#and then slowly i realised that its my most favourite thing in this entire universe | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dragongirl642 · 3 years ago

Note

I really love your writing and noticed your asks are open (i think). And, I checked your masterlist and didn't see RE8 listed as a universe you write for, so you can ignore this if you want. But, could I request Heisenberg, Donna, and Lady Dimitrescu reacting to a male dragon-shifter reader who has decided to make the character's residence their hoard, and as such, going to extreme lengths to protect them and the residence?

OOOHHH 😮😳 How did you know dragons (and by extent dragon shifters) are my favourite things in the whole wide world!!!!!

As a treat, you get all four of the Lords' reactions. 😎

For extra drama, the dragon-shifter (you) basically crash land nearby (after a loooooonnnngggg flight) and decide to take up residence in the nearest abode while you rest, and end up getting comfortable and liking the area so decide to stay.

You have a full human form, fully dragon form, and an in-between form.

Also, you have like saintly levels of patience.

Heisenberg

It takes him a minute of staring to figure out that the giant dragon in the factory, is not a hallucination, induced by either the drinking he was doing the night prior, or a trick of Mother Miranda's trying to destabilize him mentally.

However this quickly turns into a lot of yelling "what the F are you doing in my factory!" and "What the F are you!" while chucking metal at you.

You melt the more dangerous pieces and yell at him to "Cease this nonsense! You can't hurt me like this."

Heisenberg.exe has stopped working.

He's partially re-evaluating his life like...did I just get sassed by a giant lizard.

You take the initiative to tell the small angry man telekinetically chucking metal around to chill. "Listen, I'm just going to rest here a few days then leave. You leave me alone, and I won't Incinerate you."

He quickly weighs up how much he doesn't want you here vs how much it will piss Mother Miranda off if he uses the giant dragon crash landing in his factory as an excuse to do absolutely nothing for her.

He's a bit annoyed about you taking up all the room by the forges so he can't make new soldats but...

Hate for Miranda wins!

He actually uses this as an excuse in his next report and Mother Miranda comes to 'get rid of the problem herself since Heisenberg cannot'...you almost incinerated her and she checked out. (He's putting that down as one of the best days of his life).

Since he now has nothing better to do he either leans on a nearby balcony or stands on a floating gear and starts trying to get your attention.

Will ask you everything from your name and where you came from to your favourite colour and if you have a specific favourite scale on your body.

You're distrustful and annoyed at first but soon warm up to this obviously lonely man.

You get so comfortable you decide you just might never leave.

The first time you feel comfortable enough to shift back to your human form Heisenberg is like (o_o) hot person! Two for one deal, annoying Mother Miranda plus Eye Candy!!!!

Makes a joke about having you turn into your dragon form again so he can keep making excuses to Mother Miranda. Which gets you curious and you ask about her, and he explains about the cadou, the experiments, and what she did to him.

He will make a bunk for you, so he can get back to work and you can stay near the heat of the forges, (absorbing the energy from the flames speeds up recovery and/or keeps you charged at 100% so you're always ready to burn a b1tch...specifically Miranda).

You both talk about whatever while he works. Lots of late night chats. One time he accidentally doused the forges and you just blew into the chamber and they re-lit immediately. (Mechanical Heart Eyes)

Since you start considering the entire factory to be your hoard, sometimes you claim a random object as your specific favourite piece for the day, maybe one of his tools or a specific piece of scrap. If he needs to use it, you won't let him and a small argument can be had. A solution is soon found though, you can't have a conflict of interest if your favourite item is him.

When you protect him, he's super flattered and hypes you up.

Cue him on the sides cheering you on.

If you two have started dating he will definitely yell "that's my boyfriend!" and gush about you to whoever happens to be standing next to him. (Bonus points if it's any of the other Lords. Especially Miranda, she is dying!)

Definitely makes a sign saying 'Beware of Dragon' to put on the fence.

Sometimes you jump to his defence even when he's in the middle of handling the threat. He gets huffy, saying he can take care of himself. You respond by telling him you won't let anything harm what's yours and once again, Heisenberg.exe is experiencing an error.

Alcina Dimitrescu

She is absolutely dismayed and angry at the giant lizard that barged its way through the doors and took up residency in her hall. It's tracking in mud and snow, burned the curtains, and took a good chunk of the wall, (letting in the cold).

Her daughters can't handle the cold, damn you!

Tries to fight you...fails. Turns out she's not immune to incineration and loses quite a few limbs (they grow back...eventually).

When she sees you shift to your human form, she's doubly-incensed...not only did you barge into her home but your also a D I S G U S T I N G M A N T H I N G !

You shift back whenever she tries to kill you so eventually she just gives up. (According to her she's waiting for the right opportunity NOT giving up.)

Wants to kill you, calls Mother Miranda for help and well, the same thing happens if you had crashed in the factory...she checks out!

Refuses to leave the castle for any reason, she's not leaving you along with her daughters.

Resigns herself to yelling insults at you from the balcony.

You respond in kind and it slowly devolves into a competition to come up with the most creative insults.

Your dragon form radiates heat...like...a lot. (Even counteracting the cold coming through the hole in the wall, which you attempted to fix.) This of course attracts the Dimitrescu daughters to the hall (against their mother's will).

If Alcina sees you lying their in dragon from, her three hive-mind children chattering away happily with you encouraging their curiosity, (Bela is half-asleep by your side, Daniela is complimenting your claws and asking about your bone structure, while Cassandra proudly proclaims her mother's are better than yours), she partly reconsiders her stance on you being a filthy, horrible, disgusting lizard man thing to just a filthy lizard man thing.

Seriously, your filthy, take a bath.

You quite enjoy all the little luxuries that can be found in the castle and decide to stay. Alcina almost shreds her hat in exasperation.

You get more comfortable and she starts to tolerate your presence, although she will take a swipe at you if she thinks she has a chance at killing you in your human form.

Jokes on her you can partially change and still fit through the hallways.

You never told her you've claimed the castle and the Dimitrescu family as your hoard but she does notice you being oddly friendly to her and she is "suspicious!"

You've met a few vampires and have a few suggestions for a more sustainable food source (buying blood donations from villagers instead of killing them). She's skeptical but considers it.

The first time you defend her is actually against Mother Miranda...over the phone. You have sharp hearing...and you don't like what you're hearing.

She's both flattered you would defend her so, and disgusted with herself for accepting a man thing's help.

When she realises she likes having you around, she starts to rationalise to herself that you're not just any man thing, you're her dragon man thing and therefore okay.

Gets more comfortable with leaving you with her daughters. You treat them well and keep them entertained?! That's a free babysitter if ever she's seen one.

When she sees the more extreme lengths you will go to protect the castle and her family, she is impressed and flattered and a little scared, and acts like it was her idea to have you stay.

"Oh, haven't you heard, that's the Dimitrescu Dragon."

Definitely rubs it in Heisenberg's face that she has a dragon and he doesn't.

Donna Beneviento

What are you!?!?!

To protect Donna, Angie is ready to fight you or die trying!

Just kind off avoids you and sends the pollen at you to make you leave.

The only one of the four Lords most likely to actually defeat you.

When you speak though, telling her to "release (your) mind, witch, or (you'll) incinerate everything", she's surprised and scared enough to actually do so.

Asks if you'll be her friend. Angie is cussing you out.

You see how scared and lonely she is and just *adoption mode activated*.

You only need to rest a few days, why not do so on friendly terms with your host. (keep telling yourself that).

It takes a day for you to shift to human form, partially because you don't want to have your measurements taken because Donna wants to make you a giant bonnet, (You reason it's a waste of resources, you'll only be here a short while).

Jokes on you, this is your home now.

You've never hoarded dolls before, but there's a first time for everything.

You will spend most of your time in human form since your dragon form kinda scares her.

Even though she's still scared of it, Donna does find your dragon form interesting and will ask to sketch you (from a distance...no fire please).

Make various over-exaggerated poses and joke about "draw me like one of your french girls" and she will laugh, (even though she doesn't get the joke).

She makes a plush doll of you. It turns inside out to shift between human and dragon.

The first time you protect her, she's scared. The flames take her straight back to her childhood, she's crying and she hides. You shift back to human form very quickly and find her, holding her close and apologising for scaring her over and over.

Will tear a man apart in human form to avoid this (or almost human form).

She slowly works up to being comfortable in your dragon form, the first time she falls asleep against your side is a good day.

You start insisting on accompanying her to meetings and escorting her whenever she has to meet another Lord. They start talking sh1t, they get hit (or burned...you let Donna choose).

Angie cheers you on.

Salvatore Moreau

He is terrified of you when you first show up.

You basically tear your way into the mines for shelter and he is frantically plugging the entrance to his home with the enzyme to hide.

Calls for "mother" to save him and that's how you find him.

You see this small deformed fish man crying in the mine and think, "i'm not gonna ask."

You settle in the slightly larger chamber and just lie down for a rest.

He soon realises your not going to attack him and ventures out to stare at you. He just keeps staring at you for like an uncomfortably long time, peeking around a doorway.

Eventual you snap and ask him to stop staring.

He slowly comes out of hiding and starts asking the basics.

"You can talk?" "Who are you?" "Why are you here?"

Seeing no reason not to, you tiredly answer all his questions.

Hearing about your long journey has him curiously asking about the places you've been to.

He quickly figures out you must have some sort of human form since you end up on the topics of favourite foods or movies and your favourites are all distinctly human. (He's the fastest at figuring this out and the least surprised when you shift).

Terrifying (hideous) creature going through an unnerving transformation into a humanoid form...he can relate. Although he's slightly jealous of how 'normal' you look when you shift to human form.

You two have a movie night where he proudly shows of his collection. It is in the middle of him analysing the context of THAT ONE SCENE that you decide, Yes...This one is mine.

The entire reservoir and mine is your territory and if anything comes anywhere near it they will be ash in 30 seconds.

When you protect him from danger, he's shocked that someone cares enough about him to f-ing incinerate a lycan for even looking at him weirdly.

You act like its natural and eventually he starts to get used to you.

Has self doubt and questions your motives...you tell him he's worth it or that he's your jewel.

