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miguel-ohara-wifey · 9 months

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Spiderverse men and pet names Headcanons

Rating: 18+, Angst, Fluff, Hurt + Comfort

Tag list; @mcondance I know u like Hobie and Miguel so :3

Peter B. Parker

Honey

-Peter calls you something familiar to him as a New Yorker. He’s heard it all his life, it’s always a word for literal honey or your partner.

-He calls you honey in front of strangers, family, and friends. When he enters the privacy of your home, cuddling on the couch, sharing a shower, playfully fighting over the last slice of pizza.

-It’s also during praise, when you get that promotion at work. When you beat him at a game, when you’re just an excited puppy at a movie or show finally releasing. Just the gleam of life painting your Iris’s is enough to have him say honey.

-You two have had your fair share of squabbles over money, time, kids, etc. Even as the phrase shot from his mouth sandwiched by yelling and his lost temper. It’s a display he still loves you. He’ll still call you something soft and sweet when you’re screaming at him over his mistakes.

-Right before leaving to have your phone fixed like he promised beforehand. When he orders your favorite burger he writes “I’m sorry honey” in ketchup at the top of the cardboard box it came in. It doesn’t repair what was said, what he had done to provoke it. But you internalize he’s not willing to end your relationship over it. He’ll work on himself and you to keep it that way.

-Even at his worst, at your worst, and when the worlds at its worst. You’ll always be his honey. Only not when you will no longer have him.

Miguel O’Hara

Bebita

-Miguel’s a private man. He calls you bebita in form of a whisper when your mouths are breaths apart. When it’s you in his bed, in his arms, in complete domestic retreat from your usual lives.

-In your usual lives he’s as dismissively unemotional as always, there’s always a hint of his affection for you regardless. But his wall is up, and you know from experience no one can climb over unless he allows them.

-His tight ass professionalism outside of your home can crumble however. When he gets so desperate and touch starved. He’ll call you to his office under the lie of needing a copy of a report. Only for him to be on you as soon as the door closes behind you. Bebita leaving his mouth as your clothes leave your bodies.

-Not just during sex either, when he’s shaking under the covers of your bed. Waking him from his nightmare, he calls out bebita in the temporary mental fog of suddenly being awake. You huddle his head onto where your neck and shoulders connected. Big spooning him to calm his heart in his ribcage, still racing from what he saw and felt.

-When you know how to calm his worse instincts, he’d never harm you. But when he’s close to harming others in his anxiety driven rage. The softest slide of your hand on his chest stops him dead in his tracks.

-How Miguel can look at your image on a screen, briefly catches you going about your day around HQ. The word pleasantly swims in his head at the very sight of you. His whole body tenderly tugged into a bubble of warmth, Bebita.

Hobie Brown

Love

-The first instance was honest to god an accident. He runs on chaos after all, so did your relationship less so afterword however. He wasn’t in a rush to label what you two had. Truthfully he didn’t know what you two had, but he was never one to lean into certainty or a defined purpose.

-He’s punched armies of cops, Nazi’s, and fascists; preformed on stage in front of millions. All without a drop of anxiety entering his system. But somehow the possible dislike from you about him calling you love. Was so terrifying in the moment between both events. His heart sunk down into his gut, squeezing at his insides until your response.

-But you loved it, you loved him, it was love what you two had. He couldn’t be more elated. He’s had a noticeable pep in his step following. Quite eagerly calling you love in front of anyone and everyone you knew. Just to get the message across.

-Not out of insecurity, but it’s the excitement of a kid making there first best friend. He just absolutely had to make everyone aware. Even the cop/Nazi/fascist he was punching in the face he had to punctuate love as he called out to you punching your own cop/Nazi/fascist in the face.

-It was the hottest thing when you called him love draped in his sleeveless Jean jacket. It was littering the floor moments later as he compelled another noise complaint from his downstairs neighbors.

#peter b parker x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderverse #headcanons #18+#spiderverse headcanons #spiderverse hcs #hcs #spider punk #Spider-Man 2099 #Spider-Man

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fayeforrosie · 8 months

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Blooming For You

Part 5

Karina x Fem! Reader

Today was finally the day Karina could confess her everlasting feelings for you, but there's always something in the way

Part 5 to The Only One I Want

Warnings- Swearing, angst if you read upside down with sunglasses

Word Count- like 3k maybe i forgor

“And when I’m with you, I almost feel like I’m a different person. It’s like I can just be myself without the worry of disappointing my audience and those who support me. I’ve never felt this way before, and before meeting you, I would have never guessed I would be able to experience such protruding feelings. So, Y/n... with all of this said... I would love it if I could take you out sometime, not as a friend, but as your girlfriend.”

Karina stood tall, shoulders high as her chin pointed proudly. She took a breath as her gaze had yet to fall, the corners of her lips threatening to upturn against her better judgement.

“Um no thanks”, Ningning glared back at Karina, her face conveying pure disgust as her eyebrows dipped lower than her rolled eyes.

“Ning that’s not helping!” The leader shouted, reaching over to connect her two hands into the youngest member’s shoulders, pushing her back as she almost fell off of the side of the bed.

Ningning laughed, wiping the fake tears that were apparently spilling from her eyes, pretending to hold her stomach as if her laughter was corrupting her airway.

“I’m sorry I'm sorry... it sounds great Karina. I know you’ve been practicing so don’t worry about it, okay? Just be natural, who is she to say no to you if you’re just being yourself?”

Karina took a breath, calming herself down and putting her mind at ease. Ning was right, she told herself, you’ve been nothing but welcoming of Karina ever since she met you. Everything you’ve done for her, from tutoring the idol and supporting her goal to become a fine artist like yourself, to becoming a friendly face in which Karina never had to wonder if you would be there for her as a friend, physically and emotionally.

So why was she worried?

Well for one, you are the only person Karina believed she could ever fall in love with. You were almost too perfect to be real, as if Karina were to rip a sheet of paper off of her undusted scrap journal and jot down a list of things that would make the ideal significant other.

Maybe in the past, Karina would leave the sheet blank, unable to come up with any feature or trait that could create the perfect person for her, as she believed that there could be nobody she would fall for, and she will never experience such a thing, but now, Karina is for certain that you are the very, and only, girl that she wishes for.

“Ok... I’m gonna do it Ning”, Karina pumps her first in the air, lips sealed together in certainty.

“I believe in you Rina! Go get ‘em!”

In your art room, sensing goosebumps arise on your skin as you walk over to clothes the blinds of the window, you hum to yourself the rhythm of the faint noise of one of Aespa’s song, Lucid Dream.

Before ever meeting Jimin, you had seen her face plastered on every building, her smile persisting you in every makeup ad across the street, becoming exceedingly memorable. Nevertheless, you weren’t exactly familiar with who she was as a person, although fans necessarily haven’t a clue on who their idol is behind camera, you were antithetical to those who have her birth chart, shoe size, and coffee order memorized.

Sure, you’ve seen people doing one of her group’s dance challenge out on the street, or the sound of her songs playing in a local café, however her music was not something you were exactly acquainted to.

Now, Jimin has become a close friend of yours, visiting you nearly every day, to the best of her ability, and not only working hard to better her artistic capability, but even becoming comfortable enough to come in some days, too tired from work, and simply rest her fatigued body on your arm and make conversation with you for the remainder of your class.

She had recently found out that you weren’t one to listen to her music, as you enjoyed more Western artists, with the exception of Twice, which she was a bit offended by, so she took it upon herself to introduce you to her entire discography, lasting longer than you’d be fond off.

When Jimin played the song you were hearing at this moment, it instantly caught your attention, and when she observed the angelic and beautiful smile painted across your face, your eyes squinting in attentiveness, she promised herself she’d work on more songs that would have relevance to your taste.

The song ended, along with your night, so you waltzed your way to your desk, readying yourself to head back home. Jimin was supposed to come over for a class today, but she cancelled only an hour ago as she was stuck wasting her time at work, her words not yours.

It saddened you, because candidly you found pleasure in her presence, you enjoy when she is next to you, her soft voice carrying through the light atmosphere, soft music in the background as you soak yourself in the moment. It was something you found yourself looking forward to, and in fact, you sought Karina was only thing on your mind recently.

You thought of her before you went to bed, snuggling yourself in the warmth of your blanket, wondering what it would feel like if her arms were to just slowly wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to her body.

You thought of her when you were driving, imagining her in the passenger seat, a smirk displayed on her mouth as she put on her own group’s music, laughing when you roll your eyes and tell her you’ve listened to it about a hundred times now.

Maybe you were delusional, but you thought of her in ways that a friend, or a co-worker, or an art teacher should never feel for another someone. She haunted you, appearing in your dreams just when you thought you could finally go a few hours free of the girl running circles around your mind.

And unbeknownst to you, Karina felt the exact same way, possibly in a more obsessive, delusional, love-sick way.

So Jimin found herself ogling down at her feet as they swiftly moved across the pavement of the sidewalk, her cap atop her head, while her hood rested above it as well, and her mask pulled to the tip of her nose. The light patter of the rain played over in her muffled ears, masking the ringing voices of chatter throughout the street. Karina thought she had hope tonight, as it was raining and not many people would be out in the city, but that was evidently proved to be inaccurate, the constant shoving against her covered arm serving as more evidence.

