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littlest-dark-age · 4 years ago

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Human nature takes over me

Tagging @noshame-bb @daddydamiano @mywritingonlyfans

!!!nsfw content!!! Please do not read if you do not wish to consume nsfw content. 18+

includes cream pie, body worship, dirty talk, slight bondage slight jealousy, mentions of alcohol, and if I missed anything please let me know.

Scopami - Fuck me

Mi stai facendo morire - You are killing me

Amo il tuo sapore - I love how you taste

Cazzo, sei così stretto, dolcezza - You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart

Viene per me - Come for me

Due to all the chaos that had been going on in Damiano's life, the two of you hadn't been able to see one another as often as both of you would like. Which led to the idea for you and the others to go to a small bar in the city, one vic swore by as her favorite and said that you would love it as well. She even helped you get ready whilst the boys were doing the same in the larger bathroom of the house.

Vic helped you pick out the rather sexy outfit, claiming that you had just the shoes for it and that they would complete your look. From your hair, to your stockings, you felt and looked hot. She claimed that your confidence is what sold the look, that it was the perfect finishing touch.

Soon enough, the five of you pile into the uber Ethan thoughtfully ordered. Knowing that none of you would want to drive later, nor would some of you be in the shape to. Squishing into the middle seat between Thomas and Damiano, your lover soon realizes that the two of you might be leaving the bar earlier than your counterparts. With distance, comes need. Damiano realizes how long it had been since the two of you were able to go at it as hard as you normally would when you were in his house in Rome, although it doesn't mean the two of you were shy about your affections.

You were simply not able to be as open as you usually were if you were alone, despite the fact that damiano walks around practically naked already. He wasn't able to have you spread open in the shared spaces, not wanting to risk anything too much. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time one of the others had walked in on you entangled one another in a less than savory place. But he still prefered to keep such accidents to a minimum.

Damiano is so lost in his thoughts, which were riddled with you, that he doesn't feel the car stop and it's only when you grip his arm does he realize that he zoned out the entire drive.

He shoots you a dazzling smile, shaking off your concern with a promise that he merely got caught up in his mind and that he wanted to be here tonight.

Holding your hand, the two of you walk into the small bar behind the others. He quickly presses a kiss to your temple before shuffling off to grab your drinks from the bartender, your usual order burned into his memory from the amount of times you've ordered it on dates.

You follow vic to the small table she managed to snag, looking around at the surprisingly full bar. Turns out, she's not the only one who really likes it. Damiano smiles at the sight of you two talking and laughing with one another before looking back at the bartender and paying for the drinks in front of him. He manages to grab them all and begins to walk back over to the table without spilling them, much more difficult than he thought would be due to the crowd.

He carefully sets the glasses down before sliding yours over in front of you and vic, bringing his to his mouth for a sip as he focuses on the conversation going between your and her. Shuffling closer to you, he wraps an arm around your waist with a quick squeeze before pressing a kiss to your cheek. Looking around the bar for Ethan or Thomas, trying to make sure they don't get into too much trouble, he's too busy to see the large man stumble over to you. Reeking of a strong alcohol, the man sends you a grin.

"Hey precious, wanna get out of here?" You can hardly make out his words due to the way they slur and run together, your nose wrinkling at the thought of going home with someone other than your lover, much less a man who can barely keep himself up on his own two feet.

He leans even closer, letting the smell of his drink grow even stronger as he attempts to wink at you. In his mind, you're sure, an awfully seductive thing. But it comes out as more of a halfway blink, slowed by his dulled senses. His eyes lock onto your chest, licking his lips not so subtly.

"No thank you, please leave our table." You try to be as polite as you can, worried what the wrong words could possibly lead to.

It seems Damiano has gotten so caught up in looking for Ethan or Thomas that he drifted away from the table, now standing however many feet away. Far enough to not be able to smell the stench of the drunkard in front of you, and certainly far enough so that the only thing he hears is the music bursting through the bar and not your words. He looks at you, a bit of heart break gleaming in his eyes as he watches what he thinks is flirting. Noticing your glass still untouched, knowing you were stone cold sober and that you wouldn't be able to blame the drinks for the 'flirting'.

Swiftly, he shuffles over towards you and misses the look of relief you shoot him in favor of staring down the large man that had since placed his sweaty hand on your own. His face hardens when he notices the affection.

"What's going on here, amore?" Trying to keep his words sweet, yet they still come laced with a venom not unknown to you.

"He was just leaving." You snatch your hand out from under the strangers, scooting closer to damiano to put as much space between the two of you. Eyes flickering between the two men, briefly wondering how far the drunkard would be willing to push your lover.

The stranger rolls his eyes, mumbling something about you being a bitch under his breath before stumbling off to find the next willing participant for the night. A wave of disgust rolls over you, forcing a shiver from you at the thought of going home with him.

Damiano looks at you, still assuming that there was something more going on with the two of you than was. Not exactly knowing how to approach the subject.

Has he been gone too long? Had your flame finally weathered to a mere ember without his notice? Sure, touring and everything is hard on the two of you but he thought the two of you were better than that. He would have brought you with him if it had been allowed, really. Were you so done with him that you would flirt with someone mere feet away from him, not bothering by the fact that if he was to just turn around, he would spot you?

You can see the thoughts swirl around in his mind, quickly sending a text to vic that the two of you were leaving. Using a piss poor excuse of not feeling well and wanting damiano to take care of you, as he typically did whenever you truly were sick.

"Let's go home damia, yes?" Slowly you tug him towards the exit of the bar, spotting Thomas and giving him a small wave as you grip Damiano's hand and tug him out of the doors. His body seems to be on autopilot as he zones out for what feels like the hundredth time of the night, not noticing the time it takes for the uber to arrive nor the time passing as you ride in the backseat. Your thumb stroking along his knuckles, running down his tattoo and rings as well.

Damiano only comes out of his trance when he hears you unlocking the door, still letting you lead him as you take him up the stairs and into your shared bedroom. Did you bring him home just so you could break up with him? Did you know the way he would bawl and grovel, just to keep the love of his life in his world?

You disappear into the adjacent bathroom, he can hear your jewelry hitting the large marble counter and your shoes hitting the cabinets when you take them off. A few moments later, you come out of the bathroom. Fresh faced and wearing a shirt he's sure is his own, a cloth in your hand to wipe away his own makeup the same you did to yours. Evidence on the underside of the cloth.

Walking over to him, you give him a sweet smile before sitting on his lap as your free hand cradles his face whilst the other busies itself with wiping away the dark makeup surrounding his eyes. Soon, you finish cleaning his face and chunk the cloth onto the bedside table before starting to unbutton the simple shirt he chose tonight. Slowly revealing inch after inch of his tanned skin and his tattoos, which you always remind him you adore.

Damiano shuts his eyes as he feels your soft lips on his neck, relishing in the way you seem to mould yourself into him. Always slotting perfectly in his arms, never feeling like you don't belong in them. His brain, on the other hand, seems to not want to shut off. Not being able to get the image out of his head of that man touching you.

"Amore, amore, hold on." It pains him the way you look at him as if your touch has burned him. Your brows furrowed with wonder, worried you might be pushing yourself onto him when he just wanted a nice night in bed with you. But he has to know. If he doesn't find the answer, it might drive him mad

"Were…...were you…...flirting with the man at the bar? Before I came over? Have I done something, dolcezza?"

It takes you a second to realize what Damiano is asking, almost as if you don't even want to think about the meaning of his words.

"No, no. He was drunk and wanting to take me home, and I didn't want to make a huge scene. Baby no, I turned him down. You're the only person I could ever want." By the look on Damiano's face, you can still see a seedling of doubt lingering. An idea pops into your head and brings a grin to your face as you look into his honey eyes, seeing nothing but love and want in them.

"Can I show you how much I want you?" Comes as a soft whisper, breathed on to his own lips before you pull him into a deep kiss. The kind he's been yearning for the moment he heard of the plans to go out tonight, feeling your hand slide down his chest and rest above his XXX tattoo which is currently hidden by his pants.

You feel him nod into the kiss and giggle as he chases after your lips when you pull away in favor of kissing his neck once again. Nipping at the sensitive skin, as well as rubbing your hands up and down his chest before going up to his shoulders and pushing the unbuttoned shirt off of his lean body.

"I need to go grab something, can you handle taking your pants off without touching yourself?" You ask, watching as his eyes slowly open half way before giving you a soft nod.

Jumping out of his lap and going into the closet in hunt for whatever, Damiano starts to unzip his pants and kicks off his shoes. Walking around the side of the bed, he peaks into the closet just in time for you to find your mystery item. Instantly recognizing the red fabric, one of the scarfs they sell with the månedkin logo printed onto it. Sitting down onto the plush bed, still watching as you walk out of the closet and crawl on top of him.

Reaching for his hands, you quickly tie his wrists together and make sure they're not too tight before pushing him onto his back and moving his hands above his head.

"Now. I'm going to do whatever the hell I want so I can show you how much I want you. No, actually. How much I need you." You start to press kisses onto his neck, before going down onto his inked collarbone and tracing the letters with your nail as you go along.

You feel the vibrations from his whines roll through his chest, where your soft lips meet dark inked skin. His whines draw a smile from you, knowing the effect you had on him. Damiano's mind races, wondering what your next move will be. In all fairness, this wasn't how he expected the night to go so why should he be able to expect what happens to him next.

Slowly, you kiss down his chest, leaving a trail of sweet and teasing kisses as you go. Stopping when you reach his pierced nipple, looking up into his deep brown eyes as your teeth barely graze the sensitive skin. Damiano exhales a shaky breath as you tug on the bar, his cock already aching with need as you softly grind on him from your spot in his lap. Not enough to give either of you any real friction, but just enough so that he could feel your slick through his soft boxers.

The thin material doing so little yet so much to keep him from where he wanted most, a wet patch growing from both of you as it started to stick to him. Damiano shuts his eyes and tosses his head back into the pillow which smells like you, not helping how hard his cock is straining against your.

"Scopami, Mi stai facendo morire." Comes out as a groan, his eyebrows pinched together with a pretty look of need.

"Baby, I'm busy here. Can't you tell? Gotta show my pretty boy how much he means to me, you're never going to forget it again. Gonna mark you up too, let everybody know that I'm yours and you're mine." Purred into his chest, where you finally pull away from his nipple to sit up and look at the mess you've made out of your lover.

Red marks litter his chest, evidence of where you nipped at the tattoo that spreads across his collar bones. Hands tied together above his head with a måneskin scarf, dark hair a mess from where he has been gripping at it and tossing his head back. Damiano's chest rises with each heavy breath you steal from him, entire body on display except the one area he desperately wants freed from its cloth confinements.

"I promise, I know I'm yours. Just wanna be in you, I'll be good. Just, please cucciolo…" The words die off into more whimpers, his Adam's apple bobbing with the swallow he does. Unable to control himself, he feels his hips start to buck up into you. Wanting, needing more friction soon otherwise he thinks he might cry, not that it hasn't happened from your passion filled nights before and it certainly wouldn't be the last time he loses himself to you so much that all he can do is cry out your name and let the tears run down his face.

"Well, since you asked me so nicely,…" You completely pull away from his lean body, laughing softly at the pout which quickly forms on his face. ",lift your hips for me baby, gonna get these off of you." Gesturing to the stained material.

Damiano does as you ask, helping you peel off the sticky fabric before spreading his legs slightly. Giving you a full view of his weeping tip, now resting against his stomach and smearing pre-cum all over the soft skin. Red tip matching the shade of flush covering his cheeks.

Leaning down, you lick up the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue before rolling it around his head. You see his grip on his own hair tighten, veins popping in his hands and arms.

"Amo il tuo sapore." Kissed into the skin of his belly with a grin, not giving the dark eyed man anything substantial yet.

You sit back and slowly take off the oversized shirt that the two of you would share sometimes, finally revealing your form to Damiano, teasing him with your pace as you have been all night. Shuffling towards him, you straddle his hips before pressing a sweet and soft kiss to his soft lips. Slowly pouring every ounce of love and devotion into the small action, then taking his aching cock and lining it up with your cunt before sinking onto it.

"Cazzo, sei così stretto, dolcezza." Damiano groans out, unable to believe how well you take him every time and how it feels like you were made for this. Like the two of you were crafted together and meant to be as one, always feeling whole when he's in your embrace.

He can feel himself already dangerously close to the edge, every shift of your hips threatening to shove him off of it. As you start to bounce, he can feel the coil in his belly twisting tighter and tighter with every movement you make. His cheeks flush even more, embarrassed that he isn't going to last very long but not really being able to do anything to stop.

"It's okay baby, you can cum. I got you," your movements only slow a bit, focusing on him for the moment like you promised earlier ",cum in me baby."

Your words push him off of the edge, pulling loud and breathy moans from him as he cums in your cunt, shooting ropes of warmth into you. Gently rocking your hips to work him through his orgasm, giving him a moment to adjust to the new sensitivity. Slowly you start to bounce again, making him shoot you a confused look before drawing even more moans from his throat.

"Oh honey, you didn't think I was gonna stop, did you? That's cute…" You grin down at him, your hands cupping your tits as they bounce with your movements.

Damiano's eyes start to tear up, slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure and the pain that interwove itself in it. Your cunt still milking him for everything he's worth while shooting sensitivity with every motion of your body. He knows the two of you will be sticky and sweaty by the end of the night, sheets will need to be changed but at the moment he can't seem to care. Too focused on the feeling of your walls sucking him back in and the damn near scorching heat you're radiating. But he can't stop himself from wanting more, more of the pain and sensitivity and the heat. More of you and the way you wrap around him is so divine.

One of your hands snakes down to where you and damiano connect, starting to rub fast circles on your clit as his eyes glue to the action. Watching like this would be the last time he would ever be able to see such beauty. Watching your face twist in pleasure and he can feel you clench even harder around his cock.

The all too familiar coil springs back to life in the pit of his stomach, your expressions quickly tightening it as well as the sounds you're making.

"Viene per me, cucciolo. Wanna do it with you." He isn't sure if you're able to put together his slightly slurred words, before seeing you quickly nod your head and pick up the pace.

Skin on skin and moans echo throughout the room, too caught up in one another to care who might hear. Your other hand leaves your chest in favor to support yourself, speeding your hips even more with the extra balance found on damiano's own chest.

Your moans grow in volume the closer you get to the edge, unable to hold back the sounds your lover seems to always get out of you.

Damiano feels the coil burst once more, thrusting his hips up into you, sending you hurdling over the edge yourself. Stilling your movements, you peek open your eyes to look down at him, a soft grin spreading across your face as you feel him cum in you again. Creamy white starting to leak out and down his shaft, but neither of you seem to mind as you lean down to press your cheek against his flushed chest.

"Now, do you believe me when I say that I only want you?" You peer up at him from your relaxed position.

He nods, before pulling his hands through the loose knot in the scarf and pressing a kiss to your sweat slicked forehead.

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bnhamixjuice-sfw · 4 years ago

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ANON REQUEST: Hawks, Dabi and Aizawa: spot an ex he had a bad break up with, he sees her walking around struggling to hold on to a bag of groceries while pushing a stroller with a toddler in it that looks awful lot like them, and the he awkwardly confronts them when the bag falls out of her hands.

Tags: Manga Spoiler, Mention of cheating, Angst to Fluff.

Hawks

“I’m so sorry Dove, I didn’t mean to–”

“Didn’t mean what? to deny that I’m your girlfriend in front of the media ‘cause you had a job agreement with the commission not to reveal me! okay Keigo you’re doing this for what reason exactly? Hero Reputation? More women you can use to cheat behind my back again and expect me to forgive you? I–I don’t want this kind of life anymore!”, you wailed in pure anguish roughly wriggling your wrist away from his firm clutch.

He felt suffocated when he needed to let you go for all the things that he did to hurt you, holding back the urge to chase you outside when you frantically closed the door, not looking back anymore on him. Leaving the top pro hero falling on his knees, lonely between these four walls of his house.

After all this time he can’t forget you, longing to see your face everywhere he goes even on pro hero awarding events or his usual patrol work with Endeavor looking for you through the crowds, praying to see your smile again that he misses the most.

His life was crumbling apart without you, but luck was on his side today when he spotted you not too far from where he was signing autographs for his fans while stealing some glances. As always, you’re still beautiful standing there.

Trying to fix your grocery bags while clasping the baby-carriage’s handle. He hesitated at first to approach you thinking you’re probably waiting for your husband to pick you up and your child. And that’s when a tuft of yellow hair popped out.

“Mommy look it’s Hawks, Awtoglaph pweasee awtoglapph”, his excited pleas reached Hawks’ ears. pointing his fingers towards your ex-boyfriend who waved a hand on both of you.

Soon red feathers clumped together on the ground, preventing your bag to fall.

“Wow what do we have here, a kid full of energy today, so where do you want me to sign your autograph?”, stooping down beaming a smile with his eyes crinkling behind his yellow visor making your child gasp in awe.

He knew instantly that his suspicion was right seemingly looking at his own reflection with those golden honey orbs and black lines on those eyelids and small bump protruding behind the kid’s shirt, red feathers similar to his, messily cramped inside.

“Ke–Hawks here… ”, almost calling out his first name when you handed him a notebook and a pen.

Slightly feeling his gloved hand against your palm.

“Hawks look I hab wings too–”

“Honey we need to go home now or else you’ll miss your favorite show again, now say bye bye to Mr. Hawks”, you interrupted, sneaking a warning glare on him not to tell him anything before gently freeing your child’s wings out from his shirt’s makeshift holes.

“Little fledgling I guess your wings were moulting, so did your Daddy tell you about it”

“Hab no Dawdy but Oh you see… Mommy Lov’ Dawdy so much that she booboo cries” you were shock-stricken softly hushing your child out of embarassment.

“Well kid make sure to tell your Mommy not to cry okay cause Daddy loves her so much, yes don’t forget to tell that to her every day I–”, he stammered with his voice started cracking, overwhelming him with emotions too easily, swallowing the lump forming on his throat.

“Your father loves you too kid trust me, and surely there’s not a single day he’s not thinking of your Mommy, his only Dove–Ah I think I’m taking too much of your time Miss I-I’m so sorry”, halting it immediately, muffling a few sniffles before finally signing his signature.

Your heart began thumping so loud, not expecting him shamelessly grabbing your hand, burying you into a warm embrace in public.

“Wait Keigo stop this, everyone’s taking so many pictures of you”

“No I don’t care anymore, listen Dove I’m so sorry and I still love you, come back to me please I promise I won’t hurt you again, I’ll do better this time just let me make up for it, and for our son”

You can’t blame yourself for giving in, accepting him wholeheartedly knowing this is what you promised to him once.

To never let your future child experience the same heartache he suffered from his past.

Dabi

He regret those cruel words that came out from his mouth the first time he was too fed up of your constant admonishment of putting a rest on his revenge against his family forever since you cannot bear to see him exhausting his body anymore, starting this heated discourse again between you.

“You always bring this up y/n every single day and it’s too annoying already, why are you siding on Enji too much Babydoll… come on just say it you really want us to have a perfect family, so cool to have a child with this debilitating quirk too right?”

Sucking your inner lips anxiously avoiding to tell him something about that last one, you felt his grip on your sholders constricting furiously waiting for you to answer him back, but your tears spilling from those precious eyes made his stomach churn in guilt realizing what he had done when you began screaming on his face that everything’s over, shoving him away and locking the door of your house shut.

He knew how much of a dick he was, the worst break up that’s been haunting him everyday with your terrified face forever etched on his mind

It’s been a long time since the last time he saw you after you moved from your old house and he cannot find you everywhere until today.

He saw you pushing a stroller on the side of the road and having a hard time balancing the bag of groceries on your other hand.

Perhaps you found someone better than him and additionally having a child; a normal child considering he’s not the father. that’s what he thought until something caught his attention.

Squinting his eyes, he was slack-jawed to find a familiar cerulean orbs and red hair on that young boy giddily calling you Mommy.