C O N F I D E N C E B O O S T

Starts talking back to the other Lords when they insult him. It's easy with you hovering menacingly behind him, veins glowing with barely contained R A G E.

One source of friction however, is the fact that he doesn't like that you keep trying to kill Mother Miranda and he will latch onto you sobbing until you agree to spare her (for now...you'll get her when he's not around).

However, the longer you two know each other, the more self-confidence he gains and the more you talk through what Mother Miranda did to him and why he deserves better, (pointing out her manipulation, analyses whether she's ever 'cared' about him, etc...), the less bothered he gets. (Give it a few years, he'll cheer you on alongside Heisenberg).

Bonus:

The second you see Mother Miranda...it is on sight. (Especially if you know what she did to the Lords).

Cue you shifting to dragon form and preparing to unleash a volley of flame, "I smell the blood of children on you."

You may be comfortable(ish) with the actions of your housemate but you have STANDARDS.

Alright 😊 Hoped you like these headcanons, jaychirps. They were really fun to write and grew quite a bit. 😅

(I feel like Moreau's a bit ooc but I don't know enough about him to dispute that claim....)

Oh and p.s. ... asks are open.

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jayeeintheclouds-inactive · 3 years ago

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ayaa i love your kazuha series mind if you write something when they had their school's prom?? and kazuha is asking y/n out also the dance part 💕

thank you anon!! im really glad that you like my works <3

tbh i’ve never attended prom before so i don’t know how it actually goes so i tried my best (i’m sorry if it’s not what you wanted 👉👈) and im not entirely sure if they have prom in japanese schools let alone in the genshin universe but uhh lets pretend they do 🤡

Notes: kazuha x fem! reader, prom, dancing, fluff scenario/drabble, you and kazuha end up ditching everyone and dancing together in the school field <3

a/n: i felt that this could be read as a standalone, so i didn’t put it in the oak trees and childhood crushes masterlist

When he asks you out to the dance

honestly i dont think there would be any fancy method involved to ask you out

the both of you are chilling under our favourite old oak tree again

and then he randomly goes “so bestie (ouch bestiezoned) the school’s dance is coming soon so do you wanna go together”

and because you were distracted then you don’t think properly and go “ye ok sure”

you only realise it like 10 minutes later after he leaves

it’s a wtf moment when you realised what you just agreed to

also kazuha watched you from afar and he finds watching your horrified expression so funny

On the day of the dance

There was just something about parties and cramped spaces you hated. Despite everyone in the gym hall dressing up neatly and fashionably, there would be the inevitable stench of sweat and everything nasty in general. Really, which smart alec came up with the idea of squeezing 200 rowdy teenagers in the same room?

It was as if Kazuha’s sixth sense could detect your discomfort, because when he saw you scrunch your nose, he gently got hold of your hand and tugged you outside the hall.

Kazuha ended up leading you to the middle of the grassy school field. The cool wind brushed past your bare shoulders, making you shiver a little. The grass beneath you tickled and pricked your bare feet, but you weren’t going to tell Kazuha that.

The field was eerily quiet, obviously because everyone else was inside the smelly, noisy gym. The only source of light in the entire field was the full moon above you and Kazuha, its heavenly glow similar to the disco ball inside the gym.

Without warning, Kazuha stops and turns around to face you. He grabs your other hand, and you look at him confused.

“Sorry if that was unexpected,” Kazuha apologises, a sheepish smile on his face, which makes you hold back an insult, “I sensed your discomfort in there. But, you still wanted to dance, didn’t you?”

“If it’s not too selfish of me,” Kazuha cheekily bows down to kiss your hand, and your face erupts in a bright shade of pink, “May I have this dance, right here with you, milady?”

You scoff, still flustered. “Idiot,” But you accept his invitation anyway. Although your acceptance isn’t verbal, Kazuha already knew what your answer would be, and so he gets into dancing position.

He places your hands on his shoulders, and his on your waist. Slowly, he guides you step by step, dancing along to a soundless melody.

The field remains quiet, the only audible sound heard belonging to the shuffling of feet on the grass. It is hard to not look away from Kazuha’s eyes, which look at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“Is this better?” Kazuha whispers, and you slowly nod your head. A smile makes its way unto your lips, which causes him to smile too.

“That’s good,” He hums, and out of playfulness, he uses his anemo vision to launch the both of you into the air for 5 seconds.

Within that 5 seconds, Kazuha grabs your hand and twirls you around, before landing with you hugged tightly in his arms.

You snort. “What is this Studio Ghibli wannabe scene?”

“Don’t ruin the mood,” He laughs, and places a chaste kiss on your nose to shut you up.

You close your eyes and sigh in content. Dang you, Kazuha.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader fluff #genshin fluff #kazuha fluff #genshin scenario #genshin drabble

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sunjaesol · 4 years ago

Text

canon juke fluff based on “till forever falls apart” by ashe and finneas

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Raucous laughter disappeared in a snap as the door slammed behind her. Her feet stumbled from the sudden change, finding her balance again and then hopping towards the garden gate. She left a glitter trail in her wake.

Julie turned seventeen today. She knew it’d be special the second she woke up, Carlos blaring ‘Dancing Queen’ like a little shit before her alarm clock went off. It was the most brotherly way he could congratulate her and she loved him for it. (Not after she chased him though - who the hell did that?!)

Flynn came by during breakfast, phasing through Alex without realising as she placed a glittery crown atop Julie’s curls. It was plastic and clunky and the number 17 was pink and glowed in the dark. Luke sat on the kitchen island teasing her for it, Reggie helping Ray make pancakes and yelling he wanted one too. It was barely seven am and her day was the best.

At school, she was showered with birthday wishes and her Instagram flooded with messages of people that confirmed they’d come to her party.

Despite everything, her traitorous thoughts always ended up in the same spot. Luke. He teased her at breakfast, but he didn’t hug her like Alex and Reggie. He didn’t poof beside her as she walked down the driveway to quickly impart a joke or a secret or a lyric, something for her to mull about on the trek to school with Flynn. There was nothing.

On the one hand, it could just be pre-performance jitters. Luke took every gig a hundred percent seriously and got pretty intense if a lot of people were going to be watching. If he didn’t set the stage on fire in one song, he’d feel like he failed. So yeah, Julie allowed herself to think that was the case for his absentmindedness.

If only she didn’t know him so well. She knew it was something else entirely. She knew it had to do with her age; the fact that she aged. It was hard to not let it temper her birthday excitement, but all she wished for (just like when she blew out her candles for her sixteenth birthday) was for them to hide in her daydreams and be together without qualms. That he was hers.

Luke and her have made plenty of mistakes over the two years that they’ve known each other. Falling in love wasn’t one. She couldn’t believe that - even if he’d given her mixed signals since their fated gig at The Orpheum.

The party was a hit. Dad bought a big peanut butter chocolate cake and they played their best set ever, the studio decorated in an explosion of flowers and butterflies and streamers. Julie was in a glittery purple dress, the crown to match, each lyric coming from her lips laced with glee and pink lemonade. That perpetual thrill coursing through her as she danced with Reggie and hyped up Alex and - her favourite part of all - shared the mic with Luke. His aloof behaviour from before was gone then, coming towards her in that greedy way that made her heart stutter out of place.

Julie wondered if anyone ever believed he was a hologram prior to the band ‘moving to America’. How could they, when he’s always looked so alive and real and warm and with his eyes so intently on hers that it felt like he bore through her, straight to her soul.

Pushing through the sensation, she shot him a teasing grin and returned to the piano.

After the set, Flynn put her DJ skills to good use and put on a killer playlist. Julie danced until her feet ached, sang along until her throat hurt, ate cake until she was full. She was happy and seventeen. As the hours went by, more and more classmates trickled away, ending with her family hoarding the kitchen island as they ate the remnants of cake. All except one.

It hurt. Julie knew Luke was brooder - but on her birthday? Because he couldn’t handle it? Tomorrow, she'd be on her way to surpass them. First Reggie, then Alex and then Luke. Was it selfish of her for wanting to spend time with him? For wanting to dance with him? If just once? If Alex and Reggie could, why couldn’t he?

Without a second thought (or third, fourth, fifth - it was always and forever tethered to Luke), she stumbled out the front door towards the garden gate. Glitter stuck to the pavement.

The light was on in the studio, their safe haven surrounded by fallen decorations as if a storm had passed. Her bare foot kicked a balloon, a smile tugging on her lips as the purple thing drifted and bounced against the trees.

She slid the doors open. There he was.

“Luke?”

His back was turned towards her, head bent over the grand piano as he fervently wrote in his trusty songbook. More songs were theirs than just his in there, she knew, and it left her warm.

He perked up, head turning, a gentle smile on his lips. “Hey birthday girl. You look like shit.”

She laughed, coming closer, and watched as more glitter fell to the floor. She must look like a sweaty, exhausted disco ball. Despite this, a sense of calmness washed over her. Luke was here and he was smiling at her and everything made sense again.

“Thanks,” she jabbed. “You look even worse.”

Tensing his muscles, as if she hadn’t seen them before, he smirked. “Please. The sweat makes my arms look better.”

The smile stuck to her cheeks, stupidly enamoured by his silliness, and remembered a time when she didn’t allow herself to feel like this. But that was before the late night sessions in the studio, before he became corporeal, before he placed tender kisses on her forehead before important gigs, as if infusing her with the power to kill it, before he hung out in her room and before he allowed her to know more about 90s-Luke. (There wasn’t much difference. According to his stories, he was just as endearing then.)

Before one frustrated kiss between them, months ago, nearly blew everything up. If the band and their connection wasn’t so tight, she didn’t know what would’ve happened. They never spoke about it. Perhaps the knowledge that it happened, the idea that it could happen again, realising that her daydreams weren’t one-sided - it left her yearning. Who would blame her? She was seventeen.

The kiss had been a mistake, but that ‘stupidly enamoured’ feeling? It was only a natural reaction. She didn’t want anyone else.

Crossing the final distance, Julie tightly wrapped her arms around him. Luke held her close, face burrowed in her neck and letting his waning body spray and her flowery perfume melt together.

