Perfect - A Colin Morgan x Reader One Shot

The thought of his lips on mine made me tingle. I didn't care that he wasn't really Merlin, there was something truly magical about him. As his eyes glinted in the mock-candlelight and the cast and crew seemed to disappear, I wondered if he could tell I wasn't acting? I could never be as good an actor as this. I could never have portrayed this feeling before, as this was the first time I'd ever known it so strongly. The temptation to pull him in and kill his lines with a kiss was almost overwhelming, as heat rose in my body, and the moment was coming. Crouched down in a tunnel, hidden in our little world under Camelot, Colin Morgan looked at me through Merlin's eyes and said the last line before the big moment, “It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks,” he brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, “I think you're perfect.”

And there I was, unable to speak, as he leaned in and touched his lips carefully to mine. I was supposed to act surprised and delighted, but there was no need for me to think about anything as the man I'd fallen for pressed himself against me. I smiled into his lips and placed my hand gently on his chest. My eyes closed briefly, my heart racing, and I could feel his heartbeat too. I couldn't count the beats, though, as my thoughts were in disarray. I had no idea how he was feeling about this, if anything at all, but I knew that this would be a memory I would treasure forever. Part of me contemplated messing the scene up, so I could do it again, but all too soon, I heard the words “Cut. Perfect.” and I knew I'd ruined my chance.

The stark difference in Colin's accent shocked me out of my daze, as he placed out a hand to help me up, saying, “Great scene!”

“Thanks,” I muttered, taking his hand and smiling. I no longer knew how to deal with my feelings. It was over – the one chance I'd ever get to kiss him, and it was over. I wanted to go home.

“Are you okay?” Colin looked at me with concern.

I didn't speak for a moment, as I searched his face. “Yeah,” I smiled finally.

“I thought you'd be a better liar, considering your acting skills...” I looked into his eyes, and although coming from anyone else that may have sounded sharp, from Colin, it was a compliment hidden in concern.

“I'm fine,” I smiled more softly, and he seemed to be sceptical but calmer.

“You know you can talk to me,” he assured.

I nodded and gave him a genuine grin as he pulled me into a hug.

“That's better,” he laughed gently, rubbing my back, “now what's up?” I shook my head against his chest, and considering we were still surrounded by the other members of the cast and crew, he didn't press for an answer, “Talk to me later?”

“Yeah,” I smiled gratefully, and he ruffled my hair playfully before wandering away to his next scene.

*

“Come in,” I heard his Irish lilt through the trailer door.

“Hey,” I muttered, with my heart already pounding, as I let myself in.

“You okay?” he stood immediately, and rushed to pull me into another hug.

“Yeah,” I managed to breath the words out as he near-crushed me.

“So talk,” he then led me to sit down and took a seat opposite me. After several moments of me fiddling with my hands and staring determinedly at the carpet, he added, “Was I that bad?!”

“What do you mean?” all my concerns were replaced with confusion.

“Our kiss. Was it really that bad? ...You were fine before that.”

“It was good!” I assured hastily, “Perfect, in fact...”

“Then what's wrong?”

“It's precisely that,” I mumbled, finding the courage somewhere to finally go through with this.

“What do you mean?”

I laughed nervously, “That kiss, Colin. That whole scene was like a fairytale.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, not understanding what I meant. “It wasn't very realistic, was it?”

My heart sank, though I couldn't fully explain why. “That's not what I meant.”

“What's wrong?!”

Maybe he could hear the sadness in my voice. I took several deep breaths, then felt his hand cover one of mine. I dared to look up into his eyes, and immediately regretted it, as the blue of his pupils glittered with caring.

“There's nothing wrong, Colin,” I smiled weakly. “That scene was one of the best moments of my life.”

He was confused now, and I couldn't blame him, “So what's the matter?”

“You.” A moment's silence fell on us both as I plucked up the courage to continue, “You've made today special. You make everything special, and I wish we had a kissing scene every day...” Colin's eyes bulged out of his head as he began to understand what I was trying to say. I looked away, and continued talking, “I know it wasn't real, but it was something I've thought about for a long time, and now that it's over, I guess I feel... well... I don't know what I feel, so that's what's wrong.”