He took this rare chance of talking to you again by catching your bag of groceries that you clumsily dropped, your eyes met recognizing your ex-boyfriend instantly when he removed his mask. piercing eyes gazing down below observing your child’s similar features.

“Babydoll why didn’t you tell me about him, our son?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Dabi and refrain from calling me that nickname anymore, also stay away from MY son before I call the police”

You breathed heavily snatching back your grocery bag from his grasp, clutching the stroller’s handle in pure anger.

“Daddy you meanie, go home”, tugging his pants with those tiny hands.

It hurts you to see your own child begging for his father to go home, when you can’t even tell him how you often show his own picture to your child that’s why he recognized his own father easily, keeping him close to his heart and memory forever.

You can’t hate your only child’s father.

He was expecting him to cry on his intimidating face when he bent his knees down to look at his child closely, ignoring your earlier threat by patting his son’s head seemingly accepting this foreign fatherly instinct.

“Kid look I’m obviously a bad guy, I don’t want you to get in trouble so maybe next time when your Mommy allows me, don’t worry I’ll probably see you again next time pepperoni haired kid”, chuckling when he saw his son’s childish pout, letting him pinch his stapled cheeks annoyed at his nickname.

“Y/n this is goodbye then”, flashing you that thin smile noticing his lips quivering a bit as he stood.

Shoving both of his hands inside his pockets before turning around to walk slowly away from both of you ignoring your child’s tantrum cries calling for him to go back.

“Ssh… sweetie don’t cry okay–Wait Touya!”

He stopped on his tracks when you yelled his real name again, like how you used to call him that before out of endearment.

“We’re going to stay here from now on so same address, the usual okay knock thrice and use our anniversary day on pressing the doorbell and don’t forget our password, listen I’m doing this for our child only so you better show up tonight or I won’t ever give you a chance”

He disappeared quickly after that, and tonight he never failed to show up incessantly ringing the doorbell many times even greeting you that typical password; a kiss.

A yearning kiss, hands intertwining the moment you opened your heart once again.

Aizawa

“Shouta you keep missing my calls these past few weeks when I needed you the most, you barely have enough time to visit me when I was sick the whole week and now you’re late, fine I don’t wanna hear your excuses anymore”

Those bitter words pierced him like thorns, seeing you slip out that engagement ring from your finger and placing it on a table whispering those bitter words he doesn’t want to hear from you.

“It’s better if we end this relationship now before we regret something, I–I can’t imagine my future being married with you or even having a child with you who pathetically seek for time and attention from his workaholic father, sorry Shouta”, you covered your mouth trying to bite back your tongue from spilling about your unborn child.

Running outside the restaurant leaving him heartbroken that he can’t further speak out his words anymore because everything that you just told him was painfully true.

He doesn’t deserve you, blaming himself for not appreciating you enough despite of your effort of enduring the hardships of having a pro hero fiance who often risk his life for his students. A man who can’t even spend a time to take care of you.

Nevertheless, he wanted to mend back those strings that binds you to his heart, always pouring out his loneliness on visiting that Cat Cafe on his day off every week reminding him of memories you two share.

You often take him there to spend a date knowing he’s fond of cats and snapping lots of photos of him every time he ends up sleeping on the corner with cats huddling close to his face nearly suffocating him.

Keeping your engagement ring to him all the time was the only thing that calms him down whenever he’s in dire situation on his job, thinking how much he wish to meet you here again.

Unbelievably seeing you again one time, rubbing his weary eyes once and twice to know if it’s truly you. Indeed, he can’t forget that familiar caring smile of his beloved, finding you outside the cat cafe currently having a problem of organizing your bag of groceries.

“Mawmmy, neko pweasee I wanna touch it!”, your daughter began whinning clapping his hands to get your attention.

He can’t believe his own eyes when your child resembles him too much with that obsidian dull eyes and sleek black hair minus for that pigtail hairstyle but that scowl seems a carbon copy of his own.

“Wait Baby I–”

“I think you need help Y/n”

You were flabbergasted to find your ex-fiance taking a hold of your bag of groceries with his whip that was about to hit the ground and voluntarily offering his Neko tote bag for you which you persuaded him not to.

“Mawmmy pwease I want that too, Neko”, her tiny hands reaching out determined to get it no matter what.

“Baby no–”

“Well your daughter love cats so much, you can give this to her, please just a friendly gift”, taking out something from his pocket leaning down a bit to his side to rummage on that keychain, letting you see his necklace around his neck with that old engagement ring of yours dangling.

“Found it, here kid I’m not sure if you’ll like this”

“Aww Mawmmy have that too um…right Mawmmy, so no thanks Mister”

There’s no way you were married that’s what Shouta suspected when he saw you not wearing any ring, and obviously that cat keychain was closely similar to his anniversary keychain that you two bought for each other.

“Y/n I can drive you two back to your house if its okay–”

“Mawmmy please say yes”

You sighed in defeat not having a choice in the first place and also giving freedom to your child to spend time with her father who doesn’t know about this.

His car was still the same, sitting beside him and your child now sleeping behind after getting so tired ogling on his car’s cat accesories.

You chuckled upon seeing your daughter’s face on the mirror messily drooling, leaning slightly on your side to wipe the corner of her mouth.

“Darling is she our daughter”

“Eyes on the road Shouta, and yes so what will you do about it. Do you expect me to ask for any financial support from you oh maybe spending your precious time for our daughter that I can’t even get from you years ago”, you sarcastically uttered, stabbing him rudely with those truthful words he was unprepared to hear from you.

“I understand if you’re still mad at me y/n, but I just want you to let you know that I want to set things right first before asking you to forgive me. Because I don’t want to miss this opportunity again to tell you how much I wanted to talk to you or maybe to see you in your white wedding dress”

You can’t resist how determined he was to get close to you again, feeling his hand slowly making its way on you.

Giving back that engagement ring to whom it truly belongs, and that was you, a dream he wanted to come true despite it being too impossible.

Turning your head away to wipe your own tears, proposing for the second time that you have been waiting to hear from him all along.

“She’s your daughter Shouta and don’t you dare make her cry of I’ll scratch your face harder than what your cat does”

“That’s too kind of you, I mean my cat misses your deadly belly rub too, you named him Mr. Pickles right, well I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see his Mom again and his new sibling soon”,

You both exchanged soft giggling catching up on one another by starting the conversation about your lives and so on and so forth, and apparently your child was eavesdropping on both of you.

Your daughter muffled a “Pro hero mission success” after accomplishing her goal, peeking a bit to see you wearing that shiny ring.

She knew it the first time she saw that stranger recognizing him from one of the picture you often place under your pillow, her daddy.

Well she did inherit Shouta’s intellectual skills after all.

Do not repost this fic/headcanon.

Disclaimer: I don't own My hero academia nor its characters and plot.

#hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #dabi x reader #shouta x y/n #shouta x reader #shouta x you #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #Reposted my old fic/hc here cause I forgot to remove keep reading before deactivating

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silkylious · 4 years ago

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“I love you. Truly, deeply, eternally.” (Lucifer x Reader)

fandom: obey me! shall we date?

pairing: lucifer x gn reader

warnings: angst, fluff (mildly lol), suggestive (nothing explicit though!), bittersweet, ambiguous ending (??), unedited

wc: 2.1k

“Lucifer?” you called out to him on a whim, eyes trailing the seconds ticking away on his grandfather-clock.

“Yes?” he didn’t spare you a glance as he worked methodically through his second hill of paperwork; a heaping stack of duties assigned to him by Diavolo, endless bills–a consequence of Mammon’s latest spending spree, you ought to talk to him about those soon–and the sort piled neatly on his pristine desk, slowly but surely decreasing in size as Lucifer burned through the tedious task with unwavering efficiency. You felt exhausted just watching him work. Lucifer? He hadn’t so much as blinked more than three times in the past five minutes (yes, you counted). Obsidian sleeves rolled up just past his elbows, hair perfectly framing his face with one strand slightly out of place–hot–and a gentle crease between his brows (the only observable hint alluding to the mounting stress on his shoulders). He looked positively delectable, nothing like someone who’s been working diligently for hours without any breaks. But that just served as a testament to the fundamental difference between the two of you, you supposed.

“I’m in love with you,”

That made his meticulous fingers pause in their tracks.

“Pardon?”

As it turned out, his ears hadn’t, in fact, deceived him. You repeated the confession as if it weighed nothing on your tongue. You were strangely calm given the words you’d just blurted out; he almost didn’t recognize you. An unfamiliar shade of desperation painted all over your face, and yet your voice bared to him a serene conviction, one he’d never heard from you before. Lucifer’s heartbeat stumbled in your wake.

Basking in your courageous display just a second longer, he sighed. Too bad he’d have to mutilate such a pretty sight so soon.

That didn’t go exactly as he’d planned. The harsh rejection barely deterred you, leaving only a petulant pout on your lips and a promise that you’d come talk to him later.

Lucifer was anything but stupid. He knew that he let things stray too far between you, knew it was his fault for not pulling away from your kisses and instead indulging you (and himself) to the fullest. His fault for ignoring the guilt that settled deep in his gut like hunks of steel when you looked at him like he’d never experienced before. Lucifer had lived for many millennia, had relished the warmth of countless passionate lovers and faceless hookups, none of which had ever set him alight from the inside out like your adoring gaze had. It terrified him how after all these years, watching humans thrive and collapse over and over again, he thought he’d seen everything there is to see, all that humans had to offer. And then you come along, reinventing what love meant right before his eyes, with a simple look no less.

He never intended for you to fall in love with him, and he never intended to reciprocate. Had he been mortal, maybe things wouldn’t be so complicated. But life dealt a cruel hand, and he wasn’t. A relationship like yours was doomed to crumble in heartache from the start, it was best to stop it before things went too far. That was the plan anyway.

You didn’t share the same sentiment.

With one last exasperated sigh, Lucifer focused his attention back on his duties. He didn’t know how long he could hold up against your persistence, and honestly he preferred not to dwell on it. Whatever outcome lied for the both of you in the near future, itching one step closer with each tick on the clock, he’d face it head on when it was time.

Meanwhile, you laid wide awake, in your bed, rethinking every decision that led you here. You didn’t regret your confession, nor were you keen on giving up, but Lucifer’s ruthless rejection, his vehement claim that a relationship between a human and a demon is destined to end in tragedy festered a bud of doubt in you. You noted pettily that he hadn’t outright denied any feelings for you. How could he? Lucifer was many, ugly things but a liar’s not one of them; you wouldn’t believe him even if he did lie, not with how delicately he holds your hand in his gloved one, not with how heartbreakingly beautiful he was when he lets you in at his lowest, stripped completely of his pride.

You knew though, that as much as Lucifer was a creature of the past, he was a creature of regrets.

Somehow, you’d managed to reach the heart of the Avatar of Pride himself, bestowing a porcelain touch on it and subsequently rocking the monotony of his endless life. Despite the acknowledgment of both your feelings, you weren’t naïve enough to dismiss how his heart drums thousands of years apart from yours and would continue to do so long after yours gave its last valiant pump.

He was a creature of the past you realized; humans intently watch minutes, hours, years approach because there’s only so much of them live out, there’s only so much to do in a lifetime. Naturally it would be counterintuitive to waste scarce time on the past. The immortal have no such concern. When time is limitless, and life is all but a blur of recycled events, its only instinctive to lose interest in what’s to come. And you guessed, maybe there was a strange comfort in the predictability of eternity, maybe that’s why Lucifer was so offput by the notion of something serious yet temporary, especially romance.

You decided. You wouldn’t let him look back and ponder what ifs in that stubborn head of his, not while you were still breathing. With regained determination, you glanced one last time at your countertop alarm and entered a dreamless slumber.

Not even two days later, three consecutive raps on his door made Lucifer rub at his temples for the nth time and begrudgingly called for you to enter. Piled on his desk were several stacks of papers (as was the usual), though, that night he was in a particularly sour mood. Ever since your confession, he’d been feeling uneasy, Diavolo hurling more work at him last minute was only pushing him to his wit’s end.

“Lucifer,” he hummed in response, not bothering to conceal his growing agitation. “we need to talk,”

Ah, there it was. He was wondering when you’d confront him again.

“I believe I made myself quite clear last time,” he sighed, dropping his pen and finally meeting your eyes. “If this is about your feelings again then I’m sorry but I can’t–”

“But why? Can you really say that what we have isn’t special at all?” your lower lip quivered just a bit and Lucifer had to fight the immediate reflex of holding you close and hushing your worries. His impassiveness quickly arose frustration out of you. “God Damnit, Lucifer! All I want is to be with you while I still can! To die with no regrets, knowing you’ll be there with me, but it’s very fucking hard to do that when you’re too scared of the future to do something about–about us!”

It was a low blow to go after his pride, you knew that, but he wasn’t giving you much to work with.. Rubbing salt in a ghastly wound had certainly done the trick, the dimmed crimson that pooled just below his pupil began to shine scarlet. You would have found it gorgeous had it not been imbued with near murderous intent. Lucifer’s poker face was rapidly breaking, a horrid mix of anger and melancholy sat heavy in his throat. He was looking straight at you, but his eyes were somewhere else, some time else. He was staring hundreds of years behind you at an unhealed, poorly bandaged cut. An everlasting guilt he carried with him everywhere.

“What would you know about regret?” he breathed out the words like they’re bullets, whatever restraint he’d managed to scarp together deteriorating. He stepped closer, each stride bigger than the last as he closed the distance between you, a perfect diamond manifesting on his forehead and you could see the beginnings of black feathers sprouting from his back. “Do you have the slightest clue what a blessing mortality is? Do you have any idea how agonizing it is to live with your regrets and not be able to die with them?”

“You’re right. I don’t,” you stood your ground. “But, do you really want to live with one more regret to bear?”

He kissed you. He kissed you like he hated you, animosity and anger and pain and, most prominently, pining spilling from his lips. Lucifer parted from you just as quickly as he’d initiated the kiss, taking the time to let his irritation bleed out of him, until he was left grappling with (frankly terrifying) longing and adoration. Just this once, he’d take a leap of faith, he’d break his own rigorous code and take the risk of undying heartache in the future to be with you in the now.

One kiss turned into many, and soon you found yourselves stumbling your way from his office to his bedroom. He couldn’t get enough of you, the thought that some day he would be deprived of you broke him and made him yearn to cherish you just as much. Precious things aren’t meant for longevity, he learned. All the more reason to treasure them when given the chance. You were pushed onto his bed and not once did his hands and mouth and breath leave your skin; he couldn’t bear sever that connection.

Before long, your hands were pined to the mattress, fingers tightly laced with his as if he was petrified the moment will break and a thousand years would pass you by the instant he let go.

“I love you. Truly and deeply.”

Neither of you heard the clock strike midnight.

Lucifer was well-acquainted with sleepless nights. He was no stranger to the prick at the corner of his eye, excruciatingly familiar with midnight’s cold, lonely touch. But this one was different. Where usually lied a cool emptiness in his sheets, your warm, inviting body was just in reach. Where the corners of his mind were usually plagued by past mistakes and sorrowful repentance, you were all he could think about. He reflected on your words now that the high of emotions had worn off. He still disagreed with you on many things and, if he was being true to himself, it would take more than one night to abandon his reluctance, much more. But he was willing to put in his fair share of effort. He was willing to do many things for you, he mused. You were right about one thing though, regardless of whether or not he acted on his feelings, your parting would hurt all the same. Part of him was still resentful that he let himself fall so deeply in love with you, and a part of him knew it couldn’t be helped. You’d carved a home for yourself out of his heart, invited yourself in and declared pompously you’d be there to stay, and he’d be damned to hell all over again if he said he didn’t like that.

Pulling you closer to leech off your warmth, for the first time in forever, he dreamt of the future, a future with you.

Snapping out his reverie, Lucifer refocused his vision on the framed picture before him. It’s been a couple dozen years, the pain dulled into a hollow longing, and yet not a single regret weighed on his back. He was astonished, how you, who had lived but a fraction of his own lifetime, had such impeccable foresight. He lays in bed every night and morning thanking you for not giving up, knowing that if you had, he’d be spending the rest of his infinite days in self-loathing regret.

All Lucifer could ask for now is a little guidance. What was he to do now? Was he even capable of falling in love again after you? Would he allow it? All questions that began frequenting his head since you’re no longer there to occupy it. He only knew is that he’d love you, and love you, and love you until this world fell apart. He toyed with the idea of reincarnation. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; he saw you in everything he did. Strange how you’d taught him more about appreciating every day’s mundanities than he had in the many eons he’s been alive. Lucifer wonders about the possibility of you donning the same white wings he once had back in the Celestial Realm. If you ever did, he wonders about the complications that would arise from that, he wonders if you’d even remember him. All Lucifer was left with was a simple truth. If you ever came back, whichever form you may take, he’d welcome you back into the adobe of his heart without a second thought.

He ran his thumb over your smile, a bittersweet acceptance in his own.

“I love you. Truly, deeply, eternally.”

Obey me! taglist: @katsucookie @strwbry-m1lk (you wanted to be tagged in this one lol) join my taglist here! <3

#obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x y/n #obey me lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me #obey me shall we date #lucifer angst

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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 4 years ago

Note

Can I ask the 2p allies and the 2p axis, separately to each of them, reacting to a love confession from a close country with whom they recently developed feelings but did not yet confess because they feared she would reject them as she was too good a girl for them? ❤️

“I love you.” That was all it took to change his world.

France – François stood there. He couldn’t have heard that right, did they really just confess to him?

He is confused. François is a firm believer that you often get someone at a similar level to you in relationships. An example of this is wanting to be with someone active, for the relationship to work you have to either already by at that level or work toward that level of fitness. So, to have perfection not only acknowledge him, but like him back causes a second or two of him blue screening.

After his blue screening, François will tell her how he feels. His words will be kept simple but will feel poetic. He will also not allow her to leave his side until a time and day is set for their first date.

America – Allen smiled, it wasn’t the overconfident smirk or the wide predator’s grin he usually showed. It was a genuine smile big and full of hope.

For Allen, in this moment the world felt bright and colorful. The sounds that were once so loud became quiet and the only beings to exist were the two of them. He was happy and this level of purity was not something he had felt in a long time.

Since this relationship is with someone that Allen feels like would reject him, he would feel his ego grow. Don’t get me wrong, he would be amazing and happy, but it would boost his ego. It was not only a sign your love was meant to be, but that he was also irresistible.

Allen would take her on a date that very hour. It would be something informal like dinner at a diner. They would talk for a while and enjoy each other’s presence.

Canada – Matt’s hand came to cover his face. Looking closely, one could see the blush covering his cheeks as he laughed.

Laughing may seem like a weird reaction, but it is one way Matt shows feelings of relief and joy. He had never expected to end up with this cutie and for her to confess first, that isn’t very manly of him. In his mind, he would have imagined various different scenarios where he finally let this fear go and manned up. Many of them involved him winning her heart in a fight or competition. Though, he was not upset with this.

Matt would take a note out of François’ book and plan a date with her, but he would treat her to something before the date. If they had a meeting before the date, he would bring a small gift for her to the meeting and would work extra hard to be chivalrous.

England – Oliver looked stumped for a moment, before asking if it was heartfelt. Her reply of a confirmation sent Oliver launching into her arms.

Since Oliver works in the realm of emotional manipulation, he would do his best to certain that emotions like love were actually felt by the woman he yearned for. He would accept the words after double checking and be willing to show he love for her openly. After a day or two past connections would resurface, and he would be paranoid about it. Though, if she stays true in both word and deed, Oliver would do all he could to make up for his odd behavior.

Being the nation known for chivalry, he will fall right into the boyfriend role. Opening doors, carrying things for you, and coming up with amazing dates would be his forte.

Russia – Viktor’s body relaxed when he registered the words that came from her mouth. A small smile graced his features as he gently pulled her close.