“You haven’t given me a hug today,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know.”

She bit back a sigh. This couldn’t be a mistake too. “Why?”

“Cause you’re seventeen,” he muttered. “I can’t pretend you’re-”

“Younger?”

His palms curled around her, pulling back slightly to look her in the eye. The green, bright yet troubled, flitted across her face. Dejected, it dropped to the ground, as if the sight of her brought him wonder and ache at once. Could she tell him it was mutual? Could she-

“Able to be mine.”

It was uttered so quietly, she almost didn’t catch it. It was as if the world went off its axis, both precariously close to falling off the edge and Julie debating whether that would be a bad thing or not. If it really was that insane if it meant she got to be right here, in his arms.

The feeling coiled in her stomach, pushed itself up her ribcage, straight through her heart and slid past her throat. The words danced on her lips, lively and colourful and devoted.

And then she said it. “I love you.”

His eyes slowly locked with hers, a glint of uncertainty found beneath. The lack of surprise on his part would make her laugh had she not been so terrified to lose him completely, all at once. His fingers pressed into her skin, like she’d be the one backtracking her words and running out. Like he wasn’t the one with the ability to vanish from her grasp.

Luke exhaled and dropped his forehead against hers, gaze unwavering. Her instincts told her to shut her eyes, look away, maybe even bridge the gap, but they were so close to finally becoming something. Whatever that might be.

“Why aren’t you scared?”, he breathed.

Her nervous hands found solace on his cheeks. “I am scared. And it’s despite that. All I wanted today, Luke, was have you be with me.” And then her eyes clenched tight anyway, overwhelmed by the moment. “I’m scared and- and despite everything… I love you.”

Her vulnerability hanging by a thread, she watched as he processed her words. She had no clue if she said or did the right thing, though her hands were frozen in place. Her heart rate picked up when he mirrored her, calloused fingers slipping from her shoulders to her face.

Luke swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry that- that I’ve been distant. But I’m scared and not for the reasons you think. I’m scared cause-” His chuckle was like a candle awakening in a dark cave. “-cause I don’t wanna spend a minute loving anyone else.”

The previous terror washed away, a brilliant smile blooming on her lips at his confession. Her head tilted, allowing her nose to brush his and sigh when he didn’t pull back.

“I was scared cause I thought you didn’t want that,” he finished.

Her voice drowned in reverence. “I do want that. I want you. Until…” Shaking her head, she let out the truth. “Until the universe takes you back.”

The boy laughed, relief sagging his shoulders and pulling so impossibly close, so tightly it should’ve hurt - had euphoria not been bursting in her chest at the simple action. His watery eyes held all she ever wanted to see. Him. Honestly, truly, him.

“I-”, he stuttered, his own anxious smile stopping him. Her thumbs pressed into the lines, urging him to keep going. It softened, in that earnest way only he knew of. “I think I fell back on this earth to be with you, Julie. I think- I know I’m yours.” That incredulous laugh erupted from his chest again, so full, as if it’d been waiting. “I’m so glad I get to hold you.”

There was so much she wanted to say - that she was his, has always been his, that it was insane because they were so young, but what the hell was time anyway? Julie wanted to be with him, forever, until forever disintegrated like smoke between her fingers.

Now, she cradled his cheeks and he was warm. And he told her he loved her, in ways she never expected him to.

Instead of speaking, Julie kissed him. Her lips were sticky from soda and his still held the taste of lovesick words and lyrics, but it was perfect. Their mouths puckered from smiling, that damned kiss from months ago replaced by this one. It felt as if all her wishes, her restless midnight questions, all were granted by one simple touch. By his arms wrapping around her and hers gripping onto his jaw and hair. So tight, so close, as if the tides of Fate would pull the other away right this second.

But nothing happened that second. And the one after that. And again, again, again. They kissed and the universe allowed them to.

Julie didn’t think there was a more beautiful way to fall in love.

With a quiet thrill leading up her spine, she told him. “I think this year might be fun,” the girl grinned against his lips. “The first year of forever of giving my heart to you.”

His tender gaze rested on hers, relaxed hands caressing her back. Love was a good look on him. “Are you gonna say stuff like that now? To fuck with me?”

She giggled, glee bursting at the seams. “You started!”

“Yeah.” Luke trailed off, a dopey smile glittering his eyes. Just as he leaned in for another kiss, he stilled. “Oh! I was writing some stuff for a song!” Nodding at the discarded notebook on the piano, he asked: “Wanna work on it?”

Just like that, they were back to being Luke and Julie. Singers, musicians, writing partners, best friends, each other’s forever.

Propping the glittery crown on his head, she matched his fond expression and went to sit on the piano bench. “Yeah, show me.”

Julie would look back on that moment and smile. Two seventeen year olds, defying Fate and the Universe and everything in between, mocking the stars that yes, Luke and her did belong together. There was strength in knowing their forever was predetermined, that they knew it wouldn’t be eternal, but that that was okay. Every second mattered then. Every laugh became fuller, a kiss more passionate, a smile brighter. They spent a lifetime, counted in quick adolescent years, sharing their hearts.

For a while, Luke was hers. And forevermore would they be together - in the whispers of songs, in memories, in lingering cologne on clothing.

It was the sweetest, most adventurous romance of all.

But that wasn’t important now. Luke sat next to her, held his notebook out, and together they did what they knew best. When the clock struck midnight, all he did was kiss her again.

“You know,” he muttered, lips brushing her ear. “The things we said? Might make for a killer song.”

Julie’s nose scrunched up in delight, thumbing to a fresh page and clicking her pen. Nuzzling into his neck and interlacing their free hands, she swore she felt it. Their tether. It was real - just as real as him loving her and her loving him. It was there. She took a deep breath.

“Let’s do it.”

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@blush-and-books @bluefirewrites @unsaid-emily @willexx @ourstarscollided @constantly-singing @ruzek-halstead

#juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better #i was supposed to make this when the song came out but i got sidetracked

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shanzodragoness · 3 years ago

Text

On the back of my previous post, I couldn't resist to help fill a gap in fics. Here I am.

Title: An Old Flame

Tags: a bit sad, fluff, but don't worry it gets better

Notes: you work for Stark, after taking the wrong turn you find yourself in the hands of the TVA and promptly pruned. Not saying much else as it'll spoil the fun

My sincerest apologies if this is substandard, this is my first reader fic and the first written in second person. This took me a while bc the feels were intense. Enjoy

Y/F/F - your favourite flower

Words: 1622

----

Your nexus event was confusing. The TVA claimed that you were fated to turn the other way when the Avengers returned to Stark Tower with their newest intergalactic villain. But for some reason you noticed the stare of those blue eyes from across the hall. You noted the muzzle; probably for a good reason. Curiosity carried your feet across the tiled floor and you heard footsteps behind you.

Fast forward an undisclosed amount of time and you were in a court, one that seemed very biased without a juror in sight. You had cocked your head when the judge sentenced you to be reset, what could that possibly mean, could you amend your mistake and simply go back to retrace your steps but as they were meant to be?

It seemed that you weren't getting away with your so-called crime so easily as one of the minutemen approached you with a stick. It wasn't until it was twisted and whirred to life that you realised the gravity of the situation. Did it hurt? The sensation was akin to a quick shock as you saw your body begin to disappear from your stomach outward, the yellow energy dissolving your being.

Your head hurt, your body ached, the light stung your eyes as you attempted to flutter your eyes open. Your eyes fixated on a shadow that eventually gave way to a brightly clothed old man, looking like a costume for a child's birthday party. The two golden horns on his headdress bowed forward and curled back, a feature shared by three of the four beings before you. The old man extended a hand to you as your ears began to tune into the world.

"Y/N?" He asked. Your streetwise nature told you to run, that you didn’t know this man regardless if he knew your name or not. Instinct however, that told you that you could trust this man, that in the grand scheme of things that you knew him, that he'd protect you.

You took his glove clad hand in yours, him pulling you to your feet. "We need to keep moving," he said, his gaze betraying a sadness as he locked his sight with yours.

The four began walking off, counting the pet alligator, and you followed them. In this strange world you doubted that you'd make it on your own anyway, "are you running from someone?" You asked the group. The older one turned his head to regard your query.

"Alioth hungers for the pruned variants that are dumped here by the TVA," he replied. There it was again, this time you could see regret spark his eyes. You'd have to ask later.

After a trek through the wasteland filled with junk from many different ages, you were presented with an open hatch in the ground, "after you," the kid said. You nodded and climbed down the ladder, taking in the large bunker you had entered. A few chairs dotted to one side facing a makeshift throne, many trinkets adorned the living area, souvenirs from the surface. As soon as the click of the hatch reached your ears your heart sank, that rational part of your brain considered that you could've been trapped here. Again, part of you calmed upon seeing the older man.

The kid sat on the throne and seemed to be the leader of this strange place. The dark skinned man sat down first, the others following his lead, and so you sat on a free chair next to the old man. You felt safe. You focused on the chatter of the men

"So, after I vanquished Captain America and Iron Man, I claimed my prize, all six Infinity Stones," the dark skinned man said. The alligator growled from it's paddling pool.

"That's alligator for growling and saying "liar" at the same time," the old man translated.

"At least my nexus event wasn't eating the wrong neighbor's cat." And as soon as he'd offended the animal, the old man pried the alligator off the dark skinned man. They laughed and you cleared your throat.

"What are your names?" You asked, omitting introducing yourself as it had been established that they somehow knew your name. You saw the pain rise to the surface again in the old man's eyes, but it was quickly suppressed.

"I'm Loki, so are the others. We're variants of the same being, from different timelines," he explained. You nodded and took in the information. They drank wine and you even sipped a bit of the hearty red wine offered to you. Soon Alligator Loki closed his eyes and curled up in the pool, Boastful and Kid leaving to different sections of the bunker. The style of the old man's clothes looked very retro, and so the nickname in your mind materialised as Classic Loki. He was watching the last of his wine swirl in the goblet.

"What was your nexus event?" You asked. He looked up from his wine slowly and locked his eyes with yours.

