couldn't do this right now.

Seeking refuge in your bedroom, you shut the door and slid down to the floor with your back against it. An immediate soft knock frustrated you, especially knowing who it probably was. You sighed and stood.

“Hey,” you greeted Loki with a nod when you opened the door, immediately turning away to make it look like you were about to do something else. “What’s up?”

Loki stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, which made you stop and give him your attention. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied.

He squinted for the faintest second and smiled a little sadly. “Light years,” he reminded you how he could spot a lie without harshly calling you out. It pained you that he didn’t. That his lack of sarcasm indicated that he saw you as a bit fragile right now.

You sighed a little and ducked your head to the side, conceding the point. “I’m a little haywire,” you admitted. “I think I need to get some stress out and go to sleep.”

”What troubles you?”

Ah. What a question.

You didn’t want to shut him out, but you certainly didn’t know how to explain that one simple kiss undercover had brought a massive crashing wave of insecurity and anxiety that made you feel completely unlovable. Or... maybe you could just say that?

You were silent for so long that Loki spoke again.

“I’d like to offer my apologies,” he said very diplomatically. “If I overstepped the bounds of our relationship.”

“I’m the one that made you kiss me,” you winced. “I should be apologising.”

”I didn’t mean that,” Loki shook his head. “I meant after, when we returned. When I cornered you.”

You had to laugh. “You didn’t corner me, Loki. I appreciate you wanting to make me feel better but you have nothing to apologise for.”

”Very well. But you didn’t make me,” he replied firmly.

“I know, I know…” you rolled your eyes. “A god submits to no one, I just meant that I put you in a situation that I shouldn’t have. Believe me, I’m paying the price.”

That last part came out a little faster than you’d intended it to. In fact, you didn’t really mean to say that last part out loud at all. Or maybe you did. What a perfect Freudian Slip. Quickly collecting yourself, you spotted your headphones and went to pick them up but noticed that Loki was taking slow steps towards you.

”Paying the price?” He asked carefully. You stopped and folded your arms, shrugging.

“People poke fun, you know.” You bit your tongue. Then, you saw him smirk a little. Ah. Lightyears.

“I thought we had a mutual connection,“ he raised his eyebrows, teasing you with your joke from That Night. You gave him a firm stare, but couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t that far away now.

“Loki, that was-“

“A thinly veiled truth,” he interjected, leaving no room for debate. He also left very little room between the two of you. You opened your mouth to respond, seemed to not be able to, and he smirked at your speechlessness.

"Y-you can't." You shook your head. "There's no way."

"There's no way, what?" A smiled tugged at his lips at the way your eyes widened when he took a strand of your hair and wrapped it once around his finger.

"... Mutual?"

“Now that we won’t be interrupted…” he brought his hand up next to his face, flourished it, and you heard your door’s lock click shut. You held your breath as a mischievous grin graced his lips.

Oh gods, you were looking at his lips. You couldn't seem to look away.

He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Might we finish what we started?”

With the smallest nod of your head, he immediately ducked his head to press his lips against yours. Your small noise of surprise made him pull away for a second and grin, before he playfully growled and lifted you from the ground. His eyes stayed trained on yours as he walked a few steps and firmly shoved your back against the wall. Your breath hitched as his hand found that place at the back of your neck, and this time, you kissed him. Eagerly, hungrily, feeling so overwhelmingly euphoric that this was even happening.

It had to be a dream, you thought as his lips trailed along your jawline, his hot breath hit your neck and his strong unwavering arms kept you above the ground and level with his gaze. He kissed you not just like a god or a great lover - he kissed you like he wanted you. Like he‘d also been waiting to do this for an unspeakable amount of time. It felt like relief.

Pulling you both back from the wall, Loki's lips didn’t relent as your fingers tangled once again in his hair. He walked backwards and found his seat on the end of your bed, sitting with you in his lap as he had at the party.

“Gods, you enrapture me,“ he pulled away, a little breathless. He grinned and his eyes were hazy. He looked at you intensely before looking back at your lips, subconsciously slipping out his tongue to wet his own. Before you could respond, he was kissing you again. You could have melted into his touch. In fact, you were fairly certain you just might.

He leaned back and you both fell onto the bed, you on top of him. You laughed at the sudden impact and you pulled away for a few seconds to catch your breath. You looked at his adoring gaze and blushed. “I never thought someone like you could want someone like me.”

He furrowed his brow, unsure if you were about to reference his nefarious past.

”You’re so… mighty. You’re a Prince, a god, you’re wickedly smart and powerful and… and I’m just a human.”

“Watch your tongue,” Loki scolded somewhat seriously and held you a little tighter. “Don’t speak of yourself as if you’re insignificant.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, giving him a look. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do, I’m wickedly smart,” he smirked and you playfully swatted at his chest. He smiled contentedly and ran his hands firmly down your sides to settle at your hips. It was an innocent romantic gesture, one to position you for further making-out with Loki, but your eyes widened at the memory of his discovery the previous weekend and the assumption that the God of Mischief was about to turn the tables.

Unluckily for you, your flustered expression rendered it a self-fulfilling prophesy.

“Loki…” You warned as you saw the glint in his eye.

“That’s right…” His smirk widened to a devilish grin.

”How about you keep kissing me, huh?” You laughed nervously and leaned in closer. Loki laughed and nodded, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of your neck as you pressed your lips to his. Once your arms were around his neck, he deepened the kiss and rolled over, putting you underneath him. Still on the edge of the bed, your feet barely skimmed the floor. Then, he suddenly became the classic Loki you knew.

“Mmmhmhm!” You whined and giggled a little into the kiss as the fingers belonging to his arm around your waist started ever so gently scratching at your side. “Mmnnoho!” You broke away and gave him a pouting look. He lifted his head and smirked.

Gods. He’d never looked so unspeakably hot.

Messy curls framing his face, that look he gave you that said You’re In Trouble in his distinct Loki way, mixed with the desire in his piercing blue eyes; you’d gladly endure his torture if it meant he looked at you like that.

But maybe that’s because you had no idea what was coming.

“Darling,” he cocked his head and kissed your cheek before kissing just below your ear. “I am the God of Mischief….“ he kissed your neck in a way that you were sure was intended to tickle. You giggled and bit your lip. “And now that I've got my hands on you, you simply cannot expect me to not exploit this little weakness to its fullest extent.”

“L-Loki!” You blushed at the very real threat and he chuckled.

“How about you guide me, hmm? Where should I start?”

“I’m not playing this game,” you laughed nervously, squirming a bit underneath him and resting your hands on his shoulders to push away the ticklish kisses.

“Aw, come now,” he lifted his head and that same beautiful smirk made your heart beat quick. His hand behind your neck slid down under your shoulder blade until it sat at your upper ribs. You stole a glance down to where it may be, even though you couldn’t see it. He cocked his head again. “No? Alright, I’ll choose.” With a wink his thumb slipped around the side and up into the hollow under your arm.

“LOKI!” You gasped, clamped your arm down from instinct and immediately started squirming and giggling, even though his thumb wasn’t even moving. He grinned again and kissed your lips once more.

“You've been down all week, love. Let's have a bit of fun,” he whispered, then sprang his hand at your waist into action, scratching and grabbing at the soft skin hidden beneath your shirt. You gasped again and started laughing softly, then squeaked when his thumb started wiggling into the hollow under your arm.

"NOHOHO!" You shut your eyes and then squealed loudly when his fingers underneath you began clawing into the back of your uppermost ribs. Damnit, you thought he may start easy on you, not go for three different places at once. You were already in a desperate cackle, bubbling incoherent pleas spilling from your lips as you writhed underneath his amused self.

"I'm honestly delighted you're so ticklish," Loki teased with a chuckle. "It's adorable, really. So professional all the time, yet..." He finished his sentence by intensifying his touch and speed at all three sites of attack, drawing a small shriek from your laughing lips and a jolt from your body. "Has it always been this easy to undo you?"

“OHMYGOHOD!” You shrieked, throwing your head against the bed and trying to buck your upper body against him to no avail. He paused his torture and kissed you deeply again, lips curled into a smile as he pressed his lips to yours. You shook your head and broke away, still laughing. “Youhou’re ridiculous! We were hahaving such a nice moment and y-you ruined ihit,” you whimpered. He kissed to again to silence your complaints.

“What did you expect?”

“I-I expected a nice romantic moment!” You laughed and brought both arms between you and him to shove at his shoulders. “Now,” you gave him a stern look. “Do you want to tickle me, or kiss me? You can only choose one.”

He scoffed. “I don’t do ultimatums, darling.”

“You do now.”

“Bold.“ He stuck his tongue against his cheek then ducked his head to the side in consideration. He then looked at your face, which you’d been attempting to hold in some semblance of a firm glare. He lowered his lips to your ear and you heard him chuckle once. “Far too bold for someone so ticklish.”

He whipped his arms out from under you and pressed his weight down again, trapping your arms between your bodies as he clawed into the front and sides of your lowest ribs.

“NOHOAHAH!” You immediately fell into desperate belly-laughter as his fingers drilled and clawed into the spaces between your bones. Your feet kicked helplessly, merely grazing the ground as laughter kept spilling from you. “NOHO! NO! LOKIHI I CAHAN’T!” He shifted his hands further up your ribcage and snuck his fingers around to dig in at the back and, after one more shriek, your laughter went silent. It was trapped in your chest as his squeezing and vibrating fingers found every sensitive space on your ribs that made you want to melt into a little puddle. You were gasping for air by the time he halted his attack, squeaking and wheezing as you tried to regain your breath.

It was torture, but you hoped he wouldn’t ask you if it was worth enduring to have him this close. If he could spot a lie from lightyears away, how much easier could he spot it when he was close enough for you to see the flecks of green in his eyes.

”You’re… you’re gonna kill me,” you hiccoughed. He smirked and leaned in for another kiss. “Nuh-uh,” you pulled your finger up as much as you could from where your arms were trapped. “You made your choice.”

He grinned and slid his hands down your sides with a wink, "Oh? Then I'll gladly continue."

"W-w-wait! I dihidn't th-WAHAIT!"

His thumbs drilled relentlessly into your hips as Loki joined in with your loud laughter. You finally managed to wiggle your arms out from where they were trapped at your chest, shooting them down to grab at his fingers. Your feet having no traction and his near entire weight pressing you to the bed made it impossible to buck or lift any part of your torso, so you were completely trapped with nowhere to go as he gripped and grabbed at the skin of your hips, kneading at the pressure points that made you squeak and squirm beneath him.

When he tired of your fingers trying to grab his, he did a devilish swift lift of his own body and slotted his hands between the two of you, settling them palms-down over the majority of your belly. You made a huge gasping noise and started frantically giggling and squealing even before he'd moved his hands. You shook your head and begged for him to kiss you instead, nervous high-pitched giggles interlacing your words.

"N-noho, Loki just kihiss me, kiss me plehease! PLEASE!" You squeaked, cupping his cheeks and gently pulling him towards you. He chuckled and grinned, gently digging a few fingers in just once. You thrashed and renewed your struggling and squealing efforts. "Dohon't you DAHARE! I won't kiss you agahain if you do this!" You threatened. He cocked his head and leaned in a little closer to look deep into your eyes. Then, he grinned and whispered:

"Lightyears."

You thought for certain you'd pass out from laughter when Loki's fingers sprang into action and rippled against your hypersensitive stomach. You laughed loudly, completely powerless to stop his fingers from digging in wherever they pleased. After not much time at all, your laughter went silent and you weakly batted at his shoulders, sides, face, anything your hands could find for themselves since your eyes were shut so tight. Any words your brain even began to think of forming got lost as laughter ripped through your chest from the electric intensity of his fingers against your body.