This man of tradition would feel both relief and agitation. His relief in that she felt the same, while agitation that he failed to notice her pining. Viktor would tell himself that he would have to make up for his lack of attention. This would mean taking extra care to the needs of his snowflake. After all a good man does not leave his woman wanting.

Viktor would surprise her with a date a couple days after the confession. He during the time in between he would talk with her nearest kin and ensure that they know she is in good hands and that he wants the same thing has them, her happiness.

China – Jin could feel his eyes water as he smiled. He was not this blessed often and he would not take this chance for guaranteed.

It had been so long since Jin could say that a person made him happy. The last few decades, joy had come in fleeting bursts from worldly pleasures and had left him searching. Until she walked in, but the difference between them felt like canyons that Jin could never cross. She was too good, pure, and precious. While Jin walked along the deranged and dirt of the earth.

When he realized the her words were true, Jin’s tears flowed. Despite their differences, he always hoped they would be like the love stories that are so common. Lovers from different worlds that end up creating a beauty all their own.

Jin would be determined to make this relationship work. Right from the get-go he would be ready to change habits in his life to ensure that he could stay with his light.

Italy – Luciano had felt the woman of his dreams was above his station. An impossible dream meant to be indulged in the quiet hours of the morning, and yet here it was. His fantasy becoming a reality with the bright rays of the morning light. Luciano was quick to capture her lips within his own, almost as a way for him to confirm that this was not a dream.

Luciano may be smoother than butter, but even he can catch feelings. Wanting for someone that he believes that he could never have is torture. He never meant for his heart to be caught and now that it was, he had been fantasizing about them. Their words caught him off guard, it made him wonder if he was still home, lost in the throws of the land of dreams.

The kiss would not last long, but the break wouldn’t either. With a confirmation of reality, Luciano will turn up the charm and continue the kisses.

Romano – Fabrizio didn’t register that he yelled out a yes until he heard her melodious giggles. He blushed and tried to recover from his outburst, but he failed as he joined her in a chorus of laughter.

This drama king’s scream would cause the birds to panic and the rabbits to run. As much as he loves her and has gotten to know her, he would be shocked by her confession. Her purity would make him doubt that he had any chance with her. So, before the confession, he was content to just be with her.

After confession, Fabrizio would make her his number one model and do all he can to make her even more beautiful. He would love her natural beauty, obviously, but to be given the opportunity to make his angel more lustrous than the moon would be something he could never turn down.

Germany – Without a second thought Luther kissed her. He had been wanting this for so long and why not celebrate.

Luther would have been flirting around to get his mind off his sweetheart. His heart would ache because of the dark thoughts telling him, he had no chance. It would have lead to him feeling empty and tried. He was shocked when she confessed, because he thought he didn’t deserve her. He flirted with others, but he guessed she saw through him.

In the same moment he was shocked, he reacted. He put all his longing and happiness into that kiss. Luther wanted her to know that he was hers and that she would get everything he had to offer.

Luther would not leave her that night. He would spend all the time he had with her, talking about how happy he was they were together. How sorry and stupid he was for flirting with others in front of her. They would share laughs and end the night cuddling.

Prussia – Wilhelm nodded. He wasn’t sure why, but he could not form the words to say, “me too.” Though judging by her smile, Wilhelm guessed that she understood too.

Though quiet, Wilhelm can be further shocked into silence. The phrase “I love you” was one he rarely even heard between him and his family. To hear it from this angel, it caused his vocal cords to seize. He wanted nothing more than to offer prayers of gratitude to his God. Despite his fallen state, and her purity, Wilhelm had been blessed with her love.

Wilhelm would not be able to talk for a bit after. He would be so happy and allow his lover to do all the talking. Once he could control his vocal cords, Wilhelm would ask if it would be okay to take her out for a date. With the start of their courtship assured, Wilhelm would then bask in her presence.

Japan – Kurai may not have smiled, but there was something in his eyes and his posture that showed joy.

Kurai knew that he had blood staining his hands, and he did not want to tarnish his blossom. It would bring him shame to even think about taking her light and turning it dark. Yet, Kurai could not stop his mind from wondering what her lips felt like and what she was like in her most tender moments. Their distance hurt, but he could only hope of one day gaining the confidence to over come it.

With her confession Kurai felt a weight leave his shoulders. Maybe he could find joy in this life. Maybe it came from falling in love with her. Though he doesn’t show much emotion, Kurai shows it in actions. He will hold her hand so tenderly in that moment and look upon her with eyes full of love.

#2p hetalia #2p headcanons #2p france #2p america #2p canada #2p england #2p china #2p russia #2p italy #2p romano #2p germany #2p prussia #2p japan #2p allies #2p axis

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luvlyrv · 4 years ago

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Another Dance (Duel Pt. 2) | Seulgi x F!Reader

Genre: fluff, knight!au

Summary: Seulgi has taught you how to dance, but now she needs to teach you what this new feeling brewing in your chest means.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Sorry this took a while to get out. Thank you again to my editor I always love your suggestions. I hope everything in this follow up makes sense.

Date: 5/9/21

Click here to read part one

Perhaps these last few months of your life have been the best. Despite the fact that training has been more brutal due to your nearing graduation into knighthood, every moment has felt brighter than the past several years of your life. Maybe all? You can’t remember ever waking up to a feeling like this all the time.

Yes, this feeling right here in your chest. The feeling you get when you wake up startled and in a frenzy from a dream of spending a day with Seulgi. A life with Seulgi. It’s the feeling that you get when she asks for your hand so that the two of you can make a fool of yourselves dancing. The strange way your chest seems to contract and hurt when Seulgi sneaks a smile while the commandment screams orders at you.

Since when did you feel like this? You’re not sure. Maybe it was that one night the two of you spent together weeks ago, where you finally felt confident enough to lead the dance for once. You had pulled her close with a bold move you didn’t even plan to make, making Seulgi give you a shocked look before glancing away, barely catching her soft smile. Maybe she was proud of you in that moment, you don’t know. You don’t know anything anymore besides Seulgi, besides the fact that you were hyper aware of her breath that night. Of the way her garments clung so close to skin, the rise and fall of her chest, the length of her eyelashes, the slope of her nose.

Every day you’re greeted by the sunrise, only to be anticipating its set.

Before you can spend your cherished time with Seulgi though, you had to go through the motions of your day. Time seemed to pass slowly as you sparred and trained. Nowadays though there was a lightness in your body that wasn’t there before, and your eyes had become better at reading the flowing movements of your opponents. You were ecstatic to see your improvement, likewise were the commanding officers and fellow apprentices, it seemed. Some officers urged you to continue to carry out whatever it was that you were doing to improve and to finally displace Seulgi. Meanwhile the knights-in-training were muttering among themselves about your progress and how it was done.

To say that you were happy that morning training ended would be an understatement. The second highlight of your day would be the precious half hour you spent with Seulgi during your afternoon meal. As you impatiently wait in line to be served whatever was deemed nutritious for prospecting knights, you think about how you were just a couple months ago. After spending some time with Seulgi you wanted to somehow be even closer to her, to spend time beyond the midnight dances you two shared.

When you had first decided to sit next to Seulgi instead of by your lonesome, you were uncharacteristically nervous. You were sure that if people looked carefully enough they could have noticed how your steady sword-arm shook as you held onto your tray of food. People didn’t hide their raised eyebrows at your approach, some people left the area, terrified at the thought of you possibly coming over to terrorize them.

It was a surprise when you had quietly asked if it was okay for you to seat yourself next to Seulgi. She didn’t hesitate to say yes, flashing you her crescent eyes you had unknowingly grown accustomed to. The surrounding witnesses to the sight were confused. When would you have willingly associated with anyone? Especially Seulgi, and in such a shy manner?

When you finally get your meal you walk towards the familiar table and remember your present day situation. Now that time has passed people are less wary around you and how you seemingly lack the intention to verbally abuse and berate people. In fact, when you began to take Seulgi’s advice of smiling more people seemed to… like you? It helped that you lost most of your competitive streak, instead favoring to focus on yourself and what you can do. Mostly your dancing, though, as you yearned to impress Seulgi more each and every night.

The clank of your tray against the wooden aging table alerts Seulgi of your presence. Quickly turning her head away from the person she was talking to, she opens her mouth to greet you. That was until Markus, a man who came from a noble family with notable enough skills, called out for you. You move to face the source of his voice, only to notice him uncomfortably close to your side. It was odd for him to suddenly appear when you swore you didn’t notice him on your way over.

“Hey, I was just wondering if you’d like to duel me in the afternoon? You know, since we haven’t gotten an opportunity to do so for the past couple weeks. Maybe go on a walk afterwards?” He throws you a shy, maybe even a cheeky smile. If there was one thing you knew about him it was that you’ve had much more encounters with him than you’d like recently, and that smile of his was one he’d thrown at other female trainees in the past. If anything, he was merely a passing thought.

“Sure, I don’t care.” You say in your signature neutral tone. Hoping that he’d leave you alone now, you began to turn back to Seulgi. Your movement is stopped when Markus puts his hand on your shoulder and swipes a finger across your cheek.

“You had some dirt there from practice. Just wanted to get it off.” He grins tortuously wide before excusing himself from the table. You sigh, and when you finally get to look at Seulgi she has a raised brow, her mouth forming a tight line. Not sure what to do at her sudden change of mood, you pick at your food a bit. You feel like you can’t eat anything under her intense stare.

You’re starting to feel nervous until Seulgi decides to tap on your shoulder. Glancing up from your plate you see her with a handkerchief in hand.

“I think," she pauses, "Markus made it worse, actually.” She adds before gently rubbing the dirt that became spread across your face. You scrunch your nose and eyes but a small smirk forms in affection.

“Does it really matter, though? I don’t care about how I look.”

“I think you look cuter without it. And more hygienic.”

After your meal came your academic and strategical studies. Your brain dulls into mush after countless hours of toiling over geography and the endless ways a person can kill someone. Although you still do well in a more scholar-like learning environment, your body greatly preferred the battlefield. You let out a sigh of happiness when you were allowed to stretch and start another round of sparring.

Keeping to your promise, you await as you lean into your training sword until Markus shows up in your vision again. He walks towards you with such unnerving confidence and a grin you think is permanently scribbled on his face.

“Are you ready, my lady?”

“Don’t patronize me.” You mumble. The two of you back away from each other to an appropriate distance before getting into your stances. Some people gather around the scene, which wasn’t uncommon for your battles. They want to make a spectacle of your fight.

When you rush forward towards Markus you get a good stab straight in his stomach. His reflexes seemed almost slow, or at least much slower than yours or Seulgi’s. He lets out a grunt, but the training armor and his natural durability keeps him on his feet. In an attempt to make you fall, he swings his sword arm directly downwards towards your back. You easily sidestep and continue a relentless sequence of parries and hard smacks against his arms and legs.

This continues on for minutes on minutes, much longer than the vast majority of your fights. Markus has proven himself to be a bad fighter, and the only reason you haven’t won yet is the fact that your sword wasn’t made to kill and the fact that Markus has stupidly good endurance. It’s hard for you to keep fighting. Not because you were lacking stamina but on account of the monotony of his moves started to bore you greatly.

Your mind wanders as you automatically parry Markus’ pathetic slashes without much thought. You recall how you have to go on a walk with Markus when he slips a slight grin, but after that you can go about your day and eventually spend the night with Seulgi. You think about how her smile looks in the moonlight, how her hair bounces as you move to a make-believe rhythm. You unconsciously put on a broad grin as you hope she teaches you something new tonight.

You’ve let your attention slip for too long though. When you get a grip on reality again, you realize that you’re now on the ground and Markus’ blade is descending on your body. Your reaction allows you to bring up your sword to his, a loud clang traveling through the air. With all your might you push back, trying to angle your sword so his would slide off and break free from contact. It seems like you may be able to fend off his weapon for a second, but he yells as he delivers all of his strength into pushing down on you.

The force is more than enough to make your sword lose contact with his. With the blade right on your throat he throws on a victorious expression and screams in happiness. The crowd around you softly murmur as they look at each other. Markus drinks in his win and he looks at everyone and then at you.

“You’ve gone soft on me, haven’t you?”

“What? What do you mean?” You try to brush the dirt off your back as you get up.

“I mean, why would you all of a sudden smile and let me win like that otherwise?” He chuckles with his words as he approaches you and places a hand on your back.

“I was just distracted.” You try to get away from him, but he gets closer and whispers in your ear.

“By me, right?” You hear a certain kind of joy and conceitedness in his voice that makes you want to vomit while simultaneously punching him.

“No. Now let's just get this walk done with so I can go shower or shoot my bow, or something.” At your words he shuffles away and uncomfortably leaves some space between the two of you as you go for a quick walk in the woods. Everybody watches as you two leave the area, and as you pass by you hear their whispers.

“…like him?”

“ …usually ruthless…why’d she let him win?”

“…was right…gone soft.”

You aren’t sure what to do about their theorizing or their mindless gossip, nor what to do with the man who was now clinging onto your side. What was usually a peaceful and quiet trail for you became loud and annoying as Markus kept trying to flirt despite your silence and lack of response to his remarks. It was hard to appreciate the beauty in the trees and forest life over the talkativeness of the man next to you. If you could, you wouldn’t have gone on a walk with him, but you felt like it was dishonorable of you to break an appointment or promise.

You think that next time you should bring Seulgi with you instead, it would be a pleasant experience then.

After what felt like a century of walking, you had finally looped around the trail and made it back to the beginning of the forest. You continue to trek forward and almost leave Markus behind, but he grips onto your waist and looks at you for a moment. The tinge of expectancy that gleamed in his eyes, and that's when you knew. You watch in a panic as he flutters his eyes and brings his lips to yours.

There’s a ringing in your ears from how hard you slap him.

“Don’t.” You say while walking away from him.

You decide that you should go to the shower to wash off his filth, then go to the archery range to practice shooting his face in your head.

It would be a lie to say you weren’t sore from the amount of work you forced upon your body today. As you hunker towards the barracks though, a sudden burst of energy renews the feelings in your limbs when you find Seulgi patiently awaiting you like always. The area clears out of people until it’s just you and Seulgi. She comes by your side to walk with you towards the field.

Your dance begins and you drink in the comfortable silence until Seulgi decided to speak.

“So, Markus, how do you feel about him?” There’s a sense of inquisitiveness that you haven’t heard from her before.

“Hm? He’s just a person.” She makes a face at your answer, scrunching her eyebrows as she pushes further,

“Really? You know, when I finished my practice match and walked around everybody was talking about the two of you… you know. How you’re a thing or something.”

“Just a misunderstanding.” You assert, but Seulgi seems to want to hear more.

“Do you not like him? What about anybody else? I feel like everybody is dying for your attention these days.” With the last sentence there’s a subtle shift to a sadder, even disgruntled tone in her voice. You watch as she bites her lip waiting for an answer, entranced enough to almost forget to reply. The insecurity was hard to ignore.

“I don’t really talk to anyone besides you, Seulgi, and I don’t know why people bother. Maybe they just respect my abilities and think now that I’m friendlier I’d be interested in a conversation. Also, you aren’t one to talk. You’ve had people following you around and worshipping you since day one.” Thinking about it, you can‘t ever remember a time where Seulgi didn’t have someone by her side.

Another wave of silence envelopes you as Seulgi finally nods, maybe settling with this answer. Or at least is mulling over your words. As she takes the time to think, you remember the events that happened earlier in the day and the question that had been bothering you.

“By the way, are you making me soft?”

You interrupt the dance you shared by taking a step back. You cock your head in examination. Recently it’s been hard to tell if Seulgi’s influence over you had been helpful or harmful. Especially since there were instances where you almost completely lost your focus like you did today.

“Where is this coming from?” She asks while putting on a confused smile, as if to say ‘excuse me?’.

“Well, obviously I’m more approachable now because of your advice, but now you’re getting in the way of my fighting.”

“Huh?” Seulgi is taken aback by your words and how you state them so matter-of-factly.

“Sometimes I lose focus in the middle of fights now. They accused me of becoming soft.”

“How can I possibly be at fault for that?”

“Well, it’s you that I think about. All the time.” You reach out for her hand, gently tugging it towards you and then onto your chest. “And you make my heart beat real fast. Faster than any running commandment has made us done. It kind of hurts my chest, really. Have you casted a spell on me too?”

You feel Seulgi’s hand tremble in a quake.

“Y/N, are you joking right now?”

“No, I just want to know, why do I feel like this all the time around you?” Looking at Seulgi’s face you spot how the tips of her ears turned a bright red, despite the darkness of the night. Your other hand pulls back her hair so you can examine it further. With a worried look you ask, “Oh, are you cold? Should we go back inside?” You panic a little as you see the pink had spread onto the rest of her face.

“You…” Seulgi’s breath has quickened, and she rescinds her hand from yours. You’re worried you’ve done something wrong as Seulgi refused to even look at you, instead she's staring at her feet. “You like me, stupid.” The dramatic atmosphere turns lighthearted as she laughs boisterously.

“Huh? Is that what this means?”

“Are you being serious with me?” Seulgi keeps laughing at you, much to your frustration.

“Yes! I am! I don’t understand! I’ve never felt this way before, that’s why I have to ask.” Your face lapses to a pout and that seems to encourage her to keep laughing at you.

“Hey, stop pouting!” Her laughing reduced to giggles as she walked closer to you. She brings her hands forward as they cup your face. Your knees feel weak, buckling at the warmth in her hands and the care they seemed to radiate. She finally calms down when she asks you, “Now, if you really like me then tell me," she sucks in a quick breath," would you like to kiss me right now?”

For a second you’re frozen, but soon enough you bashfully nod your head a little too hard.

Her lips reach yours and you instantly smile. The lips that you’ve stared at for hours, the ones that say the words that have moved you the most, the ones that curve adorably and ignites the dormant happiness within you. You stay that way for a moment that both felt like forever and like no time at all. Seulgi breaks away before kissing each of your cheeks.

“Oh,” she sighs while staring at you, “you’ve made me the happiest person in the world.”

#seulgi x reader #red velvet x reader #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #rv seulgi #gg imagines #gg scenarios #kpop writing #kang seulgi #x reader #kpop au

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writeblrfantasy · 4 years ago

Text

here it is!

my pride and joy, the piece that has completely hijacked my brain and my life for the past 24 hours. this is the prologue, some might say, to TDOSA, featuring the vibes of an endless, sunny summer, the sense of floating through time and space, and a lot of lesbian yearning and projection, i present: the summer of seret ashling.

cw implied sex, blood

word count around 6300

one time tags of interest @ashen-crest @ettawritesnstudies

tdosa taglist (lmk to be added/removed) magic-is-something-we-create @hysteriwah @imjustalonesomewriteblr @a-forgotten-dusk @bronwennjames @metanoiamorii

Lysandra Fleming’s summer begins like this: a lonely night in Briar Bar, sipping a warm mug of cherry syrup. Not because she is cold—the heat in Vashiri Valley does not begin with summer, nor does it end there. Cherry syrup is vile and bitter and sweet at the same time, made worse warm, but the smooth way it goes down reminds her of childhood, the strange days when she actually liked this stuff.

Not home. She has not had a home since she was a child, when the supposed charm of the palace still worked on her. What were once silky ribbons in her hair became the invisible chains and rules of her parents, tying her down.

Lysandra, you can’t do this, it will reflect badly on us, or Lysandra, you can’t speak to that person, can’t smile at them, can’t see them, don’t you know what they did ten years ago? Don’t you know who their parents are? Vashiri Valley is struggling for power enough without you mucking it up.

Lysandra stopped smiling altogether.

Now, she comes to Briar Bar to be left alone with her cherry syrup, to melt into the crowd, to be normal, for once. Instead, others smile at her the way her parents always encouraged she smile, fake, polite enough, with an ulterior gleam in their eye. So many eyes watch her in want, but she does not feel seen at all by any of them.

