#this is for my own benefit because I get lost with it too but I'm a total Joan of Arc fanboy so I have to understand the causes of the war | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

talesofesther · 1 year ago

Text

make it taste like love

Loki x Reader

Summary: You felt him before you even met him. And despite the pain he carried around, his soul was one of the most beautiful you'd ever seen.

A/N: A spur-of-the-moment idea that I simply couldn't ignore. I really hope you guys enjoy it, and yes I'm working on part two of my series with Loki as well. <3

Word count: 6k

Masterlist

The battle had left its mark on everyone, both physically and mentally. All the lives that were lost wouldn't be brought back. But everyone took solace in the fact that Thanos and his army were no longer a threat. And now, it was a time for rebuilding.

Wakanda's grassland was a battlefield. Bodies of both friend and foe lay scattered on the ground. The mourning loomed heavy in the air, you could feel it weighing down on your chest, your throat, and lungs. It was suffocating, prickling into your skin like needles. Yet you still walked, your boots crushing the grass underneath while you avoided stepping on stretched arms and legs, you needed to make sure no one else remained left behind.

A few feet away, the mad titan who once threatened the entire universe lay lifeless on the ground, his head disconnected from his body. For him, you felt no pity.

King T'Challa was both happy and sad to see you and the others leave. Happy, because it meant the end of a war; sad, because of having to say farewell to dear friends. But you, Steve, Natasha, and Banner were needed back in town, back at the Avengers compound; to welcome Tony back on earth, and because Thanos' attack had reverberated in many other places. It seemed like the Avengers were back in the game.

─── ·❆· ───

This morning was a gloomy one. Grey skies peeked behind your curtains in the early hours of the day, maybe it would rain soon. It's been two weeks since the battle, and you were glad to see that most people were recovering; each in their own way, but recovering nonetheless.

You were already up when the clock hit 7:30 AM, holding a warm cup of coffee between your hands, and staring out into the compound's driveway and past the treeline through the big windows of the kitchen. Today would be the day that Thor came back, he'd been helping with the settling of his people in New Asgard until now, but you've heard about him not wanting to be king anymore. You were happy for him, you never did think that a ruler's life suited him anyway—and you missed your friend.

"He gets one chance, Rogers. One chance and that's it." Tony's voice suddenly caught your attention as he stepped into the kitchen, you turned your back to the window so you could watch as your resident Iron Man poured himself a cup of coffee without looking at his mug. Steve was right beside him, his hands on his hips as he sighed quietly, already all too used to Tony's moods.

"Yes, one chance, he proved himself enough by helping us fight against Thanos, I suppose we owe him the benefit of the doubt," Steve agreed, still holding his voice calm.

With a smirk on your lips, you approached your teammates. "What's going on, guys?" You leaned on the kitchen island, taking a sip of your coffee.

Tony ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his expression less than pleased as he took a sip of his own coffee before saying; "point break is bringing his beloved brother to our home." He shrugged, and said in a quieter tone, "Says he changed or something."

"Loki will be staying with us?" You raised an eyebrow. The attack on New York happened before you joined the team, but you were familiar enough with it to be wary of Thor's brother, even if Thor did speak more nicely of him recently. Still, you had never actually met Loki to form your own opinion.

"That's… to be decided," Tony grumbled, shooting a glance toward Steve. "But yes, pretty much. And, by the way, Strange wasn't happy about having reindeer games back in the city either."

"Wow, you guys finally agree on something," you snickered.

Tony mouthed a 'don't' to you, before Steve said; "Strange knows we'll handle it if anything happens, but Thor vouches for him, so…"

You gave Steve a soft smile, and as much as you understood Tony's wariness, you agreed with the Captain. Loki didn't have the best of pasts with the City, but his help in the recent battle was one of many game-changers. He deserved a second chance.

Strangely enough, you found yourself excited to meet the God of Mischief. It was in your nature to analyze people, watch them from afar, and learn about the things they'd rather not say out loud. And someone like Loki, who had both once tried to take over your planet and now helped in saving it, was bound to raise some curiosity.

No more than an hour passed before you heard Thor's strong voice all the way from the living room. A small smile instantly came to your lips as you discarded your book, got up from the couch, and put on your slippers, rushing to the main doors to greet him.

Before you could turn the last corner, however, you came to an abrupt halt. Your breath got caught up in your throat and you had to lean back on the wall for support. Clutching the fabric of your shirt right above your heart, you were glad that this particular hallway was currently empty.

You could hear Thor's voice just around the corner, Tony was there too, but their words were faint and far away. Your vision was suddenly a little blurry, and underneath your palm you could feel your heart beating frantically.

See, this was nothing that hadn't happened before, after all, you are an empath. But a feeling this heavy rarely comes unannounced, unwanted. It briefly reminded you of when you first discovered your power, when you had no control and could pick up on pain, anger, joy, and pleasure that were not your own even if you didn't want to. Yet now, after years of living with it, you had learned to dose your perception of the feelings around you; now, when you weren't willingly focusing, other people's emotions felt more like a gentle whisper, a gush of chilly wind on your skin—something you were able to ignore if you wanted to.

But this overwhelming sadness; this emptiness, and loss, and pain; it came to you with such force that you were not able to block out. Seconds felt like hours, until the surprise of the new feeling passed and you took back control. Whispers of it remained, lurking in your stomach and in the back of your throat, but with a bit of extra focus, you were able to handle it.

And once your mind was finally clear again, it hit you. Who did you catch these feelings from?

You took a step around the corner cautiously, hands buried in your pockets as your eyes roamed your surroundings. There was no one around besides Tony, Thor, and Loki.

You knew it right away. You were familiar with the emotions radiating from Tony and Thor; but him, the raven-haired trickster, he was new, and if you didn't feel empathy for him before, you did now.

Loki held himself immaculately, a straight posture and a serene expression on his face. You had no idea how he did it, how he was able to hold all of those feelings in and still look so well put together; because one glance into his soul and you already felt like crying.

There was a light drizzle falling outside, maybe that's why Loki's black blazer seemed to be shining under the bright lights of the entrance hall. His eyes—bright and ocean-green—were settled on you; the realization got you feeling hyperaware of each movement you made. Even his gaze was heavy.

Thor's booming voice calling your name captured your attention then, he had a big smile on his face and before you knew it he already had your feet off the floor as he held you in a hug.

You laughed against his shoulder, hugging him back just as tight and telling him all about how much you missed him. Still, when you let go, your eyes found Loki's again, he hadn't stopped looking at you once.

─── ·❆· ───

The opinions about Loki's presence in the compound were mixed, but most of your teammates seemed fine with it; truth be told, no one paid much attention to him. As you'd expected, Loki's room was on your floor, because that's where Thor stayed too; as well as Tony, Natasha, and Yelena.

It's been a few days since his arrival, yet you haven't had the opportunity to properly speak with him, alone. But you've been feeling him a lot. Whether it was you subconsciously focusing on him more, or something else, it seemed like your body was more in tune and connected with his than you've ever been with anyone else. You picked up on a few of his emotions even if you weren't actively trying to; you felt his bouts of uneasiness when someone would stare at him for too long, you felt his gentle serenity whenever he'd sit near the windows to read a book, you felt his sparks of joy when people greeted him with a good morning or asked if he'd want coffee; but most of all, you still felt that lingering sadness that followed him everywhere he went, a weight he seemed to be all too used to having around.

In some ways, you felt as if you were invading his privacy, and that bothered you. During the day you tried to keep your mind as busy as you could to keep yourself from feeling him; in the late hours of the night though, when you were trying to sleep, there wasn't much you could do.

You have been tossing and turning in bed for probably about two hours now, drifting in and out of sleep. The crescent moon just outside your window seemed to be taunting you, amused with your misfortune. You scoffed as you glared at the natural satellite—great, now you were arguing with the cosmos.

Loki was having a nightmare. You could tell by the rapid beating of his heart and the cold sweat running down his forehead—your abilities went way beyond simply feeling other people's emotions, but sometimes you wished they wouldn't. It's not the first time that you've felt Loki's restless sleep in the short time he's been here. Your heart ached for him; it got you wanting to alleviate his pain.

But you couldn't do that, so you got up from your bed, put on your fluffy slippers, and made a beeline for the kitchen. The air outside was chilly, biting at your warm skin and making you shiver. At this hour of the night, the compound was completely dark and quiet, a big contrast to how it was when the sun was up. You asked Friday to turn on one of the lights in the kitchen, giving the space a dim-lit look as the single light bled into the adjacent living room.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, humming the lyrics of the song stuck in your head as you reached for the upper cabinet to grab a mug so you could make yourself some tea. When you turned around again though, a gasp escaped your mouth and you nearly dropped the mug you were holding. You cursed quietly under your breath, placing a hand over your heart; if you weren't fully awake before, you sure were now. "You scared me," you muttered, trying a small smile.

The reason for your lack of sleep stood before you, with dark green slippers that matched his button-up pajama shirt, and his hair the messier you've ever seen it be. "Sorry, it was not my intention," Loki smirked back at you.

It hit you that this was finally the first time you were alone with him, and you'd been caught off guard. You tapped your mug, opening your lips but no words came out. Loki's eyes remained on you, unwavering, yet his gaze was so… soft, gentle even; his eyebrows weren't creased and he patiently waited for you with his hands in the pockets of his checkered pajama pants. He didn't look like the god you usually saw roaming the halls during the day.

"It's alright. I was just making tea," you said finally, gesturing to your mug, "would you like me to make one for you too?"

Loki's surprise at your offer was so great that you felt it in your bones. What was he expecting you to do?

His lips parted only slightly and he straightened his posture before saying; "I would- yes, I would like that."

You couldn't help the full smile that came to your lips and crinkled the side of your eyes, "great, sit down, it'll be ready in just a moment."

The warm mug between your hands warmed up your skin. It felt nice, sitting like this with Loki; in a quiet kitchen with only you and him, and just the lonely light to your left softly highlighting his features in front of you. It was a peaceful silence, and you couldn't help but check if he felt it too.

The rhythm of his heart was calm, his soul felt light and at ease; not completely, but the most you've ever felt from him.

"Why are you here?" His sultry voice snapped you back to reality.

"Uh- I'm sorry?" You frowned.

"Why are you here, if I may ask?" Loki tilted his head amusedly, his fingers tracing the brim of his mug. "Thor mentioned you had… abilities, but he never specified what they are."

Now it was your turn to be surprised by his curiosity for you. "Well, to put it simply, I'm an empath," you told him.

Loki blinked, once, twice, at your response. He looked at you for a moment before inquiring further; "and to put it completely?"

You smirked then, folding your arms over the table. "I can feel people's emotions, if I want to; their anger, happiness, hesitation, fear. But I can also feel their heartbeats, the blood cursing through their bodies. I can tell when they're lying or telling the truth, if they're tired or hurt. And sometimes, I can influence those emotions," you paused, hesitating for a beat, "bring fear, or… take away pain."

Loki grew tense after learning of what you could do. To be fair, most people did at first, you were used to it. Be he felt different, his heartbeat sped up and stayed that way. He'd put his guard up, and it brought a pang of hurt to your chest.

"Are you always feeling everything then?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Gods, no," you breathed, "at first I did, and it was awful. But with time, I learned to control it." You tried smiling at him, but his eyes were downcast, focused on his mug.

You bit your lower lip in nervousness. Looking past Loki and out the window, you could see the first signs of the sunrise peeking over the horizon, dark skies turning a soft lilac and blue; you'd been here longer than you realized.

When Loki glanced up at you again, his bright eyes still held sparks of that same softness from earlier. He pursed his lips in a smile; "thank you for the tea." And with that, he got up and left, leaving you in the company of the first birds who always sang in the mornings.

─── ·❆· ───

You made Loki nervous. It wasn't a bad kind of nervous, it was the kind that sped up his heart and made his cold hands feel clammy.

Out of everyone in the compound, you were the kindest. You'd always shoot him a smile whenever you'd pass by each other in the hallways; you'd always save a seat for him at the table; you always respected his silence whenever you came into the library and caught him reading his book, saying a quiet hello and nothing more, just sitting on one of the armchairs with your own book and allowing him to enjoy his moment, and more recently, your presence too.

When he'd finally learned of your abilities, he got apprehensive, worried even; that you'd pick up on whatever it was that he felt when he was near you, and it would drive you away.

So far, it hasn't happened yet.

The sun was out today, and with it, so was everyone else. In the spacious backyard of the compound, Steve was in charge of the barbecue, and Tony was in charge of the drinks. Natasha had sunglasses covering her eyes while she and Clint bickered over a game of cards; Yelena was sitting beside her sister at the lunch table, however, she seemed to be on Clint's side of the argument. Thor and Banner were laughing together as they made fun of Steve's cooking skills, who tried to defend himself by saying he wasn't actually done yet. Tony looked like he was trying to convince Bucky to drink a dubious-looking beverage, the latter didn't seem too keen on it.

And Loki watched them from afar, from the living room window of his floor. Thor had asked that he join them downstairs, saying something about how he should start trying to fit in and mingle, instead of just existing in the others' presence. Making friends wasn't Loki's forte; as much as he'd fight not to admit it, he was still working up the courage.

With a long sigh, Loki turned around and made his way to the place where he'd been spending most of his free time.

The compound's library was quite huge. One of the few rooms in the whole facility that had warm colors painting the walls and lacked the modern look; tall wooden shelves held thousands of books, a soft beige carpet covered the floor, and there were armchairs and sofas scattered in corners and in-between shelves creating comfortable, isolated nooks for reading. Loki's favorite spot was a worn armchair that stood near one of the big windows, it was surrounded by books that most people didn't read anymore, and the window itself overlooked the treeline in which the sun hid behind at the end of every day; sometimes as he sat there to read, it reminded him of his room back in Asgard.

Loki walked brushing his fingers over the spine of the old books, watching as dust particles danced in the sunlight. But as he rounded the shelf that led to his spot, he abruptly stopped in his tracks, feet glued to the carpet.

You sat cross-legged on the worn armchair, with a thick book lying in your lap that held all of your attention; the sun was shining right behind you, creating a halo above your head and bathing the strands of your hair in golden. You looked like something out of his favorite tale, more enchanting than all of the Midgard poetry books he's ever read.

It seemed like you two were making a habit of bumping into each other unexpectedly.

Loki gulped, squaring his shoulders. A beat passed, and then two, until you finally noticed him from the corner of your eyes. You looked up at him with your eyebrows softly raised in surprise, a gentle smile lifted the sides of your mouth; "Loki, hi."

"Hello," Loki greeted you slowly, his eyes shifting from the book in your lap to your eyes, "shouldn't you be out with the others, enjoying the sun?"

"Should I?" You narrowed your eyes, lazily closing your book and getting up from the armchair. "Shouldn't you?" You asked then, smirking as you raised an eyebrow and took a step towards him.

Loki's heart stumbled inside his chest, he breathed out a laugh. "I'm not big on hangouts."

You hummed, burying your hands in the pockets of your jeans. "Why is that?"

For a moment, Loki dwelled on whether to be honest or come up with an easy lie. But you were looking up at him with such delicacy, such attention, not a trace of hatred or judgment in your warm eyes. It almost looked as if you cared... about him.

Loki breathed in sharply through his nose, the words rolled off his tongue on their own; "I doubt many of your friends would enjoy my presence there."

You blinked up at him, lips parting before you told him quietly; "I would."

There was a distant burning behind Loki's eyes, his mouth felt dry. No one had ever rendered him completely speechless before, yet now, you had done just that. With his silence, you avoided his eyes and ran your tongue over your bottom lip in a motion that he couldn't help but follow.

"And..." You continued, voice sweet as honey, traveling between the bookshelves in the secluded library, "We'll never know if we don't try, right?"

The way you referred to you and him as 'we' got a foreign feeling blossoming inside Loki's chest, all warm and tingly. When you offered him your hand, so you could guide him downstairs to meet the others, he took it.

─── ·❆· ───

After a full week of taking care of the whole city, Saturday nights were a time for having fun and relaxing; aka movie nights with the team. Everyone sat together in the main living room of the compound, Tony had labeled it 'mandatory bonding day'. The room itself was pretty spacious, dimly lit, with two big comfortable couches and a TV that almost covered the whole wall, and a small kitchen right beside it for easy snacks and drinks.

"Right, I'm thinking... Terminator." Tony suggested as he came from the kitchen with an extra large bowl of popcorn in his arms.

"We saw that one already," Steve complained as he fumbled with the remote.

"There are multiple ones," Tony said, smugly, as he plopped himself on the couch and threw popcorn in his mouth.

Thor, who sat beside you, suddenly perked up with a giddy smile on his face; "oh I've always enjoyed that one who has the girl with the long, magic hair." The god gestured to his own hair.

Tony gaped at him, his fingers holding the popcorn were frozen midair. "Tangled?" He exclaimed then, eyebrows raised, "You wanna watch Tangled? in my house?"

You fought to hide a smile. "Technically it's our house," you quipped, after all, you were to blame for Thor's love for the Disney movie.

"Why don't we just watch both? The night is still young," Yelena finally suggested from her spot by the corner of the couch.

As they continued bickering, your eyes finally caught sight of the one you'd been waiting for.

Loki walked into the living room quietly, his socked feet barely making any noise on the expensive flooring. His gaze found yours before he saw anything else in the room, and a gentle, shy smile appeared on his lips.

You'd grown very close, very fast. Loki had started seeking your presence more and more each passing day; during the mornings he'd wait for you with an extra cup of coffee in hand, during the missions it was already routine that you two were a pair, and during the night you never parted ways without him planting a kiss on your forehead first.

Never in your life had you met someone quite like him, who carried such a bruised heart and still managed to be so loving. It made you wonder if anyone had ever bothered to see how beautiful his soul was, for you had fallen in love with it before you even touched his skin.

You gently patted the vacant seat on your left side, lifting the thin blanket covering your legs so Loki could sit down, and once he did you draped part of it over his legs as well.

"What's today's punishment?" Loki smirked, making himself comfortable beside you. His shoulder flush with yours.

"Stop it, movie nights are nice. I know you secretly enjoy them too," you chuckled, bumping his knee with yours. His proximity raised goosebumps all over your skin, and if you weren't so focused on your own feelings, you would've felt how much Loki's heart was racing as well.