When your hands finally found both sides of his face, you used all the energy you had left to press your laughing lips against his and, finally, he relented. You fell back with a loud gasp as he retracted his hands with an amused chuckle and took his weight mostly off you, propping himself up with a hand planted either side of your head.

"Alright there, darling?" He teased as you coughed weakly and wiped the tears of mirth from your cheeks. You gave him a scowl, but he found it adorable.

"Thihis isn't fair," you crossed your arms defiantly.

"No?" He smirked. "Pray tell, my love. What isn't fair?"

Oh. My love. His love.

That took any breath you'd managed to get back in your lungs.

"Y-you... you..." But your words were lost in the bliss of being his. He seemed to quickly understand how his words touched your heart, and it softened his teasing demeanour, and softened his smirk into a smile. "You found my worst spots so soon," you managed to murmur through rosy cheeks.

"Was only a matter of time."

"But now you have the upper hand."

"Dear heart, this isn't a struggle for power," he laughed heartily. "I do not seek to rule over you. Anything you ask of me, anything in the Nine Realms, I will give to you."

"Tell me where you're ticklish."

He chuckled and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before falling down beside you. He hummed in contentment as he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you as close as you could be.

"Anything but that."

[matchablossomhcs]

matchablossom timeline ++ (as it’s in my head, part 2)(cw for underage drinking and general teenage horniness)

- kaoru gets a piercing on his 15th birthday. his parents are, as usual, not home. they make up for it by sending his son a considerable amount of money as a birthday gift. kaoru and kojiro spend most of it at the shady liquor store down the street from the skate park; some of the guys there know them - they used to try to pick on them, on kaoru specifically, when they were younger, and gave up when they saw how feisty the kid was. “what are ya celebratin’, kiddos?” one of them asks. kaoru grumbles something about his birthday. “birthday boy, huh?” the guy behind the register snickers. “when i was your age, i got a piercing as a gift to myself for my sixteenth. drove the old man crazy!”

- kaoru’s 15th birthday is also what he in later years will call his sexual awakening. they get teenage drunk in his room later that evening, kaoru fiddling with the ring stuck through his earlobe, kojiro unable to keep his eyes off the glimt of silver contrasting the soft pink of his hair. the weight of the gaze makes kaoru feel funny, and at some point kojiro pulls a pillow into his lap, and if their minds weren’t fuzzy from cheap vodka, they would probably be more awkward about the whole situation. “you look pretty,” kojiro mumbles at some point, pillow still in his lap, head heavily leaned on kaoru’s shoulder. his breath tickles kaoru’s neck. “idiot,” is all kaoru can say in return. if his voice trembles, neither comments on it.

- (several years later they mention that 15th birthday, and laugh at their own awkwardness.)

- the next year of their lives is a blur of schoolwork, overall frustration, and feelings neither can put into words. they spend most of their time attached at the hip as always, but it somehow isn’t enough. they don’t discuss it because they don’t know how, but they’re both aware of each other’s feelings - to a degree, at least. sometimes when they walk to school, their hands find each other, fingers tangling together clumsily, only to quickly let go when they see a passerby. in the privacy of kojio’s room or the spacious kitchen at kaoru’s house, they allow their knees to knock under the table, but neither moves away from the other’s body heat. kaoru steals kojiro’s shirts - “becasue the maid forgot to bring back the laundry yesterday,” he says, even though they both saw the folded uniform shirts in the dining room that morning. they’re clumsy, they’re awkward, but they’re doing their best.

- kaoru is forced to go on vacation with his family the summer break before their last year of high school. he tries to hide his panic behind a wall of grumpiness and what could be written off as “teenager attitude”, but kojiro knows him better than anyone. “it cannot be that bad,” he says, sitting cross-legged on kaoru’s bed, watching with slight amusement as his friend digs through his closet for things that will suit a two month long vacation at some fancy resort. “they are setting me up with some ceo’s daughter,” kaoru grumbles. kojiro only quirks his eyebrow, and his silent judgement is punished by a stray pillow thrown at his head. “i’m gay, for fucks sake!” kaoru grits, and dives back into his closet. kojiro squeezes around the pillow he just caught. they never discussed it - and kaoru never admitted anything. it’s not like kojiro didn’t know that kaoru liked men - that kaoru liked him, but it’s still weird to get a verbal confirmation. “maybe i should just tell them,” kaoru keeps talking, pulling a white cardigan off a hanger. it’s a garment that screams “my parents own a villa and three yachts”, and usually kojiro would comment on it, but kaoru’s words distract him. “why would you tell them?” he asks. he doesn’t know why he’s asking. kaoru looks up from the pile of clothes on the floor, and squints at him, as if he doesn’t know if kojiro’s serious. “it’s not like i have plans to get together with anyone else,” he answers. for a moment, they just stare at each other, kaoru the embodiment of confidence, kojiro not sure of what those words mean. the implications of the sentence hits both of them at the same time - kaoru’s face turns beet red, and kojiro hides behind the pillow.

- kaoru gets his lip pierced during that vacation. kojiro's is there to meet him at the airport, because kaoru’s parents are already on their way to some other business meeting. kojiro’s brain short-circuits when he sees kaoru; the silver lip ring matches the ear piercing, cold and shiny against pale skin (however kaoru managed not to get tan in fuckings spain is a mystery). his hair is longer than kojiro remembers it being, small sections braided here and there, pulled into a tall ponytail. he seems to have grown taller as well, but that might just be kojiro’s imagination. their eyes meet, and suddenly, kaoru’s arms are thrown around kojiro’s neck, and pink hair is everywhere, and a weight he didn’t know he was carrying lifts off kojiro’s shoulders. when kaoru finally pulls away, kojiro doesn’t think.

- they’re almost 17, and each other’s first kiss.

[useyernamesteven]

(Needed some goofy fluff to distract myself from the angst im writing so buckle up, its long. Based on that one post I cannot find so if anyone can help a homie out, much appreciated)

Raya/Namaari Accidental Marriage Proposal

Its not a far stretch to assume that the different tribes have different practices and rituals. And given the 500 year gap in communication its also easy enough to assume that the tribes don't know about each others differing customs.

For example: marriage proposals. In Tail its as cut-and-dry as asking. Talon people propose with rings and jade coin. When you propose in Spine you chop down a tree to show your commitment and strength.

The Fang propose with blades. Fang people love their knives, daggers, spears, and other pointy weapons, so if you want to ask someone to marry you, you do it with a blade.

I like to imagine it'd be because offering a blade to someone- who isn't family -is the equivalent of trusting your life to that person. I like to think the Fang value not only a person's strength and honour, but their ability to care and protect their people. So giving a blade to your chosen love is like saying, "I'm giving you this weapon because I trust you with my heart, literally and metaphorically".

But again, 500 year old divide means others have no clue what giving a knife to someone from Fang entails...

So maybe its been a few months or so after the Druun have been vanquished. Raya is still re-learning how to be a 'princess' while playing liaison between the tribes, with Sisu as her partner in crime. She likes it because she still gets to travel and she gets to see her new friends from the other tribes: Boun's business is booming, Noi has started talking, and Tong has become the new Chief of Spine.

Then there's Namaari.

Six years of playing cat-and-mouse together (or rather angry kitten and homeless puppy) can be hard to overcome. At first it was a struggle. And incredibly awkward. Namaari, too guilt ridden over what she'd done, and Raya, still angry and socially stunted, could barely hold a conversation together.

Eventually Raya, fed up with the weird awkward talk, dragged Namaari to Fang's training grounds and challenged her to a sparring match. And only when it was over, the both of them exhausted and laying on the ground, did they start talking, actually talking. About what happened with the gem, with Sisu, what they can't let go of, not yet, but what they hope they can move past one day.

It made things after easier because it was familiar ground for them, but it also opened up new paths too. Now in the months since they saved the world and having spent that time working together, Raya would like to consider Namaari a close friend.

Which is probably why she's so surprised when Namaari off-handedly mentions her birthday is next week. Namaari, who's less than thrilled about her mother's plans for a big celebration, doesn't even notice how much Raya's caught off guard. Namaari doesn't really care for her birthday, much less when her mother makes a big deal about it, but she still brushes her hair behind her ear when she asks Raya if she's going to attend.

Raya recovers, nudging Namaari saying that she's obviously going, and boasting about the amazing gift she's going to bring.

Which then leads to her dragging Sisu to Talon in search of the perfect gift (Sisu being the only 'person' she knows who can help being that she's a master gift giver... Sisu's words, not Raya's, but still). They run around Talon for ages, with Sisu practically buying everything in sight (with the Heart Palace Credit of course) but Raya can't find a single thing she thinks Namaari would actually like.

And then she spots a Fang vendor selling blades.

The woman is nice and she asks Raya if she's looking for something in particular. Raya says she wants to get a dagger for 'someone special' from Fang (not wanting to rack up the price if the woman knew who it was for, but also completely unaware to what she's just implied).

The vendor seems a little surprised but she easily walks Raya through picking out the perfect dagger for her 'someone special'. Raya ends up buying a pretty, yet functional dagger with a dragon engraved in the blade and an ornate box to keep it in. As Raya's leaving the woman gives her a pat on the shoulder and says, "All the best for the both of you and I'm sure she'll say yes," which Raya can't really make sense of so she shrugs and leaves to go find Sisu and her mountain of trinkets.

So now its the party, and when Namaari said Virana was making a big deal about it, she really meant it. People from all the tribes are attending and Sisu's brought her brothers and sisters and there's music and food and fireworks...

And Namaari stands beside her mother in a beautiful dress that makes Raya's heart thud erratically (it's totally platonic). Her and her Ba walk up to them and start making small talk before her Ba and Virana break off to chat with other dignitaries, leaving Raya and Namaari together.

Raya likes how Namaari relaxes around her when its just them, despite the room full of people. They talk and banter and tease and laugh, but more than anything Raya just likes being with Namaari. And when Namaari mentions how much she hates formal wear, how dresses don't suit her, Raya makes it a game to see how many times she can mention how beautiful Namaari looks while they're talking, just because it makes Namaari flush and do the hair thing she does when she's shy. No other heart-related reason.

Its not until much later when Raya suddenly remembers the gift she brought and she runs off to fetch it. When she returns she hands Namaari the sleek box with a smile and a sheepish "Happy Birthday dep'la".

And Namaari's blushing and smiling as she takes the box, telling Raya she didn't have to as she opens the box-

And immediately slams it shut. Her face turns bright red and she whorls on Raya with wide eyes and a panicked, hissed "whatareyoudoing?!" And poor Raya's totally thrown, so sure she'd picked out the perfect gift. "You don't like it?" But Namaari shoves the box back into her hands, with another frenzied whisper "thatsnotit!"

Well now Raya's a little miffed because "You didn't even look at it" and before Namaari can stop her she's pulling the dagger from the box and offering it back to Namaari.

Meanwhile the room goes incredibly quiet as everyone from Fang suddenly notices what's happening between the princesses. Virana nearly spits out her drink. Everyone else carries on like normal, but a few people watch their new Fang friends with curious looks, completely out of the loop.

So now Raya's essentially down on one knee without realizing it, Namaari's about to have a heart attack, everyone from Fang is on the edge of their seat, and the dragons are having a rousing drinking contest with people from Spine.

So the party is going great.

Raya (oblivious to the world save for Namaari) is giving Namaari her strongest puppy dog eyes because she'd spent so long looking for the perfect gift dep'la, and "You're pretty special Namaari, special to me, and you deserve it."