The room’s quiet conversation dims and dissolves into whispers, prompting Lysandra to glance over at the reason. The reason is facing away from Lysandra, wearing a tall black hat and a black suit that nearly blends into the darkness of the walls, if not for the white shirt the woman is wearing underneath.

Lysandra didn’t see her come in, and all eyes turn to the tall, dark stranger, wondering the same thing. Her companions across the room point her in Lysandra’s direction, who braces for another meaningless smile, another delighted to meet you, Highness.

The woman turns, and Lysandra sees brown skin, black hair falling in long, loose curls, a subtle, close mouthed smile that draws her attention instantly. Brown eyes meet Lysandra’s green.

“Seret Ashling, my princess.” Seret Ashling leans down, never breaking eye contact, and kisses the top of Lysandra’s hand, holding her fingers delicately, but not like she’s glass. She treats Lysandra like she knows, instantly, her boundaries, how far she can safely push, what Lysandra can take—which is a lot more than most people guess.

Already, Lysandra likes her.

Lysandra is not her princess. She knows the name of every person in this valley, and she knows she’s never even seen Seret before. Even the name is foreign to her. Seh-reht.

That makes it all the better.

She moves her stool a little farther from the empty one beside her, raising an eyebrow in an invitation Seret accepts, removing her hat and tucking it under her arm to smoothly mount the stool. Seret sits with a straight back but ankles curled around the legs of the stool, adding enough humanity to her presence to make Lysandra smile.

She does not prop her elbow on the table, she does not order anything, but she does stare at Lysandra like she’s the most interesting person in the room. Lysandra can tell, somehow, that this gaze is genuine, not hastily crafted and practiced to impress her.

She offers to buy Lysandra another mug of cherry syrup, and Lysandra lets her.

***

Everywhere Lysandra goes, Seret seems to find her. She’s the talk of the valley, enrapturing them with her tall, dark, handsome aura, her small smile, the way the sun shines off her hair.

Finally Seret takes the leap and asks her out to places in Vashiri City Lysandra has been a thousand times, but somehow Seret’s presence paints color to her world again instead of the dull greens and golds the valley has become.

Their connection is instant, from Briar Bar to the lane of potion shops to the muffled awe in Seret’s face when she sees the Academy. At some point, Seret takes Lysandra’s hand, and they stroll through the town like they are not a princess and the new obsession of Vashiri Valley.

Everyone has been asking Seret about herself, where she’s from, what family she has, but she slips out of answering like a snake from a trap. Her smile is quite persuasive. Lysandra doesn’t even try to pry the answer out of her, though she might be the one person to succeed. Seret still looks at her every time like she’s the sun and the moon and the stars.

Lysandra’s heart thrums with nerves every hour before their dates, afraid of messing things up and driving Seret away, but the moment Seret enters the room, her heart calms. Seret gives her a warm hug that envelopes her whole soul, tells her she missed her dearly, and Lysandra wonders why she was ever worried. Seret seems impossible to offend.

“I am going to buy you a gift,” Seret announces on one of their dates in town, in a tone which makes it clear this is non-negotiable. Lysandra only nods. Seret pauses between two shops, one being the most popular jewelry store in the city with a line out the door, the one across the street being an adorable but little known competitor.

Lysandra waits for Seret to get in line for the popular jewelry store, but instead the woman lingers in front of the door of the other shop before opening it. “Don’t peek,” she says with a little smile, shutting the door and triggering the little bell. Lysandra stands there gawking like a fool until Seret emerges ten minutes later holding a little square box.

When Lysandra opens it with trembling hands, she finds a little heart shaped necklace, gold with a silver center on a golden chain. The gold probably isn’t real, probably just paint, but the pink paper wrapping the necklace and the little thank you card inside the box make her smile when the shop across the street wouldn’t.

The plain red and blue shelves in the windows of the other shop, where her family’s jeweler gets his jewels, have nothing on the soft pinks, greens, and browns of the cheap shop owned by twins. They keep flowers in their windows, pink carnations, and prices written in loopy court script.

“Do you like it?” Seret asks nervously, and Lysandra realizes she hasn’t said a word.

“I love it. Thank you.” She offers it up to Seret to clasp around her neck. Seret’s warm fingertips brush the back of her neck, and shivers run down Lysandra’s spine. This is special, her heart keeps telling her, like she doesn’t already know. This is different.

“How did you know?” Lysandra asks.

“Know what?”

“That I’d like this better than the shop across the street.”

“You’re a princess, you’re used to expensive jewelry, and you’ve publicly and loudly denounced royal life. Also, I’d rather give my money to them, seems like they actually need it. Don’t you agree?”

Lysandra has to take a deep breath to keep from blurting out something stupid. “Yes. I agree.”

Their first kiss a day later is a ray of light and a shadow of darkness, colliding and exploding in a glorious show of white and black, settling as ashes and debris into serene, calm gray. They are not the sun and moon. Lysandra is too sharp to be the sun, Seret too dim to be the moon.

It is the death of something. The birth. Lysandra can’t define what.

***

When Lysandra asks, Seret says she came to Vashiri Valley to visit and experience its delights, after which she meets Lysandra’s eyes and kisses her hands.

Lysandra hangs around the city apartment Seret rents. It’s close to Wynn’s cabin where she sleeps. She hasn’t slept in the palace in months. The layers of security and scrutiny she has to pass to enter are not worth the temporary comfort of a soft bed and her favorite meals.

She’s sleeping beside Seret before long, unable to bear being apart from her for that long, wondering how she behaves during such a precious time. Seret’s arms are even warmer around her under cool sheets, and in the morning, Seret brings her coffee before disappearing behind a white door.

She reappears in a cloud of steam, smelling like sweet flowers and honeysuckle. Lysandra gets to kiss her good morning and wonder how she got so lucky.

They’re invited to plays, the nights at the bars for amateur bards, the travelling witches who perform at the amphitheater. Lysandra has been to every event in this valley at least once, usually at the request of her family, but Seret loves going. Like the city and the shops and the Academy, experiencing Seret’s joy secondhand is intoxicating.

Everywhere they go, every table they sit at, whether it’s the theater or the bar or a café for a simple breakfast, people are fawning over Seret. The entire valley is enamored with Lysandra’s new lover.

Seret seems to find it amusing, the way they pat her arm and show a comical amount of interest in everything she has to say, just waiting for an opportunity to ask questions that they must know will go unanswered.

Lysandra sits quietly, burning from the way Seret entertains them, smiles at them in her private way. She wants Seret all to herself. She’s used to sharing things with the public, she’s had to share herself her whole life, but Seret is different. Lysandra doesn’t care if it’s selfish, Seret is hers.

When everyone finally seems like they’ve gotten their fill of Vashiri’s new inhabitant, Lysandra takes her to the edge of the forest and the dead tall grass fields beside it. She gets to watch the exact moment Seret falls in love.

Seret has never grinned, never raised her voice louder than a murmur, but her hitch of breath and the way she reaches for Lysandra’s hand is all she needs. Pride blooms in Lysandra’s chest at the realization she’s learned Seret’s little tells like that.

“It’s just a field,” she laughs. She’s laughing more, now, thanks to Seret. Stoic, cynical, unpleasant Princess Lysandra, laughing. This is why she hasn’t let Arlin near Seret yet, she’d never hear the end of it.

“No, it’s not,” Seret breathes, radiating darkness and mystery in a way that is curious, enticing, instead of harmful. Lysandra just wants to follow her into the shadows where no others can see them, hurt them, touch them. “Can’t you see?”

Lysandra strains her neck, but it’s not the fact that Seret is taller than her that’s the problem. “No.”

Seret pulls her along and begins running instead of answering. Lysandra yelps in surprise and stumbles along, staring enviously at Seret’s long legs—long legs, long arms, long face, long fingers, everything about Seret is long. She sweeps Lysandra up in her arms and spins her around, feet in the air, Seret’s strong arms keeping her up.

Seret is grinning for the first time, showing perfect white teeth, her joy the only reason Lysandra doesn’t scream in shock. She trusts Seret utterly, she realizes in a paralyzing moment of clarity, the sun warming her back, the wind blowing through her hair. Seret has never given her a reason not to.

“What’s the matter with you?” Lysandra asks, though she can’t keep the joy out of her own voice. Seret is infectious. Anything she feels reflects on Lysandra.

“We had fields exactly like this in the city where I grew up. I can’t believe I haven’t seen these yet.” She finally sets Lysandra down and immediately kisses her, as has become a habit the last week. Lysandra gives in, gives over entirely.

She has twisted and forced a key into the lock of her heart, but now, she hands the broken key to Seret and wishes her lucky trying to fit it in the rusty, damaged old lock. Lysandra knows she’ll unlock it fast, her eyebrows pinched and frowning in concentration, long fingers working quickly.

She doesn’t tell her that, of course.

Even then, Lysandra knew.

***

They find a cabin at the edge of the fields and the forest which they quickly move into, abandoning Arlin and the boys and Lysandra's family and Vashiri Valley for themselves. Lysandra has no remorse.

Seret shows her how to live in darkness, in quiet, in peace. They prepare coffee in the mornings before the sun floods the fields with light, arms brushing and using only using their sleepy voices when they need to, not wanting to disturb the holy peace of the morning.

They bathe in the evenings indoors where the fading sun doesn’t reach, sitting close in a tub of river water that Lysandra heats.

They spend all day laying on their backs in the fields, one of them lying on the other while someone’s hair is stroked and someone speaks over the wind.

When the afternoon heat turns the sunlight from pleasantly warm to scorching, they move to the shade of the big oak tree near their cabin to eat.

The shadows are their friends in this haven, where no one and nothing else exists but them. Seret trusts them like they trust each other, content to close her eyes and lay her head back against the trunk when she’s done eating.

Lysandra loves the warmth of the sun, but she hates the harsh white spotlight of her family, the prickly rules tying her down, the sense that she can’t ever escape their restraining eyes. She can hide in the darkness from Seret. They’ll never catch her.

Lysandra has never been so invincible, light enough to be picked up on a cloud every time the wind blows. Seret is the only magical thing she’s met that doesn’t have a drop of magic within her.

Seret is ineffable. Unknowable. Larger than life. Lysandra can never hope to understand her fully, but she can try, she can watch and observe, attempt to learn the inner workings of Seret’s mind.

“Seret?” Lysandra asks one afternoon just like every other, where the peace and warmth of their retreat cannot be broken. “Where are you from?”

It is the first time she has asked. She holds her breath, waiting for Seret’s answer, which takes a long time to come. Seret chews on her lip, her expression as guarded as always, until she finally smiles. “Wherever you want me to be from. North, south, east, west, I’ve visited them all. Pick one and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Lysandra’s chest opens to swallow an ache of emptiness. “Maybe later.” It’s not what she wanted, and they both know it. Lysandra inches mere breaths away from Seret’s side, but it won’t go unnoticed. She thought Seret might actually tell her. She rubs the small gold heart between her fingers and sighs.

“Hey,” Seret says, turning Lysandra’s chin towards her. “It’s not because I don’t trust you, because I do. I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone, more than you know.”

“Then why won’t you tell me?” Need, embarrassing and whiny, sneaks into Lysandra’s voice, but she ignores it. She’s entitled to this answer, at least.

“I don’t want to shatter your world.” Seret sighs and shifts to take Lysandra’s hands in both of hers. “I am from the south. I ran away from home at a young age to travel because my upbringing was hell, and I’ve never stopped since.”

Lysandra breathes out.

“None of that changes how I feel about you,” Seret continues, pleading, the most passionate Lysandra has ever heard her. “I have never met anyone like you, even with everywhere I’ve been. I do not want anyone but you.”

No one has ever said anything like that to Lysandra, and hearing it now gives her pause. The way Seret’s eyes burn on her skin with their dark intensity is exquisite. Lysandra will never get used to it. She does not want to.

“I would not want this with anyone else.” It does not mean the same thing, but Seret smiles, close mouthed, anyway. At times like this, Seret’s secretive nature makes Lysandra’s blood boil, unvoiced screams rise in her throat. She has given so much of herself already, why can Lysandra not know of her past, her family, her ugliest emotions?

She never wants Seret to treat her like glass. The first day they met, Seret got it right. Lysandra can’t bear the thought that Seret is any less perfect than she thinks, that would shatter her, not knowledge of the world beyond the valley.

Lysandra has gotten all she will today. She is content to sigh deeply and lay her head on Seret’s arm. Seret will stroke Lysandra’s hair, and the wind will ruffle her own, and Lysandra’s urge to push it back will fight the warmth settling into her bones. They are fine. They will be fine. Nothing more.

***

On lucky occasions, Seret shares stories of her travels from who knows when, who knows where. She has been everywhere, she said, and Lysandra believes her. She asks about the north, the far east, the west, and Seret’s homeland, the south.

The south could mean any number of things. Lysandra has never been out of Vashiri Valley, and her family have always been vague about what lies beyond their mountains, but Seret describes an actual ocean, the cold water wrapping around her ankles, the hot sand burning her feet.

She takes Lysandra to a desert in her mind, great, sprawling cities, icy lakes and snowy mountains to the north. To the east, she says, more ocean with great brown ships. Lysandra doesn’t care if she’s lying.

She lays in the grass on her side and lets the wind blow her skirts while she travels the world in her mind. Seret closes her eyes and traces mountains, rivers, canyons on her spine, unconsciously pointing in those directions. Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat.

Seret opens her eyes briefly to ask, “Am I boring you?”

Never. You couldn’t if you tried.

Lysandra shakes her head. Seret’s slow, easy smile returns, and the warm fingers on the skin revealed by her backless dress whisk her away to a thousand new worlds so big she can’t even imagine them.

***

“Does it ever bother you that I’m a princess?”

Seret smiles. “That isn’t something that would bother most people in my position.”

“I’d disagree. As the lover of a princess, you have no privacy, there’s expectations, rules you have to follow, harassment…I suppose a better word would be faze. You met and introduced yourself and spoke to me as if I were normal.”

“I called you my princess. the day we met.”

At Lysandra’s withering look, Seret chuckles. “Who said you aren’t normal? You didn’t have any control over what family you were born into. I would still feel the same if you hadn’t rejected your family and your role, if you were princess first and person second. It would be a bit harder to get to you, though, in that stronghold. To me, in that bar, you were just the prettiest girl in the nicest dress with the most captivating eyes. They told me you were a princess—so what? I love you anyway.”

Lysandra’s cheeks burn hot, and she chokes on saliva. The wind picks up, and she feels like she’s falling. How can Seret just say things like that and expect Lysandra not to explode and melt into the sun? “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Seret smiles again. “I’m not looking to get anywhere. I’m not like those people at the bar when we met. I’m not trying to be like anyone. I’m not not trying to be like anyone. I’m not looking to impress you, honestly. I’m just being honest.”

Lysandra’s breath catches in her throat like a branch stuck in a river, unfazed by the powerful oncoming waves.

Seret is clearly not looking to hear it back, but Lysandra gathers all her courage and quietly says, “I love you, too. I--”

She shies away from Seret’s intense gaze, burning on the back of her neck. “I’m not good at, uh. Saying things like this. Like you. But I want you to know that you’ve changed my life. I don’t know how to thank you for all that you’ve done for me, given me. This place is nothing short of perfect. Every minute we’ve spent together has been nothing short of perfect. I’m sorry I haven’t given you anything back.”

“My dear, you are quite mistaken. You’ve given me the ultimate gift: yourself. The opportunity to know your heart, your mind. You’ve let me in when I can tell you have trouble doing so.”

She kisses the back of Lysandra’s hand, looking up at her through her eyelashes, as she often does. It still makes Lysandra’s entire being heat like the sun itself came down to lay its rays gently onto her, powerful but careful with her.

“You are my entire world,” says Seret, the sun. “The most precious creature in all the places I’ve visited, all the creatures in this valley alone.”

Lysandra smiles. “You haven’t met Wynn Scylla’s dragonlings.”

Deflect. Defend. Dismiss. Seret sees through it.

Lysandra lays their lips together, hoping to convey without the painful process of words said aloud just how much Seret makes her hurt. Seret makes her burn and ache in the best of ways, like a satisfying stretch after waking up from a stiff nap.

Seret challenges her to face things she loves shying away from, things like the swelling of her heart which she hasn’t felt in years. Seret is terrifying, all consuming, but Lysandra can’t imagine a world without her. Much of her allure comes from her mystery, however infuriating her secrecy is.

Hours later, when they’re full and sated from dinner, after they wash the dishes side by side at the river and after they’ve bathed in the tub in the house, Lysandra hears a faint hum, high and low, continuous, lulling and soft. She turns her head and discovers it’s Seret, humming to herself as she drapes the wet towels out to dry. “What’s that you’re humming?”

Seret pauses her sweet melody. “Hm? Oh, just some music from the east. If I had the proper instruments, I would play the tune.”

Lysandra chokes on air. “You can play music, too?”

Seret smiles. “I can do many things.”

“Oh?” Lysandra doesn’t know where her sudden burst of courage comes from. Perhaps she’s the one looking to get somewhere. She raises an eyebrow and crooks a finger, hoping a low tone will convey her point. “Come here and show me.”

Seret is quiet, face blank. Lysandra wonders, belatedly, if she does in fact have unknown boundaries.

When Seret desperately searches her eyes for consent, Lysandra realizes it was shock and not disgust that rendered her speechless. “You mean—” Seret asks, hoarse, never breaking eye contact. Lysandra shivers. She had that effect on her?

“Yes.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent moment, Seret’s hungry gaze fixed on Lysandra’s pale shoulders, the towel wrapped around her middle. Then they’re both moving at once, mouths moving in the same pattern of Seret’s melody, a symphony of hearts beating in time.

If Lysandra is Seret’s world, Seret is the center of Lysandra’s.

***

At long last, Lysandra’s family gets wind of Seret. Lysandra doesn’t want to know how. Maybe Wynn and Petrus spread it around by accident—she loves those boys, but they couldn’t keep a secret if they tried. Maybe it was Arlin, who Lysandra finally let meet Seret.

All she does know is that her family is demanding to meet their middle princess’s lover, which means they’ll clarify if they’re allowed to be together or not.

“I’m sorry,” Lysandra whimpers, on the edge of tears in Seret’s arms. “I don’t want them to touch us with a ten foot stick, but if we don’t go, they’ll send someone out here to find us and disrupt our world. I’m so sorry.” Something about her family interfering in her and Seret’s affairs makes Lysandra boil like nothing else.

“It’s okay, my princess,” Seret murmurs into her hair, cupping the back of her head, rocking them back and forth. “We’ll go, I’ll tell them what they want to know, we’ll come right back here. It will only be a few hours. Their opinion won’t change how I feel about you, but I’ll do whatever you feel is best.” The sorrow in Seret’s tone implies too much.

Lysandra pulls back. “Don’t you ever think I’d leave you for my family. Right now, I’m thinking much the opposite.”

Seret purses her lips. “What objection would they have to me? The whole valley seems to like me, why wouldn’t they?”

“You’re not a noble, you don’t have a title, you have nothing to offer them, you won’t even tell anyone where you’re from, and you’re the lover of their middle child.”

Her voice is bitter, matching her heart. Seret’s arms tighten protectively around her. Lysandra switches from bitterness to anger to guilt in a second. How dare her family do this to them? What makes them think they have this right?

They control Vashiri Valley, but Lysandra can’t remember the last time they appeared in public, and their power is distant at best.

They control Vashiri Valley, but they can’t control her.

“No matter what they say,” Lysandra says into Seret’s chest, “I am never leaving you. You’ll have to pry me away. Whatever polite, diplomatic accusations or insults they throw at you, ignore them. You don’t have to tell anyone, especially them, about yourself. You’re with me because I love you, and that’s all we care about. Okay?”

“I’m not sure I’m the one who needs reassuring, Lysandra.”

“Shut up. I’ll be fine.” She pulls back from warmth to wipe her eyes, hot shame from crying coating her face, but Seret pulls her back in.