As she finally reaches the end of the street, glancing up to see the familiar building she has come to love only a few blocks down, she smiles and rushes over, only to see you walking out of the very door she was running to.

Her stomach twisted into a bundle of nerves. She isn’t prepared, but it needs to be done, or she’ll go mad.

“Y/n!” She yells, her hood falling with the intensity of her speed, her poster tucked under her hoodie, sheltering it from the rain that began to pour heavier.

You turn at the sound of the neighborly voice, accustomed to the sound of it, and you flash a smile before you could even glance in her direction, thinking you weren’t going to see her today.

“Jimin!”

“I need to talk to y-”

That’s when a few men revealed themselves from behind an empty alleyway, their cameras shown proudly in their hands as they hastily began taking shots of the idol running desperately to you. This wasn’t a good image for her, she couldn’t be seen like this. Jimin had always been seen as such an admirable adult by her company, abiding by the rules, doing as they asked, not as a girl who would sneak out often to chase around a girl she was in love with.

And the public? What would they say when the rumors arise about her chasing a girl in the rain with a giant poster under her hoodie? And if the company releases a statement that she was not supposed to even be out at the moment, and she was disobeying the rules? The public would ruin her.

It was all too many thoughts at once, Jimin felt a rush of anxiety wave over her body, freezing at the sight of the paparazzi and what they could do to her, so she allowed them to assume control over her, running in the opposite direction of you into the most secluded area she could find, loosing the paparazzi in the process.

Your smile abruptly dropped, heart coming to a standstill while you thought of what had just happened.

Jimin was racing over to meet you after hours, dressed silently and reserved so nobody could recognize her, but the camera men knew. She was caught in the act of only talking to you, so why was it such a problem that she had to run away from you? Was she embarrassed to be friends with you? Did she not want the public to see that she was with someone who wasn’t as famous as her?

Your anger rose, but in spite of that, what got you the best was the overwhelming sadness consuming your emotions. Who were you to think someone so popular and loved would ever want to even be seen with you? And you thought of her in a romantic aspect? Hah! You’re embarresed for yourself more than anything.

“Fucking bitch, I fucking knew it. Who am I to even...”, you trail off in your thoughts on your way back to your apartment. It was a close enough distance to walk, and for all that it was raining, and you had yet to buy an umbrella for yourself over the years, so your stuck with your drenched hair swirling down bellow your eyes, blurring your vision.

“Fuck!” You shout, kicking an innocent rock adjacent to your foot. Everything seemed to agitate you in the moment. You couldn’t focus when all you could think about was how the girl you liked was precisely unsettled with the thought of being seen with you in the public view.

Your phone rang in your pocket once again, and you ignored her calls like the last fourteen times, rolling your eyes when your infuriating ringtone once again pervaded your ear drums. You seriously need some sleep.

You feel another text from her come through, so you finally had enough and raised the phone from your jeans, entering your password and looking for her contact, and that’s when you notice the numerous texts sent over the past half hour you’ve been apart.

Y/n i’m so sorry

I didn’t expect something like that to happen

I didn’t mean to run off on you like that I promise.

It was exactly what you had expected her to send... you scroll further.

Y/n?

Please answer

I know you walk home and I didn’t see you holding an umbrella

Are you home safe?

Please respond

I’m worried

I hope you aren’t mad at me

At least let me know your safe

Y/n?

You could get really sick

Seriously please answer

I’m going to your house

Eyes widening, you through your phone back into your pocket and speed down the sidewalk hastily. You didn’t understand why she’d act so worried about you as if she hadn’t entirely ran off on you in response to her own shame. Who does she even think she is? You seriously don’t understand this woman.

You rush across the street when you finally see her tall figure standing underneath the sheltered doorway. She doesn’t notice your presence yet, so you fix your appearance slightly and walk sternly down to her, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her to face you.

“What the fuck was that?” You yell.

Jimin spins to you promptly against her will, flinching at your blaring tone at such a late time, especially when it was her first time hearing you raise your voice to that level.

She doesn’t know what to say, suddenly caught off guard by your confrontation. It takes her a while to finally digest the scenery. Your clothes and hair thoroughly soaked head to toe, eyes red as she notices a single near fall down to your chin, or maybe she was mistaking it for the rain, it was hard to tell.

She was saddened by the looks of you, her heart dropping entirely as she thought of how rigorous the walk home must have been. You must be so cold and hungry, if only she could provide you with such things to make you feel better, although you’ve probably already caught a cold by now, unfortunately.

“I-” she stutters, “what do you mean?”

You laugh in her face, almost mocking her.

“What do you mean what do I mean? You completely ran off on me as soon as those guys came over!”

Jimin notices you are still in the rain, so she pulls you under the small roof before she responded.

“You must be so sick Y/n, can we go inside first please?” She begs.

Your eyes squint, wondering if she was only playing with your feelings, acting as if she really cared for your well being. Well, maybe she did, but would she say the same thing with another presence around?

“Like you care Karina.”

Jimin flinches, not only at your tone, but the fact that you called you Karina after continuously calling her by her real name even before the two of you became friends. It was like you knew how to attack her hearts in the perfect place.

“What are you talking about”, Jimin furrows her eyebrows, reaching to hold your arm but you pull away from her.

Your gaze drops, and that is when Karina can finally differentiate your tears from the rain as you raise your head dismally.

“You don’t even understand, do you? I was so excited to see you Karina! I always am! I always fucking look forward to when we can see each other! I look forward to our art classes, and being with you, and seeing your smile brighten when you learn something new! It makes me so happy, seriously! But who am I to even say these types of things to someone like you?”

Jimin is hesitant on which words to focus on, possibly the beginning of a confession, or the last sentence you had dropped like a bomb on her, causing her to furrow her eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what you were getting at. Or maybe she did, and didn’t want to even believe you would think of such a thing.

“Why’d you run away from me?” You cry.

Jimins tears are now racing against yours, following them down to the gravel bellow the two of you.

“Jimin are you embarrassed to be with me? Are you ashamed to be seen with someone like myself?”

She shakes her head repeatedly but allows you to continue, sensing you weren’t done.

“And I was so stupid to even think we had a chance together, how stupid of me to forget that you're an idol, and you’d do anything to protect that perfect fucking image, even running away from those who are close to you.”

Jimin cuts you off before you can go on, sick of the lies spilling from your mouth. She couldn’t handle knowing you felt so wrongly about her feelings.

“Y/n that’s not true! I’m sorry okay!" She shouts, “it took me by surprise, I always get so much anxiety when dealing with things like that! It doesn’t mean I’m ashamed of you, or I’m embarrassed to be seen around you! I...”

Jimin is hesitant to finally show you the poster she’d been fostering on the steps, but she thinks back to what her members had told her, and determined this to be the best, and only time she could do this.

“I wanted to meet you because I wanted to give you this”, she extends her hand out to you, and the poster is a bit wet and unfolded, but you take it in your grip and open it slowly, careful not to rip it.

Your eyes fall on the work of art she created, a beautifully drawn Lillie draped against a similar Carnation. You noticed Jimin implemented every piece of advice you had given her to create such a preposing masterpiece, not missing how she used your favorite flower, as well as hers.

And then you saw what was bellow it... a letter.

Dear Y/n,

Everything is all so sudden to me. I haven’t known you for too long, but that doesn’t matter, because in the time we’ve spent together, I’ve come to realize that the only thing I need in my life is you. I was so, incredibly attracted to you when I first saw you in that art museum, and you wouldn’t believe the things I did to find you (i hope that doesn’t sound weird, haha). You’ve been the only thing on my mind, and when I’m dreaming, I can still imagine your beautiful smile and soft skin. I’ve never been one for romance, but after meeting you, I know my perspective has changed. And when I’m with you, I almost feel like I’m a different person. It’s like I can just be myself without the worry of disappointing my audience and those who support me. I’ve never felt this way before, and before meeting you, I would have never guessed I would be able to experience such protruding feelings. So Y/n, with all of this said, I would love it if I could take you out sometime, not as a friend, but as your girlfriend.

You hadn’t noticed your tear stains dripping onto the paper until you finally raise your gaze to the awaiting beauty before you, biting her lips like an adorable puppy.

“Jimin I..”, you’re at a loss for words. Out of everything that could have been on that poster, you certainly did not expect that. After the recent events that had happened previously, your hope for a future with the girl suddenly fled down the drain, nonetheless here you are with a written confession laying in the palm of your hands

You don’t know what to say, you want to start with an apology, expressing how sorry you were for misinterpreting her feelings and pronouncing her the bad guy. You want to tell her how you feel the same, and that you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather be with than her, but the way her lips pouted in anticipation pained you to no extent.

You walked closer to the girl, reaching for her slippery hand and taking it in yours. Everything is telling you to kiss the worried look right off her face, diminish any negative thoughts she may be having, and so you pull her closer by her hand, now placing your other on her cheek.

