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wh1sp3rr · 2 years

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𑊡˚+₊📀✦ — alone again + multiple; one shot

cw: slight fluff, very slight angst, set in a dystopian environment & gn. reader

an: i highly highly recommend you listen to chamber of reflection by mac demarco on loop as you read this just for the immersion but besides that, enjoy reading <33

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

there was something so pleasant about the mere sight of him crying in front of you: because of you. an overwhelming and condescending feeling of superiority wavered over you, making you believe you had full control of the situation, that is until you realise his gaze, heavy, was now set upon your lips rather than the floor, glancing up to your eyes shamelessly.

his weakened sniffles were now warming into heaves and puffs till he utters out in the quietest of voices; “i want to kiss you, please let me.” the silence that follows the statement allows you to maintain your composure before his thumb indents into those same lips he was craving and your eyes lock, his filled with lust while yours the same.

these moments were your guilty pleasure, the knowingness between the two of you of what comes next invites all but the unknown sentiment of euphoria. you were needy for him, just as he was for you and nothing was making that change, for better or for worse.

both having the same desire, same want, same need, you kiss– so slowly that it seems you’re engulfing each other whole. his knuckles elegantly trace your jawline before grazing the cut he had given you earlier, “i’m sorry,” he breaths out, and you feel a teardrop stain your cheek, the dampness being rubbed away by [his name]’s fingertip.

your peers were never able to pinpoint your relationship. some called you enemies, some complicated, some strangers, neither of these were the correct term for whatever you had going on but while both of you understood it was wrong, there was something so addictive that made it feel so fucking right.

lyrics repeating the words; ‘alone again’ over and over only ignited the kiss, lips melding harmoniously and in tune with the bluesy melody. it was one of the few tracks that remained unscathed but had grown to become yours and his favourite. as soon as it began to play, that was the others’ cue to back off from the room because they knew, you knew, he knew, what it meant.

‘[y/n]’, he whines, ‘[y/n]’, this time needier than the last. you simply hum in response, his name running a thousand miles in your head as if it were the only thing you knew.

he breaks the kiss. forehead leaning its weight against yours, “you’ve gotten better,” he chuckles with a rosy flush, “and you worse.” he stares at you, your nose bridges connected, “yeah?” he wipes his thumb on the corner of your mouth holding the string of saliva, “you know damn well i haven’t,” he says firmly.

You pause, glance at his thumb, gaze never relaxing and kiss the tip ever so delicately, with the utmost precision as if a touch too heavy would shatter it entirely. He cowers a little but sweeps the hair on your forehead back, slick with sweat as if to prove to himself that he isn’t fazed when that was anything but true.

He brushes himself off, fixes the hair that you instinctually clawed at and asks “How do I look?” before he poses jokingly.

“Just the way I like,” you say, dragging out the final syllable of each word. He rolls his eyes, a common gesture when it comes to him, but then he turns his back and the heavy displeasure in your heart maximises making your movements sluggish and irritated.

You’ll be in front of other people now, you can’t let them know and though they’re suspecting, what with [his name]’s overprotective trait manifesting through arms over shoulders and hands on your waist, there’s still a strong uncertainty within them.

You still long for commitment, unconditionality and cherish however, something that you wish your partner wasn’t afraid of just because of past experiences and core beliefs.

He wipes his sleeve through his nose, the sticky glisten grossing you out. “Ew,” you say meaning for it to be a thought.

He gives you a smile, the one where he’s either about to playfully tease you, or caress you so lovingly.

Your speculations are confirmed with the first option when he starts chasing you with his mucus-covered sleeve, “Dickhead, stop!” you laugh out, not necessarily pleasantly since you were still wary of said sleeve.

“You’re gonna have to run faster, little [girl/boy/one].” You find a safe spot in the corner of his bed, backing up further and further when his walk becomes slower and deeper with anticipation.

The bed’s broken ridges are played with by your fingers, the feeling of randomised patches sewn in is noticeable with every new texture just as familiar as the last.

This bed carries a lot of memories, some undiscovered and some well remembered, it was also where you spent the first night sleeping after the apocalypse had just hit. No amount of description will ever do justice to the unhinged fear you felt that is still carried by you at night when the atmosphere is unrestrained with solitude and danger.

“Fuck!” His snot has now become a part of your attire. He lets out a hearty laugh only to be cut short when you spit on your hand and wipe it on his chest. “Two can play at that game,” you say, conspicuous smugness marked on your face. “Smartass…” he mumbles with a smile still present from his laugh.

A tinge of guilt stings your heart, noticing the slight pink hue of his eyes, worsening when you acknowledge you are the fault for this.

You can’t think of anything to do to comfort him only your body acts on its own when it decides to cup his face with your calloused hands, thumbs wiping away the physical sadness still evident on his face.

He flinches of course, [his name] wasn’t always the biggest fan of physical touch but God knows he needs it, arguably more than you. Be that as it may, a weight is lifted off your chest to the softening of his expression, you’re glad you’re the fault for this.

His face turns to the window but you gently bring it to face you. Eye contact was not uncommon between you two yet it usually resulted in either one of you crying, yelling in a fit of rage or simply just hurting the other one; physically, emotionally, or a combination of the two.

This time was different though, it felt different. The track even remarkably kept playing after its second loop instead of going haywire and killing the mood.

For no exact reason, you lean forward, uncaring about the wetness your spit left on his shirt or the now drying mucus on his forearm.

To your surprise, he adjusts his position, making you lay down instead of lean uncomfortably. The symphony you were hearing was now no longer the music but his constant, slightly alleviated heartbeat.

Your thoughts get cut short when you feel light, benign vibrations against his chest and soon the atmosphere becomes heavy with yearning.

He’s humming along to the tune.

Your eyes widen, making the highlights in them grow. He’s never done that before, and you think this again when he croaks out the lyrics in a rasp several octaves lower than usual.

“No use looking out, it’s within that brings that lonely feeling.”

He stops singing but continues his mellow hum when you reach your hand up to his neck. He’s looking right at you now yet his stare isn’t filled with lust, or anguish or blind rage but genuine tenderness.

A smile creeps onto your face making your eyes squint and teeth show; “I like this side of you,” you whisper.

“Mhm?” he hums, “Mhm,” and with that, his eyes shut and his movements slow as you engage in yet another kiss, this one more intimate than the last.

His jawline is pleasantly acquainted with your lips as you reach his ear and murmur, “You’re so cute.”

He sighs and begins rubbing circles on your spine; “Now you know how I feel…” trailing off.

You harshly smooch his neck, a pop leaving your lips and somewhat echoing.

“Yeah,” you state, “I do.” If you were wearing lipstick, his skin would have a deepening rosy mark in the shape of your lips.

“Heyyy…” he says bashfully with warming cheeks & an amplified heartbeat.

You ignore this and repeat said action, this time softer and with a smile.

He lets out a chuckle whilst shaking his head and brings his hand up to rest in your hair, occasionally playing with the curls and making them bounce while you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, eventually falling into a tranquil slumber.

JASON TODD, bakugo, iwaizumi, TWDG MITCH, josuke, KYOTANI

#whispers fairytales ౨ৎ #wh1sp3rr #jason todd x reader #bakugo x reader #twdg mitch #twdg mitch x reader #kyotani x reader #mad dog x reader #josuke x reader #jason todd x y/n #bakugo x y/n #kyotani x y/n #mad dog x y/n #josuke x y/n #iwaizumi x reader #iwazumi x y/n

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hendolish · 8 months

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back again!! any hendolish fluff when the other notices they’re having a bad day with no one else really noticing and gives them a hug!! my weakness is actually fluff.

jack grealish/jordan henderson | making a bad day better ♡

“Hey.”

Jordan says softly as though not to scare Jack as he speeds up to walk alongside him in between drills, “You okay?”

“Hmm?” Jack takes a moment to reply, as if his mind has wondered away elsewhere, then he seems to blink himself back onto the pitch, his smile only half-filling his face.

“I’m fine,“ He tells Jordan rather unconvincingly, going on when he raises a doubtful eyebrow at him with a laugh, “Don’t worry about it.”

That’s better.

Jordan thinks as he allows the joyful sound to wash over him, but as he watches Jack run ahead of him to start the drill again he knows something’s still not quite right.

He doesn’t manage to catch him again until the end of training, purposely walking slowly back towards the locker room as to allow Jack to catch up. When Trent notices what he’s doing, he just gives him a knowing grin and a pat on the shoulder before speeding off to catch up with Jude and the others.

“Alright?” He greets as Jack reaches him, having trailed behind after helping Steve collect some of the equipment they’d been using.

Jack offers a smile at him, almost as if he hadn’t realised Jordan was there, as they fall into step walking side by side, but it’s still weak and makes Jordan’s heart clench.

“Yeah. It’s just freezin’ innit?”

Nodding as he agrees, Jordan clutches his hands to his chest, glad he had remembered his gloves and extra layers today. Glancing over to the younger, Jordan soon notices Jack’s hands are bare and near-white where they’re bitten with cold. He hurries them through the last paces back inside then.

Jordan rips his own gloves off as he feels the warmth of SGP envelop him and immediately begins to feel the blood rushing back to his fingertips. When his senses have returned, he’s quick to grab onto one of Jack’s hands and is shocked to find it almost painfully cold to touch.

“Fuck.”

He mutters under his breath as his eyes dart across Jack’s face in concern, wondering how the younger can possibly look so fine.

“Uh, I can’t really feel ‘em at the moment so…”

“Here.” Jordan decides immediately, needing to do something about this so desperately as he grabs a hold of Jack’s other hand and slips both under his jumper to press against the warm skin at his sides.

The cold sensation makes him jump and his abs tense, but Jordan decides it’s all worth it when Jack seems to visibly relax. And when Jordan finally lets the younger’s hands go they stay exactly where they are, pressed up against Jordan’s skin, until they’re curling around his waist to find the heat in his lower back.

Jack’s closer now, smiling up at him with his teeth and his perfect hair spilling over his headband. Then he plants a kiss to Jordan’s lips that helps restore his warmth even further.

“Thank you.” He says softly, hands still curling against Jordan’s skin and making him grin like an idiot.

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metagalacticx · 2 years

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scira au: they meet on a cruise 🌊💕🛥🌸 [1/2]

“Sorry, sorry! Really sorry. Here—”

Kira looks up, and the guy winces, his free hand frantically brushing cake crumbs from the side of her skirt.

She was so close— the tray hovering over the table, legs positioned perfectly to slide into her seat— when she felt the entire weight of a person twice her size crash into her, and now what should have been her dinner is splattered everywhere. At first she felt a stab of panic— an iceberg? freak storm? maybe a hole in the hull— but everything else was stationary.

“Hey, I can— I can fix that,” the guy says about the mess on the waxed floor. Then he flashes a finger, “Wait, just— hold on!”

Kira tries to smile.

She’d decided to embark on this three-week cruise for self-care reasons. To focus only on her needs; decentering everything she’s carved her identity around for most of her life— family, friends, her job. To give herself a little space and time to figure out what she really wants, not what she thinks other people want for her.

But it’s been three hours since she got on the Hale of a Whale and in that time she’s bruised her leg from bumping into her cabin dresser, and got two plates of buffet food spilled over her favourite pleated skirt. None of it is wet, which she supposes is a blessing. She’s choosing to ignore the pizza stain on the tongue of her Jordans. It’s not there, it’s not there.

The guy’s talking to one of the servers, and his face crumples as they must tell him they’re out of whatever it is he thinks can fix this.

“Sorry, they… they can’t come right now. But someone’s coming! I’ll make sure it gets cleaned up, I promise!”

“Yeah,” Kira mumbles. She just wants to go back to her room and wallow. She’s loath to admit it but she wishes her Dad were here. “That’s all right. I’ll just… yeah.”

“I’m so sorry!”

He looks crestfallen, and Kira feels kind of bad. Sure, he’s made a mess and somehow none of his food spilled. But she thinks of her Mom and how she never allows Kira to apologise more than once. It doesn’t really fix anything, does it? I can tell you’re sorry. No need to dwell.

So Kira sighs, sags her shoulders and smiles for real this time. “Don’t worry about it. I can just go back. We’ve got all the time in the world here, right?”

That gets him to smile. It’s warm and definitely more at home on his face than the guilt and panic.

He’s sheepish when he says, “Yeah, we kind of do...”

Kira does it all again— chooses a little bit of everything, even adds an extra slice of pizza for comfort— and it’s not so bad. Until she’s looking around for another table and not one of them is free.

Then she sees him. He’s perched at the edge of his seat, twisted in the chair to look over at her, legs spread like he’s about to walk. He waves, and his smile brightens when she lifts her chin.

He mouths something, slow— hands gesticulating haltingly, like he’s not quite sure he means to do it. She can’t tell what he’s saying but he points to his table and himself enough times for her to get the gist.

“Hey…” she says, like she’s begging him a favour and not at all like he’s lucky she’s not standing in a corner waiting for someone to clean her perfect table with the perfect view and the perfect distance away from the family with the three noisy kids.

He stands until she slides into the seat facing him. “Sorry again.”

“No... Thanks for letting me sit here.”

“It’s my pleasure, really! I’d give it up if you asked.”

Kira looks up slowly from her slice of cake, “Well—”

“But,” he hurries before she can finish, “I’m glad you chose to sit with me.”

There’s a lilt in her voice when she says, “Didn’t really have a choice. You kind of took the last one.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry…”

And he doesn’t look it, either. He’s grinning. “I’m really not.”

His eyes crinkle and he keeps staring, making no attempt to touch his plate. She would call him out on it but she realises she’s staring too.

“So you’re saying you’re glad you knocked all my food to the ground.”

The glass in his hand clinks when he lowers it to the table. “I’m saying I might have noticed you earlier and while I didn’t mean to bump into you like that, I’m glad it turned out this way because now I can ask for your name and maybe we can hang out sometime? You know, since we have all the time in the world here…”

She thinks she wants to tell him he won’t be seeing much of her, that she’ll be busy doing yoga and going to the shows and getting wisps of ocean water and salt in her hair. But he’s still smiling, and it’s bright, and somehow… somehow it doesn’t feel wrong. So she tucks falling strands behind her ear and looks down at the second helping of cruise ship food. “It’s Kira.”

“Kira… I've got a friend named Kira.”

“Really?”

“Well, not yet. But I’m hoping by the time I leave here I will.”

Her mouth falls open and a laugh bubbles in her chest and rises in sweet waves past her lips. “Oh, that’s smooth. Where’d you learn that one?”

“Work. Wait, no— that one wasn’t Hayden. Stiles. Anyway, I’m Scott. Sorry for getting food all over you.”

“Well, Scott. You’re lucky there was no empty table left.”

“Trust me, I know.”

Scott sticks a fork into the sushi, and somehow manages to make it cute.

He’s also still grinning.

Kira’s lips curl and she pops a fry into her mouth. She has three weeks left to bask in the sun and breathe in crisp ocean air. Three weeks to find herself again. She supposes there’s nothing wrong if she makes a friend.

#i’m literally just going to copy and paste the tags from before i do not care sorry #scira #scira moodboard #i have never made scott or kira content before. neither individually nor as a ship.#which if you know anything about my teen wolf feelings will definitely come as a surprise???#i would like to thank two specific people #firstly #unspokenstydia #for the scira suggestion!#and spike!! <33 who informed me about what cats look like because i had never seen one ever before in my life #kira my lil meow meow #snot mccalal my beloved #i am scared but mostly good scared #anyway they’re cute less than three #twgs #ficx #only adding one extra tag to say tumblr hates me personally.

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harrowianthe · 2 years

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a southern drawl, a world unseen (chap 2) | a critical role fanfic

the sequel to this. basically pre-stream imodna smut. rating: E. (im sorry, reposting bc it doesnt show up in the tags).

also on ao3!

They run home in a hurry; by the time they get there, they’re both soaking wet.

Laudna is absolutely miserable. She’s muttering something about her scissors rusting while she tries to dry off Pâté with her skirt (the skirt is also drenched, so it’s not much help). Imogen hasn’t said a word, yet; she’s just looking at the way Laudna’s wet clothes adhere to her body. One part of her, the part that’s like everybody else, thinks she could look scary like this, a walking skeleton; the other wants to gently part the black hair that’s sticking to the nape of Laudna’s neck and place a kiss to her cold, wet skin, lap down her jutting spine and discover if she can still shiver.

Laudna sets Pâté down on the table and starts patting him down with the tablecloth. Imogen will have to change it.

“Laudna, honey, he will dry off by himself. Let’s get you a warm bath.”

Laudna, still hunched over the table, twists her neck to look at Imogen over her shoulder, one single dark eye staring her down. There are still little specks of black under her eyes, where the rain couldn’t wash it off completely.

There’s something suspended between them, Imogen realises. It’s in the intensity of Laudna’s stare; it’s in her heart missing a beat and blood rushing to her face; it’s in the frazzled edges of Laudna’s mind, her spiky static ebbing at the brink of Imogen’s powers. Laudna is holding back, Imogen can feel it now. What is she hiding?

“You can go first, Imogen,” she says, definitely too cheerful. “I’m dead, anyway.”

Maybe it’s because Imogen loves Laudna, maybe it’s because she’s too selfish to allow her only friend to give her the cold shoulder, maybe it’s because she’s realised she can still taste Laudna’s in her mouth, if she licks the backs of her molars very carefully, but Imogen gives in to the pull in her chest. She circles Laudna’s slight body with her arms, rests her cheek between her sharp shoulder blades. Her hands find Laudna’s hips, stay there.

I’m sorry if I made you… uncomfortable, she projects, unsure.

Laudna is breathing again. Imogen’s own body follows the movement. In and out. In and out.

You didn’t make me uncomfortable. Laudna huffs in her mind, after a moment. She’s… incredulous? You made me – the next words come out all jumbled together – aliveexcitedhorny.

Imogen blinks. Her eyelashes drag on Laudna’s back. “Horny?”

Laudna turns around, still in Imogen’s arms.

Imogen’s breath hitches in her throat as Laudna looks down on her, wet hair sticking all over the place. Has Imogen ever fully realised how tall Laudna is? She has to tilt her head up to meet her eyes. It forces her to expose her throat. The sensation is thrilling. What is even more thrilling, is that Laudna is crying her black tears, again, and her eyes are big, like the wolf in the fairy tale. Imogen wants to be swallowed whole.

Laudna’s wiry fingers slowly go up to caress her face, brow bone to jaw. They feel rigid and sharp. Sharper. Imogen has to stifle back a whine when she realises Laudna’s fingers are runny with ichor as well, that Laudna is methodically painting Imogen’s skin with the back of her talons. She can smell it, too, sweet and sour and tart. She leans into Laudna’s touch, against claws that would never harm her, and closes her eyes. Laudna’s mind is playing a low, pulsing drone that makes Imogen’s ears ring. It matches the radiating heat she can feel in her lower abdomen, a hot coil of want and need and desire that the rain didn’t manage to put out completely.