"I only come to these because you do too," Loki mumbled, his eyes focused on the TV and a frown appearing on his eyebrows as the first scenes from Tangled played on the screen.

Your breath caught on your throat. He had said it so casually, so easily. You wondered if he had even realized the weight of his own words. "Right," you whispered, a little breathless.

It didn't take long for the only light in the room to be the one coming from the TV. When Tangled hit the 45-minute mark, Tony was already snoring and Thor had finished two bowls of popcorn. You, however, were wide awake and fully aware of Loki's arm resting on the back of the couch. What a cliche move, you thought to yourself, your cheeks burning hot and biting back a smile.

Loki's face as he watched the movie was nothing short of comical, one would think he was watching a period drama; his lips hovering ever so slightly before he'd scoff at a musical scene, his eyes softening as the romance between Rapunzel and Flynn blossomed, the way he mindlessly played with the ends of your hair. You watched him more than you watched the movie, and you didn't miss the way he froze and gulped when you finally rested your head on his shoulder.

─── ·❆· ───

The day had started out fine; a cold yet sunny morning, your fingers brushing Loki's when he handed you your cup of coffee, no eminent trouble in the city, everything was normal and fine; until it took a turn for the worse.

You didn't hear the fight, you didn't know exactly what caused it, but you felt it immediately. Anger, hurt, and pain were suddenly heavy in the air even through the closed door of your bedroom. As soon as a shiver ran up and down your spine you got up and all but ran outside to chase the somber feeling.

The elevator doors of your floor weren't even fully open yet when Loki busted his way through them, Thor hot on his heels.

"I knew it was a mistake coming here," Loki snapped, his steps fast as he put as much distance between himself and Thor as he could, nearly running straight into you in the process.

"You know what, brother," Thor began, he had stopped walking, standing in the middle of the living room, "Maybe it really was a mistake to bring you here, you don't care about anyone but yourself, it's almost as if you enjoy hurting people, you can't help it. It'll always be like this, that's why you're better off on your own." Thor wasn't shouting, but his words rang loudly in the room; his chest heaving when he stopped speaking.

You had held your breath the entire time, gripping the back of a kitchen stool until your knuckles turned white. Thor was angry, you could feel it even without being near him, but he didn't mean what he had said, not entirely. Thor's emotions were a passing wind on your skin though, for who you really felt, stood just a few feet behind you.

Loki had his back turned to his brother when he spoke, and he didn't turn around after. Even without looking at him, you could feel the way he trembled, unsteady hands closed into tight fists to mask his hurt; he gulped back a sob, and kept on walking to his bedroom without a word.

You could choke with the amount of pain radiating off of Loki; heavy, sickening, all-encompassing pain that you felt so vividly in your skin and bones. You only shot Thor an angry glance and muttered; "Damnit Thor," before turning around hastily. You thought you heard Thor calling after you, but you decided to ignore him, your priorities already set.

You ran after Loki, catching up just before his door slammed shut. Taking a deep breath, you walked into his bedroom and softly closed the door behind you with a click.

You'd never actually been in Loki's room before, so you took a single moment to glance around. The room itself was a little bare, with only the necessities such as a double bed, a dresser, a desk, a small bookshelf, and the door that led to his bathroom. You made a mental note to gift him something to liven up his space; maybe a plant.

Loki had his back turned to you still, both his hands resting on his waist as his head hung low. But you knew he knew it was you there with him, by the simple fact that he was allowing you to stay.

The silence was a heavy one, packed with the electricity of two souls tightly holding onto each other. Loki was trying so hard to keep all his pain in control, his shoulders shaking with each breath he took; but you could feel it as if it was your own.

"Loki," you said his name in nothing but breath, testing the waters. You took half a step toward him as you fidgeted with your hands.

He didn't answer. You weren't expecting him to.

You pursed your lips before saying; "he didn't mean it," your voice was choked and took effort to come out, the back of your eyes already burning, "what Thor said. He- he didn't mean it."

A few beats passed, and then; "doesn't matter if he did." Loki's words cracked in the middle, it was the most broken you'd ever heard him sound. "He's right."

"He's not," you told him in the same heartbeat, not a tint of hesitation in your tone.

Loki turned around, his gaze finally finding yours and there were tears pooling at the bottom lid of his bright eyes. "Yes, he is," he took a single big step toward you, nearly closing the distance between you and him. Loki's lips trembled as he struggled to keep talking; "and why is it that you care? What's in it for you?"

He was hurt, and he was frustrated, and he was angry; you knew that. Still, you couldn't help but be taken aback by his question. What could he even mean by that? Did he really believe that all this time that you'd been dancing around each other's feelings, it wasn't real?

"Loki, I-" you stuttered, not knowing how to say it without baring your heart in the process. Your hesitation got Loki avoiding his eyes from yours, and you forced yourself to go on. "There's nothing 'in it for me' I just... care about you."

Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Loki softly shook his head, scoffing. His tears were a blink away from spilling, he felt as if barbed wire was wrapped around his throat, and his heart threatened to jump from his chest and straight into your hands.

It scared him. How easily you could make his walls crumble like paper in the rain. He flinched slightly when he felt the ghost of your touch on his cheek, blinking multiple times when your thumb brushed away a single tear rolling down his cheek. You touched him as if he were porcelain, and yet it still broke him.

"Is it that hard to believe that you're important to me?" You asked then, voice nothing but a whisper in the short space separating your bodies. With your hand still holding his cheek, you forced his eyes back on yours. "You have a good heart, Loki. I just wish you could see it the way I do. I wish everyone could see it."

The crooked smile he gave you nearly made your own tears fall. "You don't know what you're talking about, you don't know what I've done," he told you quietly, more than anything, he sounded utterly defeated.

"But I do know," your free hand found one of his then, and you tangled your fingers together loosely, "I might not have been with the Avengers when you attacked New York, but I was still in New York. And I still mean it, you could tell me every single bad thing you've ever done and I'd still tell you how good you are, because I see it. Every single day, Loki. I feel you every single day, and I can feel all this-" Your words caught in your throat and you tasted your tears on your lips. "-All this pain that you carry around and you still choose to be good."

Too many emotions swam behind his eyes for you to put a finger in any of them. But tears were running freely down Loki's cheeks now, pooling against your hand resting on his cheek.

"What did you-" he tried, gasping for air as if he was underwater. This was foreign territory. You had a place in his heart no one else could ever have, he realized, and his heart was beating faster than his mind knew what to do with. "You've been prying into my emotions without me knowing?" He sounded more desperate than annoyed.

"I didn't want to," You explained quickly, "I- I never meant to, but for some reason, I can't block you out." Shrugging weakly, you slowly dropped the hand resting on his cheek, missing the way he glanced down in search of your warmth. "I tried. I really tried."

There was a vulnerability in Loki's eyes you'd never seen before. He looked at you as if he'd just realized what love is. You wondered if you mimicked the same gaze—you sure felt it.

Loki shuffled in his stance. His hand, still holding onto yours, tightened its grip. "I'm-" He avoided your eyes, looking somewhere past your shoulder, "I'm sorry you had to feel all that."

You softened at his words, shaking your head and taking another step forward until your sneakers bumped his shoes. "Wasn't your fault," you whispered.

Loki gulped back a sob after you spoke, and that was the last straw for you to let go of his hand and pull his body to yours in an embrace.

He melted into you.

Loki's fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt and he buried his head against your shoulder—you soon felt it becoming damp, yet you only hugged him tighter. With the desperation he was holding you with, you wondered when was the last time someone had held him.

The soft sobs escaping him were muffled against you. And you couldn't help but stroke his back, the tips of your fingers burying into his very soul. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of this alone." You spoke near his ear, feeling the goosebumps that raised on his skin. "You never deserved it," you promised.

You weren't sure how much time passed, you stayed there for as long as Loki needed you to. When he eventually pulled away, he didn't go far, his hands kept holding your body close to him as if he was afraid you'd leave if he let go.

His bright eyes didn't hold a storm anymore, they were more like a calm sea. A soft frown etched itself into his eyebrows, "did you… take away my pain?"

You chuckled quietly, "No, I can't take away people's emotions." You lifted a hand until your fingertips could brush the skin on his forehead, "But I can make them lighter." You traced an invisible line over his eyebrow and until you reached his cheekbone, "Make the weight just a little bit easier to carry."

Loki leaned into your touch, almost closing his eyes. His hands that rested on your back traced your spine and pulled you closer. "Darling, you've been making it easier ever since the first day I met you."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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deanwinchestergf · 1 year ago

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and why would an angel rescue me from hell? good things do happen dean. not in my experience. i'm not here to perch on your shoulder. i was getting too close to the humans in my charge. you. to everything there is a season. you made an exception for me. you're different. for what's worth, i would give anything not to have you do this. i learned my lesson while i was away, dean. i serve heaven, i don't serve men and i certainly don't serve you. but you guys aren't supposed to be there, you're not in this story. yeah, well, we're making it up as we go. i'm hunted, i rebelled and i did it all, all of it, for you. so what i'm thelma and you're louise and we're just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together? i need your help because you're the only one who'll help me. that's a pretty nice timing, cas. we had an appointment. what happened to you cas? you used to be human, or at least like one. but cas, you'll call right? if you get into real trouble? this is cas, guys. he has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many freaking times, don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt at least? it sounds so simple when you say it like that, where were you when i needed to hear it? i was there, where were you? i'm doing this for you, dean. i'm doing this because of you. but we were family once, i would've died for you, i almost did a few times. i've lost lisa, i've lost ben and now i've lost sam. don't make me lose you too. cas, you child, why didn't you listen to me. you used to fight together, bestest of friends, actually. if you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time. the very touch of you corrupts. when castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost. i'd rather have you, cursed or not. well, i'll go with you. i prayed to you cas, every night. cas, we're getting out of here, we're going home. i mean you kept saying you didn't think it would work, did you not trust me? cas, it's me. we need you, i need you. i won't hurt dean. cause you didn't trust me? you didn't trust me. please, man, i need you here. nobody wants him here more than i do. you gave us an order, castiel, and we gave you our trust. don't lose it over one man. you really believe we three will be enough? we always have been. his true weakness is revealed. you draped yourself with the flag of heaven but ultimately, it was all about saving one human. i'm glad you're here, man. how are you, dean? and then you'll kill the angel, castiel. now that one, that i suspect would hurt something awful. and when you turn, everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. everyone except me. i'm not gonna send lucifer into battle inside cas, what if he doesn't make it? it's not an it, sam. it's cas. but you're always there, you know? i could go with you. you mean too much to me, to everything. i'm gonna cure you of your human weakness, same way i cured my own. it's a gift, you keep those. you mean we? yes, dumbass, we. we lost everything and now you're gonna bring him back. we got cas back, that's a pretty damn big win. just don't get dead again. it's good to hear your voice. so this is goodbye? but i swear if he did something to her, if she's- then you're dead to me. either get on board or walk away. i don't know what's god and what isn't, and it's driving me crazy. dean, you asked what about all of this is real. we are. you used trust me, give me the benefit of the doubt, now you can barely look at me. i think it's time for me to move on. you didn't deserve that. since when do we get what we deserve? maybe if you didn't just up and leave us. i left but you didn't stop me. i should've stopped you. you're my best friend but i just let you go. and i forgive you, of course i forgive you. i'm sorry it took me so long, i'm sorry it took me til now to say it. you did it cas. okay, cas, i need to say something. you don't have to say it, i heard your prayer. well, here's to being right. you know what every other version of you did after gripping him tight and raising him from perdition? they did what they were told, but not you.

#destiel #paula.txt

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as-if-and-only-if · 2 months ago

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the thing that I've got to say is that it really is ethically straightforward that you should vote Harris.

it's not even a trolley problem, it's a trolley triviality. I don't want to use the meme because it seems disrespectful to use those specific images of MS paint people when these are real lives we're talking about.

The analogy itself is serious, though. it looks like this:

the track diverges at the lever; many people are on lower track, while no one is on the upper track. then: the tracks re-converge and continue, and there are people on the track after that convergence.

The point is that the lever—the vote—can be used to prevent those lives on the lower track from being lost, but cannot save the lives lost after the re-convergence.

it differs from the classic trolley problem in an extremely important way: there isn't anyone on the upper track. as such, it's not a question of "who do we save?"—it's only a question of "do we save the people we can?"

(I need to emphasize, because many on this site have long shed the shackles of reading comprehension, that this does not mean that no one dies as a consequence of U.S. or presidential policy choices in a vacuum. It means that your vote cannot prevent that, but your vote can prevent strictly more people from dying, with no trolley-problem type tradeoff of "who do we choose to die".)

~~~~~

you might think that this is abstracting away too much of the real situation—but it turns out it's ironclad.

to see that it is, and reconcile it with reality, we have to ask: what is not modeled by this analogy? where might it fail?

this amounts to asking the question: is there a benefit to killing the people on the lower track that makes doing so "worth it"?

that is: what justification might you have for saying "yes, we actually need to let those lives on the lower track, the ones we could save with the lever, be lost"?

and the answer—as you might have guessed—is that there is no such justification. no peculiar fact about voting means that you should let those people die.

~~~~~

so why do some people—very passionately—insist that not voting is right? I'll survey a few of the most common attempted justifications I've seen, such as:

"I'm not going to vote for less genocide." This is obviously equivalent to "I am totally fine with more genocide!", a truly horrific stance, and yet I have seen it nearly verbatim from so-called "leftists" a few times. My guess is that this usually stems from a kind of perceived moral contamination: a feeling that a "vote for" a candidate is a moral alignment. This is artificial; not real; not consequential. A vote only makes you responsible for the difference between the two tracks while they diverge. Touching the lever doesn't make you responsible for the track. Choosing between these two outcomes is all voting can do—and because voting for most is easy, and doesn't stop you from doing anything else, there are no trade-offs. No "I'm not at the lever, because I had to work on another way." (If your vote is suppressed, that's another story—but this doesn't imply a general anti-voting stance.)

Ironically, some who aren't voting feel they are "keeping their hands clean", when they are in fact actively increasing the chance of more death and suffering. This is kind of the definition of getting your hands "dirty"; it just doesn't feel like it because they're not touching a voting machine, which is kind of just magical thinking. it's not a point not made frequently enough, I think: what some think of as "doing the right thing" here is very much doing the wrong thing, with respect to their own underlying values of right and wrong, and with respect to what they say they care about. those who claim to have the moral high ground by not voting do not actually have it at all.

On that note, some people (fewer, though) seem to think that touching the lever does make you responsible for the track in a real outcome-based way. That somehow, voting lends "legitimacy" to the track, and that by not voting, we are maybe creating a future with no people on tracks. This is just not true; a dangerous fantasy that asks you to sit back and wait for a utopia that's not coming. There are enough voters in this upcoming election that that institution is not going anywhere anytime soon; you'd need a coordinated movement of not voting plus plans for what to do after the state has lost legitimacy, and that is just...obviously not here. To think otherwise is to live in that fantasy, and so to abandon ethical thinking at all, as ethics comes first from a confrontation with reality. you cannot act ethically without acting practically. However: the margins are thin enough that a few people deciding to vote (who wouldn't otherwise) could actually change the outcome. You can actually save the people on the lower track.

Some people think that the tracks never separate at all, or that the same people are on each, or that one way or another, Harris and Trump are "the same". If you think this, please look beyond tumblr "leftists" for facts here. You've been bombarded with all and only all the bad stuff about Harris (not arguing with most of that—though there are misconceptions, e.g. that Biden/Harris provided no protections for trans people); but you haven't seen how much worse Trump is on every single one of those cases, issue for issue, including Gaza. If you think Gaza can't get any worse, you've essentially written everyone still alive there off for dead. Likewise for any group who would suffer more under Trump. Needless to say—don't do that. The comparison—the difference between the diverging tracks—is all that ethically matters when deciding whether to flip the lever or leave it alone.

Some people think voting is primarily "speech", a means to communicate (or worse, merely express), and probably do not realize that this means they think the outcome of "sending a message" (which would do nearly nothing in real terms) is worth killing the people on the lower track.

Similarly, some people think that it's meaningful to "punish" Harris or the dems. (Truly, putting punishment over the cost in lives and suffering is the most horribly american thing to do here.) Some people just want the feeling of punishment, of blame; some people try to excuse their actions in advance ("well, if the dems lose, it will be their fault"), conveniently omitting their own agency in voting, and thus excusing them from the practice of acting ethically at all. Some people think that punishing the dems will actually push them left in the future, to which I say: you don't have a good reason to think this at all, based on history. Parties go where the winning is. And if you do still have a hunch to the contrary, I am sure you don't have a good reason to be reasonably certain of it. This means that you are paying for a gamble, a mere chance, one unsupported by fact, with the lives on the lower track. You can find another way.

~~~~~

Let's be concrete for a moment.

Since this is about difference, let me gesture to a few obvious differences between Trump and Harris: LGBTQ+ rights, Gaza, climate change, mass deportation of illegal immigrants, education, voting rights (and, yes, democracy), the economy, housing, the long-term future success of leftist movements and activism (much more difficult under Trump, who, no joke, has said neatly verbatim he wants to use the national guard and military to handle the leftist "enemy from within", and who can now do so thanks to the supreme court's ruling on presidential powers), everything Lina Khan and Deb Haaland are doing, etc.

And before you respond with something bad the dems or Harris are doing with respect to one of these—I know. Now compare it to Trump on the same issue. That is the only thing relevant to acting ethically in this brutal, tightly-constrained situation.

For example: Harris doesn't want to ban fracking or reduce oil consumption (bad), but wants to fund renewables, stay in the Paris agreement, strengthen climate initiatives in general.

Trump wants to completely gut funding for renewable energy, withdraw from the Paris accords, dramatically increase oil consumption, commercialize NOAA, weaken the EPA, and so on.

We don't get neither. A vote for none is a vote for "worse is fine by me". We are handed the terrible task of making one of these work, and any person actually, practically concerned with that would choose to try to make the Harris version work then spend precious resources fighting the overwhelming tide of the Trump version.

Only someone who does not actually care about these issues is okay with letting Trump in.

Unless you are capable only of black-and-white thinking, unless you can write off the lives in the difference and convince yourself this is ethical, you can see that letting Trump in only lets more lives be lost, and does not reduce anyone's suffering. No trolley "problem". No trade-off.

Voting Harris is not moral alignment. It's not unconditional support. It is maybe the most conditional action you can take: there are only two real outcomes. One not only has more people, as in a trolley problem, but also results in the death and suffering that would result otherwise.

