#quiet soft patters of rain on windows are one of the best noises to hear

[beachblu3s]

Mitsuba may have died the 4th time in his afterlife that day

#tbhk #jshk #mitsukou #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #save him #he has over 3000 photos of Kou #and he keeps them all in the secret closet in the broadcasting room #Tsukasa still hasn’t found out about Mitsuba’s stash of Kou picture collage books #fun fact this was actually an idea I had over a month ago and I finally had the motivation to finish it #it is raining outside and I love it #quiet soft patters of rain on windows are one of the best noises to hear #to all my tag-readers; have a wonderful day 💖 #artists on tumblr #beachblu3s art

[prettytoxicrevolver]

The Four Times it Rained with Anthony Beauvillier and The One Time it Didn't

Requested? Absolutely not

Warnings? It's really long with like no dialogue LMAO

Summary: The rain has always brought good things to you and Tito but what happens when it's actually sunny out?

Word Count: 4k

It's really mf long but I promise it's worth it and I'm super proud of it so enjoy! :)

One

When you awoke to the sound of rain pounding steadily on your rooftop your heart filled with glee like a little kid in a candy store. Nothing made you happier than when it rained outside. You loved having the opportunity to sit inside and work all day with the patter of rain smacking the rooftop.

However, today was even better. You had no work and nowhere to be, your all-time favorite kind of rainy day. You always took these days to finish up your favorite books, watch the movies you’ve been holding off on for ages, revel in the ending of your favorite tv shows that have been put off, order in food, and just enjoy the sound of the rain.

It was a cliche, of course, most of your favorite things typically were. It didn’t make you love them any less, in fact, it made you love them a little more. Thinking about how you and however many other people were absolutely content with the fact that it was pouring outside.

And to make things better? Tito had the day off too.

You were a bit surprised when you woke up to the rain and not your best friend either calling, knocking on the door, or just barging straight in like he owned the place. He practically did, always coming over and spending more time at your apartment than he did his own. He certainly wasn’t unwelcome, you loved every moment you got to spend with the left-wing Islander.

Just as you sit up in bed, running a hand through your hair you hear a knock on the door. Knowing it’s no doubt, Tito, at the source, you shoot him a text telling him to come in using his spare key. You listen to the quiet sounds of the rain against the window as your best friend lets himself inside your apartment.

You fall back in bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin, and snuggle deep into the warmth. You hear a quiet knock on your bedroom door before Tito lets himself in. Your head turns, a tiny smile at the sight of your best friend and he reflects it. He makes his way over to you, climbing in bed and slipping an arm around your waist. He pulls you into his chest, pressing his face into your hair and you both sigh in content at the feeling.

You try to ignore the way his hands feel like fire against your skin and how your heart’s steady tempo has slowly increased at the mere thought of him. Gentle warmth floods your body when Tito presses a kiss to the back of your neck, the action causing your heart to act as an elevator, rising and falling without rhyme or reason.

You both fall asleep for a while, the rain lulling you into a tired state and soaking up the rest you both had been sorely lacking after your busy weeks. You awoke for the second time that day to Tito’s hands lazily tracing patterns on your arms.

“Hi,” you murmur, turning in his embrace.

“Hey,” he greets back his tiny smile growing wider. “Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Getting bored laying here?” you ask.

“Never,” he says, throwing a wink at you that has your stomach doing backflips.

Tito has to turn away from you as his cheeks burn red at your sleep-ridden state. His heart mimics the rain outside a steady patter fast against the rooftop just like his heart against his ribcage. He stands, holding a hand out to you which you take and you let him pull you up and out of bed, leading you towards the living room.

You both fall onto the couch, Tito pulls your legs over his and slips an arm back around your waist. He hated being away from your touch for too long. Your head falls comfortable onto his chest and you’re certain your eyes may flutter shut once more.

Tito peruses the movies before him and ultimately decides on a random marvel one that he’s never seen before but you most definitely have. He watches as your eyes light up at the sight of your favorite superhero on screen, and you launch into the explanation of the plot for him.

He can barely focus, only thinking about how easy it would be to release the three simple words that would change everything. Or press a kiss to your soft-looking lips in an attempt to hush you so he can actually watch and listen to the movie. Unfortunately fear captures his heart a little tighter than the love he has for you.

You turn back to look at your best friend, expecting at least a hum in response, and when you notice his eyes have been on you the entire explanation your cheeks flush. You wondered what he was thinking about, and hoped it was the same thing you were.

“You okay?” you ask, pulling him back to reality.

“Yeah,” he reassures. “All good.”

You nod, a tiny smile on your lips as you look back at the TV. Tito tries to focus for you but he can only think about how much he loves you.

Two

It was a bad habit for you to leave all of your shopping to one day a week. You always ended up running out of something you desperately needed but were too lazy to go out and buy.

However, today seemed to be turning out equal parts bad and equal parts good. The good thing was that you were able to convince Tito to come with you shopping and carry some (he would argue most) of your groceries home. The somewhat bad? It looked like it might rain.

You tried to make your way through the store as quickly as possible, the impending storm looming in the back of your head as you shop. However, your best friend is of no help to you.

"Tito" you call for the billionth time. "Put it back."

The older boy pouts, reaching into your cart to pull out the fruit snacks he just threw in. You smile widely at him, and before you can move the cart once more, Tito climbs onto the front of it.

“Onward!” he yells pointing in the opposite direction and you giggle while pushing the cart slowly along as to not hit anyone or anything.

The rest of the shopping goes just as smoothly, your heart filling up with air similar to a balloon that doesn’t know when it’s going to pop. Sometimes looking at your best friend was too much and you became scared you’d let the feelings spill out all over the floor.

Tito would do anything to see you smile or laugh. It was nothing short of embarrassing himself or nearly killing himself in the middle of a grocery store aisle where he could easily be recognized in the small area of Long Island. As long as your head was thrown back in laughter, a wide smile stretched across your lips, and the promise of a sometimes yelled “Tito!” or “beau!” expelled from you was there, it was worth it.

After checking out, you two split up the bags and start to make the trek back to your apartment. You were beyond glad you had brought Tito along with you, making the trip much easier on you and providing plenty of entertainment along the way. As you walk, the clouds start to rumble and you cast a nervous glance over to the tall brunette. Tito grins back at you, just enjoying your presence, not a care for the impending weather.

A crack of thunder rolls in causing you to jump and pick up your speed. You were about two blocks from your house but the world had other plans for you. Just as you were rounding a block away, it starts to pour.

“Fuck!” you yell pausing in the street.

You look over and Tito is grinning like a maniac, the smile on his lips shooting straight to your heart. You can’t help but reflect it, he looks beautiful rain-soaked and his blue eyes lit up at the wonder of it all.

Tito had always been grateful for the rain. It had always brought good things to him and the world. Right now it easily brought him his favorite thing he’s ever witnessed. Your hair is soaked, plastering messily against your face as you whip around to look at him. A smile bigger than he had ever seen sits perfectly on your lips and that sound that he loves more than anything in the world is there, the laugh that makes his heart rise to the top of the empire state building and teeter over the side with nerves.

God, he loved you.

Without a second thought, he intertwines your hands, grabbing your bags out of your other hand and hauling them into his own. He starts tugging you along, trying to push down the fact that your hands feel like they’re made specifically for him and that he never wants to let go.

You make it back to your apartment, your heart pounding for a different reason for once. When you get inside, Tito drops the groceries by the door and you both turn to each other still giggling quietly. Tito’s hand is still interlocked with yours, his calluses rubbing against your palm and sending shockwaves through your veins.

He pulls you in, his other hand coming to wrap around your waist. Your soaked bodies inch closer until they’re flush and you’re staring into his mesmerizing blue eyes. Your free hand wraps around the back of his neck, your fingers trailing the buzz-cut hair on the back of his neck.

Tito was pretty sure you might be the death of him. Looking down at your soaked state, peering up at him and the movement of your hands, he’s surprised his heart hadn’t stopped yet. He wants to lean down, finally meet his lips to yours, and fall headfirst into a relationship with you without considering any of the consequences.

You were hoping that one of you was finally going to build the nerve to change everything. Your heart is tipping on the edge of wishing and hoping. Just as your noses brush, a loud crack of thunder sounds, and you both jump, the possibility scaring you along with the noise.

Three

Today was not turning out to be a good day. Besides the prospect of rain later, you had barely gotten any work done, your finals were coming up soon, and you hadn’t seen Tito in weeks.

So the last one is slightly exaggerated. You had seen Tito, mostly through facetime calls and the occasional quick stop by but he was mostly on the road and you were sorely missing your best friend. You’d kill to have him here, even if it was for longer than an hour, you’d do anything to have him next to you.

You knew it was somewhat selfish, but you needed him here. Needed his encouraging words, his soft touches, his sweet smiles, just his presence. You knew his schedule though, understood his job and what came with it and you knew he’d never trade it for the world, you never wanted him to.

Tito was homesick. Not particularly for his apartment, or even the island itself, he was desperate to see you. He missed your laugh, and holding your hand, cuddling together late at night, waking up early to your sleeping state, forehead kisses, and his favorite: your laugh. He was desperate for it, the physical version of it.

However, when he heard the Isles were headed home for a quick weekend stint he knew he wasn’t close to heading back to his apartment. He headed straight towards you, his other half even if it was unbeknownst to you. He had decided a while ago that even if you never reciprocate his feelings, you were still his twin flame, his platonic soulmate forever and always.

He headed to your apartment with excitement, checking your location on his phone to see that you were there. In the cab on the way, it starts to rain and Tito can’t help but smile. He had always loved the rain but he was almost certain it had slowly started to become a beacon of good things especially surrounding you.

A wave of calm flows through him when he reaches your front door, he feels like a little kid receiving the Christmas present that they had been asking for all year. He hadn’t even seen you yet and the thought occurs to him that he always wants to come home to you after long weeks away.

You sit in your apartment, flipping aimlessly through your textbook in an attempt to get some work done. The rain plinks softly against your apartment window and the noise soothes you as you try to focus. However, just as you start to, a knock on your door sounds. You’re wary at first but make your way over to it swinging it open without a second thought.

“Anthony-” you breath out, your best friend’s first name foreign on your tongue.

Tito barges in, wrapping his arms around your waist and you instantly slip yours around his neck. You relish in the feeling of him being here and back in your arms. You almost let out a whine when he pulls away from you but his hands trail from your waist to your hands and interlock them.

“Come on,” he says with a mischievous smile on his lips.

“Where-” you start but Tito shakes his head, pulling you out of the apartment and dragging you along.

You’re so caught up in the fact that Tito is here, and his hand has slipped back into yours that all you can do is take in his appearance. Whenever he’s gone for a long time he always seems different but more and more like home to you. When he comes back it’s like your last puzzle piece is put in place and you’re whole again.

You both make your way down the floors of your apartment building until you’re outside. Tito lets go of your hand, stepping out onto the sidewalk and letting the rain fall over him. You watch as a loving smile falls onto your lips, the rain cascades over him, his hair falling flat against his forehead, and an unknowing smile pressed on his face.

“Come here,” he tells you and at first you shake your head no.

Beau was definitely not taking that answer today. He makes his way over to you, slipping an arm around your waist and lifting you into his arms and out into the rain. You shriek as the cold raindrops fall over you and you tuck your face into Tito’s neck.

He sets you down but doesn’t let go, his hand still circling your waist. He nudges your arms until they slide around his neck again, your fingers interlocking at the nape. He grins wildly down at you and your heart fills and fills at the sight. He slowly sways the two of you back and forth, dancing to music only known between you two.

“I missed you,” he says after a few quiet beats.

“I missed you too beau.”

Your swaying moves to a dull rocking back and forth, the two of you focused more on each other than anything else in the world. Neither of you realized it, but when the other was around the whole world seemed to fall away in an instant. There was no use trying to get between the two of you.

Beau leans down, your foreheads bumping lightly and your breath shortens at the proximity of the two of you. He leans forward, his nose brushing yours and for once you’re begging for his lips to meet yours, not caring about what might change between the two of you after.

“Hey! Get out of the street!”

You and Tito pull apart heads whipping in the direction of a car driving right at you. You both laugh at the ridiculousness of it all before heading back inside, the rain only picking up harder.

Four

“One more exam. Just one more final exam.”

You chanted the words over and over again in your head hoping they would somehow motivate you into finishing your work and studying for the last exam you had for the school year. You even went as far as going to the library, deciding to hole yourself up there the entire day to try and get something done.

Tito would text you occasionally, mostly offering words of encouragement as you worked and every time your phone buzzed an unconscious smile reached your lips. Tito had always been your cheerleader and vice versa. You were always there for each other and pushing each other forward whenever you needed it.

Your corner of the library was cozy, you sat, your legs tucked up in the loveseat next to the window. The rain fell slowly down the side of the building and you watched two raindrops drip down, an unknown race there.

Your eyes fall back to the textbook in front of you, flipping through the pages trying to absorb more information than you already have all day. As you work, suddenly a hand appears in front of you, a cup of coffee being placed down on the table in front of you. Your eyes trail up and you find a grinning Tito standing before you.

“Thought you might need an energy boost,” he says sitting down in front of you.

Your heart practically bursts at the sight. Tito had known you hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep recently and was worried about you. However, he also knew you were easily the most stubborn person in his life. If he couldn’t beat you, he might as well support your caffeine addiction in hopes that by the end of finals you’ll finally get some rest.

“Have I mentioned recently you’re my favorite person in the world?”

Tito grins dropping his head down shyly and you take the opportunity to grab the coffee and take a sip of it. You hum at the taste, a soft smile appearing on your lips when you realize that Tito has memorized your coffee order, something no one else has had the energy to do.

“I also wanted to make sure you get home okay,” he says nodding to the ever-growing rainstorm outside.

Your whole body warms at the words, a blush dusting your cheeks. Tito was nothing if not a gentleman and every time a display like this showed, your heart fell further and further into his hands. You place the cup down in front of you, leaning forward to place a hand on Tito’s knee.

“Thank you, darling,” you say and you swear you see a blush on Tito’s cheeks.

Your eyes search his as the only noise in the library is the sound of the rain against the building and the soft sounds of the workers meandering around. You swear gravity pulls you towards each other, Tito’s hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes softly against your skin, the contact making your heart freeze and speed up all at once.

“Excuse me loves, the library is closing.”

You and Tito smile and nod at the sweet woman, breaking apart slowly before gathering your things and heading out together.

And One

The sun shines high in the sky, easily one of the nicest days on long island in months. Spring was melting away into summer and the warm air had you dying to get out and visit the ocean even if it was just for a little bit.

While Tito knew of your love for the rain, the breakthrough of sun was welcomed by the two of you. It was unspoken that when the sun had risen, and the temperature broke seventy, you wanted to spend a little time at the beach together.

You disliked the beach normally, not liking the sand that gets everywhere, the obnoxious teens yelling loudly, kids running around without parents, it just bothered you. But you loved the feeling of warm wind running through your hair as you drive, windows down, and the smell of the ocean air.

Tito shows up on your doorstep, and without a word, you two are out the door and heading towards your car. You climb in, hands immediately rolling down your windows and sunroof while Tito picks the music. You had an unspoken communication to go to the beach today and you were beyond excited.

Tito always looked gorgeous to you. In the sun? His blue eyes shine a bit brighter, his smile seeming to reflect the warmth that the sun brought you inside and out. He was breathtaking.

You were a work of art to Tito. Your hair blew back from your face, whipping around the small space. A light smile had been present since he showed up on your doorstep. Your (y/e/c) lit up from the sun and him. From head to toe, he would never grow tired of looking at you.

When you got to the beach, you parked in a spot overlooking the water. The two of you get out of the car, and Tito gestures to the hood. He stands before you, hands placed gently on your hips, and lifts you onto your car with ease, his hockey training coming in handy.

He hops up next to you, settling down on the hood and overlooking the beautiful ocean. His leg touches yours, starting at your feet and following through to your hips. The contact drives you crazy, making it feel like it’s ten degrees hotter as your nerves spike. It’s surprisingly quiet, the ocean rushing in and out before you, a light wind pushing your hair back effortlessly.

Your hands sit in your lap, nervously fiddling together. Tito glances at you constantly, his eyes trailing to your hands and he builds the courage to slip his fingers into yours. At the contact, you squeeze his hand lightly and that gives Tito all he needs.

“Hey,” he says, making you turn to look at him.

His other hand comes up to cup your cheek and you lean into the touch instinctively. His head ducks to meet yours, your noses brushing and your breath catches in your throat. You watch Tito’s eyes flicker back and forth before pushing forward. His lips meet yours and you sigh at the feeling of his lips on yours. Your free hand comes to grip the side of his shirt and pull him as close as possible.

Your breathless the entire kiss, the thought that the older hockey player liking you back finally smacking you full force. His touch lights you up from head to toe and you never want him to break away.

Tito grew more and more confident within the kiss, and his heart continued to balloon in his chest bigger and bigger at your closeness, you were finally right where you were supposed to be.

You pull apart when there’s no breath left in your lungs but stay close. Tito chases your lips pressing another light kiss to them. You giggle at him and he smiles sheepishly, biting his lip slightly and gazing at you with those eyes that had you since you first met. Tito was still on cloud nine at the thought of you loving him back.

“I really really like you,” he whispers and you giggle. He could have said absolutely nothing, he could have kissed you again, or simply kept holding your hand but the words said out loud made your heart do backflips like it was an olympian training for the gold medal.

“I like you too.”

“And I really wanna kiss you again.”

You smile lovingly at him before pressing your lips to his, something that would never fail to make your heart stop.

#anthony beauvillier imagine #nhl imagine #tito beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier fic #anthony beauvillier x reader #anthony beauvillier x y/n #tito beauvillier fic #tito beauvillier x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl islanders fic #imagine #fic #x reader #x y/n

[sourholland]

Ooooh angst “what about us?” “there is no us, there never was.” with tom plssss! Really love ur work 🌸

Last Kiss || Tom Holland

Summary → After a fling you and Tom had started while filming a movie together, he tells you that you two can’t be together anymore. Once you get home, Tom let’s you know that he made a mistake.

AN → This was supposed to come out yesterday, I just got lazy and waited to edit it. I can’t tell if I like how this came out or hate it, either way, I hope you guys like this. Also in honor of the Fearless re-record!!

Pairing(s) → Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Warnings → Strong Language, Suggestive, Alcohol Use

Prompt(s) → 38

Word Count → 1.9k

The ringing of your phone sounded through your apartment loudly, the sound of the rain pattering loudly against the windows out-looking New York City. You set down the remote, feet padding against the cold hardwood while you looked for your buzzing cellphone.

You didn’t bother glancing at the caller ID, picking it up bringing it to your ear all in one quick motion.

“Hello?” You said, pulling a wine glass down from the cabinet.

“Y/N?” Tom’s voice came through the phone.

Your heart dropped, a breath catching in your throat while you stood in your kitchen. He was across the country, wanting nothing to do with you. He repeated your name through the phone, asking if you were there.

“Yeah, I’m here,” you answered, pouring more wine than you’d originally intended into the glass.

“Isn’t it like one in the morning in England?” You asked, listening to the muffles coming through the speaker.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s late here. I just couldn’t sleep, and I started to think of you. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have called.”

You sat at one of the barstools, swirling the red contents of the glass around. You wanted to yell at him, or maybe you wanted to tell him how much you loved him. You sat silently for a few moments, bare legs cold from the draft.

“Tom,” you started. “I just don’t get why we have to rehash the past, you know? I came back to New York, just like you told me I should. You’re working on whatever new movie, I’m doing the same. I don’t know—I just think we should leave whatever happened between us alone. You made it very clear that it was me that you didn’t want,” you mumbled, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater.

He audibly sighed, the ruffling of sheets coming through the phone. He was probably in bed, if he wasn’t so far away you’d have asked him if this was a sad attempt at getting you to sleep with him.

“I was fucking stupid, and I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry, I’ve said that a million times,” his voice was hoarse and tired.

“I’ve already forgiven you, Tom. I just can’t keep doing this—this thing with you.”

You both went quiet for a minute, the only sound being the noise from outside in the bustling streets of the city and the rain. You knew you should hang up, block his number and forget about anything you two ever had. You’d tried a few times, unable to bring yourself to doing it.

“What about us?” He asked lowly, a twinge of hurt in his tired voice.

“There is no us, Tom,” you replied. “I’m not even sure there ever was.”

He didn’t say anything, you wanted to let out the repressed cry and tell him you didn’t mean it. That you were sorry and that you thought about him more than you’d like to admit. Something in you knew if you didn’t do your best to cut it off, you two would continue down the same everlasting cycle.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then your home screen lit up. The call had been ended. You downed the remainder of your wine, ditching the cup and just going for the bottle. You thought about calling him back, about apologizing and booking a plane ticket like some lovesick teenager.

You opened Instagram and began scrolling through your feed of posts, liking and commenting occasionally. You weren’t anywhere near drunk, merely tipsy and heartbroken. Your finger lingered on the button to go live, wondering if you really wanted thousands of people to see you in this state.

You left the kitchen and instead propped your phone against the couch, taking a seat on the white rug of your living room. You wearily pressed the go live button, raising the bottle to your chapped lips once more. You are pathetic, you thought.

“Hey guys!” You smiled at the camera and outpouring of greetings in the comments. Within a few minutes you’d racked in a few thousand viewers. You grabbed the guitar sitting against your wall and strummed the cords lightly while it sat in your lap.

userone: you are so adorable

usertwo: can you please say hi?!!!??

userthree: it’s my birthday y/n!

“I’m sorry I haven’t been very active on social media, guys. It’s been super crazy traveling back and forth from London to New York and then having to leave again in a few weeks. And now I’m sitting on my living room floor with a bottle of wine,” you laughed. A few familiar people popped into the comments of the live, some you’ve worked with and some you’ve yet to meet in person.

florencepugh: y/n!!!

gracieabrams: might just bust out the wine just for u

“Florence, I can’t wait to see you soon!” You smiled, “Gracie, I swear it’s making everything like a hundred times better.”

userfour: i’m in love with her

userfive: y/n saving 2021???!!!

“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to be singing,” you flushed. You did sing, before getting into acting you’d post a lot on Instagram and TikTok. It’d always been more of a hobby, something you loved to do, but weren’t good enough to pursue.

“I’ve had a little too much to drink,” you added. “So don’t get upset if I’m a little pitchy, guys.”

usersix: if she’s pitchy i’m not sure what i am

userseven: sing taylor swift!!!

“Okay, okay!” You chuckled, scrolling through the hundreds of comments saying to play Taylor Swift. You’d only just been crying to like three of her albums a few hours before.

“How about the chorus—and maybe the bridge too, yeah, that’ll work,” you mumbled to yourself, fiddling with the strings. “Alright, guys, Last Kiss it is. I won’t bore you all with the whole thing, though. I could never do Taylor justice.”

“And I’ll go sit on the floor, wearing your clothes”

Getting involved with him was singlehandedly the most stupid decision you’ve ever made, you thought. Late nights in his flat after long nights on set, ordering in and just talking, you two would talk as if you’d known each other your whole lives. It was something about the way he’d let you wear his clothes, or the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear while you told him about whatever insignificant thing that had happened that day.

“All that I know,

I don’t know how to be something you miss”

The car ride to the airport was the worst, it was grey and cold outside. There was makeup running down your face, mascara covering your eyes generously. You’d wrapped filming a week earlier, unable to bring yourself to walk away from him.

You couldn’t tell the driver to turn you around, or could you? Tom had already made it clear that you were both in different places in your career. This wasn’t what he wanted. You weren’t what he wanted.

“I never thought we’d have our last kiss”

He had held you just a little tighter, you ran your fingers through his hair for just a second longer. The taste of each other lingering on the both of your lips. Like you knew it would be the last time he’d hold you without knowing.

His stupid smiled, the way he pulled away and ran his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. You were almost wrapped around his finger, absolutely sickened with desire and infatuation for him.

“I never imagined we’d end like this,

Your name, forever the name on my lips”

The day you’d left to come home to New York started with a huge argument between the two of you. He’d basically just told you that you’d both known from the beginning you wouldn’t last together. It wasn’t a matter of how much you cared for one another, but that it was impossible, as he put it.

His eyes glossed over and bloodshot, you a complete and utter mess. Slamming the door behind you as you left was one of the most painful things you’d ever endured. Even more painful, the fact that he never came after you.

“So I’ll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep”

“I can feel you staring at me, love,” he murmured against the pillow.

Your face heated, eyes averting to the stream of light through the sheerness of the curtains. He leaned into you a moment later, his lips soft on your own. He was warm, he was always so warm. You cupped the side of his face gently, pulling him in a bit harder.

“And I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe”

You dropped your bags, stepping into your apartment after months of being away. It felt quieter than usual, desolate and empty from your being away. It was dark out, the illumination of the bright city lights from your windows.

You glanced down at your phone for a moment, not a missed call, not a text, not even a fucking notification. He’d simply told you to go home, nothing more nothing less.

“I keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are,

Hope it’s nice where you are”

You’d texted Harrison a few times, regretting it almost immediately after. He was sweet, telling you that Tom would come around eventually and to just be patient. You’d relied on those kind words for some time, eventually deleting them all together.