They stay like that for a while. Waiting.

“Is this what you want?” Laudna asks. It’s barely a whisper in the dark room.

When Imogen opens her eyes, this what she sees: Laudna’s cheeks are streaked with black, and it brings out the loveliness of her complexion; her eyes are huge and blown and inhuman and yet, underneath the deepest darkness, shines a spark of fondness and devotion so bright Imogen can’t help but stand on her toes and put her lips to Laudna’s.

Laudna howls in the back of her throat. Her hand, the one that was marking Imogen’s skin, immediately finds its way to her neck, gets ride of her yellow scarf, tangles itself in purple hair. Laudna is all bone and no muscle, but Imogen puts no resistance, lets herself be pulled closer as Laudna’s claws scratch her scalp with urgency. Their wet clothes stick together. Laudna’s cold tongue is pressing against her teeth and Imogen gives in, opens up her mouth with a moan and, Gods, Laudna’s other hand travels from the small of her back to her ass, and Laudna makes another ghoulish sound, a loud growl, deep from within her belly; Imogen’s entire body shakes.

“My girl, my beautiful girl, my darling girl,” Laudna sobs into her mouth; and then travels down with her lips, leaves goose bumps in her wake and (Imogen throws her head back, gives her space, gives her everything), finds the spot where her neck meets her shoulder and bites, hard, into tender flesh.

Imogen’s barriers shake and collapse all over themselves.

Please, please, please, Imogen chants in their minds, drunk on arousal, while Laudna, her mouth wet and warm from the heat of Imogen’s skin, keeps sucking and biting and kissing. Please, please, please, I want – I need – Let me.

Laudna slows down, all at once like it’s the only way she’ll manage to do it. She’s hunched over Imogen, now. If she wanted, she could envelop Imogen’s body completely with her own, leave nothing of her to the outside world.

Take everything. Everything you need. Laudna projects, panting hot and heavy on her neck, like a beast on a hunt.

Imogen flares up. She reverently takes one of Laudna’s hands to her lips, kisses the centre of her palm, pulls her to their bed. Laudna, tall and shaking and covered in black ichor and almost a monster, lets herself be guided, sits on the bed and looks at Imogen from below with dark, unblinking eyes. She looks like the most docile of beasts, still and panting and looking, and yet there’s a predatory twitch in her hands, ready to pounce. If Imogen didn’t have plans of her own, if the thought of tasting Laudna hadn’t been eating her alive for the last week or so…

“How beautiful you are,” comes out of Imogen’s mouth of its own volition, and, guided by hunger and desire, she takes her place on her knees between Laudna’s spread legs. It makes her wetter. Laudna releases a needy sound with her throat and immediately claws at Imogen’s shoulders to pull her closer. She tears her clothes and leaves delicious, burning lines on her skin. Imogen gives in, puts her mouth to Laudna’s pulse point – beating again – and lets her hands hover on Laudna’s small breasts, still covered by her soaked dress.

Can I… she projects into Laudna’s mind.

Laudna’s hands become more forceful, tangling themselves into her hair. Yes, yes, devour me.

It goes straight to Imogen’s core, and she brings her legs together, looking for some kind of relief. With no more hesitation, Imogen pulls at Laudna’s dress, uncovers her chest. Laudna’s skin shines in the dim light. Unable to stop herself, she traces Laudna’s sternum with her tongue, tasting her black ichor again. She could swear she feels Laudna’s heartbeat underneath, wild and irregular. She leaves a kiss on Laudna’s left breast, lips just brushing her dark nipple. Laudna’s chanting nonsense in her mind (yes, Imogen, yes, please, take, Imogen, yes) and it spurs her on, she takes her nipple in her mouth and Laudna buckles underneath her, her bony thighs clasping around her torso and her hands pulling her head close.

Every single nerve on Imogen’s skin feels alight with electricity. Her hands move to caress Laudna’s shaky thighs, find their way underneath her skirt. She holds onto her hips, feeling the way her bones jut out and stretch her skin taut.

Imogen, darling, please.

“Please, what?” Imogen asks, knowing the answer, but wanting Laudna to say it, needing Laudna to say it.

“Devour,” is all that Laudna says, her voice hoarse, her eyes blown and indistinguishable from her black tears, her mouth hanging open. Please, she adds with her mind, and it has such a desperate note to it that Imogen just can’t wait any further: she makes quick work of Laudna’s skirt and undergarments and – slowly, devotedly – puts her mouth to Laudna’s chore, black, soft and inviting. Laudna’s thighs shake around Imogen’s ears. Like this, all she can hear is Laudna’s mind music buzzing wildly and her howling moans. It’s heaven. One of Laudna’s spindly hands finds her scalp and Imogen thinks about riding Laudna’s fingers, black and long, as she eats her out. She moans as her tongue runs through Laudna’s folds and then Imogen brings her hand to her own pulsating centre – she’s so wet two of her fingers slide in easily and she ruts against them on the floor. Her mind is wide open: Laudna can feel what’s happening and their mixed pleasure reverberates like a shock in her body, making Laudna’s hips shake more and more and more until Imogen can’t take it anymore, succumbs to her own orgasm as her lips close around Laudna’s clit. Laudna’s voice is hoarse when she screams.

Their bodies remain locked together for long moments.

Imogen’s mind retracts slowly into her own head, perfectly empty.

She sneezes. She would laugh if her body didn’t feel so floaty.

“Oh, Imogen.” Laudna says above her and lifts her up by her shoulders.

Without a word, Imogen lets herself be undressed (her clothes are smeared black and mangled – she watches them go with a hint of sadness). “I’m sorry darling, I let you get cold.” Laudna says at one point.

Imogen slowly blinks sense back into herself and finally looks at Laudna. She’s watching Imogen anxiously, not unlike the day when she had transformed and had been so worried Imogen would run away.

Oh.

Imogen laughs and pulls her in for a kiss. “Keep me warm tonight, will ya?” she breathes on Laudna’s lips as they part.

“But I’m a lizard.”

“I’ll warm you up, then.”

Laudna doesn’t look too convinced by this, but Imogen kisses her again.

“Alright.”

#imodna #imogen temult #critical role #laudna x imogen #southerngothic #bell's hells #my fics #nsfw//

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slasherhaven · 3 years

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slasher forehead kisses and/or braiding their hair!! (2nd one goes 4 slashers w long hair skendk)

The Slashers and Forehead Kisses (and Hair Braiding):

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas’ heart melts whenever you take his face in your hands and press a kiss to his forehead.

You kiss his forehead and temples a lot since they’re parts of his face that his mask doesn’t cover.

He just thinks the gesture is so soft. Especially when he hasn’t started removing his mask around you, it’s like you’re at least showing affection to the parts of him that he does allow you to see. It just makes him smile.

If Luda May ever catches one of you giving the other a little forehead kiss, she will absolutely gush about it. As is her right to do so.

Tommy has pretty long hair, definitely a good length for a few little braids. And if you ask, he will definitely let you braid it. Sitting on the floor between your legs as you sit on the bed behind him, happily playing with his hair.

Michael Myers

You have managed to give Michael a forehead kiss or two but it’s quite the challenge. He’s much taller than you so you can’t really do it when he’s standing and you doubted he would allow the act of affection most of the time.

But once you started to feel more comfortable around him, you started to make moves in showing affection.

The first few times you kiss his forehead, the top of his head, or his masked face at all, it confuses Michael and you receive a curious stare. He slowly becomes used to it and stops reacting to it much at all.

Remember, if Michael isn’t stopping you, he probably doesn’t mind and might even like it.

His equivalent to a kiss on the forehead is a pat on the head. We take what we can get.

Obviously not all versions of Michael have long hair so this only applies to the ones that do.

While the idea of braiding Michael’s hair puts a smile on your face, you’re cautious about it because, well...it’s Michael.

He’s not great at caring for his hair in general so eventually he starts to let you detangle it for him, always watching you carefully.

How you managed to tame Michael Myers enough to have him sit still while you got carried away and started braiding his hair it a miracle.

Jason Voorhees

Of course Jason loves forehead kisses! They’re so sweet, why wouldn’t he love them?

You gave him little forehead kisses to his mask from time to time before you were even dating, and they would always make him smile and blush.

They would just become a common little act of affection between the two of you.

Finally, when Jason removes the mask around you, he can begin properly returning the tender little kisses.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms loves forehead kisses, or kisses of any form.

You’ll often press a gentle kiss to the forehead of his mask or the top of his head when he was sitting down and you were just walking past him.

You can’t really kiss his forehead when he’s standing up since he’s just so tall.

He can’t help but smile when he rests his head against your shoulder and you kiss his forehead affectionately.

Before he takes the mask off around you, he gives you a few forehead kisses as well. Since he can’t actually kiss you, he’ll touch the lips of his mask to your forehead in his soft, tender moments.

Bo Sinclair

Bo isn’t normally the easiest person to give a forehead kiss too but you do so when he’s tired, when he’s falling asleep beside you.

He never really comments on it and if he did, he would probably scoff, complain, or tease. He’s just not used to gentleness and love like this, so he avoids addressing it as much as he can.

He also isn’t one to give you a sweet forehead kiss but he does it occasionally.

Normally when you’ve argued or he’s been in a bad mood and snapped at you. Later on, probably while you’re already in bed, he’ll silently join you and press a kiss to your forehead, his version of an apology. He’ll know that you forgive him when you shift closer to his side before settling down again.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent loves forehead kisses, he just thinks they’re really sweet and tender.

When you press a kiss to his forehead, whether he’s wearing the mask or not, it just makes him feel loved and cared about.

He also likes to kiss your forehead from time to him, just leaning down and quickly pressing a kiss (or the mouth of his mask) to your forehead to express some affection.

Will often kiss the top of your head when you fall asleep against him, just smiling to himself.

Absolutely would let you braid his hair without complaint. He actually appreciates when you do it before he starts working with wax because it prevents him from getting wax in his hair. It’s just practical.

But even if you’re just sitting around, enjoying a moment of peace, he will happily relax and let you play with and braid his hair.

Lester Sinclair

Lester loves cute little acts of affections like forehead kisses, cheek kisses, or nose kisses.

And you give them to each other all the time.

After a long day, the two of you will be sitting together, Lester’s head on your shoulder. And he just can’t help but smile when you press a little kiss to his forehead.

When you fall asleep and Lester is just overcome with love for you, he doesn’t want to wake you and so just leans over and presses a light kiss to your forehead.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba loves face kisses of any kind, he’s more likely to plant various kisses over your face than just one on your forehead.

You often kiss his forehead when he’s sad or having a bad day, it’s a sweet little gesture to remind him that you’re there for him.

You don’t even think about it but it comforts him and makes him smile.

He’ll give you a little forehead kiss every now and again, giving you a joyful smile afterwards.

Billy Lenz

You kiss Billy’s forehead all the time and he loves it.

He loves any sort of affection like that. When you kiss his forehead, his cheek, the top of his head, when you hold him and play with his hair, letting him rest his head against your chest.

He always smiles and cuddles closer when you’re holding him, his head on your chest, and you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead.

He kisses your forehead when you’re asleep. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, he’ll kiss your forehead before settling back down. If he’s joining you in bed later, he will crawl into bed with you, kissing your forehead before laying down and falling asleep.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

While Asa isn’t one for ‘cute’ or ‘gentle’ acts of affection, he does actually give his fair share of forehead kisses, it’s just in his own way.

They’re almost like a reward from Asa, he knows how to use praise and affection the exact way you desire.

Each forehead kiss is a silent ‘good girl/boy’, and it always makes you smile.

(NSFW) A gentle, reassuring kiss to your forehead after a rough session with Asa always makes you melt. And at the same time, it grounds you and comforts you.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Jesse is a tall man so you’re not going to easily plant a kiss on his forehead but he can do so to you with ease, and he does. You get your fair share of forehead kisses from Jesse.

He will normally kiss your forehead after he’s fondly teased you about something, as if making it up to you. Because how can you be mad at him when he’s being so sweet?

You give Jesse most of his forehead kisses when he’s working (the less murder-y side of his work), because he’s sitting down and you can actually reach...

You’ll affectionately kiss his forehead before letting him continue to work.

Depending on his mood, he will just smile and let you leave, or he will grab you and pull you down onto his lap.

Otis Driftwood

Otis finds forehead kisses surprisingly...tender, and he isn’t too sure how he feels about that.

He would never stop you from doing it but it’s just so damn soft.

In the end, he doesn’t see the point of them. If you’re going to kiss him, you better do it like you mean it, and will often grab you to pull you back for a real kiss before releasing you again.

Braiding Otis’ hair?...he doesn’t like it.

He will mutter and complain the whole time you’re braiding his hair, but he isn’t going to stop you. He will continue to tell you how much he hates it and how stupid this is, but still allows you to do it...

You have him wrapped around your finger more than either of you realise.

Baby Firefly

Baby is all for forehead kisses, any kisses really.

They’re normally more playful than tender but she has her calmer moments where kisses are more gentle and tender.

She more likely to kiss you on the cheek or even nose rather than forehead, but she thinks it’s sweet when you kiss hers.

Of course Baby will let you braid her hair, as long as she can do your hair in return.

Yautja (Predator)

Look at that forehead! So much room for forehead kisses!

And he loves them. It’s just so...human, just so you.

He just gets all happy whenever you plant a kiss on him, taking his face into your hands and pressing a kiss to the top of his head with a smile on your face.

He thinks you’re adorable.

Will probably let out a little affectionate purr when you do so.

2K notes · View notes

dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

Potent

Alpha! Hanta Sero x Fem! Omega! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18 please vacate the premises.

Warnings: A/B/O, smut, knotting, marking, breeding kink (sorta? idk it comes with the A/B/O territory), a hint of pregnancy kink, a bit of blood

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author's Note: Ohhhhkaayyy so this has been sitting in my google doc for AGES. I think I started this in...October of last year? It's been sitting there for months and I've lacked the motivation to finish and post it but then I sent in an anon ask to @reinawritesbnha and, being the absolute queen she is, she became the little push I needed to do it. I DID IT FOR REINA!!

Also, this is some of my earliest writing and I only skimmed and edited a little bit of it so if there's a little bit of weird pacing or a strange cutoff where the writing styles clash it's because I haven't touched this piece in months.

Anywho, enjoy~

It had to happen when you were surrounded by alphas.

Your suppressants flaked out, again, and your scent wafted through the air on the street. Normally It’d be fine for an omega to let their scent float freely around them. But your scent is particularly...potent, even when you weren’t in heat. Not only that, but you weren’t mated yet, your scent glands still bare, and you still didn’t have a pack. To make matters worse, you’re quirkless.

You hadn’t realised what was happening until your path was blocked by an especially large male alpha. You turned around, and there were two more behind you. Fuck. This isn’t good. You took in your surroundings and searched for an exit, but you couldn’t find a way out. There's no way you’d be able to outrun the three very large male alphas.

Probably the worst part is that more alphas are turning their head toward you, taking notice of your lavender honey and rain scent that slowly began turning to a sour swamp. You dared to hope that change would ward off the three cornering you, but they’d already got a whiff of you. Several distressed chirps sounded from your chest, voicing your discomfort, and you glared pointedly at the three alphas as they edged closer to you.

You hate when this happened. Why’d you have to be cursed like this? Your growls only grew, baring your little omega fangs. There’s no way in hell you’d let some stranger scent you, let alone one of these creeps. They wouldn’t take the damn hint and just crept closer to you, calling out to the ‘pretty little omega’ to ‘come have some fun’.

You’re scared now, the involuntary chirps in your chest coming more frequently. None of the other alphas or betas on the street were big enough to face the three, making you a sitting duck and a ragdoll if they wanted you to be. Your claws are small, nowhere near ideal for this situation, but you’d use them if you needed to. With a final low defiant growl you dropped your bag against the wall behind you and readied yourself for a fight.

Suddenly a large body dropped in front of you, his back to you. His scent alone hit you like a freight train, orange zest, mint, tree bark and something earthy. It had your head spinning, nearly sending you into an early heat. He growled, low and powerful, the sound rattling in your chest and making you sink further into the wall behind you. The other three alpha’s scents together were still overpowered by the new alpha before you, and they vanished faster than they appeared.

He turned around and stepped away from you, giving you space to breathe. He kneeled down enough so he was eye level with you, his hands reaching out clearly in an attempt to comfort you, but kept from touching you.

“Are you okay?” The question barely registered, still delirious from his scent, and you’re having a hard time recovering. Large hands grip your shoulders and shake you lightly, your mind beginning to clear with the soothing pheromones he’s releasing.

“Omega.” The command snapped you to attention, your gaze fixated on his own dark irises.

“Are you okay, omega?” You blink, swallow down the lump in your throat, take a deep breath.

“Yeah...I’m okay. Thank you, alpha.” But you’re not quite okay. You need to get home. Fast. The alpha seemed to catch on, probably by your scent that still hadn’t returned to normal. He stands and slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and wrapping you in his scent. It’s a comforting gesture.

“Let’s get you home.” With a nod you set off, the man walking next to you with a strong, warm hand on the middle of your back.

“What’s your name?” You introduce yourself, and he does the same. His name is Sero Hanta, and now that you’re calm again, you take in just how handsome he is.

Raven hair is pulled back into a small bun, showing off his undercut and strong, sharp jawline. Onyx eyes shine with kindness and playful mischief, and a beaming grin reveals pearly white teeth. He’s incredibly toned, his muscles calmly rippling under the t-shirt that stretched over his chest. You vaguely noticed the strange shape of his elbows, but disregarded it as his quirk. The omega in you is howling, begging for this alpha, his scent invading your senses. But you suppress it quickly, reminding yourself you’d only just met this man.

As you reach your apartment you exchange phone numbers, and he tells you to keep the jacket and use it when you go out to ward off any unwanted attention. You thank him again for helping you earlier, and he waves to you as he walks down the hall and enters the elevator, the doors closing in front of his handsome smiling face.

Despite meeting him only ten minutes earlier your instincts trust the alpha, and you hold the jacket close to your face, breathing in his scent. It’s wonderful, and your inner omega is in love. You find yourself wondering when you’d see him again.

The next few days are riddled with work and calls to your doctor about the strength of your suppressants. You work from home as a secretary for a small company. It’s a miracle you’d found it, too. Nobody wants an omega, let alone a potent one. It’s an alpha’s world, you guess. When this job opening popped up you were ecstatic, so you took it and have been working from home with decent pay for the last five years.

The calls to your doctor were not going as smoothly as your job, though. You leave a message every four hours until she finally calls you back. She was concerned since the suppressants she’d prescribed are the strongest out there, and if your scent was overpowering them they were either defective or your scent glands were overproducing. It wasn’t an immediate threat to your health, it only meant you’d be drawing more attention than you wanted to. Still, it’s annoying and makes life so much harder than it needs to be.