~~~~~

So there it is, spelled out in the most painstaking detail I'm willing to give to a tumblr post: a few of the failure modes of reasoning that lead to not voting. Often simplicity is too simple, a meaningful departure from reality, but in this case the opposite is true: the simple argument

There are two possible outcomes: one of them eases no one's suffering and creates a great deal more. Therefore choose the other, instead of allowing the worse one to come to pass.

—stands up ethically in this case to every sublimation of righteous anger into misguided action.

And I am not using "righteous" sarcastically: it is right to denounce the Biden/Harris admin on Gaza, it is right to denounce the dems on not doing enough for climate change, etc. But that is not the question being asked by your vote. Do not give the right answer to the wrong question.

The question is only: Harris or Trump? Which outcome should happen, now, in the real world, when it's one of exactly two, when "neither" really, truly isn't an option?

If you do not vote, what will your answer be to the people on the lower track? I am sorry; I dreamt nobly, of no track, no lashings at all. No, I was not kept from the lever. It did not even compromise my dream to push it. Still, I just couldn't bear to touch it; still, you had to die, to save me this discomfort.

acting ethically does not always feel righteous. it is not always a release valve for righteous anger. it does not always feel like progress; sometimes it is only the prevention of catastrophe. it is still ethical. it is still necessary. vote Harris. vote to save the people you can.

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polarisjisung · 4 months ago

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LOVE ON THE COURT | 20 ... WITH BENEFITS??

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes, y/n has daddy issues for the sake of the plot

NOTES | I have no idea why this update took me so long to post I'm so sorry 😭 I don't like making chapters like this too sad (don't worry there's still gonna be some angsty chapters) but I don't want the written stuff on its own bcs that feels too espresso depresso or wtv the phrase is so this is a bit of a longer chap than usual.. anyways if ever you feel bad for y/n, don't worry you're gonna feel worse

19:21, dinner the night before

Y/n shuffles in her seat.

Jaemin greets her with a smile, and though she offers one back, that sinking feeling in her stomach doesn't seem to settle.

Suddenly now that she finds herself face to face with her once best friend, no menus in hand since they'd already given their orders, no way to avoid conversation for just a couple seconds longer, Y/n finds herself at a loss for words.

What was anyone supposed to say in this situation?

Sure a thank you would be ideal, considering Jaemin had somehow managed the impossible, but the words escaped her. Like they rested at the tip of her tongue but she lacked the drive to speak them.

It's not that y/n wasn't grateful, no, she wouldn't be here if she wasn't, in fact she didn't know what it was, what confused her so deeply that she sat there silently. Her thumbs twiddling against one another, as she stared down at the table in front of her.

There was a nagging whisper in her mind, one that cast shadows over her once clear thoughts, leaving her in that haze of uncertainty that she recognised all too well. Recently it was all she could feel around the captain.

Something about this situation in particular makes her palms sweaty and the hairs stand on her neck, every glance at Jaemin feeling like a shadow of what had once been, a reminder of how it had all been lost.

Even just sitting opposite Jaemin isn't simple.

Not at all.

It's like sitting across from a mirror that once reflected shared laughter and secrets, now distorted by fractures of lost trust and unspoken words. She supposed that was the thing about mirrors and shattering. No matter how hard you tried to glue the pieces back together, it would never quite be the same.

Perhaps that's why y/n is lousy in her attempts, grateful to Jaemin but unbothered to express it. The thought that no matter how desperately she hoped, this couldn't be restored. That there was no point in pouring energy into a friendship that would never be resolved.

"So" it's undoubtedly jaemin who breaks the silence, a soft tone to his voice, not quite as gentle as the other night but still warm "are you feeling better? like really okay?"

For a moment she wonders whether she'll break at the sound of his voice like she always had. Would she go back to that point in life where it was so easy to lie, so easy to say she was okay, so easy to pretend, in front of everyone else but never in front of him.

"I'm fine, honestly." She lies.

There's a shy sheepish smile that creeps across her lips and slightly accents her words

Jaemin hasn't seen much of her positivity be directed his way, and seeing this ignites the little hope in him that they could move on from this, from everything.

"You didn't have to work on it without me you know, it was just as much my project as it was yours and you putting in all the effort isn't fair on you."

"You did most of the preliminary stuff anyways, and I really didn't want to ask you because of the other night" Jaemin finally admits, though not willingly, his words extracted more so by her sharp stare and the cold atmosphere.

"Right..." Her attempts at changing the subject, clearly in vain— he really needed to stop asking about the other night. Y/n wasn't sure how much h longer she could hold back the tears, the looming feeling of inadequacy as a guardian still strong. She should have been more careful.

She knows its her turn to speak, opening her mouth to do so.

But again, y/n struggles.

The words play hide and seek in her mind, leaving her to grasp at empty. The atmosphere grows heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Her mind races, a jumble of what to say, thoughts of how easy conversation once was, how effortless it had been, all such a stark contrast to now.

Jaemin watches, a mix of intrigue and concern in his eyes as she contemplates in front of him, quiet but with an expression that spoke volumes.

The silence between them seems to bite louder than any conversation they once held, each dish in front, a reminder of the bitter aftertaste of a friendship turned cold.

"It's just Minjun and I" she breathes out, voice shaky, and Jaemin realises that those nervous cues in her slumped posture and shaking hands had never changed "It's just been the two of us for a while" she whispered. "That's why I was so scared"

Jaemin's hand hovers uncertainly beneath the table, unsure if the gesture would be welcomed or misunderstood, caught in the delicate balance of care and concern.

Admittedly, Jaemin catches himself slightly intrigued, still confused what could have lead to her practically perfectly family turning into this.

But he knows better than to let his curiosity get the best of him.

He wants to stop her, tell her that whatever it is that causes her brows to knit together and her pretty eyes to gloss over isn't something she needs to force herself to talk about, but he doesn't know how.

For a moment he's kicking himself under the table— how had he ever let go of the person who meant so much to him?

Even now, knowing everything she had done, he couldnt help but question why hadn't he tried to get past it then?

At the sight of her downcast features suddenly everything that he once despised her for seemed so trivial.

Jaemin sees himself, a younger, less mature version that stands on the court, hair matted to his forehead from the rain, a ball long forgotten somewhere behind him, cold, betrayed, and so painfully alone. Those burning tear stained cheeks, the harsh whistles of wind, the bitter feeling of failure still clinging to his skin, he remembers it all.

But every feeling he recalls so well, so vividly, is so easily dismissed when her eyes shine with a painful tint, red from the piercing tears that she holds in them.

"My dad" she cuts him off, gaze now avoidant as he grabbed her cold hands in his, "he walked out on us not long after ...whatever hapenned between you and me. He never came back, didn't answer a single call, not even a text, no form of communication except the papers he sent in the mail so I could become Junnie's legal guardian."

I missed you, she wanted to say. I needed you she'd liked to add.

"That's why it's just the two of us now" she said instead, trying to find more words to stop the tears from flowing, like her words were the only thing that could hold them back.

Back then, Y/n remembers vividly the feeling of wanting to fall, to sink, to drown but still somehow keeping her head above the surface to hold on and stay strong for her younger brother. She wondered if Jaemin had been there, would it have been easier? Would she have let herself fall, would she have someone to give her a hand, to pick her back up again and hold her hand through it all? Would things have ended differently?

"I'm sorry" his words weren't new, they weren't special, they were the same as what everybody else would say but the fact that they came from him, Na Jaemin who now stood by her side with his arms wrapped around her, was enough to dissolve the feeling of emptiness.

08:25 present time

Y/n looks over at Minjun, still deep in slumber, smiling before she steps out of the room.

There's way too many toys sprawled out across the living room floor, a blanket she finds herself folding as she subconsciously begins to clean up. Her eyes land on the kitchen counter, wondering what to make for breakfast. She was never particularly good at cooking, but she'd been learning for her brothers sake.

When she gets to the black jacket resting over the couch, it hits her. She catches sight of her puffy eyes in the mirror, and a hand runs through her hair hurriedly.

"Why the fuck did I tell him all of that" she let's out a frustrated sigh, running her hands across her face, "I'm supposed to hate him" she reminds herself, though her tone isn't convincing in the slightest.

"You don't hate him though" Heeseung's voice comes out muffled, the toothbrush between his lips making it difficult to understand his words.

He had been the one to stay over last night, her friends still taking turns to accompany Minjun and her every night since he'd walked out of the apartment, a gesture that made her heart swell. Although up until now she was pretty certain he was still asleep. Clearly not.

"I can't hate him" she sighs, falling back into the couch "is it bad I want to be friends with him again?" she asks, even though Heeseung had retreated to the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.

Regardless he pokes his head out into the hallway, a sly smirk across his lips "with benefits?"

Y/n rolls her eyes.

He emerges again not long after, smiling from ear to ear "no y/n it's not bad if you want to be friends again" he takes a seat beside her "you can only fight your feelings for so long, let yourself be vulnerable, take the risk and try again" he says, hands resting on both his knees.

"and if you're feeling really risky, you can always—"

"shut up Heeseung" she smiles, lightly pushing against his arm "I guess it is worth a shot though"

"he's right next door anyways so sneaking around won't be hard at all"

"I meant being friends. Just friends." she stands up, walking over to the kitchen "you down for pancakes?"

He nods.

"You know it could be good though, he's hot, you're hot, there's enough tension to make things interesting and it ticks your not ready for a relationship box pretty well too"

Despite the pointed look the captain offers him, Heeseung doesn't let up, and secretly, she wouldn't have it any other way.

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#jaemin #nct x female reader #nct smau #nct dream smau #nct dream social media au #nct dream social au #nct jaemin smau #jaemin smau #jaemin social media au #jaemin fluff #love on the court 🏀

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ginevrapng · 1 year ago

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𝐈'𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃

pairing: fwb!james x reader

word count: 1.5k words

warnings and contents: for my friends with benefits james there is no smut asdfghjkl, hurt, jealousy, FLUFF

you're sitting in the great hall eating breakfast and you spot james across the hall with all the other gryffindors. you're unable to stop your lip quirk upwards as you hear his boisterous laugh, which you guess is due to some joke or prank he's retelling.

your small smile drops as you see lily evans walk up the marauders. you've never had a problem with her, she is a popular gryffindor that is friendly and works well to get top marks but the way she's walking up to the marauders, looking at james determined and with a mission, fills you with slight dread. if you were completely honest you felt she spent more time with james then necessary, especially considering how they've got their own friends and how many times she turned him down in the past.

the hall is already pretty quiet due to everyone already have eaten and a lot of people stop their conversations or lower their voices as they see lily go up to james. everyone in every house knows that's irregular. for the previous years of hogwarts james followed lily everywhere like a lost puppy always asking her out and coming up to her but he had stopped. no one knew why. it was because of you.

because the hall became so silent you heard what evans asked james and you wished the hall was louder, you wished you didn't hear, you wish you were somewhere else, anywhere else, you started to become sick as she asked james if he's free this weekend to go to hogsmeade. "i don't know, i think remus has to study but i know sirius and peter are free too. are all the other girls going?" at that moment it's hard to tell if he's actually oblivious or if he knows exactly what she's asking him but he's choosing not to answer. he has a smile on his face but even from a distance it looks a bit forced to you.

if you were anyone else you would lean to the fact he's being oblivious but you're not anyone, people always underestimate james and you have a feeling james knows exactly what she's actually asking but for some reason he's pretending that he has no clue what she means but you don't know why he'd do that. james is kind and wouldn't want to embarrass someone so publicly but at the same time you're unsure of why he'd be so sure of turning her down but the fact that he is does makes you incredibly happy, you won't tell him that though.

"oh, i don't actually know what the girls are doing. i meant just us two. like on a date?" lily asks him, not wavering at all even with what james has previously said.

james sighs under his breath. "i've got things to do, you should go with someone else."

"what about another weekend?" lily asks, hopeful and you don't blame her for that, anyone would be hopeful asking out someone who in the past asked them out every other day.

"lily, i'm sorry if i'm hurting your feelings but i don't want to go on a date with you," he tells her and you can see that he's trying to be as nice as he can be in a situation like this. no one caught on to the fact that james said that he's only sorry that he's hurt her feelings, he's not sorry for not wanting to date her though, like it's not even an option on my mind, he's not entertaining the thought about going on a date with her, you don't catch on, lily doesn't, the marauders don't, no one does.

everyone is stunned, they thought for sure he'd say yes, he has been pining after her for so long and most people just thought he started playing hard to get, giving her some distance until she recognises how much she misses him but that wasn't true at all. lily never crosses his mind anymore, why would she? he has you. you're all he thinks about. yeah at one point he fancied lily but he loves you.

after a couple beats lily replies with an, "oh, alright then. i guess i'll see you in the common room." this time it's lily that forces a smile. james doesn't respond. she has just been rejected and it's making her feel dejected, not only does james not want to go on a date with her but he doesn't want to hang out with her either. the whole time she thought this was some ploy from james to get her attention but she realised she was wrong. he has no interest in her at all.

as soon as lily's out of earshot and going out of the great hall you hear the loud voices of james' friends. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT PRONGS? DON'T YOU WANT LILY ANYMORE?"

"that was mean james, you didn't have to reject her in front of everyone."

"YOU DON'T WANT EVANS? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. I NEVER THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD COME. CAN I GO FOR HER?"

"i've got to say i'm surprised to prongs, i never thought you'd shut lily down like that. she really does like you and if this is some trick to get her to like you more, don't do it. she talks about you a lot."

james interrupts his friends knowing this could go on all morning and knowing that you're definitely hearing all this, worried you might be getting the wrong idea. "you can go for her pads, it's none of my business." they all look even more shocked as they hear this but he carries on, "i have no interest in lily whatsoever, yes i used to but i moved on from that. i didn't try to be mean peter but she wasn't taking a hint, i kept trying to tell her no and to let her down gently and moony honestly you shouldn't be surprised if anything it's more surprising that this hasn't happened sooner, me and lily have absolutely nothing in common and we can barely hold a conversation together that last more than ten minutes."

they're all rendered speechless at james as they realise he is 100 percent serious about this. no matter if lily chases james just like he chased her his answer will always be the same, no.

in james' eyes lily doesn't hold a candle to you.

he flicks his eye to where you're sitting and you briefly make eye contact. james was feeling in a bit of a negative mood after what happened but that immediately changed when he glances at you to see that you're already looking at him. you see a stupid grin appear on his face, uncontrolled and automatic, you quickly look down knowing that you've been caught watching him. as you're looking down you smile at the whole situation. james told lily no, and he said it so certain like nothing could change his mind. that absolutely stopped the sicky feeling you had. no one would notice you smiling as you're looking away from everyone but james knew that's what you'd be doing.

james wants to grab your face and lift it up so you're looking at each other again, he already misses your face and the colours of your eyes and it's only been a second since you've looked away from him. he wants to see your bashful smile as you try to look away from him again but he'll just place hundreds of kisses all over your face instead. he wants to desperately tell you that lily doesn't mean anything to him, you have gotten jealous on occasion due to lily even if you deny it, hopefully this might help. he wants to tell you that there's nothing to be jealous about. although you both know that he'll likely tease you about how you was "staring" at him the whole time when he turned down lily.

"what the fuck are you grinning about james?" remus asks, he seems the most annoyed with james about how he handled the situation, remus and lily are study buddies so they are actually good friends and he's known for awhile how lily has felt about james he's just always thought james still feels the same way, he thought it was mutual.

james snaps out off his thoughts of you, not wanting the marauders to question him about you. "nothing important," james replies, not looking back at you.

he hopes that he'll have the chance to talk to you today, even if it's for five minutes. maybe you'll talk about your plans for the weekend and you can try and find time to get together, maybe you'll tease him and say lily invited you to hogsmeade while you were at dinner.

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lost-and-ephemeral · 11 months ago

Note

What would the LaD boys do if the reader was sick?

Imagine: Get Well Soon (ft. main trio)

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: fluff, comfort, you are sick

A/N: as a person with really weak immune system i wish someone would take care of me too

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Zayne

"I'm prescribing bed rest for you for the next few days. No objections."

No matter how hard Zayne is trying to hide his concern for you behind a mask of indifference, you could still tell how he feels from his tone.

Either way, you're in the best possible hands.

Considering his job, he can't just leave everything and rush to you. He's got surgeries scheduled. But you can be sure he'll spend all his free time with you until you get better. And if you ask, he can lie down next to you.

He'll take care of cooking and will make sure you take your medicine on time. He may be a little strict with you, but that is only because Zayne really cares about you. You need cold compresses? Give him a minute. You're thirsty because of the fever? He's already brought you a glass of warm water. Hugs? Well, why not, since love is the best medicine.

Zayne is calm and collected, he knows exactly what needs to be done. So all you have to do is lie down and get well while he takes care of you and covers all your needs.

"Sleep. Your body needs to rest so it can recover faster. I'll be here."

Xavier

"It may not have turned out very tasty, but I really tried."

Poor Xavier, being very caring and sweet, is simply incompatible with cooking. Even when it comes to chicken soup. But he'll try for you this time.

Although you ended up agreeing on the fact that he'd just order delivery, rather than accidentally setting your kitchen on fire while trying to cook something else.

He'll try to take a couple days off to stay with you until you get better. Just so he doesn't have to worry about your health getting worse while he's on a mission.

He will make sure you have everything you need, especially a warm blanket. And if that blanket isn't enough, he can always keep you warm with his embrace. No, Xavier is not afraid of getting sick himself, he is confident in his immune system.

Most likely to fall asleep along with you at some point, cuddling you and resting his head on your chest. You will benefit from sleep, and he just needs it to recharge his energy. So it's a win-win.

"Just let me know if you need anything. Don't even hesitate to ask me."

Rafayel

"Don't worry, I won't let this teeny-weeny sickness stop us from spending time together. You'll get better soon under my care."

Rafayel sounds really confident, but he's actually worried. He just knows how to hide it well behind a thick layer of false self-confidence.

And he will never admit that he felt like a lost child for a minute.