Namaari, as red faced as she is, softens at Raya's admission, smiling a little to herself before she takes the dagger from Raya with a soft "it's lovely dep'la".

And suddenly the room's loud again as people from Fang start clapping and whistling. Everyone else is lost but soon they join in as well, despite having no clue as to what they're cheering for. Namaari's back to being flustered and she grabs Raya's hand and hauls her toward Virana and Benja. Raya, finally taking in the room around them, is confused as to why people are congratulating her and Namaari.

Virana has recovered by the time the two approach and if no one knew better it might've also appeared she was trying hard not to smile. Namaari hisses something to her mother Raya doesn't hear, and she shoots her Ba a questioning look. Benja looks a little pensive but he's got a quirk in his lips that Raya knows means mischief.

Virana gently pats her daughter's shoulder before turning to address the room, excusing the four of them. They turn to leave but not before Virana calls out to the crowd, "And it goes without saying you're all invited to the wedding as well," and then ushers her horrified daughter, her baffled betrothed, and Benja out the door.

Instantly Namaari's in hysterics, asking her mother why she'd say that when Raya obviously didn't know what she was doing. Virana, quite obviously playing ignorance, asks why Namaari accepted the blade if she knew what she was doing. And poor Namaari can only gape, red faced and no come back.

Raya has finally caught on to what she's done and yeah, okay now it all makes sense. The vendor, Namaari's (gay) panic, the congratulations... she just proposed to Namaari. She just proposed to Namaari. In front of most of Kumandra. Oh toi!

Benja, still smirking to himself, ruffles Raya's hair before turning to Namaari and Virana and saying, "To be fair... Namaari did propose first."

Marriage proposals in Heart are an exchange of necklaces. So when Namaari had given Raya the Sisu pendant back when they were kids, they'd essentially gotten engaged and since Raya kept it, they've technically been engaged for the past six years.

(Too) Long story short, Raya and Namaari get engaged, get married, fall in love, and live sapphically ever after.

End.

(Okay, I'm done. Back to angst.)

[engie-ivy]

Another story for my candy heart fix from @goodboylupin and the Candy Hearts Challenge! Humour, lots of shameless flirting and a fed up Regulus.

Candy heart message: CRUSHIN'

Regulus has agreed to tutor a classmate in statistics, but quickly comes to regret his life choices when the only chance the guy seems interested in, is the chance of getting to snog Regulus’ older brother.

“You want to snog my brother!” Regulus points his pen accusingly in Remus’ direction.

Remus huffs and straightens his back. “In my defence, your brother is very snogable!”

Part one: Crushin'

Part two: Fallin'

What chance do I have? Part one: Crushin'

REGULUS BLACK: You can come over. My parents aren’t home.

REMUS LUPIN: ??

REGULUS BLACK: Oh my god. That sounded wrong.

REGULUS BLACK: I meant for the tutoring session.

REGULUS BLACK: I know my parents’ reputation. I thought you’d feel more comfortable coming here knowing they aren’t home.

REGULUS BLACK: I am NOT trying to hook up with you.

REMUS LUPIN: Oh thank god.

REMUS LUPIN: Not that you’re not an attractive guy.

REMUS LUPIN: I just don’t see you like that.

REMUS LUPIN: And I mean, you’re probably a bit young for me.

REGULUS BLACK: Lupin.

REGULUS BLACK: Please shut up.

Remus drops his phone on his bed with a shudder.

He’s not a bad student. He knows all about history and writes killer political essays. He’s just terrible with numbers, but he needs to pass his statistics course.

Regulus is a quiet guy, but he’s nice enough. Rumour has it that his parents are these excessively pushy and high-demanding lot, who bully their children to do nothing but study and threaten the school into letting them skip grades. Apparently, they want their eldest son to become the youngest doctor in town, and their youngest son the youngest lawyer, just so they can brag about their advanced children to their posh friends. They’re lucky both their sons are actually very intelligent. Regulus is in Remus’ class, despite being much younger, and they say his older brother, who should be somewhere around Remus’ age, is already in college.

In any case, Regulus won’t pass up the opportunity to earn some extra credit by tutoring Remus in statistics over the summer.

The house of the Black family is exactly like Remus would’ve pictured it. Very old-fashioned, with weird, old objects everywhere, but while some houses packed with old stuff seem warm and cosy, the Blacks’ house just seems cold and dark.

Remus is sitting at the kitchen table watching Regulus flip through textbooks, talking about how they’ll start with refreshing his knowledge on basic chance calculation before moving on to z-scores and significance tests.

Remus is already bored.

Suddenly, a tall, muscular, slightly sweaty guy barges into the kitchen. He’s wearing running shoes, shorts and a t-shirt that clings to his form and shows off his broad shoulders. As good as the shirt looks on him, Remus isn’t complaining when he takes it off, revealing his well-trained torso.

“Jesus, it’s warm outside,” the guy says, dropping the shirt on the floor while pulling the hair tie out of his hair and letting it fall in dark waves across his shoulders. He grabs a water bottle out of the fridge, and throws his head back to drink, spilling some water that drips down over his chest.

As Remus not very subtly ogles the guy, he wonders whether statistics was so boring that he zoned out and is now in some sort of hormonal teenage fantasy. Well, he hopes that if that were the case, he would’ve at least not fantasized Regulus sitting there, glaring from the guy, to Remus, and back to the guy.

“Sirius!” Regulus eventually snaps. “We have a guest.” He gestures at Remus.

The guy, Sirius, who must be the older brother, turns his head and only now spots Remus sitting there. He smiles sheepishly at him. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hello,” Remus says, and they just look and smile at each other for a while.

Then, Remus leans his head on his hands, giving the guy a sweet smile. “So, do you come here often?”

Sirius blinks at him. “Eh, yeah. Yeah, I do. I kind of live here.” He quickly recovers himself. “What about you? You’re a classmate of Reggie? You must be new. I don’t recall seeing you when I went to school there, and I definitely would’ve remembered a face like yours.”

Remus grins. “Yes, my parents moved around a lot, so I went to a lot of different schools.”

Sirius raises his water bottle. “Well, here’s to hoping you’ll stick around this time.” He takes a swig and then grins. “And hoping you’re so bad at... statistics, was it? That you’ll be coming around here more often.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Remus says, looking up at Sirius through his lashes. “I’m bad. I’m very, very bad.”

A slight flush appears in Sirius’ neck, but the grin stays in place. “Good. Then I guess I’ll be seeing you. I’ll try to keep my shirt on next time.”

“Don’t trouble yourself on my account!” Remus calls after Sirius as he leaves the kitchen.

As he stares through the window at other side of the house into the backyard, where Sirius has gone to stretch, Remus can feel Regulus’ eyes burning on him.

“What?”

“You want to snog my brother!” Regulus points his pen accusingly in Remus’ direction.

Remus huffs and straightens his back. “In my defence, your brother is very snogable!”

Regulus shakes his head. “What is it that people see in him?”

Remus points towards the backyard, where Sirius is just bending over to stretch the back of his legs. He doesn’t think he needs any more explanation.

Regulus groans.

The second tutoring session, Sirius walks into the kitchen in low-hanging sweatpants, clearly just out of the shower, with damp hair and a towel around his neck, again shirtless.

He smiles as he sees Remus. “How is it every time I see you I’m not wearing a shirt?”

“I guess I’m just lucky?” Remus suggests.

“I know chance calculation isn’t your strong suit,” Regulus says without looking up from his book. “But considering the fact that Sirius walks around shirtless ninety percent of the time, you don’t need much luck. In fact, it would’ve been more impressive if you saw Sirius with his shirt on.”

Remus lets his eyes wander over Sirius’ muscular chest and abs. “I highly doubt it.”

Regulus’ eyes snap up as Sirius sits down on the kitchen counter. “No. You. Out. Now.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “You’re kicking me out of my own kitchen in my own house? I’m not disturbing you.”

“Lupin has enough trouble learning anything as it is, without you sitting there making eyes at him, turning his brain to mush.”

Sirius glances at Remus, who just shrugs. Regulus isn’t wrong.

The third tutoring session is, to Remus’ disappointment, at his house. He’d wanted to protest, but Mr and Mrs Black are apparently back from their business trip, and shamelessly flirting with Regulus’ hot, older brother in front of their strict, high-society parents seemed a little awkward anyway.

When Remus opens the door, a disgruntled looking Regulus immediately pushes past him and strides into the house, leaving Remus looking at a brightly smiling Sirius.

“Hi! Regulus wanted to ride his bike here, but you know, it’s probably going to rain, so I thought it better to give him a ride in my car instead.”

Remus looks up at the clear blue sky with the sun shining brightly, not a cloud to be seen anywhere.

“I see,” Remus says. “And I suppose you have to give him a ride home as well?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“And it’ll be a lot of trouble if you have to drive all the way up and down again.”

“So much trouble indeed.”

“The best thing is probably for you to just stay here.”

“That sure seems like the best solution to me.”

For the fourth tutoring session, Remus has lost track of time sitting at the kitchen table at the Black family home, drinking tea and chatting with Sirius. Remus is telling him about all the different places he has lived, and Sirius is telling him what it’s like to be in college at his age.

REGULUS BLACK: What’s keeping you?

REMUS LUPIN: ?

REMUS LUPIN: I’ve been at your house for like more than an hour, waiting for you to come down from your room?

“You said you’d let me know when Lupin got here!” Regulus points a finger at Sirius.

Sirius blinks innocently at him. “It slipped my mind. I have such a bad memory.”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “You know the Latin name for each part of the human body by heart!”

“Did you know Remus wants to study history?” Sirius says, not very subtly changing the subject. “Won’t he just make the cutest professor?”

“Not so much as you’ll make the hottest doctor!” Remus replies.

“Yes,” Regulus says, while placing his books on the table. “I’m sure the scientific community and the world of medicine will be greatly benefitted from your good looks.”

Remus sighs.

Sirius has just gone upstairs after Regulus threw a book at his head when he interrupted his explanation for the fifth time, distracting a very willingly-distracted Remus with cute dog videos.

Remus sighs again.

Undeterred, Regulus keeps on talking about some jar of marbles out of which Remus for some reason only wants to take the red ones.

Remus sighs again.

“Is there any chance you’re going to stop doing that if I keep ignoring you?”

Remus shakes his head, and Regulus drops his pen and looks up at him. “Okay, what is it?”

“I don’t think I want to snog your brother anymore,” Remus says.

He had expected Regulus to be relieved, but instead something fiercely protective flashes over his face. “I swear to god, Lupin, if you were just leading him on all this time...”

“What? No!” Remus quickly says. “I just mean that I don’t want to just snog your brother anymore. I think I actually like him! Like, like like him! I think I have a crush on your brother! You know, the massive, won’t-go-away-on-his-own kind.”

Regulus just stares at him.

“I mean, at first I just thought he was incredibly hot, funny and charming,” Remus continues. “But now I found out he’s also clever, sweet and caring!” Remus’ tone makes it sound like it’s the worst betrayal he’s ever experienced.

“And this is a problem how?” Regulus asks.

“He’s in college!” Remus exclaims. “He’s probably just looking for a fun summer flirt to pass his time before school starts again, and now he has ruined me for other men forever!”

Regulus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lupin, I know you’re terrible at chance calculation, so I’m going to put this in words even you can understand. The chance of my brother being into you is one hundred percent.”

“Really?” Remus’ face brightens.

Now it’s Regulus’ turn to sigh. “I never thought I’d ever be saying this, but I’ve had enough. Lupin, will you please go upstairs and snog my brother?”