"In my timeline, everything proceeded correctly, my entire life, until Thanos attacked our ship.

"I cast a projection of myself so real, even the Mad Titan believed it. Then hid as inanimate debris. After I faked my death, I simply drifted in space. Away from Thor, away from everything. Thought about the universe and my place in it, and it occurred to me that everywhere I went, only pain followed. So I removed myself from the equation, landed on a remote planet and stayed there in isolation, in solitude for a long, long time.

"To tell you the truth, I missed my brother, and I wondered if he missed me, if anybody else did. But as soon as I took my first steps to getting off the planet, the TVA arrived."

"I'm sorry," you said, it seemed the most appropriate response.

"Don't be," he replied, his watchful gaze lingering on yours.

"Ever since I woke up, I felt scared, but something deep inside told me I was safe. Have we met before? I have a strange feeling that I know you from somewhere," the words came tumbling from your lips faster than you could stop the bumbling speech. You saw a smile grow on his face, and for the first time you saw that sadness turn into a glint of hope.

"Y/N my dear, in my timeline I met you on Midgard, the realm you call Earth. My brother convinced me to wear some Midgardian clothes to fit in for a little sightseeing under his guard, the incident in New York made freedom that tiny bit beyond my reach. You were a beautiful maiden I met in the coffee shop Thor took us to. I found out you worked for Stark, and I spent the next few months courting you, as awkward as that was in a cell. Each time you checked on the prisoner I conjured you a gift, sometimes lavish jewellery that you joked that you'd not be able to hide from the others." He laughed as he recalled the memory. "When I was finally granted free roam of certain floors in the Tower I'd always make sure to conjure a vase of flowers on your desk every morning and find ways to see you. A year later we not so subtly decided to take the next step together. The exquisite diamond ring I placed on your finger whilst kneeling for my queen."

You smiled at him, he spoke of you with a great fondness that it brought a tear to your eye. The man's joy was dampened once again.

"We never had the chance to become husband and wife, I brought you to Asgard, well, SHIELD sent you as a liaison officer. Ragnarok came. The ship. It was supposed to take you with the other refugees, Thanos had you killed first to demonstrate his threat to kill anyone who stood in his way to get the Tesseract. You know the rest of the story."

When you watched his reaction, he looked broken again, and you hated to see him so fragile after everything he'd told you. You stood up and looked down at the gap on the cushioned seat. He knew what you were asking, and so he shuffled to the side to allow you enough space to sit next to him. "Could you do me a favour?"

He looked down at you and a soft smile played on his lips. "Of course."

"Can you show me what the ring looked like?" You asked. His smile grew as his green seidr fluttered over your left hand and a flick of his fingers caused the seidr to swirl over your ring finger. When the magic subsided you saw the most intricately cut diamond you'd ever seen, the gold was woven at its base like flowers holding the stone in place. You didn't see the look of adoration that he gave you whilst you inspected the ring. When you turned you grinned at him. "I never thought that anyone would propose to me."

He moved his arm to hover over your shoulders, "may I?" He asked. You nodded and the adoration was back, he was unsure of himself even when you accepted him. His hold was firm yet gentle, showing how much he didn't want to let you go this time.

"Loki, I'd like to stay here with you. Maybe we can rebuild the life you remember we had."

"I will, dear Y/N. But before that," his green magic swirled between his barely clenched hand and formed a bunch of beautiful Y/F/F. "I must bestow my gifts upon you once more, every one, in the order that I gave them to you."

---

Tag list:

@sonhadoraativa @octopus5555 @stayfabulous @hubert-the-pterabug @russianbutchcrushing

#classic loki #reader #helping filling the gap #loved writing this #fluff #classic loki x reader

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bumblebee-moreno · 4 years ago

Text

Lovers

After hours of cursing at my laptop, I have finally finished my secret santa fic for @artemiseamoon (hope you like it!!!)

Ezra x reader (written with an AFAB reader in mind, though it’s entirely possible I accidentally made it gender neutral)

Warnings: insecure Ezra, discussion of body image (Ezra), light angst, but mostly fluff, possibly OOC Ezra? idk I haven’t written a lot of him yet... umm marriage is discussed just but it’s left ambiguous as to whether it’s legal or if y’all just decided to say you were 🤷 ...um possible inaccuracies with the tarot content?? i did my research but I had zero knowledge to begin with so idk if I got everything right?

Word count: 5098

A/N: Important!!! This fic is separated into sections... Italics take place in a different point in time. The three middle sections (which each have titles) are to represent each card in the tarot reading, the first titled section (in italics) is a flashback, the second is present time, and the third (in italics) is a snapshot of the future. the beginning and end also take place present time.

before you continue, did you read the author’s note?? it’s important to understanding the fic!!

Ezra lets out a soft sigh, burying his nose deeper into your chest. You card your fingers through his hair, a soft smile appearing on your lips at the way he leans into your touch.

These moments are your favourite: when the weather outside is too dreary for work, and the two of you curl up together on the small cot you share.

Ezra insists he hates days like this. A day without work is a day without pay, after all. You’d always laugh at his complaints.

“Surely a day in bed with me isn’t that unbearable,” you’d always tease.

“A day in your arms,” He’d reply, pressing a kiss to your lips, “is the only satisfactory substitution for a day’s work.”

Ezra shifts in your embrace until he can reach to brush his lips against your neck. You tilt your head, allowing him easier access.

Ezra begins murmuring against your skin. Between every kiss comes a compliment. You have no idea what most of them mean; you can only guess by the love with which they’re said. “There are,” Ezra kisses you again, “no words,” kiss, “impressive enough to describe you, my Star.”

You slowly sit up, Ezra following suit, not allowing any significant distance to come between the two of you.

You cup Ezra’s cheeks, steadying his face between your hands. Softly, as if he might shatter if you’re not careful, you brush your thumb across his lower lip.

Your lover stares into your eyes, almost as if they are the night sky and he’s searching for constellations. Just as you begin to wonder if he’s lost himself, Ezra breaks the silence, his voice barely more than a breath. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to hold the universe in my hands,” you reply, and as if to prove your point, you pull Ezra into a kiss that is as gentle as it is passionate.

“You are mistaken, Star,” Ezra lifts his hand to your face, desperately wishing he had his other, so he could properly mirror your touch. He places a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh?” you breathe, preparing yourself to argue when he says that he’s the one holding the universe in his hand. Just as he always says.

But his touch falls from your face. With a feather-like touch, he pulls your right hand from his cheek, turning it to place your palm on your left one. He mirrors it with your left hand.

“Now you hold the universe in your hands,” he whispers with a subtle quiver in his voice.

You drop your arms, lips parting to argue with him; to insist you had it right the first time. But your words catch in your throat when a single tear spills down Ezra’s face.

He tries to swipe it away before you see, but you catch his wrist. “What’s wrong, love?” you dry his cheek with your thumb, allowing your fingertips to linger against his jaw.

You watch the wheels turn in Ezra’s head as he chooses his words. “…Me,” he replies simply.

For a moment, you don’t know how to respond. “…you?”

Ezra nods, pulling away from you to lean against the wall.

“What does that mean?” you try to brush a strand of hair out of Ezra’s face, but he shies away from your touch.

“You deserve… more,” Ezra refuses to look at you.

“I don’t understand,” you search Ezra’s face for clues.

“You deserve someone who can give you everything,” he sniffs, “You deserve more than a forlorn pod and allocating freeze-dried rations.” More tears escape from Ezra’s eyes and drip into his lap.

“Ezra,” you soothe, “I don’t care about any of that.” Ezra opens his mouth to argue, but you continue. “Is it not enough to love each other?” you question, not bothering to wait for an answer. “If I only cared about material possessions, do you think I’d really have stuck around this long? I love you, that’s all I care about.”

Ezra wordlessly stands, shuffling across the floor to rifle through a canvas bag.

“What are you doing?” you sigh. You’re met only with a hollow silence.

After a moment, Ezra returns. He delicately sits beside you, placing a small object in your lap. Your gaze drops to find a stack of well-loved cards.

“Ezra,” you protest, setting the cards aside.

“Please,” the desperation in Ezra’s voice breaks your heart.

“You don’t need a tarot reading to tell you that I love you,” you try to meet Ezra’s eyes, but they’re glued to the floor.

“I just—” Ezra sighs. “Forgive my trepidation, but I need to know… where are we headed? I comprehend that you love me at this moment in our journey, but what about years from now? Will you still be enamoured by me?”

You give in with a sigh, realising that Ezra won’t be satisfied by just your insistence that you’ll always love him.

“I’d like to believe you when you say you love me, but I can’t help but speculate that your judgement may be clouded,” Ezra continues. “Our ceaseless wayfaring, our lamentable career… It’s all beneath you. You deserve better.”

You finish shuffling the cards and lay them in front of you. After taking a moment to examine the spread, you open your mouth to speak.

---

Reversed Ace of Cups

Ezra sat back, frowning at the canvas bag. It was stretched at odd angles, stitches pulled tight. He didn’t even attempt to close it, the zipper would tear right off.

“You’re certain all your possessions fit in here?” he asked. He wasn’t able to fit half your things in the bag, let alone all of them.

“Yes, Ezra, I’m certain it all fits.” You lifted your attention from scrubbing filters to examine Ezra’s progress. Laughing at his lost expression, you crossed the floor to kneel across from him.

“You just have to reorganise so it fits,” you explained, shuffling items around until there was room for more.

Ezra watched your hands dig through the bag. They looked like they’d fit perfectly in his. He watched your eyes analyse your work. Just like they do in the field.

Ezra could tell there was a lifetime of stories behind that gaze. He wondered which story caused that slight frown that only seemed to disappear when you were asleep. Or, perhaps, it was a collection of stories.

“There,” You sat back on your knees.

Ezra dropped his attention to the bag. Everything fit. It was still a bit stretched at the seams, but the zipper would no longer struggle to close.

Something caught Ezra’s eye. He reached in, lifting a deck of cards from the top of the bag’s contents. He removed the string holding them together and spread them out in his hands to admire the art on each of them.

“I, um…” You stuttered, watching Ezra’s fingers trace the worn ink and well-used edges.