Another silent pause clouded over us, but I could have sworn I heard my heart throbbing, trying to escape my chest. Slowly becoming aware of each millimetre of my own body, I realised that Colin's hand hadn't left mine. A small smile crept onto my lips as I stared down at his thumb moving gently over my skin. Goosebumps trailed along my hand and up my arm. My eyes followed the line of his arm, up to his shoulder, over his neck, to his slightly flushed cheek, and after a short glance at his full lips, up to his eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up somewhat, as his eyes caught mine. My heart skipped a beat.

“Are you telling me,” he asked slowly, “that you want to have to kiss me more often?” His cheeks were darkening as he spoke, as I'm sure, were mine.

“I don't want to 'have to',” I giggled anxiously.

“But you want to?”

I paused, unable to read where this was going, “Yeah...”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Yeah,” I almost choked on the word because I was so on edge.

“You want me to kiss you?”

I was beginning to lose my cool now, shakily I answered, “More than anything.”

This short, confident answer seemed to stir something in Colin, as he gripped my other hand and leaned in towards me, “Look me in the eye.”

I glanced, then looked away. He tugged at my hands, and I dared to look properly. His gaze burrowed into me and I couldn't help but smile. “What?” I asked, scared.

“Tell me again, please, just look at me this time.”

“I want to...” I hesitated again, but I had a great hope in my chest that allowed me to carry on, “I want to kiss you, Mr Morgan. For real.”

His head bobbed to the side as his signature grin graced his face. “Really?”

“How many times do I have to say it?!” I half-laughed, half-scolded.

His mischievous eyes twinkled as he contemplated this question.

“Answer me!” my heart raced, as I felt every emotion from fear to love in each moment that passed.

“Okay,” was his only word, before he pulled me into his lap and crushed his lips to mine in a kiss more urgent than anything I'd ever known. My hands explored him as we kissed, finding the curve of his neck and making him shiver, before embedding themselves in his hair, pulling slightly, as punishment for teasing me. He seemed to enjoy it, as his hands ran up my back and pulled me into him.

I moaned as we pulled apart, and he chuckled, “How was that?”

“Perfect,” I pressed my forehead to his, my eyes closed.

“I've wanted to do that for the longest time.”

I pulled back to look at him, “Seriously?!”

He looked sheepish as he nodded.

“So how was it for you?” I smirked, happier than I'd ever been.

“Perfect,” he replied, kissing me again. And again. And again.

Proper Gent - A Taron Egerton x Reader One Shot

"You have been trained in the ways of gentlemen," I spoke in my fanciest voice.

"Doesn't mean I am one," Taron laughed, as I helped him with his tie.

"That okay?" I folded his collar down and ran my hands down his muscular chest, pretending to straighten out his shirt.

He looked in the mirror and adjusted it to be a little tighter, "Perfect. Thank you."

I grabbed his jacket from his bed, and held it out behind him. Spotting this in the mirror, he put his arms back and into the sleeves.

Once his jacket was on, I stood on my tiptoes and slipped my hands from the lapels down onto his chest, so my arms draped around his shoulders from behind. I looked into the mirror at his reflection and smiled, "You look stunning."

He gently placed his hand over mine, "Thank you."

We stood there for a moment, both looking upon our reflection, and I couldn't help but think how good we were together. Suddenly Taron kissed my hand and spun me around his body, so we were facing each other.

"Can I have this dance, m'lady?"

"Most certainly," our posh accents were back. We swayed slowly, holding each other's gaze. "There's no music," I whispered.

He began to quietly hum a tune I recognised but could not place. We gracefully moved for a little while longer, knowing we had plenty of time before we had to leave.

"Gentlemanly enough for you?" he breathed.

I nodded, placing my head on his chest. I could feel the vibration of his continued humming. His arms slipped tightly around my back, pulling me against his body.

"You know I'm not a proper gent, right?" he laughed suddenly.

I laughed too, "Of course. I've known you long enough."

"Do you mind?"

"That you're a bit rough around the edges? No! In fact, that's what I love about you."

"Really? You seem to like this side of me an awful lot."

I pulled away slightly to look into his eyes, "That's because it's a side of you. I love every side of you."

"So you won't mind if I don't act like a gent for a minute?"

"Just be yourself, Taron."

He took a deep breath and nodded. All of a sudden, I found myself backed up against a wall, a passionate yet caring kiss planted firmly on my lips. My hands found their way into his hair, and I felt him sigh happily as he pushed his body against mine. All too soon, the kiss was over, and he took a step back. His hands left me, and he run one through his hair.

"Sorry."

"What for?" I smirked, letting him know that I was more than happy that he'd done it.