After she prescribed twice the amount, she said she’d look over your tests from the latest visit before she hung up the phone. You groaned once the call ended. You seriously needed a break from your second gender. Taking the prescribed double dose of suppressants, you got ready to go out to the corner cafe to read and drink coffee. Hopefully the new amount will keep steady. You really don’t want to deal with any more aggressive alphas this week. For good measure you pull on Sero’s jacket, allowing his scent to cover you, then grab your keys, phone, wallet and a book and begin the walk.

When you arrive at the cafe you order a hot mocha, curl into the small corner booth and crack open the book. You got lost in the ink and your mind floated along the adventure, putting yourself in the shoes of the main character and leading the mission to take down the corrupt queen who’d framed you for killing the prince of a neighboring kingdom. You were ripped from the fantasy world when a bright, enthusiastic blonde came up and tapped you on the shoulder, making you jump. His smile was as bright as his hair.

“Sorry to scare you cutie, but I couldn’t help but notice that jacket of yours smells an awful lot like my friend Sero!” You smile softly at the blonde.

“Well if we’re talking about the same Sero Hanta, then your nose would be correct. This is his jacket.” His eyes widen as he nods.

“Oh my gosh you must be the omega he keeps talk-” The blonde’s words became muffled by a large hand. A hand that belonged to the very man you were talking about. Sero smiles apologetically down at you as he shoves the blonde back to where you assume they’re sitting.

“Sorry about Kami, he’s… extroverted.” You smile back at him, mostly because you’re happy to see him again.

“It’s no problem at all. He recognized your scent on me.” He looked down and only then realized you’re wearing his jacket, and he beams at you. Then he takes a glance at the booth you’re sitting all alone at, his smile falling just a bit.

“Do you wanna come sit with us?” You take a moment to think about the offer, then agree with a nod. Your omega couldn’t pass up more time with him.

As you approach the booth you notice there are more people with Sero than you anticipated. There were four other people sitting there. Sero introduced all of them from left to right. Bakugo Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Ashido Mina, and the happy blonde from earlier is Kaminari Denki. You introduce yourself and when Sero slid into the booth, you followed after him.

These five are a tight pack, and you learn they all met in high school. Bakugo’s brash personality made you wary at first, but it didn’t take long to realize he’s just like that with everyone. He makes a bit of a snippy remark, which you easily counter, and he smirks while the rest smile or snicker. It would seem they like you.

You can’t tell what their second genders are, and you mentally kick yourself for even wondering in the first place. Their genders are none of your concern, but you can’t blame yourself when you’re constantly alert because of your own stupid second gender. As it turns out, you don’t need to wait very long to find out.

This time you smell your own scent as it permeates the air around you. You swear under your breath at the stupid suppressants that obviously can’t so their job, and the others snap their gazes to you. You sigh.

“Yeah, that scent is me. My suppressants flaked again. Sorry about that.” They all nodded, seemingly understanding. Sero must have told them about the other day. Of course, it would soon repeat. It didn’t take long for an alpha to take notice of your scent. The man -- why is it always the largest males??? -- strides up to the booth with a cocksure grin and leans down to inhale your scent. You duck away from him, into Sero, and let out an albeit small warning growl that was drowned in Sero and Kirishima’s. He ignored them all the same.

“Hey there little omega, you smell real nice. You wanna come hang with me instead? We can have some fun together with my buddies, what do you say?” The others stayed quiet. They’re going to let you defend yourself before they do anything in case they end up escalating the situation. You turn your head and lift your shoulder, hiding your scent gland.

“I’m not interested, thank you. Please leave me alone.” You hoped to whatever deity watched over you that the man would leave. Before anyone could react the alpha grabbed your wrist in a vice grip, yanking you roughly from your seat. You chirp, your scent turning sour and the entire pack abruptly stands, baring their fangs at the man. It barely registered in your head that Kirishima and Bakugo are alphas, Mina is a beta, and Kaminari is an omega, their fangs giving them away.

The man tightens his grip on your wrist and you cry out, your bones creaking under the pressure. With no other options you did the one thing that would get him to let go, and sank your fangs into his wrist. You jump back into Sero, who wraps an arm around you protectively.

“You bit me, you bitch!” He raises an arm, clearly about to try and hit you, but a large hand grabs his wrist. Surprisingly enough it’s Bakugo, and his growl is laced into his words.

“Leave now, or you lose a hand.” Sero speaks up from above you.

“You might wanna listen, amigo. That’s Dynamight.” The alpha rips his arm from Bakugo’s hold and looks down at you, and you growl at him as he scoffs and walks away, apparently not ready to fight the #2 pro hero over an omega.

You all sit back down and you pull up the sleeve of the jacket to inspect the already forming bruise on your wrist. Your nose wrinkles with a half-angry half-pained snarl. Tenderly, Sero takes your wrist and lightly squeezes the sides of your forearm, against your bones, and your lack of reaction tells him nothing’s broken. Still, he growls at the offending bruise.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You shake your head and put a hand over his.

“It’s not worth it Sero. He’s probably long gone.” You turn to the rest of the pack.

“Thank you for protecting me.” Kirishima is the first to speak.

“Of course! That dude was a jerk. I just hope he doesn’t go around doing that to other omegas.” Bakugo, surprisingly, spoke next.

“Obviously we’d protect you. You’re a potent omega and quirkless, so you attract unwanted attention without even knowing or wanting to. Besides, if you’re gonna be Sero’s omega there’s no way in hell we’d let some extra handle you like that.” The implications make your face burn, and Kirishima smacks the blonde’s arm with a ‘Don’t just say that kind of thing, Katsuki.’

After an hour or two of talking, and shockingly no other aggressive alphas, they all walk you home to your apartment. Sero wanted to check on your wrist again, so you invited them all in, but they all had something else to do, so you were left alone with Sero. The fact that the one alpha you desperately wanted to be around is alone with you in your apartment is both great and terrible. Thankfully, you have self-control and his own suppressants are working perfectly fine.

He inspected the darkening bruise on your wrist, his large hands gripping your arm tenderly and turning it gently as he prods at the skin. It doesn’t hurt too bad, so you assure him you’ll be perfectly fine. Eventually he leaves with a hug and you sigh once the door is closed, relieved that you were able to keep your omega at bay and your hands to yourself.

A couple days later you get a text from him and the two of you text often, asking how each other’s day went, if anything interesting had happened. You didn’t leave your apartment unless you needed to, since your suppressants clearly weren’t working, so you made sure to cut grocery trips short and keep away from any alphas that seemed a bit aggressive. Sero invited you to hang out with the pack at their house, and you obliged.

They lived in a huge house all together. Most of the rooms were sealed so no scents or sounds could go in or out for ruts and heats, and there were several spare rooms that were empty and waiting for more pack members. It was a fun hangout, filled with video games and good conversation, and even better food which Bakugo cooked. Sero had an arm around you whenever he was close, and you definitely didn’t mind. Your suppressants flaked in the middle, again, and Sero insisted he walk you home. With him walking you home there weren’t any alphas trying to get you this time. You ended up going over to hang out with them a lot when you weren’t working, and eventually Sero began to court you.

Obviously, you accepted, and after a few months of dating and scenting, your overactive scent glands seemed to mellow out, Sero’s scent mixing with it. Your suppressants are lasting much longer now, which is a good sign. Now that you’re Sero’s omega, he often helped you with your heats and you’d help him with his ruts, and he was strong-willed enough that he hadn’t marked or knotted you in the middle of things.

About a year and a half into the relationship you realize you really love him. Sure you had arguments, but everything was settled through calmed discussions over coffee or tea, and you came to understand each other well enough that arguments became few and far between.

You’re happy with Sero, so when your heat came around early and he was there to help, you were going to let him know just how much you loved him.

You texted him once you felt it starting. He was there within half an hour, and you pounced on him once the font door closed, smothering him in hot, wet kisses, eager to feel him inside you. He carries you to the bedroom, and you two are quick in shedding all of your clothes. He lays you on your back with a hand on your throat as he growls into your ear, making a hot shudder roll down your spine.

“Are you ready for me omega?” You whine and nod, your slick already dripping down your folds. You want him so bad it hurts.

“Please alpha, I need your cock.” He growls again, satisfied with your answer, and he presses into you, bottoming out with one firm thrust. You chant his name like a mantra as he set a bruising pace, rutting into you recklessly, wet skin slapping on skin the only other sound beside your whimpers and his growls. His teeth nip at your shoulder, sharp fangs testing your skin and claws digging into the fat of your hips. His cock is so deep, hot swollen tip kissing your cervix with every full-bodied thrust and sending you into a euphoric haze. Your own claws are sinking into his back, leaving little trails of red and blood beading down the lines. It drives him wild every time.

“That’s right, little omega. Mark me up, I’m all yours. Fuck you’re so pretty underneath me like this.” His hands grip behind your knees and press them into your chest, folding you nearly in half as he plows into you further. The angle knocks the breath from your lungs and your eyes roll back. You can feel his knot beginning to swell, feel how his thrusts are getting more controlled and his grip on your thighs tighten from the sheer concentration it’s taking for him not to breed you. You have other plans. Between wheezed breaths you squeak out.

“H-hantaaa~” He slows to a near snail’s pace, grinding his slowly growing cock into your sweet spot, a smirk stretching across his face as you splutter from the sudden change. He’s enjoying making you squirm.

“What is it, sweetness? Tell your alpha what you need.” You pant, chest heaving as much as the position will allow.

“Want your mark, want your knot~ Wanna be bred Hanta! I want your pups!” He stills completely, claws digging into the fat of your thighs with enough force to have drops of blood falling to the sheets beneath you. You’d never said anything like that in the heat of the moment. He can’t have heard you correctly...right?

“Princesa, do you know what you just said?” The seriousness in his tone has you sobering, but even before you knew exactly what you were saying. You nod frantically, wiggling your hips to get him to move again.

“Yes! I know alpha! Please, give me your knot~” His growl makes your bones shake, and with no warning he drops your legs around his waist and leans down so his face is buried in your neck.

“Fuck, I’m gonna trust you with this baby girl. I’ll give you exactly what you want.” His fangs sink into your scent gland just as he picks up his brutal pace, and the euphoria makes you cum hard, your whole body locking up and mouth falling open in a silent scream. He plows into you as you regain your breath, and you bite down on his own scent gland as hard as you can, tearing into his skin with every intention of leaving a pretty scar for the world to see.

His knot swells more, and he’s pushing it into you with every ounce of power he can generate with that gorgeous body of his. With one final snap of his hips he locks his body to yours and cums hard, ropes of hot seed filling you to the brim. He collapses on top of you and laps at the wound on your neck and you do the same. After a few minutes he leans back and cups your face in his hand, gazing down at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Are you alright?” You nod, nuzzling into his palm.

“I’m sorry. I was gonna talk to you about it, but my heat came early.” He kisses your forehead gently, brushing the strands of hair from your face.

“It’s okay, pretty thing. I trust you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You giggle and wrap your arms around him.

“Of course I do. I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you too.” You lay there, tangled in each other’s arms until his knot goes down. You whine at the loss when his cock slips out of you, clawing at him to come back because you’re still in heat. His hand gently wraps around your neck, a low chuckle on his lips.

“Relax, we’re far from done.” His already hard erection rubs up and down your glistening folds, barely stimulating your clit, teasing you until tears prick your eyes and you’re beggin him to fuck you again.

“When I’m done you won’t be able to walk for days. I’m gonna breed you so well, You’re gonna look so pretty all big and round with my pups.” He groans at the image he’d conjured in his head and you squeal as he slams his hips into you.

You’re in for a wonderfully long night.

#sero hanta #sero hanta mha #sero hanta bnha #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta x fem reader #sero hanta smut #hanta sero #hanta sero mha #hanta sero bnha #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero x fem reader #hanta sero smut #omegaverse #tw: a/b/o

868 notes · View notes

demonicheadcanons · 3 years

Note

Could I suggest the brothers reacting to MC confessing to them accidentally?

MC Confesses to the Obey Me! Brothers By Accident

AN: Cute prompt! Sorry I took so long to get to this, nonny! This post is romance based, so if you’re looking for something more platonic I’m sorry but this one’s not it ;u;

They’re literally almost all sleepy in these, I’m having a day where I find that really cute ^^”

Lucifer

Lucifer feels exhausted, half-dozing off at his desk when you walk in and poke him square on the forehead. It startles him enough that he sends you a harsh glare through his hair. You grin at him, and he responds only by scoffing and turning to the side, stretching his arms out. Well, he is grateful you woke him up to some degree - he has a lot of work to get done and has to remain focused.

But there’s something enchanting about how he looks and moves when he’s too tired and trusts you enough that he doesn’t feel the need to remain guarded. He’s graceful as always, but allowing someone to see him looking, for a lack of a better term, like his feathers were thoroughly ruffled and he was ready to turn in for the night, was a rare treat, and one sweet enough to crush your own walls.

By the time you realise you’ve just admitted to liking him aloud - something simple, but he knows what you mean when you say that maybe you like him a little too much, mumbled under your breath mindlessly - he’s already standing in front of you, leaning down to look you square in the face with an unreadable expression.

The corners of his mouth twitch up as he requests - or demands, its hard to tell - that you repeat what you just said. "I like you?" you say, although it sounds like a question, and he smiles and asks, "Are you sure? You don't sound it," with a teasing lilt to his voice.

You don't get to respond before he hums and straightens up, crossing his arms. "How much?" he asks, sitting against the front of his desk and watching you carefully.

"What do you mean, how much?" you sigh, frustrated. This proud man was getting on your nerves. Its not like confessing is easy, planned or not, and he had the gall to tease you about it?

"How much do you like me?" Lucifer's smile widens. When you don't respond, and you start to look somewhere on the edge of hurt, he sighs, rubs his eyes and stands up, tossing his pen unceremoniously onto the desk. He opens his arms and waits for you to walk into them, thoroughly confused by this entire interaction. "I like you too. I thought I'd get to confess first, but it seems you were so determined to beat me to it you did it without thinking."

You blush and glare up at him. That proud smile of his is softer around the edges now, and his hair is still just messy enough from where he's been running his hands through it whilst working that it makes your heart race. You lean into him, press your face against his chest, and release all your pent up emotions in a sigh. Lucifer responds with a chuckle, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Would you like some tea, my dear?"

[[Others under the read more!]]

Mammon

- You two tended to relax together. Things were stressful, it was hard being in a new world and Mammon had been the first to befriend you, even if he refused to admit how much he cared for you most of the time.

But he's tired now, and its a little different. He'd brought over a blanket again and he was on the floor of your room, where he tended to spend a lot more of his nights now, but also where he'd found a place for himself since the very beginning when you first arrived. He leans up on his elbow and looks up at you, and you watch him in turn from the bed. You'd just been talking about something or other but now he's simply grinning at you, something devilish and handsome, and you can't stop yourself.

"I really like you," you half-whisper, and then cover your mouth immediately as if you can stop him from hearing it, can stop the words from leaving and making their way to him. They don't, and he tilts his head, face slowly turning red.

"Huh? What'd you just say?" he asks, sitting up and staring at you. His eyebrows twitch down into a frown, and he looks puzzled, and almost a little bit hurt? "D'you mean it?"

Before you can respond, he barks out a laugh and lays down, staring at the ceiling and covering his face with one arm. “Ah, yeah. We’re friends, right? I like you too.”

You shake yourself out of your stupor to glare at him. “I don’t mean as friends, Mammon.”

He sits up again, looking offended. “What, so we’re not even friends now? Wow! Way to break it to me.”

“You-” you half-growl, before taking a deep breath. Your face is burning, and he’s maybe starting to piece things together, but you can’t stand any more of this. “I like you. I want to go on dates with you, and be your partner, and spend as much time with you as possible. I like seeing your smile when I wake up and knowing I have someone I can trust.”

His jaw drops open and he turns away, covering his face with one hand. “Gimme a second,” he mumbles, and when he looks back at you there are tears in his eyes and he’s grinning. “Of course. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with the Great Mammon!”

His voice catches, and then he’s laughing and crying and you scramble out of your bed to kneel next to him, startled and concerned. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you down on top of him.

“I like you too, MC.” He kisses the top of your head, watery giggles still rattling through his chest.

Leviathan

In all fairness, neither of you were expecting it. It was late, or maybe it was early? You could never really tell in the Devildom, and you didn’t want to move right now for fear of ruining the moment.

Levi was curled up against your side, eyes fluttering closed and then bolting open again as he tried to focus on whatever show he was supposed to be presenting to you. He’d been talking through a lot of it, and you still had the remote in one hand so you could pause it to listen to him properly each time without missing anything. After about an hour of that, he’d started to look tired, and then eventually flopped down against your side, defenseless and unworried, too tired to really process what he was doing.

Your other arm was wrapped around his shoulder, touch featherlight on his jacket for fear of startling him. He was cute, adorable even, and whilst you quite enjoyed seeing him flustered, it was nice to see Levi free of it as well, even if it was a spell only going to last until he woke up a little more.

That moment, as it were ought to, came quite soon. The episode was fading out and the outro music just starting to play when you mumbled, “God, I really do like you.”

Without warning, Levi sits bolt upright and headbutts you in the process, clinging onto his own head as he stares at you with wide eyes and a tomato-red face.

“H-h-huh?” he stutters, lowering one hand to cover his mouth. You fan at your own - he’d made you bite your tongue, and you were trying to process things when he started to mumble to himself at a mile a minute.

“There’s no way you could mean you like-like me right? I mean, I’m me. And you’re you. Why not one of my brothers, or even Lord Diavolo? He’s going to be the king soon! And-”

“Levi, please, one moment,” you groan. Your chin and mouth were sore and you needed a second, and even if you were planning to confess to him sooner or later it really wasn’t like this, and you didn’t need him denying your feelings so soon. You take a few deep breaths, waiting for the pain to subside a little. Levi helps; he hands you a cold can of something or other, purses his lips until they become nothing but a thin, worried line, and waits.

You start laughing soon after. “I do like you. You, Levi. And I know I could spend all day explaining why and you still wouldn’t accept it, so I’m just going to need you to trust me.” You look at him, nervous and already feeling thoroughly rejected, and smile. “You don’t need to return my feelings, but I hope you can accept them as the truth, at least.”

Levi tears up, and he nods, gripping the bottom of his jacket in both hands. His face takes on too many different expressions in those painfully silent moments, and then he opens his mouth, trying to force something out. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“I l-like you too, MC.” He sighs, clenches his hands tighter as he tries not to stammer too much through his words. “I... I...” He laughs, then, holds his head. “It hurts, so its not a dream, right?” His smile is small but glorious, and you can see his sharp teeth. “Yeah. I like you. And you l-like me?”

You take his face in your hands and laugh. “I like you.” He’s bright red but continues to grin anyway, and you poke at his cheeks with your thumb, smiling in kindness.