After Tom’s first text, you’d realized he wasn’t coming around or regretting what he’d said to you. He was lonely, maybe even a bit desperate. For months you had been there to listen to him and hold him, and now you were gone.

You’d fed into it the first few times, sitting on the phone with him for hours at a time. Then you started to feel worse hearing his voice, silent sobs escaping as you’d listen to him ramble. Then your finger would linger over the decline button a little longer than usual when he’d call, until eventually you started to use it.

“And I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day,

And something reminds you,

You wish you had stayed”

Once you started to go out with other guys, Tom’s ‘I miss you’ texts became more infrequent. Paparazzi would snap pictures, and the next morning they’d be plastered all over the internet.

There was no doubt he was seeing you going out with other people, watching article after article about who you were dating surface. Would he be jealous? No, you thought. Tom was probably doing the same thing as you. Hopeless hookups, meaningless blind dates.

“You can plan for a change in the weather and time”

One early morning, you found yourself in a sweatshirt you’d stolen from one of his drawers and forgotten to return. Listening to the morning rush of traffic and hugging yourself, noticing the lingering smell of his cologne.

You wondered if he knew you’d taken it, if he would think you were pathetic wearing it months after you two had broken things off. This only made you clutch yourself a little tighter, closing your eyes and trying to remember.

“But I never planned on you changing your mind”

#tom holland imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

[comfortwriting]

Call Out My Name - F.W.

Fred Weasley X Reader imagine inspired by the song ‘Call Out My Name’ by The Weeknd.

Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: Your Feedback will be greatly appreciated! 

About: Fred is constantly in a ‘on and off’ toxic relationship and he uses the reader when he is lonely, overtime she falls in love with him but because she isn’t Fred’s girl - she has no choice but to walk away.

Themes: Heartbreak, unrequited love, sadness, longing.

Warnings: indication of smut, raw feelings of worthlessness, depression and anger.

Staring out of the train window trying to think of something to doodle in your notebook you couldn’t help but feel over the moon that you were going home for the summer, you had never felt like this before and you hated that you did - but after years of being strung along by someone and not being able to stay away from them - this feeling was bittersweet, hell, everything you had gone through was now nothing but bittersweet memories you just wanted to forget, almost like it never happened.

You fell in love with Fred slowly but the more time you spent with him you fell head over heels for him. This whole fiasco - whatever it was you had with Fred started three years ago, your first time spending the summer at The Burrow. Fred’s on and off girlfriend split up with him for the first time, Fred became withdrawn, not wanting to take part in his usual pranks or plan any new inventions with his brother George. At first, you believed that Fred wanted you around because he valued your friendship (a budding romance) and because you made him happy, but overtime you realised that this wasn’t the case at all - unfortunately you were just a stepping stone for him, someone to use when he couldn’t get what he wanted from the ‘love of his life’. 

You put your head in your hands and sighed deeply, the tears slowly pricking at your eyes, slouching in your seat you covered your house scarf (the one that Fred bought you) over your eyes, the memories flashing back to you like they happened yesterday.

We found each other I helped you out of a broken place You gave me comfort But falling for you was my mistake

Fred sat in his bed, his eyes red and puffy from all of the crying “I don’t know what to do, she doesn’t want me anymore” seeing him in such a state made your heartache, you had never seen him like this before - you were used to him bouncing around, always laughing and getting up to no good, not crying in bed too sad to be himself.

You sat on his bed and stroked his short hair that had been cut a few weeks ago “It’s going to be okay” you smiled at him softly “I know it might be too much to ask but why don’t we go for a walk? Get away from all the noise in this house, just this once.” you encouraged him.  

Fred contemplated your offer for a moment and then nodded “I can do that” he smiled, slowly getting out of bed. What started off as ‘just this once’ turned into routine - you and Fred going for stupidly long walks every morning you were at the burrow. 

Remembering the first time your hands brushed up against one another used to make the butterflies in your stomach soar but now all it does is hurt worse than before - rain now pattering down on the window.

Within months you and Fred did everything together, morning walks, quidditch in the afternoon basking in the warmth and orange glow of the sun, and then in the evenings you two would sneak downstairs whilst everyone lay asleep in bed.

“Hey Y/N” Fred whispered through the crack in the door, trying not to wake everyone up “fancy popping on one of those muggle horror movies you keep telling dad about?” 

You turned over, the landing light shining in your eyes and smirked at Fred, mirroring him “go on then.” 

Clutching your chest you could feel the pain of this memory hit you like a tonne of bricks, taking deep breaths you tried so hard to bring yourself back into the present moment... on the way home... leaving Hogwarts...but it didn’t work, like a leaf in the wind you were pushed back in relieving what you just wanted to forget.

The old and scratchy patchwork blanket sat over you and Fred, out of the corner of your eye you caught Fred glancing at you and smiling to himself. Turning to face him you asked what was so funny “nothing” he replied, yet he leaned in closer, his nose almost touching yours. Giving in, the two of you shared your first kiss and you could’ve sworn you felt sparks igniting within you. 

You brushed your fingers over your soft lonely lips reminiscing more of the memories that popped into your head as if they were being played on film. 

A few evenings later you and Fred were on the same sofa, covered by the same scratchy old patchwork blanket in the dead of night, yet this time instead this kiss lead to something much more, instead of sparks simply just igniting, burst into the biggest and most beautiful firework as you and Fred shared such an intimate moment together.

George had to admit that although he felt left out, he couldn’t deny how much happier Fred became when you were around - he started being himself again; pranking Ron and annoying Percy like it was going out of fashion.

But you had no idea that whatever you had with Fred would turn into the most intense rollercoaster ride you had ever been on.

I put you on top, I put you on top I claimed you so proud and openly

For the first time in your life you put another person before you and you deemed such an act ‘worth it’ at the time because you made mistakes out of your pure love for Fred, but you realised all you were doing was burning yourself out to keep Fred alight. Instead of getting perfect grades, you found yourself in enough detentions for everyone in your house.

In your mind Fred was yours, your boyfriend and he made you feel on top of the world and all you wanted to do was share your feelings and relationship to the world. Every Saturday morning you would be sat waiting at the Quidditch pitch to cheer on Fred, regardless whether it was a match or just practice.

You would write to your family and friends, telling them all about the soft haired troublemaker who swept you off your feet. “Looks like you’ve got another letter” George mentioned one morning over breakfast, your owl swooping up ahead delivering a reply. 

You smiled widely and nodded “Of course I do!” you giggled “My parents can’t wait to meet Fred this Christmas!”

George’s face dropped at your excitement, he cleared his throat awkwardly “I’m really sorry Y/N but did Fred tell you?” he asked, giving you a deep look of sympathy. 

You scowled and shook your head wondering what would get in the way of your perfect plans “tell me what?” 

George stayed silent for a moment but he tried his best to let you down gently “He’s back in contact with his ex, they’re working things out.”

And when times were rough, when times were rough I made sure I held you close to me

And for the second time, Fred came crying into your arms looking like he had been torn apart “She doesn’t think it’s going to work out, she said that it’s not the right time” you held him in your arms, cuddling on the sofa in the common room, rubbing his back with one hand and stroking his now long shoulder length hair with the other, you reassured him. 

“It’s going to be okay Freddie, you got yourself back on track last time and you’re capable of going it again sweetheart” you reminded him “you’ve got me and George, remember.” 

Within the months that came after, you two were inseparable once again, going to Hogsmeade on the weekends raiding Honeydukes and sharing a butterbeer or two in the Three Broomsticks but as always and like George predicted, once Fred’s girl came back into the picture, he dropped you again. 

You managed to break from your flashbacks for a moment, removing the scarf from your face. Checking your watch you had another hour or so until you would be arriving at Kings Cross Station, you slumped back down in your seat and doodled broken hearts and tears onto your open love letters to Fred, now hidden in your notebook.

So call out my name (call out my name) Call out my name when I kiss you so gently I want you to stay (I want you to stay) I want you to stay, even though you don't want me

“Well from the sounds of things you’re not in a serious relationship” you mentioned to Fred, taking off your muddy robes. George shook his head at you almost telling you off but you were both getting frustrated, the only difference is that you didn’t want to keep quiet anymore. 

“Not yet but I’m waiting for her” Fred said eagerly removing his robes too, George could feel the tension in the air and went to the common room.

“So what about us?” you asked bravely, your heart begging to hear what it wanted most. 

Allowing the last of your confidence that Fred had wiped away overtime, you walked towards him and cupped his face, kissing him softly, trying to convince him that you were the one worth waiting for but no matter what, deep down in your heart you knew Fred was thinking about her.

Fred kissed back and chuckled “us?” he flashed you a confused look “we’re the same as we’ve ever been, as we’ll always be” you felt crushed, this wasn’t the answer you were hoping for (and you now owed George all of your exploding bonbons) but you accepted your fate and left to find George so you could cry in his arms. 

“He never truly wanted me, did he?” You asked George, tears running down your cheeks. 

George shook his head “It’s always been about her Y/N, I���m sorry” you hugged George and cried into his chest whilst he held you.

“why can’t I be Fred’s girl?” 

Torturing yourself beyond repair you couldn’t stay away from Fred, no matter how hard you tried. You still found yourself supporting him at Quidditch, helping him study, you even engaged in conversation with him about his girl, how amazing she was and how happy she made him. You knew if he had the chance Fred would transform you into her if a single project came down to it.

Girl, why can't you wait? (Why can't you wait, baby?) Girl, why can't you wait 'til I fall out of love? Won't you call out my name? (Call out my name) Girl, call out my name, and I'll be on my way

Clutching your date and dancing lazily to the music you stared at Fred having the time of his life with the girl of his dreams on his arm, beaming up at him. You hoped this ball and your date would help you find a new spark and create new fireworks yet with every opportunity to do so all you did was wish for Fred, stare at him and act as if he were to realise you were the one with any coming moment - but it didn’t happen yet, it would never happen. You kept wishing over and over in your head for Fred to turn around, meet your gaze and to become blinded by your beauty when you had another admirer trying to break down your cold persona. 

I said I didn't feel nothing baby, but I lied I almost cut a piece of myself for your life Guess I was just another pit stop 'Til you made up your mind You just wasted my time

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Fred asked, taking a bite out of his toast “Mum and dad are really keen to meet her and she’s never been able to visit over the summer before and with everyone else there we just wouldn’t have the room.”

The two of you continued to walk towards the castle, George following not far behind.

Fred was now inviting his girlfriend to stay with him at the burrow this summer, something you had always done up until this very moment - this was the moment you realised that everything had been a lie, Fred never cared, he never loved you, he had just used you each and every time the love of his life got bored, only to drop you as soon as she wanted him back. 

“Yeah it’s fine, I understand completely” you lied, feeling anger, despair and insecure like you had never before “I’ll just see you at the shop once the ball gets rolling.” Earlier in the year Fred offered you a job to help out with him and George at the shop, placing your own career plan at the ministry on hold.

“Oh bugger” Fred stopped his tracks looking a bit stressed “that's another thing i forgot to mention, we won’t be needing you to help out anymore as-”

“she’s helping out instead” you cut Fred off, finally reaching your breaking point you ran away from Fred and went to your dorm, packing your trunk. 

You're on top, I put you on top I claimed you so proud and openly, babe And when times were rough, when times were rough I made sure I held you close to me

“Are you seriously running back to him after what he did?” 

“He isn’t like that! you don’t understand, you can’t judge him - you don’t even know him!”

So call out my name (call out my name, baby) So call out my name when I kiss you So gently, I want you to stay (I want you to stay) I want you to stay even though you don't want me Girl, why can't you wait? (Girl, why can't you wait 'til I) Girl, why can't you wait 'til I fall out of loving? Babe, call out my name (say call out my name, baby) Girl, call out my name, and I'll be on my way, girl I'll be on my

Jolting awake the train came to a stop, you had finally arrived at the station. Taking a deep breath you picked up your trunk and notebook, getting off the train your scarf slipped off but you were too busy trying to spot your parents to notice. This was it, no more Hogwarts, you didn’t want to look back.

Feeling faint you ran into the toilets, throwing up the last of your pumpkin juice from the ride home, you stared at yourself in the mirror, washing your hands and splashing your face.

“Why can’t I be Fred’s girl?” You asked yourself.

On my way, all the way On my way, all the way, ooh On my way, on my way, on my way On my way, on my way, on my way (On my)

Reaching the exit of the station you spotted The Weasleys, welcoming Fred’s new girlfriend into a tight hug with delighted expressions on their faces. You looked to George and he gave a sad smile, he wanted to say goodbye but even that would be too painful for you to handle; after all, you weren’t just losing Fred, you were losing George, Molly and the rest of the family you loved so much.

Before you could turn around and continue to look for your family, Fred noticed you, he stopped for a moment and waved, holding your scarf up in his hands and shaking it. 

You wanted more than anything to run to Fred and collect it but instead you didn’t wave back or smile, you shook your head and spun on your heel, acting as if he were never there at all. 

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fanfic #imagines #one shots #oneshot #HP #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #george weasley

[parkers-gal]

ooo can u do something fluffy with a best friends to lovers where peter and the reader are reading on a rainy day and he’s just staring at her? maybe with a stark! reader by i’m a sucker for those too lol<3 stay safe!

hope u like it!; wc: 1k

requests are open

—

Maybe it was typical for Peter to be studying on a weekend, but it was definitely a little weird that he’d study on a three-day weekend. He’d stayed out later than usual on patrol, and of course he was still a bit tired even after sleeping in a few hours, but he knew he needed to study now or he’d never get these physics concepts down. 

You had joined him on the shaggy, soft rug, sitting beside his seat on the floor. He’d already been working for a good two hours by the time you showed up with a tray full of snacks and your favorite movie on disk. You were sipping some lemonade, the sound of Peter scribbling away on his paper with a simple blue pen echoing slightly. Your movie had ended, and now you were watching Bucky and Steve play ping pong in the corner. 

Peter’s brain was fried, but with you there he didn’t see a reason as to why he couldn’t take a break. He was already finished with his homework for the next week, having just prepared himself for the next lessons. Closing the cap of his pen, he set it in the crack of the book, watching as you made side comments and giggled at a few of their mistakes in playing table tennis.

Even through your giggles and gurgles, he could hear the New York rain pitter-pattering on the windows and pavement, thundering down on the concrete jungle that was the city. The rain soothed him and yet, terrified him all at once. Suddenly he realized you were wearing one of your rainy day outfits, as you had called them; you were wearing his grey sweater. The realization made him blush. He looks at his lap as he fiddles with the tie of his grey sweatpants. 

You patted your knee as you laughed at Bucky’s failed attempt in scoring a point. Peter’s eyes marvel the shape of your voice, your jawline and smooth smile, your eyebrows and your nose too. He focused on the beat of your heart, smiling at how fast it was going. He cherished your laugh, and suddenly wondered why he never had the courage to ask if you felt as strongly for him as he did for you. 

Maybe it was your dad, he often thought to himself. But he also realized that was a stretch. Tony loved Peter, but hated the idea of his baby girl growing up and getting boyfriends or girlfriends. Tony wanted you safe, but he also knew Peter was a certain exception. Peter was different, that was for sure. 

Maybe it was the fear of losing you, of hearing your soft rejection, empathy lacing your tone as you told him “Peter, you know I love you, but-.” He didn’t want to hear those words from your mouth ever in his life. He feared what your friendship would become if you didn’t feel the same way, if this love was all one-sided and every clue was just in Peter’s head. 

Maybe it was the realization that once he voiced his feelings, they’d become real. Of course, he knows they’re as real as ever in his head, but when somebody else knows, there’s no going back. Not that it would matter, because he knew it was probably obvious to anyone that could read Peter well, to anyone from the outer perspective. He had suspicions that Wanda and Clint were gossiping about when the two college kids will get together, but he never brought anything up. Especially in front of you; he could barely keep his cool around you anymore. 

His heart beated wildly, his palms grew sweaty and his lips failed him as he stuttered erratically, exponentially. You made him nervous, and yet, he loved the feeling. He loves the way you make him feel; he wants to feel it forever. He wants it to be his new normal. He wants you to be his new normal. 

“Petey?” You bring him out of his head and into the reality that is the world. 

He blushes upon realizing that he was staring at you, lost in thinking about how strongly he feels for you. Scratching his neck, he dares to glance up into your eyes. 

“Yeah?”

He realizes the rain has grown a bit louder, thunder and lightning coming regularly. You look as if the unexpected noises and flashes have momentarily frightened you, and suddenly, he knows what you need. He opens his arms, inviting you into his embrace. 

What he doesn’t expect is for you to sit directly into his lap. It doesn’t bother him — no, it never could — but it does surprise him. You nuzzle into his neck, and Peter’s heart aches at the affection. He wants meaning behind the touches and lingering gazes. He wants there to be more.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, Pete?”

He clears his throat. “Have you ever… felt so strongly for someone that it scared you?” He feels your hums against his chest and collarbone. He shivers. 

“Yes.” He swallows thickly at your reply. “Why? Do you feel that?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out the confession with a sigh. “I do.” 

You pick your head up to look at the brown-haired boy. “Really?”

He nods. “Sometimes… sometimes I’ll just- I’ll just stare at her for hours and think about my feelings. They’re so strong; May thinks I’ve found my Ben Parker.” Your eyes widen at the name drop of his late uncle. Peter never mentions him, and though you’re noticeably taken aback, he doesn’t falter or stutter, but instead keeps the confession going. 

“Does… does she feel the same?”

“I don’t know.”

You sigh, looking up at him. He marvels at you, eyes lost in your orbs. He’s quiet for a good few minutes and suddenly, you realize he’s been staring at you this entire day. 

“Petey?”

“Yeah?”

For once, you look into his eyes too. “Am I the May to your Ben?” Your fingers trace the hem of his sweater. “Because you're the Ben to my May.”

#peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x you #college!peter parker #best friend!peter parker #best friends to lovers #peter parker fluff #peter parker blurb #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluffy #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction

[shysneeze]

i’m in love with you (george weasley x fem!reader)

I’m in Love With You 

Post War George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Request:  Okay idk if you’d be up to it but I’m currently obsessed w the song Please Notice by Christian Leave and so I was thinking a George weasley x reader fic inspired by/based off of/same kinda vibe imagine. Do you understand that lol I feel like I said it in a confusing way, crossing my fingers that you’re pickin up what I’m putting down. Lol ily bye. ~ anon

Warning: angsty (but fluff I promise this time), self-doubt etc...

Authors note: this is a cliché, but it’s one you can pry from my cold dead hands

.

George has never been a huge fan of silence, it’s not something he’s ever been used to, growing up in a house full of the constant noise of familial ruckus, and so weekends without Fred such as this are something that’s always made him feel ever so slightly uneasy, listening only to the repetitive patter of rain on the windows and static whirring of a record he’s gotten too distracted to flip spinning idly in the corner.

The creak of his bedroom door opening is a welcome sound, followed by the gentle shuffle of light footsteps along the corridor before she appears before him, a much healthier and warmer version of herself, nothing like the teary-eyed (Y/N) (Y/L/N) he pulled from his doorstep and out of the rain only ten minutes previous.

“Hey.” She gives a sheepish wave.  

Years as best friends should prepare him for the sight of her in his clothes, borrowed jumpers and stolen socks such a pivotal part of their friendship back in Hogwarts that he shouldn’t be startled by how gorgeous she looks in them, but he always  is.

“Hey.” He manages a kind smile. “Any warmer?”

The subtle drop of her gaze to the floor warns him that she’s about to tell him a white-lie and his eyes cling to the way her hands still tremble with the cold. Then, just as he’s predicted, she gives him an unconvincing ‘yep’.

It wasn’t how he was expecting his evening to go, he’d already surrender himself to an evening spent on the couch listening to his favourite songs when there was a knock on his door. The time and weather instantly led him to the assumption of bad news, and for all the outlandish theories and anxious assumptions he concocted on his way to the door, none involved his rain-soaked best friend shivering on his door step.

A sputtered apology was all she managed before he pulled her into his flat in a protective panic, fetching her a towel instantly and setting out a change of clothes with no request of an explanation for her visit, promising himself only to ask once he’s sure she doesn’t have hypothermia.

He’s still not one hundred percent on that part, giving her a knowing look as he crosses the space between them to push a cup of warm tea between her frozen fingers. Her shoulders slump in relief at the heat finding her hands, giving him a sheepish, but grateful smile.

“Now I’m warmer.” She assures honestly. “Thank you, Georgie.”

“Figured that might help.” He smiles gently. “Livingroom?”

She nods, mimicking his steps subconsciously as he follows him to from the kitchen to the sofa in the living room, pulling her knees up to her chest and cradling the mug on top of them as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the worn sofa with his legs stretched out across the cushions

She twiddles with the handle of her mug atop her knees, deep in thought as the room falls into silence. Silence with her is the only type George has ever found comforting, the reminder of afternoons spent in the Gryffindor common room, listening only the sound her flipping pages of her book and the crackling of the fire.

“Fred’s out?”

“A ‘couples weekend away’.” George nods. “Him and Angelina are somewhere up north for the anniversary of the first time they ate ice cream together or something daft like that.”

She chuckles softly, her smile summoning one similar to George’s lips. There is always a certain amount of pride in cheering her up, he’s realised, in bringing a smile to cheeks moments ago stained by tears.

“I’m happy for them though.” She adds softly, a sombre sound to her voice that has him on edge. “They’re a cute couple.”

“Insufferable at times.” George says. “But yes, cute.”

She exhales a quiet sigh, dropping her head tiredly to the cushion beside.

“I got stood up… again.”

He drops his shoulder in a display of sympathy, pushing down the initial aggressive protectiveness that dares him to ask for the name and address of the person stupid enough to ever hurt her. It’s clear from the forlorn look in her eyes that she needs someone to listen to her, not to avenge her.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” He says. “Whoever they were, they were an idiot.”

“Thanks, Georgie.” She says softly. “I just really needed a friend tonight so thank you.”

He tries to ignore how the word stings, ‘friend’. It’s a sting he’s been trying to ignore for years, it should be second nature by now, but it still stirs that feeling he hates, the one that makes him feel ungrateful, because being her friend should be enough.

He hates that it never has been.

It was what he assumed was a harmless crush at first, back at Hogwarts, one he was sure he would grow out of, no matter how many times Fred tried to tell him otherwise. Much to his dismay, Fred was right, and every year it got harder and harder to ignore, even after school.

By now, the word ‘crush’ doesn’t seem to cut it, too childish to possibly explain the irresistible torture that is his love for (Y/N) (Y/L/N). He’s not sure there is a word to describe such a feeling, the way it fills his heart with warmth but aches at the same time, an ache he’d happily experience forever just to be near her.

Now he pushes that sting deep down where he can barely notice it in order to deal with the issue at hand, the girl sat across from him with sad eyes and fallen smile.

“You can rant to me.” He assures. “I don’t mind.”

She takes a moment to give in to his offer encouraged by the sincerity in his warm brown eyes from across the sofa and the nudge to her feet from his. Biting her lip nervously and with a deep breath, she begins to explain.

“I’m not saying he was the love of my life or anything.” She disclaims. “It was only our second date, but it still hurt when he just... didn’t show up.”

“I can imagine.”

“I was just sat in that restaurant staring at the door waiting for this guy I knew deep down wasn’t going to show.” She explains. “He could have just called; told me he wasn’t interested, and it would have been less embarrassing.”

“Guys are idiots, Love.” George says. “Take it from a professional.”

She rolls her eyes lightly at the comment, ready to scold his self-deprecation when she seems to lose the momentum as quickly as she found it, instead sinking further back against the arm of the sofa with a huffed out breath.

“Is there something about me that people think doesn’t deserve an explanation?” Her voice wobbles. “Aren’t I worth that much?”

His heart breaks into what he’s sure are thousands of little pieces, his breath catching in his throat at the tears that spring to her eyes. He pulls his legs back and shuffles towards her end of the sofa as she hides her face behind her knees.

Gentle tugging the tea from her fingers, he places it on the coffee table before pushing her knees down, guiding her legs across his lap, squeezing her knee to urge her to look up and meet his eyes. She sniffles softly as she lifts her head, gulping at the softness in his warm brown eyes.

“You are worth so much more.” He explains. “I’m so sorry they made you feel like you weren’t.”

“I guess I just feel… unlovable.” She confesses.

Frustration forces itself out of his lungs in a long sigh, startling her slightly. It almost hurts to listen to her talk about herself, ‘unlovable’, as if he isn’t sat in front of her, undoubtedly in love with her. It’s not the first time he’s wished she would notice, where life would be so much easier if she could just look at him and see instantly how in love with her he is.

If only she could see how he blushes when he makes her laugh, how even in crowded rooms, he has only eyes for her and how, sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t help but fumble over his words when she talks to him.

“You’re not.” He shakes his head slowly. “Trust me.”

It’s a miniscule confession, one he doubts she’s going to pick up on until he can see something flicker across her eyes, realisation perhaps. It fades as quickly as it appeared, as though in only a millisecond she considered and dismissed the notion.