"I had to, just once. Now, if you'll allow me, I'd like to kiss you like the gentleman I've been taught to be."

"So kiss me," I smiled, feeling a gentle hand on my cheek, before his soft, subtle lips on mine, more cautious than before. He was mine now... my proper gent.

Those Damn Eyes - A Draco Malfoy x Reader One Shot

"Watch it, filthy half-blood!" Malfoy snarled.

"Back off Malfoy," she retaliated.

"Ooh, fighting back are we?" he hissed.

She blushed. Normally she was shy and quiet, but it was his fault they had collided. The Transfiguration Courtyard was hardly a cramped space, but he seemed intent on barging into people. His goons chuckled; their fat faces reminding her of two witless trolls. She started to walk away, muttering a forced 'sorry' under her breath, making sure to shove him out of the way with her shoulder.

Merely two steps away from them; she felt a strong hand clasp her upper arm. Spinning around to glare at Malfoy, her angry stare was momentarily softened as her eyes locked onto his cold grey ones. If ever this idiot could have a redeeming feature, it would be his deep, almost silver eyes...

She pulled herself out of them and quickly resumed her glower when he started to speak. Crabbe and Goyle had fallen silent, and some first years scurried away, while others sneakily watched them.

She grasped her wand; still in her cloak but ready to be drawn. Time had slowed down, but her heart speeding up as they stared at each other.

In one swift movement, he grabbed his wand, aimed it at her, and yelled a curse she didn't know. She reacted instinctively and disarmed him with alarming speed and precision.

He flew back in the air and crashed against the far wall. His wand soared through the air in another direction, while Crabbe and Goyle stared with gormless expressions. Her first reaction was, regrettably, one of satisfied victory. But as she watched his limp frame slump in a heap on the floor, her heart started to feel heavy. With guilty pain, she was frozen.

Time moved unevenly, she saw him breathe every laboured lungful of air, yet didn't register Madam Pomfrey's busied actions until he was being taken away.

She was rooted to the ground until he was no longer in sight, at which point, her legs started pumping and she ran all the way to the seventh floor, where she knew she would find solitude.

She found herself crying at the thought of hurting someone, of hurting Draco.

She found herself closing her eyes and seeing the image of his sunken body.

She was calling his name in her head... Draco... Draco... Not Malfoy, as she would normally have addressed him, but Draco.

Images of his piercing eyes flashed before her in the darkness, while the feeling that she should have run to him, held him, helped him, coursed through her body like guilt-ridden-adrenalin.

She had stopped in a lonely alcove, unaware of her surroundings, other than the fact that she was alone.

She wiped her tear-stained cheeks, then dabbed her puffy eyes with the sleeve of her robes. She blinked miserably until her scenery made her vision focus instantly.

The light from the nearby window made the silver reflect from the green and black of a Slytherin banner like never before. The 'S' shaped snake seemed to slither slightly as the material bobbed in the corridor's breeze.

Her breath caught in her throat, as the eyes of the snake seemed to follow her, ridicule her... she didn't dare take her gaze from the banner as she backed slowly out of the corridor. Turning the corner, little by little she sped up, in the direction of the hospital wing...

Finally, she walked gingerly into the nearly empty hospital wing, but he was nowhere to be seen. She knocked gently on the office door and was asked to enter.

As the door creaked open, she braced herself to see him there, but no.

"Um, could you tell me where Draco Malfoy is please?"

Madam Pomfrey looked at her suspiciously, eyeing her Ravenclaw robes and her shaking hands.

She asked again, "Please?" and the crack in her voice made Madam Pomfrey's harsh features soften and she nodded.

Draco was hidden behind a curtain at the back of the room, unconscious.

She looked worriedly at Madam Pomfrey and she simply sighed, "Whoever did this doesn't know their own strength... He'll be fine. Fully recovered in two days, maximum, but whoever did it will have to be severely punished."

Guilt very apparent, the Ravenclaw just looked at the floor. "I... I, um," she looked longingly at the sleeping Slytherin, then into the matron's steely eyes. "It was me," she blurted.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, "I know, dear. You can stay with him for a while, if you wish."

Stunned, she took a seat by Draco's side and just watched his face for a moment. She couldn't help herself — she found that her fingers wanted to trace gentle lines across the soft skin of his arm. Seeing his eyes flicker under their lids, and his lips, slightly apart and subtle. It made her see him differently. She had known he was dissimilar to his cronies, from the moment she met him... it had been something in his eyes. Those damn eyes.