Rafayel won't want to leave your side for a single minute and will make the coziest nest in the bed for you. Of course, someone has to go and buy some meds, because it's impossible to find any in the chaos of his studio, so that falls to Thomas.

Poor Thomas.

Luckily, he can cook quite well on his own, so you won't have any trouble with that. In any case, he can always order a delivery too.

Will spend as much time with you as you need and bring you whatever you want. Paintings can wait, he'll always be able to finish them on time. Besides, maybe he'll find inspiration from being with you.

Not afraid to get sick either, so he'll cuddle you 24/7, telling you that comes into his mind until you feel like sleeping.

"See? Told you I can take great care of you."

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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wondersinwaynemanor · 1 year ago

Text

Does Tim forget he's officially a Wayne now? That, or his mind is too full with many ideas and he's easily distracted from one thought to the next. I think it's all of the above.

During a board meeting at Wayne Enterprises, employees try to get his attention cus sleep-deprived Tim is analyzing stock markets and investments, and planning on what he should to Mr. Freeze tonight because that bastard almost blasted Damian with his freeze gun, and he's wondering what country he could explore with Kon on the weekend.

When Jason asked, "How do you handle everything, Timmy??" Tim answered, "It's quite easy." Dick worries for his younger brother's mental health. Bruce constantly checks in on Tim on how's he doing with his different responsibilities and if he needs to step down as CEO for now and let Lucius handle it for him. But Tim is full of determination and intelligence- Bruce admires that about his son. Those traits are very present in his family.

Employee 1 - Mr. Wayne, what do you think of this project? Do you think it can benefit us?

Tim - ..... (on his mind - "I'm gonna rip that suit from Mr. Freeze till he apologizes for what he did to Damian. I'm gonna kill-").

Lucius - Mr. Wayne. (he doesn't usually call Tim this way but they're in a professional setting right now so it's a given).

Tim is fnally out of the trance from his own mind - Yes, Mr. Fox. Sorry, my apologies. That project is amazing... (and he continues to speak about the project like he didn't just get lost there).

And the board of members continue to be impressed by young Timothy Wayne.

#tim drake #red robin #dc incorrect quotes #pls give this boy a break???#dc universe #batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #lucius fox #protective tim drake #a bit of timkon here #batfam #batbros

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illiterateaffairs · 12 days ago

Text

anything can happen | stiles x reader the holiday au

pairing: stiles stilinski x female!reader

word count: 13,365

warnings: language, smooching, parenental death mentioned, the reader being british but just for the sake of the plot,

summary: inspired by the nancy meyers film "the holiday", you swap homes with someone in beacon hills for the christmas season where you get to know your neighbor the sheriff, and his very cute son.

author's note: happy new year my friends!! this is my little gift for everyone, an idea i've wanted to do in some way for so many years based on the what i think is the best holiday film ever made. as mentioned, the reader is british for the plot because iykyk. this is also a "companion" fic with a jamie x reader story i'm working on thats the reverse. so you don't have to read that if you're just more of a stiles fan BUT it is meant to overlap slightly like the movie. so the reader may or may not know the richmond greyhounds ;) PLS LIKE REBLOG AND COMMENT YOUR THOUGHTS <3

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ low point ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

You weren’t one for spontaneity or going outside your comfort zone.

No. You stuck to what you knew.

The same town. The same job. The same wardrobe.

The same guy.

That one was your biggest problem. Despite nearly a decade of back and forth with the boy you’ve loved since high school, and the fact he cheated on you not once, but twice, you couldn’t shake him.

Hell, you even stayed friends with him for some reason you chalked up to nostalgia and for old time’s sake.

All that did was just lead you into a false sense of security and worse…hope.

Hope that was once again dashed merely a week before Christmas when you found out he was engaged - to the second girl he cheated on you with less than two years ago.

You were letting yourself wallow in self pity for the weekend when you got a message on the home exchange website you put your modern Richmond townhome up on after a tipsy dare from your friend (sometimes with benefits when you were at your lowest). It was a woman inquiring if your home would be available for the next 2 weeks over the holidays.

You glanced around. Your job in journalism allowed you to work from anywhere. You were on your own since you lost your father in college. You definitely had no romantic prospects keeping you here. So, what the hell?

After taking one large sip of Vino, you were agreeing to the exchange without even comprehending where you would be going.

Lucky for you, when you came to, you were delighted at the prospect of spending the holidays in California, USA. And also terrified at being on your own in a foreign country for the first time in your lonely, sheltered, horrible life. Well…when in Rome, or…Beacon Hills?

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ not the leading lady ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Less than two days later, given the nearly 12 hour flight to San Francisco, you were arriving in California dressed far too warm for December on the American West Coast. Donned in your wool coat and scarf, the Uber driver chuckled at you as you slid in the the back of his car, but you didn’t take it offensively. She even went ahead and lowered the windows for you so you could take in the California air and sights as she drove you out of the city into the quaint and admittedly mysterious town of Beacon Hills.

Upon your research the night before leaving, Beacon Hills wasn’t known for being the safest town in California. A few years back there were an abundance of articles detailing several animal attacks and other…unexplained deaths. Every journalistic bone in her body shivered at the stories that just didn’t add up. But misfortune seemed to thin out in recent years, so you managed to not talk yourself out of the trip in fear.

What had made you hesitate was when you told every necessary person about your departure. Given the last minute nature of your holiday trip, you left a handful of messages on your friends voicemails letting them know to not expect you at holiday parties or secret santa or Christmas dinner. However you did have to talk to your boss and get explicit permission to work remotely over the next few weeks. And then, despite every bone in your body telling you not to, you called him. Joel. The boy you couldn’t get over now matter how hard you tried.

When he answered you managed to give him a forced congratulations on his engagement, which he accepted without missing a beat like it was normal for her to be happy for him despite everything he has put her through over the years. And then he suggested they get together soon, which gave her exactly the opportunity she was looking for, letting him know she wouldn’t be around for the holidays. That was the first time he faltered in their conversation, surprised by the out of character move.

You’ve never left this town let alone the country. Even when I suggested a weekend trip to Scotland you refused.

You rolled her eyes when he threw that in your face. Not only was he referencing their past romantic relationship, which he always seemed to do as if it was no big deal. That very weekend you refused to go away with him back in University was the first time he cheated on you. Which you thought about plenty on your own without a reminder, thank you very much.

You hung up not too long after that. And the next thing you knew you were on a flight across the world. And if you took a Xanax to get on the plane, well that was nobody’s business.

Now here you were, on winding back roads through thick green forests before arriving in front of a quaint, cabin-like cottage in a small neighborhood. You smiled to yourself. It was quieter out here than the bustling football town of Richmond. And not too far from the city if you wanted to experience more touristy things.

You knew there was still a big chance of you having a mental breakdown if you got too lonely and overwhelmed out here, but at least it was peaceful and safe. After exiting the Uber and collecting your things, you immediately clocked the police car that seemed to belong to the town’s sheriff next door and that gave you a shred of reassurance in your latter assumption.

You take in the inside of the house. It was just as cozy as it looked from the outside. Wood paneling. An actual fireplace. Warm quilts lining every piece of furniture. The woman you exchanged with told you it was formally her aunt’s home that she inherited and had moved into recently, and you admittedly loved the old fashioned tastes. It felt like being in the home of one of your own long since passed relatives. And honestly, that was exactly what you needed right now.

You find your way to the master bedroom and make yourself at home, unpacking and storing what you can in the empty drawers, before taking stock of the kitchen. Keys to the cream colored volkswagen bug in the driveway were on display on the breakfast bar, along with a handwritten note explaining the locks, security system, and the wifi. Overly awake from your xanax-induced snooze on the plane ride, you decide to take a small adventure. (Once you figure out how to drive on the other side of the road).

With google maps as your co-pilot, you take the bug, apparently named Betty, into town to raid the supermarket and craft store. You needed something aside from binge watching television to keep you busy all on your own the next couple weeks. You buy ingredients for baking as well as supplies for painting - two of your favorite past times.

But of course, also shopping on an empty stomach leads to less than strategic choices and you wind up with way more groceries than you would certainly need the next couple weeks.

You’re doing your best to unload said grocery bags from the trunk and backseat of Betty when you hear a hoarse voice coming from the mailbox next door.

“Looks like someone’s having a party.”

You turn, too many bags around your wrists, and see a man, probably about 60 years old, regarding you in amusement while going through his mail.

You chuckle in spite of yourself, “Oh, yeah I’m planning a real rager featuring mostly various flavors of Pringles.”

His lips quirk up when he picks up on the slight accent, “Guessing you don’t have those wherever you’re from?”

“Not in so many options.”

He takes a few steps closer, “Would you like any help?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” But he’s already at the trunk reaching for some bags.

“It’s no problem I don’t have any plans,” he assures as he follows her up the driveway. “You’re not one of Diane’s nieces too, are you?”

You shake your head, assuming that was the name of said Aunt who used to inhabit this place. “Nah, I’m actually sort of renting it for the holidays.”

He nods, though you suspect he’s probably confused about the arrangement, but he doesn’t press, “I figured with the accent.”

You guide him to set down the bags on the countertop before you both grab the remaining bags and lock up the car.

“Thank you again. Definitely cut that time in half,” You smile at him as you start unpacking the bags in the kitchen, and even though you want to protest the extra help, he begins unbagging as well.

“No problem at all. I live right next door, so anything you need in the next couple of weeks let me know. A lot of people in this neighborhood keep to themselves but don’t be afraid to holler my way.”

You nod with a smile, sticking your hand out to formally introduce yourself.

He smiles back as he shakes your hand, “Noah Stilinski.”

“I assume you’re the sheriff?”

He nods with a huff, “That would be me. But if my son had anything to say about it, I’d be retiring as soon as yesterday.”

You quirk your lips up as you start to put some items in the fridge. “Oh yeah, you seem like you’ve still got a few good years left in you.”

He snorts, and you’re glad he took it as a friendly joke. “That’s what I tell him. He’s become a bit less persistent this last year since I agreed to downsize our house and move next door, but he still makes comments about taking a step back at the station.”

“What does your son do?”

“He’s a detective, working towards joining the FBI.”

You can’t help but laugh, “So, sounds like he has no room to talk.”

“Yeah but then he brings up my age and my health and the stress of it all,” he sighs, shaking his head, “In a way he’s probably right, but I’m not quite ready to give it up yet.”

“I think that's fair,” you smile softly, “Everyone should be in charge of their own destiny. Your son should leave you alone.”

Noah chuckles, “I’m gonna tell him you said that. Do you give your parents a hard time?”

Your smile falters as you focus on the last remaining grocery items. “Not really. Uh, it was just me and my dad most of my life until he passed away a couple years ago.”

He lets out a long breath, “I’m sorry, kid…must be hard during the holidays.”

You shrug, “One of the reasons why I came here.”

“I get it. I lost my wife…well I guess it's been over 15 years now but every Christmas it's still hard. And now with Stiles in DC it's hard to say when he gets time off to visit. Spending it alone makes it worse.”

You nod, “Yeah, every place you go and every TV channel loves to make it their mission to remind you of families and friends that actually get to be together.”

He chuckles dryly, “Right. Well, I don’t want to impose on you too much longer as you get settled in. But like I said, I’m just right next door if you ever need anything.”

I nod and give him an appreciative smile, “Thank you, Noah.”

He gives you a nod and smile of his own before he ducks out of the kitchen and sees himself out the front.

You take him up on his offer to pop next door almost immediately - though you weren’t going over for help, not consciously at least.

After organizing the rest of your groceries and putting away your art supplies, you make a quick and easy dinner before focusing on baking the rest of the evening. You start with brownies before making both chocolate chip and snickerdoodle cookies. After taste testing all three, you decide they’re all too delicious to choose from and package half of each batch on a platter under plastic wrap to bring over to the sheriff.

You knew he hadn’t meant to upset you by asking about your parents - it was a common thing to happen to you. But it was weirdly comforting connecting with him on his late wife. It was nice to know you had someone close throughout the holiday season you had anticipated spending completely alone, especially one that seemed to understand you to some degree.

So you thought he might appreciate some baked goods - even if his son wouldn’t love the idea of you bringing him sweets. But he wasn’t here so he can suck it.

After knocking on his door, it was opening less than sixty seconds later and Noah greeted you with a surprised smile.

“Hi,” you say softly, holding out the platter, “I baked you a few things. Cookies, brownies.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, but he grins and is already taking the platter out of your hands.

You shrug, “I was baking anyway. I enjoy doing it, but I definitely don’t need 3 dozen of them to myself.”

He studies the tray for a second before looking back up at you, “Do you want to come in and have some with me?”

Your eyes widen a fraction of a centimeter and you start to shake your head, “You don’t have to-”

“No, I insist,” he side steps into the foyer to make room for you, “I have plenty of milk, and if my son asks, its skim. Definitely not whole milk.”

You laugh softly and despite your earlier protest, you find yourself walking in.

“Are some of these snickerdoodles?” he asks as he leads you through the house, into his kitchen. At your confirmation, “They’re my son’s favorite.”

From there, he grabs two small plates from the cupboard and selects one of each sweet for each of you, and pours you each a full glass of milk.

“You’re not vegan or lactose intolerant are you?” he asks after pouring.

You shake your head, already accepting the glass, “Nope. And thank God. I couldn’t live without ice cream.”

He chuckles in approval.

From there, the two of you spend the next hour or so chatting about random things. He tells you about the life of being a Beacon Hills Sheriff, and you do your best not to pry about the animal attacks from several years back. Instead, you tell him that you’ve been working in journalism for a paper in London but that one day you hope to write fiction. You also share stories about your father, and he of his wife and son.

After laughing fondly over a childhood Christmas with your father where he totally meant well but bought you a terrifying off brand Barbie doll, Noah studies you curiously.

“So, you said your family situation was one of the reasons you decided to spend your holidays abroad and alone but…was there another?” he inquired.

You should have known the sheriff in the room would figure you out.

“Uh, yeah,” your finger absentmindedly traces the rim of your now empty glass of milk, “Not to sound super cliche and sad, but it may have also been because of a boy.”

And after that, for some unexplained reason, you confide in this man that could have very well been the same age as your dad at this point over your failed love life. And yes, you divulge both cheating incidents and the fact that you still kept contact with him.

Noah scoffs as you recount the way he reacted to your spur of the moment vacation plans, “And he still had the nerve to comment on your life choices after getting engaged to the other woman?”

“Yup.”

“What a schmuck.”

Your laughter surprises yourself, having rarely found humor in recounting your situation, “Oh yeah. He’s a total schmuck.”

He nods, “Don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely the one at fault and if he ever dared to step foot on American soil I’d have a warrant out for his arrest in an instant. But what I don’t understand is why you still give him even a shred of your time and energy.”

You sigh. That was the age-old question.

Even you didn’t know how to answer that most of the time. But as you sat here and really thought about it, it was more than just an ounce of hope that maybe one day he’d change his mind.

“I guess…he’s just comfortable. Familiar. You know…we grew up together and he was my first love…even if he was also my first heartbreak, I know him. My dad knew him. And even when he does things like cheat on me or get engaged, part of me still feels like one day we’ll get our happy ending because that's what's supposed to happen. I was supposed to be a journalist like my mom was and I’m supposed to stay in the town they met and with the boy I’ve always loved. I know it probably doesn’t make sense but-”

Noah shrugs, “I mean it sounds like the plot of a romantic comedy.”

That catches you off guard. “Um…yeah…”

Noah snorts at your confusion, “I’ve been watching a lot of movies since my son left for college, and that was six or seven years ago so I had to start watching something that wasn’t war or action movies. Admittedly most rom-coms aren’t that bad.”

You smile, “No, yeah, they’re pretty good.”

“Amazing even. I mean, When Harry Met Sally?”

“Oh, perfection.”

“And don’t get me started on 13 Going on 30.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Anyway, the vision you're describing is like some fairytale ending from one of those movies.”

“Yeah,” you nod, sinking back into your chair with your arms crossed.

“And you deserve that ending.”

“Oh, thank you-”

“But you’re acting more like the friend that always settles for the bad guy,”

“Oh-”

“Like Kathryn Hahn in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.”

“Jesus, you really do know your rom-coms.”

“Nobody roots for the leading lady to get with the guy that's always treating her like shit.”

“Thats…fair,” you chew your lip, “But what if I’ve never been the leading lady. I never make bold and interesting main character-esque choices.”

“Well…” he smiles warmly. “You came here didn’t you?”

You squeeze the arms on your chest tighter, “Yeah…”

“Sounds like a leading lady's decision to me.”

You find yourself starting to smile again.

“Like Meg Ryan or Kate Hudson.”

“Okay well now I’m dying to know just how many rom-coms you’ve seen.”

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ don't blow away ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

After readjusting your sleeping schedule and making a conscious choice to stop thinking about Joel and his engagement for the remainder of your trip, you feel a lot lighter and a lot more confident in your decision to get away for the holidays.

You spend your mornings and afternoons cooking or baking, as well as painting while you get yourself invested in a handful of miniseries you’ve been meaning to binge over the years that you never got around to. And pending his schedule at the station, you find yourself cooking lunch or dinner for Sheriff Stilinski. You indulge him in meals he told you he’s liked, all the well attempting to turn down your offer to do so, but you also make conscious choices to sub in low-cal ingredients when you can, knowing his son probably wouldn’t appreciate you over-feeding his father, even if he wouldn’t be here to witness it.

When you’re there for dinner, Noah has even convinced you to hang out for a movie. Always a rom-com. The first time, you suggest a modern movie he hadn’t seen yet (Set It Up), and the second night, he shockingly suggests one you’d never seen (While You Were Sleeping). Apparently he was obsessed with Sandra Bullock, and he was right to be. The movie, also starring a young and gorgeous Bill Pullman was in fact a banger. His words.

After getting to know each other that first night over dessert, he had given you his phone number for ease of communication during your stay. And by the second rom-com movie night, he’d given you his extra house key for emergencies. You knew he was being nice and fatherly - you could always sense sympathy for your situation even when he did his best to hide it, which you appreciated. But you also suspected he liked the company and the caretaking you offered, even if he wouldn’t admit it. No one liked to be alone during the holidays, no matter how often they said they were okay with it.