Even in the darkness of the night, you can nonetheless perceive the instant flush in the girl’s cheeks, and that’s the last thing you can see before you close your eyes and lean forward, connecting your lips to hers.

Karina’s wintry hand rose to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to her body. You release your grip you had with her other hand, now placing it upon her waist to steady yourself.

Her lips glide against yours with ease, its pillow-like feel easing the dampness of the rain droplets everlasting on her lips. You feel Karina smile as you continue to kiss her, and you do the same, appreciating such a moving moment between the two of you, admiring how it could be the possible start of something beautiful.

It’s not until a while does Karina pull away from you reluctantly.

“You're all wet and freezing babe”, you smile at the pet name, “let’s get you upstairs and into some comfy clothes.”

You smile and nod, agreeing to follow her into your complex, trailing behind her back with your hand in hers as she opens the door to not only the entrance of your apartment, but hopefully the beginning of an irresistible, and beautiful bloom of a relationship.

The long awaited last part ☹️

im rlly sorry for the delay guys, i know that it took a while :(( but i hope you all enjoyed❤️

#kpop #fayeforrosie #kpop imagines #fluff #romance #kpop x reader #aespa #karina #aespa imagines #karina x yn #karina imagines #karina x reader #karina x fem reader #karina aespa #aespa x reader #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin #yu jimin imagines #karina scenarios

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bluebyrd-screaming · 5 months

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I find it fascinating that Venra gave almost everyone a choice in their death, even if they were all doomed from the beginning

She told Perry that it's all better in the moment just before you get everything you want and that he doesn't have to pull the sprinklers. He still makes the choice to turn them on

She told Camille that she doesn't have to go back there, she literally says that she could have killed her in her sleep. She still goes to collect evidence that no one will ever see

She tries to get Leo to buy a different cat, she shows him all of the other options that are suffering and need a home while the black cat already had offers and wasnt for sale to him. He still chose to buy the black cat

She keeps telling Vic that she's worried about the human trials, can she please get confirmation from Ruiz that this experiment is safe, are you sure you want to go through with this. She still chooses to use the mechanical heartbeat

She just keeps telling Tamerlane to get some rest, even after Tammy keeps falling asleep in the middle of conversations and cannot function. She still chooses to go through with Goldbug and attack the voices telling her to rest

She asked Roderick and Madeline if they were sure, from the very beginning asked what they were willing to give up for all of the fame that they could ever want, she gave them the ultimate choice as to their fate. They chose fame and fortune for a short life over a long one with less certainty of money

But she didn't give a choice to everyone

While all of the other children got a choice in how they died, Fredrick didn't. But that's because he had already made his choice. He chose over and over again to be vindictive and hateful, to be drunk on power. He was willing to let his wife suffer just to see what was in her phone and when that didn't work he decided to slowly poison her and finally when he ripped out her teeth, then Venra said "enough". He made his own bed without any input from Venra because she wasn't the one asking him if he was sure, it was Lenore. Lenore asked at every turn if her mom was safe, if she was seeing specialists, if they could go to a fancy facility that could keep her safe. Lenore just wants her mom to be okay, and Frederick decides to rip out Morrie's teeth in anger. So yeah, he made his fucking choice

Lenore didn't. She was the only Usher that was never given a warning about not tempting fate, and that's because she was the only Usher who cared about someone other than their own bottom line. Lenore was sweet, and kind, and wanted to make a difference, so Venra didn't need to ask her if she really wanted to tempt fate. No, she needed to make her comfortable with the inevitability of her end. That her kindness wasn't for nothing. That she didn't go out in a blaze of self destruction like the others. Because Lenore didn't tempt fate, she didn't throw around daddy's money to get everything she could have ever wanted, damn the consequences. No, she died because of a choice that someone else made for her before she was a thought un anyone's mind. She died because someone else didn't care about the consequences of their actions as long as they could be rich and famous in the here and now

Lenore didn't get a choice because neither did any of the victims of the Usher family's rule

They just died as after thoughts, collateral on the way to ultimate power

#the fall of the house of usher #tfothou #death tw #tempting fate #doomed from the start #discussion of death #mike flanagan

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raineandsky · 3 months

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#90

tw: abuse

The hero’s drawn the short straw today. The agency’s gotten a little colder than anyone expected, and he made the mistake of putting his past as an engineer on his CV.

The boiler room isn’t big, really. The agency’s not big enough to warrant any more than two of the things, but one going caput is clearly enough to plunge the place into Arctic temperatures. An easy job, the hero hopes. A quick in-and-out.

He swings the door in, and takes three full steps inside before realising he’s clearly disrupting something. Someone’s sitting on the floor, in the dark, near one of the boilers. He fumbles with the lightswitch, vaguely concerned, and when it finally flicks on he finds that the person he’s disrupting is the villain.

Or the ex-villain, anyway. He’d come here in flurries of broken apologies and begs for mercy. Something had clearly gone wrong with villainy for him to turn up on the agency’s doorstep. They’d let him in, a little begrudgingly, on the pretence that his redemption would come in the form of information. And he did just that—they’ve learnt more about the villains in the month he’s been here than they have in the past year. An asset, and hopefully an ally.

The villain turns away from the lights to wipe at his eyes, and the hero realises he’s disrupted a lot more than he ever wanted to.

“[Villain],” he starts a little awkwardly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” the villain snaps, but the way their voice catches traitorously tells the hero all he needs to know. The hero heard it, and he knows the villain knows that. “Piss off.”

He takes another slow step inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. He thought the agency had been working on the villain’s attitude—maybe not. “Is it something I can help with, at least?”

The villain shakes his head quickly, stifling a slight snivel under his sleeve. It’s a miserable sight. Maybe he just misses home. The agency probably isn’t much like what he’s used to.

The hero squats down in front of the villain as he tries valiantly to make himself as invisible as possible. The villain’s sudden burst of emotion is unnatural—he’s always so brash, so loud, so sure of himself. Even when he came to the agency for protection, there was an underlying certainty that they’d let him in. But this… this is raw. This is genuine.

The villain pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes with a sigh that’s a lot shakier than he probably intended. His sleeves droop with the motion, and the hero finally gets a hint of what’s causing this.

“Jesus Christ, [Villain],” he snaps a little harsher than he means to. He grabs the villain’s wrists before he can realise his mistake. “What the hell happened?”

Uneven splotches of blue and black rise up the villain’s arms, painfully dark against his ghost-white skin. More of them disappear under where his sleeves stop, and the hero has to resist the urge to push them back to look for more.

The villain looks horrified. He makes an attempt to pull his arms back, but the hero’s grip is so anxiously tight that all he does is tug the hero slightly closer to him. “I said it’s nothing,” he snaps. Or tries to, but his voice breaks on the last word and he devolves into tears.

The hero doesn’t know what to do. He simply settles on the floor in front of him and wraps his arms around his shoulders. The villain melts into him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, his face buried into his neck and his hands grasping at the fabric of the hero’s shirt.

The hero’s at a loss for words. He just runs his fingers over the other’s back, quiet comforts whispered between them, until eventually the grief-stricken sobs die down into distant sniffling.

The hero ignores how his heart is twisting at every slight tremble in the villain’s shoulders. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asks quietly.

The villain doesn’t reply for a long moment, and the hero’s starting to think he won’t at all when he finds his voice. “I don’t belong here,” is all he says.

“Of course you do,” the hero says without thinking. “Things have gotten better since you got here, [Villain], you’re not—”

“No—I don’t,” the villain interrupts sharply. His face shifts against the hero to dip his gaze to his arms again, and suddenly it makes sense. “No one wants me here, but I have nowhere else to go.”

Another sob threatens to claw up his throat. The hero tightens his hold on the other reassuringly, rocking both of them slightly as the villain fights off another wave of grief.

The heroes. Of course, how did he not see it? They’ve always sneered at the villain, said their shitty remarks and pushed him around a little. This though—this is a lot lower than the hero ever thought they would ever stoop. His mouth is dry at the obvious conclusion that he somehow didn’t catch this. That he let it happen.

“I want to go home,” the villain continues with broken words, “but I don’t think I have one anymore.”

The hero’s chest tightens uncomfortably at that. He cards a hand idly through the villain’s hair, the action a comfort for himself just as much as the other.

Nothing he can say can possibly alleviate the oppressive pain the villain’s been through here. He just tucks the man into his frame, rests his chin on the top of his head, and thinks about murder.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #tw abuse

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foranpo · 1 year

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ੈ˚☆ 01:06am.

˚ʚ b.stray.dogs. ˚ʚ ranpo. ˚ʚ hurt/little comfort.

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading <3 ──────

"Maybe we're not meant for each other. Maybe in another life, but not in this one."

Your smile was forced, fake, accommodating all the tears that slowly trickled down your face. The anguish of your words was masked with a false certainty that came from within your mind, far from your heart.

You felt trapped, cornered, immobilized by your false belief that you weren't worthy of happiness, you weren't worthy of being loved. A huge storm flooded your heart, consuming your emotions in a sea of despair and pain, the impulsiveness of your words shaking your soul.

Why did you say that?