Lying there, vulnerable, and it was all at her hand, her doing.

She entwined her fingers in his and wiped a strand of white-blonde hair from his face. She was incomprehensibly sorry and undeniably regretful that this, now vulnerable and beautiful person, had been the victim of such an outburst.

Tears stung her eyes once more, but were quickly stemmed when Draco moved. Those eyes wavered for a moment before landing, with confusion, on her. She tried to smile, but there was hate in his expression.

For some reason, she found her heart to be breaking. He had always given her looks of hate, but this... this was shattering. She took her hand from his and only then did he seem to notice that they had been together.

He tried to sit up, but the best he could do was prop himself up on his elbows, taking in his surroundings. Her worried eyes scanned his face as she stood to leave.

"What are you doing here?" his cold voice was barely audible.

"I wanted to know that you were alright, Malfoy." She returned his anger naturally.

He looked her over. Her contempt for him raged, but it was pathetic, as greater feelings had been unwillingly discovered.

His voice rasped the insult, "Stay away from me, half-blood."

She glared at him before turning to leave. "Sorry if I hurt you Malfoy," sarcasm falling painfully from her lips.

"You will be," he threatened.

"Oh?" she turned and advanced on him, though he seemed so exposed, lying there.

"That's right, you and your little Ravenclaw friends are in for it now. My father will hear about this."

Their voices were slowly growing in volume. She laughed icily.

They were barely inches apart now, but their noise had bothered Madam Pomfrey, who bustled over and told them pointedly to, "Be quiet, now!"

They nodded, giving her a hopefully 'innocent' look, at which she scoffed and bustled away again.  

The Ravenclaw was about to walk away from the scene when she felt that demanding grip again, this time less tightly, and upon her wrist. She turned, with disrespect etched in her features, to see a soft, almost warm Draco Malfoy looking back at her.

All dislike faded and she turned fully to face him. His fingers gently traced her wrist before his hand slid down it, entwining his fingers with hers. She looked into those grey eyes to see something new where once lived icy hate.

She looked down at their hands and yes, they felt right together. But this was wrong. This was weird. She couldn't fathom a response.

She felt his other hand lift her chin to face him once more. He looked so intently into her eyes that she was sure her heart was melting, but at the same time, her mind kept warning her of the dangers of him...

He sat up, taking all his strength to do so. His pain apparent, she helped him. He gestured for her to sit next to him and she was powerless to resist.

He sighed. She watched him think for a second, and then he said, "I'm sorry."

There was a pause in which she considered the apology, then answered, "I should be the one saying that."

He looked at her, slightly confused, but when she put her hand back in his, he knew.

His lips formed words, but no sound came out, his gaze firmly embedded in the bottom corner of the plain curtain.

Moments of silence passed, because she didn't know what to say or do. Their hands stayed together, and they were both contemplating it all...

Finally Draco's eyes darted back to hers and his words came spilling out, "I never hated you. I always wanted you to notice me, but being so different... I think I... I think I..."

She scanned his features and stroked his hand, having never seen Draco nervous, or shy before. He smiled weakly and took a deep breath.

"I want us to be friends."

She smiled, all nervousness of this being a rushed, strained and badly thought-out change of mind draining away at the word 'friends'. He seemed to sigh with relief too, but his grip on her hand tightened and he continued, "I want us to be more than friends... eventually."

He watched her reaction. What felt like an eternity passed, in which a million things raced through her mind, all the while, his eyes were on her.

She came to the conclusion that, while they had always argued, she'd never hated him. It had confused her before, but it was becoming clear now. His handsome face was staring at her, waiting for an answer she didn't have.

He looked down and more silence followed. Slowly his hand was falling away from hers and it made her realise.

She grasped it firmly, causing him to look up. She realised that she couldn't bear for it to slip away... She couldn't bear to lose it... And she couldn't bear to lose him...

"Draco?" she was wide-eyed and timid.

He moved a little and put his other hand on their entwined ones. "Draco... I... I..." she couldn't find the words. She smiled widely and giggled through her embarrassment.

He smiled too, but their faces became happily serious as they drew closer and closer. Leaning into one another, they both knew what was happening and they both wanted it.

He kissed her with soft, yet passionate longing. She returned it, hoping she could give him the shivers he was giving her. Hoping that the electricity that flowed through her mind, giving her a most incredible high, was mutually felt.  