Remus knocks once and then steps into Sirius’ bedroom. He’s immediately backed up0 against the door by Sirius’ body pressing against him. Sirius’ arms wrap around his waist and Remus’ arms almost automatically wrap around his neck, so he’ll soon be able to finally run his fingers through that perfect hair.

Their faces are so close together Remus can feel Sirius’ breath as he speaks. “Took you long enough.”

Part two

[bungeenomin]

DELINQUENT- JAEMIN X Y/N SOCIAL MEDIA AU {22}

you have always had a really big conscience. honestly, you aren’t sure if it’s a good or a bad thing. obviously, it helps you be a good person. always listening to your conscience and trying to do right. on the other hand, when things don’t go one hundred percent right, you spend a long time dwelling on mistakes and decisions. 

that’s exactly what you’re doing now, as you turn over in bed yet again, staring at your digital clock to see it’s 11:48 am, and all you can think about is how you pissed na jaemin off. what’s he going to do? how will he change his attitude towards you? how angry is he? is he upset? 

all these thoughts bounce around in your head but are interrupted as you jump and hide under the covers, a squeak leaving your lips in the process. as well as always having a conscience, you have always been petrified of thunder and lightening and right now, you don’t think you’ll get a wink of sleep tonight between your mind being in overdrive and the thunder and lightening taking over the night. 

you don’t know what you’re thinking when you get up out of bed. you don’t know what you’re thinking when you leave your room. you don’t know what you’re thinking when you knock on his door. you don’t know if you’re thinking at all. 

“y/n?” a sleepy looking messy haired jaemin questions, confused as to what exactly it is you’re doing at his door at midnight on a monday night. 

“j-jaemin i know you’re really mad at me and i’m super sorry i really am but i-” a scream falls from your mouth at another loud crash of thunder, “i’m really really scared of thunder, can i please stay with you?” 

jaemin is honestly baffled. all you do is complain about him, miss tutoring sessions without even telling him, and now here you are, at his door shaking asking can you stay here. “uh, sure?” jaemin replies, moving out of your way, surprised by how fast you run passed him and into the room. 

jaemin furrows his eyebrow when he see’s you sitting on the floor, your arms wrapped around your knees, your body both shaking from fear and coldness, as you’re pyjama shorts and tshirt don’t allow for much heat on a night like this. “there’s room in here” jaemin says, genuinely serious, as he gets back into his bed. 

“absolutely not” you scoff from your position on the floor, “i’ll sleep here, on the carpet”

“suit yourself” jaemin rolls his eyes, “here” he says, tossing you one of his hoodies, oversized on jaemin and surely huge on you. “you look freezing” he mumbles before tucking himself in under the sheets. 

there’s a few minutes of extremely, extremely awkward silence. the only sound filling the room being you and jaemin’s breathing, and the rain pounding against the window. this time, when the thunder sounds, you scream, hiding your face with your hands. 

“y/n just come up here, you’re not going to sleep on a carpet with this storm”

“jaemin no i-”

“y/n stop being so stubborn, i’m not going to try anything. i wouldn’t call you wetting yourself because of a storm in any way sexy” jaemin sighs, pulling up the bed sheets for you to climb under, which after much hesitation, you did. 

once again, a very awkward silence washes over the two of you. from being at each other’s throats, to laying in bed together, things are a little weird. “shouldn’t you be banging on sungchan’s door?” jaemin questions

“huh?”

“why did you come to me, and not sungchan?” 

“well you’re right beside me, and you don’t have a roommate either. why would i go to sungchan in the first place?”

“just a question” jaemin replies simply. 

both of your attentions are drawn to jaemin’s bedside table, when he gets a text notification. “can you just check who it is?” jaemin asks, clearly not bothered to lean over you and check. 

a small smile forms on your face when you see the message. “mama said goodnight nana with a red love heart” 

jaemin groans after you read out the message, embarrassed that you saw that side of him. “erase that from your memory”

“is that what your mom calls you? nana?” 

“yes” jaemin sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

“it’s cute. can i call you that too?” you nervously ask. 

“no. only my mom and my br-” jaemin is interrupted by two screams filling the room at the sound of thunder. 

a small giggle escapes your lips. “na jaemin did you just scream because of the thunder?”

“no” jaemin scoffs, “i did it so you wouldn’t feel left out”

“sure” you giggle, pleasantly surprised by how not irritating jaemin is being tonight, especially after what you did today. 

“i’m really really sorry about today jaemin. i really am. i promise it won’t happen again” you say, genuinely sorry for bailing on him. 

jaemin sighs softly, a small yawn leaving his lips. “it’s fine y/n, just don’t do it again. now come on, try and get some sleep, it’s late” jaemin yawns again. what you weren’t expecting was jaemin to wrap his arm around you and pull you close to him by the back. you don’t know why you’ve done a lot of things tonight, and you certainly don’t know why you say nothing about jaemin’s actions. you also don’t know why it feels so nice. you know jaemin’s a flirt, but you know that his arm isn’t around you right now to try and get with you. jaemin knows you’re scared, and you know he clearly is a little bit too, so you know that arm is for comfort. for both of you. it’s nice. 

jaemin is quick to fall asleep, clearly tired after the day. you lay there comfortably, eyes closed and with jaemin’s arm around you. you shove one of your cold hands into the pocket of the hoodie you’re wearing, jaemin’s hoodie, trying to heat it up. to your surprise, your hand lands on a small piece of paper. curiosity taking the better of you, you decide to see what it is. you can’t hold back the smile that takes over your face when you read what’s on the piece of paper. it’s a receipt. a receipt for a brown bear, and a valentines day card. 

———————————————————————

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let me know what you think!

social media!au jaemin!au nct!au

pairing: jaemin x reader

genre: boarding school!au badboy!au fluff smut angst

warnings: drinking, smoking

summary: when your boarding school is forced to close, you and your friends move to the next nearest boarding school, neo high. you’re full of nerves as you enter the school. will your roommate be nice? your classmates? the teachers? but what happens when the only other person with a single room, situated beside yours, is the boy you can only describe as a delinquent that knocked all your books on the floor after running into you in the hallway?

tag list:

@neocluefor @obligatoryidolblog @thatonekpopsweater @bubudays @ajhdr @yoongsicles @taeilsith @queen-of-himbos @uhyikesbro @your-favourite-skittles @whoe-dis @vitaminhyunjin @moonylvi @yancupidxhyunjin @ygiirl @markistheloveofmylife @nctxtrash @sweetbulletproof @simplicitysbabe @staysstrays @fabshua @key201303 @ksoolive @angelbyg @junglewoos @bby-kji9 @helo-xx @wassup-haeyadwae @wanlore @cloudykeiji @daisyxiao @skittlez-area512 @moseleyleyhey @hen-marks99 @xiaojunsmintchocci @dingzerenistall @notbeforelong @blusopie

ask to be added!

[white-hemlock]

For @drarrymicrofic

Prompt: First Time (am I late?)

Words: 3 238 (micro lol)

He woke up at the sound of people arguing. He couldn’t make out much though. Pain was coursing through his entire body. His head in particular.

He felt someone moving by his side and soon after the pain began to fade away.

"You have to leave. I'll come back later to inform you of his condition but right now I need to take care of my patient."

"I have been waiting for twenty hours. Twenty hours! You had plenty of time to inform me. So if you want me to leave this room you will have to give me answers, and satisfying ones. Otherwise you can be sure I'll be in your way until I lose it and finally strangle you!"

He opened his eyes. He saw two men in front of him. The one with the white coat and tired and disapproving look was obviously a doctor. The other one was tall with short blond hair and a very classy suit. The doctor noticed that he was awake and gave the other man an even more disapproving look.

"Mr Potter, I apologize for the noise. I'll lead Mr Malfoy to the exit and be back for you."

But the so-called Mr Malfoy was already by his side: "How do you feel?"

He looked at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out what was going on: "I'm fine but who are you?"

The man raised an eyebrow and gave him a look of pure confusion.

The doctor sighed: "That is precisely why I wanted to speak to you before allowing you to see him... Mr Potter, you had a serious accident. We believe that the trauma on your head may have resulted in a partial, if not total, memory loss."

He paused, allowing the two men in front of him to assimilate his words.

"Can you tell us what you remember?"

He opened his mouth to answer. But the words didn't come and he closed it. He couldn't think of anything. It was not really a blank. He felt as if the memories were right there but as soon as he wanted to grab one, it eluded.

Feeling his confusion, the doctor tried to help him: "Can you tell us your name?"

That should have been easy. But again, it slipped away. So, in embarrassment, he replied: "You called me Mr Potter."

The man at his side snorted and with a cold and most unpleasant voice he hurled: "If this is a joke, you'd better put an end to this because it really doesn't amuse me and you might not like the consequences."

He started to feel irritated by the way this man was behaving. He was arrogant and presumptuous, nothing very likable.

"I'm afraid this is no joke… Sir, your name is Harry Potter, you are 34 years old, you work as an Auror and were injured on duty. The man by your side is your husband. " He paused, aware of the awkwardness of the situation. "Now rest assured we will do everything to assist you in your recovery. There are many ways to help people suffering from amnesia. But for the moment, you need to rest. Mr Malfoy, please follow me."

Harry had felt a wave of horror when the doctor had told him that this tall blond man was his husband. He had never imagined he could be someone so close. If this man was sharing his life, how could he feel nothing looking at him? How could he not remember his name? Then he realised he couldn't even remember his own name. He looked into Mr Malfoy's eyes and saw a reflection of his own shock and fear. But the blond man said nothing as he slowly got up and followed the doctor, leaving him all alone with his thoughts and his fleeing memories.

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

The couple had just left. Hermione and Ron they called themselves. They seemed really nice. He was glad to know he had friends like that. They told him a lot about his life. The life of the Boy who lived, twice. Three times now, they said as a joke. But their laughter never reached their eyes.

Everything seemed so unreal, as if he were told the story of someone else. He, the hero who saved the world? Really?

He asked them about his husband as well. Draco Malfoy. There was a very awkward silence before Hermione started to share the story of the young boy, raised in a pure blood family, son of the closest ally to the one who killed his parents. They told him plenty about their rivalry at school and his difficult position during the war. Not so much about how they ended up together. He didn't insist. It was already a lot to process. He was exhausted.

He woke up an hour later when his husband entered the room. The man saw his sleepy face and offered to come back later but Harry declined. He was uncomfortable when Malfoy was around. That man was his husband but didn't behave that way. Not once had he made an affectionate gesture, nor told him he loved him, nor called him by a nickname. He didn’t even smile at him. He was distant but also embarrassed and Harry couldn't blame him for that.

This time he came with a bag from which he took what looked like a large and heavy book.

"The doctor suggested that pictures could help. We never really took time to create a proper album so I tried to gather a few pics…"

He looked exhausted, his eyes were red and his shirt was creased.

He sat on the chair by his side and dropped the album on his knees. Harry stared at the cover with apprehension. It was one thing to hear his story from the mouths of others, it was another to see images of himself living a life he couldn't remember.

He took a deep breath and opened it.

The first photo he saw was one of a couple dancing near a fountain.

"These are your parents. Don't bother trying to remember them, you were one when they died. I thought you might want to know what they looked like though."

He had shifty eyes and seemed even more uncomfortable than usual. Harry didn't comment and listened to his explanations as he browsed through pictures of his parents, their friends, his godfather. Eventually he started to see pictures of him, as a young boy with a young Ron and a young Hermione. Him with other friends. Malfoy even added some articles from the newspaper. And as he turned the pages he saw himself becoming older. He saw himself with a baby making his first steps. His godson apparently. He saw himself at Hermione and Ron's wedding. Then himself holding another baby. Rose he said, his friends' daughter.