Why did you let such vile words slip from your lips, thirsting for pain, yearning for the hurt you would cause him?

Why did you allow yourself this vulnerability?

"Why?"

Ranpo's question tore your heart, breaking your soul with the tremors in the syllable of the question, the pain trapped in its pronunciation.

He was about to cry.

"Why do you think that?"

It was difficult to understand Ranpo, his words coming out low to contain his pain, his timbre sounding rough from the heat that had formed so quickly in his throat.

"Can't you see that I belong to you?" he looked at you, red eyes holding back tears, the glow in them threatening to fade if you walked out of his life. "Can't you see that everything I got, everything I am!, is because you're by my side? Can't you see that?"

You were listening to Ranpo, his words, although strong and aggressive, sounded calm and precise, charged with the love that came from his soul, driven by the need to have you by his side. Ranpo spoke clearly, angered by your words, hurt by your thoughts, but determined, completely determined, to show you the reality, all the facts of your history.

"I love you. Now and then. Today and tomorrow. It doesn't matter when, or where. I love you. Purely and simply. I don't care about fates or gods. I don't care if our history is written somewhere or if we've lived it in other lifetimes. What matters to me now is the present. And in the present I love you and I want to be with you. Don't you understand that?"

A pause to take a deep breath, carefully, quickly. Ranpo tried to hold back his tears a little longer as he watched you break down a bit more in front of him, his statements sounding blunt when delivered in his typical calm, logical tone.

"How can you say we're not meant to be together when I need you? How can you say such a thing when I know I could have it all, I could be anything, but I'd be nothing if I didn't have you? Can't you see? That we were meant to be together?"

But he couldn't take it.

Ranpo approached you calmly, afraid to see you refuse his embrace, not knowing what reaction you would have. Ranpo held your hand gently, nervous about the outcome of this argument, unsure of what you were going to do next. Ranpo spoke softly again, confident in his feelings, secure in your actions.

"Our souls may not be made of the same dust. Our conscience may have been corrupted in other lives. But I'm sure, I know, that we were made for each other."

Ranpo brought his forehead to yours, the first tear finally falling, easing some of the anguish that screamed inside him. His eyes closed, silence settling between you for the briefest of moments.

A moment of peace.

A moment of clarity.

Ranpo gently brushed his nose against yours with each murmured word of his, his soft lips passing gracefully over yours, like a ghost greeting you, as if wanting to remove all the malice spoken by you moments before, wanting to exchange it for the hope now given by him. "I love you. For me, that's enough. And for you?"

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated <3 ─────

#;bungou stray dogs constellation;#ranpo x yn #ranpo x y/n #ranpo x you #ranpo x reader #ranpo angst #ranpo fluff #ranpo oneshot #ranpo imagines #bungo stray dogs imagine #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd x reader #bsd imagines

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touyasdoll · 2 years

Text

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝕮𝖆𝖌𝖊

pairing: Hawks/Keigo Takami x gn!reader

word count: 0.9k

warnings: cockwarming, teeny bit of praise kink, soft sex, being wrapped up pretty snug in his wings,

notes: ty to @bakugous-sandbag for thirsting with me about snuggling up by the fire with Keigo & just always indulging/putting up with me in general <3

I am so sickeningly in love with this bird man sdgsdfs

"Be a good bird and move f'me. Just a little, yeah?" Keigo coos into your ear, warm hands exploring every exposed inch of your body, setting your skin ablaze despite the chill trying to seep into the room. The blaze from the roaring hearth and the plush rug beneath you has only helped so much, but this. This is the type of warmth that bleeds into your bones.

You can't help but to obey such a saccharine request. Your hips begin to grind and it feels so good. It's a glorious reward for the both of you after sitting still in his lap for so long, faithfully keeping his member cozy and warm. The way he twitches inside you upon finally discovering some sweet, sweet friction is intoxicating. It spurs you on to see the way it's driving him wild—and you've hardly moved yet.

"That's it, baby. Yeah...jus' like that. Fuck," he curses through grit teeth and you can see his Adam's apple bob, feel the gentle breeze from the way his wings ruffle and flutter behind him. Golden irises that are normally so sharp soften, unfocusing and becoming hazy with desire as his attention turns solely to the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around his throbbing cock.

"Kei," you whisper to coax those golden eyes to your face, a warm smile pulling at the corners of your lips and his, as well.

"What is it, baby?" He asks in a dulcet tone. The noise is like smooth velvet tickling your skin while his nose nuzzles so delicately against yours as you trade your sensuous sounds.

"I love you," you reply as easily and with as much certainty as you've ever said anything in your life.

And even though it isn't the first time that he's heard you say such a wonderful thing, he still reacts like it is.

His fingertips glide along your back, traveling up so that he can fully encircle you in his arms and pull you flush to his chest to cradle you like the treasure that you are. The one that he still can't believe he's found. He'd once compared it to stumbling across the Fountain of Youth. He hadn't ever bothered to search for a love like yours, because he had no reason to believe that it even existed and yet here you are, breathing new life into him every single day.

The orange glow of the fire is drowned out by red. A carmine cage of comfort and kindness coming to swallow you whole as the welcoming plumage of his wings ensnares your body. You quickly decide that there's no safer place than right here, folded in the arms of your lover, your hips moving in tandem with his as you both give and take, exchanging a never-dwindling amount of love and passion between your melded forms.

"I love you more," he breathes, a rasp to his voice.

His hips shift upwards with enough force to bounce you in his lap and his toned arms seize you a little tighter, catching you while he shifts his weight forward and lowers you gently into a down bed of his own design.

"K-Keigo," you gasp at the change. The new position offers you a different sensation that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and inspires prickles down your spine, causing you to shiver against his sensitive wings.

"I know," he promises, a soothing shush.

And he does. He knows exactly what you want and he gives it to you generously. His abs flex, drawing taut while his perfect form collides with yours. Hips rolling, steady and smooth as the waves of the tide lapping at the soaked sand of the shore.

"C'mon, baby," he murmurs as he leans in to kiss along your jaw, feathering kisses to that sensitive part of your neck that makes you shudder when he slides his tongue against it. You can tell that he's close and he knows that you are too.

Your features contort, drawing up tight before you explode. Your eyes pop open, your jaw feels like it might become unhinged from the sheer force with which you open it to cry out, "Keigo!"

The symphony of noises that you bless his ears with drives his tempo faster. The sound drives him insane. It guides him right up to the precipice of madness and demands that he move his hips faster, lest he vault straight over the edge of that cliff.

"Shit, baby," he chokes the words out as he follows you into oblivion, mindlessly driving himself into you again and again while he clings to the sound of you still sobbing so sweetly for him.

He gradually slows his pace, stilling his hips once it starts to feel so good that it nearly hurts. He rolls onto his side, keeping you wound up in his wings and his reliable arms to pull you in once again. Always trying to get just a little closer.

"I love you," he offers up another resolute reminder, lips moving against your forehead while the pads of his fingers whisper the same promise against your heated skin in their own way.

His heartbeat thuds against your ear. Your smile grows against his chest. His wings finally unfurl and his arms lazily drape around your form, but you feel no less held by him. No less protected. No less loved in the aftermath.

"I love you more."

likes, comments, & reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

#hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #takami keigo x reader

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101crows · 5 months

Text

Going To Red for comfort

‘This can’t be happening’

You repeated this to yourself yet again, as if saying it enough times would somehow make it true. The world had taken your birth parents from you and now it was trying to take your found parents too. Another car crash. Not just with one parent this time, no. With both of them.

‘This isn’t happening.’

They were in surgery and the drunk driver that hit them got off with a broken arm and a concussion. You had to see him walking around, talking to the people he loved while your parents laid touch-and-go on hospital beds. You were sure in a few hours you’d be angry as all hell, but after sobbing and screaming and sobbing all over again, all you felt was empty.

Distantly, you heard your phone ringing. It was muffled, like you had lost it under a mountain of pillows, and when you looked at it in your hand you felt a deep certainty that it was not your hand, not your body at all. You stared at for longer than usual, knowing that the word on it was real and familiar, and yet unable to recognize it or who it meant was calling. Only when the call disconnected then started ringing again did you finally register that someone was trying to call you. Reddington was trying to call you.

‘Right. Right, of course, he’ll know what’s happened by now.’

“Hello?”

“(Y/n), darling, I was worried you were ignoring me.” His voice had the same nonchalance it normally did, and yet it was marginally softer than usual. You knew it was on your behalf that he didn’t go immediately into questioning you. Somehow, he knew you would need this sense of normalcy from him, a constant in a world ever-changing.

“I could never ignore you, red.”

You paused for a moment, debating your next question.

“Where are you right now?”

The control you maintained on your voice a moment ago slipped and it became a small, scared thing begging for comfort.

“Already on my way, my dear. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You felt a wave of relief flood through you. Five minutes. You just had to make it five more minutes. Red was not a miracle worker, but you knew if anyone could help you, it would be him. He would do whatever he could to ensure your parents had the best treatment possible, and you didn’t even have to ask.

“Will you take me somewhere quiet please?”

“You should be with your parents.”

“Please, Red. I can’t be in this damn hospital any longer.”