Satan

Satan is curled up in one of the few tidier parts of his room, and you sit somewhere close by, occasionally glancing up to look at him over a stack of books.

The mess had been more disturbing at first - there were books everywhere, and he definitely wouldn’t take kindly to you knocking down a stack or two of them. He wouldn’t lose his temper, not at you - he hadn’t in a long time, not since before you’d made a pact with him. And despite how awkward it was to try to find a little space big enough for you to sit in every time he requested you come to his room instead of the library or your own, it was nice having that place and knowing you fit there, with him and all of his precious books.

He chuckles and pulls you back to reality, and you’re glad he hadn’t caught you staring at him. You look down at your book and back up again in a weak attempt to cover up what you’d been doing, and Satan smiles all too knowingly, as he often did, and tips his book at you.

“Listen to this, MC,” he says, voice somewhere between cheeky and amused. He’d definitely caught you staring. You blush but tilt your head all the same, curious, and he continues. “It’s a human world story about an admirer who can only ever sneak glances at the person they admire over the top of books. How charming is that?” His bold smile was annoying and handsome at once.

“It’s daring of you to assume I was actually looking at you,” you grumble. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

“But you didn’t deny the admirer part, hmm?” Satan laughs. He doesn’t mean anything by it, isn’t really making assumptions. He’s just trying to poke at you a bit, trying to feel out your reactions so he can better guess at them in future ahead of time. He did that often, and it was something you were getting used to. But this time he was right, and it was a little bit different.

“I can’t deny what’s true,” you mumble at your book. It was quiet, and usually he’d be so engrossed in his own again that he wouldn’t hear you, but you don’t hear pages turning, can’t feel the aura Satan has when he’s thoroughly engrossed in something.

You look up at him and he’s still looking at you, puzzled smile and flushed cheeks catching you off guard. Oh no.

“Do you like me, MC?”

Satan sounds unsure, and you can only swallow and nod as if you weren’t admitting to something you’d planned to keep to yourself for so much longer. Maybe you’d have told him someday in the future, when you were long back in the human world and had met someone else, or were at least starting to get over your feelings. But no. You’d just gone and done it now, with books piled precariously on either side of you and the subject of your affections staring at you, dumbfounded, over an unsteady pile of them.

He absorbs your words slowly, and you know you can’t stand and rush out of there without knocking over enough books to piss him off, so you stay and wait. So what if he knew? Satan wouldn’t get mad about something like that, and he was respectful enough to just ignore it and get on with his life. If it were Lucifer, he might tease you about it, but Satan won’t. And if he reciprocated?..

“Ah, that’s good then,” he smiles, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. He lets out an airy laugh, and you can tell that as much as he’s trying to hide it, he really is feeling flustered. “I was never sure. But, hmm...” Satan clears his throat, looks at you and genuinely smiles now, showing you something deeper than the usual facade he put up to make himself appear like more than just his anger. “I like you too, so its quite convenient, isn’t it?”

You laugh, then, and a weight leaves your shoulders... only to bring on a new one. Your sudden movements topple one of the book piles beside you, and Satan lunges forward to try to catch some of them before they can hit you as you protect yourself with your arms.

When the last one falls, you hear Satan groan as he sits up and pushes the books off of the two of you. He looks around, grins, and then laughs before offering you a hand.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually.” His emerald green eyes sparkle in the low light, just bright enough to read. “Shall we go out somewhere else? I’d love to take you on a date.”

Asmodeus

(Mildly suggestive at parts. Sorry ;u;)

It was a weekly tradition, to go to Asmo’s room and put on a face mask and relax. He gossiped, although it was harmless - there was no judgements passed on anyone - and you listened and offered insight on things. Asmo would show you whatever new makeup or perfume or clothes he’d gotten, would sometimes go for a full impromptu fashion show, or would rest his head on your thighs and let you run your fingers through his delightfully soft hair.

Today, it was the latter. You’d missed last week for some reason or other - Mammon had probably distracted you, or Lucifer dragged you off somewhere with him, not giving the chance for you to refuse. Sometimes the brothers did it intentionally; rather than setting up their own days to spend with you, they had decided to sabotage your days with Asmodeus instead. You were able to prevent it most of the time, to sneak off to his room or at least away from whoever was trying to draw your attention, but after missed weeks where you couldn’t find enough excuses or an escape route, Asmo tended to cling to you and not let go, begging for some affection. It felt best from you, he’d said once, and you were sure he was joking, because Asmo often commented about how he’d done much more with others in the past and surely you petting his hair and listening to him didn’t compare to that, right?

He opens his eyes now, and looks up at you from your lap. His eyes were always startling, because they were incredibly intense even if his powers didn’t work on you. They were beautiful, as well, much like the rest of him, and your gaze flutters away after a bit because you know they’ll draw you in and force you to admit to things you don’t feel ready to talk about yet.

Asmo chuckles, and you wind a hand through his hair and pull it slightly, frustrated. He pouts at you, face colouring, and you perhaps regret it.

“Don’t be a tease. You’ll ruin my hair if you pull at it like that,” Asmo whines. “I mean, of course I don’t mind that much, but-“

You cover his mouth and shush him, tutting as you put your hand back in his hair and played with a lock or two. Asmo only laughs again, and you can’t help but think how he’d only adore making you more and more flustered, and would even risk irritating you so long as he got to see you a blushing mess. He didn’t push too far, though - he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and more than that he’d be left on his own with no one to run their fingers through his hair if you decided to leave because of it. Or, well - he could easily find someone willing to do so, but it wouldn’t be you, and that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?

He closes his eyes again and you feel it tug at your heart, something like a desire, but maybe more innocent than what he was used to drawing out of people. You pause, and Asmo opens his eyes to look up at you again, confused, and when met with that gaze, you can’t really hold it back the words that had been threatening to spill for weeks, now, and moreso on days like this when he was seeking delicate affections and smiled at you so beautifully it made your breath catch.

“I like you, Asmodeus,” you half-whisper, and you know he’s heard it because his eyes are wider now and you can see the yellow of his iris, and you half think to push him square off your lap and book it, but then he’s kneeling in front of you with a firm grip on your wrist.

Asmo’s mouth opens and closes, like he isn’t sure what to say. Something like ‘do you mean it?’ or ‘of course you like me, who doesn’t?’ or, maybe, ‘I like you too, love you even!’ Nothing comes out, everything jumbling together in his head. It was rare to see him at a loss for words, as he was a stickler for keeping his composure in almost any situation - it was attractive to be in control of your emotions, wasn’t it? But the silence was painful, and you weren’t sure what to make of it, because as much as Asmo’s mind was racing right now, you weren’t psychic. You couldn’t tell that he was trying to figure out the best way to confess.

Eventually, Asmo settles on doing something he knows how to do better than finding the perfect words for this. He leans forward, hesitates as if checking you were okay, and then kisses you. It’s soft and gentle and not nearly as deep as what he momentarily considered making it, but it’s just right for a confession. He pulls back only to kiss you again, and this time smiles against your mouth when you kiss him back. When you smile too, he throws his arms around your shoulders and laughs, burying his face against your neck and pressing light kisses against the skin there, too, although you can still feel him smiling too much to do it properly.

In the end, it’s not really said aloud, but you know what Asmo is trying to say. He likes you, too. And he is so, so incredibly happy.

Beelzebub

9 times out of 10, when you get the urge to go to the kitchen for some reason - to cook, to get a drink, or to get a snack - Beel can be found there. The main rooms in the house he goes between are the common room, where he spends time with his brothers, his own bedroom, and, of course, the kitchen. And lo and behold, here he is now, eating something you can’t actually recognise and talking to Belphie, who slumps against the counter, half-asleep, but offers you a tired smile when you enter the room.

Beel himself doesn’t notice your presence until Belphie stands up and stretches, looking between you and Beel pointedly. Maybe you had been obvious, or maybe it was because Belphie was actually quite sensitive to people’s emotions when he decided to be and when it involved Beel, but he would often leave you alone with his brother if you bumped into the two of them, as if he were trying to give you a chance. His knowing smirk as he passes you on the way out, mumbling a quiet and lazy goodbye, didn’t help.

“Ah, MC!” Beel beams, and your breath catches. Generally, Beel looked quite pissed off. It was just his resting expression, and you knew he was content or thinking about the next meal he’d have, or something like that. But when he smiled? If you didn’t think it might offend him, you would absolutely compare it to that of seeing an angel. His expression hid nothing, betrayed his delight, and he grinned every single time without fail whenever he greeted you, unless he was seeking you out because he’d had a disagreement with Belphie and needed support.

And now as he stands in the kitchen, unknown food in hand and delighted smile on his face, you consider telling him he’s beautiful. Not like Asmo, not in the same sense. But he truly was stunning, and you wanted him to wear his smile with pride for eternity. He deserved to be so happy, and it would be a nice treat for you, too, to be able to see that expression anytime you wanted. You might sell your soul for that much, you joke dryly to yourself.

Beel looks puzzled when you return from your thoughts, and you realise you haven’t even greeted him yet. Perhaps that was how Belphie had noticed.

“Beel!” you chirp, and you think maybe he grins wider when you say his name, although it’s hard to tell. You lean against the counter where Belphie had been resting. “Did you find something nice to eat?”

He nods enthusiastically, and then seems to consider something before he closes the fridge and stands beside you, resting against the counter too. “Do you want to try some?” he offers, and you can’t help but think that he really only offered food to you and to Belphie, and what did that mean? Did he love you as much as his brother, and was it in the same way, or something different like how you felt for him?

“Am I being selfish by liking you so much?” you think. Or rather, say. Out loud. For him to hear. Unfortunately.

Beel freezes, and his ears go bright red. “You-.. hmm? What do you mean?” he asks, and you can tell he’s looking for a specific answer in the hopeful way he looks at you, but you don’t know what it is. If you admit to liking him and he sees you as a sibling, wouldn’t that be awkward? But if you lied you’d have to carry that with you, too, and it would be hard to correct in future.

You sigh and take a deep breath, and look at him, speaking with whatever confidence you can muster. “I like you, Beel. Would you be interested in... dating me?” You think to tell him that it’s okay if not, it’s okay if he’s not interested or he doesn’t want things to chance, it’s alright if he doesn’t think of you like that. But you can’t bring yourself to, and it’s too late anyone to take back what you’ve said, and what’s the point in confessing only to shut yourself down and reject your own advances before he even gets a chance to?

As you wait, Beel’s face steadily gets redder, and he seems to be fumbling through his own thoughts as if he can’t find the right one, the right answer to this question. And, eventually, he nods, and that smile returns, and your head spins because these last few minutes had been too much to deal with and now you have this huge demon grinning at you as if you’d just handed him the sun with a kiss on the cheek and promised him the world, too, on top of it.

“I like you too, MC!” he beams, and sweeps you up into his arms, food forgotten for the moment. You’d panic if his grip wasn’t so firm, and if you weren’t so sure he would never even risk dropping you. Beel’s eyes twinkle and you think you see a spark of mischief peeking through his delight before he holds you tight to his chest and spins, and you can only hold on and listen to his laugh. You bury your face against him and laugh, too, and you feel as warm and bright as his smile.

Belphegor

(Mild spoilers for up to lesson 16 / 17)

Although you thought you would be able to suss out where Belphie would be - as Beel had his places, Belphie had his own; the planetarium if he couldn’t sleep, so he could look at the stars and think without being disturbed, or the library if he was scheming with Satan, or the attic if he wanted to sleep and wasn’t in his room - you found that it was actually more tricky than that.

You see, after being released from the attic where he’d been trapped for months, Belphie found himself seeking out his brothers on odd occasions. He’d do so anyway, before all this nonsense had occurred, but now there was more meaning behind it. He’d missed them, and he liked to curl up and play games or just fall asleep near one of them. Finding him on those days was almost impossible, because he could be anywhere.

You almost feel like giving up on it - the two of you had agreed to spend time together, but he was nowhere to be found and was probably off sleeping somewhere with no idea what time it was - and felt thoroughly dejected when you bumped into Lucifer, who was quietly leaving the music room, movements near silent and with a gentle and rare smile on his face. When he sees you it vanishes, goes back to his usual expression as if he’d just put on a mask, but you can tell he’s concerned because he puts a hand on your back and leads you down the corridor with him. He only stops at the end of it and leans down to quietly ask if you were feeling okay.

“I’ve been looking for Belphie and I can’t find him anywhere,” you mumble, automatically responding at a similar level to him. It felt like you were sharing a secret. “We were supposed to go on a walk together.”

Lucifer smiles, then. “Ah.” He tilts his head, and for a moment considers telling you it’s a shame he can’t help, but you look so dejected he can’t bring himself to do it. “Now that I think about it, he did mention something like that before he fell asleep in the music room. I didn’t want to wake him up, but he might not mind if it’s you.”

He chuckles quietly when you cheer up, thanking him before you rush off back down the corridor and open the doors of the music room. You see Belphie sleeping on one of the seats near the piano - he’d probably been listening to Lucifer play something or other, and had passed out in the middle of it all.

You can’t help but smile as you crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair away from over his eyes. As usual, he doesn’t even stir - you weren’t sure if he was a light sleeper or a heavy one because it seemed to vary by the day. but most of the time you could get away with little things like this without waking him. It makes you consider just letting him rest until dinner. You would still have time to go for a walk after, and it’s not like anything would change - there was no day and night in the Devildom. It would remain just as cold and dark as it always was. Any time would be the best time to go out, really.

Belphie shifts in his sleep, and you watch as his hair falls back over his face. You stifle a laugh as you push it away again, allowing yourself to run your fingers through his fringe slightly. His hair is soft, delightfully so, and he looks so peaceful and cute whilst sleeping that you absentmindedly let out a sigh.

“I like you, you know?” you mumble, only just stopping yourself from poking him in the forehead, because that would wake him up and it wouldn’t be a good idea to do so right now. “I really do.”

And, much to your horror, Belphie half smirks and opens one eye. You let go of his hair and sit back on your heels, startled, and he stretches and yawns.

“You’re awake,” you say, as if you were accusing him of something, and he laughs.

“Someone decided they wanted to play with my hair,” he grins, lopsided and with sleep still filling his voice, pitching it lower than usual. He clears his throat. “How could I not wake up? And just in time to hear you confess, too!”

Belphegor sits up and watches you cheerfully, and you pout at him. He liked to tease you, but this feels like it should be a forbidden topic. Something he shouldn’t poke and prod at you about.

“I wish you’d just pretend not to have heard it,” you grumble, but it only makes him smile more, and he tilts his head to one side, feigning confusion. Before he can ask why, or tease you more, you cut him off, focusing your gaze on the floor. “It hurts to be teased about this. If you don’t like me it’s okay, but please don’t make me regret liking you.”

“And who said I didn’t like you?”

You look up at him again, and he only sighs and gets up off the bench to kneel in front of you. He looks like he’s waiting for an answer, or waiting for something at least, but when you don’t respond, he pats you on the head and stands, holding out a hand.

“Don’t we have a date to go on? Get up off the floor, it’s dusty,” Belphie says. You take his hand and stand, and he pulls you closer to him, half hugging you as you walk. He was a pain to deal with and he knew it, but he was determined to prove himself worth the effort.

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multifandomimagines · 3 years

Text

Let Me Show You - A Theo Raeken Imagine

Characters: Theo Raeken x Reader

Word Count: 3469

Summary: Reader is feeling stressed and insecure, so Theo wants to be there for her and make her feel perfect.

Warnings: Smut (female-receiving oral and vaginal), insecurity, mentions of IED

Written by: Josie

A/N: Keep reading after the cut 👀

Disclaimer: GIF isn’t ours - credit to who it belongs to

Y/N sighed as the puffy red eyes of her reflection stared back at her through the mirror. This week had been… different. Every little thing had been going wrong, and each day brought more and more emotion, stress and insecurity. Her under-eyes were dark with exhaustion and her smile wasn’t as bright as it usually was - that is, when it showed itself anyway.

She didn’t even hear when her bedroom door opened and closed softly, didn’t register the light footsteps across her carpet moving toward her; not until the eyes of her boyfriend met hers in the mirror, round with concern. Seeing him so suddenly would usually have elicited a wide grin from Y/N, and she would jump into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Yet, in the state she was in, his arrival made her feel as if she could finally let it all out. Her emotions overwhelmed her like a tidal wave, and her eyes prickled with tears.

“Theo,” she whispered, her voice cracking, and hurriedly turned around to bury her head in his neck. Almost like a reflex, Theo held her tightly to his chest as she cried, his hand rubbing up and down her trembling back. He slowly walked them backward until his legs hit the edge of her bed, and pulled her shaking body onto his lap.

“Shh, baby,” Theo hushed her sobs tenderly. “It’s okay.” Her head had made its way back to his neck, Y/N couldn’t even look up at him. He wouldn’t show it, because he had to be strong for her, but seeing his girl like this broke him to pieces inside. She was the only person who saw the good in him when everyone else tossed him aside as either a failure or a villain. Either way, he was a lost cause in the eyes of most people. Everyone really… well, everyone except her. Out of all of the people Theo had met in his life, he knew Y/N deserved to be happy more than anyone. She deserved to be cared for, celebrated, loved. As someone who dragged him out of his darkest places, Theo wanted nothing more than to help her out of hers.

Y/N sniffled, and slowly lifted her head from Theo’s shoulder, her eyes staring downward and avoiding the gaze of her boyfriend. She knew it hurt him to see her like this and she wished she could just… stop.

“Hey,” she heard him say. “Look at me Y/N.” His voice was rich with worry for the girl he loved, and she flinched at the thought of causing him grief. It was quick, but Theo saw it, and his heart snapped once again. Slowly, he raised his hand to her cheek, running his thumb along her cheekbone softly, collecting the tears that were slowly drying on her face. She subtly leaned into his touch without even realising she did it, it was like her body moved off it’s own accord, drawn to him. Gently, Theo moved his hand to Y/N’s chin and turned her head to face him.

For the first time since he’d arrived, Y/N finally let Theo see the pain in her eyes. They were glossy and slightly bloodshot, and Theo’s gaze softened at the sight of her vulnerability. “What’s wrong?” He asked a simply question, not wanting to overwhelm her.

“Everything,” she breathed. Theo’s fingers ran themselves through her hair, encouraging her to keep going. Initially she wanted to shrug him off and succumb to her feelings again, but she let him comfort her. “I’m just feeling everything all at once. Theo, I can’t-“

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay,” He held her cheeks delicately, scared to break her fragile form. “Breathe with me.”

It was something Theo had learned over the months. Sometimes Y/N really needed to calm down and just breathe slowly, in and out, exhaling the intensity of her feelings as much as her brain would allow. Though she hadn’t admitted it, Y/N realised that the method worked better when Theo led her through it.