However, George has taken the first steps down a dangerous path, there is no going back no matter how fast the beating of his nervous heart.

“You’re the amazing, (Y/N).” He continues. “I hate that other people can’t see that, but I do.”

“George-“

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).”

“George please…” She exhales shakily, desperately. “Please don’t tell me this if you don’t mean it, if you’re just trying to cheer me up- please, George.”

“I do mean it, (Y/N).” He assures frantically. “Merlin, (Y/N), I love everything about you, the way you sing under your breath when you think no one’s listening, how you mimic the facial expressions of the characters in books without even noticing you’re doing it, how you get the hiccups when you laugh too much- blood hell, (Y/N), you’re laugh is the most gorgeous sound in the world.”

He’s in love with every single one of her quirks and habits; the lucky penny she’s taken to every single one of his quidditch matches, the pressed flowers she uses as bookmarks, and her pockets that are always full of plasters and healing cream… He could get carried away with listing them all, he has to restrain himself from doing so, bringing himself back with a sigh.

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He repeats in confirmation. “And I can’t stand to hear you doubt yourself over and over because of some idiots who don’t know how lucky they are to even be considered by you.”

The tears that trickle down her cheeks fill him instantly with panic, sure he’s ruined it all as she wipes frantically at her eyes. The room fills with silence again, though George can only hear the thumping of his own heart in his ears, drowning out the rain and the record still spinning pointlessly in the corner of the room.

He’s done exactly what he was afraid of; he’s let his feeling pull apart the friendship that should have been enough for him. This hurts more than the ache of loving her ever has, the wretched torture of rejection.

“I shouldn’t-“ He mumbles. “I shouldn’t have done that-“

“Do you know how often I have imagined you saying those words to me?”

Her voice is cracked, much how it was when he first opened the door to her this evening, with disbelieving edge to her voice. The pain in his chest untwists itself slowly, replaying the words over and over in his head, until he’s sure he’s imagined it.

“What?”

“I love you, George.” She confesses. “Every disastrous date I’ve ever been on has been in an attempt to pretend I don’t. but I do, I really do.”

“You love me?”

The words feel foreign in his mind, he’s never allowed himself to imagine it before, that she could ever possibly love him back. Yet here she is, sat on his couch and wearing his clothes, tell him that she does.

“Yes, George.” She gasps incredulously. “I do, and only in my daydreams have you ever loved me back.”

Warmth fills him slowly, then rushes in all at once as the words finally sink in and he’s able to convince himself he isn’t stuck in some daydream of his own. His grin spreads slowly up his cheeks, contagious as it is soon mimicked on her own teary cheeks.

“You love me.”

“Yes.” She lets out a breathy laugh.

“Bloody hell.”

Her head tips back in a hysterical burst of laughter.

“You can’t just say ‘Bloody hell’ after I’ve confessed my undying love!”

“You cried when I confessed mine!” He retorts, chest vibrating with a laugh of his own. “This is surreal.”

Laughter fading to a grin, she looks at him with a new found light, a twinkle he’s very quickly added to the never ending list of thing he loves about her.

“I can’t believe you love me.” She says softly.

He does something he’s only ever dreamt of before, reaching out with one hand and cupping her cheek, grazing his thumb gently over the map of stains from what he knows now, were happy tears. He can feel her skin warm beneath his touch and tries his best not to smirk, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“This can’t be real.” He whispers.

“I know.” She smiles softly in agreement. “It’s all too perfect.”

“Is it immoral for me to kiss you after you’ve just been stood up?”

She snorts quietly at the question, shaking her head in reassurance and curling her finger around a handful of his jumper, pulling him closer.

“I think I was meant to be stood up.” She admits. “As cliché as it might sound, it led me here.”

“You’re right.” He mumbles, lips inches from hers. “That is very soppy.”

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

He’s tugged into her lips in less than a second. It’s better than he’s ever allowed himself to imagine during those lonely evenings spent staring at his ceiling, it’s everything to him. She moves her lips with his eagerly, as if she would be happy to the spend the rest of her life with him in this moment.

She’s perfect, it’s a fact he’s known since they were seventeen, but never has it been more true than this moment, tangled together in a kiss they’ve both been longing for in secret for far too long. All this time he’s not been the only one with what felt like an unattainable crush, no the only one suffering the ache of a heart in love.

“You’re amazing.” He exhales against her lips, eliciting one of those gorgeous laughs. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Georgie.”

“I’d listen to you say that all day.”

“Who’s the soppy one now?”

“Hm, just don’t tell Fred.”

 .

authors note; v v rushed, if i didnt put it out though, I would spend all week on it and I have a mountain of uni work to do so meh, also drinking game: drink every time unless ur underage pls they confess their love... can you tell i’m super impressed by myself this time?

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george x reader #george imagine #fred and george #george weasley

[dioko]

It Would Be so Pretty to Leave, so Easy to.

Bakugou x gn! reader

Word Count: 1113

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki wakes up in the middle of the night to find you in a crummy state after having a nightmare.

Includes: Chronophobia (maybe. important warning though, so i thought id stay on the safer side), Bakugou/reader pairing, fluff

------

Your eyes snapped open in the dead of night, breaths heavy.

It was pitch black outside, except for a street light that lit up the window near Katsuki’s bed. Fat droplets of rain could be seen pattering harshly against the window, and you took your time to soak in its noise. It wasn’t loud, but it sure was soothing. It thundered a little, but you weren’t afraid; it was quite far away. Here, as you lay in bed, it might as well have sounded just as calming as the rain.

Tangled in your covers, you could still feel the rapid thumping inside your chest, never slowing down despite already being awake. This was a panic the sound of the storm had failed to take away from you. Your face began to heat up as fragments of your nightmare reappeared in your head, and a sudden lump welled up inside your throat.

Bakugou Katsuki was a light sleeper; the small, strangled whimper in your throat was bound to have woken him up beside you.

When a blob of tears blurred your vision, you tried to turn around, to no avail. C’mon, you thought to yourself, it’s like 3 AM. Now is not the time to bother Katsuki. Too late, though.

“Ngh,” his voice was still cracked and quavering from fatigue. “C’mere.”

Without waiting for a response, you felt an arm wrap around your side and yank you (quite harshly) into a bare chest. Typically, you’d be happy to hold right back on to him, but today you were matted and sweaty - your clothing stubbornly clinging onto your torso. “‘Suki,” you muttered, pushing away from him.

“What - wait, you’re crying.” He looked confused, “S-sorry - why are you crying?”

“S’not you,” you laughed a little, “just a nightmare.”

You could see his figure nod in the dark. It fell into a comfortable silence as he rolled away from you, allowing a breeze of cool air to finally soothe you a bit.

“Want to talk about it?” Katsuki asked, after a few moments of quiet.

“Hm…” you hummed. Your thoughts were still jumbled; what was the best way to phrase everything?

“I have dreams often,” your voice was quiet, but you were sure he could hear you fine. “They’re not very memorable ones; they’re… I guess they’re typical dreams.”

The blond stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“Most nightmares are normal, right?” It was a rhetorical question. “I’ve had a couple of real nightmares. They stick with me for days - weeks - at a time. I think this was one of them.

You’re a hero, ‘Suki. I don’ think you know what it feels like to run from something. I was running from something in that dream. ‘Kept chasing me. I was in a city.”

“This one?”

“No. Just… a city. It cornered me, in an ally and started to beat me up,” you couldn’t help but laugh. Now that you said it out loud, it sounded a little ridiculous.

“Impossible,” Bakugou played with your hair as you spun your tale, “that’s how you know it was just a dream. If it was real, you woulda handed their asses to them - or, I would have come and fucked shit up for you.”

You giggled a little, though it sounded a little more like a croak.

“S’not the worst part,” you murmured. “Something - someone came to me. He asked if I wanted to leave with him. He said I could stay here or leave it behind,” it was easy to remember what the scenery looked like now: it was dark and muddy, with musky air and dim lights. To leave was light - clear, unlike the city. It would be so pretty to leave, so easy to. “I stayed,” you smiled.

“...and?”

“Lost years of my life.”

“What?”

“I mean - like the scene changed, you know, when dreams do that… thing. Lost years. Time passed without my knowing and I got left behind.”

Silence.

“I don’t - I’m scared, Katsuki. What if I’m not using the time I have now correctly? What if it’s all just a waste? I don’t want my life to pass by in a flash, with regret after regret after regret. That sounds horrible.” It was quiet for a few more seconds, like Bakugou wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to properly word it.

“Then change it. Don’t live in a cage.”

“What?” You sniffed.

“Start doing whatever you want. Erase your regrets and never let them get a hold of you. S’your life, you get to run it however you want. So… do that.”

“Oh.”

Bakugou was perceptive. He caught on to the way you held on to him, how you clung to him no matter what position you were lying in, the way you restlessly rubbed his arms back and forth. Like you were afraid he was just going to fade away.

Like you were afraid he wasn’t real.

“Hey… y/n,” he sounded serious. “Where was I, in your dream?”

“Dunno,” By now, the matted, sticky, post-nightmare feelings had worn off, and you took the opportunity to slide a hand around Bakugou’s neck, bringing him a little closer to you. “I remember thinking of you. I suppose you left. Thought I lost you, or something.”

You didn’t say it aloud, but in your mind, that may have been the most horrifying part of the nightmare. Losing Bakugou Katsuki.

“That’s bullshit,” he grunted. As rough as his words sounded, his eyes gave away his true emotions. Disbelief. Fear, maybe. “M’not gonna leave you.”

“I know.”

“Good. Also, you’re wrong.”

“‘Bout what?”

“I do know what it feels like to run away from something. Running away doesn’t always mean you’ve given up. Don’t be fooled. Sometimes an escape is okay.”

“But that’s cowardly-”

“You think it’s cowardly to prioritize yourself once in a while?”

“... guess it isn’t when you put it like that.”

“See? I’m always right,” he joked, “you can trust me, y/n.”

Your name suited his voice so, so well.

“I know,” you smiled at him and he smiled back. It wasn’t teasing, or mischievous, or malicious. It was a true smile, one that you rarely saw on a person like Bakugou Katsuki.

It felt good to know that you were one of the few people who’d ever see it.

“Now go back to bed,” he yawned, “It’s still the middle of the night.”

“What if I dream it up again?”

“I will personally enter your brain and pulverize your nightmare.”

You chuckled. “I love you.”

The rain pattered softly against the window, and the last thing you heard before drifting off again was a soft ‘I love you too’.

a/n: unedited, lemme know if there are typos/grammatical errors :)

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #x reader #fanfiction #my hero academia #mha #katsuki bakugou #mha x reader #fluff fiction #bakugou katsuki x reader #reader pov

[hongism]

the little things - j.yunho

↣ pairing: yunho x reader; mentioned poly ot8 x reader ↣ genre: sfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, fantasy au, witch ateez au ↣ wc: 3.3k ↣ summary: it’s been quite some time since these intrusive thoughts came around, but whenever they do, there’s always one person in particular who comes to brush them away. ↣ warnings: mentions of intrusive thoughts, seasonal depression, and general Sad Feelings

The soft pitter-patter of raindrops drums against the window, filling it with strewn and random patterns of the water that falls from the sky, and you watch the movements with a blank mind. It’s a cold and resigned feeling that blossoms in your gut as you sit by the windowsill, elbow propped up on the wood and chin resting atop your clenched fist. You could sit here for hours just examining each little dragging drop on the glass, maybe even seeing which drop can reach the bottom of the window fastest, but instead, you pull back with a quiet sigh falling from your lips.

Winter.

You aren’t sure how to explain it but the season is simultaneously your favorite and least favorite wrapped into one lovely little bundle. The air outside isn’t quite cold enough to let snow fall and stick to the ground quite yet — hence the rain — but the season brings you as much joy as it does pain and emptiness. You enjoy the snow and seeing what kinds of animals hustle and bustle in their winter coats outside your cottage, and you love seeing the way the sun bounces off the icy lakes and rivers nearby or how the evergreen trees catch hold of little snowflakes. But those are just temporary things that don’t last in the long run because you cannot shake the dismal feeling that begins to enter your gut around autumn.

Living alone in your little cottage has its perks, of course, although they always seem few and far between when it comes time for this seasonal plague to grip your mind. Work is always most busy in the winter as well, which only adds to your despondent mood when you cannot spend more than an hour in the presence of your lovers. So really, it’s one bad thing after another, a myriad of bad to worse that leaves you in tears at the end of the day more often than not.

You should probably be working now, at least filling next week’s orders or double-checking the ones you finished bottling earlier today. There is hardly any energy in you right now though, so the best you can do is blink a few times and stare out the window again.

It’s in times like these when you truly consider Seonghwa’s never-ending offer. The season wouldn’t be nearly so difficult if you lived with the rest of them in the coven’s home. Yet it is near impossible for you to entertain the thought while in this state. Your mind prefers to be less than kind and give you endless scenarios that have you biting back tears and crying yourself to sleep.

Maybe they don’t really want you. They have each other. Why would they need you on top of that? Seonghwa just pities you because you act so pathetic. You would just be a burden if you lived with them. You aren’t a witch like they are, you don’t have any magical abilities in you, what could you provide? They can do all the things you do in half the time surely. You are, quite literally, useless in their eyes.

Sometimes the thoughts become more cruel and harsh than that, all following the same theme of not being needed or wanted. And as much as you want to rely on them for comfort and support, you lose the internal battles more often so you resign yourself to sitting in a bed of your own tears and heartbreak. Fall asleep eventually, wake up, work until you cannot stand anymore, then repeat the process.

This week alone has seemed to pack more of a punch than any of the previous years of this seasonal plague, but that could be because you haven’t been through a winter alone like this since before your relationship with the coven started. Last year, Wooyoung and Jongho took to living in your cottage throughout the whole season just to keep you company. Perhaps the reason they are not here this year is because you’ve become too much, too burdensome, too emotionally draining to be around. Logic tells you that is not the case. That melancholy black dog residing in your mind does not.

Someone will surely be by to visit soon given how quiet you’ve been these last few days. You’re shocked that no one has come by sooner, but the second you begin to think about it, the black dog returns to barking loudly where he sits in your thoughts. The noise in your head is so loud and overwhelming that you actually have to push away from the window, shaking your head fervently and jerking out of your chair in a desperate attempt to make it stop.

“Y/n?”

The voice intrudes on your ugly thoughts, and it fills you with panic before anything else. You whip around in your little window seat, eyes immediately looking towards the door to your bedroom which is now cracked open. You can’t see anyone behind the door or in the room, and merely hearing your name did not give you enough clues as to who could possibly be in your home at this time.

“Baby, are you in here?” The noise resounds again, and this time you recognize it better.

Yunho. Why is Yunho here? A shadowy figure pushes past the doorframe, and your lover slips through the opening with his shoulder. You try to hide your signs of panic, furiously blinking away the tears that begin to spring to your eyes. Why is he here? Did someone send him? Maybe they sent him to tell you that the relationship is over. He is best at handling emotionally charged conversations since he’s a fae and can influence thoughts and emotions. Maybe Hongjoong and Seonghwa decided that he would be best for delivering the news or—

“Hi, love, I didn’t know if you were home because you didn’t answer the door.” Yunho pushes a soft smile onto his lips, and as he fully steps into view, you catch sight of the two mugs in his hands. You can’t see the contents in them, but there are small wisps of steam curling up from both as Yunho comes closer to where you’re sitting. “I saw the kettle boiling away though so I figured you wouldn’t up and leave with it still running.”

Yunho doesn’t stop moving until he reaches the window seat, and he extends one of the mugs towards you. The inside of a mix of green of brown, no doubt some type of tea that he’s brewed for you. You take it with a slight nod and restrained smile.

“I know Hongjoong said you didn’t want to be bothered without notice but…” Yunho trails off, cheeks glowing a bit red. “I was worried about you since this time of year is always hard for you.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, but your tone is too clipped and noncommittal to be normal. Yunho surely knows that it is more than a simple white lie. “Did one of them send you?” He most likely knows who you’re talking about, but he shows more confusion than anything else.

“Why would one of them send me?” He asks as he eases down in front of you on the window seat. You blink back with a bit of dazed wonder to your stare, half-expecting Yunho to explain further, but he just sits and waits patiently for you to speak again.

“To – to make the conversation easier?” 

“What conversation?” Yunho leans across the space between your bodies, and his free hand spreads forward to tangle with yours. You let him interlock your fingers. It’s a small comfort that sends shockwaves through your body. It hasn’t even been that long since you last saw one of the witches, but you’re still somehow so desperately touch-starved that just the slight touch has tears springing to your eyes. “Oh, my baby, sweet angel, what’s wrong?”

Yunho pushes forward until he’s all but in your lap at this point, hand tugging the mug free from your hands, and he sets it down beside his own on the windowsill before returning his full attention to you. He tugs you into his embrace, arms folding around your body until he can loop his hands about your waist. 

“Why did you think I came, baby?” He asks once you’re fully secured in his lap. 

“I just — when I saw you — I-I don’t know. M-My mind said that it had to be – that you were here to end things or something. I don’t know, I’m just rambling, I don’t know what I’m saying or what I was thinking. I’m s-sorry, I—”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Y/n,” Yunho interjects, drawing a hand up from your waist to brush over your scalp. “Don’t ever apologize for something you can’t control. Those thoughts are not your fault. Did you want to have them?”

“N-No, of course not, why would I ever want that?” You mumble against Yunho’s shoulder. He hums into your hair, lips pressing a soft kiss to the same spot, then he lifts his chin a bit to rest it atop your head. 

“Then it isn’t something you need to apologize for, baby. Not now, not ever.” You cling tighter to Yunho’s body out of sheer instinct, and he picks up on your grip in less than a second. “Our minds… regardless of how strong and resilient we are, they can be cruel. They can lie to us, tell us awful and heartbreaking things, lead us to believe the impossible with ease. Sometimes it is easier to cave in and listen to those demons rather than reason, but that doesn’t mean you are weak. The strongest person in the universe can be broken by his own mind because that is all part of human nature.”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff out as a few tears begin to soak through Yunho’s tunic. “You aren’t human.” Yunho laughs a bit at your quip, not at all offended by it. Perhaps it’s a bit childish for you to pull that card, but Wooyoung pulls it out every time the pair have a disagreement without fail, so what’s the harm in you using it just this once? 

“Perhaps not, but I still understand emotions and thoughts better than any human could. And having lived for so long, I think—”

“You don’t need to pull the age card,” you whine.

“If you’re going to act like Wooyoung, then I’ll treat you just like him too.”

Admittedly, your mind is still elsewhere and you aren’t fully engaged in the conversation now, head propped on Yunho’s shoulder in such a way so that you can stare out the window and watch the rainfall again. He doesn’t comment on your silence and merely eases the both of you back until he’s leaning against the wall with you neatly draped over his larger form.

“Do you love me?” You ask after some time passes. It catches Yunho a bit off-guard, and his breath hitches sharply, hand pausing in its rhythmic drags over the small of your back.

“Always and forever, baby,” he says once he recovers a bit. He pauses, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he figures out what to say next. “We all love you. We would never lead you on or toy with your feelings. You are more than enough, but never too much. While it’s easy to lose yourself in these feelings of loneliness, we would never blame you for feeling them.”

“Isn’t it hard on you too though?” You ask, balling your fist around the material of his shirt. 

“It’s hard for all of us, darling. Seeing you in pain and hurting is never easy. There are some things we cannot fix though. We can ease the pain for a time, but certain things never go away. Sure, we can make them easier to manage and handle, we can provide methods that will help support you and help you not feel so alone, we can do everything in our power to help you. We cannot pretend to be able to fix you. You have the strength to overcome it; we support you when times are tough and help you up when you fall. Because we love you, care about you, cherish you, and want the best for you. That… that doesn’t make it easy, but it is never easy to work through these sorts of things.”

“How can you be so patient with me?”

“Why would I ever want to rush something that takes time? I don’t need to put a time limit on you, and we certainly don’t have a time limit on our relationship. Thus we are willing to wait as long as it takes even if it just means making winters easier to handle and manage.” Yunho’s hands trace patterns over your skin, slipping under the hem of your shirt to have more contact with you. The sudden chill of his fingers sends goosebumps over you. He cracks a small smile as you shiver in his grasp and tucks you closer to his body without saying anything for several minutes. 

It’s comfortable and needed right now, easing the dull and aching pain in your chest, but as Yunho said, it doesn’t completely take it away. Makes it manageable and easier to breathe. It’s enough, more than you could have asked for, and what you were wanting so desperately. It was just too hard to admit it and voice it to them.

“I did talk with Hongjoong before coming,” Yunho says after letting the silence drag into something warm and comfortable. You hum in acknowledgment, too content in his arms to move in the slightest. “Asked him if we could prepare the guest room.”

“Is someone coming into town?” You mumble through the sudden wave of drowsiness washing over your bones.

“No, I — we... we were hoping that you could come live with us, at least through the end of winter.”

That causes you to perk up, and you sit up, hands firmly planted on Yunho’s chest so you can better look him in the eye.

“What?”

“I know last year Wooyoung and Jongho came to live in with you, but we were thinking that perhaps it would be easier on you if you just came to live with us. It doesn’t have to be permanent if you don’t want it to be. Don’t – it isn’t meant to pressure you or anything like that. Merely an offer. Something we can do to help you. I figured having a room to yourself would give you an opportunity to have a space on your own for when you need it. The goal isn’t to eliminate all your alone time, as that is just as important as spending time with others, but a fresher perspective might help. Or even just having the option to sleep beside someone every night could help with the loneliness.”

Your heart swells with emotion, and the gentle smile pulling at Yunho’s lips only makes you want to sob from how touched you are. Yunho sees the sudden twist in your expression. His hands dart up to cradle your face, eyes falling into soft crescents as a more bashful smile overtakes his features.

“Are those happy tears or sad ones?”

“I d-don’t know how to respond,” you whisper through a small sob, and Yunho tugs you down to his chest again. He rocks your form back and forth as best he can with the awkward angle, but it provides the right amount of comfort for you to settle against him once more.

“Think about you, baby. You don’t need to answer right away. Seonghwa won’t mind extra time to clean, of course.”

“Or I could just sleep with you until it’s cleaned to his liking.” You smother the words in his clothes to keep him from hearing them, but that is to no avail because he huffs out a loud laugh at your comment nonetheless.

“Or I could stay with you here until you’re ready to make a decision.”

You twist in his grasp to look him in the eye again, searching his dark gaze for… something you aren’t wholly aware of. The light from outside — a dull and grey-toned white light — reflects off his eyes and shows off those pretty purple flecks in them. The allure of his features hits in that moment, the dastardly effect of staring too long at a fae, but Yunho blinks his eyes shut before you fall into a daze.

“Don’t let me influence your decision. It’s up to you as always. I am content to do whatever is more comfortable to you, so you—”

You cut him short with a swift peck pressed to the tip of his nose, and Yunho scrunches up his face at the suddenness of the action. His eyes flutter open once more but this time you don’t stare directly into them.

“You’re the devil,” he grumbles, but the smile on his lips betrays how flustered he really is.

“Don’t laugh too hard, I’m comfortable here.”

“Is that a smile I see?”

“I love you,” you murmur, ignoring the question for the time being. Yunho doesn’t seem to mind all too much. “Thank you. Both for being here and for helping me think clearer.”

“Always, darling. I may not be human like you, but I do love you and want the best for you. And I know the other would do the same whenever you need it.” You respond with another quick kiss to the tip of his nose, but this time Yunho catches you when you pull back and he plants a kiss on your lips before you can duck completely away. “As comfortable as this is, I am quickly losing feeling in my ass, so maybe we could resituate or go to the bed?”

“I don’t know, you make for a rather nice cushion.”

“I wonder if this is how Yeosang felt when I accidentally sat on him,” Yunho whines, slumping further back against the wall. You slap his chest with a bit of force as he complains.

“He was in his cat form and you put the full weight of your ass on him!‌ That’s completely different!”

“He survived, didn’t he?”

“Then you’ll survive having a numb ass for a little while.”

“I hate when you’re right. It’s too sexy and makes me think of inappropriate things.”

“So you’re still a man, after all, fae or not.” You land another quick jab to the side of Yunho’s head as he laughs. He doesn’t complain any longer though, even as you force him to lie completely flat on the window sill with your body still draped over his like a blanket.

“Wooyoung is downstairs, by the way.” Yunho distracts you from the sudden revelation by pressing a line of kisses down the side of your face.

“What?”

“He’s cooking dinner for us, I believe. And drawing a bath for you. We wanted to treat you.” He layers the words with more kisses, pausing over your lips to say one more thing. “Shit, wait, I think I was supposed to be in charge of the bath actually.”

“Yunho!”

“I’ll make Wooyoung do it after dinner so I can cuddle you some more.”