You heard him sigh, and knew you had won. He wasn’t particularly fond of hospitals, but you downright hated them.

“Two more minutes, darling, then somewhere quiet. Dembe and I will be waiting for you outside.”

You didn’t bother staying on the phone, choosing instead to grab all your things and hurry towards the exit, desperate to leave this stupid white hellhole as quickly as possible. Dembe was waiting for you when you reached the doors, ready to take your bags and put them in the back. You didn’t even have the energy to hand them to him, just stood limply while he grabbed them from you and mumbled out a thank you. You felt like a zombie again as you trudged toward the car, then flung yourself into the seat. You slumped against Reddington, face burrowed into his shoulder.

“Is this real?” He shifted beneath you and draped an arm over your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on your back.

“Unfortunately so.”

You choked back a sob and tightened your grip on his suit.

“The place we’re going… can it be dark too? I like things better in the dark.”

He let out a soft hum of affirmation and something in you realized he was already planning on it. Perhaps if both of you were different people you’d be creeped out by this, but you had long since gotten used to his surveillance. He liked to tell you one could never be too careful.

“Red? One more thing?”

He hummed again to let you know he was listening.

“The man that hit them… I want him to hurt.”

He let out a soft chuckle and draped something over your back.

“That can be arranged.”

#blacklist #the blacklist #raymond reddington #red reddington #reddington #reddington x reader #Raymond reddington x reader #red x reader #the blacklist x reader #reddington x you #the blacklist x you #writing #x reader

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never-enough-novels · 11 days

Note

🧚‍♀️ iM a FaiRy ✨🌟🌸💮

Do it Grayson

Prompt: Reader's parents are fighting and they don't wanna be there so they ask Grayson if they can stay over.

Take your time, love

It's finally done bbg

A/n: im sorry if there are any mistakes in this. This was my first time writing anything like this 😭. I tried my best. Really hope you like this. It's also mostly very shit so I'm sorry beforehand

World limit: about 700 words

Tw: argument between parents, blaming yourself about it

Coffee and comfort

They're fighting again

On the same topic again

God I only wish they would just not shout so much. Or if they want to just not infront of me. Each accusation, each word spat to one another felt like it was my fault. I don’t even know why I think its my fault. The air itself was so thick it was suffocating. I tried sleeping it off but the shouting just went on and on and an like it was in my brain. I wanted to cry but couldn’t and it felt like a barb wire in my throat. As I lay on my bed, with the comfort of my favourite playlist playing in the background, the weight of the situation pressed down on me. Hands trembling I decided to call the one person I thought could provide me comfort right now: Grayson.

I reached for my phone, my fingers hesitantly hovering over his contact before pressing call. The phone rang briefly before his warm, familiar voice filled the line.

“Hey, love, everything okay?” Grayson’s voice was tinged with immediate concern.

Hearing his voice again tipped my emotions over the edge. I tried to cover my mouth and not cry so I don’t worry him any further; which obviously turns futile.

“Hamnah what happened? Talk to me love” he asked worriedly

“Can I please come over to your place? Theyre fighting again” I ask as quietly as I can without breaking down after hearing his voice

There was no hesitation on his end, just the comforting certainty of his reply. “Of course, come over. The house feels empty without you anyway.”

Disconnecting the call, I packed a few necessities into a bag, throwing in a book and my journal, knowing well that Grayson’s place was the only place where I could find peace enough to write. The drive over was quick, the familiar streets bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights leading me to his penthouse which was his safe place too.

As soon as he opened the door I was enveloped in a comforting hug which was the best thing in the world. We stayed in that position which felt like hours but could only have been a few minutes.

Grayson, cupping my face up gave me the most gentle kiss on lips and then asked “Are you ok Hamna? Wanna talk about it?”

Shaking my head I said, “I'd really rather not right now”

Nodding his head with a small comforting smile on his face he went into the kitchen while I situated myself on his bed; finally taking a deep breath and letting myself relax.

He comes back and hands me a glass of water and says “You know you’re always welcome here, right? This is as much your home as it is mine,” he said, his voice earnest.

I nodded, my heart swelling with gratitude. “I know, Gray. Thank you. It means everything to me.”

We spent the evening tucked away in his bedroom, watching movies that made us laugh and making me forget the harshness of reality of my home. Grayson held me close, his presence a shield against the outside world. It was moments like these that I was reminded of how much he meant to me,and how we came to be together and him being my boyfriend and safe space.

Later, while cuddling with his arm around my back and my head on chest, listening to heartbeats I decided to speak about what happened.

“I hate that you have to see this side of my life, I never wanted to show you this ” I confessed quietly, the darkness of the room and his presence making it easier for me to express my fears and feelings.

Grayson’s arm tightened around me, pulling me closer. “Hamna, we all have our battles. But you’re not alone in this, okay? I’m here for you, no matter what.” His words, feeling sincere and reassuring, helped the tightening around my cheat and throat.

“I love you, Gray,” I whispered, feeling his kiss on my forehead in response.

“I love you more,” he said back, a line so simple yet profound, promising unspoken vows of support and everything I could wish for.

As I drifted off to sleep, the echo of my parents’ shouting seemed like miles away. Here, in Grayson’s arms, I found more than just a temporary escape; I found a promise of hope and a reminder of his love for me.

#grayson x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x desi reader #the brothers hawthorne #the hawthorne vault #the grandest game #grayson hawthorne #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #grayson hawthorne x reader #jameson winchester hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #nash westbrook hawthorne #nash hawthorne #xander blackwood hawthorne #xander hawthorne #avery kylie grambs #avery grambs

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claudemblems · 8 months

Note

KAT!! omg you're really making me want to rewatch this show 🤣 please 14+15 for william moriarty! it's always the most fun to write about characters you love 💗 💫👍

Moon you watched Moriarty the Patriot??? I just started watching it recently but it's SO good I cannot believe I didn't watch it earlier!!! Thank you YouTube for recommending me a random clip from the show so I could finally be convinced to watch it

And of course, thank you for requesting Moon <3

William Moriarty

Prompt 14: they roll on top of you, cradling your head between their hands as they kiss your nose

Prompt 15: ^ placing a kiss on your forehead as they mumble how pretty you are

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

After a long day spent ridding the world of its evils, there was nothing you wanted more than to let your exhaustion melt away in the comfort of William's arms, safe and secure from the perilous city of London.

"That was quite the performance you put on, darling," William said with a soft smile. "You led those villains right to their deaths, and they were none the wiser."

"Well, you were watching, so of course I had to make it a show worth remembering."

William laughed, causing your heart to swell in your chest. That was a rare sound to hear from him nowadays, especially with the way he'd practically been buried in his work.

"You truly took my breath away. We make quite the perfect couple, don't you think?"

"If your definition of a perfect couple is getting away with murder, then I'd be inclined to agree."

"We're just settling the score board one move at a time. With you aiding me, my opponent's king has practically fallen right into my lap. Before long, they'll be met with their rightful checkmate."

You hummed, wrapping your arms tighter around William's waist. When you were this close to him, you could hear the steady rhythm of his heart, a pleasant reminder that he was still here, living and breathing, not yet taken by the dark powers of this world.

But you were taken by surprise as William rolled on top of you, a yelp involuntarily leaving your lips. He smiled upon hearing it, but instead of throwing a playful tease your way, he took your face into his hands, gazing down at you with a fondness so palpable that it made your heart leap in your chest.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he whispered, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

A blush bloomed on your face, no doubt growing as red as his bright ruby eyes. "Yes, many times, in fact."

"Is that so? It seems to me that I haven't said it enough."

"William..."

Before you could utter another word, William brushed his lips against your forehead, letting his touch linger there for a few long moments. "You are so beautiful. Every part of you."

Your skin grew warmer at his sincerity, his words almost too much to take in. How was it possible for someone to look upon you as if you were the most precious thing in the world? Who could make sense of the way their adoration for you only seemed to grow day by day, something far beyond the capacity of human understanding?

You may never fully understand it, but all you desired in this life was to be loved by William until your very last breath, and, if given the chance, to love him in the life that came next.

"The angels themselves would marvel at your beauty," William said, giving you another kiss. "Truly, I must be the most fortunate man in the world to have you." Followed by another kiss, and then another.

"I could say the same for you," you replied, laughing at the kisses that left a ticklish sensation against your skin.

"No, darling," he replied, meeting your eyes once again. A determination filled them, accompanied by a sense of complete certainty. "I am the lucky one." With one last kiss pressed against your lips, William smiled. "Because I get to love you."

#💌 - ask #💖 - beloved moots #I think this is one of the fluffiest things I've ever written omg #ask game #william moriarty #moriarty the patriot

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mirclealignr · 2 years

Text

my angel | r.b

regulus black x gn!reader

requested by @dawnslibrary with the prompt ‘whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same’ — quote prompt list.

warnings; slightly self indulgent, the reader is ticklish at their sides (sorry), hair that fingers can go through, or tangle in is what i said i think. fluff!

word count; 800+

to be notified when i post, fill in my tag list form or follow @mirclesjournal

If there was anything better than waking naturally in the late morning, letting your eyes flutter open slowly to adjust to the sunbeams pouring through the window panes, only to lay eyes upon Regulus’ sound face, then you had not yet had the pleasure of experiencing it. In fact, you were certain that no such feeling could ever be achieved, because nothing could surpass what you had just described.