After a minute or so of long, deep breaths, Y/N was no longer jolting with the ghosts of sobs from earlier. Theo continued to hold her close, remaining gentle but tight enough to always remind her that he was there for her. No matter what.

“This week has been so bad,” She began, and Theo stayed silent, realising that she was finally feeling comfortable enough to talk. He felt a small surge of pride flow through him at this, knowing that it was hard for her at times. “I’m stressed. I still have so much work to do, and deadlines are creeping up on me like a freakin’ predator. I’m worried for my brother, he’s struggling with his IED and he’s even been taking his meds, but they keep needing to up the dose and it kills me to see him in the state he gets. I keep screwing up too, like earlier I kept stalling the car, and I broke a photo frame yesterday morning, and I forgot to submit an assignment for grading at the beginning of the week. And I can’t sleep at night… Theo, I’m so tired.”

“Hey, come here,” Theo whispered, pulling her into another hug. “Okay, first of all, you are so smart and every time you get stressed about an assessment, you always go and smash it, don’t you?”

A smile threatened to pull at her lips at his confidence in her, and she nodded.

“Right,” Theo grinned. “Next thing, Liam is resilient, just like you. He won’t let one little setback get him down, and his meds will be sorted before you know it. Plus, he’s lucky to have you as a sister, you know that? You’re always there for him, everyone sees it.”

Y/N shifted on Theo’s lap, looking into his eyes as he spoke. “And,” He continued. “Everyone has weeks where they feel like they mess everything up, even super cool badasses like me.” Y/N giggled, spurring Theo on. “Someone as perfect as you doesn’t need to worry about a few little mistakes. They’re nothing, okay? Not important.” His hand moved soothingly up and down her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Is that everything?”

“Um, yeah…” Y/N trailed off quietly, suddenly avoiding her boyfriend’s eyes and sinking into herself. Theo knew her so well at this point that not a single subtle movement would go unnoticed, so he raised his eyebrows at her response. He knew she was holding back, and she knew that he knew. Sighing, Y/N gave in a little. “It’s stupid.”

“What have I always told you?” He said, smiling at her. “You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I’ll be there for you no matter what. You know that, don’t you?”

Y/N nodded and breathed in, slightly shakily. “I feel ugly, Theo.”

“What?” Theo whispered in disbelief, his eyes the size of saucers. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that. “Baby-“

“I told you it was stupid-“

“No, it’s not that, it’s just-“ Theo searched for the words in his brain. He never thought he’d have to convince the most beautiful girl in the world that that’s what she was. He thought it was just common knowledge, really. “You and ‘ugly’ would never even fit in the same category. Not even in the same universe.”

“That’s just not true though,” Y/N stated, shaking her head, her eyes tired. “I can’t even look in the mirror at the moment. I feel like when I look, I’m not looking back at me. And it makes me cry. I’d rather not see myself at all than to look at that reflection.”

If Theo’s heart wasn’t broken before, the damage was definitely done now. Hearing Y/N, his girl, say that she wasn’t pretty, but ugly, made him feel all kinds of lost and confused, but more so sad, because he wished he could take away her pain and make it all disappear. Unfortunately, his powers of pain transference only worked on physical pain, and he silently cursed that fact.

“How can you not see what I see…” He whispered, almost more to himself than to her. “You know, the first time I saw you Y/N, even from a distance I knew I’d never see anyone as beautiful as you. And now I’m looking at you, months later, and I still think you’re just as stunning. You are gorgeous. You hear me? The most gorgeous ever.” Theo placed kisses on her nose, her cheeks, her forehead as he spoke, causing Y/N’s heart to flutter. His words stirred something in her, and the intensity of his eyes boring into hers made her forget about everything she was worried about. A wave of adoration for her boyfriend washed over her, and she cupped his cheeks delicately, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

Y/N didn’t have the words at that moment, all the emotion was caught in her throat, so she did what she felt conveyed her feelings best. She leaned forward and kissed him, Theo’s lips moving against hers immediately, as if by instinct. It was so soft, so pure, light as a feather. She pulled away from him all too soon, their eyes meeting each other once again, but Theo didn’t feel like stopping. “I want to show you how beautiful you really are,” He spoke lowly, holding her hand and giving a gentle squeeze. “Please baby. Let me show you.”

He didn’t have to explicitly say what he really meant by that for both of them to know, and his request sent warm shivers through her body. She spoke only one word: “Okay.”

Theo connected their lips again, harder this time. Even with just a kiss, he wanted to pour every ounce of love he had for her in it. He would make sure that he made her feel exactly how she deserves to feel. Her hands had moved to the back of his neck, plucking at the hairs on his head, while Theo held her as close as their bodies would allow.

His fingers slid up her t-shirt slightly, brushing the skin underneath. Theo’s fingers were so cold that Y/N gasped against his lips, so her boyfriend took the chance to slip his tongue into her mouth and explore. Slowly, he lifted her shirt up further and further until they were forced to pull away so Theo could tug it over her head and toss it on her bedroom floor.

Of course, Theo wanted to marvel her brilliance as best he could, so he gripped her by the waist and moved her carefully so she was laying flat on her bed, looking up at him. “So beautiful,” he murmured, and waisted no time in resuming their kiss. His hands travelled down her sides as their lips moved in sync like a perfectly choreographed dance, and his hips ground into hers - gently still, yet hard enough to give Y/N friction where she needed it the most.

He dragged his lips to her neck, sucking and biting on the skin to create dark marks to decorate her already perfect body. Theo considered it his finishing touch to her, as he knew she needed him as much as he needed her, which was what made them so perfect. Y/N’s hands roamed his back, one leg secured over his hip to keep him close, and Theo reached around to unclip her bra. His eyes widened - he would never get used to seeing her body like this, and she wasn’t even fully exposed to him yet.

“I love these so much,” He said, lowering his head to one breast and closing his mouth over her nipple, his tongue sliding across her sensitive skin. Y/N moaned as he simultaneously kneaded her other breast with his hand. “I love this one,” He said, moving away from the one he was playing with. “And I love this one.” Theo reattached his lips to her other breast, her rapidly increasing breaths spurring him on.

Y/N’s hips involuntarily bucked up at Theo’s, and he chuckled lightly against her skin at the movement. He trailed his lips back up to her collarbone, her neck, her jaw, all while dragging her leggings and her panties down her legs as far as he could. He pulled away from Y/N’s lips to crawl down the bed until he could completely reveal her entire body. Her leggings and panties discarded on the floor, Theo looked his girl in the eyes as he placed his hands on her thighs and lightly encouraged her legs apart.

Shivering with anticipation, Y/N watched her boyfriend wide-eyed as he licked one long stripe up her centre. Her eyelids fluttered, but she couldn’t bring herself to break the intense eye contact she held with Theo, until he began to flick his tongue against her clit. Her head fell back onto her pillow, arms flying down to grab onto Theo’s hair, feeling his head moving between her legs. She moaned as he licked and sucked at her clit, doing everything in his power to make her feel good, and it was music to his ears. He soon replaced his tongue with his fingers, rubbing her clit quickly, and started licking along her core, like it was his whole life’s purpose to do so.

“Fuck, Theo,” She whimpered, and Theo groaned against her at the sound of her saying his name in such a situation. Her voice held so much vulnerability yet so much excitement, so much feeling, so much love. The vibrations against her core sent waves of pleasure racing through her, and Theo watched through his eyelashes as her back arched off the bed.

Theo removed his mouth from her core, and her head whipped up briefly at the loss of contact, her eyes wide and pleading for something, anything. Barely moment after, Theo pushed two fingers inside her, pumping them at a quick pace. Y/N moaned louder, and Theo pulled himself up so his head was level with hers, staring directly into her eyes as his fingers worked their magic. “How good does this feel Princess?”

“So good,” Y/N breathed, barely being able to find it in herself to speak. She gripped onto his biceps as he continued his work between her legs, moaning with every thrust of his fingers. “It feels amazing.”

Theo smirked slightly, content that he was getting exactly the reaction from her that he set out to get, and leaned down to capture her lips with his once again. He added another finger and picked up the pace of his actions, his mouth drowning her voice as she cried out. He kissed her hard, drawing the breath out of her almost completely, and she could taste herself on his tongue which only brought her closer to the edge.

Feeling her walls clench around his fingers, Theo moved his lips around to her ear. “Are you gonna cum?” He said, his voice rough with his own arousal. He knew the answer, but he also knew that Y/N loved to hear his voice, and it somehow turned her on even more. All she could do at this point was nod frantically, her moans and whimpers making it impossible to get the words out. Theo sped up his actions even further, trying with everything he had to send her over the edge. “Cum for me baby.”

The words uttered into her ear sent her into ecstasy, and she let go screaming Theo’s name. He watched with his mouth hung open as her body pulsed and jolted as her orgasm washed over her in waves, her cries slowing into whimpers and her contorted face relaxing into one of sheer bliss.

A few moments later when Y/N had caught her breath, she reached down and palmed Theo’s bulge through his joggers, eyes widening when she realised how hard he already was. He groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder and tensing at her touch. “N- no, baby,” He stuttered out, voice rough from the feeling. Y/N was confused as he slowly moved her hand away, tilting her head to the side in a silent question. “Tonight is about you.”

Usually she would protest and say that they both need to be pleasured equally, but she wanted him so badly that she didn’t have it in her to argue. Frantically, she yanked his head down and smashed her lips against his, tongue and teeth clashing in desperation. All she wanted was him, and she didn’t want to wait any longer.

She pulled his shirt up his body, almost ripping the fabric with her speed, and he pulled away so she could pull it over his head. She loved to admire Theo’s toned chest and stomach, so she reached her hand down to feel up his abs. She tried to look, but Theo was adamant on her being the one who was worshipped, so he dipped his head and began sucking on her neck once again, causing her head to fall back and a moan to fall from her lips.

As he painted her neck with purple bruises, Y/N reached down and played with the waistband of his joggers, fiddling with the drawstrings. Theo felt her fingers brush him and growled against her neck, hurriedly standing up to yank them and his boxers to the ground, completely exposed before her.

Y/N whimpered at the sight of him, naked and ready for her, and he crawled back over her just as quickly as he’d stood up. Theo looked at her with dark eyes, wordlessly asking for permission to treat her to just what she deserved. “Please, Theo,” She whispered, and of course, Theo didn’t want to deny her anything she wanted, especially when she asked so nicely.

The two of them moaned in harmony, jaws dropped open, as Theo pushed himself inside her, easily sliding in due to her wetness. He moved all the way in until he felt like he was inside Y/N’s stomach, pausing there as they both breathed heavily from the sensation. “Feeling better?” Theo spoke thinly, smiling at his girlfriend’s expression of pure pleasure.

“Miles better,” She replied, thrusting her hips up at Theo, making it known that she wanted more. The chimera began to move, pushing in and out of her at an ever-increasing pace, making sure she felt every single inch of him to give her the best sex possible. Y/N hands roamed his back, nails scratching at it and breaking the skin as she moaned and cursed into his ear.

“Always so tight and wet for me,” Theo groaned, his hair falling messily over his forehead as he moved. “So perfect. Every inch of you is perfect.” He sped up his movements, making sure to hit the spot that gets her screaming, and grabbed at her breast with one hand and delicately stroking her cheek with the other. “I love you.”

Theo was going so deep and fast now, Y/N was so close. Her nails dug into his back as her release approached, unable to tear her eyes away from his as they glowed yellow from the adrenaline. “I love you too,” She spoke shakily, so nearly there, when Theo kissed her hard, knowing she was reaching her orgasm from her clenching walls.

“Now,” He spoke against her lips, and as soon as the word had left his lips, Y/N screamed out Theo’s name at the most euphoric feeling she had ever experienced, shaking and quivering around him. Moments later, as she was still feeling the high, she felt Theo slow his movements as he spilled into her, his own release washing through him like a tidal wave.

After coming down from their high, Theo flopped down next to her in bed, immediately pulling her close to rest her head on his chest, which was still rising and falling. He kissed her head lightly, stroking her hair affectionately, and then pulled the covers over their bodies. He knew Y/N was exhausted, not just from their activities but from her whole week. Her breathing had slowed and he realised she had already fallen into a relaxed slumber.

Theo smiled to himself - seeing his girl finally calm with no stress lines pulling at her face made his heart soar. He hated seeing her so upset, in fact it was his least favourite thing to see in the world, so he vowed to always be the one to lift her back up again.

Theo would always be there for her: rain or shine, any day, any time. And one day it’ll be ‘til death do them part. His smile lingered on his lips as he let his own eyelids closed and he joined her in her slumber, meeting her in her dream.

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf imagine #theo raeken #theo raeken imagines #theo raeken imagine #teen wolf smut #theo raeken smut #theo raeken x reader #cody christian

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spencersmagic · 2 years

Text

hands - s.r

masterlist // join my taglist

a .5k text on spencer's hands

Couple: implied spencer x gn reader.

Category: i don't even knowww. it's not nsfw, though.

Warnings: self-hatred, abandonment/daddy issues, a sentence about physical touch.

Word count: .5k.

this is... something else. i'm not sure what motivated me to write this, or post it, but i've been thinking about it for a while.

as I look down at my clean and calloused hands, i can’t help but feel a deep hatred for them.

as a young man, adults would tell me i looked exactly like my mother. “but your hands,” they would point out, grabbing them as if i were an object, a ragdoll standing there for their own enjoyment, “your hands are definitely your fathers.”. the people who i should feel comfortable calling my family would laugh softly, cooing at me.

the very hands that ran through my father’s hair in frustration when he didn’t know how to talk to me. the very same hands that once packed his bags hurriedly and closed the gate to our home. those same fingers that ran through his contacts before making a call, the ones that never stopped at my name.

they never looked me up, no matter how much i dreamt they would, seeing my success and realising I was worth staying for. those strong, calloused hands never drove him a mere half-hour to quantico, instead choosing to live in a blissful ignorance as i sat down carelessly on the floor of the bathroom and cried into my forearms, not knowing how to deal with the heartache and abandonment of the generations behind my own.

i’ve worn rings in hopes of making them look longer and more delicate. i’ve painted my nails in all different colors, because my father would never dream of doing such a thing. still, it seems like they’re never mine.

ever since that day, my hands have felt foreign. a land i have yet to discover, a limb not fully functional, as if i were still learning to use them.

but these hands are my own. their fingers run through my hair when i’m worried about one of my teammates and friends. they hold the markers with which i map out geographical profiles, allowing the world to become a better place by putting bad guys behind bars. they make coffee and bring it to my best friend when she needs it.

slowly, i’ve learned how to use them.

they now brush strands of hair away from my lover’s face, seeing them smile shyly at the gesture. they bring flowers to our dates, because people should never stop trying to show their loved ones just how much they matter. these hands allow me to caress my lover’s skin, making them whimper and squirm in pleasure.

these hands allow me to touch the hearts of the people i love the most. and, slowly, they become my own.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid hurt comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fan fiction #fanfiction #spencer #reid #criminal minds #cm #Matthew gray gubler #matthew #mgg #gubler #spencer reid drabbled #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x gn reader #gn! reader

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Twin!AU Part 3:

Hunith and Uther alike have to face the consequences of their actions, Merlin (and everyone, really) decides that family doesn’t end in blood.

Part 1 Part 2

TW: Suicidal ideation (mostly past, but it sort of... flairs up a little here I guess)

Hunith’s face falls and she physically recoils at Merlin’s harsh declaration.

His hard gaze doesn’t leave her, even as she glances at Arthur, a little behind Merlin and to his side. The blonde has his gaze fixed on Hunith, but he looks away the moment they make eye contact, unable to stand the confused pain in her expression:

“Merlin? What happened?”

Lancelot and Percival approach slowly after handing the horses off to a couple of stablehands, and Gwaine puts his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, not that The Warlock notices; he clenches his jaw tightly before speaking, but continues resisting the urge to look away:

“You lied to me. About everything.”

Hunith’s eyes go wide and she gulps, opening her mouth and shutting it again as she struggles to think of a response. It’s then that Merlin finally looks away, gazing over the top of her head at the empty courtyard. Arthur quietly intervenes, his authoritative voice full of warring emotions despite it’s low volume:

“We should take this somewhere more private.”

Merlin doesn’t even nod, just turns around and walks back towards the castle, hands clenched tightly at his side before he pushes the doors open and stalks in without looking back. Gwaine and Arthur share a concerned look before the older knight rushes after him. Arthur gestures for Hunith to go first, but not without stopping her with a hand on her shoulder, and a muttered, almost teary:

“You had no right.”

Her face falls even further, but The Regent steps back and looks away before she can reply, and she timidly hurries through the door after Merlin and Gwaine. Arthur gives Lancelot and Percival a pointed look:

“I imagine we’ll be in my chambers, make sure we are undisturbed. I don’t want anyone interrupting unless the world is about to end. Let Leon and Morgana know that they can take charge of any meetings today.”

They both nod, but Lancelot jogs up the steps to stop Arthur before he can leave:

“I... know what she did was wrong, but don’t let Merlin be too harsh. He’s always been close to his mother, he’ll regret it later if he pushes her away completely.”

Arthur almost snaps out something about how Hunith isn’t Merlin’s mother, but he keeps it to himself, sighing and nodding:

“Yeah, I know, but she... she needs to know what this has done to him, how much he’s suffered needlessly because of this. There isn’t... I know she probably just did what she thought was right but... she needs to know. Merlin deserves an apology, and he certainly deserves the truth.”

Lancelot nods hesitatingly, but doesn’t say anything else, stepping aside to allow The Regent through. He catches up to the others just as Merlin slams the door open to his chambers, continuing to not look back as he heads over to the large dining table, leaning his hand against the back of one of the chairs and staring towards the window.

Gwaine and Arthur approach slowly, standing either side of him but not touching him as they wait in suspense for someone to start the conversation. Hunith already has tears in her eyes as she stands on the other side of the table, trying and failing to get Merlin to look at her. The harsh glare he laid on her before was horrific, but this... him being unable to look at her at all, that is worse:

“Merlin, please, I only did what-”

She’s cut off by Merlin’s harsh instruction:

“Sit.”

She glances to Arthur once more, but he just nods wordlessly at the chair in front of her; the only sounds in the room are the scraping of the chair on the stone floor and Merlin’s laboured breathing. He was evidently trying very hard to hold his anger in, and when he says nothing more once she’s sat down, Gwaine puts his hand back on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, finally turning to face Hunith but remaining unable to look in her eyes:

“Why?”

A tears slips loose from her eye and she sniffles, taking a deep, shaky breath and fiddling with her hands on the table. Arthur absent-mindedly wonders if Merlin would still do that too if he’d been raised with his actual family, if it was natural, or if he’d picked it up from her:

“Please, Merlin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

Merlin takes in a sharp breath, tightening his gip on the chair in a way that looks painful, shaking his head:

“No. No apologies, no excuses. I want to know exactly why you lied to me, why you took this from me.”