“There’s no shame here,” she whispers, kissing Lysandra’s temple. “Comforting you is my pleasure, though I wish you didn’t have a reason to cry. Everything’s going to be okay, my princess.”

Lysandra breathes.

She wears the gown she wore when she and Seret met, soft pink with a low neckline, tiered ruffles reaching down to her ankles, frilly short sleeves. Maybe familiarity will give her some comfort, whether that’s Seret’s hand on her thigh or this dress pinching her arm.

Seret wears the same black slacks, white shirt, and black jacket she always wears, thoroughly combs her hair, but leaves the hat at home.

At the dinner, she is perfect. she speaks only when spoken to, sits with that straight, enviable posture, praises the food like it’s the substance of heaven itself, the best she’s ever had.

She’s gracious, thankful, answers every question they ask. If she had a title, Lysandra knows her family would be simply begging them to marry.

Things start out pleasant, her family treating Seret with the polite, arm’s length attitude Lysandra expected. Finally, the dreaded question comes.

“So, Seret,” Lysandra’s mother asks, folding her hands, “where are you from?”

Lysandra clutches her necklace, the one Seret gave her, and prays. Please don’t let them be the first ones you tell. They don’t deserve that.

Seret smiles. “This soup is delicious, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, thank you, you’ve said so already.” Her mother is reaching the end of her patience—Lysandra has been on the other end of that short patience dozens of times. Her blue feathered hat and perfect red lips cover up a much nastier woman. “Please tell us about where you live.”

“Well, Lysandra and I have been living next to the forest all summer. The fields there are positively peaceful, you should visit them sometime.” She pauses to let horror sink into the hearts of luxury groomed royals. Lysandra bites down on a smile. “But I am technically still renting an apartment in the city.”

“Where you came from,” Lysandra’s father adds, sharp, on the end of his patience as well. Lysandra wonders how much Seret prepared for this. Seret is smart, she must’ve known she couldn’t wiggle her way out of the question with her usual tricks. “Maybe who your parents are.”

Seret appears to consider the question. “I’d rather not say,” she says, stirring her drink with her spoon. Silence falls onto the room. Lysandra holds her breath.

Her mother nods her head tightly. “Very well. In that case, we’re going to have to insist you stop seeing our daughter.”

Seret bows her head in humble acceptance, but Lysandra stands up, every fiber of her being filling with inexplicable rage. She told herself she wouldn’t display a reaction, she would just accept the denial and then ignore it, like Seret will, but hearing it so frankly from her mother’s lips is different from imagining it.

“You don’t have the right to tell me who I can and can’t see just because you feel like it,” she spits. “I’m an adult. I haven’t lived here full time or done the duties you ask of me for years. You should disown me. Save yourselves the trouble of dealing with me any longer.”

Seret’s hand lands firmly on her knee as if to say no, don’t. Lysandra captures her hand and holds it above the table for the whole family to see.

“You’re the one who chose to come here,” Lysandra’s mother says.

“Yes, because I knew you’d hound us if we didn’t.” Lysandra can feel her chest being ripped open from the top down. Seret’s fingers squeezing hers is the only thing tethering her to herself. She pulls tightly on Seret’s fingers, who takes the hint and stands. They walk out without another word, without a glance back.

When they get back to the cabin, Lysandra sinks onto the couch in their living room face first, and immediately begins to cry. The seconds it takes for the door to click and Seret’s boots to march across the wood are far too long, until warm arms wrap around Lysandra’s back and Seret buries her nose in the back of her hair. “I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, which only makes Lysandra sob harder.

“I don’t know why it still matters. I knew this was exactly what they’d say. I didn’t want it to affect me. I want to move on from them.”

Seret stays quiet, just letting Lysandra exist and holding her through it. They don’t speak about it again.

Things are different after that. The fields and the cabin have been tainted with mere mention of the royal family’s presence. The spell has been broken.

The wind comes less, the sun seems to burn in a way it didn’t before. Lysandra doesn’t treasure dawn and dusk the way she used to, and baths are just baths. The only thing that hasn’t lost its magic is Seret, as kind and loving as always.

A week later, Seret begins taking trips into the city to gather everything from her apartment and bring it to the cabin, everything of Lysandra’s from Wynn’s cottage.

No matter how many times Lysandra offers to help, Seret insists she’s fine, she doesn’t want Lysandra to come into the city and get hounded and harassed by the usual people dying to meet the princess.

Arlin and the others come to visit a few times to keep her company while Seret’s gone, to speak about the upcoming Academy year, their last year, to learn the place Lysandra disappeared to the entire summer.

She’s happy to see them, happy for the company, but her heart never stops aching for Seret, wondering what she’s doing. Arlin and the boys stay for dinner well after Seret’s back, so she’s never given a moment alone to think.

This continues for a month.

Arlin and the boys become as intimately familiar with the cabin, the fields, the river, and the forest as Lysandra was with Wynn’s cottage on the forest’s other side.

Lysandra flies toward the end of summer in a haze, perpetually afraid to break the peace, shatter the dream, feel the cold seep into her bones once more. She has grown so used to the wind in her hair, the sun on her skin, the safety of Seret’s arms and her soothing voice.

Seret is never too loud, never jarring. Seret seems to float on the wind; sometimes her mind is lost to Lysandra as she stares into the sky at nothing.

Seret is—

Seret is many things. Nothing at all. Everything all at once.

Ineffable.

On what Seret says will be her last day of moving, she kisses Lysandra’s cheek and says, “I’ll be back,” like always. Lysandra thinks that’s rather silly—of course she’ll be back, that’s a given—but it’s sweet.

Arlin and the boys won’t be over since they have to collect their books for school in two weeks and otherwise prepare. Lysandra spends the day in the river, letting the water suck all the thoughts from her head.

By the evening, as Lysandra waits on the porch with dinner ready, Seret is still not back.

She probably got held up with the loading carts she’s been using, Lysandra tells herself as she gathers her shawl, puts on a dress fit for the town’s eyes, and begins the long walk there. She stopped to have dinner, or something. Maybe she met Wynn’s dragonlings at last.

Seret would’ve run back here herself to tell Lysandra she wouldn’t be back until later because of the dragonlings, or she would’ve sent a magical letter, or something. Seret has told her over and over how much she hates to see Lysandra in pain, and how she’ll never, ever be the cause of even the slightest worry.

Dread sits heavily in Lysandra’s chest.

The area near the school is in chaos, looking for her. No one she meets will tell her what’s going on, why they refuse to meet her eyes, why they offer faint smiles in place of explanations.

When Lysandra is shown the rooms in the Academy Seret broke into, the bizarre circles drawn on the floor in chalk, the thick books lying open, the blood splattered all over the floor, and finally, Seret’s body lying on the floor with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes closed, Lysandra falls to her knees and doesn’t get up.

Her entire being is shattered with a force she didn’t know existed, with waves of invisible pain too strong for this realm. Everything feels empty and quiet, but not quiet in the serene way of Seret’s.

She screams, and it rips her open. It rips every part of good out of her and replaces her with numb, muffled, faint feeling. Later the waves of pain will come back, the longing for Seret’s warm arms to wrap around her and make everything all better, but now, she’s able to look at the body with only thin trails of tears streaming down her face.

Seret’s white shirt is soaked through with a circle of bright red blood. The whole scene is almost unreal. If not for the blood and the cold feel of her hand, Lysandra’s Seret Ashling looks the same. Her hair is neatly arranged, her face free of the splattered blood.

Death is too simple a word for what happens to Seret.

She is gone, says a voice, Seret’s voice, her smiling face haunting Lysandra behind her closed eyes. The ghost of Seret’s fingers cup her jaw, stroke her cheekbones, brush soft lips over her forehead, push her spectacles up.

I love you, my princess, Lysandra hears when she touches her ear to the floor, soaking the front of her dress with her blood, such a cruel reminder of Seret’s humanity. She was brutally, unfortunately, unbelievably human. She may have reached beyond this realm to grab a fist of love for Lysandra, a greater capacity than any human could hold, but that couldn’t save her from her own humanity.

I’ll be back. Seret’s last words to her.

She wasn’t just going into town to move.

Lysandra clutches the necklace Seret gave her and squeezes until it hurts. It fits easily in her palm, hangs right over her heart. The death of Seret Ashling is going to hit Vashiri Valley like the rare storms, unforgiving and violent, bringing destruction that takes years to recover from.

Lysandra squeezes the necklace, closes her eyes, and breathes slowly, steadily. The storm will wipe her out faster and harder than anyone else, but she’s the one who has to control it singlehandedly, and that will be about as easy as trying to capture an actual storm from the ground.

She won’t survive this, but she’s known for months that if anything ever happened to Seret, she never would. She can only submit to the darkness—the bad kind, this time—awaiting her, return to reality behind this door.

#writing #writeblr #my wip #my writing #fantasy writing #fantasy writeblr #fantasy #lila's wips: dosa #bean's excerpts #lila's short stories

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sxfterhearts · 5 years ago

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37. [10:14 pm]

➳ pairing: yugyeom x reader

➳ genre/warnings: fluff with a sprinkle of suggestiveness ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), established relationship!au

➳ word count: 1,280 words

➳ summary: 37. “Can I kiss you?”

➳ author's note: for the lovely 🌻!! i sincerely hope that this will give you some ~feels~ and that it can act as a little mood booster for the upcoming week! i listened to a lot of ‘got7 but you’re in a car and its raining’ yt edits, which i’ve linked down below. thank you for always supporting me honey! ❤️

➳ music rec: ♪

You scrolled through the playlist labelled “2am drives” on your boyfriend’s Spotify, lips pursed together in deep concentration. You were spoilt for choice, seeing as both of you shared such a similar taste in music. The sound of rain and thunder beyond the comfort of his beat-up Honda was a suitable accompaniment to the cosy ballad you chose, the tunes uniting in a charming harmony that pleased and soothed your ears. As you busied yourself with filling up the queue, Yugyeom sneakily threw his arm around your shoulders, coaxing you to come closer, to lay closer on his warm body.

Your boyfriend was good at a lot of things. Dancing was a prime example, and making mixtapes was another. He seemed to be gifted in just about anything, especially everything to do with making you laugh. Being sneaky, however, was something he was not gifted at, at all.

His other hand messed around with his laptop, setting up the movie he downloaded earlier for the two of you to watch. You had initially suggested Princess Diaries to him in the hopes that you would be watching it on your couch over Netflix Party after a long, tiring week at university, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a generous serving of ice cream. You were fully prepared for the virtual date night – you cooked yourself a proper dinner – the first one this week, pampered yourself with a moisturising mask pack and even put on your favourite polka dot pyjamas. What you weren’t prepared for, however, was for your boyfriend to turn up at your front door, all giddy smiles and goofy gestures, urging you to join him on a late-night drive, destination nowhere.

In the months you had spent as Yugyeom’s girlfriend, you slowly began to accept your new life motto of “Expect the Unexpected”. Things never really go as planned when your Gentle Giant was around, and especially if his Thai best friend was also involved.

Which is exactly why you did not make a big fuss when your boyfriend tugged you out of your apartment and drove you into the rainy Seoul night. In fact, you gladly welcomed it. The past few days had been heavy, after all, and your heart’s battery needed to recharge by being around Yugyeom. As cheesy as it sounds, any time spent with your boyfriend was time well spent, regardless of whether the dates were planned weeks in advanced or sprung up on you via text as he left his dorm.

Once you were satisfied with your song choices, you shifted a little in his arms to face him and was pleasantly greeted by your favourite side profile in the world. His tongue poked out of his glistening lips while his nose, high and sharp, scrunched up cutely as he played with the settings. Your fingers yearned to trace along his arched browbone, down to the apples of his cheeks, pinching the tip of his nose before finally settling on the strong edge of his jaw. Perhaps you’d even steal a kiss from his lips.

Yugyeom emitted a victorious “Yes!”, barely audible above the pitter patter of the rain. “All set! We are ready to discover the wonders of Genovia with Her Royal Highness, Princess Tia.”

“Her name is Mia, not Tia.” You couldn’t help but to giggle at his mix-up.

His entire body shook as he laughed, eyes squeezing together in mirth. You scooted even closer to the boy, longing to be close enough to feel his skin against yours with absolutely no gaps in between; longing to feel his every movement and every breath. “Ah, I’m never good with English names!”

Yugyeom’s finger moved the cursor towards the play button, but you quickly halted his actions by placing your hand on top of his. “Wait, not yet.” You paused him. “Can we just sit here for a while?” Your voice was reduced to nothing but a whisper.

Yugyeom hummed in agreement, his chest vibrating against your back. The sensation was oddly comforting.

For a few moments, you simply closed your eyes, soaking in the affectionate warmth provided by Yugyeom’s embrace, listening to the music playing softly from the radio, remixed with the ambient rain falling onto car’s windows and the rhythmic beating of two connected hearts. He moved the laptop out of the way as gently as possible so that he could bring his other arm around your smaller, precious figure, completing the hug he couldn’t but would’ve gave you if he was beside you this past week.

Nothing else could compare to Yugyeom’s hugs, you concluded. The moment you felt the gentle pressure of his kiss against your hair, you were certain all the pent-up fatigue and frustration left your body and evaporated into thin air. A trembling breath left your lips. You were so secure, so filled with love that it was threatening to spill over.

“Better?” He mumbled with his chin resting upon your head.

The thumb that was rubbing slow circles against your forearm was distracting, hypnotising. Your words failed you. Instead, you opted to turn towards him with your chin angled upwards, a silent, telepathic Can I kiss you?

Yugyeom craned his head downwards, his lips meeting yours halfway. The kiss was soft and gentle at first, just two lovers greeting each other after days apart. Then came the playful nips at your bottom lip and teasing licks of your front teeth. It was hard to resist a giggle or two, which Yugyeom definitely used to his advantage by swiftly and expertly swooping into well-explored territory.

Every single fibre of your being rejoiced as your tongues danced a familiar tango. Better, you conveyed through heated kisses and insistent tugs of his hair, so much better.

You squealed in surprise when you felt his cold fingers travel under your pyjama bottoms, caressing your love handles. You could tell where this was going, and you were more than happy–

Until Yugyeom’s cursed ringtone pierced through the air. Your movements faltered, the rational part of your brain registering that there was only a small handful of people who would call your boyfriend at this hour. Yet, Yugyeom persisted, trailing down your jawline towards your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses and kitten licks in its wake.

“Yug–”

“Shh.” He shushed you immediately, his teeth grazing against delicate skin.

“Wait, it could be–” You were promptly cut off when Yugyeom nibbled and sucked, hard. The high-pitched whine that left your mouth was completely involuntary. “Could be important, baby. Maybe it’s Jaebeom oppa.”

Yugyeom groaned at the shrilly ringtone. Reluctantly, he peeled himself away from your neck and fished his phone out of his pocket. With a huff, he swiped across the screen to pick up the damned call.

“Yugyeom, finally! Listen, I worked out the final part of the song. We’ll use the same melody from the previous chorus but change the last two words of the sentence.”

“Great, hyung, hooray.” Yugyeom deadpanned. You smiled while poking his side, reprimanding him for being sarcastic and borderline rude to his senior.

“What’s with that tone, Kim Yugyeom? That’s not how you-”

“Hyung…” He whined into the phone. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. Thank you for figuring out the song, I’m just, you know, busy at the moment.”

“Oh, did I interrupt something? Is Y/N there? Wait, you know what, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know what you two lovebirds are up to. I’ll hang up, bye.”

“Bye, hyung.” Yugyeom said even after the line went dead. He tossed his phone onto the front seat before turning to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now, where were we?”

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voltage-vixen · 4 years ago

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Fandom: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder (Voltage) Pairing: Koichi Samejima x MC (Female) Note: So this turned out way longer that I had anticipated. 😅 I apologize in advance for the length. I also wanted to say thank you for requesting this because I love the mob babies and would love to see more content for them!

Koichi Samejima:

· Even though Samejima has already taken you on a countless number of dates, he treats every single one like the first time since he cherishes the time you get to spend together.

· Samejima would never let on to it, but he’s actually very excited for each of your your dates to the point where he’s spent hours upon hours researching only the most suitable dating destinations to take you to.

· The night before he’s up all night anxiously planning out topics of conversation, what type of flowers he’s going to present you with and rehearses different topics of talking points to avoid any potential lag in conversation.

· The day of your date Samejima promptly arrives ten minutes early. When you open the door his first impression is that you look absolutely breathtaking. He would quickly avert his gaze away to avoid blushing as he mumbled out a compliment and shoved the bouquet of flowers into your hands.

· Once you finished placing the bouquet of flowers safely into a vase, Samejima laces his fingers between yours and pulls you out the door as the date officially begins while he leads you.

· His pace is set to match yours, and Samejima gives your hand the occasional squeeze as the pad of his thumb traces the lines of your fingers.

· Despite having reservations at a nearby couple’s café to share a bite of the newest mystery parfait Samejima booked after seeing you longingly eye an advertisement for, he decides to take a detour through the park since he knows how much you always revel in the sights and sounds of the alluring scenery.

· The moment you two step foot into the park, Samejima’s shoulders drop in relief as you break into a soft smile at the sight of the flowers blooming tall near the grand fountain in the center of the plaza.

· “We still have some time to spare before our first stop. Would you like to take a closer look?”

· Without a care in the world that the two of you are out in public, you vigorously shake your head up and down and race over giddy to admire the view of the flowers up close.

· Samejima chuckles while approaching you. He’s captivated by the way your eyes seem to be twinkling even brighter than usual.

· The young mobster finds his hand drawn to the side of your cheek. His gentle touch leaves you yearning for more.

· You abandon the flowers to rise to your feet, leaning into the warmth of Samejima’s embrace. He delicately tucks the curls of your hair behind your ear.

· Your dress is swaying in the light wind, and the cool breeze brushes against the heat of your cheeks as you await to welcome Samejima as he inches closer to your face.

· Closer and closer, the distance between your bodies begins to fade away. You’re lost in his alluring gaze-the scene so perfect it could only be described as one found in a fairytale movie.

· You part your lips ready to connect with Samejima until-

· “JASMINE, COME BACK HERE!”

· The all-too-familiar voice of Inui loudly booms across the park, forcing Samejima and you apart as the once ambient environment was now replaced with frantic shouting and loud barking as Inui chased after a playful Jasmine who had decided that she was going to take her own ‘walk’ today.

· “You, idiot!” Your boyfriend yells, sighing in disbelief at both how stupid Inui was and for having his precious alone time with you interrupted.

· “Now is not the time, we have to help him!” You shout. Before you even have the chance to react, you feel a heavy weight crash into you, followed by a big SPLASH that rings into the air.

· Jasmine had come tumbling into you and knocked you straight into the fountain!

· You don’t even have an opportunity to lift your head up from underneath the chilliness of the water, because you immediately find yourself being pulled out and wrapped into the recognizable arms of Samejima.

· He cuddles you close to keep you warm, and you eagerly nuzzle against his chest. His expression is coated with concern, and his eyes flash to ask if you are okay. You give a small nod to reassure him and are about to thank him for rescuing you when Inui’s voice breaks in from the background.

· “Princess, are you alright? I’m so so so so so so so so so sorry!”

· Inui is about to reach out towards you, but Samejima doesn’t hesitate to smack it away.

· “You’ve done enough for today. I’ll deal with you later.” Samejima coolly replies, before turning around to head back to your place.

· He can’t recall the last time he’s ever been this upset and he’s shaking on the inside. Truthfully, he wants nothing more than to attack Inui, but his main priority is getting you home and drying you off before you catch a cold.

· On the way home, you can tell Samejima is upset by the stoic expression on his face. You want to comfort him and let him know you truly are fine, but you’re surprised to find you are already back at your apartment.

· He carefully places you down on the couch, then he leaves for the bathroom to run you a nice hot bath.

· Although he tried to hide it, you still caught a glimpse of the disappointment in his face. Samejima was always so hard on himself despite your constant reminders of how fortunate you were to have him as a boyfriend.