Their lips danced so delicately that she couldn't believe this was the same boy she had cursed. The same boy who had taunted her for years... All was forgiven. All was forgotten. She could love him, but first, and importantly, she could like him. Him and those damn eyes.

You'll Always Come First - A Merlin x Reader One Shot

“What's wrong?” I asked, without even looking up, as Merlin crashed down beside me. I was reading under a tree on the outskirts of Camelot, and I'd only ever told one person about my little retreat. The way he'd plonked himself down, I knew something was up immediately.

“It's always Arthur,” he muttered bitterly.

“What's he done now?” I finished the paragraph I was reading before closing the book and looking over at Merlin.

“Nothing,” he huffed, “and that's just the problem.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, stroking his arm absent-mindedly.

“He's so lazy,” his face pleaded me to understand.

“He is the King,” I started, but couldn't continue opposing the deep blue of his eyes. “But you're right, he is rather lazy.”

“And you know another thing?” he added, as though he'd remembered what he'd been meaning to say for a while, “It's always Arthur and Merlin. Never Merlin and Arthur.”

I smiled at this, knowing that if he were any other servant he'd be grateful for that; “If it were anyone else, Merlin, it would be 'Arthur and that serving boy', so don't be too down about it.”

“Do you know how many times I've saved that prats life?”

“I honestly don't, no,” I giggled slightly, resting my head on his shoulder and curling up to his side.

I could feel his breathing start to ease as I drew circles on his skin with my finger.

“Stop calming me down!” he exclaimed after several quiet moments. “I'm trying to be annoyed here.”

“There's no equality in Camelot just yet,” I muttered carefully.

“But why?!” he moaned.

“Uther's only been dead a short while, and I'm sorry to say, Arthur's got other things on his mind at the moment.”

“Yeah, like Gwen,” he nodded, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Exactly,” I smiled. “So stop beating yourself up.”

“I just wish I mattered more,” he whispered.

“Merlin!” I almost shouted.

“What?” he looked confused.

“Don't ever say that again. Of course you matter!”

“Not to Arthur.”

“Merlin, you're being stupid now.”

“Oh, thanks,” his sarcasm burned.

“Do you honestly think you would have kept your position in the court for this long if Arthur didn't think you were important?!” Merlin looked at me through the corner of his eye, so I sat up for him to get a good look into my honest expression, “You're more important than even you know.”

After a while to think, he looked down and mumbled, “Okay, but I'm not that important.”

“One day I'm going to slap you, Merlin,” I laughed.

“What? Why?”

“You keep putting yourself down, and there is no need for it.”

“I just don't know what to do anymore, you know?”

“I know,” I held his hand and forced him to look me in the eyes again, “but unfortunately I'm probably the only person who'll understand what it feels like to want to be loved.”

“You are loved,” he stated outright.

“But not the way I'd like to be,” I explained, hoping he'd take the hint.

“Who doesn't love you?! They must be crazy.”

“It doesn't feel nice when someone you care about puts themselves down, does it?” I smiled winningly.

“No!” he laughed, caught out. “But honestly, who doesn't love you? I'll go and knock some sense into them.”

I laughed, but ignored the question for now, “Merlin, just look at your situation this way; maybe to the people over there,” I pointed at Camelot, “you'll always be Arthur and Merlin, but to the people right here,” I pointed to us, “You'll always be Merlin and Arthur. You'll always come first to me.”

His bashful smile set my heart aflutter, his eyes sparkling with pride. “Thank you.”

“And as for knocking sense into the person that doesn't love me the way I love them,” I laughed as I slapped him playfully across the face.

“Hey!” he held his cheek, but chuckled, “What was that for?!”

“I love you, you clotpole.”

Realisation hit, and he turned a deep red, “Really?”

“More than you'll ever know.”

“So what's wrong?”

“Nothing...” I muttered, not wanting to have to explain that it was okay if he didn't love me the same way.

“Because if it's me that doesn't love you, you're the one being a clotpole.” He took my chin gently in his hand and forced me to look at him, “I thought you knew that I loved you?”

My heart almost burst, and my cheeks hurt from the massive smile that now plastered my face.

“Are you serious Merlin?”

“You'll always come first. Always have, always will,” he pressed his lips to mine, softly at first, then more wantonly as my book dropped to the floor and we pushed ourselves together, knowing that it didn't matter what other people thought of us, as long as we had each other...