While the sun caressed your face in the absence of Regulus, you turned to face the man in question. His skin flushed slightly from the warmth of the morning and the heavy fabric of your shared duvet. He was so inviting—nothing you could ever do would lead him to break your trust—but what was important was that you felt it. You weren’t afraid to be unapologetically yourself, to say what was on your heart, or communicate your fears with someone who had proven to be continually thoughtful and understanding no matter the situation.

“Close those curtains,” Regulus grumbled, slowly waking from his peaceful slumber under your watchful eye, “Sun’s waking me up.”

“It’s nearly midday, shouldn’t we be waking up?” You giggled, brushing his curly hair out of his face and behind his ear.

“Certainly not, darling,” he smirked, still having not opened his eyes, and pulled you closer to him so he could bury his face in your neck.

“You can’t hide from the light, especially if I move,” you rolled your eyes and tried to demonstrate, but Regulus kept you firmly in place, “I thought you wanted the curtains closed!”

Regulus let you go reluctantly, replacing your neck with the pillow you’d recently left unattended. With half his face buried in the soft fabric, he saw the shades of the skin over his eyes turn darker, and he knew the curtains were being closed. He dared to open an eye, finally, for only one of them was not pressed into the pillow, and he saw you. You were not trying to look a certain way, walk a certain way or seem particularly appealing, you were comfortable, authentic.

His shirt protected your body, flowed over your curves and dips, faintly, cautiously, touching your skin in the places you could hardly bare his fingertips to grace. Your waist, for instance, a particularly ticklish part of your body you guarded at almost every moment, and yet his own property could get closer to it than him. But at least it was him in some essence.

“Are you watching me?” You asked fondly, turning to catch Regulus staring.

“Admiring.”

You hummed gently, climbing back into bed and slipping your leg in between his, to warm you and hold you. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, a hand resting between your shoulder blades and the other caressing your face. He shut his eyes again, and you felt safe enough to do the same, clinging to that sense of security you once thought fictitious.

“I know you hate these questions-”

“Oh no, mon ange,” Regulus interrupted, clinging to you more tightly.

“But,” you continued, and he groaned, “What if I had never found you? I can guarantee I would never feel as safe as I do when I’m with you, with anyone else. Would I have gone my whole life feeling unsafe, truly? What are the odds that we actually met and fell in love and-”

“I can say, with great certainty," he interrupted your spewing thoughts, "That the odds were very high. Because whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same, we were meant to find each other,” he whispered softly, staring at you with great seriousness, “Stop spending your time wondering what it would be like not having me. You have me, until my last breath. And wherever I’m taken from there, I will search for you even then. I will love you, even then.”

A certain warmth spread over your body as Regulus spoke these words to you, forced you to listen, and understand that every word he uttered was the absolute truth.

“I made it all fucking week,” you laughed, wiping the tears from your eyes, as his words sunk through your skin and buried themselves into your heart, “You ruined my no crying streak.”

Regulus smiled, kissing your forehead, kissing your cheek and trailing to your mouth slowly, pecking your skin along the way until he was met with your plump lips. It felt like more than a kiss—though it was impossibly slow and gentle—it felt like a promise with such depth that you might fall over an invisible ledge and be irrevocably lost to the world, if it weren’t for Regulus being there to catch you. His hand crept up your back and caressed your neck before tangling in your unbrushed hair, while his other hand wiped the tears from your face.

When he finally disconnected your lips, he left your hair to wipe your other cheek from staining tears, and smiled encouragingly, “You’re my little treasure,” Regulus hummed, tucking you under his chin.

“I love you, Reggie,” you sighed contently, grateful the curtains were closed and there was nothing to do but sleep in his arms all day.

“I love you,” he replied, earnestly.

#regulus black fluff #regulus black x reader #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x you #regulus black x gn!reader #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black fic #regulus black imagine #regulus x reader #regulus fluff #marauders era #marauders era fanfiction

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suhnshinehaos · 2 years

Text

growing pains : act one, part three

series synopsis : people say that you’ll experience three kinds of love in your lifetime. the first is an idealistic love, the kind that feels straight out of a fairy tale. the second is the hard love, the kind that will leave you with lessons about yourself and the love you want and need to experience. finally, the love you never see coming. this is the story of your three loves. pairing : svt 97 line x gn!reader genre/s : non-idol au, coming of age, angst, fluff, my attempts at humor act one, part three wc : ~1k

act one : the idealistic love ➤ part 03 : be okay

after three years of being in a relationship, and even more of knowing each other, it was supposed to be yn and seokmin forever. yn and seokmin until the end. what changed? how did all their plans for the future become more and more uncertain with each passing day?

previous ➤ act one, part two next ➤ act one, part four growing pains ➤ masterlist

the second you enter his room, you practically throw yourself onto the bed, snuggling deeper and deeper into the pillows. seokmin can’t help the small smile that made its way on his face; you were comfortable there, the action all-too familiar as a testament to the years that you’ve spend knowing each other. in a way, it was like you were in your own room too.

“well, you look at home.”

there’s a lightness, an almost teasing tone to his voice, but you knew him too well. just enough to recognize the slightest hint of nervousness that coated his words.

“home is where you are, seokmin.”

and though you say it with a wink and the intent to make his heart flutter, it doesn’t make it any less true. the two of you have made plans around the certainty that you were each other’s homes : applying for the same university, looking for places to live together, scouting out potential jobs for when you graduated.

there’s a light pink tint in his cheeks and a slight shift in his demeanor as seokmin makes his way to where you are, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands neatly folded on his lap. he asked you to come over because he wanted to talk about something, and the way he looked gave you everything you needed to know.

from where you were lying, you could only see the profile of his face. but you caught the distant look in his eyes and the way the corner of his mouth turned downwards. you sit up and move next to him, your shoulder brushing against his own.

“what’s wrong, baby? you know you can talk to me about anything.”

seokmin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, knowing that he would chicken out if he didn’t say what he needed to say in the next three seconds.

one,

two,

three.

“i auditioned for a role in a musical and i got a callback, i’m sorry!”

he says it all in one giant breath, eyes still screwed shut for fear of seeing your reaction. but they slowly open when he feels your arms around him, your warmth enveloping the entirety of his system.

“you’re not mad?”

he’s breathless when you pull away, even more so when you chuckle and run a hand through his hair and pat the top of his head.

“mad? i’m so proud of you.”

and you mean it. seokmin has always mentioned his dream of being an actor and a singer, but he’s always considered it to be a pipe dream. unattainable. you always knew he could be something greater, and you can’t help the guilt that creeped into your veins when you realize that you weren’t able to support him in that audition. he was too afraid, or rather, nervous to tell you.

he shouldn’t have to feel that way. he should be able to tell you anything. you should be able to tell him anything.

“you’re proud of me?”

you tilt your head to the side, “of course i am, why wouldn’t i be proud of you? that’s the first step to reaching your dream!”

“but it ruins all our plans.” he frowns, resting his head on your shoulder.

you sigh, glancing around the room until it lands on a framed picture by the bedside table. one of you and him. the widest grins on your faces, cheeks smushed against the other’s, and unbelievably close to the camera.

“i’m the one who messed up our plans,” you mumble.

seokmin lifts his head and looks at you, the furrow in his brows returning and growing deeper, “what do you mean?”

now or never. you could practically hear joshua’s voice in your head, pleading with you to tell seokmin. well, maybe that was just your conscience.

“do you know hybe institute of the arts? i applied there…i know it’s not pledis uni, but i’ve dreamed of going there and i know it wasn’t in our plan and i never thought i’d get in so i didn’t think applying would do anything-”

“do you want to go?”

seokmin cuts off your rambling with a question, his voice the softest you have ever heard it.

“i do.”

“then you should go.”

“even if it’s in new york?”

it’s quiet. a little too quiet for either of your liking. you being thousands of miles away from him was definitely not in the plan. while him getting the role might mean most of his time is spent in rehearsals, at least he wouldn’t have to leave the country.

seokmin freezes. the selfish part of his brain is screaming, begging you to stay with him. by his side. but he knew better than to listen to that side of himself.

“even if it’s in new york.”

he responds after a couple of minutes, but there was a slight waver in his voice.

“you’re not going to ask me to stay?” you’re surprised to say the least. eyes growing wide, unable to stop the gasp that escaped your lips.

seokmin purses his lips, taking a few seconds to himself to try and process everything he was feeling. he grabs your hand, giving it a tight squeeze before his gaze meets yours, “yn, my angel… you have no idea how much i want you to stay, but i don’t want you to hate me for it. if i ask you to stay…and you miss out on this opportunity, you’re going to resent me for it. i don’t want you to hate me, yn. i don’t want to be the person that holds you back.”

“i could never hate you, seokmin.” you reply, your tone firm as you squeeze his hand back, “never.”