· There was no doubt in your mind that Samejima was stewing in the bathroom and blaming himself for today’s unfortunate mishap.

· You swiftly rise from the couch and join him in the powder room where you see him staring blankly into the now full tub.

· You rush into the room behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, encompassing him tightly into your grasp.

· “No matter what it is we do, or where it is we go, I can always count on having a good time when I’m with you. I love you and I love spending time with you. Even if we lived in a box together, you would still be number one in my heart.”

· Your lips press trail light kisses onto his back until he turns around and cradles your chin with his hands.

· “It’s not that I don’t feel the same way, but I can’t help but wanting to ensure perfection when I’m around you. Thanks for helping me understand that you accept me as I am….though you really should raise your standards if you would find living in a box suitable.”

· You playfully tap his chest and scoff in a feigned annoyance. Samejima sneaks in for a tickle attack and then stealthy reaches for the buttons on the fabric of your top to unfasten them while you’re distracted from the onset of giggles from being tickled.

· “Take off your clothes otherwise you’ll get sick. I would hate to see you in that state.”

· Locking your eyes with his, you draw your hands up to assist his with your top and seductively bat your eyelashes.

· “Only if you join me.”

· Those words elicited a stunned gasp from your boyfriend. This wouldn’t be the first time you two have bathed together, but each time Samejima’s reaction is boyishly innocent and you find it becomes more adorable as time goes on.

· Although Samejima is bashful, he’s also never turned down an invitation from you and today wasn’t about to mark the start of that.

· He nods his consent and the pair of you explore the surface of each other’s body as you help each other undress.

· You climb into the heat of the water together, sighing in content to finally be infused with warmth.

· Samejima settles you between his muscular thighs as your head naturally falls back onto his chest.

· While Samejima appears lean, his body is cut in all the right places and you find yourself nestling deeper into him as his fingers masterfully massage your scalp.

· Drowning in feelings of Samejima’s affections, your body succumbs to his caresses and you find yourself melting into him.

· It doesn’t matter whether you stay in or go out, a date with Samejima is exactly that-a date with Samejima. Any time with him is well spent and a beloved commodity you wouldn’t give up for anything in the world.

#kissed by the baddest bidder #koichi samejima #kbtbb samejima #kbtbb headcannon #voltage inc #kbtbb fanfic #voltage headcannon #voltage fanfic #love 365 #also tumblr keeps messing with the formatting for this and i don't know how to fix it so sorry about that!

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z-iridest · 5 years ago

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Can you do hawks and todoroki reaction to meeting their s/o for the first time after months of long distance online dating🙇🏾‍♀️🙇🏾‍♀️🌸

(A/N: This is such a cute idea! :3 Hope u don't mind headcannons again)

Online, Long Distance Dating: First Time Meeting In Real Life

Shouto Todoroki

To be fair, Shouto Todoroki hadn't even known what Instagram, or any other social media platform even was besides Facebook.

When he was first introduced to Instagram, the account made for him by his friends, he had instantly gained 1 million followers almost overnight. (He says it's only because of his father, but c'mon, ladies, he's just that hot)

The account posts page is filled with tagged, sneaky pictures from his friends, all of them adorable, pictures of soba, his mother (totally appreciation posts for Mamaroki) Fuyumi and Natsuo

But, one follower of his in particular caught his herochromatic eyes.... Y/N L/N. They had liked every one of his posts since day one, always leaving a friendly "hello" in the comments or leaving a comment about how wonderful his family seemed to be. If only Shouto knew just how whipped he was about to be....

The specific post that started it all popped up in his feed one fateful day was a picture of you that had been taken at the perfect moment. Your h/c floated in the breeze, your e/c shut as you were caught in an open mouthed laugh, Shouto finding your smile to be not only infectious, but bewitching. Yet, he yearned to hear what your laugh sounded like.

Before he knew what the hell he was even doing, he had -How would his friends put it?- slid into your dms, saying hello.

Since you lived in America (and were a light sleeper on top of being a slight insomniac), you weren't expecting a dm before the sun could wake up, so the minute your phone went off with a notification, you nearly fell out of bed due to the earbuds in your ears... That notification was LOUD!

When you looked at the message, it was from DamnIcyHot (that username was all Bakugo) and read: Hello, I'm Shouto. You looked beautiful in your recent post, and I thought you deserved to hear that. I hope you have a wonderful day

You blushed and that dm... Well, let's just say it wasn't the last.

Just two months after talking to you, Shoto asked you out.... On a video call, dressed in a tux with a red tie, and holding a half white and half red rose. (Pic above, folks)

Poor baby is so nervous, he's shifting and fixing his tie every few seconds and it's all you can do not to start squealing.

Y/N... I never thought it was possible to fall in love with someone I have yet to meet in real life, but, I have. I've fallen hard for you, Y/N. Everytime I see you post, it brings me so much joy and makes me smile everyday, and... I don't want it to ever stop. Y/N, I want to be able to video call you every night, to tell you how beautiful and perfect you are in my eyes until you fall asleep. I want to be able to see you every night and wake up to your beautiful face every morning. If I may have this chance, I promise, you will be treated like the princess you are, and I will never let you forget how precious you are to me.

The poor, half white, half red haired baby is now stumbling over his words as a blush darker than the red half of his hair appears on his face. Y/N... I was wondering... Would you... Maybe... want to be mine?

You had blushed and hidden behind your hands, a sight that Shouto still remembers as the cutest thing you've ever done, and nodded in response. If you had dared looked up, you would have seen the relieved look on his face as a laugh, a genuine laugh of relief, spills from his lips.

And that was only the beginning...

It only took a couple days before his friends noticed that their herochromatic eyed friend was acting a bit... Stranger than usual.

He was grumpier on certain days, happily smiling down at his phone, excusing himself to go to his room for hours on end.

Nobody knew what was going on, or why he was on his phone so much.

Kaminari had suggested spying on Todoroki, but Izuku had gone with a more... Direct approach.

When asked why he was on his phone so much, Todoroki had just blinked and said matter of factily, I have an S/O. The whole class, except for Yamomo, is shocked by this. This one of those, "I thought it was obvious" moments for Yamomo.

Speaking of Yamomo, she asks who the lucky person is. Instead of answering her, Shouto shows her the screenshot he unashamedly took of you.

In the screenshot, you're sporting a bright smile, e/c eyes filled with adoration and love, the look you had given him before calling him your Peppermint Baby for the first time, that baby boi was soooooo flustered by it. (What? He couldn't help it, it was too cute of a moment to let pass). The girls instantly squeal and ship you two together while some of the boys (*cough, cough* Kaminari and Mineta *cough*) are wondering how the hell you guys had even gotten together.

That same night, he called you and told you about the day's events, which honestly had you in fits of laughter.

Shortly after that, you were informed that you were being moved to Japan. Were you excited? Yes! You get to meet your boyfriend face to face for the first time, you were nervous and excited at the same time.

Did you tell him? Nope. You were waaaaay too giddy with the thought of how surprised he would be to see you.

Since you were being moved to Japan, that meant being transferred into U.A. High. Your Class being 1-A.

Shouto was talking to his friend group when you arrived, and thankfully for you, his back was to the door.

A green haired boy was the first to see you, his green eyes going a little wide while his friends were unawares, discussing who the new student could be.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, you quickly put your finger to your lips, silencing him.

Thankfully, the Broccoli Boi gets the hint and schools his features before his friends can notice.

You quietly tip toed until you were directly behind him.

Covering a giggle, you covered his herochromatic eyes with your hands.

The second his eyes were covered, he jumped

Just as he was about to react, he read an all too familiar voice. "Hiya, Peppermint." It couldn't be....

Hands trembling slightly, he gingerly took hold of your hands and turned around, surprised to see a pair of e/c eyes looking back at him. "Y-Y/N?" You were so much more goregous in person....

"Surprise!" You giggled before you felt his arms wrapped tightly around you, a laugh leaving you as your feet left the ground as he picked you up, slightly spinning you before setting you down.

"Is this the girl you were telling us about, Todoroki?" A girl with big brown eyes and floating brown hair asked. The excitement in Shouto's eyes was evident as he finally turned to his friends, realizing you from his hug but still keeping his arm wrapped around you.

"Ururaka, Iida, Midoriya, this is my s/o, Y/N. Y/N, meet my friends Midoriya, Ururaka, and Iida." Shouto introduced you to his friends first. Iida's loud greeting captured the attention of your fellow classmates, and pretty soon, you were surrounded by a bunch of new friends.

It took a while for the excitement to die down, but when it finally did and Shouto finally got you alone, you suddenly found his lips on yours. Your first official kiss with Todoroki... Scratch that, your first one ever.

You found out that day that the Peppermint nickname you had given him... It was well deserved. That boy's lips tasted like sweet peppermint, and his kiss had been so gentle but passionate at the same time, it had taken your breath away.

Let's just say you guys shared a lot of firsts after that..... ;)

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

Hawks? On Instagram? Bitch, please...

This motherfucker is always on Instagram when off duty or taking a break from hero work. He's the number 2 hero now for crying outloud, like he's gonna just ignore the fans that hit him up?

The Instagram he uses for his hero work is officialhawks, set up by his management that he visits every once in a while. That's the one the fans usually float to, and when fans dm, that's when he goes on it.

His personal Instagram, though? That's where the fun really begins.

His personal Instagram? Spice-E-Wings

Only follows a select few on it, and honestly, it'd be a lie if he said he didn't follow Endeavour's accout...

When your profile popped up under his suggested, he got curious....

Seeing as curiosity killed a cat, but never a bird, he satisfied his curiosity by checking out your profile.

Dis Bird Boi was not prepared for what he found.... And he instantly wanted to dm you...

Since you were used to your phone not going off, you were startled when your phone went off. Your roommate, who had seen you jump, teased you about it, to which you simply waved them off as you unlocked your phone to check the messages

Spice-E-Wings? What kind of a username was that?

Nevertheless, you accepted the message and saw this:

Hey there, wyd? ;) Jk, how r u?

The conversation started from there and took the most random turns, eventually turning into you two trying to one up each other on memes

He revealed who he was about a month after talking to you.

You... freaked... out....

You'd been talking to the Hawks the whole time?! Hawks was the one pro hero you had a crush on!

Just months later, on your bday, he asked you to be officially his.

Hey, dove, I gotta be serious here, okay? I really, really like ya, and I wanna get to know ya better. So, with that in mind.... U wanna be mine?

You have never squealed so loud in your life.... Once you were composed, you accepted.

The minute he saw your dm back, his heart exploded, ngl: Only if I get to call you my baby bird ;)

Month after month, it was like the two of you had an unexplainable chemistry despite never seeing each other in real life. Every morning started for you with a G'mornin princess 😘 from Keigo, he never wasted the day when it came to showing you affection over the phone

Despite having never seen your face, Bird Boi was whipped for you.

Did he want to see what you looked like? Hell yeah! But, he knew just by talking to you all this time, that it wasn't something you were ready for.

Imagine his surprise when on his birthday, he received a picture....

When he opened it, it read Happy Birthday Baby Bird, featuring the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life! His jaw dropped a little, ngl

Those beautiful e/c eyes, your silky h/c hair... Don't even get him started on that bod of yours... That man could praise you like a goddess for hours if you'd let him

His message back to you after that picture?

😍😍😍 Best. Birthday. Ever.

About a year after the two of you started talking, you ended up being transferred to a different city to work.... 12 hours away from your hometown.... To the very same city Keigo patrolled and was responsible for!

Instead of surprising him, knowing he was a Pro Hero, you told him about what was happening and the day you were moving.

Keigo was beyond ecstatic when you told him. He was finally gonna see you in person!

I have an idea, princess, as soon as you're settled in, meet me at the cafè Leblanc. I'll treat you to some coffee jelly on my break.... Leblanc's got the best coffee jelly in Japan. I wanna see you in person, and the sooner the better.

You felt nervous, but agreed to a time to meet up at

When you moved about two weeks later, you moved into your apartment and found that your place was only about a 10 minute walk from the cafè Keigo mentioned.

Now... If Keigo wasn't whipped for you before....

He certainly was now.....

The minute he spotted h/c hair in the crowd, he moved up into the air, his amber eyes easily finding you in the crowd.

You were soooooo much more beautiful in person, and it made him extremely happy to see you.

But, all of a sudden, Hawks felt nervous... What would you think of him when you saw him in person? That baby bird watched over you from the skies until it was time to call it quits. When he finally got everything done, he flew back to the cafè, where you were still waiting for him

No backing out now, Hawks... That's your baby down there, go see them. No big deal.

The mental peptalk did nothing for him... His body wouldn't move...

After an hour, you were getting worried, your brow furrowed as your mind raced through the horrible things that could have happened to him. You decided to text him, Hey, where r u?

And what was this bird brained bastard's reply?

Look up, princess

When you did, you saw him. Big red wings, amber eyes, messy blond hair and all. You watched him as he gracefully glided to you despite his nervousness.

The look in his amber eyes was so soft, a look of pure, unadulterated adoration and love for you clear as day. He immediately wrapped his arms around you

"I'm so sorry I kept you waiting, princess... Forgive me?"

You answered by kissing him, threading your fingers through his soft blond hair as he held you close to him, his wings wrapping around you too. When the two of you pulled away, a goofy grin was smiled before the first of many dates at that cafè took place

His Instagram post that day consisted of a very adorable kiss over coffee jelly with the caption: Finders Keepers, and I found a keeper :3

(A/N: A big thank you to @prismaroyal and @sadistiks for helping me out with Hawks' part :3 hope you guys enjoyed!)

Taglist: @fakeanimefanntnt @lxvely-mha @bnhabookclub

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aphrodites-law · 6 years ago

Text

My Favorite

Trope: Soulmate marks. Twist: Lexa doesn’t have one. Clarke does.

6/7 - (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5)

~ The flower shop was closed when Lexa walked by it, which did nothing to calm her nerves. The sun was setting quickly, painting the path to the hotel in bright oranges. On any other night, Lexa would have stopped to appreciate it. Tonight, she knew that stopping also meant turning around and moping in her apartment alone.

She walked straight to the hotel, not once allowing herself to question what she was doing. She’d treated Clarke like a stranger - ghosted her, Anya had pointed out - and it was time to make amends. Clarke deserved an explanation - deserved to know why Lexa had pulled and then pushed. Even if Lexa knew it meant the end of any romantic future, she couldn’t delay its inevitability any longer. She walked inside the hotel and found no one behind the desk, which didn’t surprise her much. Jake apparently spent most of his time in the kitchen, where he left the door ajar in case someone rang the call bell.

Making her way toward the sitting room, Lexa felt herself grow more nervous. When she looked inside, the air almost seemed to shift. She found Clarke standing by the bookshelf, browsing or searching for a title in particular. She rand her index on the spines of the books like they were the most precious things to her, and Lexa knew they likely were. Had Clarke read everything already? Had she stocked the shelf herself?

“Hello,” she eventually croaked.

If Clarke heard her, and it was unlikely she hadn’t, she showed no sign of it. Lexa approached hesitantly, knowing that she deserved the silent treatment. She hadn’t answered Clarke for days, it was only fair Clarke would do the same.

“I’m sorry.”

Lexa watched Clarke put a book back on the shelf and turn around. She looked at her for a long time, until finally she nodded in acknowledgement. Then, she signed something at the same time she mouthed it:

Feeling better?

Lexa felt so embarrassed, and so lost. She shook her head.

Because of me? Clarke asked.

It was this that Lexa couldn’t bear to leave unanswered. She couldn't let Clarke believe she was to blame. It wasn't her fault she had pinned her hopes on her.

"No, never."

Clarke signed something that Lexa had come to understand meant, Why?

"Because I'm an idiot," she answered simply.

Clarke frowned. She signed something again, which Lexa understood as some version of asking for an explanation. She owed her as much.

"You have a mark," she finally said aloud.

Clarke didn't seem to find the revelation particularly surprising.

"And I don't," Lexa expanded with a lump in her throat. "Before that, I thought maybe there was something between us, or that there could be, but... I can’t be that person for you. The before person.”

Clarke leaned back against the bookshelf, her expression unreadable. Lexa didn’t know how to interpret the movement, except perhaps that Clarke knew there was more to the story. She was right, as always.

“I do want to be your friend,” Lexa said quietly. “You're so incredibly smart, and you’ve made me want… you’ve made me feel like I was enough. And I’m sorry about how I handled it; how I treated you. But I had hopes - selfish hopes that you could be more than that, and now I - I just need to recalibrate my heart. I need to crush those hopes, and then I promise I can be a good friend."

Lexa noticed that as she spoke, Clarke’s mask had fallen to reveal clear disappointment. Anger, even.

“Clarke?”

Clarke shook her head. I don’t want that.

“Don’t want to be my friend?”

Clarke signed something quickly, but the more she signed the less Lexa followed, and the more frustrated she became.

“I’m sorry, I can’t-“

Finally, Clarke approached Lexa and cupped her cheeks. With her heart in her throat, Lexa’s hands went to her wrists, stopping her.

“Don’t do this,” she pleaded. “You don’t want this. Any of it.”

Why? Clarke asked.

“People like me… the Markless… it’s not a life I’d wish on anyone. Doesn’t matter if the city is progressive or if its people are kind. It’s just ingrained in everyone to glance at the wrist, you know? And at the end of the day, in the back of their minds, I’m always going to be a ticking time bomb.”

Clarke shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. Lexa couldn’t remember anyone ever crying for her. Maybe it was selfish to cherish Clarke’s hold on her; like for once someone would not let go of her.

She covered Clarke’s hands with hers, knowing she had to make her understand. Perhaps there were feelings now, and strong ones on both sides, but one day fate would outweigh them.

“Did you know that when schedules went out at school, and parents learned my name, two kids were transferred from my class?” Lexa revealed quietly. “And I was expecting some caution, but... It hurts, Clarke. And it hurts anyone associated with me. You don’t want to go through that for… someone who’s not… someone you’re going to leave someday.”

Clarke took the last remark with a furious glare.

“No, I know you’d never do it purposefully. I know you’d be kind about it. The truth is I like you so much I’d let you break my heart, if that's - what you wanted from me. I'd take being happy with you for a day, even an hour. Even if it broke me, at least I'd know what others have. At least I wouldn't spend my life wondering, even if knowing would make it worse. I'd still make you the happiest I can.”

Lexa glanced at her lips, wondering if for this moment she could take what she wanted. Wondering if she could be selfish, just this night.

“But I don’t want to wake up everyday thinking, ‘Is this the day I lose you?’ I can’t keep making choices that break my heart.”

Clarke brushed her thumb against the back of Lexa’s hand, asking her to let go. Lexa was certain that when she did, Clarke would walk away. But, instead, she pulled up her sleeves and showed her wrists. At first, Lexa almost flinched. The baring of wrists was not a gesture that ever made her feel good. The again, it wasn’t ever meant for her.

Except...

“Your mark,” she trailed off in confusion. There was nothing on Clarke’s skin; not even the hint that she had ever had a mark there. But Lexa was sure she had seen it - and Raven had mentioned it too.

Lexa glanced up at her and then down again, holding one hand when Clarke nodded gently. It was not faded into her skin or even minuscule; it was simply gone. Erased like it had been as temporary as whiteboard marker.

“I don’t understand. You had a mark, you-“

Clarke nodded, increasing Lexa’s bewilderment.

“How... why?”

Clarke motioned to Lexa’s wrists.

“Mine?” Lexa showed her bare wrists, letting Clarke examine them tenderly.

It slowly dawned on Lexa what Clarke was implying, though allowing herself to believe it was another matter. “You...”

Clarke pressed two fingers against her throat.

“You lost your voice.”

Clarke nodded, then-

“When?” Lexa asked, breathless.

Clarke made a simple sign: Ten years old.

Lexa couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t hope; didn't dare.

“I… I had a mark, when I was a kid,” she shared. “I had someone.”