As time passed he was less and less talkative. But Harry didn't mind. He didn't need more, that was already a huge amount of information to assimilate. It was hard to accept that the young man with messy dark hair in those pictures was himself.

Soon after he started to see pictures of him and Malfoy. And his husband fell completely silent. There was a picture of Malfoy rolling his eyes in some restaurant, a picture of him struggling with a tie, fancy-dressed for some occasion, a picture of the two of them at Christmas where he was watching Malfoy unwrapping a present, a loving smile on his face.

He paused a long time at the sight of him in a prestigious black and gold wizard dress, Malfoy by his side in full white and silver, flowers falling all over them. Malfoy was whispering something in his ear, making him laugh out loud. They seemed genuinely happy, both of them.

He glanced at Malfoy but the man was looking somewhere else, his jaw clenched. Harry felt sad and a bit angry. None of these pictures were bringing any memory, not any emotion, not even a vague feeling of déjà-vu. He could only imagine his husband's disappointment.

He kept browsing through the pictures of his wedding, hoping one of them would trigger something. There were pictures of them in an exotic country, on a white sand beach. More Christmas. A picture of him holding another baby. A picture of his husband holding that same baby. And more and more pictures of this baby, turning into a white blond hair child, always smiling from ear to ear. He felt a shudder of horror crawling down his spine as he turned the pages and kept seeing that kid playing with him, hugging him.

Unable to continue, he put the book down.

"Malfoy…” He took a deep breath, shivering “Draco?"

As he called him by his first name for the first time since he woke up, his husband turned his head slowly to face him, demons in the eyes.

"Do we… Do we have a child?"

Draco didn't answer right away. First he leaned down to turn a new page of the book, revealing the picture of them with the young boy holding a tiny baby the best he could, his smile wider than ever.

"Two actually…"

Silence fell as Harry froze. He felt nauseous. How could he? How could he forget something that important, forget that he was a father, that he had a family?

He stared at his husband, hoping for an impossible answer.

Draco tried to explain, his voice broken:

"I didn't know how to tell you… I'm sorry."

And he burst into tears.

And for the first time he saw that proud, lordly man in all his vulnerability. For the first time, what was a mask finally fell down.

He squeezed his arm, hoping to provide some sort of comfort as the tears kept falling down.

A weird thought crossed his mind. He surprised himself thinking of a bathroom and leaking water, of coldness and red blood running on white tiles. Definitely not an appropriate thought for the situation, so he pushed it away.

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

Harry was waiting in front of the main chimney. Draco came toward him, showing a file in his hand:

"All done! Are you ready?"

Harry breathed deeply; he was not ready, he was terrified.

"No, but I don't think I'll ever be."

Draco grabbed a pot filled with floo powder before handing it to his husband:

"I told you everything you need to know. Even if you miss a few things, they'll forgive you. They know about your accident and they are so eager to see you that details won't matter."

Harry nodded and grabbed a handful of the green powder before entering the chimney. He gave a last look at his husband and gathered all his courage to yell the address Draco gave him before dropping the powder.

The first thing he noticed when exiting the floo was the smell. A complex mix of wood, coffee, hot bread, lemon, herbs and so many things indescribable. But a somehow very familiar smell. He knew that scent. He knew it so much it moved him. It was linked with a feeling of safety, of love and happiness. It reminded him of relief when coming back from work, busy mornings, animated lunch… it smelled like home.

Draco joined him right before a tiny blond storm rushed toward him, yelling:

"DADDYYYYYYY"

Unconsciously, Harry kneeled down and opened his arms, catching his son and hugging him tight. The boy started to cry and Harry felt overwhelmed. A few tears rolled down his cheek as he realised that for the time he understood, deeply understood that the story people had told him was true. This was his home, this was his child. He may not remember everything but he knew all this was part of his life.

He raised his head and noticed a little boy hiding behind Draco's leg. He moved an arm to invite him to join the hug but the child didn't move. With a very small voice he asked:

"Are you still my daddy if you can't remember me?"

The question hit him like a punch in the stomach. Draco had warned him. Albus didn't talk much but when he did he always surprised them with a maturity way too advanced for his age. He tried to compose himself and answered:

"I may not remember everything, I may have forgotten the day you were born, your first words, your first steps... but nothing, you hear me, nothing will ever stop me from being your father. I am still here and we'll make new memories together, I swear." His voice broke. It wasn't fair. A child shouldn't question his father's love. Especially not his own child.

Slowly, one tiny step after another, Albus reached for his father, hugged him and grabbed his t-shirt so tight, Harry felt as if it was his heart that was squeezed by this tiny hand. He suddenly remembered staying up all night, trying to soothe a terrified baby Albus holding his finger as if his life depended on it while a thunderstorm was shaking the windows.

Finally, he thought. It wasn't much but it was a start.

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

Harry was enjoying a glass of firewhisky in front of the fireplace when Draco came in, poured himself a glass and sat by his side on the sofa, obviously exhausted.

"Two hours later, they are finally asleep!"

Harry giggled softly:

"I could have done it, you know. It really doesn't bother me."

Draco frowned.

"Of that I have no doubt. But it's been weeks since you came home and it's time they accept being tucked in by their other father."

Harry smiled but didn't answer. Draco was right of course, but he really liked sharing that moment with his two sons.

His husband suddenly stood up and took a letter from the coffee table.

"The minister asked me to give you this. They want you to come back to work quickly. Again. I don't understand how they can harass you like that after what happened. What would it take for them to give you a break? You losing an arm?!"

He sat down on the couch and emptied the glass in a single shot.

Harry didn't even bother to open the letter. He made it fly directly to the fireplace. His husband raised an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation.

"I'll answer by telling them that I quit. That should calm them down."

Draco couldn't hide his surprise.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I certainly had very good reasons to do this job but I think I've done more than my part. It's time I get a bit more selfish and focus on myself."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet… something far less dangerous, that's for sure."

They fell silent as they both watched the flames devouring the paper. Draco was obviously concerned but Harry gave him time to put the right words on his feelings. When he finally spoke, Draco avoided his eyes, like he did when he felt vulnerable.

"If you ever want to ask for divorce I would understand… All the reasons you married me probably disappeared with the rest of your memories."

Harry couldn't help but smile and took a sip of his drink before answering.

"You know when I first woke up, I thought that you were an arrogant little prat."

His smile widened when he saw a faint blush on Draco's cheeks.

"Then I realized that there was more to you than met the eye. Every passing day I understand a little more why I married you in the first place. It would be a shame to end things now, don't you think?"

His husband didn't answer right away and Harry added, suddenly more serious:

"That is if you want to give it a try as well. After all, I probably changed and I may not be the man you married anymore."

Draco took a few seconds to consider the matter, his eyes lost in the dancing flames of their chimney.

"You did change. You seem more… peaceful. I guess some memories are best forgotten."

He stopped and Harry turned toward him, his arm laying on the back of the sofa.

"You didn't answer the question."

Draco smirked and Harry noticed that he really liked the curve it gave to his thin lips when he did so.

"In sickness and health. Those were my vows. And I still remember them. Sure I wasn't expecting amnesia but I still knew that with you it was far from being empty words."

He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something else but closed it as he changed his mind.

Harry exhorted him to keep going.

"But?"

Draco bit his lips and stared at his empty glass.

"No but. I still want to believe in us. It's just… complicated. In the beginning I felt as if you were a complete stranger. Almost as if my husband was dead and his body was being possessed. And yet sometimes you do or say something and I feel like nothing ever happened. The weirdest part is that it makes me feel… guilty. Almost as if I was cheating on my husband with you." He paused and nervously tapped his glass with his long fingers. "Sorry, that's ridiculous."

Harry smiled tenderly. There was something about Draco's vulnerability that was touching and addicting. The fact that he chose to expose himself to him and only him was the only thing really making him feel like the Chosen One.

"It's not ridiculous. I myself am struggling to make a connection between who I am and who I was." He added with amusement:

"You know what's ridiculous? The links my brain makes sometimes! I mean, the smell of wet grass makes me think of Quidditch games with Scorpius. OK, I get it. I must have played with him many times while it was rainy. The smell of your shampoo under the shower makes me horny. I think I can get that one too. But why on earth would I think of cinnamon cookies when I see you smile?"

And to his greatest surprise, Draco burst into laughter. A real, uncontrolled laugh, brightening every cell of his face. For the first time since he woke up, Draco let go of the fears, the doubts and the sorrows, only to fully embrace the moment. And he was gorgeous that way.

Draco bit his bottom lip to regain control and explained with a mischievous smile: " Well I may have tried something called positive reinforcement to make you like me when we both started working for the minister. But damn, I didn't know it worked that well."

Harry didn't listen, still mesmerized by Draco's smile. He felt a sudden burst of heat as his heart missed a beat. The words left his lips before he could even understand them.

"I think I'm falling in love with you again."

He almost regretted his words when Draco's smile froze. But then a small blush colored his husband's cheeks and as they closed the gap between them, nothing else mattered.

Their kiss was soft and shy. A light touch of their lips, asking for a permission to hope, slowly getting firmer as if to anchor the moment into reality.

It was far from being their first kiss, but it definitely felt like one.

[after-witch]

Title: Oh Honey Honey ('Oh Sugar Sugar' Part 2) (Yandere L Lawliet x Reader)

Title: Oh Honey Honey ('Oh Sugar Sugar' Part 2) (Yandere L Lawliet x Reader)

Synopsis: The newest regular to frequent your little pastry shop is a little unusual, but his appreciation of your craft is a welcome distraction from the terrifying suspicion that you may have a stalker.

notes: yandere, stalker behavior

You waved cheerfully at a little boy through the glass window of your store, as his grandfather gently urged him along the street; he was maybe 2 or 3, and had practically shrieked in joy when his grandfather bought him the biggest, cutest looking cupcake you'd had in the display that morning.

With the store empty for the moment, you turned back to your daily specialty case and decided to give it a quick cleaning. A regular, the older gentlemen who'd recently revealed that all the treats were actually for an associate, was due to arrive soon, and he typically bought up most of your special case. You leaned over the front counter, grabbed a rag and a bottle of cleaning solution, and gave the glass a quick spritz. You were humming to yourself when you heard the door bells jingling.

You turned, smile ready, expecting the older gentlemen--and almost flinched in surprise. It was not your regular, but someone new. He had lanky dark hair and wore an unassuming, casual outfit consisting of a white shirt and jeans. 

You swiftly stepped behind the register. “Can I help you today, sir?” 

"Yes, in fact," the man said. "I'm here to give my compliments in person." 

Confusion must have registered on your face, for he continued. "I normally have an associate buy my pastries for me. But I wanted to see your shop for myself, so..."

"Oh!" 

You hadn't meant to say it out loud, but you couldn't help it; nor could you help the more genuine smile that you gave the man who'd bought hundreds of dollars worth of pastries in such a short time period. Baking was your passion--but it was your business, too, and you couldn't help but truly appreciate people who supported that business. "I'm so glad to finally meet you! Thank you for all your business."

You held out your hand jovially, and the man came forward to accept it with a low, firm and slightly awkward handshake. When he pulled away, he glanced at his hand for a moment, before returning his gaze back to you. You couldn't help but hope he was getting enough sleep.

"I should be thanking you," he said. "For all the pastries, I mean."

At that, you beamed. "Well! Let me show you what's in our special case today..."