His voice is deadly in a quiet kind of way, like he could snap clean in two and set the world alight at any moment. Gwaine looks worriedly between the other two men, clearly thinking on the same lines as Lancelot, but neither of them notice, Merlin’s gaze stuck to the table and Arthur’s stuck on Hunith:

“I would have told you one day, Merlin, you-”

Merlin finally looks up at her, the blazing fury in his eyes contrasting in a rather horrific manner with the steady stream of tears on his cheeks:

“One day when? Arthur’s known about my magic for ages. I’ve been in Camelot for years, you have had every opportunity.”

Hunith lets out a low sob, but doesn’t look away:

“I didn’t think you were ready, Mer-”

Merlin bites his lip and turns away, running his hands through his hair harshly before turning around again, quick as lightening, and pointing an accusing finger at her:

“No, you weren’t ready! You weren’t ready to face the fact that you lied to me about who I am, because you knew you had no right, because you knew I would be angry!”

Hunith stands, but doesn’t make any moves to approach Merlin at Arthur’s harsh glare and Gwaine’s worried gesture. He doesn’t think Merlin or Arthur would hurt her, he’d never even consider the idea, but he knows that his partner needs space to be angry:

“I didn’t want you to be upset,-”

Merlin scoffs and lets out a sob of his own, wiping his face harshly before responding loudly:

“Gods, I wonder why I would be upset! Maybe because you lied to me about everything?!-”

Hunith shakes her head desperately, but Merlin carries on without pause:

“-You had no right to keep this from me! I grew up alone, with no one but you to rely on because you made me think I was some kind of beast! Keeping me from Camelot, I understand, keeping it from me as I child even, I understand. But you’ve had years of opportunity, you are selfish, a hypocrite and a coward.-”

Hunith looks horrified at his admission, mainly the sudden reveal at how her treatment of Merlin had effected him independently of the lie:

“-I hated myself, I was terrified, I didn’t want to exist, because of you! You made me think I was some kind of unnatural monster and then you sent me to Gaius under the guise of teaching me control, so he could carry on the lie for you! He promised me I wasn’t a monster, that I wasn’t born evil, over and over, but he’s lied to me from the moment I met him, how am I supposed to trust anything he says?! How am I supposed to trust anything you say when I was just some unwanted, throwaway thing that you never asked for, and got rid of at the earliest opportunity?!-”

Gwaine and Arthur stare at Merlin with matching heartbreak in their expressions; it seems that Merlin is upset at more than just the base lie. The New Prince doesn’t even try to stop the tears, his breathing quick and ragged, and after a few moments of thick silence, he takes a deep breath and quietly continues:

“-I didn’t have to be so alone, that was all you, and Gaius, and Kilgharrah, and everyone else who lied to me. When I had nothing, I had you, and you lied to me.-”

Merlin’s voice cracks, his breathing shaky and his face pale as his entire world seemingly crumbles down around him:

“-You took my brother from me and you had no right. You’re not my mother, you’re just as bad as Uther.”

With those last words, he storms from the room, Gwaine hot on his heels. Arthur stays however, feeling the need to comfort the crying woman, but also feeling, maybe slightly cruelly, that she deserves this. He sighs, pushing the though from his mind and moving around to put a hand on her shoulder as she buries her face in her hands, sobbing:

“I... you did your best, I think he knows that, but that doesn’t change what you took from him, from both of us. He needs time.”

She just about manages a nod, and Arthur sighs again, standing awkwardly for a few minutes before he realises she isn’t going to stop any time soon. He gently pushes her to sit back in the chair before heading to the door, following Gwaine and Merlin.

They’re not in the corridor when he shuts the door behind him, but he’s not surprised at that. Merlin has always been private about his true emotions, always kept them close to his chest, he wouldn’t want anyone to see him having a breakdown in the middle of the hall. Months ago, Arthur would have thought it was left over fear of his magic being discovered, but now he bitterly thinks that it probably has more to do with the way he was raised.

He runs a hand through his hair, sparing a glance to the—previously unnoticed—worried looking guards. Thankfully, they were two of the men that had been trusted with the truth (Arthur reminds himself to thank Leon later for paying attention to who was stationed where), so Arthur isn’t too worried at the fact that they had likely overheard the one-sided yelling match. He fixes them with a commanding stare and clears his throat:

“Escort the Lady Hunith to the physician’s chambers when she emerges, leave her with Gaius, but don’t rush her.-”

They bow briefly in acknowledgement of his orders, and his question comes out quietly:

“-Do you know where they went?”

They needn’t ask who, and one of the guards answers lowly, matching Arthur’s volume:

“I think they headed to Sir Gwaine’s chambers, Sire.”

He nods and mutters a quiet thank you, slowly heading in that direction, knowing he had to go see them but also wanting to give them few extra minutes of privacy. They still had a lot to take care of, they’d missed several council meetings over the last few days, and whilst Arthur trusts Leon and Morgana to keep things rolling, he really should be making regular appearances. That, and they still haven’t dealt with Uther; to be perfectly honest, Arthur is surprised that rumours haven’t started spreading about The King’s disappearance and Arthur’s sudden growth of responsibilities, but he’s grateful. Don’t look a gift Griffin in the mouth or... something.

He finally stops outside the knight’s room—nodding at Lance who wordlessly stands guard in the corridor—before flinching at the quiet crying he can hear from inside. He knocks a few times softly before entering, shutting the door behind him and approaching the bed. Gwaine sits leant against the headboard, tears in his eyes as he holds a shaking Merlin in his arms. The Warlock lays besides Gwaine, in the middle of the bed, his face buried in the knight’s chest and his hands twisted into the fabric of his tunic.

Arthur lets out a deep, mournful breath at the sight of his brother so distraught, and he moves around to the other side of the bed, raising his eyebrow in question at Gwaine and settling next to Merlin at his singular nod. Merlin doesn’t seem to notice his presence, not until Arthur settles a hand on his back and whispers his name. He instantly calms a little, and Gwaine mentally scolds himself for the slight flair of jealousy; Merlin had discovered he has a brother, that his best friend is his brother, it’s no surprise that he calms easier in his presence, especially considering the reveal unburied so much hidden trauma.

After a few more minutes, Merlin turns to be laying on his back, though he makes sure to stay in Gwaine’s embrace. The knight leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head, and though he can’t see it, he can almost feel the slight smile on The Warlock’s face. Arthur moves his hand back to his lap, looking at the two of them out of the corner of his eye; he sees nothing but worry and utter adoration on Gwaine’s face, and he wonders just how he hadn’t approved of their relationship. Gwaine’s whispered words just solidify Arthur’s newfound belief in the man:

“I love you, Merls, no matter what.”

Merlin lets out a quiet, choked laugh, and Gwaine considers that a win, even more so when Merlin responds in kind:

“I love you.”

Despite their relationship not being a particularly new thing, Arthur hadn’t even considered the possibility that they’d reached that far, that their partnership was that solid; perhaps that had something to do with their general lack of PDA, which he had always wondered how Gwaine had put up with. He grimaces with a quiet realisation, but it catches Merlin’s gaze and he raises a questioning eyebrow, his tears thankfully dried. Arthur glances up at Gwaine, who smirks at him knowingly, before looking back down to his brother:

“Making you Crown Prince is something I’m actually quite looking forward to, but I’m going to have to crown Gwaine as well.”

Gwaine snorts in amusement but Merlin turns pink and coughs slightly:

“Well.. we haven’t really discussed marriage, Arthur.”

Arthur looks to him with an apologetic expression:

“Merlin, royals have different courting rules. Royal partnerships tend to be incredibly short before a marriage has to happen. Back when me and Gwen were courting, we hid not only because Uther wouldn’t have approved, but also because we didn’t want to rush things. I’m especially glad we did now, otherwise we would have had to be married by now. The whole kingdom know that you two have been together for at least a year, the moment you’re crowned...”

His voice trails off as he comes to a second, horrifying realisation. He stands from the bed and stares at Gwaine with wide eyes and a pale face:

“Oh my God. Oh my God. If neither me, you, or Morgana have children... once you two have been married... Gwaine will officially be third in line for the throne. Oh... fuck.”

Merlin and Gwaine freeze for just a moment before they burst into loud laughter, and Arthur shakes his head, pacing slightly and not paying attention to the knocking at the door. Lancelot walks in slowly, an amused smile of his face despite his confusion:

“Do I even want to ask?”

Arthur fixes him with an almost distraught gaze before glaring half-heartedly at Merlin:

“Why? Why couldn’t it have been Leon, or Lancelot?? Elyan or Percival?? Hell, I would have been happier with fucking George.”

Gwaine’s laughter gets even louder but Merlin calmly wipes the tears (of laughter, thankfully) from his face and looks to Lancelot with bitten lips and held in hysterics:

“Arthur just realised that once all the crowning ceremonies happen, Gwaine will be third in line for the throne, if I’m the last one to die and there aren’t any children.”

Lance’s eyes go wide and he clamps a hand over his moth in a poor attempt to hold in his laughter. He fails miserably, bursting just like Gwaine and Merlin had moments earlier. Arthur fixes an annoyed glare on him and waves a desperate hand:

“This is not funny.”

Gwaine just shakes his head as he finally manages to calm himself, wiping his face clean and sitting up straight, one hand still on Merlin’s shoulder:

“It’s hilarious, Princess. God imagine Geoffrey’s face. Imagine the council.”

Arthur just takes a deep breath and looks to the ceiling again:

“Fuck. Ok, alright, whatever. That is a problem for another time.-”

He looks back down to Merlin with an apologetic smile, after shooting one last withering glare at a still-smirking Gwaine:

“-You feeling up to council? I’ve missed a fair few, and I think it might be a good idea for you two to start making appearances as well. That and... as much as we’ve told them you have magic, it might be worth showing it off a little.-”

At Merlin’s wide, fearful eyes, Arthur holds his hands out placatingly and hurries to continue:

“-You don’t have to, but they're working on the ban repeal. Obviously not anything huge, but passing jugs or paper or whatever with magic might help desensitise them to the idea. Plus, now that you’re semi-officially royalty, and you have Gwaine or Leon trailing you almost everywhere, no one would dare attack you. And if they do, you have every right to defend yourself in whatever capacity you deem necessary.”

At Merlin’s still nervous face, Lancelot quickly tacks on:

“And they all know that Arthur would go ape-shit if anything were to happen to you.”

Arthur gestures at the knight and nods in agreement, nodding further at Gwaine’s quiet “He’s not the only one.” . Merlin takes a deep breath and shuffles off the bed, standing and straightening his clothes out with unsteady hands:

“Let’s go. You’re right, I’m going to have to get used to stupid council meetings at some point if you’re insisting on crowning me, might as well be now.”

Arthur and Lancelot smile proudly and Gwaine moves to stand at his side, straightening his own clothes before running his hands through Merlin’s hair, flattening and neatening it. Merlin stands still and lets himself be assessed and fixed with a soft smile on his face, and Arthur feels almost as if he were intruding on something personal and domestic, even more so than when they were professing their love for each other; he looks away awkwardly and Lancelot raises an amused eyebrow at him.

The four of them finally exit the room, Arthur and Merlin falling into step besides each other, Gwaine slightly behind them, and Lancelot trailing the three of them with his face pulled into a blank mask and his hand on his sword.

This time, there is no hesitation before they enter the council room, and no raised eyebrows when Merlin takes his rightful place alongside Arthur at the head of the table. Flanked by Morgana, Leon, Lancelot, and Gwaine, Arthur effortlessly takes control of the meeting, hurrying things along with a proud confidence and an easy authority that was slowly but surely being taken on by his brother, at his side.

The council session lasts for the remainder of the day, and though at least half of the councilmen yelp, Gaius obviously not included, when Merlin first starts floating things about or magically highlighting words or moving the room’s lighting around with a flick of his wrist, most of them are used to it by the time the sun touches the horizon.

Arthur finally calls an end to the meeting when it gets dark. Though he was in a slightly manic mood and desperate to get as much work done as possible now that he was actually free to attend meetings, he could see that the others, Merlin especially, were flagging. He knew it would happen eventually, he can’t imagine The Warlock has been sleeping much, and he definitely came to some sort of private, horrifying conclusion around half a candle-mark ago. The hitch in Merlin’s breath, the widening of his eyes, and the slight, tiny flair of every candle in the room thankfully went unnoticed by everyone bar Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot.

When the room empties of councilmen, Merlin stands and paces away from the table, hands fiddling roughly with his sleeves. Arthur waves Morgana and Leon away, thanking them briefly before nodding pointedly at the door. Lancelot follows shortly, and Arthur has half a mind to send Gwaine away as well, but he knows that would be somewhat selfish as the other man approaches his partner’s turned back:

“Merlin? Something wrong? I thought that went remarkably well.”

Merlin’s head turns quickly, his furrowed brows confused:

“What? What went well?”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow, glancing briefly at the neatly stacked paperwork on the table:

“The meeting? About planning your coronation and the legalisation of magic? That we’ve been in all afternoon?”

Merlin untenses slightly, turning around properly and using one hand to rub at his eyes tiredly:

“Oh, yeah right. It did go well. They didn’t freak out too much at my evil sorcery, did they?”

He tries to go for a joking smirk, but it falls flat, and Arthur walks towards him to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin sags even more and Arthur quickly steps forward, gathering the suddenly distraught man in a tight hug. Merlin easily accepts, burying his face in Arthur’s neck and clutching the back of his tunic with shaking hands:

“I compared my mother to Uther. I told her it was her fault that I didn’t want to be alive. She’s never going to forgive me.”

Arthur shuts his eyes, stroking a hand through Merlin’s hair and muttering a quiet:

“Oh, Merlin, she loves you more than anything in this world, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Merlin doesn’t look up, but shakes his head roughly; before he can argue, Gwaine steps around the two of them, pressing a kiss to the nape of Merlin’s neck before stepping back and stroking a soft hand over his back:

“What she did was wrong, Merls, you’re allowed to be angry. And now you’re not so angry anymore you can go sit down with her and talk it out, ok? There was no way that first conversation was going to be anything other than difficult and heartbreaking, but you got through it, and now you can sort it out properly.”

Merlin relaxes just a touch, and Arthur gets the disturbing feeling swelling in his gut that Gwaine knew of Merlin’s (hopefully, former) despairs before the whole... twin thing. When The Warlock finally pulls away, he thankfully looks a little more confident, despite the drying tears on his cheeks; Arthur gives him a soft smile and nods towards the door:

“Tonight, or tomorrow?”

Merlin takes a deep, fortifying breath, and walks towards the door purposefully, wiping his face clean before taking Gwaine’s offered hand in his own:

“Tonight, now. I should... I need to talk to Gaius as well. I’ve been unfairly punishing him for long enough, I think.”

Gwaine smiles understandingly, though Arthur, who rushes to catch up and walk on Merlin’s other side, shakes his head with a frown:

“Not unfairly, Merlin. It would be well within your rights to cut them out of your life for the foreseeable future for this. But I also understand wanting to forgive them so you have more... support. They may not be blood, Merlin, but... they are family, and that’s ok.”

Gwaine gives him an annoyed look at his first words, over Merlin’s shoulder, but doesn’t say anything. Merlin stops in the middle of the hallway, suddenly and without warning, and Gwaine grunts slightly when his arm is pulled back. The Warlock spares him an apologetic smile before turning his gaze to Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow, but Merlin tilts his head and frowns:

“Arthur you do know that... I consider you family above all others, right? you’re right, family doesn’t have to be blood,-”

He squeezes Gwaine’s hand, almost subconsciously, and receives a gentle squeeze back:

“-but after what we’ve found out, after all of this, all that we’re doing to... fix it, to fix what was done to us... you’re everything, you’re my brother. Me forgiving Hu... my mother, and Gaius, doesn’t change that I trust you above them, I consider you before them. They’re family, but you’re family first.”

Arthur’s eyes widen slightly at Merlin’s stern assertion, but he wills the tears in his eyes to disappear as he nods once, his jaw clenched with emotion. Merlin smirks slightly and rolls his eyes, muttering something about an “emotionally repressed idiot” before pulling him into an eagerly returned hug. Gwaine just snorts at both of them, happily leaning against the wall with crossed arms as he waits. They pull away fairly quickly, hyper aware of the fact that they were in the middle of the corridor, and whilst basically the whole citadel had picked up on the fact that something had changed, is changing, they didn’t want to let on too much until official public announcements were made.

They hurry in their journey to the Physician’s chambers, it was getting late and they wanted to sort this out as soon as possible; Gods know Merlin isn’t going to sleep a wink until he's spoken to his mother again.

They pause momentarily outside the door, taking deep breaths as they attempt to block out the hushed conversations coming from inside, not wanting to eavesdrop. Merlin turns to Gwaine with a nervous frown:

“Would you mind... waiting out here? Just for a minute?”

Gwaine gives him a soft smile and nods, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering “Call for me when you want me to come in, alright? I’m not going anywhere.” before giving Arthur an encouraging clap on the shoulder and stepping back to lean against the opposite wall.

Arthur sends a grateful smile the knight’s way, receiving a respectful nod in return, before he turns to the door. After a nod from Merlin, he raises a hand that shakes only slightly, and knocks. The murmured conversations stop immediately, and Gaius’ voice calls out:

“Enter.”

With one last look to each other, the brothers open the door and walk in together, shutting it gently behind them and turning to face the shocked pair. Hunith stares at Merlin with tears in her hopeful eyes, but Gaius quickly clears his throat and stands straight:

“How can I help, My Lords?”

Arthur sighs and Merlin shakes his head at the Physician’s formal address of them, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes before taking a small step forward :

“Don’t... I’m not... just Merlin, please.-”

His voice is quiet and tired, and the pleading tone it takes on deepens Arthur’s frown. He lets out a shaky breath, biting his lip before looking up to Hunith and continuing:

“-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. And I didn’t have any right to say those things; you’re... you’re nothing like Uther, and you did your best in a terrifying situation. You didn’t know any better, I shouldn’t blame you for how I turned out.”

Hunith’s tears overflow once again, and she takes in a shuddering breath as she steps hesitatingly towards the Warlock:

“Oh, my boy, you were right. I wasn’t ready to lose you, and I let that fear overcloud my judgement of what I knew to be right. I’m so sorry sweetheart, I should have told you who you were a long time ago, and it wasn’t fair of me to expect Gaius to carry on the lie, especially when you met Arthur, and especially when he found out about your magic.”

With that, Merlin pulls her into a tight hug, height difference be damned as he buries his face in her neck and shakes. Arthur gulps as he looks upon the scene, sharing a small, mournful smile with Gaius, the Physician understanding The Regent’s forgiveness in the small nod of his head. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as Arthur was expecting, though he supposes that forgiveness is more than just saying it aloud, and Merlin still has a great deal of self-worth related issues to get over, thanks to Hunith’s overly cautious raising of the boy. The Warlock clears his throat, his hands still on his mother’s shoulders as he gives her a weak smile:

“Igraine says thank you, by the way, for raising me with so much love.”