Clarke smiled shyly.

Lexa’s heart started beating faster, emboldened by dangerous hope. “That doesn’t mean... there are records of people with speech disorders who have soulmates. There are shapes and-“

Clarke cupped her cheek and nodded. I know.

At Clarke’s proximity, Lexa felt like the one who couldn’t speak aloud. She couldn’t comprehend any of it anymore. Could it be true? Could Clarke losing her voice have had an impact on Lexa losing her mark?

It was of no importance when she felt Clarke’s kiss, silencing the rush of thoughts with the softest brush of her lips. Lexa could hardly contain a tear, her hands so hesitant that she barely dared touch Clarke’s waist. This kiss couldn’t be compared to anything she’d felt before, not even close.

She pulled back and looked at Clarke, who reached for her hands and signed without looking away.

I want you, she said. She must’ve mouthed it as well, because Lexa could swear she had heard her, like the silent plea had been whispered in her ear, like she had been telling her for weeks and Lexa only recognized it now.

Do you want me? Clarke asked.

Lexa kissed her in response, this time with little caution. She had been cautious her whole life. She kissed Clarke like she wished she had after their date, following her lead until Clarke’s back hit the bookshelf and she gasped.

“I want you, I want you,” Lexa promised, and then again when she covered her jaw and neck with smaller kisses, trying to test how long she could make Clarke grin. She had yearned for something like this so many times, yet known it was not something she could allow herself.

Breathing fast, Clarke reached for her hand and entwined their fingers. She pulled Lexa out of the sitting room, up the stairs, and stopped in front of a door.

There, she kissed her again. It was no more than a tentative brush of lips that Lexa understood as a question. She looked into Clarke’s eyes and smiled, trembling just slightly when Clarke turned the old knob and the door opened. She claimed her lips once more and Lexa lost all train of thought.

Part 7

#clexa #clarke x lexa #f: my favorite

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anodyne-sunflower · 6 years ago

Text

Recover-Leon S. KennedyxReader

A/N: Because, who doesn’t want to shower with Leon. 🙃 A request, I hope you like, my dear. Hard to work around an apocalypse with certain topics haha. As always, using rookie Leon from the remake.

MOOD MUSIC: Recover by Ruelle

***

“Not exactly a five star, is it?” You glanced cautiously around the market, slowing your breath to a whisper as to not alert anything lurking about. There wasn’t much choice in your resting quarters these days, and you should count yourself lucky you even made it this far at all.

“No.” Leon grunted from the entrance, using all his strength to shove a couple of shelves in the form of a blockade at the door. He wasn’t fond of taking chances. Especially not after the first gas station he had the misfortune of visiting in this hell. “But, if you know a place close by, I’m all ears.” He sighed in relief when he was done, hands clapping together as he swept some of the dust and caked on blood from them. It made little difference in his appearance, and he grimaced at the smell coming from him. To think of all those years he took showers for granted, if the world ending was anything, it was humbling. “We should take a look around. Better to be safe.”

“Yeah.” You watched him sweep by you, his precious Lightning Hawk already drawn and ready to dispatch possible threats. He really was a cop, you mused. Rookie or not, he was one hell of a survivor, and you were certain you wouldn’t be standing here if not for him. To think it was only a few weeks ago when you first met, at the end of his gun no less. Thankfully, he wasn’t the trigger happy type, and that zombie yearning for your flesh soon found itself truly dead by his hands.

“Geez, what a mess...” The truck stop was rummaged and ransacked, broken bottles and entire food shelves thrown to the ground. It was clear people had stocked up here at the beginning of all this, and unfortunately for you both there wasn’t much in the way of a meal. At least you had grown accustomed to that disappointment.

“It’s all clear.” Leon came from around the aisle, gun once again holstered at his hip. He seemed relieved, knowing that his makeshift barricade could buy you both at least a few hours until a horde came crashing in. A mercy you hadn’t felt in quite some time.

“Well, I’ve got some good news for you.” You reached into a canister, waving around the last packs of jerky you managed to scavenge. “Hope you like dry meat.” You moved towards him, holding one of them out and gently pushing it into his chest. He grabbed it swiftly, a breath of a laugh escaping him at your quip.

“My favorite.” Leon spoke, sighing heavily at the thought of having to endure another less than savory dinner. “Take our wins where we can get them, right?” He began unpacking the item, ripping off a bite or two before he felt the loss of your presence. “Y/N?”

“Back here!” You called out to him, too focused on the facilities lining the wall of the backrooms. It wasn’t often either of you got lucky enough to find running utilities, but it seems this one was in good standing. For the time being, that is. “Check it out.” You turned the knob of the shower, happy to hear the creaks and squeals of the pipes as a stream of water came leaking out. It wasn’t strong by any means, but you were grateful the truck stop offered these amenities around here. “Looks like they paid their water bill, at least.”

“Yeah.” Leon glanced at it with a longing expression, no doubt equally tempted to douse himself clean from all the grime and blood he was covered in. The poor thing, you thought, knowing he was in worse shape than you. “It won’t last long. It’s tapping into the reserves down here.” He reached for the lagging flow of water, cringing when he felt the cool temperature it brought forth. “Ice cold.”

“Take our wins, right?” You offered him a tired smile, leaning against the wall as you watched him wash some dirt from his fingertips. It would be nice to manage one shower, considering it had been ages since your last.

“Go ahead and wash up. I’ll wait outside for you.” Leon pulled away from the shower, trying to be the gentleman you had come to learn he was. The man needed a bath as badly, if not more, than you did. It would be uncivil of you to expect him to remain in such a poor state for the sake of dignity. If it truly was the end of the world, what did any of that matter now.

“Wait...Leon-um...” You felt the rise of a blush on your cheeks, the sudden idea crossing your mind making you grow nervous with him. Would it be odd for you to suggest such a notion? Dignity really didn’t matter these days, that much was true, but now that you found yourself holding onto his arm and staring into those piercing blue eyes of his...all the bravery you felt slipped away. “Just,” You slowly released his arm, turning away awkwardly in consideration. It wouldn’t do either of you any good to waste more time here, so the argument pretty much presented itself. “Listen, the water isn’t going to last long, and we both know they’ll just keep piling up outside.”

He was quick to catch up, and you were thankful he got the hint of your suggestion from your rambling. For a moment, he looked intrigued, but that quickly faded to the courteous manner he normally treated you with. “I don’t know if I should-Uh...” Leon rubbed the back of his neck, momentarily glancing away from you as less than pure images began running through his mind. He wasn’t blind, after all. Your attractiveness wasn’t lost on him and while he certainly would’ve entertained the idea of asking you out prior to the virus, he wasn’t sure this was the logical next step.

“Look, we can sit and debate this all night or just get it over with.”

“Uh-...Okay.” He caved to the invitation, shrugging away his skepticism. You weren’t wrong, he found, and cold or not he missed the comforts of a shower.

“Okay.” You agreed, still trying to hide the obvious embarrassment you felt as you began undressing. This wasn’t how you pictured the night going, but somewhere in the recesses of your mind you were glad for it.

“I’ll turn away.” Leon swiftly pivoted on his boots, clearing his throat as he listened to the ruffle of your clothes and shoes coming off. He briefly wondered what you looked like, but he reminded himself of his wits and settled for removing his own dirty attire. Now wasn’t the time to be playing the pining fool, because that could likely spell a death sentence.

You let out a shaky breath, arms instinctively coming to cloak your chest from anyone’s view. It was cold in the room, and the water was no more relishing as it hit your body. The slow stream cascaded across your curves, enveloping you in what was possibly the worst shower you had taken in your life. But, count your blessings, right? Because, at least you felt the weight of the filth melting off your figure in a welcomed silence. Eventually, you grew used to it, and it was only when you heard his footsteps that you dared to open your eyes.

Immediately you made to look away, not wanting to ogle the officer that stood completely nude in front of you. If you were honest, he was the only sight worth seeing since this all started. You knew he was built beneath the uniform, but the visual of his muscles so exposed and on display...it left you flushed and wanting.

Leon was no better in his failed attempts to be a decent person and stare anywhere but you. But, no matter how hard he tried he’d find himself journeying back to your bare figure. There wasn’t much room to work with in this stall, and while he wished to give you space, he couldn’t exactly determine a decent way to do so.

“You can,” How childish you were acting. There was hardly any time to get a decent shower in, and here you were ruining the rare treat by covering up and worrying over a custom that barely held these days. “You can look, I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” You blushed at the last bit, knowing a handsome man like Leon had his fair share of women in the past. You even entertained the fantasy of dating him, but that was a long shot and something left for the day all of this ended and returned to normal. If it ever did.

He laughed softly at that, finally ignoring the shred of decency he was trying to muster by giving you space. In reality, he was grateful for your words. “If only it was under better circumstances.”

You smiled at his comment, realizing you had wished the same. If there was one positive thing you could take from the virus corrupting everyone around you, it was this. The natural way it broke down barriers and let two people become close in the span of a few weeks. After all, being saved by a complete stranger would create a bond unlike any other.

You gradually reached for his hand, fingers sweeping his palm when you tugged gently to pull him under the water with you. It was slowly losing its force, but you hoped it last long enough to enjoy this moment. “Here.” The water sprayed across Leon’s head, soaking his blond strands and slicking them back and away from his features. It brought out the blue in his eyes more, or perhaps, that was just the proximity of your wet bodies.

“Thank you.” Leon sighed, blinking as droplets swept down his forehead and over his face. He would’ve closed his eyes from the annoyance, but he was content with the view he had in front of him. You were no longer covering up, but were easily on display in all your bare glory for him. He probably should have made his attraction less obvious, but he couldn't ignore his more primal self from admiring you. Every detail, he took in. From the curve of your hips to the delicate way you ran your fingers through your dampened hair. Every action was deliberate with you, and he couldn’t help but watch as your hands caressed down your sides to wipe the particles of dirt away.

“Wait.” Leon reached forward, roughened fingertips tracing the edge of your hip bone where your thigh connected. There was a line of muck you had missed, and he was far too entranced by your movements to care if he crossed a line.

His touch made you stiffen in place, your eyes opening to glance up at him as he continued his path along your prickled skin. The heat of his palm was a welcomed change, and in contrast to the water it felt like heaven to you. You only hoped he wasn’t astute enough to notice how effortlessly you were affected by the sensation.

“Missed a spot.” He smiled cheekily down at you, hand moving to leave your skin he desperately wanted to continue touching. It was only when you promptly grabbed his hand, eyes steady and longing as they bored into him, that he opted not to move.

“Just a while longer.” You pleaded, missing the comfort of touch, his touch. It had been far too long since you felt such a way, and you couldn’t bear the thought of losing it so quickly all over again. “Please.”

Leon considered your appeal, lips parting as he released a breath and decided it was now or never. “Don’t worry.” He caressed you again, thumb brushing your waist as he leaned down. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***

Second part is in my Masterlist in my bio!

#leon s kennedy #leon #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s. kennedy fanfic #resident evil 2 remake

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celestialholz · 6 years ago

Video

youtube

Tony Bennett - Close Enough for Love (Audio)

... So I’ve seen y’all recently, with your lovely Qcard song suggestions, all of which are very valid and I adore you for them, but if you’ll allow to wade in, mes captaines, I’ll raise you: space jazz, on their anniversary, with a twist chucked in because it’s me. This was a date idea at one point for the side blog (come say hi to some galactic idiots over at @ask-q-and-picard, if you’re up for such things ^_^), but this narrative was far too sprawling, so here we are! Welcome to around a thousand words of softness, a sprinkling of angst, a side order of introspection, and a god who can’t dance to save his own immortal essence.

(This isn’t a songfic as such guys, but you’ll get the most from it if you have a listen to the above whilst reading, thematically as well as lyrically. Let Tony Bennett melt your soul with his deeply appropriate words and delightful voice. <3)

* Also, as promised, ma’am - @q-card, have fun with this cosmic romance!

“Left foot first, Q.”

“Dammit, Jean-Luc, I don’t -” His footsteps are automatically corrected, the movement vexingly smooth, and he barely represses a snarl at his lover’s grin.

“You’re omniscient, my dear - how can you be so awful at waltzing?” He queries, voice a teasing lilt.

Q sniffs haughtily, offended.

“You know how to have fun,” he points out dryly. “Hardly makes you a natural at it. I’m not used to coordinated movements, man - I just sort of... saunter, and everyone’s just naturally impressed.”

“That’s why I’m trying to lead you,” Picard exclaims patiently, tightening his grip as he encourages the god backwards, deliberately slowing their pace. “You’re improving, if it means anything.”

“How the hell did you -” He sucks in an unnecessary breath as he’s swept against that broad chest, sprinkle of salt and pepper hair so maddeningly concealed by a jet-black tuxedo. “Where the hell did you learn how to do this, anyway?”

“I’m French,” he says, as though that explains everything, or indeed anything at all. Q blinks, baffled.

“The waltz is Austrian, you entire -”

“European, then - it’s popular everywhere. Now, stop talking, will you?” Picard levels him with a stern exasperation. “It really doesn’t matter how poor your steps, Q - it’s all about the ambience.”

His deity grudgingly obliges, directing a glare to the old-school record player that rests off to their right; he snaps softly to restart the jazz track, attempting to absorb the steps as comprehensively as the words sink into falsely human skin, penetrate the entity thrumming in contentment beneath.

“You and I, an unmatched pair, took the time to touch, to share. Worlds apart the night we met, we braved the odds and won the bet...”

Gods, how long had he spent assuming this completely unattainable, this easy contact, the gentle heat now strewn through their acquaintance? Mere shards of cosmic time, but evocative of forever to a lonely, uninspired deity; a multitude of ultimately meaningless instances he’d tried so very hard to infuse with grander purpose, to express in a thousand universal languages that his beloved couldn’t hope to understand precisely what he couldn’t say…

His precious human had gotten there eventually, and as damned as he’d be to admit it aloud, it’s all the sweeter and warmer for the wait. He’d been expecting it to dull over the years, this calm sharing of his life, led in tender movements across the cosmic landscape; his captain is the introvert to his eccentricity, the tempered observer to his mischief-making, the mortal to his eternal: always quiet, always stalwart. Their ethics fail to align even now, and yet that silent yearning for adventure, to be more than they ought to be, continues to lead them as easily as Picard in their silly dance.

... It isn’t supposed to be so enchanting. His siblings think him quite mad, and perhaps he is, but he’d sooner tear the universe asunder than lack this wondrous connection.

“How old-fashioned, pure romance; shared a kiss, we shared a dance...”

They’re slowing down, he acknowledges vaguely, as though Jean-Luc Picard doesn’t lack enough haste as it is; he takes a brief moment to awkwardly rest his chin upon his lover’s scalp before they’re gently pulled apart by kinetic flow, and the human smiles up at him tenderly.

“See, you’re not so bad when you aren’t overthinking it.”

“Shame we can’t all be idiots,” he bites back harmlessly, smirking. Picard draws them apart just enough to roll his eyes at the tease.

“Oh do get off your high horse, mon dieu. At least I understand basic movements.”

Q laughs softly, steps lighter for the repetition through an advanced mind; he shifts snappily, avoids crushing a toe or two. It’s hardly conducive to the mood, after all, having to fix broken bones mid-routine, though it’s perhaps a more appropriate metaphor for their overall relationship than their now smoother performance.

The piece soldiers on blithely, suitably suave as a scene-setter.

“Not just lovers, more than friends - who knows where one starts and one ends? Tracing lights through sleepless nights that I’ll remember always, always…”

Q clasps their joined hand more firmly, so beautifully unified; their relationship has been the merest moment of his existence, yet it’s been more fulfilling than every fragment of the millions of years that have preceded it. He’s whole, finally, yet it’s all so very fleeting – all he’ll be left with within the blink of an eye is a frosted emptiness, colder than the space they occupy, and it’s enough to freeze him prematurely solid.

“Long goodbyes and tearful looks hold up well in poems and in books, but you and I have life to hold the greatest story never told…”

Live in the moment, you complete fool, he scolds himself silently, swaying elegantly now against his captain, hoping his sudden melancholy isn’t as visible as he fears it may be at Picard’s quizzical glance upwards.

“I can’t help but feel that anyone waltzing their way across the Magallenic Stream ought not to be so pensive,” comes the tranquil observation, grey eyes sporting a dash of worry, and the god allows a lightly bitter smile to coat human lips for a moment; a twenty light year-long dancefloor impossibly forms their stage, a flattened covering to the stellar river that connects the Milky Way to the vastness beyond stands as his grandiose anniversary gift, when all he longs to do is present him the universe on a silver platter.

“I hasten to remind you, mon capitaine, that you were quite content to do this in your quarters,” he points out in exasperation. “A tragedy, truly.”

A forehead meets his neck, their dance once more stilted to a simplified, vaguely rhythmic sway, and a gentle curl of a chuckle rises up in a vibration.

“Yes, well,” he mutters, “I’m rather unimaginative, as you’ve so enjoyed exclaiming for the past decade.”

A decade is nothing, less than, even. Why, then, does it feel like everything? He swallows ice, ripple running through his lover.

“It’s been a good decade,” he murmurs faintly. “Really quite an exceptional one, actually. The best, undoubtedly.”

Even fully versed in the linguistics of Picardian romance, he’s still evading the eloquent depth that comes so naturally to him.

The future’s for another day, not for tonight, he reminds himself sternly. We don’t ruin tonight, Q.

“The most wondrous,” Picard concedes warmly, “though I feel I’m at risk of seeming distinctly ungrateful. I’ve yet to give you a gift.”

Q can’t help a bark of disbelieving laughter – an absurd notion, honestly.

“Not sure what else you’re referring to the past ten years as,” he breathes, to a soft sigh.

“A gift to myself as much as to you,” he replies truthfully, and stars, he knows his Jean-Luc is a man of words, but must they always burn so delightfully? “No, I was thinking something far more… permanent.”

He doesn’t need to breathe, however biologically accurate his masquerade, though the absolute lack of oxygen that permeates open space suddenly seems a notable problem.

“… What?” It’s barely a blurted whisper, strangled by the purest hope and the deepest despair, because he can’t mean -

“You heard me,” Picard replies tenderly, and they’ve stopped dancing entirely now, though the embrace is no less fierce, the stare no less richly sincere. “I’ve been thinking on it, and… well, I’ve never been especially keen on the idea of ceasing to exist in the first place, and though forever is utterly incomprehensible to me currently, I believe it might not be so nightmarish –”

He doesn’t get any further for a good while; the breathlessness is spontaneously a problem shared and halved at the same time as they kiss, only the innate capacities of godhood keeping one of them alive.

“If you’ll have me, of course,” the captain adds eventually, the moment he’s freed, lips brushed rouge and eyes hazed, and by the galaxies if it isn’t the most precious thing a deity could ever hope to see; Q bursts into giddy laughter, runs a soft thumb down a smooth cheek, barely deigns to believe his own superlative good fortune.

“You really are stupid, aren’t you?” He answers, beaming, and he couldn’t mean anything less if it was bidden so by his own omnipotence.

“Well, if we’re speaking comparatively -”

“Hush, you wondrous being,” Q whispers, lips upon his cheek, and he’s never feel so desperately enamoured by anything, anyone. “Ambience, darling - jazz is restarting.”

“Ah. Of course.” Picard grins, and a god spontaneously decides that he’s going to spend the next ten decades weaving sonnets dedicated solely to this evening across the literature of space-time as they retake their stances, and he snaps fingers through a distinct visual blur.

... He isn’t going to cry. He’s a damned Q, however frighteningly unimportant that seems in the arms of the mortal he adores.

“Not perfect yet, but close enough for love...”

Omniscience will give an entity the knowledge of there being no such concept as karma, so perhaps it’s irony instead that has his learned skill fly instantly from his brilliant mind as he stumbles over thin air, before almost immediately straightening, tux magically unruffled, beloved human so dreadfully amused.