“i don’t want to take that risk.” he whispers, voice just loud enough for you to hear, “that’s the last thing i want.”

silence once again falls between the two of you. the air is heavy and thick with tension. though it feels like the weight has left your shoulders, it still felt like it was getting harder and harder to breathe. a single question plaguing both your minds.

you break the silence, deciding that it was better to bite the bullet sooner than later. you were already having this conversation anyway.

“what happens to us?”

“i love you. we’ll be okay.”

seokmin says it with such conviction that it makes you want to believe it too. he loves you, and you love him.

that was enough, right?

you rest your head on his shoulder and he rests his head on top of yours. bringing his hand to your lips, you mumble into his knuckles, “we’ll be okay.”

from reese, with love <3 they finally talked !! but we’re only on part three and this act still has a very long way to go >_< thank you sm for reading !! as always, id love to know what you think :)) hope you are all doing well and taking care of yourselves :))

#🎐 — growing pains!#seventeen x reader #seokmin x reader #mingyu x reader #minghao x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen smau #seventeen series #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt smau #svt series #seokmin imagines #seokmin fluff #seokmin smau

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sotwk · 1 year

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The Crown (Thranduil x OC Wife fanfic)

Summary: On the evening of his coronation, a heavy-hearted Thranduil prepares for the ceremony with the help of his wife. Takes place in SA 3441, seven years after Oropher's death and shortly after the end of the War of the Last Alliance.

Pairing: Thranduil x FemOC (2nd Person POV is Maereth, his OC wife in my "Sons of the Woodland King" series.)

Word count: 2.5k

Content: Grief/comfort, romance, marriage, angry/protective Thranduil

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: Link

A/N: If you would like to be tagged in future Thranduil fics, please just say so in comments/reblog/DM!

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Shortly before sunset they all sweep into your chambers, bearing trunks of regalia and armfuls of fabric. No less than a dozen attendants, most faces familiar and a few less so, work in movements so organized and efficient that amid their whirlwind of activity, the room remains respectfully quiet. Unmoved is the somber stillness that has blanketed it over the long nights past.

When the last clasp on your gown has been fastened and the final stroke of the brush has run through your hair, the elleths who attend you curtsy simultaneously. "My Queen," murmurs Caethel, your own sweet handmaid. You give her a gracious smile but shake your head. "Thank you," you whisper. "But no. Not yet.”

After they leave, you walk over to the open double doors that lead out to the balcony, lingering behind the sheer white curtains to breathe in the crisp autumn air and feel the sun’s fading rays on your face. This evening, your life changes drastically, setting you on a road of so many possibilities not even your foresight can offer the comfort of certainty.

It frightens you, this new role and unfamiliar future that you never, in the long years of your youth, desired for yourself. But you desired him. From the moment you crossed paths with Thranduil Oropherion, you lost your heart and your choice.

You turn away from the balcony view and back to matters at hand. Across the chamber, the last two remaining servants hover about the feet of your husband, one working the straps of his tall boots, the other standing back to survey the overall effect. You had worked closely with the palace tailors to oversee the making of his coronation robes, and the final product they presented pleased you. Whatever Thranduil thinks of them, however, remains unclear. You watch as he stands still, eerily like a statue of cold marble, while they adjust the long ends of heavily embroidered fabric around his booted legs.

Finally, they turn their attention to his hair. The head valet, the late king’s personal own, reaches up to tug the loose silver locks away from his ears, and you see it. A barely perceptible grimace flickers over Thranduil’s face. The sight calls out to you, and you take one unbidden step forward.

He hears your movement. His eyes suddenly rise and carry his gaze across the room to where you stand, a silent, tearless cry that stabs your own heart in shared grief.

“Let me,” you call out, gliding swiftly to your husband’s side. The valet blinks at you in confusion, so you clarify. “I shall take it from here. Thank you for all you have done.”

He hesitates with a hand still resting over the cascade of Thranduil’s hair. “Would you like me to show you how, my lady?”

You shake your head and answer simply. “I will see it done.”

He senses your intention and is determined enough to try and object. “But Princess--”

“She said it will be done!” Thranduil cuts him off sharply. “And you are finished here. Leave us.” Robes swirling in his wake, he storms to the bedroom chamber, where none but you would dare follow.

You do not undermine your husband by apologizing on his behalf, but you thank the servants again as you see them out the door. Then entering your bedroom, you find Thranduil glaring at his reflection in a gilded mirror on the wall, a wine goblet in his hand.

“They want your ceremony executed properly, down to the last detail, so it may have the dignity it deserves. That is all.”

He remains silent and does not even look at you until you come up to him. You take the empty goblet from his hand and replace it with your own. A gentle squeeze of your palm brings his eyes on you, and in their blue depths you finally catch a glimmer of something other than pain.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers.

“Melmenya…” You hold your intertwined fingers to your cheek. “It is you who matters tonight, and only you. Let us finish getting you ready.”

His eyes dart back to the mirror. “Those braids,” he mutters. “Such a trivial thing. Such a small, trivial, foolish matter to have ever quarreled about.”

Thranduil has never been one to weep, and the death of his father did not change that. But his clear eyes, distant manner, and brusque comments cannot mask his sorrow from you. You do not press him for anything, but you simply listen to him grieve in his own way.

You wonder how Oropher’s personal valet could have missed the significance of hair braids in the late king’s tumultuous relationship with his only child. Perhaps the father and son had succeeded in concealing the tides of their estrangement from those close to them. But over the course of the two millenia you have known Thranduil, you became his most intimate confidante, and by the time you were married, you had heard the story behind every single deep-seated grievance your husband carried against his sire.

All his life, Oropher regarded braided hair as a sign of Elven refinement. A lord of old traditions, he braided his waist-length hair, a crowning glory of silver among the Silvans he ruled, in an elaborate and precise style that he considered the hallmark of his kingly visage. Hair ornamentation was neither the first nor most contentious matter Thranduil and Oropher disagreed on. But it was the first dissension that the prince actually expressed, which then emboldened him to start speaking his mind against every decreed formality or royal practice he did not wish to observe. And there were many.

By his account, Thranduil started rejecting the tying back of his hair as soon as he left the care of a nursemaid. His father tolerated this childish rebellion only by the intercession of his wife. But after this gentle mediator was lost to them both in the destruction of Doriath, the young Thranduil who had barely come of age only grew more determined to exert his independence from Oropher.

As wild as one of Araw’s Kine, Oropher had grumbled regarding your husband, when you once asked what he had been like in his youth. And as stubborn as the whole herd.

Reflecting on all this, you comb your fingers repeatedly through the silken strands that flow freely down Thranduil’s shoulder to his chest.

“We shall not braid or tie your hair,” you declare. “It is a practice that has no bearing on your ability to rule, and you have always sought to be a king of your own mind, your own customs. Let this be the first official departure from protocol towards your own image.”

“As you say, my love.” Thranduil takes your hand to press kisses on your palm before resting it against his chest. You feel the strong and steady beating of his heart, and once again feel weak with relief that he had not been among those lost upon the plains of Mordor.

“Despite his shortcomings as a father, he was a good king.” The slightest quiver in his voice betrays him. “A great king, where it mattered. He earned and deserved the people’s love and loyalty.”

“And so shall you.” You cradle his anguished face between your hands, wishing desperately for the power to heal him of his emotional wounds as well. “Your father rode to battle in confidence and in peace, knowing he had a worthy successor in place.”

“Successors.”

You smile at this correction and gentle reminder of your young son. “Yes. But tonight, only one of you shall be crowned.”

You brush a kiss on his lips before walking away to the dressing room once more. You fetch the gilded coffer that had been delivered to you earlier that day and set it on a table before your husband. He stares silently at the seal worked in gold upon the lid, the seal of the Crown Prince, now the seal of the Elvenking.

His lack of response disappoints you. “Do you not wish to see it?”

He shakes his head and raises his eyes from the box to meet your gaze. “I wish for you to do it.”

It takes you a moment to discern his meaning, and then you stammer through a protest. “I-I cannot. I must not. That honor has been reserved for Silevion.”

A scowl darkens his face. “That craven deserves no honors.”

In the past, Thranduil’s incorrigible disdain of politics had led him to mark himself as unfit to be king. He refused to employ his natural charisma to gain the friendship of Oropher’s councilors, instead amusing himself by subtly mocking them to their unknowing faces. But over time, once he had fully accepted his role as heir to the throne, he formed amicable relationships with all the key lords of Greenwood. Except one.

In the woodlands north of the Emyn Duir, Lord Silevion governs the largest province in the kingdom. He has held his seat since the foundation of the realm, which in his mind--as well as of the general populace--makes him the second highest authority in the land.

So great is Silevion’s accorded power that he had been permitted to stay behind while both King and Prince marched to battle, and safeguard the realm in the Crown’s stead. Rule the elflord did, warming the throne for seven years after Oropher was entombed and while Thranduil remained with the half-decimated Woodland forces to finish the war.

You cannot blame your husband for his grudges. You harbor your own private distrust of the elflord and his brazen ambition, but Thranduil’s enmity needs tempering, not fuel.