“I was not aware that you read tarot,” Ezra murmured with a hint of admiration in his voice.

“Keeps me sane,” you shrugged.

“Would you feel inclined to do a reading for me?” Ezra asked, offering the cards out to you.

Your fingers brushed against his and Ezra’s heart jumped into his throat. The contact only lasted a moment, though, before you began shuffling the cards. You were saying something. Your voice was beautiful. Ezra could listen to you talk forever.

You were staring at him expectantly. Ezra’s face heated up—he hadn’t heard what you said.

“I apologise, I didn’t quite catch that, Star.” He chewed his lip, praying that you didn’t catch on to his train of thought.

You fought the urge to smile at the nickname. Ezra has called you that since the day you met. You always pretended to be annoyed, insisting he use your name. You don’t hate it; you just wish it meant the same thing to him that it did to you.

“I asked if you had a question? For the reading.”

“Oh,” Ezra exclaimed. “My apologies, my cognizance was elsewhere.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you laughed, your usual frown melting away. Ezra’s chest swelled with pride at being the reason you’re so relaxed, despite his embarrassment.

“This assignment is approaching its end,” Ezra took a moment to sweep his gaze across the room that had been your shared home for the last several months. “How should I converge with the coming weeks?”

‘will you stick around?’ Ezra meant to say. But you couldn’t know how he feels. Not yet.

You nodded to acknowledge Ezra’s question before you finish shuffling.

Ezra wasn’t even sure how many cards you laid down.

Even through your concentration, you looked happy. Relaxed.

You began to speak. As you shared your interpretation of the cards, Ezra watched how different emotions transformed your face.

Some of them, he had seen before; the passionate look you get when you talk about the stars, the way your brows furrow in an excited concentration. He only saw your eyes light up like this on occasion; at night, usually. When it was too dark to work but neither of you are quite ready to go to sleep, so you settle on opposite ends of the bed, each doing your own thing. He’d sometimes watch you from the corner of his eye, and when you thought he wasn’t looking, you’d glance up at him with that same look in your eye, Ezra had always wondered what it meant, but has never dared ask for fear you’d stop letting him see it. It was a look that felt rare and intimate. As if only those who you’d trust with your life would ever have the privilege of seeing it.

But some of those expressions, Ezra had never seen on your face. The way you looked when you paused for a breath, it was as if you were doing so much more than interpreting the message the cards were telling you; you were the connection between this reality and the next, watching a story unfold and telling Ezra what he needed to know to make it his reality.

Your expressions confirmed what your words were telling him: everything was about to change. His lifestyle. His relationship with you. Everything.

It should have scared Ezra. But this was the safest, the calmest, Ezra had felt in a long time.

You fell silent, finished with your reading. You searched Ezra’s face for a reaction.

“I love you,” Ezra blurted out before he could stop himself.

Your jaw dropped. “Ezra, I—” You didn’t know what to say.

“I understand if my feelings are not reciprocated. And I apologise if this puts you in a vexatious position, I assure you, that was not my intention.” Ezra paused, wringing his hands together. “I simply needed you to be aware of my feelings towards you.”

You didn’t know how to respond. A million words sat at the tip of your tongue, but none of them seemed right. With each passing second, Ezra could feel his stomach drop further and further into the floor.

“Oh,” Ezra breathed, taking your silence as rejection. He backed away, shoulders threatening to collapse around him. Tears stung at the backs of his eyes. His stomach was turning. How could he be so stupid as to think you’d fall in love with a man like him?

You dove forward suddenly, pulling his face toward yours, your lips crashing against his. It took Ezra a moment to register your actions, and another to react. He was soon pulling you into his chest in a bruising embrace, his lips engulfed yours in a way that was almost overwhelming. Ezra let out a soft moan when your fingers found his hair. His nose bumped yours and his breath tasted like the stale, nearly unbearable rations you’d been living off of for months, but you didn’t care—yours probably wasn’t much better.

The kiss was rushed, desperate. Your teeth kept hitting his. He couldn’t decide where on your body he wanted his hands to be.

You finally broke away for a breath. “I love you too,” you whispered into Ezra’s lips.

___

Reversed Judgement

It’s been years since that night. You’d gone through everything together; Ezra nursed you back to health when you got sick, you’d taken care of him when he, inevitably, caught whatever you had. It’s been ages since you stopped counting how many times you’d stitched each other’s wounds. You’d been there for him when he lost his arm, he’d been by your side for every injury of your own. It has never been a question that you have each other’s backs.

Ezra smiles softly. You’re so beautiful like this. The way your eyes light up as you speak, as if you’re a prospector who has just uncovered a valuable gem. It’s an expression Ezra has seen a million times, but his heart aches to see it a million more.

But his smile quickly fades. You’re happy right now. But how long until you realise you deserve better? You don’t deserve this life. You deserve more than a creaky pod and a lumpy cot much too small for one person, let alone two.

And what about the loss of his arm? The jobs Ezra can take now are restricted, the people who will hire him even more so. In bed, he can hardly figure out what to do with himself. You keep insisting that it’s okay, that he’ll learn. But how long are you willing to wait?

Ezra closes his eyes and listens to your voice; it’s his favourite sound. And the passion behind it now, during a reading? It’s overwhelming.

Ezra wants the rest of his life to be spent by your side. He can’t stop thinking about his future with you. Will you settle down together? Or spend the rest of your lives travelling the galaxy together? He’s not sure which he wants more. But either way, he can’t imagine a story for himself that doesn’t include growing old with you. If he’s honest with himself, Ezra can’t even remember a time he’s thought so much about the future. It’s always been about now. About surviving to see tomorrow.

Why does that have to change now that he’s in love? Why is he suddenly afraid of the future?

You’re happy now. Your kisses, the way you seek Ezra out even in your sleep, how your hand finds his almost constantly, proves how happy you are.

Ezra’s never been this happy. He’s never known someone who makes him feel so safe. Around you, Ezra can put his guard down. He doesn’t have to be so cryptic all the time. With you, Ezra can just exist.

Ezra’s hand finds its way into his pocket. His fingers wrap around a small stone.

He watches your hands accentuate each point you make. Ezra loves your hands. Especially your right hand; it’s the one he gets to hold when you walk beside him. It fits so perfectly in his. He loves the way your hands bury themselves in his hair when you kiss him. He loves how gentle they are when you’re patching him up. He pretends to hate it when you slip your hands under his shirt when you notice how cold they are just so you can press them against his chest and laugh at him when he squirms. Ezra loves that laugh.

He fidgets with the gem. He’s forgotten exactly how long it’s been there, though he remembers the day he got it as if it were yesterday. It was one of your first digs together. The gem was too small to be worth anything. So Ezra pocketed the stone, and it’s become a bit of an extension of himself.

Ezra watches your lips move in sync with your words. He loves your lips. The way they taste against his. The way they trace along his jaw when you’re teasing. Ezra’s kissed you a million times, and yet he always yearns for another.

“My Star,” he’d always say whenever you noted that he could never seem to stop kissing you, “a single touch shared with you could console even the most pained of men. And therefore, what motivation do I have to add to the distance between us?”

My Star. Ezra’s called you that… Forever. Ezra loves your name. But to call you his Star is a privilege only he has. Every time he says it, he remembers the countless times the two of you have laid on the ground, examining the night sky in search of constellations. No matter where you are, you always find a way to stargaze.

Through the window of your shared pod.

Passing glances through your helmet when the air outside isn’t safe to breathe.

But by far, Ezra’s favourite is when the air outside is breathable so you pull him outside to lay on the ground, held in each other’s embrace.

On those nights, you’ll continue to talk about the stars long after Ezra’s coaxed you inside to bed. He loves to fall asleep to the sound of your voice in one ear, the rhythm of your heartbeat in the other. Those nights fill Ezra’s chest with a lightness that washes away years of trauma.

But tonight, the stars are hidden behind a veil of clouds. Rain echoes through the trees outside. It reminds Ezra of the nights you’re curled under threadbare blankets and you’re whispering sweet nothings in Ezra’s ear.

Ezra smiles at this. Rainy days are his favourite. It stresses him that he often can’t work on those days, though in your company, that stress quickly melts away.

Ezra is never happier than when he’s with you.

___

Ten of Cups

“Star,” Ezra calls out to you.

You’re on your knees, elbow-deep in a sticky black mud. “Yeah?” you grunt back, nearly toppling forward into the mud in your distraction.

“The spoils of these pits appear to already have been claimed, and the sun is beginning to set.” Ezra sits back on his knees, pulling his arm from his own mud pit. “I suppose it’s time we get cleaned up for the remainder day.”

Ezra stifles a laugh at your disgusted grimace when you free your arms from the mud. After a brief examination of the sun-streaked sky, you let out a frustrated huff, pushing yourself to your feet.

“Yeah,” you give in. You have to resist the urge to wipe your hands on your clothing. You accept Ezra’s outstretched hand, lacing your fingers in his.

The stream isn’t far away—close enough that its inviting babbling has called out to you and Ezra all day.

Ezra leads you hand-in-hand to the edge of the murky water. He sinks to his knees first, wasting no time in submerging his arm into the icy liquid to wash away the itchy layers of chemically contaminated mud.

With a desperate splash, you follow close behind.

It’s jobs like these that makes Ezra wish gloves were a luxury the two of you could afford. But gloves strong enough to not break down upon contact with the mud would cost a fortune to buy and would require frequent replacements.

And so, after a long day buried in the acidic material, your arms are left itchy and raw. Ezra frantically rubs his forearm back and forth over a rock just below the surface of the water in a desperate attempt to wash himself clean, and, perhaps relieve some of the painful itch. If he notices the blood staining the water, he doesn’t care; in this moment, the temporary relief overpowers the regret that will later come from allowing the rock to break through his skin.

Ezra startles when your hands close around his wrist. Gently, You begin rubbing away the mud with your already clean hands. You’re conscious to take extra care around the steady trickle of blood.

“You’ll only make it worse like that,” you murmur, focusing your attention on making sure no mud is left under Ezra’s fingernails.