“Shut up, okay? I’m emotionally compromised, and frankly allowed to be. It’s my anniversary.”

Picard chuckles in utter warmth, and concedes the point - perfection has no place here, or wherever they will ever happen to be.

#wherein celestial loves her some goddamned jazz #qcard #q #picard #tng #writing #drabbles #this is their anthem guys #I'm sorry I don't make the rules #I have a serious kink for adorable picard right now and I'm living for it truly #kinkshamers don't interact

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multi-fandom-writer · 6 years ago

Text

the boy with the colors

part 3

Masterlist

taglist: open, just send me an ask! word count: 2.4k warnings: little bit of implied angst

“So how was the movie date last night?” Tom questioned both you and Harrison with a suggestive tone. He was smirking, his eyes were twinkling. Thanks to Harrison, you could now see the chocolate brown of Tom’s eyes. They weren’t Harrison’s intricate blues, but they were pretty in their own sort of way. Tom’s hair matched his eyes almost down to the hue, and while his skin wasn’t as dark as Harrison’s, it fit Tom.

Neither you, nor Harrison wanted to answer Tom, both of you wanting to keep the night to yourselves. It was a memory that was shared between the two of you. It would come to be the first thing on your mind when the colors were starting to fade. Harrison’s tan arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him, would come to be the only thing to pull you through the long night that would hit you like a truck. But, for now, you were unaware of the crisis that would come, and you were only wanting to keep the details of your special night to yourself.

Finally, Harrison broke the silence, “it was good.” It seemed as though he too wanted to keep last night his secret to share with you. If not for the goofy grin spread across his face, you might have held a hint of doubt that maybe he didn’t have a good time. But, when your soulmate’s eyes met yours, they seemed to lighten a few shades, and again, everything felt right with the world.

“Come on guys, I want details,” Tom whined, taking a sip of his coffee. Tom wouldn’t pry, he wasn’t the kind to be invasive and you knew this. It took you a minute to realize that Tom wasn’t trying to take away your secret, he was just looking out for his friend. Yes, Tom had developed a sort of trust for you. How could he not have - you were the one that advised him against doing some very stupid things in the past three days. While it was your job to keep an eye on him, quite literally, it was his job to keep an eye on Harrison.

The interaction was so small, so discreet, if you weren’t admiring Harrison, you would have missed it. The smallest shake of Harrison’s head told Tom everything he needed to know. The date was something that needed to be kept as a precious memory, not to be shared.

Something in Tom shattered at that moment. The reality of his situation crashed into like a wave in the ocean. Tom could see in color, meaning he had met his soulmate. He, however, was not jumping at the opportunity to talk about her. He wasn’t constantly checking his phone for messages from her. His eyes didn’t hold the same spark that Harrison’s did. Tom had met his soulmate, he had spent time with her in the same room. He had probably taken a picture with her or held a meaningless conversation with her, but he had no idea who she was. The universe had played a cruel and inhumane joke on him, and there was nothing he could do about it. There was no way he could go looking for his soulmate, trying to find her among the millions of his fans would be impossible. He had thought of every possibility, every option, but none of them would be viable. Tom was marked to spend his life without someone by his side. Up until now, the person by his side was Harrison, his best friend, the person he could tell anything to. And here you were, taking Harrison away from him.

You reached to take Harrison’s hand in yours under the table and he gave you a small nod. “We watched Jurassic Park. The dinosaurs look so much more realistic in color.” You looked to Tom, seeing his big smile. “We had popcorn, too. It was late when the movie got done, so Harrison stayed at mine last night,” you finished, not going into complete detail. Tom seemed more than content with your recollection of the night before. He was happy for the two of you. He didn’t need to know about the intimate words spoken between the two of you, or the warmth and safety that Harrison provided to you, simply by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his bare chest. That part of your love affair could remain yours. You could let Tom have a small part of your night, though. After all, that simple romance was only what he wanted for himself.

“That sounds really nice,” he answered, finishing his coffee. “Should we head back to the set?” he asked, checking the time on his phone. Throughout the day, Tom would sometimes get little breaks. More often than not, they were only twenty minutes or so, but sometimes they would be an hour or two long. During the longer breaks, he liked to just rest. This happened to be one of his longer breaks, and he decided to get coffee with you and Harrison. He really did need time away from the film lot. His frustration was almost palpable, which was why you jumped on Harrison’s suggestion to have some time to yourselves. Although, you weren’t really alone. There had been fans asking for pictures up until the moment the three of you sat down. Of course, there were paparazzi, too, but they kept their distance.

Harrison was the first to get up, letting your hand slip from his as he stood and stretched his back. Harrison was a professional when it came to having people watch his every move in public. You, were not, and it showed. Harrison was ever the patient man, though. As you stood, he ever so slightly leaned in and whispered, “Now, lovey, there are about fifteen cameras on us, so no touching.” His words were a soft reminder to you, a reminder that you needed as you kept yourself from slipping your hand into his.

Harrison’s touch was a drug to you, and last night, you had overdosed on it. The only thing on your mind was his soft skin pressing against yours. His large hand moving however you wanted it to as you mindlessly played with his long fingers was something that crossed your mind almost every ten minutes. You had to restrain yourself, though. Both of you knew that you weren’t ready to face the onslaught of going public with your relationship, and Harrison was more than ready to protect you from ruining the thrill of your untold romance. A small piece of you wanted to think that maybe he had a bit of an addiction to you, too.

It was a short walk back to the set, only about ten minutes. It felt like an eternity, though. “We only have about three weeks left of filming,” Tom broke the comfortable silence, trying to make conversation. He looked over to you, “What are you going to do then?” The question took you by surprise. You weren’t expecting it, especially not from Tom.

“Oh, I’ll be moved to be a production assistant on a different Marvel movie,” you answered, trying to hide the sadness in your voice. A different movie meant a different cast, which meant not being able to see Harrison or Tom on a daily basis. As reckless and childish as the boys could be, you had taken a liking to them. They made your day interesting. Everyday was a new adventure with them, making you all the more excited to see what the next day would hold and what adventure you would embark on with them.

“What it be wrong of me to ask you to come on the press tour with us?” Tom questioned, watching you closely for your reaction. When he didn’t see a clear reaction, he kept talking, “just because filming is done doesn’t mean we’re going to stop having stupid ideas. I think you’ve learned that by now.” His laugh brought a smile to your face. “I doubt I would have to do much convincing for my managers to let my babysitter come with on a press tour.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to do any convincing, honestly. Especially since I’m coming with for this one,” Harrison piped in.

“I would very much like to come with,” you told the boys, their eyes lighting up. The rest of the walk was spent talking about where you would be going on the press tour, and the dumb ideas that you’d consider letting them try out. “You two are idiots,” you concluded as you approach the film lot.

“Yes, but we are your idiots,” Tom speaks, letting a smile spread across his lips. You only smiled and walked Tom to where he needed to be before sitting with Harrison watching as people bustled around, getting the set ready.

“So you want fifteen dogs?” you ask Harrison.

His eyes light up, “yes, I want fifteen dogs, and two kids.” he answers confidently.

You can’t help but chuckle, “how about ten dogs and three kids?”

“I’d go for three kids, but I can’t go any lower than twelve dogs. It just can’t happen, lovey,” he jokes with a soft tone as he shrugs his shoulders.

“In all seriousness, though?” you ask lightly, almost afraid of his answer. Your hand reached out to his, needing the comfort.

His hand took yours, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “Three kids, three dogs,” he answered simply. “We can get the dogs as puppies when the kids are old enough to play with them and take care of them,” his tone was almost dreamy as he drifted off into his own little world, thinking about his future with you.

On the outside, Harrison kept up his reputation, but on the inside he was almost a completely different person. He wanted three kids, one boy and two girls. As excited as he is to teach his little boy how to play soccer, he was just as, if not more excited, to have tea parties with his sweet princesses. He wanted family movie nights, and trips to amusement parks. Harrison wanted to be a father and a husband, he wanted a family and he wanted that with you.

“I can live with three kids and three dogs,” you answer, squeezing his hand. “Would our kids play piano or any other instrument?” you ask, yearning to know more about the future that Harrison wanted.

“No because that would make your imaginary kids nerds and you don’t want nerdy kids,” Tom cuts in as he walks over to you in his Spiderman suit. “Also, I don’t want to be an uncle to nerdy kids,” he finishes, sitting in a chair across from you two.

“I want at least one of my kids to learn how to play piano,” you counter looking at Harrison, who was nodding. “Have you thought of names yet?”

Harrison paused, his eyes studying yours, “yeah, I have,” he let out with a small chuckle. “Wanna hear them?” he teased you with a raised eyebrow.

“I think you’ll love them,” Tom winks at you before he’s called away to start his next scene.

You gave Harrison a shocked look, “so you’ve talked about this with Tom?”

“Tom and I have talked about a lot of things,” Harrison sighs, looking over to you. “Tom wants two kids, a boy and a girl. He wants to name them James and Julia. Tom imagines his soulmate to have strawberry blonde hair with dark blue eyes, pale skin and freckles. He saw a girl like that at one of his photo-ops, and he thinks it’s her. She was really nice, gentle-hearted. Her name was Talia, and she was really short,” Harrison’s smile grew as he talked. “I mean, the top of her head barely reached Tom’s shoulder. And I remember Tom talking about how her smile was contagious. He said that was her favorite part about her.” Harrison stopped, remembering the day like it was yesterday. He saw the way Tom smiled when he took the picture with her. It was a genuine smile, the only one that Harrison had seen from Tom all day.

“So what about those names?” you asked, offering Harrison a smile.

“Theodore or Marcus for the boy names and Geneveive or Alexis for a girl,” he answered softly.

“I like Theodore. I think it’s a very cute boy name, and I really like both of the girl names,” you replied, gently squeezing his hand. “I can’t wait to have kids someday, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he paused, his thumb stopping its movements over your knuckles. “I never thought I’d be this close to actually having kids,” he murmured, looking at you.

“I think kids are still a few months off, at least,” you chuckled as you answered him.

“Y’know before we have kids we have to get married. And before we get married…” his voice trailed off. It was a realization that both of you knew about, but neither of you wanted to admit. You weren’t the only one that had reservations about going public, and Harrison was starting to show that he was worried, too. The difference between your anxieties is that yours were for both of you, and his were focused mainly on you. He didn’t want you to have to deal with jealous fans saying you were just faking it.

“Let’s talk about this later. Maybe this weekend before our movie night? I just want to give this conversation my full attention, and right now isn’t the best time,” you rush out trying not to hurt Harrison’s feelings. From your time spent together the night before, you were aware of how sensitive he could be. You loved that about him, though. You truly adored how in touch he was with his feelings.

Harrison nodded in agreement, bringing the back of your hand up to his soft lips. “I appreciate that you want to give this one hundred percent. So yes, of course we can postpone this conversation to our weekend date. Maybe I could make you some breakfast for dinner and we could talk about this then,” his voice was soft as he spoke.

“I would love to talk about this over breakfast for dinner, as long as I get to try some of your infamous pancakes,” you giggled as he kissed each of your knuckles.

“Then I guess I owe you some pancakes, lovey.”

---

tagging: @stuckonspidey @mrs-hollandstan @thollandss @yo-sugg

#soulmate!harrison #soulmate!haz #soulmate!au #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison x reader #haz osterfield imagine #haz x reader #the boy with the colors #tbwtc

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wevegottogetaway · 6 years ago

Text

A Meaning of Love

It’s been barely two months since Harry and y/n moved in together, and yet, they feel like they’ve never seen less of each other before. The past few busy weeks have forced their routine into a high tempo of quick morning encounters, even quicker lunch break phone calls and countless half-asleep take-out dinners (few nights ago, y/n had been that close to face-plant in her soup had Harry not tenderly rubbed her back and urged her to ‘finish your soup, love, befo’ I take yeh to bed’).

By the time Friday finally rolls around, they are still both swamped in unfinished projects and boring paperwork that nobody really wants to sort out but that has reached its procrastination limit expiry date. And the worst is, even in the midst of this perpetual race against time, they still find some to miss each other and yearn for a quiet and relaxing evening.

Looking at the fancy clock in her office, y/n realizes it’s 7:26pm and she’s the only remaining worker on her floor (or probably all of them for that matter). Her head is throbbing and she has to read every sentence of the manuscript in her hands at least 3 times in order to get even the most remote idea of its meaning.

Exhausted, she dejectedly throws the document back on her desk before leaning back in her chair and harshly rubbing her face with her hands. She finds herself thinking of Harry, counting how long it has been since they last shared a couple-y moment. She just misses it. The intimacy. The idle talk, the deep conversations, the laughter, the cooking sessions, the movie marathons, the other kind of marathons…just the time to share and simply be together. Recently, it’s been all about coordinating their schedule to the best time-efficiency possible and she absolutely loathes it.

‘Fuck that’ she thinks as she starts gathering her stuff. When she’s done saving her work and turning off the computer, she makes her way to the elevator while pulling out her cellphone. In a matter of minutes she’s ordered food from Harry’s favorite place and is already on her way to pick it up. The frown previously etched on her face is finally morphing into a soft smile. She just wants to spend a casual evening with him, make him feel better after the hectic week they’ve had and maybe convince him to prolong said plan throughout the week-end too.

Still at the studio, Harry thinks he’s gonna lose his last hanging nerve if he doesn’t figure out what in hell is missing in the bridge of his new song. It’s 7:35pm and he’s been playing the damn thing since 8 this morning but nothing’s working. The pressure and the fatigue have rendered him inspiration-less and simply left him in a slump. His head feels fuzzy, his thoughts are jumbled and no matter how much he puts his all in it, he knows nothing creative can spring out from stress and sleep deprivation. So he pauses the audio and turns to his fellow songwriters/musicians with a sigh. "Sorry guys, think we should call it a day. My brain’s fried anyway."

They all nod and make their way outside of the studio after sorting everything out. "Don’t worry, man, we’re gonna figure this out. It’s probably best we stopped now anyway, it’ll give us a fresh perspective coming Monday." Mitch tries to reassure his friend.

"Hope so, yeah. I don’t know, I just…Righ' now, I just wanna go home an’ clear my head of everythin’."

"You’re right, it’s getting obsessive in there, and that’s never a good way to make music. ’S gotta be more natural than whatever that was" he says pointing his thumb back towards the building they just left.

"’S not just that though. Things are a bit crazy at the moment, an’ it’s like…I miss y/n in a weird way, yeh know?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we just moved in together a few weeks back, right? But we barely see or have time fo’ each other. Her work’s keepin’ her busy as well...” It seems like he’s gonna add something so Mitch doesn’t interrupt his thoughts. “It’s like missing someone that is right next to you" Harry finally confides and it feels like some weight is being lifted off his shoulders with the confession. He’s been nurturing these longing feelings for a while now but had yet to express them out loud.

"Tell ya what, Harry. It’s the week-end, take advantage of it, man.”

"Yeah, think ‘m gonna go get some food an’ maybe flowers. She’s been workin’ so hard lately, just wanna give ‘er a nice evening." It’s his turn to pick up dinner anyway Harry thinks, and there’s a flower shop right across from her favorite place. Maybe they could just take off for the week-end too. Go someplace tranquil and far away from the city’s hassle.

That’s how half an hour later he’s finally pulling up on their street, take-away and sunflowers buckled in the passenger seat. Taking a long breath along with the rest of his purchases, Harry makes his way to the front door. When he finally enters their home, he’s immediately met with one of the most precious sight he could have hoped for: y/n in her sweats, humming to Here Comes the Sun as she gathers plates and cutleries to set the table. Harry feels already better and makes a bee line to his love with a wide smile adorning his lips.

"‘lo, love. Missed yeh today."

She looks up at the sound of his voice. "Hey, you. How was your day?" But as she’s about to melt in his embrace, she realizes he’s carrying items of his own. "Wait, did you get dinner?" she asks somewhat worriedly.

"Yep, I got yeh your favorite and these-" he hands her the bouquet, "are for you as well."

Now. When Harry imagined her reaction, he didn’t exactly picture y/n’s current expression. He’d thought maybe he’d be greeted with a ‘aww that’s so sweet’ hopefully followed by a kiss and the biggest hug in history. Or perhaps a blush creeping on her cheeks since y/n isn’t the best at receiving compliments and sweet gestures (getting her all flustered has become Harry’s favorite hobby ever since he realized that).

What he didn’t anticipate however, is the mystical look in y/n’s shiny eyes right now, like she was processing a hundred thoughts per second. She isn’t saying anything either. Just staring at him with love and wonder painting her irises.

"Love?" Harry tilted his head slightly on the side in sign of inquiry. Then y/n just chuckled and took his cheeks between her small hands, completely bypassing the bouquet and take-out still hanging from his fingers.

"Thought it was my turn to get dinner," she smiled at the qui pro quo. "I got you your favorite too. And some poppies." That’s when Harry noticed the bag with his favorite restaurant logo printed on it, seating on the kitchen counter besides a vase full of freshly cut poppies (his favorite as well).

Aligning his gaze back with hers, Harry awkwardly shifts around to place the food and the flowers on the counter by their side before engulfing y/n in a tight hug. His smile has grown tenfold and as he presses his forehead against hers, he thinks he couldn’t possibly fall deeper in love with her. So without further ado, he traps her lips between his and brings one hand to her neck. The kiss starts slow, eyes shut and hearts on the edge of imploding, savoring the moment. But then a small whine leaves y/n’s throat and it’s teeth colliding, breathed interweaving in-between, nose smudged against each other, and fingers kneading into heated skin.

The break is sudden and filled with their erratic breathing. It’s the ridicule of the situation that sends them laughing: both of them buying dinner, the result of a simple miscommunication. It’s an honest mistake really, they’ll just reheat the second take-out tomorrow. But it’s also both of them going out of their way, out of their exhaustion to get something special for the other. The desire to make a little gesture because days are rough and as a team they get through that by uniting moral support forces. It’s the intimacy y/n was craving so much. The small details Harry knows about her and she about him, and the fact that even through the madness of it all, they always seem to go back in sync.

"I miss you so much Harry" y/n finally says while tucking her nose in the crook of his neck. She just wants to feel as close to him as possible, breathe him in, and never let go. And really, Harry’s not complaining. He just squeezes her tighter against him and presses his lips on her forehead for a moment.

"I love you, y/n. How ‘bout no work this week-end, hum? Just yeh an’ me, wherever you wanna be" his lips are still brushing against her skin.

"Please," is what she answers before leaning back to stare at his pretty face with a soft smile. "I love you too."

➪ Masterlist

Hey guys, hope you liked that little piece. It is actually inspired by a true story; a so highly stereotypically French one, that I had to edit it for narrative’s sake. If you care to hear about it (no offense taken if you don’t!), prepare yourself cause I’m about to drop some serious French cultural knowledge on you.

There exists two ways one French fellow can eat a baguette: there’s the well-cooked team who likes it golden and crusty (like my Mum), and then there’s the not-so-cooked team who likes it soft all over (like my Dad). The basics being now established, we may proceed with the real story.

One time, both my Mum and Dad were having such a busy day that they forgot to agree on who would buy bread for dinner (I did warn you it would be awfully French). They ended up both buying some, laughing at the situation once they met at home. But see, now when my Dad recalls this — in appearance — insignificant moment of their lives, he says that in that moment they’d made love to each other. Because when they got ready to eat, they realized that my dad had bought a well-cooked baguette for my mum while she had bought a not-so-cooked one for my Dad. And yeah, my Dad can be a hopeless romantic sometimes but he’s kinda right, isn’t he? Love is about putting the other above ourselves and making them feel special with the little things like giving up your favorite type of something just so your significant other can have it their favorite way.

Anyhow, sorry if I bored you with my story (it is 3:52am as I’m writing, if you need some kind of explanation), I just thought it was something sweet to share. Please tell me what you think, I’d love to hear from you!

Take care xx

#Harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #fluff #Harry styles #creative writing #short and sweet #please tell me what you think

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