Having noticed the clutter in his study the previous night, you decide to let yourself in the following afternoon while he’s at the station. Maybe it was an invasion of privacy, but you hoped he’d take it as a gesture that you wanted to help out and tidy up the place. You knew how hard it was to take care of simple things like straightening up around the house when you were dealing with lonely holidays or seasonal depression. And to be frank, you liked taking care of someone. So that’s why after straightening up the study, you also organized the medicine cabinet in the bathroom as well as refrigerator. And while you were in the kitchen, you figured you could meal prep some lunches to take to the office.

Even though it was California, it was still soup season in your heart so you decided to make a batch of baked potato soup - minus bacon, you’re welcome Stiles - and put on music to make the time go by.

That must be why you didn’t hear the sound of the front door open. Or the call of an unfamiliar voice looking for his father.

It wasn’t until the owner of the voice was almost right behind you, scaring the living daylights out of you.

“Who the hell are you?”

You jump, the ladle in your hand flying up causing hot soup to splash on your skin, “Ah, shit!”

As you quickly wipe the warm liquid off your skin with a towel, you glance over and recognize the brown-eyed brunette man from the pictures around the house as Noah’s son.

“Oh, my God, you scared me.”

“Uh, yeah. You scared me, too. Who are you and where is my dad?” he asks, looking you up and down suspiciously, but also mildly concerned for the potential of third degree burns on your skin.

“Oh, sorry.” You laugh softly, putting the towel down on the counter and going back to stirring the soup intermittently. “Your dad probably didn’t tell you about me - but to be fair he didn’t tell me you’d be here so...”

“Um,” Stiles frowns, putting his hands on his hips, “Should my dad have told me about you?”

You laugh softly to yourself, “I mean we’ve only been spending time together a few days so not-”

“Aren’t you a little young to be dating my dad?”

You nearly choke on your own breath at the accusation, “I’m sorry? What gave you the impression I’m dating your dad?”

Stiles sputters, his face flushing a bit. “I mean, I didn’t- you..but he-” Stiles shakes his head and points a finger at you, “Hey, I’m not the one under interrogation here. You’re still the one trespassing in my house!”

You laugh in disbelief at the entire situation, rubbing your face, “Okay, now Mr. Prospective FBI Agent is interrogating me.”

Stiles narrows his eyes, “Okay, who are you?”

“I’m your neighbor,” You let out a deep breath, telling him your name finally, “At least for the next week or so. I’m staying next door for the holidays.”

“Oh,” Stiles juts his bottom lip out, taking in the information while staring at seemingly nothing.

“And because I’m alone and he was alone for the time being, we’ve just been keeping each other company. And I’ve been trying to help him out with stuff around the house while he’s working. You know, home cooked meals are always nice this time of year.”

“Oh,” Stiles voice and expression softens this time, as he looks back at you stirring the soup.

You glance over at him, taking him in completely for the first time since he walked into the kitchen. He was just in sweats and a hoodie, but it looked…exceptionally good on him.

“Well, I’m sorry for getting so…defensive. Seeing a stranger making soup in your kitchen is sort of alarming, especially with all the shit that's happened in this town.”

He says that last part off hand, as if not thinking about it. You just raise an eyebrow, a part of you secretly curious if it has to do with the past mysterious attacks and disappearances.

Stiles must realize what he said and that it sounded ominous, so he plastered an awkward smile on his face, “I just mean…my dads the sheriff, and now I’m a detective in DC so…always on edge about something, you know?”

You nod, accepting his answer. “Well, I’m sorry for scaring you, truly. Like I said, I knew your dad wouldn’t be home for another couple hours and he had said you likely weren’t making it for the holidays this year.”

Stiles' lips quirk up, “Yeah, I managed to get the time off and I wanted to surprise him.”

You find yourself smiling at him, too. “I’m sure he’ll be very excited.”

Stiles' grin grows for reasons unbeknownst to him, so he quickly finds a reason to keep talking. “So, uh…soup?”

“Oh, uh, yeah! Wanted something easy your dad could bring to work for a few days.”

“What kind?”

“Baked potato.”

“A nice choice.”

“Yeah,” you shrug one shoulder, “I’ve recently been favoring lasagna soup since it's everywhere on TikTok, but I thought that might be a little too intense. Not that baked potato is any healthier, but I’m forgoing the bacon and I figured if I tried to force feed your dad chicken noodle he’d put me behind bars.”

Stiles snorts, finding himself smiling again at your understanding of his dad and that he must have spoken about his concerns for him…as well as your thoughtfulness. “Yeah, well, thanks for that. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

You smile and hold his gaze too long again. But instead of pulling yourself out of it, a hot splattering of potato soup catches you off guard, with one drop landing right in your eye. “Shit.” You curse under your breath, rubbing your eye.

“Jesus,” Stiles mutters, heading for the paper towels, “Let the record show that time it wasn’t my fault.”

You chuckle despite the irritation in your eye, “No, it was mine. Probably had the burner on too high.” You reach out to turn it off, “It’s probably done anyhow at this point.”

Just as you turn to find something to wipe your eye, Stiles is turning away from the sink with a damp paper towel and stepping closer to you.

“Here let me see,” he whispers. You obey instantly, moving your hand away so he can see your eye and gently dab the paper towel against it, “Yeah, a little red but you should be fine.”

You watch him study you intently, and carefully wipe at your face. As soon as his eyes drift from your eyes to your lips he clears his throat and steps back, placing the paper towel in your hand, “Or, uh, I guess you could do that.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his awkwardness. Despite knowing him for all of five minutes, he feels familiar and very in character to what his dad had told you about him. “Thanks.” You say softly, dabbing your own eye. “Well, I just wanted to prep this for your dad. I can get it into some tupperware and be on my way. I’m sure you just want to rest and wait for your dad to get here.”

“You’re not gonna eat any of it?” he asks without thinking as you find two tall tupperware cups to fill up.

You shake your head, starting to ladle the soup into one. “Nah, I already ate lunch.” You glance up at him as he watches the soup pour into the plastic tub. “But if you want some…?”

Stiles shakes his head quickly, “No, you made that for my dad, I wouldn’t want to-”

“Psh, it's fine. I can always make more if it's such a hit. And it's your house, help yourself.”

You can tell Stiles thinks about protesting for about three seconds, before he gives in and goes for a bowl from the cupboards. You laugh softly to yourself as he pours himself a portion and then you proceed to put the rest away in the fridge for whoever wants it later.

“You don’t have to go, you know.” Stiles murmurs, his mouth already full as he takes a seat at the kitchen table, before you even have a chance to announce your departure.

You also briefly think about protesting, but you can’t deny the part of you that wants to stay. And not because you think he’s cute. No, that would be inappropriate. But it would be nice to talk to someone your own age.

You help yourself to a glass of water and join Stiles at the table who is already done with half of his soup.

“So, you said you live next door?”

“Sort of,” you decide he’d understand the situation better than his father, “About a year ago I drunkenly listed my home in London on this home exchange website. Where you and whoever in the world trade houses, cars, et cetera for however long…”

Stiles nods, “I’ve heard of that.”

“And a few nights ago, I got my first ever request. So I’m here for about two weeks while your dad’s actual neighbor is in Richmond.”

“Why would anyone want to do that alone this time of year?” He murmurs.

“Well, I think she made an impulsive decision to get out of the country. She seemed very impatient over our messages.”

“And what about you?”

You study him. He seemed genuinely interested. But you also made that promise not to bring up Joel- he who shall not be named.

So instead, you shrug, and lean back in your chair. “I don’t really have any family. And a holiday get away sounded new and intriguing. So I thought, why not?”

Stiles instantly understands and gives you a sympathetic but not at all pitying smile. “I’m sorry. About your family.”

You nod, “Thank you.”

“I don’t know if my dad mentioned but-”

You nod again with your own comforting smile, “I know. I get it.”

Stiles nods too. It feels good to be understood.

Knowing neither of you want to linger in these feelings though, you change the subject with a deep breath.

“So your dad mentioned you have a girlfriend.” A pretty one too, from the pictures you’ve seen of him and the redhead on the mantle, “Did she travel here with you?”

Stiles sits up straighter and smiles softly, “Lydia. Yeah. Well, no. She actually lives in Massachusetts. She went to MIT so we’ve been long distance since college. But she grew up here, too, she just couldn’t get away from her job long enough for the trip this year.”

You hum, “High school sweethearts?”

Stiles snorts, scraping the last remnants of soup before giving it up and bringing it to his lips to sip. “Yeah, is that dumb?”

You shake your head quickly, “No not all. That’s…romantic. I’m sure a lot of people long for a relationship that clicks so early. You’re lucky.”

Stiles licks his lips and stares at his now empty bowl. “Yeah. That’s us.”

After a few beats of silence, you glance between him and the bowl. “Do you want me to take that for you?”

Stiles looks up at you quickly, before shuffling to his feet, “Uh, no! No, you've done enough. I mean- sorry, that sounded dismissive. I just meant-”

You cut him off with your laugh, “I know what you meant Stiles.” You follow his lead and stand. “I think I’m gonna head back next door.”

“You don’t have-”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. You should rest from your trip and have some time with your dad when he gets home.”

“I don’t mind that you’re here,” he states earnestly. “I know he wouldn’t mind either.”

You give him a warm smile, “I know. I’m sure I’ll find my way back over soon.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” He says before overthinking how that could be taken again, “I just meant, it's always been just me and my dad for the holidays. That is, when I make it home. It's nice having more company.”

You nod, “I agree. I’ll see you soon, Stiles.”

You turn before he can sense the eagerness you feel to do so.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ square peg round hole ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

You do see Stiles, quite often in fact. Over the next few days leading up to Christmas, you continue visiting the Stilinski household, making meals and watching movies. But when you do, Stiles offers what he can do to help in the kitchen, which is more often than not cleaning up after you're done with certain items. But you do manage to teach him a few things.

The first movie night, you and your dad double team him and convince him to watch Miss Congeniality with them. Apparently something Noah’s been trying to get him to watch the last few years. A comment which he makes, after murmuring something about Stiles giving in so quickly this time to which Stiles protests without making eye contact with either of you. You try not to read into it.

When his dad’s busy being sheriff, Stiles also pops over and hangs out with you. Even if you’re just working on a writing assignment he keeps you company. He also assists you in baking when you tell him you want to bring some goods to the local shelter. After trying some of your both equally tasty and adorable gingerbread cookies, he insists on helping you make another batch to bring to his friend Scott’s house.

You off hand make a comment about dying to meet his friend Scott, after his dad’s repeated stories that co-star the two of them. And Stiles finds it pertinent that you know that Scott has a girlfriend. Which is great for him, but you’re not sure why Stiles needed you to be aware of it. Again, you try not to read into it.

Maybe it's not exactly the perfect, rom-com scenario since Stiles lived a world away and had a girlfriend himself, but you enjoyed spending time with him and the way he made you feel while you did. It was just a hopeful reminder you had the ability to feel this way about someone other than you-know-who.

Which speaking of.

It was as if Joel had a censor for when you were spending time with another guy. For the past few days, he’d been texting you or calling you throughout the day. The calls you did your best to ignore, and you placated his texts that were “just checking in” or “this meme reminded me of you” with half hearted responses. You were too nice to cut him off cold turkey, but every day you had half a mind to block his number.

You can tell Stiles wants to ask who you’re ignoring when you hit the decline call button for the third time in his vicinity, but he respects your privacy. Even though every time your phone lights up, you can tell he’s dying to say something.

With all the time you’ve been spending with the Stilinskis, they invite you to spend Christmas day with them. And at that point you didn’t even bother to protest. You’re looking forward to eating Christmas ham with them (which Noah had to fight for) and end the night watching Love Actually. And the two of them assure you they’ll have enough father-son time on Christmas Eve.

Which gives you the perfect time to do the lastest-last minute Christmas shopping for them on that very Eve.

You’re at the Beacon Hills mall and by the grace of God, you find a white cable knit sweater in a department store reminiscent of Billy Crystal’s in When Harry Met Sally you Noah would love and laugh over.

You found it harder to shop for Stiles. You think it's just because you’ve known him for a few days less, but really you felt more pressured to impress him. You couldn’t imagine why.

Speak of the devil.

Just as you were hopelessly pursuing a rack of flannels you’re sure he already had, the man himself was calling you.

“Hey-”

“Oh, my God you have to help me.”

Your heart rate picks up at his panicked tone, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay? Is your dad-?”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes. He’s fine, I promise. He just got called into work.”

“Oh.” You let out a relieved breath but still frown, “On Christmas Eve? That sucks.”

“I know. Especially for me.”

“And why is that?”

“Well, being the amazing son I am, I told him I’d have dinner ready for him when he got home.”

“That’s nice.”

“But I have no idea what to make him.”

“Ah.”

“That’s where you come in.”

“I figured.”

“I thought I could literally just make pasta, but believe it or not we’re out. And now I’m at the grocery store and everything is like sold out.”

“Well you are shopping on Christmas Eve.”

“I didn’t see your car next door. What are you doing?”

“...Shopping.”

“Nice.”

“Would you be up for taking a trip to the city? I’m sure they’ve got at least one supermarket that hasn’t been picked over. I can meet you there and help you throw something together.”

“Really? I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

“As previously mentioned, I’m already out. It's not a problem.”

“Okay…if you’re sure.”

“I am one hundred percent sure.”

And that’s how you end up participating in a supermarket scavenger hunt in San Francisco for the afternoon. You split up at the first two grocery stores, and with your head start you have an epiphany that your Christmas gift to Stiles could be snickerdoodles, as his dad said those were his favorite. So you grab some extra ingredients before heading to a very barren pasta aisle. Damn what was everyone in California making?

You meet Stiles, after he had similar luck, at a third grocery store. This time you get lucky and find a box of fettuccine which had been your goal.

“Okay so you’re envisioning alfredo? Nice. I can grab a jar-”

“No, no, no.” You literally force stop him in his tracks, “Everyone knows premade alfredo sauce is never good.”

“Yeah, I agree with you. But you expect me to make it from scratch?”

“I can help you.”

“I don’t want to keep putting you out on Christmas Eve.”

“Stiles, it's literally fine. Who else am I gonna hang out with?” You say with a smirk so he knows you’re teasing.

He still feels a pit in his stomach as he follows you to the refrigerated section where your sights are set on heavy cream and cheese.

“I guess I’ve just been curious…you didn’t have any friends to spend the holidays with?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “I have great friends. But honestly, a lot of them have families or significant others and it's not always fun being around that this time of year.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, I get that. I hate when I get stuck in DC by myself and I get a pity invite to something from one of my friends.”

“Yeah, it's nice but it's also tortuous.”

“Exactly,” He chuckles softly, but still feels something nagging at him, “I’m just surprised that you’re single…”

Your stomach churns uncomfortably but you don’t let it show, as you lead him determinedly to pick up an extra pack of butter. “Guess I haven’t found ‘the one’ yet.”

Stiles once again scoffs and mutters to himself, “How does one even know when they’ve found that.”

You try not to read into that and focus on making sure you get unsalted butter over salted, “I guess I’ll let you know when I find him.” Satisfied with your selection, you turn to him and stand up straight. “Do you guys have garlic powder?”

Stiles scrunches his face to think briefly and then shrugs, “No clue.”

You chuckle softly, turning to lead him toward the spice aisle, “Follow me.”

Wordlessly he trails behind you, and you’re thankful he’s dropped the topic of romance. For your sake and his, he’s the last person you should be talking to about relationships and dating when, fine, you’ll admit it, you’ve developed a very tiny and innocent crush on him. It was harmless but should he even get a single hint you had any sliver of feelings for him while he had a very long-term and serious girlfriend, then you’d lose his friendship. And worse. Your friendship with his dad. And you didn’t want to lose either.

“Can you explain to me the difference between garlic salt and garlic powder?” he asks inquisitively as you pick up the former.

You give him an amused look, “Uhhh, just general vibes I guess?”

Stiles nods and glances back at the array of spices, “And can you explain to me why nutmeg isn’t a nut?”

“Well, I’m not-”

“Or what the hell cardamom even is?” He asks with an incredulous look on his face as he takes a step back and takes in the whole aisle. “But seriously I’ve never heard of half of these spices.”

“Well that's because you don’t cook or bake.” You scoff.

“Hey, I thought I’ve been an excellent sous chef. Your words, not mine.” he crosses his arms, giving you a faux offended look.

“Yeah, thanks to my guidance.” You shrug, crossing your own arms.

“Okay then explain cumin to me.” He takes a step closer.

“Hey, I don’t question the ingredients, I just use them.” You hold your hands up in surrender.

Stiles scoffs, “Sounds like negligence in the kitchen to me.”

“Oh, what are you going to do, officer, suspend me from my post? In your hour of need?” You tease back, taking a challenging step closer.

A smirk starts to creep up on Stiles face, liking you in this close proximity to him. “Well, I think…”

Just as he’s forming a witty retort, his eyes drift just past your head to further down the aisle where a familiar strawberry blonde is standing. He almost calls out to her…until he processes the fact that she is not alone. Technically he isn’t either. But Lydia’s hand is intertwined with her counterpart, and said man is leaning down to kiss her. Right there in the spice aisle.

You squint at Stiles curiously just as the color drains from his face. You anxiously turn around in the direction he’s staring at and you instantly understand his expression. In fact, your heart breaks for him. You turn back to him quickly, his name escaping your lips in a quiet whisper. But before you can find any other words to console him, he’s side stepping around you and approaching his should-be girlfriend. You can barely stomach watching the scene unfold. In fact, you last the fraction of a second it takes for Lydia to realize she’d been caught red-haired and handed before you turn right around to give them privacy and vacate the aisle altogether.

You make yourself busy by checking out the items you’ve gathered and waiting in the parking lot where the bug is parked next to his blue jeep. Lydia and her companion exit the store first, and you avert your eyes as if she’d know who you were at all. Then two minutes later, Stiles exits and walks slowly over to you.

You’re once again at loss for words as he pulls his keys from his pocket and fumbles with them for a second.

“Can we talk at the house?” he mutters softly, his wounded eyes flashing to yours briefly before turning back to his keys.

You nod, hoping the drive back to Beacon Hills would help relax him as much as was even possible. You don’t say a word. You just squeeze his arm before getting into your own car to follow him out of the parking lot.

After a half hour, you’re both pulling into your respective driveways before you jog over to his front door. He waits on the porch for you before leading you both into the house you’ve become oh so comfortable in.