“Thank you,” Ezra closes his eyes in pleasure when you begin massaging his raw skin under the cloudy water to remove the last traces of mud.

“Mhm,” you reply absentmindedly and pull his hand from the water.

Ezra stands, hoisting you to your feet and pulling you into your shared pod.

You help each other dry off and spread an ointment over each other’s arms that makes tears of relief spring to Ezra’s eyes. After stripping yourselves free of your dirty clothes, Ezra collapses onto the cot, pulling you into his chest.

You shift until your head is resting on his shoulder and your body is curled around Ezra’s side leaving his arm free to reach what he needs to.

This position makes it difficult for Ezra to wrap his arm around you, but after a long day of work, neither one of you wants to move if he needs to reach something from the rusty bedside table.

You wrap your arms around your lover’s neck. Reflexively, Ezra’s fingers lift to find yours. He silently fidgets with the thin metal band around your finger, which had been returned to its rightful place upon arrival at the pod.

The pads of his fingers trace over the small gem embedded in the metal. Ezra smiles, remembering the cold winter’s day you’d finally said “I do.”

A soft chuckle escapes Ezra’s throat as he recalls the night you’d agreed to marry him, despite the many years you’d spent telling him about your distaste for the idea of being married.

“What’s that about?” you ask, not seeing a reason to laugh.

“I’m so fortunate to have you, Star,” Ezra whispers back, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You murmur and lean up to press a kiss to Ezra’s jaw, at the same place you always do; the little patch in his scruff, where Ezra seems unable to grow any hair.

You love those spots on either side of his face. “They’re built in places for me to kiss,” you’d always insist whenever Ezra was feeling insecure about his patchy stubble.

“Still?” Ezra asks. “You still love me after all these years?”

“Why not?” You can’t think of a single thing Ezra has ever done that might make you rethink your feelings. Sure, he has his habits that never fail to get on your nerves. But, if anything, that makes you love him all the more.

“You’re not growing exhausted by my presence?”

“How could I ever get bored of you?” You sit up enough to meet Ezra’s gaze. “I love you more than anything. If I didn’t, what reason would I have to follow you on all these jobs and crazy ideas you get to make a living?” You caress Ezra’s cheek with your knuckles. “Ezra, I stay because I love you. Those feelings are never going to change. And, if they do, it will be because I’ve fallen further in love with you. If that’s even possible.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Ezra smiles softly.

You let out a hum of contemplation. “I’m just here for the kisses,” you tease, placing a brief peck on his lips.

Ezra hums contentedly, and you snuggle back into his chest. After a few moments of a loving stillness, Ezra’s fingers find their way back to yours to toy with your ring.

“Do you remember the night I gave this to you?” Ezra whispers, tracing circles over the tiny gem.

“How could I forget?” You whisper back.

___

You finish your reading and lift your eyes to gauge Ezra’s reaction. A small smile tugs at his lips, but he doesn’t respond.

Silently, Ezra rises to his feet, gathering the cards and stowing them back in your bag.

“Lay down,” Ezra commands. With a grunt, he pulls a strange machine from under the cot. You obey, too curious to argue. Ezra shoves the machine to the centre of the floor.

Ezra switches off the lamp, plunging the tent into absolute darkness. “My mother had one of these when I was a child,” Ezra explains, “I had to construct this one from scrap parts, so it’s not as impressive as the one I grew up with.” With a soft click, the machine turns on and the ceiling is decorated with small flecks of light.

Ezra continues to explain, but you’ve already figured it out. “It’s the stars on Wehouf,” you interrupt with a gasp. Wehouf was where you first met Ezra.

Ezra lays on the cot beside you, wrapping you into a firm embrace.

“You built this for me?” you murmur in disbelief. How did he find time to work on this without you noticing?

“Took me two years,” Ezra presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “The majority of the parts I required aren’t easy to come by in the green.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“The entire time I was assembling it, I couldn’t help but meditate over how intensely I feel for you. I never thought I was capable of these feelings. When we first met, you were nothing more than an associate on an endeavour to make a living. I’m not certain when I fell in love,” Ezra’s hand slips under your shirt and he begins tracing gentle circles against your skin with his fingertips. “I don’t think I ever stopped falling. I don’t believe I ever want to. I crave to spend my whole lifetime by your side. I want to chart the view of the stars from every planet, every moon. And I want to do it with your hand in mine.”

“Ezra, I—” You start.

“You could count every single star in the sky, and still only know a fraction of the love I feel for you,” Ezra continues. “And I know you’ve expressed a distaste for it in the past,” Ezra shifts to pull the tiny gem from his pocket. Gently, he slips the metal band around your finger. A perfect fit. “But, I was hoping you’d consider marrying me? I wouldn’t expect it to be legal if that’s not what you want, but—”

“Of course I’ll marry you, Ezra,” You interrupt, shifting to meet his gaze. “I love you more than anything. If it makes you happy, of course, I’ll marry you. And besides, we’re out here alone a solid 98% of the time. So marriage can be whatever we want it to be. Right?”

Ezra breathes a sigh of relief. He wasn’t afraid of you saying no, per se, but he was terrified the question would make you uncomfortable and perhaps cause you to push him away.

“I know I can be an arduous man to love sometimes,” Ezra begins to tear up. “And I still think you deserve better than me. But, you make me exultant beyond any doubt, and you seem content by my side as well. I can’t promise that things will be perfect, because they most certainly won’t. But I will love you eternally, with every fibre of my being. And that, Star, is a promise.”

“Oh, Ezra,” you whisper, “I don’t expect things to always be perfect. I’ve lived with you long enough to know that life will go to shit. A lot. But I’ve also lived with you long enough to know it always ends up okay.” You rest your forehead against Ezra’s. “You deserve more than you think you do. I know you’ve made mistakes. Fuck, I’ve watched you make some seriously questionable decisions. To the point where I sometimes wonder how you’re still alive. But you have more love in this little tuft of hair than most people have in their whole body.” You gently tug on Ezra’s little blond patch of hair to emphasize your point. “And that’s all I care about.” You finish with a brief but passionate kiss.

Ezra doesn’t know how to respond. Tears threaten to escape down his cheeks. “Fuck,” he sobs, pulling you closer until your nose is buried in his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Ezra,” you hum.

Your fingers begin to toy with the ring on your finger. “How’d you manage to get this?” Ezra doesn’t even have to see to know what you’re talking about.

“The gem is from one of our first digs together,” He explains. “It was too diminutive to sell, but I couldn’t bring myself to dispose of it. I got it fixed with a ring two planets back.”

“That must’ve cost a fortune,” you say, suddenly feeling a bit guilty that he felt the need to do such a thing to please you. Sufficient jewellers aren’t easy to find this far out, and because of that, it can be quite expensive to so much as repair a simple ring.

“Nearly depleted my personal savings,” Ezra answers. “But I couldn’t think of a superior way to spend it; now whenever my gaze falls upon your hand, I am reminded of our years spent in each other’s presence.”

“You didn’t have to,” you kiss the soft skin at Ezra’s neck. “I’d have married you without it.”

“Do you not like it?” Ezra asks with a touch of panic to his voice.

“Oh, I love it,” you reassure. Ezra visibly relaxes. “I love everything you get for me.” You pull the ring off your finger to inspect it as you talk. It’s a simple band, with just enough width to have room for the gem embedded in the smooth metal. Upon closer examination, you find a tiny engraving inside. ‘I love you, my Star.’ “I love everything you do for me,” you turn your head to admire the speckles of light above you. You return the ring to your finger. “I always will. Just know I don’t expect to be spoiled. I enjoy it, but your love is enough for me.”

“I know, my Star,” Ezra sighs. “I can’t provide you the life of luxury you deserve. I enjoy doing what I can to make up for it.”

“I have everything I want right here.” You snuggle deeper into Ezra’s chest to admire the stars projected across the ceiling.

He doesn’t respond. For a few moments, the only sounds are the rain, the soft whirring of the star machine, and your breaths combined with Ezra’s. You never saw yourself in this position. But Ezra has a way of turning the lives of those around him upside down. And for you, it somehow feels right.

“I love you, my Star.”

“I love you too, Ezra.”

#ezra prospect #pedros12daysofchristmas #ezra x reader #Pedro Pascal

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aces-drew · 4 years ago

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a christmas rini hc bc the hsmtmts special revived me <3

just a cute lil christmas rini fim my bros, just some mushy christmas love shit for y’all hehehhe (not proofread sorry, it was just a braindump lmao)

ricky loved mistletoe growing up.

no seriously, he loved it.

ever since he was little, year after year, mistletoe was associated with everything that made him the happiest - the holidays, winter, ugly sweaters, being snug with someone you love, his parents happy and in love, and the best kind of warmth to overwhelm all the cold

his earliest memory of his parents truly in love was when he held some mistletoe up to their knees and they kissed above him with smiles on their faces and teeth clashing.

it seemed to evolve as sort of a tradition. every year since ricky was 5 years old, he held up the mistletoe for his mom and dad while the entire house smelled of nutmeg while the cinnamon rolls and chocolate chip cookies baked in the oven;

eventually his dad nagging him to do it once he hit double digits while he visibly (fake) gagged at how endearing his parents were for kissing under the mistletoe

until this year, there was nothing that could ruin the innocence of a kiss under the mistletoe

but here he was, winter break of junior year, with half a christmas tree up, his parent’s divorce finalised, his mom celebrating christmas with ted in chicago, his dad drunk on his days off work, and him eating microwaved thanksgiving turkey lunches (that are somehow still a thing) alone

if he wasn’t so fucking angry at all the exhaustion and sadness he was feeling, he might’ve has the emotional availability to cry about it (hint: he didn’t)

so he just resorted to the monotony of waking up every day, doing his homework (yeah it surprised him too dw), facetiming nini, and gaming to keep himself as distracted as he could, actively avoiding the holidays all together

and obviously nini knew the extent to which this all sucked for ricky :(

in addition to the guilt she was feeling leaving for denver in a few weeks, she hated the way ricky’s festive spirit was non-existent this year

she remembered them every year growing up, ricky resembling a puppy getting ready for a walk in the park with each day they got closer to christmas

ricky, even before them dating, having 4 christmas movie marathons planned for every saturday of the month for them to watch on nini’s couch