**

You had a stalker. Well, maybe you had a stalker. You weren't quite sure. All you knew for sure was that something was... off, lately. At first, you attributed it to getting less sleep than normal. With your bakery busier than ever, thanks to your new regular and even a nice business contract supply 2 dozen breakfast muffins every morning, you weren't getting as much sleep. 

So it would only be normal, you thought, to be a little on edge. A little testy. But less sleep didn't account for the odd, creeping feeling that you were being watched, especially at night. You could have swore you heard strange sounds, too... whirring or clicks. Cameras? You didn't know.

Nor did a lack of sleep account for some things that had gone missing from your apartment. A favorite nightgown you liked to sleep in; a favorite mug. the berry-red one you’d gotten two Christmases ago; even, as you discovered one morning, a lingerie set that you'd tried on once and then been too embarrassed to wear again. Still, it was expensive and the thought that someone had taken it--and why someone would take it--made you feel sick.

To say that you were not your usual chipper self for the rest of the morning was an understatement. You did your best to smile for the customers that came in, but even they must have sensed something was wrong; you even got extra tips from a regular, an elderly woman who tut-tutted you and told you that you should consider taking a weekend off.

The thought was tempting, but you knew that with running a small business came sacrifices--including the inability to just "take off." Still, you thought, you could take a little nap. A short one, 25 minutes, tops. You didn't often temporarily close up shop for breaks, but it was quiet and you weren't likely to get too many sales before the lunch rush, anyway.

As you were about to flip the sign, however, a figure suddenly walked up to the door. You jumped, then internally scolded yourself for being ridiculous--it was just your regular, or "Ahh, Mr. Regular?," as he'd awkwardly suggested you call him when you’d asked for his name. It was odd, but, the man was also downing an exceptional amount of sugar while buying up entire cases worth of your goods on the regular, so it wasn't your place to judge.

You bit your cheek to suppress a sigh of frustration and opened the door, stepping back so he could come in.

"Oh," he said, "are you closing?"

You smiled, or tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything resembling your typical sweet countenance. "No, no, I was just going to close up for a nap... I mean a break." You shook your head. You shouldn't bother customers with talks about naps, it probably made you sound lazy.

He quirked his head slightly, staring at you almost intensely. "Yes..." he said softly, almost murmuring. "I see those circles under your eyes... you haven't been sleeping well."

The personal turn of the conversation made you feel awkward. You looked away, embarrassed. You hated the idea of customers seeing you as anything other than the cheery pastry shop lady, a source of sugar and sweetness and delicious goodies. "Um," you said, "I guess not, I've just been a little, you know--out of it. You know how things go."

You laughed, mirthless and empty, and gestured towards the case. "So, anyway. I actually don't have many special pastries today, I've been a little busy." You mentally slapped yourself for giving excuses, even bland ones, though it wasn't like you were lying. 

You'd woken up early so you could head into work and finish off some really nice specialty items you'd baked last night, but rummaging around your drawers for something to wear led you to realize the lingerie was missing, and you'd spent 2 hours drifting between panic and disgust.

But rather than walk towards the case and pick out today's purchases, your regular simply stood in front of you. Head slightly quirked still, eyes expressive--concerned, you thought, he looks concerned about me. 

You couldn't deny that a customer worrying about you brought up conflicting emotions; frustration, because you didn't want to mess with your public persona; and a warm mixture of comfort and flattery. Someone liked your pastries enough to care about you.

"Is everything all right?" He said, finally. "Are you feeling sick? Or is something else keeping you up?"

You stared, feeling lost for words. You didn't really know him, and you hadn’t even told your friends about your potential stalker. But the weight of the past few weeks, the build-up of fear and disgust and stress, seemed to push you down until you found yourself sliding into one of your cafe chairs. He followed suit, pulling his knees up until he practically crouched on the seat.

You hesitated. Should you really be telling him any of this? “I… don’t want to bother you with any of my personal problems.”

“It’s not bothering me. I’m curious,” he said, lightly.

You sighed. Here goes, you thought. “I… I have a stalker?” Your hesitancy quickly morphed into an awkward blurting. “I mean, I think I do. I’m not sure. It’s just the past few weeks. I keep hearing these weird noises. And I feel like I’m being watched.” You bit your lip. “And someone took my underpants?”

Actually vocalizing the thought made you realize that it could just all be in your head. I mean, whirring noises? Missing lingerie? Maybe there were ants in the walls and you’d donated the set and forgot about it.

You half expected him to look embarrassed and give an excuse to leave. But instead, he looked thoughtfully at you. “Hmm. Have you called the police?”

It was you who felt embarrassed now. “No…” You shrugged. “I mean, what can they do, anyway? I don’t have any proof.”

He regarded you with a grim nod. “That’s true. They won’t act without evidence.” He gave a little huffy sigh of his own. “Well… if it were up to me, I’d do a stake out. See if anyone comes into your place at night. I could get some equipment, if you want.”

You smiled--subtle and soft, but a genuine smile. At least he didn’t think you were crazy. At least he validated your feelings. And he’d offered to help, even if you would never feel comfortable taking him up on that offer.

“I appreciate it,” you said. “But maybe I’m just being paranoid. I don’t want to drag you into all this…” You sat up straighter and decided to change the subject--you’d had enough worrying about a stalker for one day. “Say, do you want to see the kitchen? I need to finish up a cake I started last night, for the special case. Maybe you can pick out the fruit toppings?”

For a moment, your regular looked shocked.  He nodded, slowly. His expression never quite fully recovered its normal neutrality, and he stood up almost cautiously before following your lead into the open kitchen door accessed from behind the counter.

“Sorry for the mess,” you say lightly. “I didn’t have time to start dishes yet.” You gestured towards a countertop where a small cake stuffed with mascarpone and nestled within a layer of marzipan sat. There were little dollops of cream forming a circle on the top of the cake. “I’m going to top it with some fruits, why don’t you pick out which ones you like?” You covered your mouth, suddenly. “I mean--if you want to buy it, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He cleared his throat and a small smile flickered across his lips. “Of course I’ll buy it. Your cakes are delicious.”

You laughed a little, showing your teeth, and took out some little jars of fresh fruits from a small fridge underneath the counter. As he looked over them, you turned and began tossing a few empty pots, pans and stirrers into the sink so that they could soak. You couldn’t help but hum a little, used to singing while you clean.

“Yes, I’ve decided,” he said suddenly. You turned around and saw him staring right at you.

“Decided?” You asked. Something about the way he was looking at you felt familiar. You thought about whirring.

“On strawberries,” he replied. He slowly held up the bowl of freshly cut, ripe red berries. “For my cake.”

**

L sat, crouched on the couch, staring at the video he’d taken of today’s events. You confided in him, which was delightful. You’d smiled at him, which was even better. Watching you put the glorious finishing touches on a scrumptious pastry in the kitchen was just... well. Icing on the cake.

He pressed a button on the controller and rewound the video to the moment where you'd laughed, light and airy and perfectly melodious to his ears. Your smile was genuine, then--not the constrained smile you'd given when he'd interrupted your nap plans; nor was it the sometimes plastic smile you wore when you were clearly exhausted with giving endlessly bright customer service.

Your real smile was something to be treasured. Especially, he thought to himself, because it will be a long while before he sees it again. You won’t be smiling much after he kidnaps you--after he acquires you, he corrected himself. 

According to his calculations, you won't start feeling more accepting of your situation for at least a few months, but it may be sooner (or later) depending on certain variables. You will be scared first, he knew--scared and maybe angry with him for deceiving you and trapping you. And that wouldn’t be very conducive to the smile and laughter he’d quickly become addicted to taking in.

He lifted up your favorite mug and took a sip of the warm coffee inside, relishing the last bits of your lipstick left on the rim, before rewinding the video to watch you again. Time will heal your wounds--but in the mean time, he will be so very generous and patient with you.

[thebonerpit]

cheerleader [FIC]

cheerleader

Rom Howney, 3896 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

A very seasonally appropriate fic in which Robert throws a Halloween party. Tom hates Halloween but decides to wear a costume he's wanted to try for years.

“I just don’t understand it.”

Tom frowns as he stares at the racks upon racks of zombies, clowns, vampires, and sexy nurses in front of him.

“I mean, to be fair, you don’t understand much of anything, do you mate?”

“Fuck off,” Tom says, whacking Harrison on the arm. “But seriously! Why do Americans go so absolutely mental for this stupid holiday?”

“Again, having trouble with the fact that you, an actor, who plays dress-up FOR A LIVING, doesn’t understand this. It’s not like this is any weirder than a fancy dress party. Plus, you get candy!”

Ok, he does have a point there.

Tom lets out a deep sigh. He wouldn’t even be bothering with all this if it weren’t for Robert. An invitation appeared in his inbox last week for a Halloween party, and when you’re invited to a Halloween party at Robert Downey Jr.’s house, you don’t turn it down. Even if Halloween is incredibly stupid. He shuffles along through the rows of costumes, rolling his eyes at werewolf masks and inflatable dinosaurs.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters. Harrison groans, his hands already full of the various parts of a Mad Hatter costume.

“Just pick something, who cares?!”

“There’s too many options!”

“Ok, look. Halloween is the chance to dress any way you want to and have no one judge you for it. Just think about that. What have you always wanted to be?”

Tom immediately knows what the answer is, but instead of replying he just huffs and turns down another aisle that’s covered in fairy wings and glitter. He can’t possibly do it. Especially not for this party. For Robert’s party. It would be… inappropriate. He rounds the corner again and is faced with a shockingly huge assortment of superhero costumes. A foam version of Thor’s hammer sits on the shelf to his right, and he smirks as he picks it up and gives it a good twirl.

“In your face, Hemsworth,” he mutters quietly.

There’s a whole row of different Spider-Man costumes which makes him smile, especially when he sees a flimsy synthetic fabric version of the Iron Spider suit. And right next to that – a placement that thrills him even more than the suit alone - are the Iron Man costumes. Plastic faceplates, arc reactor gloves with LED lights, fabric onesies with fake, puffy muscles sewn in… it’s all there. Tom runs a finger along the edge of the faceplate before snatching his hand away like he’s been burned.

It’s all he can think about, even as they leave the store after Harrison buys his costume and Tom walks out empty-handed. He thinks about it on the ride home and through dinner until he finally makes excuses and runs off to hide in his room, laptop in hand, and puts on Iron Man 2. It doesn’t take long to get to the scene he wants. Tony Stark, diving through fireworks, landing on a flashy stage, surrounded by his Ironettes. Tom bites his lip as he stares intently at the bright red booty shorts, the long gloves, the crop tops… maybe, if he altered it just a bit, if he wore the mask… He can already feel his face heating up at the prospect of walking into Robert’s house dressed like that. Would he laugh? Would he be weirded out? Or… would he like it? Tom pushes the laptop off to the side and lets the movie play as he touches himself, coming to the sound of Robert’s voice in his headphones.

* * * * *

Tom is going to throw up. It’s inevitable, at this point. He’s in the back of a car squished between Harry and Harrison and he’s going to throw up. His stomach is in knots and he can’t remember ever being this nervous in his life. He’s used to the fluttering before a big stage performance or audition, but those nerves are more like excitement. This is sheer terror and he is going to THROW UP.

“Can you calm down? Jesus, you’re going to ruin my costume if you don’t stop squirming!” Harrison jabs a sharp elbow into his side and Tom jerks away into Harry who pushes him back.

“I just… I need some air.”

“The windows are all open! Take the mask off!”