...

a/n: this one feels rather weak compared to the others but i was trying not to be too heavy handed with all the emotions and such in it so that’s why it might feel a little ~awkward~

#ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mingi x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #yunho x reader #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez scenario #ateez scenarios #yunho drabbles #yunho drabble #yunho imagine #yunho imagines #yunho scenario #yunho scenarios #time to watch her flop :c

[whumpmatsus]

tw // noises , loud noises : osomatsu afraid of an emergency alert system test

I went ahead and made it an actual emergency alert, because rainy days and Mondays and whatnot-

also it's worth noting I did look up Japan's emergency alert system, but I have no idea how J-Alert actually functions, I've just kind of assumed it's similar to the system that's in place where I live XD

Osomatsu, you've got some top-notch little brothers there!!

it's technically Allmatsu but like... big Sokudomatsu vibes tho :D

-

All things considered, a few days of bad weather keeping all the sextuplets cooped up in the house pretty much guarantees that they’re all going to be on edge.

They’re occasionally two seconds away from being at each other’s throats anyway, with all the challenges of being a big family in a small house. When the skies darken and open up with rain, though, it all becomes that much worse.

It means Ichimatsu can’t venture out to feed the stray cats, because being out in the cold rain for so long will probably lead to him getting sick. The comfort and stress relief that Karamatsu finds in playing guitar on the roof is vanished into thin air. Everyone has to keep Jyushimatsu from going outside since he’s half determined to play baseball even when it’s pouring. Choromatsu can’t hit the streets in search of a job or anything; too much chance of getting caught in a torrential downpour far from home. That’s also the reason Totty can’t make any plans with his friends, and counts his blessings that he doesn’t have any work shifts during these days.

All things being equal, Osomatsu is almost certainly the most laidback of their little group. Big brother tries his best to find solutions to keep all of them distracted, such as playing games or helping everyone settle on what TV show they should watch. Even though there are other places he’d rather be right now ― like the races or pachinko or maybe somewhere trying to pick up girls ― he can acknowledge that it’s kind of nice to spend time with his brothers when they can’t go outside.

The rain’s been coming down steadily today, a constant pattering that’s rhythmic and borderline soothing. It’s already put Ichimatsu and Totty to sleep, the two of them curled up under a blanket together. Before they fell asleep, Totty said something about the storm being “free ASMR”, whatever that means, and Ichimatsu mumbled an agreement as they cuddled in against each other.

To be completely honest, the energy in the house in general is pretty low. That might be best for a stormy day. Everyone can chill out and recharge their energy.

For the most part, Osomatsu is playing at being as responsible as he can handle today; gathering snacks, making tea, keeping kerosene in the heater so nobody gets too cold. Now that Totty and Ichimatsu are down for the count, everyone else is starting to get sleepy. Which, of course, means it’s time for a collective nap.

He takes a look around the room as he settles in on the couch himself. There’s Ichimatsu and Totty under their single blanket, seeming to be getting along just fine to share it. Choromatsu and Karamatsu are nuzzled against each other with their legs under the kotatsu, with Choromatsu’s head resting on Karamatsu’s shoulder and Karamatsu’s head resting on top of Choromatsu’s. And Jyushimatsu is… huddled up in a few blankets near the couch. For all intents and purposes, sleep has apparently claimed him, too.

Well, that’s good. Now that he’s made sure all his little brothers are comfortable, Osomatsu can doze off himself.

There’s a leftover blanket folded up at the end of the couch, so he pulls it up around himself and lies down with his head propped against one of the arms of the couch. He’d certainly like to be nestled up with one of the others, but he’s not gonna disturb them for that. They’re all in their own pairs, save for Jyushimatsu, and he’s not going to make the second youngest clamber up onto the couch just because Osomatsu wants some physical contact.

Besides, he can get that later if he wants. It’s going to be chilly and dreary all day, so more snuggles are inevitable. If he gets lucky, everyone will gravitate to one big cuddle puddle after dinner.

So he does his best to relax on the couch. He closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing down a bit. The rain continues to pound in sheets against the window, and in heavy drops against the roof. There’s the soft rumbling of thunder that’s begun in the background, so low and powerful he can feel it. Somehow, it’s a comfort, something that whispers to him that he can go to sleep now.

Surrounded by his brothers and the lullaby of the storm outside, it’s easy to drift off.

Osomatsu is nearly sunk down into the beginnings of a deep sleep when suddenly, a blaring alarm goes off. And it’s not just one ― it sounds like several firing off in perfect, irritating harmony.

He can’t explain why he has the reaction he does. All he knows is that the abrupt, loud, obnoxious noise cuts through everything else and seems to hit the panic button in his head. A terrified yell rips itself from his throat, and he’s bolt upright. Then he’s on the floor, rolled onto Jyushimatsu and waking his younger brother up.

“HOLY MOLY!” And as soon as Jyushimatsu shouts, it’s enough to wake everyone else up. How anybody could sleep through that siren is beyond Osomatsu, though he’s pretty sure if anyone could, Jyushimatsu could. “Osomatsu-nii-san! You’re on top of me! What the heck is that?! Are we late for school???”

Totty groans as he’s woken up in the rudest way possible. “We’re too old for school, Jyushimatsu-nii-san. We’re adults.” He pulls his phone out, and his other hand reaches to pat Ichimatsu on the head. “Aaahnnmmm… it’s a weather alert.”

“Severe thunderstorm warning,” Choromatsu groans, having turned to glance at the TV. “Looks like it’s only gonna last till like 7 P.M., though.”

Karamatsu yawns and rubs at his eyes. “Should we get supplies together in case the power goes out?”

“The rest of you dumbasses can do that,” Ichimatsu huffs. “I’m not moving. As soon as the alerts stop making that shitty noise, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Well, I guess it falls to the three oldest, then.” Choromatsu stretches, giving a quiet, “Oof” when something in his back pops. “Osomatsu, do you wanna come help us… uh… Osomatsu?”

Strangely enough, the eldest brother is still incapacitated from the unexpected sounds, curled into a ball with his hands pressed over his ears. There might even be tears in his eyes, if one’s looking close enough.

Jyushimatsu runs a gentle hand, (or sleeve, as it were), over his big brother’s head, seeing as he’s the closest one. “I think something’s wrong with Osomatsu-nii-san. He’s all shivery and breathing funny.”

That’s really all it takes for Choromatsu to be over lightning-fast, knelt down next to the eldest. “Osomatsu? Osomatsu-nii-san, are you okay?” He frowns and tentatively tugs one of Osomatsu’s hands away from his ear. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Th… the noise…” His hand is trembling in his younger brother’s grip, tears welling up in his eyes. It still feels like his heart is trying to hammer its way out of his chest completely. He can’t really get a good breath in.

Choromatsu’s brow furrows and he looks back toward the TV, which Karamatsu scrambles to turn off in case it’s the prolonged sound causing the problem. “Did you… ahah… it startled you, right? I think it startled all of us…”

Ichimatsu pushes himself up a bit so he can turn his attention to his older brothers. “Looks like it did more than startle him. He’s about to jump out of his skin.”

“Ah…” Choromatsu quickly gathers Osomatsu into his arms, and is surprised with the fervor with which the eldest clings to him. It reminds them both of… being kids. “H-hey, Osomatsu-nii-san… it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s over now. Can you, um, try to follow my pattern of breathing here? That might help you calm down.”

Osomatsu nods and does his best, mirroring the way Choromatsu inhales for four seconds, holds the breath for seven, and exhales for eight. It takes several cycles, a few minutes’ worth of this, before he can feel himself starting to be a little less shaky. His heart is still pounding, but not as fast as it was a moment ago.

Choromatsu holds him carefully, rubbing Osomatsu’s back, until he can feel the tension beginning to fade from his brother’s muscles. That was… weird. It’s not like Osomatsu to get so anxious, especially not to the point that he’s crying. “There… is it better now?”

“Y… yeah…” Osomatsu raises a hand in an attempt to scrub the tears away. Man… how embarrassing. He’s the oldest and he’s over here acting like a baby because of a stupid weather alert. “Sorry… I, uh, don’t know where that came from, haha.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Neither of them make any move to get out of the position for a minute, then Choromatsu gradually pulls away once he can’t hear his older brother’s heart beating like a gong. “You… good?”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so.”

Ichimatsu stretches his arms above his head. “Damn. I guess we’re all awake. I hate those alert things… remember that one night when we were kids, and it came on just as we were getting ready for bed?”

Totty laughs, rolling over and propping his face up against one arm. “Yeah, I remember Choromatsu told me they were warning us a big storm was gonna come and wash all the baby brothers out to sea.”

“A-ah…” Choromatsu’s face goes red in an instant. He was such a little bastard as a child. “I’m sorry about that, Totty!”

He waves a hand. “Nah, it’s okay! ‘Cause remember what we did next?”

“Ah… I remember!” Karamatsu grins. “We all said we wouldn’t let the storm get you, and we wrapped you up in blankets and stood guard the whole night.”

“Until we fell asleep,” Jyushimatsu giggles. “I remember panicking when we woke up, but then we all high-fived each other when we saw Totty was still there in the morning!”

“W-we could do that again,” Choromatsu suggests, stealing a peek at their eldest who still appears to be tired. “Except this time…”

Totty’s up in a second. “Ooh, yeah!! Let’s cocoon Osomatsu-nii-san so the big, bad weather alerts can’t hurt him!”

Osomatsu feels like he should be having the hairs on the back of his neck stand up right about now. Instead, he feels sort of warm in a good way when everyone starts to wrap blankets around him. “Geez… you guys don’t need to do all this shit…”

“Well, no, but it’ll be fun.” Choromatsu gives him a smile and nestles in against his older brother’s side. “I’ll take first watch.”

Osomatsu snorts, but lets his head fall on top of Choromatsu’s anyway.

“Man… you guys are lame.”

Thank God for that, though.

#loud noise tw #Osomatsu san #whump #Sokudomatsu #Allmatsu #Osomatsu #anxiety #hurt/comfort #LOOK AT THESE GOOD BOYS #TAKING CARE OF THEIR BIG DUMB LEADER #WARMS MY COCKLES LEMME TELL YA

[orionwhispers]

Tear In My Heart // Alfie Solomons

(A/N - hehe im back. im working on a bucky oneshot and a tommy series but both of them are super long and i wanted to take a little breather. this was supposed to be a drabble but you know me... ive got a few more ideas for shorter imagines like this with tommy and alf, requests are open! hope you enjoy. pls reblog and comment. love u see u soon xoxxo - also this is like the smuttiest thing ive written even though its not explicit but wow who am i)

warnings: violence, mention of fights and blood, protective alfie, heavily implied smut, lots of terrible language.

You knew something was wrong when Ollie practically crashed through the door. He took off part of the frame and made the hinges tear from the wood, nails and screws clattering onto the ground. The afternoon had been wonderful, perhaps too wonderful, and as always, real life found a way to shatter your rose tinted glasses.

It was starting to fall into autumn, the air chilly but comfortable, the streets slick with rain and the leaves turning into a sweet, buttery caramel all around you. The house was silent save for the birds singing in the trees and the rattling whip of the wind against your windows. The quiet was a perk of having house out in the country, far away from anything and anyone. Just the way he liked it.

Because to him, all he needed was his girl.

Well, and his dog.

The sun had barely risen when you got up - much to your husbands protests. You felt him stirring from beside you, a solid wall of warmth as he snaked his arms around your waist and pressed sleepy, half drunk kisses onto your spine. You laughed tiredly as his hands curled over everything they could reach, long calloused fingers roaming against your bare skin. He grumbled as you swung your legs from under the duvet and onto the floor, throwing on his white cotton shirt and letting it fall to your knees, trying to ignore the threats he was mumbling about what he was going to do to your boss for making you come in so early.

He made one last feeble attempt to grab you, exhaustion clouding his brain so he could do no more than swipe at the top of your thigh, making you laugh at his wandering hands.

“Stay.” He said, voice raspy and muffled by his pillow.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“Alf.” You sighed playfully, grabbing your strawberry slip dress and beaded heels and fur coat, darting into the bathroom to wash up and change. Through the noise of the running water you could hear the bed springs creak as he shifted, the entire frame groaning almost as much as him. Cyril watched you with his big chestnut eyes from the doorway as you fluffed up your hair and patted on coffee coloured lipstick, pinching the apples of your cheeks for a little flush.

You rummaged through your handbag as you made your way to the bedroom door, lost in your thoughts until you heard him speak, all low and gravelly and sending shivers up your spine.

“Oi. C’mere you.”

You rolled your eyes but walked into his outstretched arms, his body completely slumped and covered in thick duvets and pillows, just his tattooed skin and coarse, tousled hair poking out from underneath. He pulled you close into him, smelling like green apples and rum and sex and sea salt, like home. He mumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out, the sun starting to shine through the cracks in the curtains and as you started to get up he tugged you in tighter, placing messy, sloppy kisses down your throat and onto your collarbones.

You smacked his shoulder, grabbing his jaw and holding it still, placing a kiss on his lips, feeling him smile against your mouth.

“Bye, my love.”

“Hmph.”

You made it halfway down the hall before you heard: “Fred is driving you. Don’t even bloody think about walking alone at this time.” Followed by grunts and groans and finally deep, throaty snores.

———————————————————-

You accompanied your boss to a few meetings, taking notes and helping him check stock. After a few hours filled with cinnamon lattes and finger cramps and ink stains, he took you aside at the office and gave you the rest of the day off. You were a little suspicious, and had a feeling his good deed might have had something to do with your slightly intimidating husband, but you accepted it nonetheless and headed to Camden after lunch.

The air was brisk and you pulled your scarf tighter around your throat, dodging puddles and fat droplets of rain as they dropped from the trees. You stopped off at a little cafe on your side of town, buying turkey sandwiches, a garden salad and a platter of seasonal fruit, ignoring the fried sugar donuts and sausage rolls and thick, crispy cuts of bacon. A routine check up to the doctor had lead to Alfie being told that perhaps a healthier lifestyle would benefit some of his ailments, so despite his grumbling and childish ways you were doing your best to make sure he was eating his five a day - no matter how much he protested.

But at the last second you grabbed a cherry jam donut. His favourite.

The rain had become torrential by the time you left, the clouds morphing into a block of ashen, sooty grey, teetering on black. Once upon a time the impending storm would have made you feel nervous, the rattling trees and flashes of lightning had been the reason for many sleepless nights when you were a child, but now you looked forward to it.

Because now it meant something different. You, Alfie and Cyril curled up in bed, the fire roaring and flickering a brilliant orange gold. Your husbands arms tight around you, squeezing softly every time there was a clap of thunder, his kisses warm and protective across your throat, knowing that he’d never let anything hurt you. Drinking tea spiked with rum and playing cards, listening to the rain against the windows, feeling the white burst of lighting every time it struck the sky. Falling asleep next to each other, Alfie always waiting for you to doze off first, unable to sleep unless he knew you were alright.

You had once hated storms, and now you wished for them.

Your umbrella was totally battered by the time you got to the bakery. The bottom of your dress was damp from puddles and your shoes were on their last legs, the satin ruined and black with mud, but you didn’t care, walking through the side entrance with a smile bigger than the moon. A few of the old boys saw you instantly, straightening up and grinning at you, welcoming you with whisky soaked aprons and calloused hands. Back when you and Alfie started dating he had all but forbidden his staff from looking, talking, or even thinking about you, but over the years you had formed a close relationship with his workers - something about your warmth and light easing up the darkness. At first Alfie huffed and puffed about it a little, but he couldn’t exactly blame his men for loving you - he was a perfect example of how you brought a strong man to his knees after all.

“Is he upstairs?” You asked George, one of the distillers. As soon as he nodded you left, your heels clicking against the cool basement flooring. You didn’t bother knocking as you approached the big, intimidating door to his office, instead just grabbing the brass lion head knob and twisting it, hearing the hinges whine in protest.

“What the fuck?” His voice was as deep and rumbling as a low tide, his tone so dark and sharp that it might have scared you, if you didn’t know him as the man who fed the ducks fresh bread at the park and cuddled Cyril when the vets had to give him an injection. “How many fucking times do I have to ask you lot to fucking knock. I mean it’s a - ”

He stopped short when he saw you, eyes going wide and lips twitching upwards just a little. He slipped into business mode whenever he sat at the leather chair behind his desk, but you always managed to chip away at his foundation.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” You laughed, walking around his desk to see him, his legs naturally opening to let you stand in between them, his eyes following every curve and line of your face, settling on the natural rosebud flush of your lips.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He mused, ring clad fingers darting around your waist and pulling you in. He toyed with the buttons on your dress and the jewellery around your neck, his fingers rough and large and as hot as a fire. His day had been shitty so far, but seeing the sparkle in your eyes and the loose curl of your hair had made everything much, much better.

“Hmm.” You said, leaning into his touch, batting away his hand as it slipped somewhere a little too low. “Marcus gave me the afternoon of so I thought I would come and surprise you.”

He blinked up at you, all wistful and love drunk and making your knees turn into blackcurrant jelly. “Did you now?”

“Yep.” You smiled, brushing your nose against his before pulling back and teasingly shaking the paper bag of baked goods in your hand. “And I bought gifts.”

“Yeah. Yeah. In a minute.” He barely registered them, instead dragging you into him, pressing kisses to your lips and letting you wash away any thoughts from his brain, not stopping until he was totally, completely drowning in you.

——————————————————-

That was how you ended up cross legged on the sofa, devouring your new novel and sipping on the rose and oolong tea Alfie kept in the cupboard for when you visited the factory. You could hear the rain pattering down the windows around you, mixed with the scratch of Alfie’s fountain pen and the sound of him rifling through his papers. It was fun to watch him as well as listen to him, the way his eyebrows raised when he read something he didn’t like, the twitch of his nose and the way that he ran his fingers through the coarse hair of his beard, moulding it to a peak at the bottom of his chin.

He watched you as well. When you got so into your book that your brows furrowed and your nose wrinkled. The way your hair was loose and wild, your stockings a soft pink under the stormy sky, your eyes wide and frantic, desperate to read as much as you could. He smiled at the way your leg bounced, how you tried to pick the stems from your strawberries with one hand but then accidentally squished them, the juice running down your wrist. He especially liked the way you were using his winter coat as a blanket, drowning in the fabric like a child, the collar snug around your chin.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You heard Ollie before you saw him, the crash of his laced black boots thundering up the stairs, the way that he collided with the door rather than opening it first. You and Alfie stood up at the same time, his eyes immediately darting to you, gesturing for you to get behind him.

“Eric’s here.” Was all the boy said, and you watched the colour drain from Alfie’s face.

“Eric?” You said, “Eric Martin?”

Your question lingered in the air as the two men walked around one another, gesturing wildly and talking under their breath; Alfie completely frantic and flustered. You had only heard of Alfie’s new business partner in passing, the two of them had spent the better part of a year talking through agreements and shipments and trying to manoeuvre a deal where the two of them could co exist happily - Alfie’s rum and Eric’s stolen goods sharing a boat so that the city checks would be easier. Alfie had never been particularly quite when it came to business. He liked to include you and get your opinion on things, he trusted you most of all anyway, but he had been secretive when it came to Eric.

You had heard through Ollie and rumours at the club and whispers in the factory that this “Eric” was a man not to be trifled with. Apparently he was unpredictable and violent, and he belonged to one of the major crime gangs in Cambridge. None of this scared you though, many people thought the exact same of the man you shared your bed with, and you knew a side of him that nobody else saw. The gossip was barbed and cruel though. They said he was conniving and underhanded, and that his last two wives had been admitted to hospital with broken and fractured bones.

So Alfie tried cutting him out as much as he could, never wanting to say his name or talk about him in the safety of his home, not with you around. Your home was his solace, and he wouldn’t taint his life with you in blood red - you were too important. You never thought much of it, but watching his reaction, his sudden overprotectiveness and stern frown and rattled demeanour, made you just a little bit frightened.

“What the fuck does he want?” Alfie snapped, pulling your coat over your shoulders frantically and starting to button it up, then helping you tug on your boots and lace them.

“He’s pissed about the Brighton shipment, he says his liquor didn’t get there on time.”

“Stupid fucking...” Alfie’s voice trailed off like smoke, something downstairs on the factory floor clattering loudly followed by distinct, angry shouts. “We told him it was too risky with the police there, he should have fucking listened. We were due a meeting next week, tell him to fuck off and come back then.”

“He won’t listen.”

“Make him.”

“I...” He started, but Alfie cut him off again, standing next to you and taking your face in his large, calloused hands.

“Right, pet. Stay here for a little bit, and when it clears up, Ollie will take you out the back, alright?”

“Alfie...” You started to protest, before exhaling and sighing as he turned to his protégée.

“You got that, Ol? Nothing is to happen to her.”

You were getting a little hot with being ordered around, but the visible anxiety swimming across their faces like the midnight sea was enough for you to close your mouth. Instead of agreeing with his boss, Ollie shook his head, sucking on his lower lip as he tried to think of a way to convey the sincerity of the situation.

“He’s really angry, Alfie. You need to go down, now. Before he decides to come up.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Your fingers clenched, and you darted out to tug on the edge of his sleeve before he left.“Alfie. Please be careful.”

There was a smog of anxiety in your stomach and warning signs ringing like alarms in your mind as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his lips brushing your hairline. You chewed on the edge of your lip as he left, and you wondered how your blissful afternoon had turned into this: your body shaking with nerves as your husband descended down the stairs and into the belly of the beast.

Ollie reached out and touched your shoulder, trying to help you feel calm but his face was the colour of tepid dishwater, paling by the second.

“He’ll be fine.”

You crossed all of your fingers and toes.

———————————————————————

About twenty minutes passed, and the shouting had gone from ear piercingly loud to a low hum, which you found oddly comforting despite everything. You watched as Ollie fiddled with his pocket watch, the two of you waiting until it was safe to head downstairs.After a moment you heard the sound of the giant metal door opening, the one right at the front where the workers came in and the bakery goods were delivered, a clear indication from Alfie that Eric was leaving.

Ollie leapt up and smiled faintly at you, edging you towards the door as you swung your handbag across your chest. You scoffed a little as you walked, turning to face him.

“If Eric is gone, why can’t I stay?”

Ollie merely rolled his eyes, his hand migrating to your lower back as he all but pushed you forward. You might have been able to get away with ignoring Alfie’s orders, but he certainly wouldn’t. “You know Alfie won’t want you here after that. There’s no use fighting him about it, he’ll want you back at home.”

You sighed but conceded, allowing yourself to be guided down the staircase. At least at home you could distract yourself and have Cyril with you, his big treacle eyes were the perfect remedy to a bad day.

You were right beside the back door and ready to leave when you heard a voice cracking like thunder from behind you, something as sharp as a knife and as loud as a church bell. You both froze instantly, every nerve in your body feathering, your heart aching to know that Alfie was alright.

“You little fucking liar.” Cut around the room like barbed wire. “How long were you planning on hiding this shipment from me?” There was another crash, and you could hear liquid trickling and dribbling into a puddle, followed by the sweet, sour smell of alcohol.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re on about mate.” It was Alfie speaking now, his voice lowered to a dangerous octave, and you could picture the lightning like anger on his face. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down? You’ve been sending things off without my knowledge!”

“I said. Fucking calm down.” The sound of a hand slamming down on wood, as fierce as a slap on the face. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me.”

There was another scuffle: rapid footsteps on the floor, the crack of knuckles and the smell of ash. A couple of the boys darted in from the other room, their shirts untucked and hands turning red. You watched them curiously, stepping forward on unsteady heels to try and pinpoint the commotion. You felt Ollie's hand reach for you but you leapt out of his grasp, at the same time a body flew from the next room and landed in a heap next to barrels of aged rum and whisky, the wood heaving from the strain.

You glanced at the man on the floor, his body oddly contorted, his bald head glistening with sweat and his body reeking of putrid alcohol and cigarettes. This was obviously Eric. Your eyes widened in disgust at the drunk, violent man taking swings at whoever he could, wanting nothing more than to get away from him. You saw Alfie emerge from the shadows, his gaze flitting straight to you, his hands swollen and his face flushed with visible anger at the man sprawled on the ground.

Before you could retreat, Eric’s wide, black eyes landed on you, practically bulging out of his head with adrenaline and anger and excitement. “ You know, Alfie.” He asked through bubbles of saliva, scrambling to his feet as best he could, lunging for you. You saw Alfie and a few of his best men move forward, hands ready like cocked guns to strike if they needed to. Eric ignored them, wanting to pack as many fatal blows in whilst he had the chance. “Everybody at the club talks about your little whore of a wife, Solomon’s.”

The room fell deadly silent. His words didn’t affect you at all, but you felt a pool of dread settle in your gut and you stepped backwards, warning him with your eyes. He was at the back of the room, but you could still feel the anger vibrating from your husband, and you heard him smack his lips as he tried to calm himself down.

Eric ignored your alarmed glare, spitting onto the concrete and looking you up and down with pure disgust and shameless lust. “You know that people only do business with you to get to her?”

“Don’t. You. Fuck - ” Alfie’s boots thundered like a stampede, his voice as dark and raspy as midnight, his words sharpened like butchers knives.

“Maybe I’ll have a go at her. Maybe it’ll teach you a little respect. If I have a go at that smug little whore and slap her around a little and....”