(die hard of course being one of them because YES, it is a christmas movie, and no, he didn’t take criticism)

her excitedly looking forward to cuddling with him underneath the only non-christmas coloured blanket he didn��t complain about nini keeping on the couch because he knew that it was her favourite blanket that they would inevitably end up cuddled under together

her moms obviously found them passed out on the couch snuggling, nini resting almost on top of ricky, them soundly sleeping with their stomachs full of hot cocoa and their hearts filled with love for each other (and yes the cheesiest and warmest christmas cheer)

god, they fucking loved each before they even knew what love was; if nini wasn’t already the hopelessly hopeless romantic she was, she could scream into a pillow about it

she was so thankful for ricky and the holidays, and ricky during the holidays. she always thought her favourite season was spring but seeing how much ricky loved winter, it was hard for it not to slowly become her’s too

so now as she sat facetiming him and he looked the saddest he’s ever looked, it was impossible for her not to scheme

after a few searches on pinterest and a re-watch of all the new girl christmas and thanksgiving episodes, she got her plan together

===========================================================

two days later, while ej, kourtney and big red took ricky out for a movie and some pizza, unbeknown to ricky, she used the hidden spare key to get in (break in) to his house

she knew that his dad had been working pretty late everyday this winter so she bet that some quality time with ricky was highly likely

after raiding ricky’s gummy worm stash from the second last drawer beside his kitchen counter, she got everything ready

===========================================================

‘this really is so nice of you guys, really’

ricky was incredibly thankful for his friends. he didn’t even know what he would do without them, but it was hard not to feel the sting of nini foregoing the movies for a workshop that her denver school was hosting

and of course he tried not to be bitter about it, he was so incredibly happy for her, she was the most talented person he knew, but it also sucked that he would have to do the rest of high school without his girlfriend, the person he loved most in the entire world

‘dude, don’t even sweat it... we know it’s been a rough winter’

and again, if two months ago you were going to tell ricky that ej was more an acquaintance to him, let alone a friend, he’d think something was perpetually wrong with the universe

but here he was, even empathetic

they had eaten, watched an overplayed zombie movie at the theatre and spend some good time together. and even though he was incredibly grateful for the quality time he’d spent with his friends, his social battery was low and his tiredness unrelenting.

so within twenty minutes, he was back on his driveway, taking a deep breath before bracing the Utah snow

===========================================================

once he walked through the door, he didn’t really even realise the entire living room re-arranged until the smell of his mom’s cinnamon rolls hit him

and then he processed all of it at once; a fort was set up in the middle of the room, the fully decorated christmas tree gleaming in its designated corner and christmas decor uplifting the entire space. fairy lights hung around the fort and the tv had been moved to level with it as muffled christmas sintra rung through the air

the entire gesture winded ricky.

‘hi’ nini’s voice piped shyly from the kitchen

‘hi’

it was safe to say that rick was indeed short-circuiting right now

‘oh my-’ ‘ricky i-’

he didn’t really wait, ‘no me first. what the actual fuck nini? what the actual he-? oh my- i don’t eve- oh my-’

luckily, nini wasn’t as winded, ‘i know christmas sucks this year, i know that everything seems wrong. but i love you and gina, ej, big red and kourtney love you, we’re here. i’m here. i wanted to something for the holidays, ya know? take some agency and plan the festivities for once.’

ricky was still pretty starstruck, ‘by the looks of it, i should definitely do this more.’

her soft giggles were only matched with tears pooling in ricky’s eyes. tears he was desperately trying to control from sliding down his cheeks. nothing had managed to lift this unnerving pressure he had pressed up on his chest till now. and now? now, he was elated. he felt like a fucking cloud. he was so relieved, and so so fucking thankful.

‘this-nini this? this is everything.’ and he meant it. the earnestness in his voice seemed to surprise nini, her eyes suddenly matching his glossy ones.

‘i love you.’ was all he managed to say as he rested his forehead on hers after hugging her, breathing in more of the nutmeg candles she’d lit.

‘one more thing.’

‘what?’

‘look up!’

and surely enough, mistletoe stared right back at ricky, ‘i know this is hard. i know it is,’ she said almost reading his mind, ‘so we make our own traditions y’know, new ones. happy ones. so i thought i’d start with this.’

and that was enough for him to kiss her; he tried to convey all the love and great-fullness and integrity and warmth and honesty he felt, how much she made him feel like he had a home in her, how comfortable she was, how indispensable. most of all, he wanted her to know how lucky he was to be loved by her.

when they finally broke apart, nini raced to the kitchen counter, and when she returned with her favourite non-christmas sunshine yellow blanket and a copy of the die hard dvd, he knew that this winter break was something he could survive.

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book-dragon-etcetera · 3 years ago

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Why Mantis and Loki should be a thing; fight me (please don’t I swear I’m nice).

What makes a good relationship subplot? Actually, scratch that – this is the MCU, we don’t go for mediocrity – what makes the best relationship subplots? It can vary, but my favourites, the ones that keep me digging and digging, coming back every time I think of a new angle (you’re in the fandom tags, you know what I’m talking about) always tie into the wider story. They feed character growth; allow new concepts to be explored; fit in with and in some cases represent the greater themes of a story.

In case you haven’t guessed, I’m going to be arguing that Loki and Mantis could be something along those lines. Something great. One of the best, most interesting relationships of modern screenwriting. I know, okay!! I know, it feels weird as anything – it’s taken me a while, too. But bear with me, and worst-case scenario, you’ll have a new take on a fascinating pair of characters.

Before I put the two together though, I feel like I need to do a little character study for Mantis. So far, she has had little to no clear development and without serious thought of your own, she seems entirely one-dimensional; two at best. In case you have not plugged hours and hours of thought into a character with barely ten minutes of screen-time, here are some of my thoughts, free of charge 😊. Incidentally, the interpretation I take to enhance my viewing experience (and add suitably crippling levels of angst :D ) ties her in perfectly with Loki’s story and character.

More Than Just a Bug: A Minor Study

What we know: Mantis has spent her whole life in servitude to Ego a massively powerful being, intent on taking over the universe, who sees all other life as inferior, insect-like (hence the name ‘Mantis’ – happenstance in the comics, derogatory in the films). Whether she has ever met anyone else is unclear, and until we actually see her talk about it, we’ll never know. Going by her comfort in talking to the Guardians, and also the fact that she anticipates the result of Ego’s meeting with Peter, I’m going to assume she has, but more specifically, that they were Ego’s other children.

Imagine this, if you will. Mantis, since her childhood, has been intermittently exposed to Ego’s offspring. They appear, are doted on for a few days, and then vanish as suddenly as they came. Not having been delayed by the Ravagers that collected them (as Peter was), they are all young children, with strong but changeable emotions. As such, they fit Ego’s narrative of universe full of mindless beasts, unthinking and impermanent. If Mantis were not an empath, able to feel their distress and confusion at the kidnapping, they would have no impact on her at all. As it is, they give her no epiphany, but rather a slow sense of unease that grows over time, as child after child is reduced to a pile of bones in a cave.

Her uncertainty must of course be hidden from Ego, who may be too narcissistic to imagine she could ever turn against him, but would certainly kill her if he saw her doubts, so she separates herself from the feeling. Her outer self remains uncomplicated and pliant, still attempting to please her adoptive father-figure, while her inner self languishes in steadily deepening turmoil. She dissociates to survive, until she almost believes it herself.

Now let’s try looking at her scene with Drax, where she touches his arm by the flower-filled lakes, through this new lens.

BEWARE. THIS SCENE WILL BECOME SIGNIFICANTLY MORE PAINFUL IF YOU ASSIMILATE THIS INTERPRETATION.

To recap: Mantis has spent her life in a state of slowly growing unease over the pain, suffering and subsequent deaths of Ego’s many children. Her only comfort has been his assurances that all other life is meaningless, and as such their suffering weightless. By Mantis’s own design, this inner struggle has been buried deep, totally inaccessible. Therefore, she goes into this scene entirely intending to allow Ego to kill the Guardians, and if Peter is successful, the universe.

Alright, here goes:

So, Mantis seems normal (normal??) for the first section. She reacts suitably when Drax calls her ugly, and then when he argues that it’s a good thing. When he mentions his lost daughter, she makes a joke (incidentally the sort of play-a-crooked-thing-straight joke that Loki might enjoy), but then Drax compares his daughter to Mantis, calling them both ‘innocent’, and she makes this face when he isn’t looking at her.

This is not a naïve look, and I don’t think it’s meant to be. The tiniest edge of that inner guilt, her natural empathy for the terrible fates of Ego’s children, is bleeding through against her will, brought to the surface by a father mourning the loss of his daughter. Wanting to understand, and partly in fear of what she might find there, she reaches for his arm.

When she feels his grief, she is physically affected, taking large gasps of air with glittering eyes. It’s easy to forget, but in some ways, Drax is the most emotionally developed of the Guardians. He had a wife, and daughter, and a home. He’s lived through what most of us would determine a normal life, and reached middle age. Quill, Gamora, Groot – they’re all younger than him, and therefore less emotionally developed. (I have no idea what age Rocket is, but at least by maturity he can certainly be added to the list.) This level of experience is where Drax’s moments of unexpected wisdom come from. He is a fully realised person with all the complexities and regrets that come with age, something Mantis has never felt in anyone except Ego. And he is mourning his daughter.

When she touches his arm, Mantis is feeling one of the worst losses, the deepest hurts that a person can ever experience, even dulled by years: the loss of a child. But for her, it’s even more than that. It’s personal. She realises in that moment that on the other end of every one of Ego’s children was someone like Drax, feeling what he felt. That they were still out there in the universe, mourning the sons and daughters that Mantis had met. It tilts her world on its axis, and we get a close-up to watch it:

This is her guilt, her worst fears validated. She can no longer use the ‘we’re just insects anyway’ justification to excuse the cavern of bones. Every tiny doubt she has ever had now has an explanation, and it means she has grown up complicit to atrocities she couldn’t even recognise. Upset, and guilty that he still believes her innocent, she turns immediately to Drax, knowing she can no longer stand by do nothing. They are interrupted by Gamora before Mantis can explain, so later that night, knowing she cannot bear being complicit yet again to murder, Mantis wakes Drax and betrays Ego, despite her fear and love for someone who has been (literally) her whole world.