That is the absolute last thing he wants to do. He was only able to leave the house in this costume with the mask securely over his face and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to take it off. He must be red as a tomato.

“Look, we’re here!” Harry crows. The car finally comes to a stop and they all pile out. Tom wants to collapse on the soft grass but he’s pulled along by four strong hands.

“Maybe I should… Look, I’ll just wait out here for a bit, ok? I just need—”

“Nope, absolutely not. Look mate, we already told you, he’s going to love it. Maybe not in the way you want him to-“ Tom punches Harry in the arm for that “-BUT, regardless, he’ll love it. You look great. And this is coming from someone who never turns down an opportunity to tell you you’re an ugly twat.”

“That was… almost sweet,” Tom says, and then yelps as they both drag him inside.

The party is in full swing and is absolutely packed with people. Small groups are standing around chatting, all in costume, and a live band is playing in the huge backyard to a crowded dancefloor. Tom recognizes only a few people – it’s hard to miss Scarlett even when she’s dressed like Morticia Addams – but that doesn’t bother him. Normally he loves mingling and meeting new people, and even dressed as he is it’s still exciting. It’s even easier after he quickly downs a few strong drinks, careful to only pull up the mask as far as it needs to go. The urge to vomit has pretty much dissipated and he’s actually beginning to enjoy himself, twirling around the dancefloor like a maniac until he’s slightly sweaty and out of breath.

“Water break!” he yells to Harry and squeezes through the crowd of people to get some air and hydrate. He finds a relatively quiet corner where he can chug half a water bottle in peace and is enjoying the cool air on his skin when someone taps him on the shoulder. He startles and nearly drops the bottle but manages to save it before turning around.

“Nice catch.”

Oh fuck. It’s him. It’s Robert. He hasn’t seen him the whole evening and assumed he was off being a good host so the whole thing almost slipped his mind, but now it’s all rushing back and he has to grip on to the fence post beside him to steady himself.

“Love the costume. Not exactly how I remember the Ironettes looking but I gotta say, this might be an improvement.”

Tom nearly chokes. He decided he couldn’t pull off the real Ironette costume as the distinct lack of breasts made it look a little awkward. So, he improvised. The shiny red and gold booty shorts stayed, of course. They made his ass look incredible. He bought the long red and gold arc reactor gloves and the plastic faceplate from the Halloween store, and instead of heeled boots he found a pair of gold high-tops and knee-high red socks. The shirt was the most difficult part, though. He went through a few variations before settling on something cute and comfortable: a red, cropped tank top. It was a bit loose and thin, so it flowed around his chest nicely and was short enough to show off his abs and his tiny waist. He also managed to find an LED necklace to serve as his arc reactor. It glowed a soft blue through the thin fabric of the shirt. Overall, he’s incredibly proud of what he came up with. Especially for someone who hates Halloween.

And now, with the way Robert is staring at him, he’s VERY happy he was brave enough to wear it.

“Is there someone under that gorgeous mask? Or are you too shy to say hello?”

Tom steels himself, takes a deep breath, and pulls the mask off.

Robert’s face goes through a myriad of emotions almost all at once. Shock, delight, amusement, and what is unmistakably arousal.

“Well. Tom Holland. As I live and breathe.” His voice is lower than before, more intimate, and when he takes a step forward Tom swears he feels the temperature go up by at least two degrees. He also notices that Robert is wearing eyeliner. The black kohl makes his eyes look even more gorgeous, and then there’s the red glitter dusted across his cheeks and around his hairline that is giving him an almost eerie glow.

“What are you supposed to be, then?” Tom asks. Robert smirks and points to the two small horns sticking out from his hair.

“The Devil, of course.”

“Of course,” Tom repeats weakly. It was barely a costume, the deep maroon suit looking more like red carpet attire than anything else, but fuck it looked incredible on him.

“I am the purveyor of sin on this fine evening,” he says, gesturing to the party, “so I thought I’d play the part. But you… you look far more sinful than me.”

Tom squeaks as Robert steps even closer and taps at the arc reactor on his chest.

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“Just… just wanted to show you how much of a fan I am… Mr. Stark.”

Robert’s eyes snap up to Tom’s and he doesn’t think he’s ever been looked at so intensely in his entire life.

“Is that so… Mr. Parker?”

Tom whines, loud enough for Robert to hear it. His hand travels down Tom’s body to squeeze at the bare skin of his waist.

“I think—”

“Robert!!”

They both jerk back as if they’re waking up from a trance. Someone is yelling for Robert and waving him inside, and he acknowledges them with a quick gesture. Turning back to Tom, he licks his lips and leans in to whisper in his ear.

“I think we’ll have to continue this later. Don’t leave without saying goodnight. Alright?”

“Yeah. Yes. O-ok. See you later,” Tom stutters, and when Robert disappears inside he chugs the rest of the water bottle and collapses back against the fence to catch his breath.

* * * * *

All the telltale signs of a party winding down are there. Most people have left, the band has stopped playing leaving only some low background music emanating from the speakers around the house, and the guests that remain are splayed out on various couches and chairs, half their costumes missing and happily drunk. The kitchen is a disaster and Tom feels bad adding more bottles to the mess, but he’s on a mission and can’t stop to tidy. After his run-in with Robert he only saw him briefly a few more times, mostly through a massive crowd, but he didn’t forget his words from earlier.

Don’t leave without saying goodnight.

Harrison and Harry have already gone home. They tried to get him to come with but Tom pretended to be enthralled in a conversation and told them he’d catch up in a bit. Now he’s wandering the massive house, peeking into various rooms as he looks for Robert. He gave up on wearing the mask after they met in the yard so it’s pushed up on his head like some sort of strange visor, his curls a sweaty mess beneath it. The second floor is quiet and empty; no one really came up here during the party anyway so it’s also much cleaner. A set of closed double doors is in front of him, and it’s the only place he hasn’t looked, so…

Tom slowly opens one door and pokes his head inside. Robert is lounging on a massive bed, scrolling on an iPad, glasses perched on his nose. He’s still got the horns on his head, and when he glances up over the rim of his glasses to smirk at Tom, he really does look positively devilish.

“Found you,” Tom says, trying to appear completely casual when his heart feels like it’s about to explode from under his ribcage.

“So you did. Come in. Close the door.”

Robert makes no effort to move so Tom slowly walks over to the bed, suddenly very conscious of how tight his shorts are as Robert unabashedly roams over his body with hungry eyes. He stops at the edge and toes at the plush carpet with one foot.

“Have you been drinking?”

Tom nods.

“How much?”

“Not that much,” Tom replies, understanding what Robert is trying to ask. “But maybe just enough to give me some liquid courage.”

Robert raises an eyebrow but waits patiently for Tom to make the first move, only shifting slightly to drop the iPad and his glasses on the nightstand. Guess it’s now or never.

He kneels on the edge of the bed with one leg first, testing the waters. Robert stays perfectly still. A deep inhale to steady himself and then Tom goes for it, pushing up on the bed and straddling Robert’s lap. He hesitates for only a moment before settling right on the seam of those expensive maroon trousers.

A pleased hum rumbles out of Robert’s chest as he runs two smooth, warm hands up Tom’s spread thighs to his waist.

“My own personal cheerleader, hm? I always knew you looked up to me but I never expected this… Pete.”

He catches Tom’s eye and gives him a brief wink. Tom’s heart speeds up even more as excitement bubbles in his stomach. Playing. Robert is playing with him. He was desperately hoping he wouldn’t drop this, leave it as the brief tease it was back in the yard. Acting with Robert is one of his favourite things in the entire world, and being able to do it like this? God, for the first time he’s actually happy that Tony Stark is dead because he’s never going to be able to act across from him again without thinking of this moment.

Robert nuzzles into his neck and starts leaving wet, sucking kisses all along the line of his throat. Tom shivers at the sensation and then starts to giggle when the tickle of Robert’s beard is too much against his sensitive skin. Robert laughs into his neck and nips playfully.

“You’re so darn cute,” he whispers. Robert has always been free with his compliments, telling Tom he’s handsome or pretty or talented, but somehow it just hits different when his hands are also squeezing Tom’s ass.

“Want to touch you, Mr. Stark,” Tom murmurs into his ear, easily switching his accent to sound even more like Peter. He feels Robert shudder underneath him and can’t help the pleased smirk that crosses his face.

“Yeah?” Robert says, grasping his chin gently so he can look into his eyes. “Do you even know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

Tom absolutely knows what he’s doing, but Peter…

“I… uh… I was hoping you could teach me. I’m a really quick learner, sir,” he says softly.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Robert mutters, breaking character for a moment. He collects himself quickly though, shifting Tom in his lap just enough so he can undo his trousers and pull himself out. Tom’s mouth literally waters at the sight of Robert’s dick and he uses every ounce of willpower not to just pounce on him immediately.

“Want to feel your mouth, Pete,” Robert says, rubbing a thumb along Tom’s lower lip. “You can go slow. Use your tongue.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Tom replies, trying not to sound too eager. He shuffles down a little and purposely sticks his ass up in the air. The red and gold shimmer on the shorts catches the dim light and he gives his hips a quick wiggle when he sees Robert staring.

“Maybe I should’ve reworked the design on your suit, hm? You like wearing little shorts like this?”

Tom nods and presses his face into the curls at the base of Robert’s dick, inhaling the scent of him. He feels the thick cock jerk against his cheek and angles his head to lick up the whole length of it, swirling his tongue at the tip. The bitter taste of precome blooms in his mouth and he moans, forgetting himself for a moment as he starts to give a much more experienced blowjob than what Peter would be capable of. Robert knocks the mask off Tom’s head so he can tighten his hand in his messy curls.

“Jesus,” Robert groans, “you’re good at this, kid.”

“Mmm, just want to make you feel good, sir,” Tom hums. He manages to remove one of the arc reactor gloves so he can grip Robert’s cock while he uses his mouth everywhere he can reach.

“Well, you’re doing a—fuck, god—a damn fine job.”

Tom thinks he could stay here forever, on his knees, mouth stretched almost painfully around Robert’s cock. He explores up his chest with his other hand, rubbing at one nipple with his thumb which makes Robert jerk underneath him.

“Keep doing that,” Robert spits out as he pushes Tom’s head down even further. He gags a bit but the incredible sensation of being stuffed and used overrides everything else and he takes every inch Robert gives him while tugging and pinching at his apparently very sensitive nipples. He drifts for a bit, so content and fuzzy, and only comes back when Robert pulls him off and throws him down on the bed.

“Pull up that shirt for me, sweetheart. Gonna paint your pretty chest with my come.”

“Oh my god, fuck, yes, please, please, want it,” Tom moans, shoving the fabric out of the way as Robert jerks himself off quickly above him. He can’t decide whether to watch his dick or his face when he finally comes, thick and white all over his chest and the arc reactor necklace. Robert’s slightly red in the face and gasping for breath as he steadies himself with a hand beside Tom’s head. Tom leans to the side to kiss at his knuckles and then dares to run his fingers through the come on the necklace and bring it to his mouth to taste.

“You’re going to give an old man a heart attack,” Robert says. His pupils are all blown out as he watches Tom hollow his cheeks as he sucks. Tom understands the feeling. He’s so hard in his shorts that it’s painful.

“Please,” he whispers, biting his lip, “will you touch me, Mr. Stark?”

“It would be a pleasure, Mr. Parker,” he replies. He palms him over the shorts which makes Tom buck into his hand. “As much as I love these… they have to go.”