The air feels different though, a sense of tension looming. You take it upon yourself to unpack the groceries, getting the necessary items in the fridge while he flops on the couch with a loud breath you can hear from the kitchen. You also take it upon yourself to pour some alcohol. You decide on one glass of wine and one glass of whiskey. When you sit beside Stiles on the couch, he chooses the whiskey. And then you wait for him to talk.

“Is it bad that I’m not…surprised?” Is what he finally says.

You turn to him with narrowed eyes, “What?”

He groans and rubs his temple, “I just mean…I’ve had this feeling in my gut for a long time that the other shoe was going to drop for us at some point.”

“Why would you think that? I thought you two were…inseparable?”

He nods, “We were. When we…got together in high school…it's a long story but we went through a lot together that sort of…bonded us. And I’d had a crush on her since elementary school, long before she even knew I existed. So when we finally got together, I just thought, wow I can’t believe this is finally happening. Can’t believe a girl like her would even want to be with a guy like me. But even that first summer after high school it felt…forced? Like we were just together because it made sense that we were? And then the distance thing…it was hard but it also…wasn’t? Like I didn’t…miss her as much as I thought I would. Or at least…I didn’t long for her the way you’re supposed to. Like…aren’t you supposed to ache when you’re away from the person you love?”

He turns to you after that, and it catches her off guard, as you’d been studying his face as he tried to explain his complicated feelings.

Your voice is hoarse when you finally swallow and respond, “Yeah, I suppose…I mean, I guess I’ve never felt that either.”

Stiles nods slightly and studies her this time, “I guess what I’m trying to say is it felt like we were going through the motions for a while now and it was just a matter of time before one of us said it out loud.”

You frown, “But Stiles…even if it wasn’t working out or if she was unhappy, she shouldn’t have cheated on you. Or lied to you.”

Stiles closes his eyes and groans, “That's what pisses me off. All the times we’ve texted this week, which admittedly wasn’t much, she kept talking about the weather in fucking Massachusettes, when she’s been in San Francisco the whole time. Hell, I sent her Christmas present there last week!”

You close your own eyes at this. You had never been more sure someone deserves something less than the way Stiles deserved this. On Christmas Eve nonetheless.

He lets out another long breath and shakes his head, “But honestly it's still my fault.”

You make a face, “How in the world is it your fault?”

“For letting it get this far,” He shrugs, “I’ve known for years that our relationship was…off. And I never said anything. Or at the very least tried to do something to make it better. She probably felt me pulling away and jumped at the chance with someone else that actually gave her something. I think I just…held onto the idea of us. Or the idea I had of us when I was a teenager, pining over the popular girl in school. Like a part of me thought it had to work out and that whatever emptiness I felt was just how relationships were supposed to be because…what I always thought I wanted was her. And I had it.”

After a few beats of silence, Stiles glances at you again, “Did any part of that make any sense to you?”

You swallow thickly again and nod, “Yeah. I know exactly what you mean. I felt the same way about my high school boyfriend, too.”

His eyebrows raise, shocked to be getting a nugget of information regarding your romantic life.

You take a deep breath and turn away from him, figuring it would be easier to say this way.

“I’ve stuck by him longer than I should have too, because I always figured we’d end up together. Except…I’ve made the stupid decision to stick by him after he cheated on me. Twice.” You can sense Stiles eyes widen and shoulders tense beside you at this admission, but you force yourself to keep going, “And even after the second time, I’m still fucking friends with him. In fact, I called him before I came here. And he still reaches out to me almost daily even though he just got engaged to the girl he left me for. All because some twisted part of me thinks our stories still intertwine at the end.”

“He’s the guy that's been calling and texting you all week?” Stiles murmurs, almost not as a question. “Joel.”

The name sounds bitter coming out of Stiles mouth. You almost laugh as you nod. “Yeah. A huge reason I came on this trip was to forget about him, but it's like he knows and he doesn’t want me to.”

“No, that’s exactly what he’s doing. Stringing along while he gets to do whatever and whoever he wants. He’s an asshole.”

You snort, “Your dad called him a schmuck.”

“God, the biggest fucking schmuck.”

You smile to yourself, “You already seem so much more self aware of your situation than me. Maybe you can avoid my fate and not be destined to love someone who’d hurt you like that.”

“I don’t think you’re destined for that…” Stiles whispers, “I think you were right earlier. You just haven’t found ‘the one’ yet.”

You manage a tiny smile as you and Stiles stare at one another with your heads leaning against the couch cushions. Instead of getting lost in his eyes while he looks at you like that, you lift up your wine glass in a silent request to clink it against his. “To both of us finding the one.”

The corners of Stiles' mouth twitch as he clinks. After another beat, Stiles forces himself off the couch with a surprising spring in his step. He turns to you and offers you a hand, “Okay no more wallowing. It's the holidays. We’re festive. We’re merry. We’re bright. Now let's go make some Christmas fettuccine.”

Your smile grows and you take his hand, and you don’t miss the squeeze he gives you and the way he doesn’t let your hand drop until you’re well into the kitchen.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ only the good notes ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Your Christmas Eve took a sharp turn in a positive direction that night. The alcohol kept flowing, and maybe it was your brain under the influence of it, but you’re pretty sure the homemade alfredo you taught Stiles how to make was better than anything you’ve ever made in your whole life.

By the time Stiles’ dad arrives home that evening, he finds you both on your second bottle of wine, sprawled out in the living room, playing a very serious game of battleship. Noah doesn’t question it, and just heats up a plate of fettuccine and joins you when you switch to Clue.

Of course you finish out the night with a movie, and Stiles lobbies for sci-fi this time, and you allow it - definitely because of the alcohol.

However, you also definitely pass out within thirty minutes. But somehow, you still awake in your bed next door on Christmas morning. But you don’t dwell on it.

You take a shower - after you’ve popped three advil and down a glass of water - and make the snickerdoodles for Stiles. Once they’re done you put them in a festive tupperware container and a gift bag, before wrapping the sweater for Noah in a gift box.

After doing yourself up a little nicer than you normally would for a drop in at the Stilinskis, you head next door midafternoon, more excited for Christmas than you had been in recent years. Noah greets you at the door with a Merry Christmas and sweet kiss on the cheek before taking your bags and putting them by the tree in the living room. Stiles is already pouring you a glass of wine when you both meet him in the kitchen to get started on your grand meal for the evening.

The sheriff took charge of the ham while you and Stiles were responsible for sides. Meaning, you made the mac and cheese while Stiles prepared the salad and rolls.

You eat at the table and as always, enjoy lively conversation with the men who are quickly becoming two of your favorite people on the planet for welcoming you into their home for the holiday you otherwise would have spent alone. Your heart nearly grows three sizes when they announce they found Christmas Crackers to order online - a British holiday tradition - because they thought it would make you feel more at home. You really have to hold back from tearing up.

The three of you tag team cleaning up the meal before retiring to the living room for the night, where you exchange presents. Just as you predicted, Noah loves the sweater and you equally love the vinyl record of the original soundtrack for 13 Going on 30. Stiles chastises you both for being too obsessed with rom-coms but there’s a fond smile on his face as he does it.

That’s when you give Stiles his present and he’s both touched and confused that you were aware of his affinity for snickerdoodles. As he thanks you, he shares a wistful look with his dad. At your questioning stare, he smiles at you softly and explains, “My mom used to make these all the time.”

Your heart aches briefly, glancing at Noah who had left that detail out he told you that information. The man just shrugs, “Well, hers came out burnt half the time.”

Stiles and you both laugh, you in shock at the fond critique.

“They were still incredible,” Stiles insists.

Still laughing, you look back at Stiles, “Alright, noted, I’ll bake them a tad longer next time.”

Stiles’ stomach flips. Next time.

Finally, since Stiles and his dad exchanged their gifts in the morning, the last gift of the evening was Stiles’ gift to you. He handed you a haphazardly wrapped rectangle you pretended to shake to hear something as if it were hollow, but you were already pretty sure it was a book.

Stiles shrugs as you eye him while tearing the paper off, “It’s nothing really. You probably already have it.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “Stop it, you didn’t have it get me anything at all. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

You stare down at the book in your hands as you finally get the paper off. It’s one of those special edition books, with the shiny colored pages and gorgeously redesigned covers. The ones you always see in bookstores but never end up buying because you can never settle with picking just one.

“Emma by Jane Austen?”

“Yeah, it's your favorite isn’t it?”

“Did I tell you that?”

Stiles nods, his fingers intertwined together, one of his nervous ticks you’ve picked up on. “Yeah, when we were watching Clueless. You said it's the book the movie’s based off of.”

You stare at the book in awe, before transferring that look to him, “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

He shrugs again, “Of course. Well. Sort of ordered the book on the spot. Amazon. Capitalism. The true meaning of Christmas.”

You huff a soft laugh, still shaking your head at his thoughtfulness despite playing it off. “Thank you. I love it.”

His lips curve up, “Good. I’m glad.”

For his part, Noah watches the scene unfold hiding a smile behind his whiskey glass. As far as he knew, Stiles was still hanging onto his relationship with Lydia by a thread. But he had a feeling that thread was about to snap if it hadn’t already.

At that moment, you seem to remember that the two of you weren’t the only people in the room and you clear your throat. “Well, speaking of rom-coms, is it time for Love, Actually?”

Stiles snaps out of it himself and jumps up, picking up discarded pieces of wrapping paper on the way. “Yeah, let’s do it!”

Two days after Christmas you find yourself alone with Stiles for the first time since the supermarket incident turned one of your favorite Christmas Eve-Christmas’s of your life. On the 26th Stiles went to Scott’s for their friend group Secret Santa. He had mentioned being stressed about it, having had picked Isaac who he for some reason had a love-beef relationship with. But during one of his pop ups at your place, you helped him order something simple for the other guy.

You were excited to hear how it all went down the next day. On the morning of the 27th, Stiles texted you to inform you his dad was working all day and he’d order Chinese for them tonight if she was up for it. And she definitely was. He comes over around five, and they call the restaurant together, ordering way too much food for either of them to consume.

As you sip wine in the living room and wait for your dinner, you ask about Secret Santa. Isaac, unsurprisingly, loved his gift. And then Stiles received his from his other friend Liam who got him a Batman crewneck. You quip it would have been better if it was a Ten Things I Hate About You crewneck, Heath Ledger’s finer work, and he rolls his eyes. Affectionately.

Stiles also admits he had to tell his friends about him and Lydia. They were both shocked and appalled and glad she didn’t RSVP for the party this year.

“It must be hard…sharing a friend group with her. I’d imagine they’re not just going to cast her out.” You comment softly.

Stiles nods, “Yeah. And I wouldn’t want them to. It’ll just take some…adjusting.”

You hum, “Take it from me…it's hard staying in close proximity. I mean, I know you’ve been long distance anyway but even mutual friends' instagram stories are a hard place to run into them.”

Stiles cringes, “Yeah like I said…an adjustment.”

You hesitate before asking one question lingering on your mind, “Do you think..there’s a part of you considering taking her back?”

His eyebrows raise in surprise but he doesn’t immediately deny it. “I mean…it's definitely crossed my mind. Like I said, I always just assumed we’d stay together but…at the end of the day I think both of us deserve better than a relationship we’re only in half way.”

You nod, “Even if one day you both find yourself in the same place, or city?”

Stiles sighs, “I guess you can’t really plan for that.”

Still not a firm denial. You couldn’t really fault him for that. The breakup was still fresh.

Once your Chinese food arrives, you set everything out on your coffee table and you dig in, while throwing a sitcom on the TV you’ve both seen a dozen times so you can talk over it. Ten minutes into your feast, Stiles glances at the vacant arm chair across the room, that wasn’t really vacant, because your stack of art supplies filled it.

“Wait, do you paint? Or draw?” Stiles asks, squinting at the items across from him.

You flush slightly, but it wasn’t like it was a secret. “Uh, yeah. A little bit of both.”

Stiles sputters, “You’ve been here a week and I didn’t know that?”

“You say that like it's been a lifetime.”

As he stands he mutters, “That's what it feels like.”

You choose not to linger on whatever that means.

Stiles hovers over the chair and then turns to you. “Oh, um..may I?”

Your stomach flips anxiously but you find yourself nodding. “Sure.”

Stiles smiles gleefully and picks up your sketchbook before plopping back down on the couch beside you. You watch anxiously as he starts flipping through. Like you had said, it contained sketches and some of which you painted.

He gives you a sideways glance after he looks at a few, “You seriously drew these? Free hand?”

You laugh softly, shifting into a semi-fetal position. You can count on one hand the number of people that have seen your drawings, outside of classes you took at university. “Yup.”

“They’re incredible,” he murmurs, continuing to flip through. Then he lingers on one and you figure he’d found the drawing you’d been anxiously anticipating his reaction to. You lean over slightly to confirm your theory and you were correct. It was a detailed drawing of the exterior of Stiles and his dad’s home, complete with the patrol car and blue jeep in the driveway. You’d gone over it with watercolors, feeling particularly inspired that day. For some reason.

He glances at you for a split second before reverting back to the painting. “That’s Roscoe.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Oh right. That's my Jeep’s name.”

“Does everyone name their cars?”

“What you don’t?”

“I don’t have a car right now. I live in a very walkable city.”

“Don’t rub it in,” Stiles snorts, and doesn’t even take his eyes off of the painting. “Seriously, this is amazing.”

You feel your cheeks warm, “It's okay if you think it's dumb.”

Stiles vehemently shakes his head. “Not dumb at all. You’re so talented. And this one’s my favorite, not even a little biased.”

You smile as he grins back at you teasingly.

“Seriously, would you ever consider doing something with this?” he inquires.

You shrug, “I don’t know. I think my real passion is writing. But I kind of want to get out of journalism and do more with fiction. I’ve sometimes thought it could be cool to write a children’s book and illustrate it myself.”

“That would be so cool,” Stiles says all soft and earnestly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, glancing back down at the page again, “Would it be too much if I asked to keep this?”

Your cheeks warm again, “You want to?”

“Yeah, I told you it's my favorite. And then I’d be the first person to have one of your originals.” He glances at you, “Unless you give these out willy nilly.”

You laugh, “Nope. You’d be the first.”

He grins again, “Thank you.” After a beat, another thought crosses his mind, “Could you draw me?”

“Are you asking me if I can? Or if I will?”

He shrugs, “Can you? Would you?”

You scoff, “Are you asking me to draw you like one of my French girls?”

“Depends. Would I have to be topless?”

“If you want it to be authentic.”

“Well, fine if it's for the sanctity of art, I shall.”

As you both laugh together, you finally register how close you’ve been next to him. In fact, you lean closer as you laugh. And for the first time, you don’t feel the urge to cut the moment short or pull away. Stiles seems to register the same thing as his laughter dies down. His eyes linger on your eyes for one, two, three more seconds…before they venture to your lips.

As if by gravitational pull, you both lean closer until your lips brush against one anothers. Stiles reaches out and tenderly cups your face, pulling you closer to fully commit to the kiss, which you eagerly reciprocate.

You’d admittedly thought about what this would feel like since pretty much every day since you met him. But you never seriously considered it actually happening. Not with the limited time you were spending here. Not with his dad is such close proximity at all times. Not with-

The girl he had broken up with merely 48 hours ago.

Despite the kiss being better than your fantasies could have conjured up, you jerk back once you regain awareness of the situation.

Stiles’ eyes shoot open as you sink back into the couch, away from his touch. His eyebrows knit together in confusion, as worry and guilt build in his chest.

“Shit, was that not okay?”

You move your head somewhere between a nod and shake back and forth. “It was okay, I just think…you’re fresh off of a breakup with your long-term girlfriend and I don’t want to take advantage of all the things you're feeling right now.”

Stiles nods but the frown stays on his face, “Admittedly yes there are a lot of feelings swirling through me right now, but most if not all are for you.”

You swallow and close your eyes tightly, because if you keep looking at him you won’t have the strength to say or do the right thing. “I know what you mean but…I also think you’ve had a lot to think about in so little time and I don’t want to factor in and affect anything.”

“But-”

“And I won’t be here for very much longer and if anything, that should be what factors in the most.”

Anything Stiles was going to stay dies on his tongue in that moment, feeling the wind get knocked out of him. Yes, subconsciously he’d always been aware your time in Beacon Hills was limited. But after the last couple of days, after that kiss, the reality hit him twice as hard. Despite having known you for just about a week, he’d still had some of the most incredible days of his life getting to know you, cooking with you, laughing with you, watching you bond and look after his father in ways he hadn’t been able to do in recent years. He couldn’t stomach the idea of all of that coming to an end, before they could even start…something. Anything.

“It doesn’t have to be…” Stiles manages to whisper, but it's a weak argument without anything to back it up.

You give him a watery smile, “I’ve had a really amazing holiday with you. And your dad. But…I think for now you should just…sit with your breakup and think about what you really want. Hell, I’ve been sitting with mine for years and I still have yet to figure that out.”

Stiles’ face contorts at the mention of your ex, “But this is different.”

“This is…fleeting.” You sigh with a tired shrug, “And not worth more than what you have here.”

Stiles wants to argue, say that what he’s had here for years pales in comparison to what he’s had the past few days with you. But he knows how crazy it sounds. And he knows his relationship with Lydia meant enough to him to at least think about for a little longer.

He takes a deep breath and finally nods. But he can’t leave it like this. “I don’t want this to be our goodbye.”

You force a smile again, “It’s not. I’m still here for a little while longer. I’ll see you before I go. Just take a couple days.”

He nods again, comforted by the idea of seeing you again and that's enough to propel him to his feet and walk towards the door.

“You’ll still come by if you need anything right? And I mean anything?”

You nod as you open the front door for him slowly. “Of course. I know where to find you guys.”

He nods, grinding his teeth. He brushes his lips against your forehead briefly, before ducking outside without another word.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ gumption ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Admittedly cutting Stiles and subsequently his dad out of your life for even one day was harder than you thought, especially considering they’ve been your only form of real life human connection the past week or so.

Sure, you’ve spoken to your friends over the phone and FaceTime but when you’ve truly felt whole this holiday season, it's been with one or both of the Stilinskis. Even in such a short amount of time, they’ve become almost sort of…family.