He didn’t finish his sentence, Alfie’s cane smashing against the side of Eric’s head with enough momentum to send his teeth flying, small milky white canines lying a few feet in front of you in a pool of sticky blood. He made some kind of noise from on the floor, his hands coming up to protect what was left of his face, his polished shoes desperately trying to grip onto something to help him up. There was a second hit. And then a third. Each accompanied by ear splitting cries, and the sound of flesh against stone.

“Don’t you ever, ever, speak about my wife like that again.” You could just about make out Alfie from the darkness, his silhouette mighty and terrifying, leaning over the shattered body on the floor, filled with a hatred that seemed to overpower him.

“I - ” Eric tried to speak but only blood pooled from his mouth, his body weakened and damaged from the attack. He tried to cover himself with his hands but failed, another ear piercing crack echoing around the room.

You lunged forward, wanting to stop your husband before he went too far. “Alfie! Stop! You’re going to kill him!”

He blinked up at you, his pupils swallowed by black. His gaze lowered from you onto the wailing man on the ground, his words playing on a loop in his brain, digging their nails in every time the record restarted.

He had said those evil things about you.

He glanced at Ollie, finally opening his mouth to speak. “Take her home.”

You struggled in Ollie’s grip, desperate to see your husband and knock some sense into him. Your heart hung heavy in your chest, equal parts terrified that he would either end up hurt or in a more dangerous situation than the one he was already in. You fought hard but Ollie’s hold was tighter, his fingers squeezing you tightly. He tried to be kind but forceful as he pulled you out into the alley, your heard turned back to face your husband, watching as him and the shadow on the floor faded to a dull, awful, obsidian.

—————————————-

You were certain you were going to make holes in the wood. You had been pacing back and forth the living room floor for almost an hour, and Cyril had abandoned his mission of trying to cheer you up, and instead watched you protectively and cautiously from his wicker basket beside the sofa.

You had chewed your sunshine yellow nails down to the wick, and your heart hadn’t stop thumping since you had left the warehouse. Ollie had left you to your thoughts, keeping watch outside to make sure nothing harmed you, and also that you didn’t harm somebody else.

Dealing with hysterical women wasn’t really his forte.

There had been no word from Alfie since you had left, and so you watched the teal wall phone endlessly, hoping that it would ring and you would know he was alright. You were greeted with nothing but ice cold silence, and so you resumed your pacing, biting down on the skin of your thumb until you could taste blood.

Right before you were about to lose all control and demand Ollie take you to see him, you heard the crunch of the gravel outside, and saw lemon headlights flash against the wall. Cyril’s head lifted quickly, and his tail began to thump, but your feet turned to concerted and you were unable to do anything other than wait.

You were as still as a spectre as you stood facing the door, your body prickling with anxiety and adrenaline. A car - you assumed Ollie’s - coughed and spluttered over the rocks and into the road, leaving you alone with Alfie. You heard the key in the lock, practically felt the metal ridges running over your spine as he pulled and twisted and finally came inside, the sky a gloomy, smoky grey, rain falling so harshly it was almost hail.

He was shaped so strongly, his figure so barbed and brawny and beautiful. You felt totally mortal beside a man like him, and he looked even more so like a God when you saw him under the icy white lamp light in the hall.

He was covered in blood. Soaked in it, really. It was matted in his hair and in ugly brown splotches across his once pristine shirt and under his fingernails and smeared across his boots in a shade of red you had never seen before. It was obvious he had tried to clean himself up judging from the uneven patches and water marks, but he had given up, deciding to risk everything and drive through the streets like an abattoir worker, just so he could see you as quickly as he could.

You let out some kind of noise and stepped forward, he caught you effortlessly, the way that he always would.

“Alfie.” You said, wide eyed and innocent and good, and he felt like a sinner holding something so angelic in his arms.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.”

There was blood in his beard, and a plum sided bruise turning nightshade on his upper arm. “Oh God, Alf.”

He shook his head, pulling you in and smelling the orange and cinnamon of your shampoo and the vanilla perfume on your neck and felt the softness of your hair and the curves of your body. The day had been bad. It had started so wonderfully and ended up shattered and splintered into something so awful and malevolent, and now there was nothing he wanted except you, his home.

“We need to - ” You started, but he frowned, his arms engulfing you and tugging you in. He pressed his lips to whatever flesh he could find, open mouthed and desperate, sucking and biting and aching for you.

“No. No.” He whispered into your neck, his voice so small and desperate that your heart throbbed. “I need you, my love.”

You knew what he wanted. How we got when he was like this. Touch starved. Greedy. Insatiable. How he wanted nothing else but the feel of you under him, the weight of your ribs and the feel of your body and love consuming him until nothing was left. Fuck his back and his cane, he needed to claim you and mark you and show you just how badly he needed you. He needed to find religion at the alter of your pliant, yearning body. Show you how much he loved you on the cold kitchen tiles with the rain casting grey shadows and his lips biting your own as the thunder clapped above.

————————-

The tap was still leaking.

Alfie had promised to fix it weeks ago and yet it still dribbled lukewarm water continuously, you didn’t mind for once though, the soft noise it made as it bounced into the water was somewhat calming.

His legs around you were as thick as tree trunks and covered in curly, coarse hair. His arms were tight around you, and you played with the jewels on his fingers as you both relaxed, letting the hot steam cover you both. You were cradled in front of him despite your instance that his back would hurt and it would cause more harm than good. He simply got in the water and dragged you on top of him, letting the pink bath salts do their job.

You hadn’t really spoken since you’d made love like teenagers on the kitchen floor. Afterwards, he tugged you on top of him and held you close, the two of you skin to skin, letting your pulses synch and breathing calm all whilst he stayed warm and throbbing inside of you. Needing to be joined with you for as long as he could.

Then you ran a bath and filled it with all of the expensive lotions and potions you had stockpiled. Cherry and rose and sweet mint and chocolate and lime, things that might have clashed but would easily cover the smell of sweat and sex and thick, coppery blood. The two of you sat in the water, not speaking but filled with love, despite all of the unspoken tension in the air.

You felt him shift behind you. His huge body sent water and bubbles lapping wildly over the tub edge, coating the floor in marshmallow pink. You giggled softly, and the sweet, angelic noise gave Alfie the final push to tell you everything.

“I know what you want to ask me.”

“Hmm?” You murmured, letting round, iridescent bubbles fall through the cracks in your fingers, knowing exactly what he was about to say but feigning innocence anyway.

“You want to know if I killed him.”

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need to, he continued anyway.

“I did.”

The bathroom fell silent again and Alfie could feel you stiffen under him. You knew from the moment he swung his cane across Eric’s head that he would be buried six feet by the end of the day, but it still hit you like a punch to the windpipe to hear the words aloud.

“Does that bother you?” He asked after a moment, the words thick and raspy, as though they had been stuck in his throat like congealed honey.

“I’m not sure.” You said finally.

It was the truth. You weren’t sure.

You knew he had killed people before. You knew what the war had made him do, what it had turned him into. You weren’t stupid, either. You knew that he often came home with dirt under his nails and blood splattered on his boots and that glazed look in his eyes that made your stomach tie itself in knots. You knew because you had been there through it all, cleaning him up and disinfecting his wounds, talking him down when the memories of gunshots and trenches got too loud, listening to him tell you all of the secrets that lingered in his mind like flies around a carcass.

But if you were being honest, you didn’t care that he had killed. You never judged Alfie or his choices, you understood the way his brain worked and how he made his decisions. Most of the men had been awful. Abusers and violent thieves and con men with dirty intentions. This was the business you had signed up for when you fell for the six foot man with questionable morals but a heart of solid gold. There was no way you were turning your back on him now.

It wasn’t murder that scared you, it was the possible repercussions that led you to sleepless nights and bloody, bitten lips. You were terrified that one day everything would catch up to him, and it would be your husband that ended up in a coffin. He was so powerful and dangerous and magnificent, but he wasn’t invincible.

You were about to say as much but he continued, the water sloshing around the two of you. “Don’t let it bother you. I’d do it again. Kill a fucking million men if I had to. If anyone talks about you like that - if they even think it. They’re gone. Bloody scum. The lot of ‘em.”

You sighed, shifting up and grabbing his hand under the water. You rubbed circles across his palm, conveying your love through actions. “I don’t want to be the reason you have blood on your hands.”

“I’m a big lad right, I can make my own decisions.”

“I know you are Alf, but you know how I worry.”

“Listen to me, right.” He muttered, the candles flickering clementine, his fingertips pressing gently onto the bare flesh of your hip. He cleared his throat, feeling the rise and fall of your chest against his belly. “After the war I had nothing - and then I met you and fuck me you changed everything.”

He paused, reminiscing internally about how you met and your early dates, thinking of toffee kisses and giddy, pure love and fucking in back alleys and winter walks and finally feeling something after the war had shot everything right out of him. “And you are my wife. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You tugged on his big toe, making him wince and playfully hit you, the air lightened just a little bit, but enough so that the two of you could breathe. “I don’t care that you killed them, Alf. I never have. But God, if something were to happen to you! What if the police start looking? What if...”

A million fucked up scenarios of your beloved in silver cuffs and a bullet in his head made you feel completely nauseous, but he held you tight, grounding you back to reality.

“I’m not going anywhere. And for the cops - they should be thanking me. Got rid of a lot of nasty criminals without them getting their hands dirty.” He pressed kisses to the back of your neck, the tip of your spine, the crook of your ear. “I promise you, my love, everything will be alright.”

The future was uncertain, but you knew that when you married him. Some days were just bad.

Clouded in darkness and tinged with blood and rust. Your relationship had always been a little unconventional, a little rough around the edges and at times, like a small wooden boat on a rough sea. But despite everything your love had been unwavering, as solid as a steel, the kind of dreamy infatuation that people longed for. For every bad day and every fight and every knot that wound itself in your belly - there was also so much good. Sleepy kisses and pillow talk and sharing the parts of yourself that no one else saw. A language without words, the safety of his arms, the home in your hips, domestic mornings and a love that could last through anything.And in that moment, with the storm starting to ease and the sky starting to lighten and his arms around you and Cyril starting to whine for his dinner downstairs...

It was enough.

Because you weren’t just the girl he would kill for. You were the girl he would live for.

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons headcanon #alfie solomons oneshot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons x reader #writing #alfie solomons hc

[stickyy]

could i get a reader x ururaka where the reader kidnaps her and forcibly 'protects' her by coddling her and keeping her in a soft room with everything she could need and not letting her leave, even if it means restraining, or even injuring her? tysm! i'm really looking forward to seeing your blog grow! (btw if you cant/dont want to write ururaka, midoriya or shinso are also good!) ♡

thank you so much for your kind words!! :D i hope you enjoy, i kind of went for a more somber tone bc i like Angst, so this was moody and fun to write!

warnings: yandere!gn!reader, kidnapping, very mildly graphic mutilation (hands and ankle), drugging mention, very vague vomit mention, angst, best friends to lovers (gone wrong) /s

word count: 1.5 k

note: the scene describing mutilation is sandwiched by two dashes (-), incase u dont want to read it :D

AFTERMATH

The pattering of rain against the kitchen window is loud, accompanied by the sizzle of food on the stove and the distant chatter of news anchors coming from your TV in a domestic cacophony of sounds. It’s a Saturday morning, and it would be a pretty relaxed one if not for the deep pit of dread in your stomach. You had a rough night, to say the least. Trying to keep yourself present, you rub the dark bags under your eyes as you tend your routine of making breakfast every morning. Maybe a meal between the two of you will fix things. You hope so, at least. You tune into the television in an attempt to distract yourself.

“... are still in search for missing Hero, Urav-”

You’re suddenly uninterested, shutting the cable off with haste. Breakfast is as good as finished, anyways. 

The house is quiet, save for the rain, and the silence settles as a sickly chill under your skin. Taking your time to ensure your footsteps are quiet, you head towards the door at the end of the hallway. The normally innocuous door frame looms over you and you want to shrink away, go back to a time where things were okay. You place the tray on the small table outside of the room, fishing for the keys in your pocket. There are 3 locks; two require keys, while the other is an opposite facing deadbolt. You make quick work of opening them, daily practice rendering you nimble. With the door open and the keys back in your pocket, you grab the tray and push the door in with your hip, your stomach dropping and your heart fluttering simultaneously at the sight of Uraraka, still sleeping peacefully.

You place the tray on her bedside table gingerly, opening the curtains to her window afterwards. The dim, muddy light wakes her, her form stretching under the plush covers.

“Good morning!” you chirp, over enthusiastic as you sit on the edge of her bed. Her hair is messy, skin splotchy from laying in one place all night (you give her sleeping pills at night, and they tend to keep her in one place). She rubs sleep from her eyes cutely, sighing before speaking to you.

She hums in response. Even when she’s angry, she’s always so polite, sweet enough to offer you any response after what you did to her. Her gentle voice, no matter if she’s laughing or talking or screaming or crying, is music to you. The noise does more to set you at ease than you’d like to admit, her voice like stitches to your wounded heart. You can’t help but smile, warmth spreading over your skin. You love her so much, it’s why you do what you must to keep her safe.

“Did you sleep well?” you ask, as you do everyday, setting up her breakfast in front of her. She’s silent. You expect as much, yet it still stings, and you spare a glance at her to see an expression you can’t quite read and don’t quite like. That’s all it takes for the pit to return, guilt and remorse stirring through your veins. You can only muster offer a soft noise in response, sitting back with your own plate of food. You start first, choosing to focus on the flavor of the food, the softness of the duvet, the rain- anything but the silence. 

But it’s so difficult; you want nothing more than to be able to ignore her, to not feel so attached and needy and sorry. She burns so brightly, even when she’s upset, and you’re a moth to the flame, unable to look away for long. You don’t even realize that you’ve scarfed down half of your food, but it’s glaringly apparent when you look to Uraraka’s food to see it untouched, cooling rapidly. You glance at her face yet again, and her forlorn expression prompts you to break the thick silence.

“Does it still hurt?”

She flinches but doesn’t respond, hugging her arms to her chest and turning away from you. The rain is deafening against the window, and you notice you’re not hungry anymore.

“I told you I was sorry,” you say softly, eyes unconsciously darting to the bandages on her hands, trailing down to her legs, obscured by the covers. She continues to ignore you. You can’t take it, you need to hear her say something, anything.

 “You know I hate hurting you. I hate it, but you tried to run again. Why? We’ve been doing so good, I thought you were happy! I thought you finally understood! You have everything you need here, and even if you don’t, I can get it for you. I’m not even mad, not anymore, so please just-”

“Just let me leave,” her voice is hoarse, and you can see stray tears trailing down her flushed cheeks, pained eyes trained on your face. You swallow, using all of your willpower to turn away from her gaze. You stand suddenly, taking a deep breath before heading into the bathroom, grabbing the first aid materials you left in there. You make the executive decision that it would be better if that conversation never happened, so you pretend as such when you return to the room, replacing your somber expression with a warm smile.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” you peel back the covers and take a look at her ankle. 

-

Her shin is twisted slightly straightened yet still awkward in angle, absurdly swollen, skin littered with large splotches of wine purple, faded blue, and putrid yellow bruises. It looks like it hurts, and you feel yourself deflate, guilt chewing at your insides yet again. You’d never meant to do this to her, but you had no choice. Last night, while you were cooking dinner, you figured you’d let Uraraka keep you company as you chopped vegetables, seeing as she had been extraordinarily compliant recently. That was a mistake, as you had to act quickly when you heard the screech of the chair pushed back suddenly and the loud stomp of feet against hardwoods. You caught her before she could reach the front door, threw her to the floor, and in your irrational fit of panic you stomped hard, once, twice, three times, over and over until the sickening, dull crunch of bone snapped you out of your frenzy. In all of your time with Uraraka, both pre and post living together, you’d never seen her cry quite like this. Her loud, pained, fearful sobs made your stomach turn, and no matter how hard you tried to console her, she wouldn’t stop, thrashing to get your arms off of her. She couldn’t move far, and so you had to wait and watch her writhe in agony until she tired herself out, chest heaving, face covered in tears and snot and drool. You helped her to her room and quickly wrapped the wound, leaving her alone for the rest of the night. You were unable to sleep, hunched over the toilet for the majority of the early hours due to waves of nausea, crying spells ebbing and flowing.

(The bandages on her hands are different. Ridding her of her quirk was the only way to ensure she’d stay put. You’d had a few drinks, taken the largest kitchen knife you owned, and did what you had to. The wounds were cauterized and healed, but you kept the bandages on so she wouldn’t have to look at the scar tissue where the last ligament of her pinky fingers were missing.)

You clean her ankle, gently caressing the distorted flesh with rubbing alcohol. She returned to her reticence, save for small (cute) pained noises when you pass over a particularly tender spot. You take solace in the moment, cherishing the chance to take care of her. 

(When you rewrap the wound, you’re deliberate in doing it incorrectly. It will heal, but it will heal wrong, and then she’ll have to rely on you to get anywhere. The idea is tantalizing, and you suppress a shiver.)

-

“There, all done,” you grin up at her, surprised to find her looking back, expression exhausted but aware, awake. You pack the materials up quickly, climbing back onto the bed. You take note of her breakfast, undoubtedly cold now.

“I can heat that up for you.”

“‘M not hungry.”

That’s that, then. You decide not to push, instead opening your arms in a gesture of peace, knowing how much she loves (tolerates) your cuddles. She gives you a scrutinizing look, before nodding once, the only invitation you get. You move the tray to her bedside table, quickly scooting next to her and wrapping your arms around her gently. She doesn’t quite reciprocate, settling for just leaning against you, but you’ll take anything you can get. Your nerves are set alight, and you vow to yourself that you’ll never hurt her again. You know you did the right thing, keeping her fed and pampered and safe. You’d make up for it, devote yourself to seeing her smile again, even if only once.

“You’re not mad at me, right?” you can’t help but ask, always seeking her approval. 

She’s silent. The rain doesn’t stop. 

#YOINK i enjoyed writing this thank u anon! #yandere!reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere #uraraka x reader #mha uraraka #bnha uraraka #mha imagines #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #uraraka x y/n #tw: kidnapping #tw: abuse #tw: body horror #akuma.fics

[littlesparklight]

Pleisthenides/Atreides

What's in a name? (Warning for child abuse and domestic violence.)

***

Agamemnon's favourite place in the palace is his mother's weaving room. It's a sunny, warm place nearly the whole year; during winter, with rain and cold and snow, sometimes, it's still warm and cozy, one of the best places to be. Not that Agamemnon is supposed to be in here; as his father has repeatedly told him, he's too old for women's stuff, to listen to them talk and watch them weave and spin, and, as little as he wants to agree with his father, he's not wrong, either. But it's with his mother, the servants, and the nurses, that Menelaos most often is, still, since he's only two, and while he could take him elsewhere to play - if that's what it should be called - Menelaos gets fussy when he can't see either his nurse or their mother. Menelaos gets fussy whenever Agamemnon leaves, too, and maybe he shouldn't care about that, but he does.

As long as his father doesn't know he's here, and Agamemnon has gotten very good at going here even when he shouldn't and not be noticed to be doing so, it's fine. And even if it wasn't, with Menelaos' rotund little body between his legs, flailing a toy soldier around and giggling, Agamemnon will take whatever comes next, if Father really does find out he's here. For now, he's holding a wooden chariot team, the harness and reins made up of actual leather, a charioteer and a fully armed soldier beside him in the chariot, and smashing it together with Menelaos' toy.

"No!" Menelaos yells, a threatening wobble already in his voice as he yanks his hand back, and Agamemnon sighs, rolling his eyes. Boops their toys together more gently this time, and Menelaos lets his own fall over with a dramatic, high-pitched warble that doesn't sound the least like a rattling death-groan, at least in Agamemnon's opinion. Whatever makes him happy, though.

Menelaos has the biggest, cutest smile, and Agamemnon lives for seeing it. Or, more correctly, being the cause of it. For all that Menelaos gets fussy, all the way down to crying, if they crash their toys together too hard, he doesn't mind playing out the supposed deaths that follows the booping. It's ridiculous - they're just toys, they don't take any real damage from being slammed together, and if they do more can be made or one can be repaired. Menelaos big, brown eyes filling with tears is, frankly, one of, if not the, worst experiences of Agamemnon's life so far, and if being careful, even when Menelaos flails the toys around like mad, is the price to pay to keep a smile on his face, then it's not a hardship.

The patter of rain against the shutters causes a soft, background rattle, accompanied by the occasional hiss from the braziers around the room that keep it as cozily warm as later in the year, before the heat becomes punishing. It's nice, in here. The women's murmuring voices is another background noise, gentle counterpoint to Menelaos' higher, sharper cries of excitement. When they're playing is really the only time Menelaos is loud, too. He's quiet, otherwise, all big, soft brown eyes and small smiles, with a reddish cast to his blond hair that brings to mind the fire and glowing coals in the braziers, that make it different from both their parents' hair. Agamemnon is secretly terribly pleased that, for all that his hair is darker and more similar to his father's, there's a reddish cast to his, too, easier to see when both he and Menelaos are standing in sunlight.

"Aga! Here!"

Agamemnon looks down and smirks. Menelaos is holding up one of the toy soldiers from the pile between his pudgy legs, each of them having been duly booped with Agamemnon's chariot team and discarded.

"Do you want the chariot?"

There's more than one, but the other ones are in the basket across the room, and while Menelaos can just go get any of them from there, usually he never does, if Agamemnon already has one in hand. He never just demands whatever toy Agamemnon has that he wants, however. They always have to swap.

"Can I?"

"Su---"

"Wife!"

Through the open door, Atreus' bellow is still distant, but everyone has flinched to a stop. One of the maidservants hisses as she's stabbed herself with a needle, another one hushes her. Agamemnon drops the chariot and hugs Menelaos to himself, reluctantly ready to get to his feet and leave before he realizes it wasn't him his father was shouting for. His mother, though, lunges away from the loom, all the layers of her skirts rippling in her haste as she dashes over and snatches Menelaos from his arms.

"Agamemnon, Hippia, come with me - shh, Menelaos, quiet! - barricade the door after we've left!" Mother hisses, gesturing to them, and Agamemnon was already getting to his feet, now he just scrambles faster, following Hippia with Anaxibia in her arms, dashing past her so he can catch up with his mother. He almost grabs her skirts since she's using both arms for a squirming, teary-eyed Menelaos, but catches himself. He's too old for that.

"Aerope!"

Agamemnon jumps, almost stumbling over his feet. He's never heard his father sound like that before. Not even when he's really angry at him and a yank on his ear or a slap follows.

"Mama---"

"Shh, it's all right, Agamemnon."

His mother smiles down at him, but her eyes, usually so bright and lovely and the exact same colour of Menelaos' eyes, are dark right now. It's not all right. Whatever is wrong, is really wrong. The shadows as soon as they're out of his mother's rooms are wrong too. Too long, too dark, even with shutters pulled and the sky dark with rain beyond. It's like the ceiling is too low to the floor.

They run.

Agamemnon knows the palace like the back of his hand, having lived here all his life - all eight years of it - but the corridors are long and winding, the cracks and unevenness he could swear he knew and knew to avoid without looking any more keeps tripping him up, and the air is too thick to breathe. His heart is in his mouth, taking up his whole chest, and Agamemnon curses himself when he almost stumbles again.

"My lady---" Hippia gasps, and while Agamemnon is glad he's not the only one who's tired, it makes him angrier at himself. It's okay for the women to be, but he shouldn't!

"I know, I know," Aerope huffs, and Agamemnon looks up at his mother in spite of how much he's been stumbling as another roar echoes down the corridor behind them. Father's been yelling a lot, about mother and his brother. Agamemnon isn't sure what it means, but for every echoing syllable his gut contracts. It's cold. His mother's face is a mask of flinching regret as she looks between them, then out a half-shuttered window into the dark, early spring afternoon, with rain pouring down like someone's upended a bucket. She shakes her head, her expression briefly twisting into something full of bared teeth. "In here. Barricade the door!"

They veer off, piling inside an empty guest room. There's a couch in there that he helps his mother turn over and wedge in place, but it looks terribly flimsy despite how heavy it was to lift. Menelaos is clinging to his tunic - they almost hit him, struggling the couch into place, but as soon as Aerope put him down he'd come over to latch onto Agamemnon, and it weirdly helps against the chilly knot in his stomach. As soon as the bed is in place, Agamemnon turns around and hugs Menelaos to himself, lifting him up as much as he's able - the brief ride off the ground usually gets a giggle from Menelaos, but now he just clutches more tightly at him and sniffles.

"Come on, Menelaos, don't cry. You're not a baby, are you?" He jostles his little brother, Menelaos pouting at him and only making his pudgy cheeks all the more pudgy. He is a baby. The cutest, best baby, who's been around only for two years since a couple months ago.

"Agamemnon, come here. Both of you, come," Aerope urges, then flinches as the door rattles, then shakes. The whole room seems to tremble with how the door's being hammered.

Agamemnon drags himself and Menelaos over, their mother slinging her arms around them. On the other side of the room, Hippia is trying to soothe a crying Anaxibia, and Aerope looks up, pale-faced and stiff, but while Agamemnon can feel her sort of gesture with the hand she has around him, she doesn't get up. Leans over him and Menelaos and hugs them, with another bared-teeth smile as the door creaks ominously.