The shorts are so tight that they both struggle to pull them down but finally they’re tossed off to a distant corner of the bedroom and Tom hisses as Robert immediately get his mouth on his cock. It feels absolutely heavenly, especially after being trapped in the confines of that uncomfortable fabric for so long. Robert takes his time, licks and sucks everywhere he can, all the way down to that sensitive spot right behind his balls. Tom whimpers as his tongue gets so fucking close to his hole but then pulls away.

“Want to use my fingers… s’that ok?”

“Y-yeah, please, yes!”

Robert grabs some lube from the nightstand and even warms it first before sliding one thick finger over Tom’s hole, pressing just the tip inside. Aside from the thrill of having Robert’s finger inside of him, the most incredible part is that he doesn’t stop sucking him off. The level of coordination is astounding and Tom would have complimented him on it if he was able to speak beyond moans and pleas for more. A second finger quickly joins the first and Tom’s body accepts it without hesitation.

“Good boy,” Robert murmurs in between gentle licks, “look at you, hm? So pretty and pink.”

Robert shifts him down a bit more which makes his legs fall open even wider. He feels so exposed and whines a little, trying to draw his knees close without squeezing Robert too much.

“Aw, don’t be shy sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” Robert says. “You can put your legs up on me if that helps, ok?”

He hears the rubber of his high-tops squeak against Robert’s skin and somehow the sound is more obscene than anything else. He tries not to thump his heels too hard but fuck, Robert is doing something with his tongue that should be illegal and Tom can’t stop squirming. A low chuckle reverberates against his stomach as Robert pulls off briefly, his fingers still working in slow, gentle pushes.

“Aren’t you sensitive, hm?”

“P-please, Ro—Mr. Stark, please, need to come,” Tom begs, accent slipping slightly as he tries to shove himself down even deeper on Robert’s thick fingers. He’s held in place by the firm grip of Robert’s other hand on his waist and he whines petulantly.

“Anything for my favourite little spider,” Robert coos. He crooks his fingers and Tom arches up off the bed like he’s been shocked. He feels like he’s been on the edge since they first met in the yard and now Robert’s fingers are pressing right on his prostate and his hot mouth is back on his dick and he doesn’t think he could possibly hold off any longer if he tried.

“Gonna… gonna…” Tom’s whole body is taut, like a wire ready to snap, and when Robert takes him all the way down his throat he comes with a ragged gasp. Distantly he thinks he should be considerate and pull out but it’s like his body isn’t under his control anymore, and even though he hears wet choking noises it seems like Robert is just fine with him coming in his mouth. His fingers have stopped moving and he lets Tom clench around them for a few moments before gently sliding them out. Tom whines at the loss even though he’s so oversensitive right now he couldn’t possibly take anymore.

After taking a minute to catch his breath and regain any semblance of normal brain function, he finally looks down. Robert’s eyeliner is smudged and Tom feels a bizarre sense of pride about it. He can’t stop running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair which is also a complete mess.

“Just FYI,” Robert finally says, his voice a little raspy, “you’re going to be finding red glitter in every nook and cranny for about three years after this.” He punctuates that sentence by rubbing his cheek against Tom’s thigh, grinning as he does it.

“You’re a dick,” Tom says fondly, giggling even more as Robert continues to just rub his face all over his body. “But can’t say I’m gonna care that much if I’m being reminded about this.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Robert says, that absolutely devilish grin returning, “I can give you more than just glitter for that.” Tom squeals as he starts sucking a deep bruise into the inside of one thigh, teeth marks and all, that Tom presses on every time he sees it for the next week.

[vs-redemption]

I JUST CAME UP WITH THE CUTEST THING EVER!

Okok so UA prom night. Bakugou and reader have had secret crushes on each other but like it’s obvious to everyone except each other. Prom is prince/princess themed ok? Everyone goes in groups rather than singles bc no one wants to be left out right?

Bakugou and Reader are crowned prom king and queen!!! And they get their own dance while everyone watches — the song is the Beauty and the beast (a perfect fit for the two). And I think it’s adorable and maybe maybe they kiss 🤭

-🐱❤️

From Cindy: Okay so... lol inspiration for this suddenly smacked me in the brain and it ended up being so long (1,761 words). I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t stop. I had so much fun writing this so thank you 🐱 anon for another great idea.

Prom (Bakugo x Fem!Reader)

When your friends decided to attend your senior prom as a group rather than go through the trouble of finding dates, it was both a blessing and a curse for you. On the one hand, going with the social circle that you’d spent every moment of your high school years with provided the guarantee that you’d have a good time at the prince and princess themed dance no matter what. Plus, you wouldn’t end up in the awkward situation of either being rejected or getting stuck trying to make conversation with a single person the entire night. The downside though was that you had a very specific person in mind who you’d been dreaming of going to prom with ever since he’d caught your eye during the entrance exam to get into UA.

That person was Katsuki Bakugo.

It wasn’t as if you thought you had a chance with the explosive boy in question. He was in the same class as you after all, and although you had formed a weird sort of friendship over the years, he’d never shown any signs that he might return your feelings. And boy, did you have feelings. Through all the intense hero trainings and group study sessions, you’d really been able to get to know the ins and outs of his personality. You knew Bakugo came across as arrogant and abrasive at first glance, but somehow you’d never been able to see him that way. In your eyes, he was the most hardworking and passionate student in the whole school. You couldn’t help but admire how confident he was in his own strength and determination. Ever since his admittedly wild behavior during the sports festival in your first year, people had doubted his choice to pursue a career as a hero and criticized the way he interacted with other people. Never once did he waver in his goal though. He just continued to blaze forward, studying and training hard with that same unwavering persistence that you both loved and envied.

“You look amazing in that dress!” Mina winks and throws you a thumbs up as you all crowd in the dormitory bathroom to help each other get ready.

“Yellow really is your color,” Momo agrees with a smile. “People might actually mistake you for a real princess.”

“Stop!” You were blushing a little from all the attention and from the way your thoughts ran wild with fantasies of Bakugo finally noticing you as more than just a fellow hero course student. “We’re all going to look amazing tonight.”

“Good,” Hagakure chimes in, her pink dress fluttering around her invisible body as she twirled in front of the mirror. “We can’t make it too easy for the judges to pick the prom king and queen!”

Once everyone was ready, the group made their way down to the common room where all the boys were waiting. They all looked handsome and uncharacteristically dressed up in their suits, but you only had eyes for one of them. It was almost unfair how good Bakugo looked. His spikey blonde hair and fiery red eyes were already enough to give you butterflies, but the way his dark blue suit jacket fit perfectly over his broad shoulders and tapered down to show off his narrow waist had you feeling even more flustered.

“You idiots finally ready?” He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets casually. You couldn’t help but smile, remembering the way he’d carried on about dances being lame and how there was no way he’d go. You knew from the start that it was all talk. There was no way he would’ve allowed himself to disappoint his friends like that. He cared about all of them more than he’d ever admit.

The dance coordinators at the school had gone above and beyond when decorating the gymnasium which now looked like a scene out of a fairytale. Everywhere you looked had twinkling lights and cutouts of castle towers and horse drawn carriages. You and your friends made your way inside, smiling and waving to familiar faces from other classes and taking in the atmosphere created by the lighting and music. Finally, you noticed the platform set up in the back of the room where two empty thrones sat for the prom king and queen.

“All right! I’m ready to dance now!” Mina cheers once most students had arrived and the DJ, also known as Present Mic, had started to play more upbeat music. You followed her and the rest of the group to the center of the room and jumped right into the action. Time passed quickly as you got lost in the music and dancing, taking breaks every now and then to get something to drink and rehydrate. Never once though did you lose track of Bakugo’s presence. Whether he was on the dance floor, or off to the side talking to one of the others, you always seemed to know where he was like there was some sort of magnetic pull. It didn’t stop you from having a good time, but it made you wonder how much more magical the night would be if you could just steal even a single moment alone with him.

“All right! It’s that time of the night kids!” Present Mic announces later in the evening. “It’s time to announce this year’s prom king and queen!”

The room quiets down and everyone huddles together, feeling the building anticipation over the big reveal. You knew it was only the popular and good looking people that usually got chosen, but you were still excited, hoping that someone from your class might get the chance to wear the symbolic crown or tiara. Present Mic holds up a note that he must’ve gotten from one of the judges and looks down to read the names.

“And the results are in!” he says overdramatically, “Everyone give it up for your king and queen.”

The first name to come tumbling out of the man’s mouth was Bakugo’s, making you freeze up a bit and turn to look at him in shock. Of course he deserved it, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous already of the girl that would get to have the one on one dance with him after being crowned. The noise in the room seemed to fade out as you watched your crush turn and start walking right toward you, suddenly offering you his hand.

“Wh-what?” You didn’t understand, especially since the rest of the girls were suddenly squealing in your ear and patting you on the back.

“He just called both our names, dummy,” the insult comes out as a term of endearment which was normal for Bakugo, but the slight pink blush covering his cheeks was definitely new. He takes your hand into his and you awkwardly follow him up to the platform almost in a daze. You hadn’t even heard Present Mic call your name, but suddenly he was placing a glittery tiara on top of your head and a crown on top of Bakugo’s.

“Are you two ready for your dance?” the teacher asks. Truthfully you weren’t but you find yourself nodding anyway, your mind still trying to catch up with your body.

“You all right?” Bakugo asks, sounding just as uncomfortable as he pulls you into the middle of the room which was now clear of people. You were kind of surprised he was going along with all of this so easily, but before you could think about it any further “tale as old as time” starts to play over the sound system causing your face to heat up in embarrassment. You nod wordlessly again, answering his question. Suddenly he’s pulling you closer, one hand holding your own and the other sliding cautiously to the middle of your back.

For a moment, you are way too caught up with wondering how you’d ended up in such a situation to actually enjoy the way Bakugo starts to gently sway you back and forth to the music. A quick squeeze to your combined hands forces you back to the present and you look up at him nervously. “There you are, princess,” he lets out a short laugh. “I was starting to get worried for a second.”

“P-princess?” You stutter out the nickname. Bakugo’s confidence slips for a second and he averts his eyes, the pink on his cheeks becoming more pronounced.

“Well… it fits the situation, doesn’t it?” he mumbles before glancing up. “We’re royalty now.” Some of the tension leaves your body at his predictable behavior and you let out a small laugh.

“Only for tonight,” You point out, your lips forming a sad smile as you both continue to move across the floor to the music.

“It… uh… it doesn’t have to be,” he blurts out, his eyes continuing to look down.

“What do you mean?” your question comes out sounding breathless and the intensity of his gaze when it meets yours makes your stomach do a flip.

“I mean, this is kind of how I originally pictured prom to go before all those idiots suggested coming as a group.” He was still mumbling a bit but you heard every word.

“You were going to ask me to be your date?” You ask, your voice laced with shock and disbelief. He swallows thickly and then nods his head. The simple gesture fills your heart with happiness and you lean closer into him and tuck your head into his chest. All too soon, the song comes to an end and you’re forced to pull away. You don’t get too far before Bakugo is tugging you back and pressing a warm kiss to your cheek.

“If it’s all right with you,” he says softly while lifting up your hand in his, “I’d like to hold onto this for a little while.” You smile happily and lean forward to return his kiss.

“Bakugo, you can hold onto it for as long as you like,” you tell him honestly. His eyes light up at your words and he looks very much like the prince you had always imagined him to be.

After a moment, a new song began to play and the dance floor filled up with students again. You and Bakugo go back up to the platform to sit in your designated thrones while all your friends crowd around the two of you, congratulating and teasing you both. Surrounded by your closest friends with Bakugo’s hand clutched firmly in your own, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending to your prom night fairytale.