And maybe that's your problem overall. Even without romance complicating your relationship with Stiles, you were still becoming overly attached to these two men who you would likely never see again in just a few days. Gaining and losing two more people in your life was not the goal of this getaway.

So for that whole day without them, you focus on yourself. You take yourself shopping and take advantage of those post-Christmas sales, but most things were well picked over. You treat yourself to a mani-pedi but of course you regret the color choice an hour later. Instead of cooking dinner, you order takeout but they forget two of the things you wanted. Even baking and drawing don’t bring you peace.

Sighing against the couch, with a heavy poured glass of wine, you rub your head and wonder what else you could possibly be doing to take your mind off of the boy next door.

As if by clockwork, your phone buzzes from where you discarded it on the coffee table. You sit up a little faster than you should have when you consider it could be Stiles who is reaching out. But you face disappointment when you see that it's Joel.

And for some reason…you pick it up this time.

“Hey,” you breathe out, unsure of your game plane here.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Joel’s thick posh accent glides through the phone. “Wanted to see how your holidays were. I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

You sigh, feeling yourself slipping back into the comfort of his familiar voice. He always claimed terms of endearments were how he spoke to everyone. But you’ve never heard him use them for anyone other than his significant other, or you even if you weren’t his. It had begun to bug you over the last couple months, but tonight, you’re falling for it.

“They were really good. Sorry I’ve been missing your calls, I’ve been pretty busy,” You find yourself apologizing for some reason.

“That's alright, love. I’m glad to hear you found things to do over there.” He muses and you almost hear the smile on his face over the phone. “You know…I’ve really missed you. Christmas in Richmond isn’t the same without you here.”

For once in your life, you find yourself saying what you’re thinking to him, “I’m sure you’ve got your fiance to keep you company though, right? First Christmas as an engaged couple?”

There’s silence on the other end, briefly. “I’ve actually been thinking about that a lot lately. I’m not quite sure that’s going to work out.”

Your eyebrows furrow, “What? Your engagement?”

“The whole relationship,” he admits softly, “Look, darling I’ve been thinking about you a lot the last couple weeks. Pretty much non-stop since you left. And I realized…maybe I made a mistake.”

Your heart just about stops. This is what you always thought would happen. He’d come to his senses and come back to you.

But it doesn’t feel the way you thought it would.

“What do you mean, Joel?” You ask and you hate how shaky your voice sounds.

“I mean…I fucked up when I let you go-”

“Yeah. Twice.”

“I know, darling,” he sighs, “And you know how sorry I was. And I think this time away from you made me really think about everything. And think about what I really want.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, “And you want…me?”

He chuckles, “That’s exactly what I’m trying to say, love.”

You’re at loss for words as your brain tries to make sense of this information. Everything in you is screaming not to give into this, but there is still a small piece of you that reminds you how much simpler it would be. He was familiar. He lived in your town. He was a safer choice than a man thousands of miles away.

Just as you feel your resolve melting, before you have a chance to respond you hear Joel’s voice again, but this time it's distant, accompanied by muffled noises. As if he was talking to someone else.

“Give me one second, doll…” are the only works you make out…followed by footsteps and a door closing.

“Darling-”

“I’m sorry,” you scoff, “Are you with her right now?”

“Sweetheart, I’m-”

“Oh, my God you are actually unbelievable,” You shake your head despite him not being there, “You call me to tell me you want me back from the house you still share with your fiance you are still very much with!”

You hear him let out a long, tired breath, “Darling, I wish you could understand how confused all of these feelings have made me.”

“You may be confused, but I’m not anymore. I am so done with this.”

He stutters, “Darling, what do you mean? You can’t be saying-”

“I’m saying I’m done with you, Joel. In every possible way. I’m done waiting around for you. I’m done allowing you into my life even when you don’t deserve to be in any capacity. And I am sure as hell done thinking I’m in love with you.”

“Darling-”

“Goodbye, Joel.” And without another thought, you hang up. And not a part of you feels guilty that that might very well be the last time you ever speak to him.

You start pacing the living room. You could not believe you almost fell for it again, even though he was doing the exact thing he always does. And that’s when you realize, he wasn’t the safe choice because he was a good choice. He was safe because deep down you know what you were getting yourself into with him. There was always a chance he could hurt you but you could prepare for it. With someone else, someone knew, it was unpredictable and that's what made things scary.

But you were tired of that fear holding you back.

Suddenly coming to your own senses, you realize there’s someone you desperately need to talk to. And soon, while your adrenaline is still pumping.

You glance out of your front window. The patrol car next door was missing from the driveway. But the blue jeep was there. Suddenly remembering something, you grab your sketchbook and dash outside, straight to the neighboring front door, knocking quickly. Nervously, you hug the sketchbook to your chest as you wait.

Moments later, the door swings open and you’re greeted by those warm brown eyes you’ve grown so fond of the last couple weeks.

“Hi,” you say breathlessly, like you’d been holding your breath since you knocked. Which you had been,

“Hi,” he says, sounding very similar.

“Can I come in?” You ask quickly before you lose the nerve.

Startled by your assertiveness, he nods quickly and steps out of the way. You hurry inside and into the living room, Stiles following close behind.

“First of all, I realized you forgot this.” You shakily flip through your book before you get to the page with the same blue jeep that was parked outside. And inspite of your shakiness, you carefully tear out the page, thankful for the perforated lines.

“Oh,” Stiles is surprised when you hand him your artwork, “You’re still okay with me having this?”

You shrug, “You’re the only one who should.”

He blinks at you before allowing a small smile to creep on his face.

“I forgot something last night, too.” You continue softly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, still feeling like you were short on breath. “I know I said me and you are fleeting, and that it was complicated with the timing of your breakup but I never told you that…I have feelings for you too. Lots and lots of feelings.”

Stiles’ smile wobbles, “You do?”

“Yes. And the truth was I was afraid of them. Not because of you. You’re probably the nicest guy I’ve ever met. But because the circumstances are hard and you’d have the incredibly anxiety-inducing ability to break my heart if I let you in the way I want to.”

His name escapes your lips breathlessly, taking a step closer as he prepares to deny your fear.

You step in the opposite direction, wanting to finish your thoughts, “No, no, it's true and that’s okay. Because neither of us can promise that everything will go perfectly. That's life. My dad promised he’d always be around and then he got sick, that wasn’t his fault. Things just happen. But I’ve spent the last however many years trying to prevent things from happening, that I’ve also stopped living my life to the fullest. Stop going after things I want. And right now, I really, really want you.”

Stiles watches you intently, and you let out a deep breath to let him know you’re done.

“I just wanted you to know that,” you finish quietly.

Stiles nods and takes a deep breath of his own. “I talked to Lydia today.”

You breath hitches. “Oh? You did?”

He nods again, “Yeah. And we’re officially over.”

Your eyes widen, “You…are?”

Stiles walks closer to you again and this time you don’t move back. His lips start to curve up again. “I want you, too. And I know there’s a lot of variables, and we can’t predict the future, but here today, right here right now, I know that I haven’t felt this way about anyone, especially in such a short amount of time, and I’ll do whatever I can to make this work.”

Your lip quivers as he further invades your space, his forehead pressing against yours. He gently grips your chin.

“Does that sound okay to you?” He whispers.

You nod, swallowing a disbelieving laugh. “That sounds perfect.”

Stiles grins and finally presses his lips to yours, and not a bone in your body ever wants to pull away. In fact, you chase his mouth when he pulls away, and he fights a laugh of his own.

“Hey,” he whispers, holding your face gently between his hands and looking at you amusedly, “Quick question. Do you want to go out with me on New Year’s Eve?”

Just as you start to beam at him, your smile falters. “I’ll be back in England by New Years Eve.”

He frowns briefly too before fixing a determined look on his face, not breaking eye contact with you. “You know I’ve never been to England. I’ve never even been to another continent.”

You squint, your heart racing as you chuckle softly, “Oh yeah? You sound like me.”

He starts to grin again, “If I come over there…then will you go out with me?”

This time you fully beam, “I’d love to.”

Stiles kisses you again, more hungrily this time. And you count yourself lucky his dad walked in the house at that point, and not five minutes later when god knows what position you would have been in.

Instead you just pull apart slightly, to laugh after he exclaims, “I knew it!”

Stiles holds you tightly in his arms, not wanting to let you go for even a second as his dad begins teasing them. You’re pretty sure you’ve never felt happier. Or safer. And even though you still had so much to figure out, you weren’t going to overthink it. You were content living in the moment, as long as many of those moments were spent in Stiles arms as possible.

author's note: can't wait to hear what everyone thinks!! and hope everyone has a wonderful start to 2025 <3

#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski fanfic #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles x reader #the holiday au #my writing #mine #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf fanfiction

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crusty-chronicles · 7 months ago

Note

heey! Good morning/night! So I was thinking about how Kurapika, Feitan and Chrollo would react to their S/O seeking to annihilate all the members of their own family because they think their blood is cursed (in a headcanons form if possible), since whenever someone in their own family gets involved in something this thing It always ends with someone dead/hurt but like on a extreme way. That's why their S/O was so difficult to get close to, and like they are VERY strong, well even if you don't make that request I would like to praise your writing!! 💗💗 (I'm using a translator, so any mistakes I apologize)

Apologies, I don't write for any of the phantom troupe, buuuuuut I do write for Kurapika so these head cannons will be based around him. Thank you 💕

Kurapika With An S/O Who Hunts Down Their Family

—---------------

Cold and calculated.

If you were to ask Kurapika what he thought of you, that's what he would say.

You were always so distant from everybody else. Finding solace in the quiet. Yet you were still very aware of your surroundings.

He'd met you formally as one of Neon’s bodyguards.

You were a blacklist hunter hired for extra help. Your specialty being claiming bounties.

Had he done the research back then, he would've seen that all your targets had one thing in common: they were all related.

But he didn't, and now he was left with the mystery of you.

Why were you here?

What did you gain by helping the Nostrade’s out?

Answers he wouldn't get for a long time.

Not until he'd caught Uvogin and dealt with him, did he learn about your motives.

He was doing his best to suppress his blood lust. Trying to calm himself down before he lashed out. He didn't even notice when you walked in.

Too lost in the feeling of the way blood coated his hands to process your presence.

“This is personal for you, isn't it?” You asked.

It was the first time he's ever heard your voice.

And it had him on edge.

Jumping back in surprise the second it hit his ears. He needed to be alone right now.

One wrong misstep and he'd hurt you.

But you didn't seem afraid. You didn't even acknowledge his disheveled appearance.

Instead taking a step closer.

“Maybe we could help each other out? My next target is someone who owns a pair of Scarlet Eyes.”

His eyes widened before narrowing in hostility. Immediately one of his chains had wrapped around you.

You didn't flinch.

“How do you know about that?” He questioned. His chain tightening around you.

What exactly did you know?

Were you working with someone?

Could you be apart of the troupe?

“You forgot to put your contacts in.”

You gestured towards his eyes.

Oh.

How foolish of him to act so impulsively. He released you. Yet there was a nagging feeling telling him to continue interrogating you.

You knew about the Kurta clan, or at least what happened to it.

And you'd deduced from his reaction that he was connected to them in some way. His own eyes only confirmed it for you.

“I don't plan on being here for long. I'm leaving after the auction. I'll give you some time to think about my offer.” Your voice snapping him from his thoughts.

He already knew his answer, but what he wanted to know was-

“Why?”

“Why would you help me? How does me tagging along benefit you?”

He just couldn't wrap his head around it. What use could he possibly be of to you. Did you just want someone to get their hands dirty for you? Or would this be a true partnership?

“I lost my Hunter license years ago. I unfortunately don't have access to the information I need. And there's places I can't get to without a license,” you explained.

“So you want my license in exchange for information?”

“Not necessarily. I have no desire to keep it. It would just be nice to have some more tools at my disposal. You don't have to say yes. I could always give you the eyes when I'm done.”

No, he needed to be involved. He wouldn't forgive himself if he let someone else avenge his clan, even if it was unintentional.

Thus your partnership began.

You were still distant. Treating your alliance as purely business.

Kurapika didn't mind. It meant he wouldn't get attached to another person. He wouldn't have anyone else to worry about.

But…. there were times when you were warm.

When you allowed yourself to grin so brightly.

When you opened up ever so slightly.

And in those rare moments, he found himself wanting to be close.

When he'd gotten sick in York New, you were taking care of him alongside Leorio.

He remembers the feeling of your hand on his forehead. The coolness of your skin.

He remembers refusing medicine and only accepting when you asked him to.

‘It's for your own good, Kurapika. Please open up.’ your tone cooing.

And he remembers reaching for your hand in his sleep. Awakening blearily to you still grasping it.

In his mind, you were friends to some extent.

He'd looked after you too. The first pair of eyes you collected together, you'd gotten wounded badly by your target.

Bleeding out and yet for some reason, you were dead set on claiming the bounty.

Not stopping until they were dead at your feet. And only then had you collapsed.

He spent days watching over you. Making sure your wounds were clean and stitched up.

A part of him worried he'd lose you.

He couldn't help but scold you when you awoke.

‘Do you have any idea how bad your injuries were? How much blood you lost? Why? Why didn't you just stop?’

You didn't answer him.

Confused as to why he cared so much.

If you died, what did it matter to him?

Maybe a part of you realized your relationship had become more than surface level.

‘I’m sorry,’ you offered.

You were always more careful from then on.

And your trust in the blonde only seemed to grow.

He'd treat your wounds after fights, and you'd take care of his.

When he was overcome with emotion, eyes glowing with his anger, you'd find a way to calm him down. Watching as the red faded little by little.

You should've known something would go wrong.

Things never tended to last when your people were involved.

This target you were chasing was vastly different from your previous ones.

You tried to go it alone, but Kurapika insisted on helping you.

You should've said no.

Your target laid beneath your foot. Kurapika a few feet behind you.

You should've been quicker to end them

But you weren't. You'd had the misfortune of letting them identify you.

An expression of distaste on their features before they spoke.

“So you've finally found me? Some sibling you are.”

You'd immediately taken their life, but the damage had already been done.

“What did they mean by that?” Kurapika questioned. His tone accusing.

“It’s nothing.” You dismissed.

But you'd spent far too much time together for him to fall for it.

“Don't lie to me. All this time.. All this time you were hunting down your family?”

He stood in front of you now, eyes a bright scarlet.

“You don't understand-” You tried to explain.

“What is there to understand!?!” He snapped.

“They're murders!”

“They're your family!”

Did you have any idea what he would have given to spend one last moment with his family? And here you were justifying taking the lives of your own. it made his blood boil.

He trusted you.

“Only by blood. Don't you dare group me in with them!” you screamed.

You refused to be associated with those monsters.

You two stood in silence. You didn't know how to show him the things you'd seen. How to convey the exact opposite of what he was thinking.

He was hurt, that much you could tell.

“Kurapika, they're horrible evil people. Everywhere they go, there's a path of pain and destruction left behind. They're- they're cursed.” You were pleading with him to listen to you. Sounding desperate and crazy in the process.

But you were scared.

Scared of losing him.

“Does that make you cursed? If they're evil, then what does that make you.” He asked. His voice rising as he came closer to you.

“Am I going to end up hurt following you around? Are you gonna end up killing me?”

He was trying to make you see this wasn't the way. That you were going too far by doing this.

You wouldn't hurt him. He knew you wouldn't. If your bloodline was cursed with carnage, surely you would've demonstrated it by now.

“I don't know.” You answered honestly.

“But I have to stop them.” You met his fiery gaze with determination. You weren't backing down.

“You're not like them. Stop while you're ahead.”

Before your anger had consumed you.

“I can't. I thought you of all people would understand that.”

You want to walk past him, stopping when he grabbed your arm.

“Then we'll find another way to stop them.”

He was in too deep with you.

“We?” Your tone was skeptical.

“You still need me right? Justice will prevail. But you cannot stoop to their level to do it.”

Why was he still trying? Why couldn't he just let you go?

“Why do you want to help if what I'm doing goes against your morals.”

You looked up at him once more. The red becoming faded. You could see nothing but a yearning behind his eyes.

“Because you're important to me.”

And you could feel it. The subtle way your heart beat faster.

#hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #hxh x y/n #hunter x hunter #hxh #x reader #hxh kurapika #kurapika x reader #kurapika kurta

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befuddledcinnamonroll · 8 months ago

Text

So with some of the takes I've been seeing in the Wandee Goodday tag, I wanted to share my perspective.

Just to note - I firmly believe art is subjective and what we see can vary a great deal based on our own perspectives and lived experiences. I'm not calling anyone wrong, I'm just saying this is my personal take on things. (I feel like this should be obvious, but nuance is so often lost online).

And my main goal with watching QL is fun and escapism. I'm here to have a good time. I tend to go with the flow, I like imperfect characters (I even like the fucked-up ones), and I trust the characterization and plot elements to be doing what they need to do until a problem shows within the narrative itself.

Ok, disclaimers done - here's my take on Dee & Yak's interactions around the fake dating idea.

I think all of their interactions are deeply affected by the degree to which they have already developed genuine feelings for each other, but are not yet in a place to admit it, even to themselves.

Do I think Yak has real concerns about being out as a boxer trying to hit a career high? Absolutely. But I think his quick jump to a "let's end this" reaction was mostly a kneejerk attempt to protect himself for what he felt when Dee, the man he is already emotionally connected to, and desperately wants to be able to kiss, dropped a request for fake dating over a real deepening of their relationship.

We don't yet know the level of societal homophobia this show is aiming for, BL land can go many different ways with this, but considering his brother's openness in the gym that he owns, training boxers, there is a tone being set. Yak literally holds hands with Dee in the middle of the street. He doesn't panic when people recognize him at the hospital. This may change, but I'm going to trust the signposts that his career concerns are valid, yes, but are not the dominant issue between them.

Similarly, is Dee competitive and overly focused on winning? Clearly. It's set up in his earlier conversation with Yak for a reason. But at the same time, his insistence that it has to be Yak is not just about his need to win - again, this is about genuine feeling. He wants Yak. This is a way to get Yak, and to frame it to himself in a way that feels less scary and vulnerable, especially after being hurt by Ter.

I know a lot of people saw Dee as being pushy. I do agree with that, and yes it is going to cause more issues for them in the future. But I wish more people also saw Yak holding firm to his boundaries and refusing to give in to the immature behavior from Dee, showing why he's such a good partner for Dee.