Hunith lets out a small chuckle, wiping away Merlin’s tears with soft hands:

“It was my honour, I’m glad that your... mother, is pleased.”

Merlin’s frown is brief, and he responds quickly:

“You’re my mother.”

Hunith’s smile grows, as does Merlin’s and she nods shakily, almost whispering:

“Ok... I... ok.”

Merlin lets go hesitatingly, but turns to Gaius after a moment or two. The Physician quickly interrupts anything the younger man could have said with a shake of his head and a soft smile, pulling him into a hug as he softly speaks:

“It’s alright, my boy. You were well within your rights to be angry, we had no right to lie to you in such a way.”

With Gaius and Merlin’s soft conversation happening to the side of the room, Hunith turns to Arthur with a hopeful smile on her face. He returns it faintly, and she pulls him into his own hug. He stiffens in her hold, wide eyes darting around the room as he clenches his hands at his side. It only takes her stroking a hand through his knotted hair for him to relax and hug her back:

“I’m honoured to have been able to raise your brother, Arthur, and I am sorry for keeping him from you for so long, it was selfish of me. I didn’t consider what you were losing, in not knowing that you weren’t alone, only what I would lose should I tell the truth.”

Arthur gulps and nods, but tightens his hold on her as the tears come to his eyes:

“It’s... ok. I understand, I think. The danger you put yourself in to raise and protect him was immense, I just wished I’d known sooner, so I could have done all of this sooner.”

They pull back, but Hunith keeps a tight hold on Arthur’s shoulders, an assessing frown on her face as she raises a hand to cup his cheek. Arthur leans into it, blushing slightly under her motherly gaze:

“I know. But you’re doing wonderfully, Arthur. You and Merlin will be the saviours of this Kingdom, I’m sure of it. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

A tear slips loose from Arthur’s eye as he harshly bites his lip. His voice comes out small and unsure, and Hunith has to resist the urge to pull him into another hug:

“You think?”

She just smiles and nods instead:

“I’m sure.”

Merlin and Gaius look upon the scene fondly, and Arthur’s blush deepens when he catches them staring. He steps back from Hunith who smirks at him knowingly as he frowns at Merlin:

“Shut up, Merlin.”

He just laughs and shakes his head:

“I always knew you had a soft spot for my mum.”

The Regent shakes his head and rolls his eyes, ignoring Merlin’s continued laughter:

“Either of you eaten? I’m starved.”

Gaius and Hunith’s smiles come a lot easier at that, and they shake their heads. Arthur leads the way out of the chambers, smiling and nodding at Gwaine’s raised eyebrow. The knight returns the smile, quickly sidling up to Merlin and re-taking his hand as Arthur speaks:

“I’ll let the kitchens know to have five meals sent up to my chambers, I’ll see you there in a moment.”

They part ways in the corridor, all of them with easy smiles and lighter hearts, especially when Gwaine eagerly regales his interpretation of Arthur’s reaction to having to crown him.

The next morning was once again tense. Arthur’s assertion late last night that he intended to finally deal with Uther weighs heavy in everyone’s minds.

Hunith and Gaius are once again tucked safely into the Physician’s chambers, and all of the King’s most trusted knights are called to stand guard in the corridor. Merlin and Arthur wear their smart clothes (a suggestion by Morgana that Gwaine thought was funny enough that he begged and begged until Merlin gave in), and they take in with them Leon and Morgana.

Uther looks manic, his hair unkept, his face unshaven. His clothes are clean at least, but they’re rumpled, likely due to the near constant pacing of the former King. The room is dark, the curtains obviously haven’t been opened in several days, but the dim candles highlight the mess throughout the room. Uther may still be being passed meals by the guards, but out of concern for the staff’s safety, no servants were granted access to tidy or otherwise serve.

His head whips around when the door opens, his enraged face turning red at the four people stood smartly by his door. He storms towards them, but Morgana, no longer scared of the consequences, holds a hand out and mutters a few golden words, halting him in his tracks. He apparently hasn’t lost his voice though, as he turns to Merlin:

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DAUGHTER?! YOU-”

Merlin rolls his eyes and clicks his fingers, his eyes also turning golden as Uther’s mouth shuts with a clack. Leon manages to hold his smirk in, just stands still as the perfect guard, his hand on the hilt of his sword, but Morgana doesn’t even try, smiling openly. Merlin holds Uther’s furious gaze for a few more moments before looking to Arthur at his side, tilting his head in question. The Regent nods at him before stepping forward, his back straight and his face and voice Kingly:

“You will listen, and you will listen well, because I will not repeat myself. You are the only abomination in this room, and you will live with that for the rest of your days. How long that is, is up to you. I am Regent, soon enough I will be King, Myrddin will be Crown Prince, and Morgana will be Princess; when that happens, magic will finally be fully legalised, and the public will be made aware of your crimes. I will not hide things from my people, not like you have. No matter what you deserve, I struggle to bring myself to sentence you to execution, and you’ll be humiliated to learn, I imagine, that Merlin argued in favour of letting you keep your head when I brought it up.-”

Uther glances angrily at Merlin, but looks back to Arthur when he realises that he’s still incapable of speaking:

“-Therefor your options are as follows: You may go to the summer home on the coast, where you will be under constant guard, but will otherwise have a semi-free life. You will stay in Camelot, but live out the remainder of your days in this room only. Or me and Merlin will take a week long trip away to, say, Nemeth, whilst Princess Morgana and Sir Leon announce, organise, and undergo your execution. You have today to decide, we’ll be back this evening.”

Arthur doesn’t bother waiting for a reaction, turning his back on Uther and gesturing the others to lead the way through the door. He pauses momentarily, one hand on the door frame as he turns back, a mournful frown on his face as he quietly speaks:

“If you had just told the truth, if you had just owned up to making a mistake, you, me, Myrddin, Morgana, we... we could have been a family. You’re the one that ruined that, you’re the one that tore us apart, and I swear to you now, that whatever option you pick, I will never forgive you.”

That only seems to enrage Uther more, but Arthur isn’t quite sure why he bothered to hope for another reaction. He shuts the door behind him, waving at Merlin to reset the magical locks as he sighs and rubs tired hands over his face:

“Well at least that’s over and done with.”

Leon pats him on the shoulder consolingly, and Elyan raises an eyebrow, glancing around at the others and sighing when he realises no one else is going to ask:

“He didn’t take it well then, I’m guessing?”

Arthur takes a deep breath and stands straight, shaking his head. Morgana is the one to answer however, and Arthur appreciates the way she makes a genuine attempt to keep the humour out of her voice:

“No, he wasn’t best pleased, but I think he’s accepted that he has well and truly lost this battle. Something he’s not entirely used to, I suppose.”

The knights nod in understanding, and Merlin lets out a deep breath, tilting his head slightly:

“Weird to think that he’s my... dad... ugh.”

They all chuckle at that, even Arthur, though they all stop with concerned frowns when Merlin suddenly straightens up with wide eyes and an open mouth:

“Oh... my God... how did I...- What?!”

Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder, his frown deepening:

“Merls?”

The Warlock just ignores him, turning to Morgana with still wide eyes:

“You’re my sister! I’ve been focusing so much on how Arthur’s my brother that I didn’t even consider the fact that you’re my sister!”

Morgana takes in a sudden breath, and all bar Leon (who just raises an eyebrow and then rolls his eyes when he realises that he’s the only one unsurprised by this) stare at the two of them in shock. Morgana slowly pulls Merlin into a hug, and the two of them clutch each other tightly as a grin grows on Arthur’s face. Leon gives him another clap on the back, this one more congratulatory (if a little confused. Honestly, how did they miss that?), and the others cheer just as Gwen turns the corner into the corridor. She smiles confusedly at Merlin and Morgana, still hugging, as she sidles up to Leon, whispering:

“What’s the occasion? They find Uther dead?”

Leon laughs but shakes his head, leaning down to mutter his response:

“They only just now figured out that they’re siblings.”

She looks up to him quickly with a disbelieving raise of the eyebrows:

“Wait, just now as in, just now?-”

Leon smirks and nods firmly, and Gwen shakes her head as she laughs:

“-It’s been almost a week.”

Leon laughs as well leaning against the wall as the others chatter excitedly among themselves:

“Yeah, apparently you and I are the only ones who had considered the idea. These are all the smartest people I’ve ever come across...”

He trails off, but Gwen looks up at him with a teasing smirk:

“And yet sometimes...?”

They both laugh quietly, shaking their heads when Percival catches their eyes and tilts his head in question.

The group walks away soon enough, heading to one of the smaller dining rooms for an early lunch and a chance to discuss their intentions for this afternoon’s council meeting. Morgana, Merlin, and Arthur walk together, and conversation flows between all bar Gwaine, who stares at the back of his now betrothed’s head with the quiet adoration and lowly simmering excitement of someone that knew the man he loves is finally getting all that he deserves.

END of Part 3!!!

Part 4 will be VERY short. Will be just about post coronation and public announcement, will probably contain Merwaine’s wedding, some casual magic, some more family bonding.

I hope y’all enjoyed this!!! I wrote it surprisingly quickly once I set my mind to it

230 notes · View notes

mindofwesley · 3 years

Text

Dance with Me, Darling.

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: You danced with her in the rain with a smile on your face, so why can’t Natasha find it in her heart to forgive you for leaving her?

Warnings: Implied suicide, death and like one swear word.

“Dance with me, darling.” You say pulling Natasha by the hand.

“Honey, I ballet dance. I don’t know how to do the whole dance in the street with no music thing.”

“Wise men say, only fools rush in” you sing, twirling slowly on the spot. “But I can’t help, falling in love with you.” You continue, causing a blush to rise on Natasha’s face.

“It’s late and it’s raining. Let’s get back.” your best friend says.

“Shall I stay, would it be a sin. For I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

You pull her into you, causing her to clumsily match your movements.

“Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things, are meant to be”

You spin her around, and let go of her hand, causing her to feel cold from the loss of contact and yearn for your touch.

A beat passed, but you extend your hand back out to her before continuing, “take my hand, take my whole life too.”

This time, instead of you pulling her to dance, she reaches out to you, intertwining your hands as she spins you into her.

You wrap your arms around her and rest your head in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, ensuring you catch her scent.

She deposits a kiss to your hairline, as you both sway along to the silence.

“For I can’t help, falling in love with you.” You finish with a break in your voice.

Smoothing her hand across the cold stone, Natasha takes a deep, shaky breath before allowing her fingers to fall and trace along the engraved name.

Laying the flowers and the stuffed animal down, the redhead kneels on the hard floor, clearing leaves and twigs whilst she talks.

“I bought lilies again, because I know they’re your favourite and I saw the elephant when the girls and I went to the zoo.” She says with a smile. “Yelena got chased by a monkey and started yelling at it in Russian. It was the funniest thing.” She continues, moving to sit on the floor and pulling her knees close to her chest. “You’d have loved it.” She adds with a sad smile.

“I wish you could have been there.” She finishes, wiping a stray tear from her face.

“Remember the last time we went to the zoo, and you got a little too close to the sealion enclosure and got soaked?” the assassin starts. “You threw a strop afterwards and only cheered up when I gave you that baby elephant.” She adds with a watery smile.

You loved elephants and she knew it, so being your best friend, to cheer you up, she disappeared and when she returned, she was holding the cutest baby elephant teddy that you had ever seen. As soon as she handed it to you, your cheeky smile quickly returned to your face.

She sits in silence for a few moments, enjoying the memory, before speaking again.

“Your family are doing well.”

“Your nephew is thriving, and his reading has come on in leaps and bounds. He’s so like you; geeky and sweet, but God he’s got the devil in him. Again, just like you.” She laughs. “He doesn’t quite understand what happened, but he knows he misses you.” Her voice sad.

It takes a few minutes before she realises that it’s beginning to rain.

She looks up to the sky and smiles, she knows how much you loved the rain.

Whether it was April showers, or a downpour, you’d always be the first, and often the only one, outside.

The rain calmed your mind and bought you peace, you’d say. Natasha never really understood the beauty it held or how calming it could be, until after you’d gone.

‘I’ll always be with you.’ Your letter said. ‘As long as the sun shines, the wind blows and the rain falls. I’ll always be there and I’ll always be with you.’

A heartbroken laugh leaves her before she speaks to you again.

“Why did you do this? Why didn’t you come to me? I could have helped you.” She starts. “I may not have been great at advice, but I could have been a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. Anything. I’d have been anything and done anything for you if it would have given you a reason to live!”

She takes a deep breath trying to keep her mask in place. It doesn’t last long though before she crumbles.

“How could you leave me?” she questions, her voice broken.

“How could you go and die and leave me here all alone. Please come back! I need you, please come back.”

Almighty sobs claw at her throat before her head drops and she cries into her arms.

And that’s where she is when Wanda finds her hours later. Soaked and crying in the rain.

“Nat?”

It takes her a few minutes, but the redhead eventually looks up at her friend.

“Nat, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” Wanda reasons. “It’s been a year. She wouldn’t want this.”

“She didn’t know what she wanted. She made a permanent decision on a temporary fucking emotion, and I will never forgive her for it.”

“She was hurting Natasha, she did what she thought was right for her, in that moment.”

“I just don’t understand why she didn’t come to me. Or you. Or anyone.” She cries. “It’s like she didn’t even try.”

“You know that isn’t true.” The Sokovian starts, kneeling next to her teammate. “You know how she was when it came to talking about her emotions.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Natasha huffs. “She felt like a burden, and an inconvenience and whatever else, I know all that. But she wasn’t Wanda, she wasn’t a burden to me. She was my friend and I loved her.”

The witch places a reassuring arm around the assassin’s shoulders.

“She didn’t give me the chance to try and help her. She just left me.” The Russian cries. “She didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I know.” Wanda whispers. “I know and miss her too.”

They sit in silence as the minutes pass and the rain slows down, allowing the sun the chance to peek through the clouds, leaving a rainbow in its wake.

“Nat, it’s time to go.” Wanda whispers after a few more minutes.

“No.” the redhead responds, shaking her head. “I don’t want to leave her.”

“We’ll come see her again soon, I promise.”

Natasha contemplates for a moment before she gives a reluctant, but hopeful nod before moving to her knees.

She leans forward and presses a kiss to your headstone.

Once again tracing her fingers over the engravings.

Auntie. Sister. Daughter. Friend.

“I love you.” She whispers, leaning back slightly before standing up, turning away, and making a move towards the car and as if on que the wind blows and the sun beams on her.

She knows it’s you and she knows you’re with her.

Smiling contently, she opens the car door and climbs in.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’ve not been to see you in a while.” Natasha says solemnly

“It’s been tough, but we’ve cracked it.” Natasha says, laying the flowers down. “We’ve cracked time travel.”

“We’re going to fix it and we’re going to bring everyone back.” She notes with hope in her voice.

“I won’t be able to come see you again for a while, because once we do this there will be a lot of clean up.”

With a quick glance at her watch.

“I have to go now, but I promise that once the girls are back, we’ll come see you.”

Placing a kiss to the stone, she whispers an ‘I love you’ before turning and walking away.

…

“You know your teams. You know your missions. Look out for each other.”

Natasha smiles at one of her best and oldest friends before speaking.

“See you in a minute.”

Natasha wakes to the sun beaming down on where she is, lying on the grass, surrounded by daisies and there is a beautiful rainbow in the sky.

Sitting up to try and gather her surroundings, she notices a lake. A calm lake, home to some ducks and maybe fish, she’s not too sure.

She hopes there’s fish, they’ve always bought her a sense of joy.

Smiling to herself, she stands up and makes a move to brush the grass of her clothes, freezing when she hears a voice.

“I didn’t expect you to come after me so soon.”

That voice. She’d recognise that voice anywhere.

It had been so long since she heard it. Six years, three months, and seventeen days to be exact.

It was sweet, like honey. Pure and angelic. It was your voice.

Taking a deep breath, she turns around and looks upon your face.

“I’ve missed you, darling.” You smile at her.

The cheeky goddam half smile.

She stands, frozen, her vision becoming blurry with tears. It’s been so long since she’s heard that name.

Tentatively she inches forward. Ensuring she moves as slowly as possible; in case any sudden movements cause you to disappear, because she’s dreaming.

She must be dreaming.

Raising a hand up to your face, hesitating slightly before she cups your cheek and strokes her thumb over the apple.

You’re real. You’re here. She can feel you. She can hear your heartbeat. She can see the life in your eyes.

A beat passes before she launches herself into your arms.

She’s crying and you can feel her tears on your skin and the warmth of her arms around you.

God how you’ve missed her.

“You left me.” She says, voice cracking with every emotion. “You left me all alone. Why would you do that? I needed you.”

“I’m sorry, darling.” You whisper.

She pulls away and looks deep in your eyes. “It’s really you.”

“You shouldn’t be here Nat, it’s too early.” You say looking at her with empathy.

The redhead doesn’t respond, but rather ducks her head away from your gaze.

“What did you do?”

“I had to save them. I had to bring them back.” She admits.

She proceeds to tell you how Thanos snapped half the world away and how she was alone for such a long time until they found a way to go back in time and collect the infinity stones and reverse his damage.

She and Clint were tasked to go to Vormir and collect the Soul Stone.

She never made it back.

…

“Damn you!” Clint says as he clings onto his best friend’s hand.

“Let me go.” Natasha says looking up at the archer.

“No. Please don’t.” he begs.

“It’s okay.”

The redhead gives him a sad smile before kicking off from the cliff and breaking his hold on her hand.

She can see him calling out for her, but she can’t hear him.

All she can hear is the laughter of her friends, her family. She can see their smiles in her mind’s eye.

She smiles to herself, knowing that they’ll be okay and that her sacrifice is not in vain because she knows they’ll win, and she knows that her family will be back together and stronger than ever.

Closing her eyes, she drifts off into a peaceful sleep and welcomes death as an old friend.

…

“I don’t even know if it worked.” She whispers.

“What do you feel in here?” you ask, placing your hand gently over her heart.

She looks down at your hand and smiles before answering. “I think it worked.”

You both sit on the grass in comfortable silence.

She’s caught you up on her life over the past years, told you about Wanda and Vision and their whirlwind romance. About the beauty of Wakanda. Explained how Yelena discovered a love for vests.

She told you about how your nephew had grown and how his dream was to be a hero. She told you how you’d be so proud of him and you couldn’t help the grin that formed on your face at the thought of your favourite little person.

A couple of minutes pass before she speaks up again.

“Why did you leave me?” she asks looking out over the lake.

You knew this question was coming. You knew she wanted answers.

You knew she needed answers.

“It was time for me to go.” You whisper.

She shakes her head vigorously before speaking up.

“We had such an amazing day. And you were smiling and laughing.” She rushes out. “It wasn’t your time.”