“It was your father’s expressed will that the chief councilor crown you when your time comes.” You move close and run your hands up his chest, hoping your touch can make the words easier to accept. “Let us not attempt to overturn decisions that were made long ago.”

Thranduil leans into your caresses, but a smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. “If there is one lesson my father made clear, there is nothing decided in this realm that its king cannot overturn.” His arms around your waist suddenly tighten. “I want you, my wife. My Queen. Their Queen.”

His abrupt change in tone makes you recoil, as it dawns on you what is truly bothering him. “Thranduil, no…"

"Yes." His nostrils flare and his jaw trembles as he chokes a roar back into a snarl. “Yes.”

He is still so angry, after all these years. Years of seemingly endless debates, arguments, negotiations, threats and entreaties. Finally, at your behest, he had conceded to the Council’s ruling, burying his outrage at the choice forced on him. It is a fury you know he would never be able to extinguish.

The Crown Prince may marry the Noldor Exile, she who is of Kinslayer blood. She may bear and raise his heirs, who will join the line of succession. When the Prince inherits the throne and the title of King, she will be given the title of Queen, a title that carries prestige, but no rule or regency. Thranduil’s Queen shall not govern alongside her King, but shall serve under him. In matters brought before the crown, she shall have no voice, and no power shall be exercised by her unless granted by the unanimous vote of the King’s Council.

“Am I to stand by as they continue to insult my wife,” Thranduil fumes. “Let them again proclaim you an outsider, call attention to your lineage to goad our people’s suspicions and distrust?”

A prick of your own hurt at the memory threatens to surface, but you push it away. “Their edict did not poison the people against me when you made me your princess. It will be no different when you make me your queen.”

He barks a cold, humorless laugh. “Whenever they may permit me to crown you! A queen’s crown which, by their perversion, is no more than a shiny trinket.”

"That is mere posturing,” you say calmly. “I am mother to the Crown Prince, and wife to a King who respects me as his partner and equal. That is great power only I can hold and can never be taken from me. Your councilors may tell the people whatever they wish about me, so long as it is the truth. And you must allow it, as you had agreed to long ago.”

You can see your reasoning piercing through his wrath. But he holds you tight, as though pleading for permission to succumb to his impulses. “You deserve far better than this. I should have fought for it then, and I should demand it now.”

“I beg you, husband.” You grasp his arms firmly. “Do not take your focus away from what truly matters. Tonight you rise to your father’s place, and you will at last be king. My king, as much as the people’s. My devotion to you shall be as subject as well as wife. And know this without doubt, Thranduil Oropherion. It shall be my proudest honor to serve you. For I know no greater Elvenking shall ever walk upon Middle-earth.”

Your words rob him of speech, momentarily even of his breath. You extricate yourself from his arms and return to the gilded coffer. You undo the latch and lift the lid to extract the treasure within.

In making the new King’s crown, you sought guidance from your nephew, the son of your beloved late brother and inheritor of his father’s craft. Olondir lent his knowledge in working the pieces of oak branches into the precise shape and measurements, but the long months of troublesome design and delicate labor had been mostly yours.

The hours spent battling frustration and sore, bleeding fingers vanish from memory when you see the wonder light Thranduil’s face. Silently, he sinks down on one knee, so that his head comes at level to your shoulders. You slip the tall, intricate crown over his silver hair, and the entwined lengths of wood fit neatly around his ears and frame the strong lines of his cheekbones.

“It is living and breathing oak given by one of our own trees,” you say softly, brushing your fingertip along the orange autumn foliage sprouting from the wooden weaves. At your touch, the small leaves seem to shift and grow fuller and brighter in hue. “It will change and flourish with the woodlands over the seasons of your rule.”

He tilts his face up to you, love and worship pouring from his gaze, but also renewed strength and determination. Pride swells in your heart at the majestic vision of him, a dream that had graced you long, long ago and has finally come to life before your eyes. In this private moment, you vow to yourself that you would fear no darkness or uncertainty ever again, not while your lord husband held reign over the kingdom.

“On your feet, my King Thranduil,” you command him for the last time. “From this night forward, you kneel to no one.”

#thranduil x oc #thranduil wife #thranduil #king thranduil #lord of the rings #thranduil oropherion #lee pace #thranduil fanfiction #the hobbit #sons of the woodland king #sotwk

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akariarda · 6 months

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Sometimes words can't erase the guilt

Sensei Garmadon ss feels bad because of everything he did to his family and others. Misako tries to comfort him, but it's hard. Sometimes words can't erase the guilt.

Tell me what you want and feel free to request.

"Come on, son, just one more and we're done," Sensei Garmadon said to Lloyd as he took a defensive stance, waiting for Lloyd to attack.

Lloyd swiftly moved towards him, and Garmadon raised his staff to avoid the strike. Suddenly, Lloyd lunged at him with his powers.

"Easy, son," Garmadon calmed him down. "We agreed, no powers in our monastery."

"Sorry," Lloyd said embarrassingly and yawned. "I'm tired. I don't know what I'm doing."

"I know," Garmadon gently replied. "How about we finish it for today?"

"Sounds good!" Lloyd exclaimed, happy to finally get some well-deserved rest. "Goodnight, dad."

"Goodnight, son," Garmadon smiled and started to walk slowly towards the bedroom he shared with Misako.

He had a family, everything he had ever wanted.

'And what he had before,' his mind reminded him.

'And what he discarded for power.' He shook his head, not wanting to think about it now. But he couldn't help it; guilt consumed him from the inside.

He sat on the bed to clear his mind. He was to blame for everything. He had tried to kill Lloyd, Misako, Wu, and everyone he knew.

He nearly destroyed Ninjago. How did he deserve to be forgiven? Tears blurred his vision. His head was so full of guilt that he didn't even notice when Misako entered the room.

"Garmadon?" she asked, surprised to see him crying. "Are you okay?"

"No," Garmadon replied shortly and buried his head back in his hands. She sat beside him.

"Garm," she softly said as she gently touched his chin, trying to turn his face towards her so she could look into his eyes.

Garmadon resisted her soft touch and turned his head to the other side to hide his tears.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong?" she asked even more gently as she lightly stroked his face.

"How can you still love me?" He suddenly turned his head towards her.

"I don't have an answer." Misako shrugged. "I just know that I love you and I can't help it."

"Even after everything I've done?" Garmadon asked her, confused. "How can you, Lloyd, Wu, or anyone else still love me?"

Misako was about to say something, but Garmadon interrupted her.

"Just don't tell me it wasn't me, I've had enough of that. I made the decisions myself and I'm to blame."

He could feel a new stream of tears rolling down his face.

Above all, he wanted to bury his face in Misako's shoulder for comfort and to hide his tears from her.

He knew he couldn't, now he had to talk to her face to face, no matter how much he longed for her reassurance.

"It's true that you made the decisions yourself, but you can't claim to be the same. After you fell into the underworld, you were not the same person in essence, you can't deny that. Are your decisions now the same as when you were poisoned?"

"Fair enough," Garmadon noticed. "But that doesn't diminish the fact that it's my fault."

"It doesn't diminish it," Misako admitted. "But it changes things. And as for how we can still love you after everything, well, if you love someone, you're willing to forgive them a lot. Without the poison, you're a great man."

"If you can forgive me, why can't I forgive myself?" Garmadon asked.

"Honestly, I don't know," Misako helplessly replied. "But I know one thing. Time heals all wounds."

"Not this one," Garmadon said hoarsely. "Not yet."

"First, you have to understand that not everything is entirely your fault, that you can forgive yourself," Misako said. "Lloyd, me, Wu, and the ninjas will still love you. I'll be there for you."

"I know," Garmadon murmured, relieved to have some form of comfort. He rested his head on her shoulder and let the tears flow again.

"There will be more days like this," Garmadon suddenly said with certainty.

"We'll be there for you," Misako told him as she ran her hands through his hair. "But you'll have to heal. It's in the past, no matter how painful. You have changed."

They didn't say anything else when they lay down. He just pulled her into his embrace and buried his head in her hair.

"I love you," he told her as he held her closer.

"I love you too," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "Remember that time heals all wounds. The further you go, the easier it will be, I promise."

He sighed. As much as Misako reassured and comforted him, she couldn't remove the terrible feeling inside him.

She couldn't remove everything he had done or the fact that he was guilty.

However, she had lightened the burden so much that he felt like he could breathe again.

There would be more days like this, he knew. He just hoped that tomorrow would be better.

Suddenly, Misako turned in her sleep and buried her head more firmly against his chest. He held her tighter to soothe her.

Garmadon laughed. Whatever happens, it will get easier as time goes by.

He has his family whom he loves and who loves him. He couldn't ask for more, nor did he want to.

He kissed Misako on the forehead again, causing her to relax a little in his embrace.

Soon, he himself drifted off to sleep. Happy but saddened, full of guilt but optimistic.

#ninjago #Famfiction #After s2 #lord garmadon #Sensei garmadon #lloyd montgomery garmadon #misako montgomery garmadon #Angst #Hurt/comfort #Some kind #Garsako #Garmasako #garmadon x misako #misako x garmadon

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