"Aerope! Come out now and I might change my mind!"

Change his mind for what? Agamemnon hugs Menelaos tighter, until his little brother whines. He lets up slightly and huddles closer to his mother, completely forgetting his decision that he's too old.

"Mama, what's going on? Why is Father so angry?"

"Listen to me, Agamemnon," Aerope says, a tremble in her voice but the words firm, "that man out there is not your father. Do you understand? Your father was a gentle, kind man, who was cursed with being born to the monster out there. That man, my husband, was your father. Atreus didn't like that his son was born weak and was sick most of the time, so he shut Pleisthenes up---"

"The man in the room!" Agamemnon gasps, briefly distracted from his mother's aching tension, the wild, furious edge to her words, for the mystery he had plain forgotten about now being solved. His mother laughs, a wavering little sound. Touches the back of his head, gently tugging on the curls there.

"Yes, that was Pleisthenes. Your father. Do you hear me, Agamemnon? That man, the kind, sick man who worried about me, about you, too, and Menelaos, even if he never really got to see you, hold you, is your father. Not the monster out there who's been raising you. Don't listen to Atreus, Agamemnon. Never listen to Atreus, do you hear me? I want you to pro---"

The door gives, with a thunderous, creaking protest, bronze gleaming through the cracks in the wood. Hippia shrieks and Aerope pushes them away, so hard Agamemnon falls on his butt, as three armed guards shove their way inside and Atreus storms in after them, hauling Aerope to her feet. The slap rings through the small room, and Aerope jerks; Agamemnon is sure that if his father hadn't been holding her, she would've fallen to the floor.

"Shameless bitch! How dare you betray me when I've taken care of you since you came to Mycenae!"

There's blood on the floor, spat there by Aerope before she straightens up, and Agamemnon's stomach curdles for the dark-eyed fury in his father's face, that hasn't lessened in the least. He staggers to his feet, pushing Menelaos back to sit despite his protests, going more and more high-pitched.

"My body isn't the only thing that needs taken care of, but if your rough-handed handling of that, of your grandchildren, and how you kept your own son locked up, should be proof for how you handle hearts, Atreus, you're a terrible caret---"

The crack is more than flesh on flesh, Aerope jerking like a vase toppling over from a table, shattering on the floor, and Agamemnon dashes around the men, launching himself at his father's leg. It's the only thing he can reach.

"Leave her alone! She-hk!"

Whether it's his mother or Menelaos, or both, who scream his name when his father slaps him down into the floor, is hard to say. Agamemnon tries not to hiccup, tries not to cry, but it hurts, more than any slap his father - grandfather? - has ever given him before, and the anger carved into his face is dark like the shadows in the corridors had been, laying twisted in the unnaturally deep wrinkles on his face. Cold, not hot.

"Listen to me, Agamemnon," Atreus snaps, jerking Aerope close as he turns around, though he keeps his eyes on his grandson as he looks over his shoulder, pinning him to the ground as surely as a spear through the gut would have. "Women will turn on you no matter the kindness you show them; they are ruled by lust and their weak minds, knowing not what man is the most steady and can offer them the most protection. If they think another man can give them more wealth and comfort, they will abandon you in a heartbeat and open their bed for someone else. And stop crying. You're not a child."

Menelaos' warm little body launching itself into Agamemnon's doesn't help his aching gut at all, but Agamemnon hugs his crying little brother to himself anyway, clutching him close in the fear that his father - is that who he is? - or one of the other men will take him like Atreus is hauling Aerope off. No one does. They're left in that room for hours, and when they're finally allowed out, Aerope is nowhere to be seen. Menelaos is still crying, heaving sobs into Agamemnon's shoulder. His arms hurt from holding Menelaos up, but he's not going to let go. Not even when Menelaos' nurse come creeping down the corridor, wild- and wide-eyed as she glances to Hippia, then smiles faintly at Agamemnon and holds her hands out.

"No! He's fine where he is! And where is Mother?" Agamemnon snaps, and this time when he hugs Menelaos to himself, too tight, there's nary a peep aside from another hiccuping sob from his little brother, little fists tightening in his tunic in response. Agamemnon glares at the nurse until she wavers, then up at Atreus, behind her.

"You should have stopped his crying long before now, Agamemnon. He's too soft," Atreus says, and Agamemnon grimaces.

Menelaos is a baby! What does it matter if he's crying? He doesn't dare say anything, however.

"You don't keep a dog that has bitten you, Agamemnon," Atreus continues, voice cold, eyes colder. "Take your brother to the nursery and go to your own room."

He doesn't dare do anything else, no matter how little he wants to let go of Menelaos when they reach the nursery, no matter how much Menelaos screams for him, his nurse uselessly trying to soothe him. He'll come back later, when Atreus isn't looking, but for now, his stomach still aching, Agamemnon goes to his room.

He doesn't forget what happens. Certainly can't be upset when, fifteen years later, Aegisthus murders their father in his sleep. He's less happy when their uncle tosses him and Menelaos out of Mycenae, Aegisthus not saying a word in their defense and Agamemnon glares at him as they're forced out of the megaron. Wishes, for the first time, to wring his adoptive little brother's neck. Realizes, too, as they stand there, not even a worn-out donkey to their name and the echo of Anaxibia's protesting cry when she was shoved back to her own rooms (they'd been Aerope's, once) in his ears, that even if Atreus isn't actually their father, who is going to listen to them if he introduces them as sons of Pleisthenes? No one knows who that is.

"Agamemnon?" Menelaos, seventeen and by now more broad-shouldered than his older brother, but wide-eyed and with a shocked softness still clinging to his expression, looks up at him.

Even now, Menelaos isn't angry, just upset. He's gentle. It reminds Agamemnon of what their mother said about Pleisthenes, and can only be glad at the moment that the only thing he seems to have inherited from their father is the red from his hair. Right now, they can't afford to be kind, but he doesn't want to berate his brother. He doesn't ever, but especially not now. He'll just have to make sure there's no need to push Menelaos anywhere it isn't needed. Atreus is, finally, out of the picture, unable to so much as shoot a disapproving stare at Menelaos, but this situation still requires Agamemnon to be the older brother. Well, that's fine. He never planned to be anything else.

"What do we do?" Menelaos continues softly, swallowing heavily.

Agamemnon presses his lips thin and turns himself and Menelaos around.

"We walk."

Surely there will be one city in the Peloponnese that will shelter them, sons of Atreus and wrongfully thrown out of their home, until they might oust their uncle.

(As you might have noticed, this uses the alternate genealogy that has Agamemnon and Menelaos as sons of Pleisthenes, son of Atreus.)

#greek mythology #agamemnon #atreus #aerope #menelaus #lightart

[meltwonu]

s n a k e     |     e y e s     [chapter 3]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; 🥺💕thank you for all the interest in snake eyes!! I can't believe it!! y’all don’t know how happy that makes me because I love this au!! 💕💕💕 in this chapter: jihoonie makes a small oopsies 🥴oral(female receiving), minor switch!woozi, hehehe... im sorry, im mean and u will know why 😭😭💕 also this chapter is long, strap in for the long ass ride!! yeehaw

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - x - x - x - x

It takes a week and a half for you and Jihoon to really fall into a rhythm that suits his and your needs.

Jihoon is still shy around you, only spending an hour or two with you while you work until he feels too awkward again, slinking away back into his room. You wonder, periodically, if he happened to hear what you were doing in your bedroom the night he came to stay with you and if that was the reason he’d been so shy and quiet around you. But you quickly shake the thoughts out of your head, preferring to believe that he hadn’t, for your sake and his. Jihoon had never mentioned anything to you anyway, so you had no reason to believe he’d heard anything.

But it’s a rainy Sunday afternoon that has you bundled up in an oversized sweater on the living room sofa, laptop haphazardly on a side table while you take a break from writing. A movie plays quietly on the tv in front of you, but you don’t really pay attention to it. Jihoon emerges from his room, covered up in a big sweater and his sweats as he takes a seat on the opposite end of the sofa.

“It’s… r-really cold today…” His voice is soft, almost a whisper, as he pulls his legs up onto the sofa, crossing them as he tries to cover his skin. “I… kinda had a h-hard time sleeping.”

“Did you need more heaters? The forecast said it’s supposed to rain for the next couple days, Jihoon…” You trail off, already sliding off of the sofa as you fetch a blanket for the cold male. “I can go pick you up another one tomorrow, if you’d like?” Draping the soft blanket over him, he thanks you, snuggling into the soft material. “If it’s okay… I don’t want you to go out of your way if it’s too much.” You chuckle, settling into your spot on the sofa again as you pick up your laptop to get a bit of work done.

“Nonsense, I want you to be comfortable here.”

Jihoon’s stomach grumbles 45 minutes later as he sinks deeper into the plush blanket, hiding the flush that covers his cheeks. You laugh slightly, already hopping off to make him and yourself a snack to eat.

“You’re more than welcome to rummage the kitchen whenever you want, y’kno. Or if you want me to make you something to eat, you can always ask.”

“Sorry I’m just… still getting used to it. You’re definitely nicer than my past owners.” You hum, curious about how his previous owners treated him for him to be this shy, or if he was just naturally always this timid. “It’s okay! Take your time. I know it’s weird but I’m… I’m still getting used to it too.” You feel your body heating up, suddenly reminded of a questionable dream you’d had the previous night; the cute snake hybrid invading even your mind when you slept recently. God I really need to get laid somehow, you think, maybe that cute barista from down the street would be interested? I think his name was Jun. Reminder to self to get his number next time.

You grab a pan, setting it onto the stove as you gather ingredients to make ddeokbokki; something that Jihoon really loved to snack on. “Hey, Jihoon? Did you wanna help me make this? I can teach you a bit!” 

There’s a shuffling from the living room before the blonde haired male steps into the kitchen, a curious look on his face.

“I’ve never cooked before though…”

“It’ s okay! I can teach you. Just so that.. Um, just in case I’m not home or something and you get hungry?” He nods, stepping closer towards you as you set various ingredients onto the counter top. “Okay, I’ll just... Watch you.” You smile at him, urging him to come closer as you begin explaining what to do. But Jihoon’s mind fixates on something else, your voice getting drowned out when he feels the warmth radiating off of your body when he steps closer. Unbeknownst to you, Jihoon decides to stand almost directly behind you as you continue to explain how to cook to him.

When his hands start to slide up the hem of your sweater, you pause, setting the measuring cup back onto the counter top where it was before. Jihoon’s cold fingertips begin traveling up your sides, delicately caressing your skin under your sweater. Your breath is caught in your throat when he then leans his head over your shoulder, his tongue softly lapping at the exposed skin of your neck. A moan catches in your throat when you realize your body’s already rapidly heating up at his touch, the snake hybrid behind you also letting out a tiny moan of his own when he realizes how warm you’ve gotten.

But you snap back to reality, panic taking over when you let out a garbled noise, pushing back against Jihoon.

“Oh my g-god, wait--wh--”

Jihoon panics, pupils shaking as he pulls away completely, pressing himself into the fridge for a second before immediately bolting out of the kitchen without a word; only a door slam in the distance letting you know where he is.

A couple hours pass, the rain still pattering against the window as the moon rises beyond the clouds.

The ddeokbokki from earlier went unmade; ingredients going back to their original places as you decided to retreat to your own bedroom to catch your breath and cool yourself down. You really hadn’t hated what happened earlier, but it was quite the shock, and you could only imagine what Jihoon was feeling as well. But you set those feelings aside, making your way down the hallway to his bedroom to ask him about dinner. Fuck, he must be starving. He didn’t even eat earlier, you think.

You knock on his door, a muffled “yes?” coming from the other side.

“Jihoon did you want to eat dinner with me or will you eat later?”

“Uhm, hmm, I’m…um, I’ll.. I’ll eat with y-you.”

You set up the dinner table, setting Jihoon’s food across from you. You were glad that he just ate normal human food as it made it easier for you to take care of him; unsure if you could sit and watch him eat what snakes normally did. Hearing a door click, you break out of your thoughts, seeing him walk towards the dining table with a blush on his face.

“I… um…”

“Yes Jihoon?”

“I just… about earlier, I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have… um, stuck my hands in y-your shirt like that…”

The memory alone has you blushing, his delicate and cold fingertips brushing against your ribcage had a tingle traveling up your spine and down to your fingertips. You hadn’t hated it; just the shock from his touches had you initially recoiling, sending Jihoon running straight for his bedroom where he had holed up for hours.

“I… It was okay. I, um, didn’t hate it actually…”

“O-oh, uh, so… um, is it okay? If… If I do that sometimes? It’s… you feel nicer than, um, the h-heaters in my room so…”

“Y-yeah, I mean… y-yes, that would be… okay.” Shock momentarily flits over his features before a genuine smile etches onto his face. “Okay… U-um I mean, it---it won’t---I won’t, y’know, stick my hands in your shirt but maybe like---like we can, um, cuddle? Sometimes?” You almost choke on your food at his suggestion, suddenly too shy to make eye contact with him at how innocent it all sounded.

“Yeah that… that would be fine!”

The two of you have normal dinner conversations, you asking him about songs he’s been working on while he asks you about work. You remind him that you’ll pick up a new heater in the morning and begin clearing the table with his help.

When the dishes are cleared, you bid Jihoon a good night; thankful that the snake hybrid wasn’t too awkward after everything that had happened earlier in the day. He calls your name as you turn away from your doorway to face him again.

“Yes, Jihoon?”

“Um, I was wondering… If it’d be okay if I slept in your room? It’s just… Uh, it’s cold and raining and... yeah.”  

You contemplate it for a second, wondering if that was really the best idea, all things considered. But you mentally shrug, thinking, it’s just sleep.

“Sure, why not. Why don’t you get ready for bed and just… come in when you’re ready?” He nods, thanking you before he slinks down the hallway to his bedroom to change. The entire thing feels a little questionable, but you shrug it off, getting ready for bed before Jihoon shows up.

Admittedly, you normally would sleep in a big shirt and panties since you slept alone. But since Jihoon would be joining you this time, you slip on a sweater and some pajama pants, opting to be completely covered in order to prevent any potential mishaps. You could only pray your dreams were normal.

There’s a knock on the door when you slide under the bed sheets, adjusting your pillows before you reply.

“Come in!”

Jihoon opens the door, shutting it behind him as he stands in front of it awkwardly. Much like yourself, he stands there in an oversized sweater and pajama pants, hands digging into the material of his sweater as he takes in the features of your bedroom. When his eyes finally land on you already under the sheets, you pat the side of the bed that’s empty, inviting him in.

“C’mon let’s sleep. I still need to go out tomorrow morning to get your things.”

The extra heater is forgotten the next morning when you wake up in his iron grip.

It’s not uncomfortable, but he’s only got one arm wrapped around your waist and you find it almost virtually impossible to escape his hold as he snores softly into your neck. So you lay there, listening to the pitter-patter of the non-stop rain and his soft breaths, thankful that the two of you had fallen asleep without a hitch and that your dreams were normal.

Jihoon had quietly slid into the large bed with you, muttering a ‘good night’ before your radiating warmth under the sheets had lulled him to sleep.

You don’t know how much time passes as you lay there, but eventually Jihoon decides to wake up, a yawn and a simple ‘good morning’ muffled into your skin before he pulls away, turning to face the opposite side. You sit up, rubbing your tired eyes as you check the clock. 11:09am.

“Did you want breakfast?”

You never buy the heater; Jihoon happily moving some of his personal items to your bedroom after that late morning breakfast. And you didn’t mind, as long as the snake hybrid was happy, so were you.

He had dragged in a heater, using it on nights when you came to bed late, only for you to shut it off when you finally slid underneath the covers. He would easily find your warmth, rolling over to lock you into his grasp as you fell asleep.

It became routine over the next couple of weeks, even when the clouds cleared and the days and nights were warm. Jihoon opened up to you more as well, dragging his keyboard into the living room to play you some of the songs he’d been working on in his old bedroom, now a work space. You’d often work in your spare room but recently you’d been spending more time in the living room with Jihoon, finding the space more comfortable to be in. Setting your work away, you lay down on the sofa, a yawn on your lips.

“Hey, can I, um, ask you something?”

His voice breaks you out of your train of thought as you adjust your body. Jihoon sits on the floor near the window, fingers tapping random keys on the keyboard as he avoids eye contact.

“Yeah, what’s up?” There’s hesitance written all over his face before he nods to himself, exhaling sharply before he replies.

“I… I know maybe I’m asking for a lot and, I mean, feel free to say no because I know you probably will! And that’s--that’s okay but I was wondering… if--if I…” Jihoon pauses for much too long as you raise a brow.

“If you what? Jihoon, is everything okay?”

“I, yeah, everything’s fine, I just.. I’m sorry, I… It’s okay if you think it’s weird and I’ve never really done it before either but I just, I noticed when… when I touch you, you get really, um, warm and I… I like it a lot so I was wondering if I could try something?”

A million different thoughts float through your head in a millisecond and you can’t stop the blush that creeps up your neck and paints your face red.

“Um, I guess… it would depend? What exactly… did you want to try?” You bite the inside of your cheek, already trying to keep yourself from squirming around.

“I… can I try… eating you out? I wanna see something.”

The formality of Jihoon asking so politely if he could go down on you sends your brain short circuiting quicker than lightning.

He’s convinced at this point you hate him and will probably send him back to the adoption home the next day when he sees the blank look on your face as you process.

“Shit, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked that, I---”

“Y-yes…”

“Wait, what, hold--” Jihoon turns into a sputtering mess, his palms clammy against his sweats as he squirms. “Wait, did you say… yes?” You nod, already feeling the heat pooling in your lower abdomen as you shift awkwardly on the sofa. “Yeah I… um, I’d… be okay with that…” Trailing off, you try to look at everything but Jihoon, mildly embarrassed at how increasingly wet you were already getting.

“O-okay, um, when should we… do it?” Jihoon’s voice is shaky and to anyone else he sounded nervous, but inside he could barely contain his new found excitement.

“Now is okay? I… I’m okay with right now.” You finally look at him, finding him already crawling over to you on the floor before moving the coffee table enough to sit on his knees in front of you. “I guess, let’s start…?” He trails off, the blush never leaving his face as he twiddles his thumbs. You nod, sitting up to slide your shorts off, shimmying to the edge of the sofa as you spread your legs for him.

“Interesting.”

“W-what?” You stare at him from between your legs as he slots himself in front of you, cold palms holding your thighs open as you shiver from his touch. “Nothing, just… you’re already wet.”

If there was a sinkhole underneath you, you’d like for it to take you right about now. The embarrassment sets your body on fire as Jihoon chuckles under his breath. “And now you’re really warm? Interesting.” You bite your lip as he leans in closer to your clothed mound, his tongue peeking out from between his lips.

“Ready to test my theory?”

Gulping, he doesn’t even give you a chance to reply before he’s licking you through your panties, his tongue adding pressure along the wet patch growing on the fabric. Your thighs threaten to clamp shut around his head but his grip on you is too tight, prying your legs wide open as he continues to lick at your clothed entrance.

Jihoon pauses for a second, a groan leaving his lips. “Fuck, you taste so good, I need to get these panties off of you now.” Agreeing, you hook your fingers into the band of your panties, ready to get them off.

“Ah, ah, not like that.” There’s a ghost of a smirk on his face before he lets go of your thighs, fingertips pushing your hands away and replacing them with his before he tears them in half, the soaked material sliding off of your body as you stare at him in shock.

“Jihoon, what th---”

“What? Didn’t think I was capable?” You’re at a loss for words; the sudden change in his demeanor from shy to slightly dominating, intoxicating. “I’m just… wow.” He laughs at your lack of response, gripping your thighs again as he leans back in, his tongue already on your slit as he licks up a stripe from your clit to your entrance. Your hands immediately tangle into his hair, moaning as his tongue laps at your wetness.

You feel like you’re floating on clouds, warm and dreamy while Jihoon eats you out. He hadn’t even used his fingers on you yet, only sliding his tongue through your folds and prodding at your entrance and you were sure you could cum just like this.

“Ngh, Jihoon… Can you… make me cum?”

The male between your legs hums in response before his tongue flicks at your clit, a groan leaving you when he draws harsh circles around the nub. You can feel the pressure in your body cresting as you try to grind down on his waiting tongue.

“Jihoon, I’m---”

When you wake up, Jihoon is still by the window, notebook full of music related jargon as he glances up at you. “Oh hey, I was wondering when you’d wake up. You fell asleep so fast after you laid down, I was gonna ask if you wanted to hear some of the stuff I was working on but you were out like a light.”

Your head is void of any thoughts as you stare blankly into Jihoon’s face; the entire thing had been a dream. A cold sweat coats your body as you sit up, the wetness between your legs insanely real.

“I… yeah, I guess I was tired… I--I didn’t say anything weird in my sleep, did I?”

Jihoon ponders for a moment, lips tilting cutely up into a pout.

“No, I mean, you made some weird little squeaky noises but… that was it. Why? Did you have a weird dream or something?”

“Uh… no, just… wondering.”

Fuck.

#snakehybrid!woozi #woozi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios

[midnightmoonkiss]

Sweet Temptations

Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Summary: The rain certainly provides the perfect atmosphere to nap in.

WARNINGS!: none

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: It was raining a few days ago when I was taking a nap, so I decided to conjure up a self indulgent fic >~<

Just To Clarify:

Izuku is your fiance

you both live together in a house in the mountains

commute to work is probably a pain but oh well

The sprinkle of rain pitter-pattered gently on the roof of your shared home, dribbling off of the sides and thumping against the flat, smooth rocks strategically placed beneath.

Drip.

Drop.

Drip.

Though it was faint, the splashing of its drizzle in the koi pond just beside you could still be heard, even through the paper shoji dividing the two seperate spaces. The fresh yet blissfully familiar earthy scent of it seeped in through an open, wood-framed window not too far from where you sat, rain splattering noisily onto the vibrant red maple leaves just outside of it. The sweet sound molded together with the soft jingle of chimes swaying in the light breeze to create a beautiful melody that soothed your soul more-so than any show ever dreamed of doing.

Downpour was always best in the spring, the cool atmosphere welcoming it with loving arms. It always gave you a good excuse to stay bundled up on the plush couch, sipping at a freshly made cup of herbal tea. 

The wide TV just in front of you idly played something you couldn’t quite remember the name of, becoming more of background noise as your eyes always seemed to travel back to the droplets lazily flowing down the foggy glass of the window, dripping down onto the wet frame.

Surely the water would seep inside soon, traveling slowly down the wall just to puddle on the tatami mats, but the fresh air it provided was too good to pass up for something so mundane. 

Besides, it would take a long time for that to actually occur.

Days like this were the ones you found yourself loving the most.

A day to relax your bones stiffened by adult duties, letting the sounds of nature wash over your tired being. 

A day to not have to worry about anything.

No responsibilities, chores are already taken care of, work all done.

There was absolutely nothing of any importance that needed your immediate attention.

The lack of work wasn’t the only good thing on this fine day, though.

It was the peace and quiet.

A perk of moving into a home a ways away from the bustling city was the relative stillness, as well as the much-needed privacy.

That, and being surrounded by wildlife.

The place was a traditional Japanese home, or similar to it as the realtor had said. Surrounded by trees, flowers, well-placed stones, and babbling brooks. 

Living in a house like this was always a dream.

Perhaps thats why you were able to convince your lovely fiance to live here.

Tatami floor mats cushioned your near every step, the woodwork filling the interior the house becoming a sight for sore eyes every time you happened to notice the beautiful craftsmanship.

Everything was pristine.

New, yet held that comforting sense of tradition you always wanted.

A place where you could build a life with your handsome husband-to-be.

Yawning, you placed your tea cup onto the coffee table before stretching out on the couch you had lounged around on for far too many hours, arms rising high above your head. A satisfied groan left your lips the moment your back popped, the sickening crack being far louder than you had originally anticipated.

Boy, was your posture in true shambles.

The bone king quaked at your very feet.

You snorted at the thought, hopping off and stretching your legs out for a moment.

A quick press of the button turned the forgotten television off with a jingly bleep.

No point keeping it on when a new quest had opened up for your curious soul.

The quest of: Finding Izuku and annoying him.

Honestly, who would you be if you spent too long willingly away from him?

His sheer presence was far too calming and therapeutic for you to ever even consider such a foolish option.

Or perhaps you were just as love-struck with him as you were when you first had met.

Besides, knowing him, your big man probably desired your company as much as you suddenly did his.

So, grabbing your cup of tea, you slid your tan slippers on over your Christmas-themed fuzzy socks, wrapping your cozy (F/C) blanket around your shoulders before setting out on your little adventure.

It was around noon, the sun high in the sky shining as brightly as it could behind a plethora of darkened clouds. He always seemed to like reading around this time, his internal clock making his fingers itch for something to grab and run his eyes over.

Oftentimes his fingers swept through news articles on his phone or turned a delicate page of a random book that previously caught his brilliant green gaze at that old book store at the edge of the city that felt, in many ways, like a home you never knew you needed.

The store's calming ambience was the key inspiration for the fairy lights and various decorations scattered about your home, especially that kotatsu that sat in the middle of your living room.