She turns to you and looks deep into your soul and her eyes are glistening with unshed tears, but you can’t find it in you to respond so all you can offer is a sad knowing smile.

Realisation is quick to hit her.

“You knew.” she accuses. “You knew what you were going to do. You planned it. You knew you weren’t going to see me again.”

You close your eyes, blinking away your own tears, the guilt consuming you.

“That was your way of saying goodbye, because you knew that would be the last time, I ever saw you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You could have come to me. You could have called.” Tears are openly running down her face. “I never would have been annoyed with you.”

“I’m so sorry I let you down.” She cries.

“No, Natasha, you didn’t. You were so good to me.” You reassure her, taking her hands in your own. “You couldn’t have loved me better and you were the most amazing friend.”

“I had the best time with you that day and I was really happy. Genuinely happy and I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like that, and I didn’t want that feeling to go away. I didn’t want to go back to feeling nothing.”

“I wanted my last memories to be good ones and my gosh they were Nat, they were.” You smile and take a deep, satisfying breath. “And they were because I was with you.”

The Russian breaks into a sob and you can only pull her close in a poor effort to try and console her.

It takes her several minutes to calm down, but once she does, she speaks again.

“I loved you, you know. I loved you so much.”

Wiping her tears away with your thumb, you give her your signature half smile before speaking.

“And I loved you.”

“I – I can’t forgive you for leaving me, but I understand”

You choose not to respond but rather you place a soft kiss to her forehead and whisper, “dance with me, darling.”

You make your way into the clearing and give her your cheeky grin.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

Remembering this scene all too well, Natasha lets out a watery laugh.

“Shall I stay, would it be a sin. For I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

The Black Widow stands up and slowly makes her way over to where you’re twirling on the spot.

“Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things, are meant to be”

Extending your hand out to her, you continue with your rendition, “take my hand, take my whole life too.”

She reaches out to you, intertwining your hands and pulling herself into you.

She wraps her arms around you and rests her head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, ensuring to catch your scent.

You deposit a kiss to her hairline, as you both sway along to the silence.

“For I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

Note: I have read this a thousand times and I cannot decide whether it’s decent or not. Apologies if it is terrible, or if people don’t like it, but I promise that I do have something fluffy and worthwhile almost completed.

GIF not mine.

@lostandsearching

#marvel #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #reader imagine #reader insert #natasha romanoff x reader #Avengers

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thisissirius · 3 years

Text

writing this on my phone because it’s how i roll

breathe eddie/buck, THAT CLIP

Buck gets the call while he’s at work.

It’s from the hospital and he’s hitting answer before he’s really thought about it. “Hello?”

“Mr. Buckley?”

“Yeah,” Buck says breathlessly, and he knows they have to confirm, but he just needs to know what’s going on.

“My name’s Maria and I’m calling because we have an Edmundo Diaz who’s been admitted.”

Buck says, “Eddie,” and then realises what she’s saying. “Is he okay? What happened?”

Heads around the room pick up, but Buck ignores them, focusing back on Maria, who’s tone has softened. “Mr. Diaz was brought in with a suspected heart attack,” Buck can’t breathe, presses a hand to his chest and thinks no, please, not after, “—and his son is here.”

“Oh,” Buck feels adrift. “I’ll be right there?”

“Perfect,” Maria says, as if Buck’s not ignored most of what she’s said. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Buckley.”

Buck hangs up the phone, meets Bobby’s eyes slowly. “That was the hospital—Eddie’s been admitted and I need to see him, I have to get there.”

“Alright,” Bobby says slowly. “Call me, you understand?”

Already moving towards the stairs, Buck nods, mind stuck on a loop of heart attack, heart attack, heart attack.

_______________________

“It was a panic attack,” Ana informs him in the waiting room.

Buck ignores her, not meaning to be rude, but Chris is there and he’s sat in a chair like he’s trying to get smaller, so Buck pulls him into a hug and lets Chris cry, face tucked into Buck’s neck.

Sitting down next to them, Ana reaches over, touches Chris’ shoulder. “It’s just a panic attack.”

It’s not just a panic attack, Buck wants to snap. He keeps the words trapped behind his teeth, tells Chris he’s gonna find out where Eddie is, and dodges the hand Ana tries to catch him with. “What?”

“Eddie doesn’t want to see anyone—”

“I don’t care,” Buck says, crouching down in front of Chris. “You stay with Miss. Flores okay? I’ll be right back.”

Chris rubs at his face and Buck waits for him to readjust his glasses. “Promise?”

Holding out his pinky, Buck looks serious. “I promise.”

Following the Buckley secret promise, Chris hooks their little fingers together.

_______

Leaning against the doorjamb, Buck watches Eddie’s. He’s not been noticed yet, Eddie too preoccupied with staring down at his paper work, brows furrowed into a scowl.

“You gotta stop ending up here, man.”

Eddie closes his eyes briefly. “They shouldn’t have called you.”

“They actually said you were having a heart attack,” Buck says lightly, though his chest constricts. “As much as I wanna say I’m glad it’s only a panic attack, I bet you’re not.”

That self-deprecating look on Eddie’s face is one Buck’s become well acquainted with. “Chris was right there. He was shouting for me and I couldn’t even do anything.”

Buck sits next to him on the bed, leaving space between them because he doesn’t know how to exist in Eddie’s space now they’re not living together. “Eddie—”

“I’m his father,” Eddie says, and his face is stricken when he turns to look at Buck. “I thought I was dying and that I’d leave him in some stupid suit warehouse.”

“Listen to me,” Buck says, because this isn’t his first rodeo and he knows exactly how far Eddie can spiral when he gets on his I’m a terrible father kick, which is stupid. “If I thought for one second you were a terrible father, I’d tell you so.”

Eddie huffs. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have to,” Buck points out, nudging his elbow into Eddie. “You’d see it all over my face. Look at me.”

Eddie doesn’t.

“Eddie,” Buck presses, reaching over to grab Eddie’s arm. “Look at me.”

Slowly, Eddie raises his eyes, biting at the inside of his cheek as he does.

“You’re a great father. Chris loves you and yeah, you had a panic attack.” Buck squeezes Eddie’s arm. “Chris won’t hold it against you. He’s worried and yeah, it must have scared him to see you like that, but it doesn’t make you a bad father.”

Letting out a breath, Eddie ducks his head. He doesn’t try and move away from Buck, though, so Buck keeps his hand where it is. Silence falls, and Buck tries not to think too hard about where they are; how often they’ve been back for scans and check-ups and everything in between. Tries not to think about the blood on his hands, all over Eddie.

“I looked at Ana,” Eddie admits quiet, pulling Buck into the moment. “All day it’s been a lot and ever since,” he trails off, and Buck doesn’t need him to elaborate, “and I just couldn’t do it, couldn’t handle being there, or what’s been happening, and I—”

“Easy,” Buck says, finally moving on the bed so that he can shift closer to Eddie, to reach over and grab his other arm. “Deep breaths, Eddie.”

“Fuck that,” Eddie snaps, tugging out of Buck’s grasp and onto his feet. “I can’t do this, I can’t have panic attacks. I don’t have time, I need to do—”

Buck stops him mid rant, a hand on his chest, using what little height he’s got on Eddie to keep him still. “Eddie,” he snaps, “this isn’t something you can ignore!”

“Why not?” Eddie snaps in return, and Buck pauses, sees Eddie’s expression shift, the pain he’s trying not to show. “Why can’t I just be done?”

“You were shot,” Buck says, voice shaky. Eddie opens his mouth, closes it, and Buck shifts his hand to neck, keeps him in place. “It’s not, there’s things, you can talk to me.”

Eddie swallows, leans into Buck’s touch, closing his eyes. “I can’t.”

“Please,” Buck says, breathless. “I want to help, Eddie, and I can’t if you don’t tell me.”

“I can’t,” Eddie whispers. “Not because,” he continues, looking Buck in the eye, “not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know, I don’t know—”

Buck nods, pulls Eddie in for a hug. Eddie steps into it, arms coming up around Buck’s waist. He’s the perfect height, Buck thinks, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s temple. He’s not done it since, well since he left the Diaz house. Since Ana and— “Ana’s still here.”

Eddie sighs, the huff barely audible. His voice, when it comes, is muffled. “She’s with Chris?”

“I didn’t wanna bring him back here,” Buck admits, finally pulling away. “Not when I didn’t know.”

“Yeah.” Eddie runs a hand over his face. “What now?”

Buck wants to say we find Chris, take him home, I beg Bobby to cut me from the shift and we watch dumb movies all afternoon. Ana is out there, though, and he’s made a promise to stay away, to give them space, so he settles on, “I don’t know.”

_________________

Ana offers to drive Chris and Eddie home.

Buck doesn’t have a reason to refuse so he pastes a smile on his face and bends down to hug Chris again. “I gotta get back to work, buddy.”

“But,” Chris starts. “You’re not staying?”

“I can’t,” Buck says, the same time Ana says, “There’s no need.”

Buck covers his irritation by promising Chris he’ll come by soon and they can catch up on all the movies they still need to watch. When he stands, wincing at the pain in his knee, he catches Eddie’s eye. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “After your shift?”

“Oh,” Ana says. “I thought we were going out?”

Eddie frowns, confused, and something in Buck’s chest gives when he says, “were we?”

It’s instinct to reach out, curl his fingers around Eddie’s wrist. “You alright?”

There’s a beat. “Yeah,” Eddie says, but he’s still frowning. “Come over.”

“Eddie,” Ana presses.

“Ana, please,” Eddie says, sounding as exhausted as he looks.

An awkward silence settles that Buck decides to break. “Alright, I’ll be there.”

Relief drags Eddie’s shoulders down, and he smiles, soft and strained, but there. “Thanks.”

Ana looks upset, busying herself with Chris’ coat. It’s on the tip of Buck’s tongue to say he can do it, but he’s already causing a problem.

“Hey,” Eddie says, twisting his wrist until he’s squeezing Buck’s fingers. “Thanks for being here. For later. I miss,” he trails off, gives Buck a wry smile. “I kinda miss having you around.”

“I’m still here, Eddie,” Buck promises, trying not to look at Ana. “I’m always gonna be here.”

Eddie nods, eyes drifting to Chris, to Ana, then back to Buck. Something in his expression softens. “You always have been.”

It’s almost a question and Buck frowns. “You alright?”

“Not right now,” Eddie admits, and it’s a lot, that look on his face, the admission. “But I will be. As long as you mean it.”

“Always,” Buck says.

“Pinky promise on it!” Chris says, and Buck startles, not aware of their audience. He deliberately doesn’t acknowledge the knowing look on Ana’s face, the resignation.

“Alright,” Buck allows, holding up his pinky. At Eddie’s raised eyebrow, he grins. “A Buckley tradition.”

“Oh,” Eddie says on a laugh. He links their pinkies together, eyes crinkling in that way Buck loves, the smile soft and warm.

Buck’s chest is tight, his heart beating wildly in his chest. “I promise to always be here.”

“Good,” Eddie says.

There’s a promise of his own in the weight of the word.

#fic by me #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fic #911 spoilers

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4dtk · 3 years

Note

heloo! can I request hand-holding (3), kisses (6, 12) hugs (32) and touching (12) with renjun, thank uu^^

why do my renjun drabbles always end up so long LOL . btw age old kiss under the mistletoe <3 never too early for x’ams imagines i guess LOL, enjoy!!!

hand-holding, 3: cold hands in warm hands

hugs, 32: long-lasting hugs

kisses, 6 & 12: slow kisses, kisses on the corner of their mouth

touching, 12: pushing a strand of hair behind their ear

renjun’s eyes couldn’t leave yours. well, more of your body as you talked with mark, gesturing grandly about his new single that he dropped. he remembers you playing it whenever you met up, rapping the lyrics back to him that only had renjun groaning in embarrassment. staring around the room, he scans over the members in the party with a smile. having had taken a rest from the all the alcohol earlier, he was glad to be left alone to his… indulgences where no one could interrupt him.

“hey.”

“gah! wh- what the hell?” haechan shocks him out of his stupor, easily avoiding a smack on the back from renjun. his laughter gains attention from others, but otherwise they just return a cheeky laugh back while conversing. soon, the other is able to pick up on his loneliness, partially blaming it on the crazy challenge he dared renjun to do earlier. the partial reason, however..

“are you ever going to confess to (y/n)?” haechan raises a brow.

“keep it down! christ, hyuck. just because some members here have their partners on their arms doesn’t mean i should rush to make (y/n) mine.”

“oh, but you’re so obvious that it’s tiring to watch,” haechan sighs, taking a swig of his drink. the both of them admire the theme of the party for a little bit, red and green decorations hung from the spacious dorm, held on the fifth floor because they were the ‘cleanest’ (against jungwoo’s wishes and with kun’s agreement, they settled for an early celebration on the 23rd).

the speakers blasted christmas music, no doubt from the talented mr. bublé who was a compulsory artist to listen to, along with other renditions of christmas songs that just felt good. fairy lights from the members’ rooms were brought to be set up. plus, with ten’s recent sunset light purchase that he bought for the felines, the room was soon bathed in joyous lighting that could rival decorations outside.

“dude. the members had to have their partners fly in because they’re both so busy. (y/n)’s already there, c’mon the opportunity is right there — and this is the one time you’re able to unwind and relax. just go for it, man,” haechan is relaxed and laid-back, haven’t yet experienced the palpitations whenever one looks at their crush. the only exception was probably a rookie idol back then, but that was old news.

“if you happen to want to cuddle or fuck later, we’ll leave you alone.” this time, renjun was able to land a punch to his shoulder, expression turned into a scowl.

“you’re right, i guess. i’ll see what i can do.”

a gasp, “renjun admitting i’m right? rare.” renjun gives the other a lighter smack with a smile, chugging down the last bit of his water before heading over to you. he feels like he’s walking through snow whenever he wants to get to you, the resistance strong with each step. curling and uncurling his fingers, he loosened his freezing hands as you wrap up the conversation with mark.

“renjun! have a good rest? donghyuck was trying to avoid you for the past fifteen minutes, because he knew you’d get another headache if he talked to you.”

“i’m having one right now,” renjun jokes, emphasising his point by rubbing some fingers on his temple.

your laugh is like first snow. or like the heater that’s currently fuelling the house with heat. he isn’t sure what to choose, but he knows he likes it and wants to make you laugh more.

“do you need to rest again? i’ll promise i’ll be quiet-“

“delivery?” someone calls out. with a shout, you’re already at the door, receiving another batch of booze since the grocery shopping you went on earlier severely underestimated how much these boys can drink. “oh- uh-“ renjun swoops in like prince charming, hand brushing over yours while he steps forward to help you. they tingle like electricity, deciding against pulling away which would leave you to struggle.

“miss (l/n) (y/n) and mr huang renjun. please freeze in your place,” haechan’s annoying voice penetrates throughout all the conversation happening and you swear the man beside you mutters a curse as you two try to haul the booze past the member. “place the beer down. you aren’t going anywhere, anyway.”

before any of you can ask for an explanation, he points above you which displayed a mistletoe. “surprise!”

the delivery man’s voice scares you, until you realise it’s johnny, hidden under a very smart disguise of a fake moustache and a replica of the uniform. your mouth hangs open even when johnny squeezes past you with the booze effortlessly hanging from one arm, sighing inaudibly at the absence of the heavy drinks.

“so?” the members are looking at you expectedly like they’re watching a movie. there’s endless thoughts swirling in your mind even when renjun grabs your hand with his timid one, but it calms you down just a little when he brushes a thumb over your skin. it’s like you’re waiting for the director to yell out ‘cut!’; even you thought you’d do better on a movie set.

“(y/n)-“

he’s cut off by your lips crashing onto his, garnering a few ooohs and ahhs, including the satisfied smiles and sighs of relief. renjun’s lips taste like a mixture of the candy cane drink he spat out earlier, and some whiskey with coke. it’s a confusing taste, but with the pace your lips are moving with each other, it allows you to draw out every other time you imagined kissing huang renjun.

it doesn’t even come close, if you’re being honest and even if you’re standing in front of countless other men he calls his members in a ridiculously sized k-pop group. renjun deepens the kiss when he turns his head, cold, but clammy hands coming up the cup your cheeks. they shock you for just a bit and there’s a shameless smile into the kiss as renjun continues to deliver pecks onto your own.

he chuckle and it sounds like well-written christmas movies, or the very first listen to michael bublé’s christmas album. you aren’t sure what to choose, but you know you like it and want to make him chuckle more.

in a blink of an eye, you’ve grabbed his hand, heading straight for one of the rooms that you often see when renjun’s gaming with haechan. you recognise it straight away from the set-up and in a rush to shut the door, you stumble just a bit before meeting the hard wood of the door in a roar of laughter.

“great, now they’ve locked two people out,” haechan nudges johnny.

“three!” johnny’s partner calls from the doorway, which makes the living room shake in another round of cheers, getting back into the natural flow of things before everything got interrupted by a plant. faintly, you hear them ask if the plan worked, and haechan’s prideful answer right after.

slowly, you peek out of your hiding spot being your hands. renjun’s eyes shine, “so you like me.” it comes out flatter than he expected and he winces.

you snort, taking a step closer to him on the door, half leaning on it. without any prompting, the other’s arms encircle your waist, now pulling you flush against him while your head rest on his front. the next moments are spent in comfortable silence, the rowdy party going on outside giving you a little of a main character moment. your breathing syncs up, chest expanding and contracting with the deep breaths you take. there’s always a puff of mist leaving your lips, but it appears less now that you’re in your crush’s arms.

“yeah. i like you,” you nod, coming to face him after the tight embrace. his fingers touch your cheek experimentally and you flinch, the pads freezing cold to the touch. maybe it’s because he didn’t touch whiskey for the past half ’n hour. gently, you take his hands in yours. “why’re you always freezing?”

“ugh. you figured me out. tactic to get you to hold my hands.” throwing your head back in a silent laugh, you shake your head in disbelief.

“at least you haven’t caught on to me, holding your hands down so you won’t have to-” a kiss to one corner of his mouth. “restrict me from-” another to the other. “doing this.” lastly to his lips.

renjun entertains your dramatic flair with his jaw hung open. it doesn’t last long, though. “why would i restrict you from doing that?” you shrug, letting go of his hands now that they gained sufficient warmth. renjun silently decides it’s not enough, but first, he wants to kiss you again. his fingers are less freakishly cold now, brushing against your skin to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. it sits there obediently, dissimilar with the way you did it. ‘it always falls out!’ you want to tell him later, but first, you want to kiss him again.

“huang renjun, you drive me crazy.” grinning, renjun knows it’s your way of confessing before his lips collide with yours with the fervour that hallmark movies lacked, and ironically, a plot which hallmark movies embodied. and just like that, you wish you could hold a pause icon over your head, because you wanted this to last for as long as it could.

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