And sure, we haven't seen Dee support Yak as much so far, but the scene with the mother and child wasn't there just for kicks. Dee is empathetic and caring, and that will be important in his relationship with Yak as well. He is there for people when things are at their worst.

Some people see Dee on the bridge as being manipulative.

I saw Dee as finally cutting out the toddler shit and being emotionally real about why he's taking the scholarship too seriously, how sensitive he is to what people think of him, why Yak is someone he trusts implicitly, and how he knows it's not Yak's problem and it isn't fair to expect him to fix it.

Some people see Yak as finally agreeing to fake date as showing he is weak to emotional manipulation.

I see a man who has more agency than that. I see a man who is affected by seeing genuine vulnerability both because of how caring he is as an individual, and because of how much he wants a real emotional connection to Dee. And eyes-open, he makes a choice.

These are two characters who have never just been friends with benefits from the beginning. And the narrative has never been about what they are saying. It's about what they are feeling.

#wandee goodday #wandee gooday the series

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jakedoxxenvasion · 1 year ago

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drunk jealousy

ex boyfriend! jake × female! reader

warning: unprotected sex, MDNI! rough sex, friend with benefits? and more

words count: 997

pt.2

what are we?

three months ago maybe you could act like this but it's all over now but why you keep coming back to him like you're under a spell but he also act the same way. you both end the relationship but two weeks after break up, you find him standing in front of your door.

drunk, he invited himself in and things happen, you found yourself next to him next to him the next day you wake up. "i'm sorry, i was out of my mind. i promise, this won't happen again." a merely empty promise that he made when he woke up, realize whatever he made and he left like it's nothing.

but the next few days he came again and yet you let him in again, either he's tipsy or sober, he's always find his way back to your apartment. shamelessly.. but none of you complain about it.

because sex with him feel so good..

but nothing more than that, he never even mention of getting back together nor being friend with you or just anything but purely sex and fuck. you don't even know what are you to him because none of you mention it at all. everytime he come, he fuck the hell out of you and left, he's drunk he will stay the night and disappear when you wake up the next morning.

"j-jake.."his name slip out of your lips everytime, he look down at you with a smirk. "yeah babe? you like it?"those nickname that never change. babe, sweetheart, love, princess.. but you're both no longer a lover, those just slip from his lips so naturally and he's used to it after those two years both of you spent together.

dark eyes with lust as he fuck his dick into you, your moan echoing in the room, skin slapping sound fill the air. "s-shit i'm close."his hand hovers below your thigh, and picks it up making you scream as he places your thigh on his shoulder, he's in so deep.

you could practically feel his cock in your abdomen, low soft 'daddy' and 'so good' leaves your mouth. your mind goes blank, filled with only the thought of his cock hitting your g-spot so perfectly. "my pretty girl can't form any words, can she? aren't you just fucked dumb babe?"you hummed softly to answer him, couldn't utter a word.

how come sex with him always feel this good, he know your body so well and he just know how to make you feel good. "such a slut for me, huh babe?"his words make you clench hard on his dick making him growl lowly, he's pounding into you so hard that almost make you lose your mind over it. his grip on your hips surely will left marks later at how tight he hold you.

you could feel the intense coil building up in your abdomen, and your fingers dig into his muscles, almost drawing blood from the grip. jake curses loudly, his cock twitching inside you as soon as he feels your pussy squirt all around him. "oh fuck-"

and just like that, ropes of cum paint your walls, and his hands caress your hips slowly as he throws his head back. you could only moan at the warm feeling filling you up, your mind completely lost in euphoria of the orgasm. jake still in you for the next few second before he pull out from you, sighing then he let his own body fall next to you on the bed.

a soft chuckle escape his lips, his barely open eyes look at you before he lean in to kiss you. you never push him away but give in and kiss him back, his hand caressed your cheek so delicately. a soft whimper escape your lips before he pull away from the kiss, never break eye contact and he chuckle again. "so fucking pretty for me, huh love?"

you blink your eyes and smile at him, too tired to utter a word. "so perfect, lowkey wanna make you mine again."he whisper but received no respond from you, "what about friends with benefits?"he asked, he wrap his arms around your body, pulling you close to him and you're practically spoon by him now.

you humming, you close your eyes as you lean your back on him, whatever he want with you, you're up for it as long as you get to fuck him everytime you want. you could feel his chin on your shoulder, sometimes he give you a soft peck around your neck and cheek until you completely fall asleep in his embrace.

for the first time in awhile, when you woke up the next morning, jake is still there laying beside you, sleeping peacefully. you whine softly when he wrap his arm around you and pull you close to him, you heart thumping at the closeness, it feel so familiar. "good morning, love."his deep voice greet, you could feel his hot breath on your shoulder and his pampered you with kisses around your shoulder and neck.

"j-jake.."you push him slowly before you get up from the bed, he give you a confused look. "you will be late for class if you keep staying here like this."nah both of you know that's not the reason why you push him away, you just don't want to be that way with him, you don't want to have any feeling with him again.

a pouted form on his lips but he get up just like you told him to, he had a plan to have second round with you but maybe not now. he left to your bathroom and you sigh as you let your body fall back on the bed, "what about friends with benefits?"his voice lingering in your mind, you might actually consider his offer.

friend with benefits won't hurt you right?

should i make part 2?

#jakesim #enhypen hard hours #enhypen jake #enhypen jake smut #enhypen #jake smut #sim jaeyun #jaeyun x reader

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himezoro · 10 months ago

Text

love wins all (a roronoa zoro story, part 2) (smut)

tysm for your support on part 1 !! this story means a lot to me, i've had a lot of vision to write it etc. it's not proofread, and it's written by a tired lawyer who's been up for the past 15 hours because of a few cases. anyway, thanks for your support, and thank you for making my days so much more bearable. ilysm !! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

inspired by this song!!

@sanjisprincesswifey i know you liked the first part, so i'm dedicated it to you (i hope it doesn't suck lmao)

warning!! : nsfw (minor DNI), gender (female), mention of (Y/N), slight angst ? angry sex/cheating involved.

.・゜゜・ 1 hour before ・゜゜・．

Zoro’s years of superhuman training were a benefit here. His body was moving on its own, as fast as he could, barely paying attention to the people he was bumping into with his broad shoulders. Just like a race horse, he had blinkers preventing him from seeing the rejoice faces of the villagers preparing for the reception, dancing to the musicians’ plays on the streets and basically creating a path to the palace where the festivities were to take place.

These poor people don’t know what they’re talking about.

While he made his way closer to the palace, his mind was too busy thinking about the last words you two shared rather than thinking of an infiltration strategy. From the way your plumped lips traced thousands of “I love you” to the harsh “I hate you” they uttered when he took off, from the laughters they shared to the silent cry they failed to conceal. From the lewd sounds they let escape when his cock thrusted into your wet cunt, to the sensual moans they purred onto his lips.

For a second he felt his heart sink, and a weird feeling to his stomach. Was it anxiety because he was about to enter a restricted area? Mad, that you forgot about him so easily? Jealous, that another man, and a ridiculous one he thought, got to spend the rest of his life by your side? Sick, that a man that is not him, was to touch you in ways only he could?

He couldn’t pinpoint the right word for what he was feeling, and he frankly did not care. His goal was set, and it was to enter that palace and get to you. How would he achieve that was apparently not an important matter to him, because he just barged in, breaking through the guards with undiscovered strength, not giving a damn about the consequences.

I’m sorry guys, we’ll have some mess to clean up before tasting the banquet.

His ears almost failed to hear the guards crying for help and threatening to call the Marines, as he climbed all the stairs he found at once, his heart knowing that at the top, they led to you.

And it did.

.・゜゜・3 minutes left・゜゜・．

Zoro was facing a long corridor with a large room down the hall. The doors were slightly opened, as if he was awaited all along. Even though he knew he probably was not the person you wished to see, he still felt like the small light peering through the doors was a way to your heart. Like there was hope.

His pace slowed as he approached your doors, and his hand lingered on the door before slowly pushing it open, his good eye widening at the sight he was bestowed with.

There you were, in all your glory, your back facing the door as you looked at yourself in the huge mirror standing in front of you, gently trying out earrings that would complement your hairstyle of the day. The white dress you were wearing hugged your curves perfectly. The corset on top carved the shape of your waist, only for it to enhance the curves of your ass. The silk material left little to the imagination, and he could stay watching forever. He swore he could smell your perfume from here, already enamoring him much more. He could see the glistening of your skin as the so-short sleeves of your dress lovingly fell off your shoulders.

You were a mythology goddess. A legend, only for him to see.

And he had a chance to conquer.

・゜゜・00・゜゜・．

« So I guess my invitation got lost in the mail? » you heard the hoarse voice speaking through the opened door of your quarters. You kept on looking at yourself in the magnificent mirror standing in front of you, looking at how the white dress hugged your form, pretending not to have heard the said voice, ignoring the immediate chills it sent down your spine. You knew who these words belonged to, and so did your racing heartbeat.

You slowly reached down to the table by your side to pick another pair of earing to try out, letting Zoro enter as you calmly and sternly responded.

“The only thing that appears to have lost itself here, is you.”

Zoro scoffed as he fully entered your quarters, closing the door behind him as he stands, looking at you intently. Gosh, you were even more beautiful than in his memories. The way your hair fell so beautifully around your face. He missed your comebacks, your confidence, the way your brain seemed to understand his better than anyone else, better than he knew his own.

He slowly walked behind you, so close that you could feel his hot breath tickling the nape of your neck. He only looked at you through the mirror in front of you, feeling like, at some point, this would help him keep his façade. He bore his poker and stern face while taking in your presence.

Gosh, how he wanted to pin you to that mirror and kiss you until your lips turn bloody red from how much he would bite them.

“Looking great here. Nice big ring too.” he said, the hot breath of his lips tickling your ear.

It was hard for you to ignore how fast your heart was beating, and the tension between the two of you. It was electric, deep, high. You hated the effect he had on you, how he would always manage to have you wrapped around his finger. How he could make you kneel in front of him, happily opening your mouth to welcome his hot length. How he could make you melt from the simplest of words.

How he could break your facade, break your heart and confidence under a minute.

Your eyes met through the mirror, and that’s when you noticed his new scar. It hurt, knowing that you did not have the opportunity to mend his wounds and see his progress.

“I can’t say the same for you.” You lied, breaking the eye contact by focusing on removing the earrings you had just put on.

Zoro laughed, never looking away. He agreed: beside you, he looked like a picturesque character. You were the epitome of beauty, an ethereal image. If he were Sanji, he would have probably died on the spot.

Your eyes met again.

“You could have told me you were getting married. I had the right to-“

“How dare you?” you cut him mid-sentence, turning around to face him. His new built caught you off guard, but you didn’t let that stop you from finally, cutting the air.

“Zoro you better not finish that sentence. You have no right whatsoever to know a thing about my life. Not after what you did.” You explained, clear annoyance and a hint of hurt in your voice.

“Oh, is that how it is? How it’s going to be, (Y/N)? Of course you should have told me ! How dare you not tell me?” Zoro responded, mad, stubborn, scratched. “You can’t just get married, with this creep, and believe that I don’t have MY say in this? Or are you stupid?!” he continued, not noticing he started yelling.

You slightly pushed him away to get behind him, clearly needing the space. And he was surprised he let you push him, following your movements, wondering what your dress would feel like under his touch. He stared at your dress, your bosom and the way the corset enhanced the roundness of your boobs.

He wanted to eat them out right now and tear this corset apart.

“Oh you’re the stupid one here! Zoro you cannot expect me to tell you a thing about my love life, or anything about my life for that matter, when you walked away, in the middle of the night, saying your dream was more important, right after making love to me, and leaving to the sea without as much as a note?!” you stated, yelling the last words.

“It was not the right time for us and you know it! Come on, don’t act like I forced my decision on you. You know it was the best choice.”

“I beg your pardon?” you asked, walking closer to him, closing the distance between the two of you to state your thoughts loud and clear. You shook your head, gathering your thoughts after Zoro’s unreasonable rambling.

“Let me ask you. What do you call someone leaving in the middle of the night, saying how his dream is more important than the night he just spent with who he called to be the love of his life, while the later cried her heart out? Do you call that a consensual decision? A mature talk? Enlighten me, Roronoa Zoro. Please, enlighten me.”

Zoro just dived into your eyes at your words. Enlighten me. The words echoed in his ears, and for a couple of seconds his brain just stopped working. Noticing his lack of response, you sighed, trying to walk past him to finally put your veil on.

But this time, he did not let you past him.

Zoro grabbed your hips and looked into your eyes before diving in and kiss you. The taste of his lips surprised you, they seemed more mature, but still as soft as they were that night. With Zoro invading your space, it was hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to resist breaking the tension lingering after all these years. Before he could slide his tongue pass your lips, you pulled back, looking at him with half-lidded eyes, whispering, afraid the universe might hear you;

“What are you doing?”

“Enlightening you.” he whispered with a smirk, his breath tickling your lips.

And these words were enough to send all senses of hurt, bitterness and ache to hell. You let him kiss you, putting your hands on his arms as he kept a firm grip on your hips. He kissed you hard, feral. His tongue parted your lips, twirling around yours as he let out a deep groan. He has been waiting for this for years, and feeling your lips respond to his sent him to heaven. He could not help but let his hands glide to your ass and give it a light squeeze, making you yelp. Your reaction made him laugh, a small, intimate laugh only you could hear.

You slowly pulled away to catch your breath, and he took the opportunity to tell you what he really meant to say before rambling the selfish nonsense he let out.

“Don’t marry him. Come with me.” He whispered, his lips meeting the side of your neck, using his tongue to tickle the soft spots he never forgot: your submaxillary triangle, your trapezius.

“What are you talking about?” you responded, still a little out of breath, and mostly, distracted by his shenanigans.

“You got me baby, loud and clear.”

The dress started to bother him, and he took the opportunity to tear the bottom to the side, creating a slit on your left leg, taking advantage of it to massage your thighs and groping your ass once more, with more force and determination. He tapped your ass, a small gesture to wrap your legs around his waist as he pinned you to the mirror.

And when your legs tightened around his waist, he knew your answer.

And so he did not waste any time anymore. He massaged your breasts through the corset of your white dress, admiring how your boobs threatened to escape only for him to lick at your buds, cupping them in between his large hands. Your hands fell into his mossy green hair, slightly pulling on the ends as his tongue danced around your clavicles.

Being the skillful swordsman he is, and having experience with his mouth and hands, his left hand went under your dress, thanks to the slit he made, so he could play with your clothed cunt, feeling its wetness forming. There are so much things he wished to say at that moment, but the way his erection irritated his pants kept him from uttering the slightest of word. And knowing him like the back of your hand, you let out a small laugh.

“Are your pants too small to contain your little friend here?”

“If you call it little then I really should jog your memory.”

With that, he pushed you against the cold mirror surface a little harder so he could unzip his pants, letting his length sprung free against the white silk.

“Be careful, you might tarnish it you idiot!”

“Like you and I care.” he proudly stated, sliding his hand under your dress and pushing his index into your cunt, while rubbing circle on your clit. He never took his eyes off you, appreciating every little of your reactions, bearing your face into his memory.

“Gosh, I missed the feeling of your pussy around my fingers, you know that right?” he desperately uttered, feeling his already hard cock getting harder. “Gosh (Y/N), I missed everything about you.” he added, pumping harder, adding another finger into your pussy, your moans getting louder and lewder.

“And I missed the feeling of your cock, Zo’..” you whimpered, a dark light sparkling in his eye as he heard your plea.

“Well you won’t miss it anymore sweatheart.” he said, removing his fingers out of your cunt and pushing up your dress some more, so he could set your white lace panty aside and slide into you.

“Hmmpf!” you whimpered in extasy, the simple feeling of his cock stretching your tight cunt already answering your needs. He waited for you to adjust and looked at you, his eyes pleading for consent. Once you nodded and gave him a soft, intimate smile, Zoro started pounding into you at a feral pace. His nails dug into your thighs and ass as he held you tight, pumping his thick cock into your warmth. You threw your head back on the cold mirror surface as you tried to keep some sense into you, tears forming in your eyes from how passionate your partner was.

“G-Gosh (Y/N), you’re still taking me so well… completely m-made for me..” Zoro managed to say, as he could feel your pussy tightening around his shaft. This felt so real, so much better than in his memories.

“Please k-keep going!” you plead, only for him to hold you tighter, spanking your ass in the process.

“I’ll k-keep only if you answer my question.” He said, slowing his thrusts, going excruciatingly slow, torturing the both of you.

But he needed to know.

“Are you coming with me to the sea?”

He stared into your eyes for as long as he could, trying to determine what went on in your head.

“Zoro..”

He thrusted hard into you, looking at you again.

“Answer me.”

He thrusted harder, his eye never leaving your beautiful face.

“I..”

He thrusted harder, so hard you swore you could feel it in your guts.

“(Y/N). You love me. I love you. Come with me.”

“Y-Yes for God’s sake I’ll c-come with you!” you cried, only for him to smile in pride and thrust into you without anything as a break. He felt ecstatic and tried his best hiding his smile into your neck, giving it sloppy kisses before giving you one more passionate kiss as you both came together, your dress a total mess, both your bodies a sweaty mess, but a loving one at best.

He looked at you and saw the smile he waited to see for so long. He gently put your legs to the ground as he looked through his pocket.

“Don’t tell me you’re looking for a condom now that we’re just done” you muttered, earning an eye-roll from the swordman.

“I’m looking for the ring I got you, dumbass.” he bluntly stated, pulling the ring out of his pocket before putting it in your hands.

“Let me take off this ugly ass ring so I can give you mine.” He said and you let him have his way, gently laughing at his usual stubbornness. He slid his ring on your finger with a prideful and loving look, trying to conceal his blush by looking away.

“So, what’s the plan now Zo?” you asked, gazing into his good eye with more love than you thought ever existed.

“There’s none. We’ve got all the time in the world.” he responded, kissing your left hand before he heard a familiar ruckus down the hall, curtesy of his captain.

“I promise you’ll get used to it.” he shyly said as he held your hand tight, definitely not letting go, love wins all, after all.

#one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece imagine #one piece headcanon #opla x reader #one piece smut #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro smut #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x y/n #zoro roronoa x you

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