Your feet padded gently on the tatami as you made your way around the house, first checking his little office hidden away in the back. It was hard not to cringe at the state of it. Papers were scattered everywhere and overflowing from the poor trash bin, random maps sprawled out on the desk, notebooks filled with notes and ideas to the left of his old, squeaky chair. It was a mess. Did he ever clean this place?

You were tempted to do so yourself for a split second, before realizing everything was in a specific place for a reason. A reason unknown to you, but known to him, as he explained sorrowfully the one night you did clean his office. He was a messy boy, forever and always. At least with his work. His mind ran too fast for his hands to keep up half the time, resulting in.. chaotic messes only he could comprehend.

Blinking, you slid the door shut with your foot, sipping at your drink as you carried on your search.

The house was quiet, save for the ever-present pattering of rain against it, giving no real indications of his true whereabouts.

Typically you could rely on his persistent muttering to swiftly locate him, but today was as silent as ever. No doubt the atmosphere got to him as well, making him want to relax somewhere and listen closely to the soft rainfall whilst doing whatever he pleased.

Humming, you checked each and every room you came across upstairs first, looking for the man you loved oh-so-much.

As time ticked on and minutes flew by, you found yourself getting pouty, fingers thrumming against the now empty mug as you continued searching.

Where on earth could he be? Sure, the house was a bit big, but you had already managed to cover the entire upstairs floor and the majority of the bottom. Calling out to him would be easier, he’d no doubt reply in that cheery tone that graced his voice whenever he spoke to you, but you wanted to find him on your own. Surprise him to a degree.

His senses were sharp, and he’d hear you the moment you came a few meters near him -  no matter how quiet you were, but that wasnt going to stop you from trying to surprise him.

Plus, calling out his name didnt quite seem appropriate. The still, chilly air would be ruined by your voice, and you couldn’t help but subconsciously want this search to go on until you yourself found him with your own eyes, and not use his voice as an aid.

After checking a few more rooms, you sighed heavily, head thumping against the wall as your resolution crumbled beneath your feet.

Was it really worth it? Being silent?

You weren’t even a ninja or some vigilante, you were just a bakery owner who never needed to sneak around, especially their own living space.

With a huff of aggravation, you walked to the kitchen. Holding an empty mug was pointless and served no purpose other than getting in your way, so naturally you decided to get another drink.

Oh, what to choose?

There were so many options to choose from other than tea.

Well, not really. More like, an endless amount of tea and three other things. Probably. 

Coffee? No, no, even if you were feeling a bit sleepy, now was not the time for a caffeine high.

Oh!

What about hot chocolate?

Yes! Absolutely! 

This cold weather certainly called for a nice, hot cup of a sugary sweet, chocolatey drink to warm your tummy and renew your resolve.

As you were mixing the cocoa powder into your warmed up cup of milk, watching with childish glee as the dark brown swirled with white for a moment until it mixed into a nice tawny brown that reminded you of delicious brownies, a distant noise caught your attention.

Your head instantly perked up, eyes flying up to peer out the large window in front of you.

Rain continued to pour softly down onto the wet and muddy ground, momentary water halos forming as they splatted down onto the darkened pathement.

A car zoomed past, throwing muddied water up onto the far away end of your driveway.

Ah.

So it was a car.

It was hard not to feel disappointed at that, partially because you had hoped it was Izuku giving away his location by accident. 

Though he could be quite loud at times, that man had the power to be quieter than a kid told to wake their parent up in a bit to do chores.

With a discontented sigh, you placed the spoon into the sink, sprinkling some tiny marshmallows into your drink before walking off to continue the man hunt.

There weren’t too many places left inside for you to check, and you managed to do so in only a minute or two.

Truly, you were dumbfounded.

Where could he possibly be?

Did he take his car and go somewhere?

No, no, he would have told you if that were the case, and you would have seen him exit the front entrance as well.

So where?

You stopped in your tracks, being slapped upside the head with sudden realization.

Of course he wouldnt be inside huddled away like a lonely hermit on a day like this, no, he’d enjoy it! Breathe in the earthy fresh air as it enveloped him. 

He loved the rain far more than you did, so it made sense.

You smiled, taking a big sip of your hot chocolate as you suddenly knew exactly where he was.

It was hard to say you didn’t feel like a complete idiot for missing something so simple as you walked back to the living room.

There was always one place he liked to hang out at during a nice day.

On the engawa hovering over the koi pond.

You stopped just in front of the shoji screen, excitement already sparking in your system.

You rocked back and forth on your feet as you took a breath to calm your racing heart, the goofiest smile etched upon your face.

Your fingers dipped into the slots used to open the door, 

One.

Two.

Three!!

“BOO!” You screeched like a banshee down at the man relaxing on a cushion by the edge of the wood, glasses tipping off his nose as his focused eyes stayed glued to the book in his hands.

“Ahh!” He playfully shouts in response, a smirk upon his lips as he notices your exasperated state slinking down onto your knees on the polished floor with a look of utter defeat upon your cute face

“I was trying to scare you..!”

Came your complaint, eyes boring into his own as you pouted.

“I was scared. I screamed!” Izuku chuckles, shoulders shaking as he couldnt control that goofy smile of his.

If he was trying to look convincing, he was failing horribly.

You huffed at his antics, he was far too cute to even pretend to be mad at.

You should have known better, though, trying to scare the number one hero in his own home was like trying to scare someone who knew you were coming from a mile away.

Plus, you knew that before you even realized where he was.

It was to be expected of such a talented guy.

After sliding the shoji shut to keep the warmer air in, you crawled over to him. His upper back rested comfortably on a wooden support beam as his legs sprawled out in front of him, a leather book perched on his lap.

“So, what are you reading?” from the looks of it, it seemed to be an older book of sorts, the pages a yellowish-white and the cover boring no text.

You were now sitting beside him on your knees in what would’ve been shoulder to shoulder if he wasn’t so much more taller than you, sipping at your drink once more.

It was simply too good to resist.

“It was described to me as a ‘classic’ at the store. It’s a book filled with multiple fairy tales, each having a sort of.. theme or moral told in ink at the end. There's got to be at least twenty or so in here..” he spoke with enthusiasm, eagerly showing you the one he was currently reading.

“‘The Little Mermaid’?”

It grew increasingly rare for children to know the tale of The Little Mermaid, or at least, the adaptation of it that was shown on a screen. It was a fairly old film, one you remember your grandparents speaking briefly about with joy, but still a very beloved one. A joyous little tale of a red-haired mermaid seeking the love of a prince. How cute.

But why on Earth was he reading a children's book, then?

Not that you’d ever judge him, it was just that his taste was generally more.. Sophisticated. To a degree, of course.

“Yes. But this is the original one. The true tale of ‘The Little Mermaid’, the one filled with pain and gore.”

“P-pain.. and gore?” Well now that certainly didn't sound like a children's book. Is that why it's called a classic?

He hums, thumbing through a few pages, “It’s kind of inspiring. Each step she took felt like she was walking on glass, but she never gave up on being with her prince. I think, at least, I haven’t really finished it yet.”

“Are all the originals that horrifying?” you looked down at the book with disbelief, certainly not expecting each dream-like fairy tail to revolve around a horror story.

“Some are worse, some are better, but it’s a nice read.” he shrugged, going back to his original place in the book and nudging his glasses back up on his nose.

They always did make him look so gosh darn cute.

His eyesight was as perfect as the sky was blue, but for reading? He needed glasses. They were those cheap kinds found at bookstores, but damn if those black frames didn't pull his handsome face together.

He looked so attractive, even in this dulled lighting.

You’d expect someone to look gloomy when it rains, the shadows casted by the caliginous sky and stormy clouds bringing out the sadness buried deep within someone's soul and causing them to frown. Something mystical yet scientific. The rain always brought misfortune and sorrow, but Izuku has and forever will be that sun that never stops shining brightly no matter what. That optimism despite even the toughest situations always affected the way he looked, and boy did he always look irresistible. Even in this rainy overcast, he still smiled and sparkled with enthusiasm

Just another thing to love endlessly about him

You couldnt tell, but you were currently staring at him with lovestruck eyes and the dopiest smile that ever existed plastered on your chocolate coated lips.

Izuku found himself grinning along with you as his face stayed forward, peaking at you from the corner of his eye.

Your mug of hot chocolate was seemingly forgotten as you hugged his large, muscular arm, an act he certainly didnt mind if the light flush on his cheeks were anything to go by.

“You’ve got a chocolate moustache, princess.” The boy pointed out, lips pressing into a thin line to push down any giggles rumbling in his chest.

“W-what! Really?” oh, how embarrassing. How the hell did you get it on yourself? You weren’t a kid, only kids got those, right? Oh dear.

Just as you were about to wipe it off with your blanket still draped around you, Izuku turned, gently cupping your cheek and gazing deeply into your wide, (E/C) eyes.

Oh man.

His eyes.

Up close, they were the most beautiful thing you ever did see.

Age certainly did affect them, but not in a negative way. No, they were still as captivating as ever, but now there were tiny specks of brown you’d only truly see if you were this close to him, but god did they bring those eyes together. It was like staring into a forest coated in morning dew and shimmering with the blinding light of the sun.

Addicting. You’d certainly be the first to say you could stare into them for hours and never get bored.

“Here, let me.” his tone was softer than ever, yet held a bite of playfulness.

Eyes slipping closed, you nuzzled your rosey cheek into his scarred palm, an act the man you loved couldn't help but find utterly adorable and innocent.

Honestly, you were expecting him to wipe it away with his thumb or something, but the moment you felt something warm and wet lick across the top of your lip, you erupted with laughter.

“Eww! Izukuu!” you nearly choked on the words from how hard you found yourself laughing, weakly pushing his face away.

“What do you mean ew~” That teasing tone he always seemed to use on you during moments like these resurfaced, “i’ve done much ‘grosser’ things to you than just licking your lip, darling.” 

Face burning from embarrassment, you whined loudly as he gingerly pulled you into his lap, your thighs on the sides of his own, placing the book down beside him just so that he could hug you close to him.

It was impossible not to relax instantly into his comforting embrace, the blanket previously doing next to nothing to protect you from this chilly air, but his body was like a heater in itself.

So, so warm.

“You’re forgiven.” you mumble against his neck, unintentionally sending sweet shivers down his spine.

“You s-sound tired..” the bashful man stuttered in that cute way he always seemed to do when flustered, hand idly rubbing up and down your blanket clad back.

“Mm.. just a little.” You didn't even realize how tired you were until you had a chance to sink into his warmth. Perhaps searching all over the house for the past half hour wore you out more than you’d like to admit.

Plus.. the calming rain certainly wasnt helping.

It was much more intense out here than it was when inside, the splatter of it hitting the pond not as muffled as before, mainly due to the fact that the pond was so close you could reach out and touch it if you so desired.

Which you didn’t.

Because then you’d get wet.

The sheer thought of getting cold water on your warm skin made you cringe, huffing through your nose just to nuzzle it into the crook of his neck.

Breathing in his scent was like being slapped with all the good things in your life.

He always had a bit of a musky scent. It was hard to tell if it came from his sweat or just natural scent, either way- it wasn’t all that bad when paired with his shampoo and conditioner.

Always one to use, for lack of better words, green scents. Planty scents. Scents that made you just want to bury your nose in his dreamily soft, fluffy green hair and stay there all day, carding your fingers through the locks just to hear his satisfied hum.

In a short conclusion, not only did he radiate manliness, but he also smelled manly.

Isn’t that what his friend, Red Riot, would say? Manly?

It was hard to describe him as anything but that.

He certainly grew up quite a bit after his years at UA, growing taller and becoming even more buff as he got to work on the field more. Age 18 was certainly a convenient time for him to have a growth spurt. And here he was now, 25, littered with scars you always pressed loving kisses to whenever you got the chance, and as handsome as ever.

But he knew you liked his scent, because you would often tell him that. Especially when he got out of the shower. It was actually hard for him to get dressed because you were clinging onto him, enjoying the lovely smells as he desperately clutched at his towel and whined.

It was very easy for him to compare you to a baby sloth, something that always clung to another. It was cute, and he always adored the attention, something he lacked growing up.

Even now, he knew exactly what you were thinking as you sighed happily. Your body seemed to slump against his, fitting into his arms like the puzzle piece he had always been looking for. He’d be damned if he ever lost it.

Pressing a tender kiss against your temple, he smiled the moment he noticed your breathing slowly getting deeper.

“Falling asleep, hmm?” he whispered, “I guess you do nap around this time.”

As expected, he didn't quite get a response other than a simple hum.

You really were too cute.

But he couldn't blame you anyway, it was the perfect weather and place to take a nap.

It wasn't often he was able to nap with you, so you must be inwardly jumping for joy as his heartbeat and soft thumps of rain against the roof lulled you to sleep.

You always felt so.. protected and safe in his hold. And that wasn’t just because he was a hero, no, it was something more primal, like whenever you were in his arms you were always drowning in the feeling of love and safety.

Maybe it was something more than that, but you were far too tired to actually come up with any logical explanations.

So instead, you finally let yourself drip into dreamland in the warm embrace of your beloved, letting gentle chimes swaying in the wind and the relaxing sound of rain be your guide.

And Izuku?

Well, he went back to reading his book, using your lovely ass as a place to rest it.

#i bet yall thought this was a smut from the title #i see you #owo #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader #izuku x you #izuku midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x you #sfw #bnha #mha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #deku x you #izuku midoriya #izuku #midoriya izuku #deku #bnha deku #mha deku #bnha izuku #mha izuku #x reader

[bauslut]

as you are | vi.

pairing: aaron hotchner x oc 

word count: 5.810k

warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of sexual assault, nudity, oral (receiving), filthy talk, use of pet names, sir kink, slight dom/sub, age gap, cursing, angst, lots and lots of angst, mentions of infant death, allusions to sex, cock warming, crying, marking, nsfw

a/n: this is the sixth chapter of my hotch fic! first off, i want to thank @sapphicstars​ for being my go-to for all my hotch rambles, for being my best friend, & for beta reading the past few chapters! thank you for being such a dear friend, i love you <3 let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist! i hope you guys enjoy, as i’m super proud of this! :’) 

| iv. | v.| 

a drizzle drummed against the window, the sheer cream curtains drawn, rays of light from the lamp casting a warm golden glow all around, illuminating nearly everything. the only sound was the patter of the drops as they collided with the windowpane, and the occasional shuffle of papers, the heating unit only nothing but white noise, drowned out by the rain. 

rowan rivers sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with a loose thread on the patterned comforter, “so, do you want to shower first or would you like me to go?”

“you should go,” the rustle of paper followed his sentence, “you’re the one who’s wearing damp clothes. honestly, i’m not sure why you haven’t showered yet and changed into dry clothes.”

“and what are we going to do about the bed?”

“i’ll just sleep on the floor,” a weary sigh reverberated off the thin walls, “nothing that i haven’t done before.”

“aaron,” rowan rolled her eyes, slipping off the mattress, “do you realize that us sleeping in the same bed is nothing out of the ordinary?”

the unit chief was adjacent to the agent, his knees bent, acting as a prop for the file of the unsub. a notebook lied directly next to his thigh, open, a few notes scribbled into the margins. his coat was hung in the closet, suit jacket slung across a faux leather chair, nothing but his dress shirt and tie covering his top half, the tie loosened so that it wasn’t so tight around his neck. 

aaron’s lips pursed, brow arching, “you don’t recall a single memory from that night, yet that’s the only thing you remember?”

“there’s a lot that’s coming back to me,” rowan shrugged, padding over to her bag, “well since you’re not protesting, i’m about to go use all of the hot water.”

“go ahead,” a chuckle flowed from his lips, light and airy, “i don’t mind a cold shower sometimes.”

“you’re ridiculous,” rowan snorted, “although i’m not shocked that you like cold showers.”

“i’m nowhere near as ridiculous as david rossi,” aaron brought a bottle of water to his mouth, taking a slip, “you realize this was intentional, right?”

“i wasn’t born yesterday,” her voice crescendoed as she entered the bathroom, rising again as she spoke, “if you need me, i’ll be in here.”

aaron mumbled an incoherent strand of words under his breath, cursing david rossi. not only did he have a case to investigate, he also had six members of his team badgering him about a coworker. 

sure, the taunting on the jet was enough to handle. he could fire back, shooting down their teasing remarks with ease, able to maintain his cool, calm, composure. he was in control of the situation, shutting them up in a matter of minutes. nothing that he hadn’t encountered before. 

however, this was a stark contrast. 

aaron was in shambles, his skin flushed, neck painted with pink splotches as he gnawed on his lower lip. her mere presence was enough to have him crumpling to his knees, completely and utterly allured by her beauty. gravitating towards her voice whenever those plush lips parted, hanging onto every word. every interaction leaving one singular question ringing through his mind, clouding his thoughts. 

how much longer was he going to able to keep it together?

“all right,” her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, snapping back to reality, “your turn.”

a fluffy white robe was cinched around her waist, the fabric covering nearly everything but a patch of skin between her breasts, a few marks poking out in the light. they were faded some, yet still prominent.

licking his lips, aaron clambered out of the bed, mustering every fiber in his being to break his gaze away, careful not to stare for too long. 

“that was quick.”

“i didn’t want to waste the warm water,” she responded, ringing a towel through her hair, “i’ll just change in here while you shower.”

“you have no problem stripping when you’re inebriated but the second you’re sober you have second thoughts?” aaron let out a laugh, lips stretching into a broader grin as he noticed the rosy hue spread through her cheeks, “i’m just teasing.”

“i hate you,” rowan muttered, lips curving into a pout.

“i know for a fact that you don’t.”

“i’ll be in bed when you return,” her eyes crinkled shut as her hand deflected a yawn. 

“and when i get out, i’ll be careful not to make any noise. every minute of sleep is precious. we have an unsub to track down when morning comes.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“what time is it?” her voice was barely a whisper, her back facing him. 

aaron rolled over, squinting in the low light. the numbers glared back, a sigh exiting his lips, “it’s about two thirty-eight, ro.”

“from the sound of it, you can’t sleep either.” 

“this bed is pretty uncomfortable,” aaron pulled the comforter tighter to his body, nuzzling into the pillow. 

“so are these pillows,” she grumbled, her tone hot with scorn, “why couldn’t we have booked some hotel in the town over?”

“the nearest town is forty minutes away.”

“so why can’t you sleep?” the ruffle of sheets crept into his left ear, “something on your mind?” 

“there’s a lot on my mind ro.”

“there you go again, calling me ‘ro’,” she exhaled, “you need to pick a side, aaron.”

“pick a side?” shifting his body, aaron faced rowan, his brow furrowed, “what are you talking about, rowan?”

“you need to pick a side,” she repeated, her depths nearly gleaming silver, “you can’t just keep leading me on but then pushing me away. it’s so fucking confusing because i like being around you, aaron, i really do. you make me happy and every time that i’m not with you, there’s this part of me that misses you.”

“rowan--” his throat tightened, “it’s just that--”

“oh what?” she challenged, “what is it that’s holding you back? right now, you’re laying close enough to reach out, close enough to touch me, but not too close because there is something in your mind telling you not to. is it the divorce? are you guys even officially separated? from the frequent phone calls you’ve been receiving lately, it seems as if it’s sorting out plans. sorting out plans for daycare, for spending the night. it’s sorting out plans for jack. the two of you don’t even live together and rossi told me that it’s been months since the papers were filed.”

“rowan.” her name was eerily quiet as it tumbled from his lips, yet she continued, her voice rising, inflected with notes of fury, tears threatening to spill over. 

an index finger prodded his chest, digging in, “you may have a cold tone when talking to me, but the second that i walk into a room your eyes gravitate towards my presence. you are keen when i speak and always tell the others to quiet down when i have headaches. you always ask if i’m going to make it home okay. fuck, the other night you let me stay at your apartment. is that just normal behavior to you? what are you so fucking afraid of aaron hotchner? and yes, i know how much you fucking despise being profiled but--”

“for fuck’s sakes,” the words were a growl, gravelly and harsh, “come here.”

fingers crept onto her cheeks, palms fully enveloping the heated skin, pulling her closer, mouths only inches away from one another. 

rowan’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes searched hers, the tip of his nose grazing against the inside of her cheek, “a-are you going to answer my question or not?”

“only if you want me to,” her lashes fluttered as lips brushed against hers, soft and plush.

“please do.”

the fingers glided into her hair, tugging at the roots as mouths collided with hers, a fiery kiss unraveling. aaron pulled her closer, desperate to have her as close as teeth gnashed against teeth, tongue delving into her mouth. a faint taste of cherries lingered, the taste sweet, only making him crave more. rowan’s hands flew to his chest, clutching the fabric of his tee as he sucked on her lower lip harshly, a whine rising in her throat. 

the whimper escalated into a broken moan as his mouth drifted lower, trailing just below her jawline, “a-aaron, please.”

“what?” he paused, voice edged with lust, “you have to use your words, ro.”

a shiver ran down her spine, her body nearly collapsing into his, “we have all night, you don’t have to be hasty.”

“i don’t know how much longer i can hold back ro.”

“god aaron,” rowan panted as he nipped at her neck, “i bet they can hear us--”

“let ‘em,” satisfaction coursed through him as he marveled at the fresh mark, “i want to hear you.”

fingers laced into his silky hair as his mouth drifted, tugging at the roots, “fuck, aaron. just take it off.”

he paused, breaking away, heart thudding, blood roaring in his ears, “do you want me to?”

rowan nodded, her cheeks tainted crimson, “please.”

gently, his hands hooked the hem of the plush crewneck clinging to her frame, gesturing for her to sit up. carefully, he worked it up her arms, pulling it over her head, casting the article of clothing to the floor. 

at the sight of her, he nearly came undone. 

her breasts bounced as her back hit the mattress, a cotton thong hugging her hips. her lips were parted, curved into a shy smile, brunette hair sweeping against the pillow. a silver chain glittered, hanging loosely from her neck, a charm resting against her collarbone. swallowing thickly, his hands gravitated towards her sides, slowly trailing back and forth, savoring the softness of her skin against his. several, tiny scars littered her chest, spanning down to the plane of her stomach, the areas a more pale complexion than the rest. 

“i’m sorry about the scars,” she sputtered, tripping over the words, “they’re really a mood killer and i’m so--”

 “ro,” his tone was firm, yet his voice was so gentle, so quiet, “don’t you dare apologize. you’re beautiful.”

a hand cupped his cheek, her thumb caressing the cheekbone, “you’re the first man who’s ever said that to me and meant it.”

“i’ll say it over and over again. all day, every day. every single second that i’m around you because i fucking mean it, rowan. you’re beautiful.” 

tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over, “t-thank you.”

“no crying,” a chuckle tumbled from his lips, the pad of his thumb wiping away a tear, “i always hate seeing you cry.”

“i won’t cry anymore, promise. you should take this off,” her nails grazed the collar of his tee, “so we’re even.”

without any hesitations, he slipped out of his shirt, lowering his head so that he was at level with her chest, “can i?”

“can you what?”

“well,” his breath fanned against her skin, in close proximity, “you asked me a few nights ago if i wanted to suck on them. can i?”

“god, please.”

his mouth wrapped around her nipple, her back arching into him as his teeth tugged lightly, tongue flicking over the bud. rowan’s nails dug into his back, moans flooding the space, low and breathy, only fueling the lust burning within him. god, he needed more of her. he needed more of her so fucking bad. he needed all of her. 

“a-aaron,” rowan whimpered as his tongue traveled lower, going down her stomach, “i-i need you to touch me. or do something. fuck, i’m so wet and i can fucking feel it. i need you.”

“yeah?” his tone oozed authority, “you need me? how bad? how badly do you need me to touch you?”

“i just fucking need you,” her head thudded against the pillow, jaw slack, “i need you bad, aaron hotchner.”

the sound of his name, his full name, dripping from her lips, nearly sent him over the edge of losing all inhibitions, drunk off lust. 

aaron’s hands sprawled across her thighs, parting them in one swift motion, “if this gets to be too much, let me know. all right?”

“all right.”

settling flat on his stomach, his arms hooked around her thighs, his head level with her thong, “holy fuck. i can see how wet you are.”

“it’s all for you,” her voice faltered, squirming slightly as the tip of his nose brushed against her clit, “i’m so wet for you, sir.”

“sir?” aaron arched a brow, a smug smirk enveloping his features, “i like that, especially coming from your pretty little mouth. do you want me to put you in your place pretty girl? you want me to remind you who’s in charge? do you want me to make you feel good?”

rowan’s throat tightened, her clit practically throbbing through the cotton now, the fabric drenched with her juices, “yes sir. i need you to put me in my place.”

“that’s a good girl,” he hummed, fingers hooking the waistband, “let’s get these off you, hmmm?”

eagerly, rowan shimmied, aaron’s touch sending ripples of euphoria coursing through her body. it was almost as if every single part of her body was on fire, lit up from his words alone. the touch only intensified the scorching desire, consuming her whole. 

his tongue darted out, licking a stripe from her hole to her clit, delving between her folds, a pleased hum rising in his throat as he swallowed.

“i always knew you’d taste this good, pretty girl.”

“god,” she writhed beneath him, instinctively bucking her hips, “please--”

the sentence dissolved into a groan as his mouth connected with her pussy, burying his tongue into it. rowan’s hands tangled into his hair, pulling, only goading him to keep going. to keep ravaging her with his mouth until she was begging to stop. his tongue glided upwards, swirling on her clit, lapping away, desperate to taste every inch. to explore every convex and concave until there was nothing left. nothing left to taste.

“a-aaron,” pulling away, a strand of saliva followed, glittering in the light.

“say my name, say it again pretty girl. and don’t fucking stutter.”

“but your mouth--” she protested, biting her tongue.

a growl rumbled, “i don’t care where my mouth was. say it again.”

hands squeezed her breasts, rolling her nipples between fingers. the pleasure was overwhelming, the waves racking rowan’s body as his lips wrapped around her clit, sucking and darting across it. heat radiated off her cheeks, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. 

“i-i’m going to cum,” a needy whine rang through the room, bouncing off the walls. 

“you better cum,” he was pinching her nipples now, “you better fucking cum like the good girl i know you are.”

“i-i’m going to,” her thighs twitched, her breathing picking up, “oh my god aaron, i’m going to--”

“that’s a good girl,” aaron’s eyes drank in the sight of her, trembling underneath him, her climax seconds away from unraveling, “you cum like the good girl you are.”

her hips rolled, riding out her orgasm on his tongue, clutching fistfuls of his hair. giving her pussy one final lick, aaron pulled away, her juices coating his mouth, dripping onto his chin. his cock was twitching now, pre-cum dribbling along his length, constrained to the tightness of his boxers. 

“fuck,” rowan cursed under her breath, her chest heaving, strands of hair plastered to her forehead, “aaron--” 

“you hanging in there, ro?” 

her response was a meek nod, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple, “yes.”

“i’m not finished with you yet princess,” aaron’s voice wavered as rowan propped herself up, reaching out, her hand flattening out on the print, fingers squeezing his shaft, “good god, p-please.”

“what?” tilting her head, rowan peered at him through thick lashes, batting them, “what is it, aaron?”

“i need you to fucking sit on it, that’s fucking what.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“what time are we supposed to meet at the station again?” 

“only a couple of hours now,” aaron fought back a yawn, pressing a light kiss to her shoulder blade, “it’s nearly five in the morning, ro.”

bodies were intertwined, a flurry of limbs. the haze of sex lingered, the scent of arousal thick in the air. yet, aaron hotchner felt nothing but pure bliss as he cradled her body in his arms, a warm, cozy feeling seeping into his chest as her bare skin pressed against his. 

shifting ever so slightly, a low grunt rumbled in his throat as his tip plunged further in, his cock coated with a sticky mess of his and her cum, the juices practically leaking down his shaft, pooling onto the sheets.

“aaron, please.”

“please what?” satisfaction coursed through his veins as her voice dripped with a plea, “you gotta use your words with me, rowan. i can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

“we’ll be up all night,” rowan whispered, “i-it feels so good.”

swallowing thickly, his hand traveled from her hip to the plane of her stomach, “god, i think i can feel it.”

“i don’t know if i can handle any more.”

“i know baby,” pecking her cheek, aaron pulled out, savoring the sensation of her walls wrapped around his cock, “let’s get you cleaned up, and then maybe we’ll be able to get a few minutes of shut-eye before a phone rings.”

baby. 

rowan’s heart nearly soared at the pet name, the gentle notes inflected in his tone as he uttered it, the way it just sounded so right coming from him. god, was she so vulnerable in this state: enveloped in his tight embrace, nearly melting into his arms, not a single article of clothing adorning her frame.

in the moment, she was nothing but happy, cozy and content under the covers. 

if only she could spend every night like this with him, basking in the intimacy. falling so much harder than she initially thought. sure, aaron hotchner was a handsome man. he was level-headed, carried himself with ease, and was so utterly good-looking. he was a family man, unafraid to express his abundant love for his son. he was compassionate, putting his needs of the team before his own. he was self-less, always thrusting himself into harm's way before any member of his team or civilian. 

however, there was one aspect that rowan couldn’t understand. one particular trait that prevented her from giving herself to him completely. 

why couldn’t aaron hotchner show any vulnerability? why was he a changed man behind closed doors? 

“there,” his voice cut in the silence, “i changed the sheets. we should really rest, ro.”

padding over to the bed, rowan settled into the comforter, allowing space for aaron. within seconds, he was pulling her in, head nuzzling into the crook of her head, stubble grazing soft flesh, “i never really noticed it before, but you wear a butterfly necklace. is there any significance behind that?”

“i thought we were going to sleep hotchner,” rowan let out a hoarse chuckle, “but, to answer your query, i wear it in honor of my older brother. he was stillborn. when i was younger, my mom used to tell me that every single butterfly that i encountered was joshua, and he was just fluttering by to say hello. i wear the necklace to keep him close to my heart, because that’s where he resides. nearly every night, i dream about meeting him. i.. i really wish i could give him a hug sometimes, ya know? but you can’t hug butterflies or else that will kill them.”

fingers intertwined with hers, “you didn’t have to share that with me, ro, but i am so grateful that you did.”

“the thing is,” she paused, exhaling, “i want to share everything with you, aaron.”

lips brushed against her skin, “and i want to hear it all. every memory, every story, every inside joke. i want you to share these experiences and tales with me, rowan. i promise that i’ll listen.”

“what’s wrong with us? we’re not supposed to fall in love, aaron hotchner. you’re my boss. we’re federal agents. if anyone found out, our lives would be obliterated. if strauss ever caught wind of this, oh my god we would be--”

“rowan, listen to me,” the words were grounding,  “i don’t care what happens. there’s a lot of uncertainty in the future, but i know one thing’s for certain. i want anything to do with you, no matter what the cost. i would ask about those damn boots you love so much, but we really need to sleep if we’re going to function at all tomorrow. and i need that brilliant mind of yours if we’re going to get this guy.”

“i was planning on spilling a few more secrets.”

“we have the whole flight home for that,” the laugh vibrated in his throat, “sleep well, rowan. sweet dreams. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

“sweet dreams hotchner,” rowan murmured, lids heavy with exhaustion. 

within hours, beams of light were filtering in through the curtains, stirring the agent awake. groggily, she shifted, rolling over to face aaron, instinctively leaning in to press her lips against his for a warm good morning. 

but he wasn’t there, the mattress nothing but an unforgiving void of cold sheets and broken promises. 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“listen,” emily prentiss grumbled, sifting through a pile of bills, “you owe me if i’m right.”

“i won’t,” rossi countered, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he cracked a smug smirk, “this isn’t the fifty i was promised when we made this bet. we shook on it, remember?”’

derek morgan poked his head out a door, “do you guys think they fucked?”

“fucked is such a vulgar word,” garcia snorted, shouldering past morgan, “also, i hate you for putting that filthy image in my head. it’s going to be there all day thanks to you.”

“It’s nothing that we don’t do babygirl,” morgan shot her a wink, “how much do i owe you, rossi?”

“fifty dollars,” rossi beamed, “i prefer fives, if you have them.”

“i don’t think that they had sexual intercourse,” reid cleared his throat, striding towards the elevator, “the infrastructure of this building has extremely thin walls. i would have heard something. do you guys even think that hotch has that stamina to--”

“all right, that’s enough!” morgan coughed, throwing his bag over his shoulder, “where is hotch, anyways? the door is cracked, but i haven’t seen him or rowan leave the room.”

“i’m sure all of our questions will be answered within the hour,” rossi remarked, accepting a wad of cash from morgan, “if we see hotch smile today, then that tells us that they weren’t sleeping last night.”

the team held their breaths as a door opened, rowan stepping out, shutting it softly behind her, “good morning guys.”

“good morning rivers!” prentiss chirped, “how did you sleep last night? don’t tell me he made you sleep on the floor.”

“i didn’t get much sleep at all,” the brunette muttered, “have you guys seen hotch at all this morning?”

“no,” rossi replied curtly, “we thought you two were getting a few more minutes of snuggling before we had to leave.”

rowan’s eyes squeezed shut, her features twisting together with pain, “c-can we please just quit it with the teasing today? just for today?” 

“oh,” prentiss’ face fell, brow furrowing with concern, “i-is everything alright rivers?”

“we didn’t mean to--” morgan began, but was promptly cut off by garcia. 

“maybe you just haven’t had your morning coffee yet buttercup. let’s get you something to eat too. you look like you’ve seen a ghost or something utterly horrifying. caffeine always lifts my spirits.”

as garcia and rowan strolled to the elevator, whispering amongst one another, rossi nudged morgan, “something happened last night between the two of them.”

“should we ask hotch about it?” prentiss inquired, picking a hair off her blazer, “or, should we leave it be?”

“i’ll handle it,” rossi smoothed out his shirt, lugging his back behind him. 

“i have an inkling that our unit chief is not aware of the consequences that come with reckless thinking.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“how are things today kiddo?” rowan flinched as a hand connected with her shoulder, “you’ve barely spoken a word to us all morning. and you’ve listened to every single order hotch has given you. is there something wrong?”

“oh,” rowan blinked, swiveling around in a chair, “um, i’ve just had a morning, i guess.”

letting out a sigh, david rossi slid into the nearest seat, scooting towards the agent, “you forget that i’ve been in this field for years, rowan. i know when something’s up. i won’t prod too much, but i’m worried about you. is it something to do with the case?”

“d-do you think anyone’s going to come over here?” rowan’s gaze flickered towards the group of cops huddled around the control center, chattering away. 

“come,” rossi rose to his feet, offering the brunette his elbow, “let’s go on a walk. there’s not much to do around here anyways. garcia is picking through the laptop, it may take a while.”

graciously, rowan accepted his offer, following him outside of the station into the dreariness of forks. dark, flint grey clouds loomed over, threatening rain. the air was chilly, piercing the agent to the bone as she clung onto rossi. 

“wait,” rossi paused, discarding his coat, “did romeo forget to offer his juliet his coat this morning?”

shoving her arms into the sleeves, rowan shuddered as a breeze rolled through the streets, “romeo is a fucking jackass, that’s what.”

“oh is he now?” rossi mused, “i figured he was the reason why your mood drastically changed. if you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

“a lot,” the agent mumbled, careful to avoid the question. 

“i want to help,” he stated, his tone cool, “but i can’t do that if you don’t let me know what happened, rowan.”

“i-i’m sure it’s no secret that i came from a very, very, horrible place,” rowan began, shrinking inside the coat, boots thudding against the pavement, “the first day i arrived at the bau, it was also no secret that aa-- hotch and i butted heads. there are still times in which he annoys the shit out of me, but that’s besides the point. last night i made a mistake. i allowed myself to be vulnerable and let him see parts of me that i’ve hidden for so long. rossi, i-i, i’ve never allowed a man to touch me like that. not since the night of the stakeout.”

“rowan, you don’t have to continue if it’s only going to--”

“rossi, three people tore me apart. i’m still healing, the wounds are there, and they’re deep and jagged. and i promised myself that i would never let anyone in since that night, and here i am, passively watching as it happens. i let him in, and it was so beautiful and exhilarating. i wish it would have lasted forever but it didn’t. he was gone before i opened my eyes,” sobs racked rowan’s body as her knees buckled, crumpling to the pavement.

a single tear trickled down david rossi’s cheek, his heart nearly splitting into two, “oh rowan, i am so sorry. i am so fucking sorry. you can’t blame yourself for any of it. what happened in columbus was not your fault, rowan.”

“t-thank you,” she wiped her tears, her cheeks flushed, ���i’m sorry for breaking down.”

“you don’t have to apologize for that either kiddo,” rossi extended a hand, guiding her to her feet, “you’re human. it’s okay.”

“have you talked to hotch at all today?” 

“not yet,” the agent shook his head, “however, i have some unfinished business to tend to.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the rain was relentless, falling in sheets as aaron hotchner navigated through the wilderness, droplets streaming down his brow onto his cheeks, blurring his vision. david rossi was not far behind, merely a few feet away. 

after garcia scoured every nook and cranny of the unsub’s personal laptop, she managed to extract essential information regarding his whereabouts. the team had split up into several groups, partnering up with one another to fan out, hoping to close in on an abandoned cabin, deep in the woods of forks. 

with every step, aaron hotchner’s bones seared, desperate for relief. he was exhausted, the lack of sleep no help whatsoever. yet, it was only a matter of hours now before he was back home, all warm and dry, relaxing on the couch with jack, watching his favorite movie.  

only a couple more hours and he would be home. 

“all right dumbass,” hotch’s head whipped around at the harsh tone laced in rossi’s words, “i have some choice words for you.”

“excuse me?”

the agent stopped in his tracks, folding his arms across his chest, “you two had sex, didn’t you?”

“w-what?” hotch sputtered, shock plastered across his features, “rossi, what are you talking about?”

there was a beat of silence before rossi resumed, “you broke down your walls and decided to be intimate with her but then the second the run rose, you were out of the bed, as distant and cold as possible. i know how that shit works, aaron. it’s not a pleasant feeling to wake up and not have the person there.” 

aaron hotchner almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “rossi, come on we have a case-” 

“why would you say all that shit to her, hotch? we all know that you have feelings for her ah-,” rossi held up a hand, challenging aaron to butt in, “don’t interrupt me. it’s okay to have feelings but you know what’s not okay? hurting her because you’re scared. you don’t have to explain your feelings to me but please explain them to her. we all know she doesn’t deserve this at all, hotch. and you of all people should know that.”

“we’re working on a case and the only thing on your mind right now is scolding me for--”

“don’t change the fucking subject, aaron. you need to get yourself together, if not for yourself then for her,” his fury bubbled up as he spoke, the mocha depths blazing an obsidian hue. 

“rossi, you know what that divorce did to me--” hotch stammered, scrambling for formulate some sort of response. some sort of deflection so that the discussion would cease. 

“but look at what you’re doing to her.”

“but rossi i--” hotch was on the verge of retaliation, but rossi pointed a finger at him, jabbing it into his arm, so forceful that aaron nearly yelped. 

“no, aaron. this is for you to explain to her. not to me.” 

*****

rowan rivers hovered over her desk, collecting some final papers, gathering them in a neat pile as members of the team filed into the elevator, silence consuming the behavioral analysis unit of quantico, virginia. everyone was beyond worn, their muscles sore, tense from the washington atmosphere, their minds weary from the heavy burdens of the job. 

however, there was a far heavier burden weighing on rowan’s mind. 

the click of shoes meeting tile caught rowan’s attention, a familiar pair of slacks appearing in her peripheral vision.

“you’re right rowan.”

aaron hotchner stood before her, his coat draped over an arm, bag slung across his shoulder. even in the light, rowan couldn’t help but notice the faint purple rings forming underneath his eyes, the thick lashes almost hiding them. the wrinkles lining his forehead and eyes were more prominent, deepened by hardships and loss. inky black hair that was gelled over only hours before was unkempt, strands of hair falling into his forehead. 

rowan wanted nothing more to throw her arms around him, holding him close for an embrace. 

but, she felt as if she couldn’t. not after what he did. 

the agent met his gaze, her lips pursed with confusion, “aaron, what are you talking about?”

he shifted, swaying from side to side, fumbling with his hands, “you’re right about me. i’m afraid. i’m afraid of falling for you and not being able to control it. i hate not being in control ro, but god do i lose control every single second i’m around you.”

“aaron we don’t have to--”

he shook his head, lower lip trembling, “no i want to talk about this, ro. you told me to pick a side and i pick you.”

it was almost as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders. there was no more confusion, no more unrest. no more tears to be shed pondering over the “what ifs.” he was fessing up, finally answering the queries that kept her up late at night, losing hours of sleep. 

he didn’t hate her. 

he was falling in love with her. 

tears welled up in his eyes, tinging them red as he choked down sobs, burying his face in his hands. carefully, rowan’s hands enveloped his wrists, bringing them away from his face, “i’m just as afraid, aaron. but it’s okay. we’re in this together, just two people falling for one another.”

 the second rowan’s hand cupped his cheeks, cradling his face in her hands, aaron melted, collapsing completely, “rossi confronted me about it all. he said i needed to get my shit together because it was hurting you. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i can be a little bit dense sometimes and a bit of an asshole.”

“a bit dense and a bit of an asshole?” rowan teased, the pad of her thumb wiping away a tear, “that sounds a little bit like you, aaron.”

“come home with me tonight. no hiding feelings. no intoxication. i just want you in my arms,” aaron murmured, his mouth nearly inches away from hers.

his heart skipped a beat as the corners of her lips curled into a bright, radiant grin, her head bobbing, “i’d like that. i’d like that very much.”

within hours, she was clinging to his frame, her head nuzzled against the fabric of his tee, light snores echoing through the room. his hands were threaded into her hair, subconsciously playing with the silky brunette locks as he glanced through paperwork, careful not to disturb her one bit.

his phone vibrated against the wood of the nightstand, piquing his interest. the caller i.d. was all too familiar. 

“hotchner.”

“hey hotch it’s jj, i know that we all just made it home, barely settling in for the night but we were just invited on a case. from the sound of it, it’s quite urgent. the governor wants us to fly out there as soon as possible,” the blonde’s voice crackled on the speaker. 

“and where’s this case?” a hand gravitated to rowan’s, lacing their fingers together as she stirred, bleary from sleep. 

“columbus. columbus, ohio.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 

tagged: @sapphicstars​ @colorlessfl0wers​ @inlovewithaaronhotchner​ @lovebodymindstuff​ 

#aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #thomas gibson #criminal minds fic #hotch x oc #bau #hotch fluff

[chilling-seavey]

Heartbreak Hotel (d.s.) - Chapter Twenty

A/N The song for this heavy chapter is One Night by Elvis ✨ This would have been the last song he played at Daniel and Loretta’s concert so it sets the scene for this chapter so well! A live version is here if you’re interested to get an idea of what their show might have been like (however this one is from ‘68 which is 10 years later than this novel but you get the concept-)

It was raining by the time the concert came to an end. Daniel was thankful he remembered to put the roof of his car up before they went inside otherwise the leather would be flooded for sure. He took off his jacket and held it over Loretta’s head for her before they stepped outside so her hair didn’t get wet in the downpour. She took it from him with a loud ‘thank you!’ over the noise of the storm and they ran across the dark parking lot together; screaming and laughing through the heavy rain.

Daniel opened the car door for her and helped her in through their laughter, both still buzzing from the concert that had just concluded. He rushed around the other side and jumped in to get out of the rain even if he was already nearly drenched through.

Loretta was beaming, completely buzzing from the incredible show and her great company, and she tossed his jacket into the backseat to keep the wet fabric off of her. Daniel was laughing at nothing along with her, breathlessly pushing his wet hair back from his face; the hair gel he had feverously applied virtually useless by that point.

“That was so much fun!” Loretta giggled, smoothing her dress down as she got comfortable in the passenger seat.

“Anna’s gonna love me for getting her that signature.” Daniel added, carefully taking out the notebook paper from his pocket and set it gently on the dashboard for safe keeping on their drive home.

“He is the sweetest guy ever! I can’t believe we got to talk to him!” Loretta gushed, holding her cheeks in her hands to keep from blushing. “This is the best day of my whole life!”

Daniel only smiled over at her, the sound of the heavy rain hitting the roof of the car filling the space and he turned the key in the ignition, “Me too.”

“The last song was so good!”

“Because of how he dances when he performs?” Daniel teased as he pulled out of the parking space and towards the main road.

Loretta gasped, flushing red, and smacked his arm, “No! My gosh! Mother says all that is absolutely vulgar. Although I’d never admit that I actually peeked once or twice.”

Daniel burst out laughing.

“Do not tell my parents.” Loretta grabbed onto his shirt sleeve in near desperation through her light, embarrassed laughter.

“You sure you don’t want me to tell them that their daughter’s innocence has been compromised?” Daniel retorted coolly, shooting her a smile and she shrieked through her laughter with her bursting energy, still clinging onto his sleeve.

“I can’t thank you enough, Daniel!” Loretta beamed at him from the other side of the car. “All my dreams have nearly come true tonight! Golly, I could honestly just-”

She faded out almost too quickly, dropping her gaze to her lap and her hands clutched her small purse almost anxiously. He frowned momentarily at her sudden drop in mood; glancing over at her as she turned blankly out the window of the car to watch the rain fall heavily down the glass.

“Lori…are you okay?” Daniel asked softly, turning off the radio so only the sound of the rain filled the car.

She took a moment to word her response, “We’ve had so much fun and I don’t want to ruin our night with my nonsense.”

“No, that’s alright.” Daniel assured her quickly. “What’s going on?”

Loretta turned in her seat to face him a little, “You can keep a secret, right?”

“I like to think so.” Daniel spoke slowly. His heart was racing with anxiety as to what she could possibly want to say.

“You know Corbyn.”

Daniel tried his hardest not to physically wince at the mention of her boyfriend’s name, “Yes.”

“Well, I…” Loretta looked back down to her lap, her nervous fingers tracing the lacey pattern of her dress. “We started dating in high school just before he turned eighteen and we really fell for each other, you know? He told me on his birthday that I was his soulmate which was incredible because I loved…I love him. I really do and he…he doesn’t know that…I…”

Loretta sighed deeply, scrunching up the bottom of her dress in her hands nervously. The rain pattered loudly on the roof of the car and Daniel turned up the windshield wipers, gripping tighter onto the steering wheel, waiting for her to continue.

“I’m broken, Dani.”

Her voice was so soft that he could barely hear her over the heavy rain.

Daniel frowned for a moment to himself and then glanced at her before needing to turn back to the road, “Broken? How?”

“When I turned eighteen…I soon discovered that Corbyn...wasn’t my soulmate.” Loretta mumbled. “I asked him so many times but he was certain I was his and I just couldn’t break his heart over something so silly, so I just told him it was mutual and then we started gong steady. He has plans to marry me, Dani. He has plans to marry me because he thinks we’re each other’s soulmates but…I…I don’t know why I would be his but he’s not mine. It makes no sense.”

“So…” Daniel swallowed thickly. His mouth felt dry and he tugged at his shirt collar. “So can you not taste anything at all then?”

Loretta sniffled and didn’t answer for a moment. She blinked back nervous tears as she looked out her window into the rain again, clutching her small purse in her hands until her knuckles were turning white.

“Lori.” Daniel pried gently, slowing down the car to buy them more time as he turned onto her street.

“No…I can.” Loretta breathed.

“Just not Corbyn’s.”

“Just not Corbyn’s.” Loretta nodded.

“So who’s can you taste?” Daniel asked slowly.

Loretta took a shaky inhale and turned to him with tear-filled green eyes, “Yours.”

Daniel felt like the air completely left the car and he nearly took the curb as he pulled into her driveway and pressed the brake a little too hard before slowly sliding the car into park; too in shock to notice the dim pair of headlights parked down the street. He stared through the windshield – avoiding looking at her – for a moment, almost too scared to admit it to himself that this was honestly the moment he had been waiting for the last few months.

“Daniel.” Loretta breathed. “Please tell me you know it too.”

Daniel opened his mouth to reply but didn’t know what to say; there were so many things riding on his answer and Corbyn’s fist was a major player here. Daniel turned his head slowly to look at her, taking in her damp eyes that shimmered with tears in the muffled light of her front porch light that was leaking through the rain covered car windows.

“Yeah.” was all Daniel could reply with. “I’ve…I’ve known for weeks.”

Loretta let out a disbelieving exhale and turned her head away from him.

“I just didn’t say anything because I thought I was broken. You had Corbyn and I thought you two were…that you two were set already and…I didn’t want him to hate me more than he already does.”

“He has a temper.”

“I can tell.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, the tension soothed by the heavy rain pounding down on the roof of the car. In their quiet, they kept slipping closer towards each other unknowing until they turned to each other and they were only a few inches apart, nearly leaning over the centre console. Their eyes met. Daniel licked his lips habitually and then bit the bottom one slowly, not taking his eyes off her soft face, and Loretta couldn’t help but reach out a hand to the side of his neck. Her touch shot shivers right down his spine and they let themselves share nervous breathy chuckles as they could both feel – and finally admit to – the intense electricity between them.

They leaned in slowly at the same time, heads tilting slightly and ever so naturally, and Daniel struggled to catch his breath in the moment. Only centimetres away; they were startled apart by a loud knock at the passenger side window and they nearly flew back into their seats. Loretta looked out the window through the torrential downpour and the door was yanked open to reveal a displeased Corbyn.

“Get out. It’s late.” he ordered sternly, speaking loudly over the storm, and grabbed her arm to pull her out of the car.

She glanced back at Daniel as the rain flattened her soft curls over her forehead almost instantly, her light eyes shining through the night with so many emotions, but neither could even get any sort of goodbye out before Corbyn was glaring at Daniel and slamming the door behind his girlfriend.

Daniel was left in lonely silence; stunned into breathlessness.

#🍓 #why dont we #soulmate au #soulmate!wdw #daniel seavey #daniel seavey fanfic #wdw #why dont we fanfic #corbyn besson #1950s #why dont we music