Go watch the scene thinking about Mantis's guilt, I dare you. I did, and it hurt me.

By the end of GotG2, we have a Mantis still conditioned to serve the father she has now killed. His teachings have left her with crippling self-doubt, and a sense of personal inferiority that as of yet we have not seen her question, despite a truly incredible level of power (subduing first Ego – an actual planet – and then Thanos; I’ll go into her frightening Gamora later), and her own heroism. She is incapable of being righteously angry at Ego, because righteously implies right, something it does not occur to her that she might have. And she hides it all, because over the years she has built an unconscious self-defence mechanism which allows her to control people’s actions towards her by seeming harmless and sweet. The ultimate deflector of aggression.

What her motives and feelings might be now she has found her freedom, I also have some thoughts on, but that is a topic for another day (possibly a Loki including day, hmm?). I feel like it’s important to mention that, although this is a dark interpretation, that doesn’t mean I think Mantis is a dark character. There is inherent darkness in the horror of her past, but some of the best and brightest people in the world are people who have been to hell and back, and come back kinder for it. One day, when she has learnt some self-worth, and ditched the clothes that she wore as a slave to a monster, I think she could be one of the best, most impressive, and nuanced heroes we have ever seen.

#marvel #marvel mcu #character study #mantis #loki laufeyson #gotg vol 2 #gotg 2 #fanfic #ao3 author #expand your horizons #short essay #pom klementieff #drax the destroyer #angst #empaths #headcannons

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mgg-theprettiestboy · 4 years ago

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cross my heart (pt. 4)

spencer reid x oc

‘to secure peace, is to prepare for war.’

karl von clausewitz

cross my heart masterlist

word count: 2836

Spencer decided he didn't want to just be a casual acquaintance any more. He had almost died on his most recent case, and while this was a more common occurrence, something about this time was different. And he decided not to waste any more time, and to stop being such a chicken.

He offered a small smile to Raye from across the cafe once he saw her. It was ten at night, which was fairly early for both of them to be there. She held up the book she was reading, making him grin as he saw it. She had finally agreed to give War And Peace a read, and was slowly making her way through it.

He could only pretend to read, his own thoughts distracting him. There was an open lecture that he knew she would be interested in, and had already reserved two seats. Now, he just had to build up the confidence to ask.

It took him an hour.

But eventually, Spencer had finished his book a hundred times over, and his coffee had gone cold. There was no more avoiding it. He stood, walking over to Raye’s table. Her tongue was sticking out of the side of her mouth as she focused on her book, and Spencer had to bite back a laugh when she jumped in surprise, “oh! You scared me!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. You were very engrossed,” he said with a fond smile. She smiled in return, “yeah, well, a book like this requires all my attention. I still have to google what half the words mean.”

He chuckled, before they fell into a kind of awkward silence. Spencer cleared his throat, before speaking again, “I was actually wondering... uh. There’s an open lecture on this weekend, it’s called ‘The Queen of English Literature Debate,’ Jane Austen versus Emily Bronte. The guest lecturer is flying in all the way from Scotland to travel around America, giving the lecture in different universities, and from the reviews I’ve read on it, it’s supposed to be amazing. Is that... something you would be interested in going to? Maybe with me?”

Raye blinked up at him, before her lips parted, as if she was going to say something, but then didn't. She repeated this a few times. Spencer was confused if he had rendered her speechless, or if she was having a stroke.

“Are you asking me out?” She eventually managed to choke out. He furrowed his eyebrows, before nodding, “yeah, I am. If thats okay.”

As if she finally realised what was happening, her eyes zoned in on hid face, and her expression softened at seeing his confused one, “I’m sorry, I just... it’s been a while. I don't go on a lot of dates. That sounds weird, I just mean that I don't get asked out a lot.”

His lips quirked up at her nervous rambling, before shaking his head, “I didn't think it sounded weird. I don't either. Go on a lot of dates, that is.”

She sighed softly in relief, before smiling softly, “so, Austen vs Bronte, huh? What do you think? Who’s the Queen?”

“I like to go into these sorts of debates with an unbiased opinion. I don't really favour one or the other, and I like to see if the lecturer can sway me. They usually can't, but its always fun,” he said with a chuckle, “it’s on Saturday, at Georgetown University. I could meet you here, say at three, and we can walk together?”

Raye smiled and nodded at the suggestion, “that sounds perfect.”

“Okay, perfect, great,” he said with a grin, “I will see you then.” His choice of words was not reflecting his intellect right now. He had a stupid grin on his face as he fumbled his way back to his table, collecting his things to leave and go home, and actually sleep for once. But the butterflies in his stomach thought otherwise, and he figured he it would be a struggle to fall asleep. Not that he was complaining.

–

“That was intense. Seriously, Spencer, that had me sweating!”

Spencer laughed as he walked alongside Raye as they left the lecture hall, “right? The professor was flawless with his criticisms. I don’t think I can decide who wins though, Bronte or Austen.”

“Hmm, me neither. I mean, I’ve always had a soft spot for Austen, but Bronte is just so damn good,” Raye said with a frown, “but in saying that, I wrote my college dissertation on Austen, so I guess the at already picks for me.”

“You wrote your dissertation on Jane Austen?” Spencer looked to her in surprise, as she grinned and nodded, “mhm. A cross analysis of Darcy and Elizabeth’s relationship, to the relationship of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth. It was genius, to be honest, an easy A. There was so much content, I could write for days on end and never run out of things to say.”

He laughed as she did, nodding in agreement, “that’s.... wow. I would love to read it, sometime.”

She glanced to him in surprise, nodding slowly with a blush, “I mean, it’s not brilliantly written. It didn’t get top marks or anything–“

“Hey,” he cut her off by taking her hands in his, looking down at her as her wide eyes looked up to him, “I bet it’s amazing. It sounds interesting, really.”

She bit her bottom lip, and tried to ignore the way Spencer’s eyes darted down to her mouth when she did, “okay. I’ll print off a copy of it for you sometime.”

“Great,” he said with a smile. He moved one of his hands away, but kept his other hand on hers. She blushed lightly, moving her hand to curl around his and hold it. He felt his heart leap at her returning the gesture, smiling softly at her, before looking down at his feet, “I had a good time today. I know we didn't exactly do a lot of talking for a first date, but...”

He didn't know what else to add, but he didn't have to, as she laughed, “don't be silly, I had fun. Besides, I already feel like I know you... is that weird to say?”

“No, not at all. I feel like I know you too. I suppose it’s from the books,” Spencer said as they left the lecture hall. He didn't know where they were walking to, but he wasn't about to complain. He didn't want the day to end. She furrowed her brow, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, from reading the books you enjoy, I feel like I know you,” he said with a shrug. Raye hummed, “oh yeah? Go ahead then. What am I like?”

He laughed slightly, looking ahead of them as he spoke, “you're a romantic; thats an obvious one. You love adventure, you love to escape through books. You hate horror, and anything scary, and you hate sad endings. You empathise with the bad guys. So, from all of this, I can tell that you’re sweet. You probably love animals, and definitely love children. You won't do something big unless you're pushed to, because as much as you love adventure, you only get it through reading. And you’ve... you’ve probably been hurt before, maybe by someone you care about or someone you know. Because you empathise with the villain, even when they're in the wrong. You’re considerate. And definitely a scardey-cat.”

Raye stayed silent as he profiled her through her book choices, and afterwards. Spencer immediately felt regret rise in him. He couldn't believe that he already screwed it up on the first date. He tried to apologise, “I-I didn't mean to-”

“I haven't been hurt by someone close to me, but I have been hurt, in a... in a strange way. But... I mean, I always try to see the best in people, no matter what. As difficult as that sometimes is,” she said. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb lightly, a look of curiosity on her face, “how did you figure all that out from the books I read?”

He relaxed at seeing that he didn't offend her, offering her a small smile, “I’m good at what I do.”

She was about to ask what he meant, before he let go of her hand to open the door for her. It was only then she realised they had managed to wander back to The Hideout. She smiled and went inside, going over to find a free table. It was busy, considering it was Saturday afternoon, and not the middle of the night.

He ordered two hot chocolates, figuring it was a safe bet, before going to the table to sit across from her, “I ordered two hot chocolates, I hope that’s okay.”

Raye smiled and nodded, “of course it is. I have a sweet tooth.”

“Me too. I always add an unhealthy amount of sugar to my coffee,” Spencer said, and she gasped, “me too! Tamara always scolds me, she says all my teeth will fall out. I also put a bunch of milk in it too. God, I don't know how people drink it without milk. It’s gross!”

“I completely agree!” He said, as they both laughed. He had the urge to talk her hand again. “I had a lot of fun today,” she hummed happily, resting her head in her hand as the hot chocolates were delivered to their table, “seriously. It was so much better than ‘dinner and a movie.’”

“Well, I didn't want to be stereotypical. And the first time I met you, you were literally buried in books, I figured this would be a good idea,” he said with a grin, as Raye scoffed and spluttered, “that wasn't my fault! Tamara loves to mess with me, but I’m too stubborn to give in. Hence my struggle with the bookshelf.”

Spencer laughed, and they continued to talk until they had finished their drinks. While he initially thought they were so similar, he was beginning to see that he wasn't entirely right. Yes, they had their similarities. But she was so much more than he expected. He found out she had a cat, called Dickens (she called him Dick, for short), and he was a ginger tabby cat. He found out she loved house plants, but struggled to keep them alive. Her favourite movie growing up was Peter Pan, and she had a bad habit of buying candles that she doesn't need.

Spencer never wanted the day to end. But sooner rather than later, the sun set on the drizzly November day, and the conversation seemed to come to a natural pause. Raye glanced outside, and cleared her throat she she saw it was dark, and used the moment of silence to say, “I should probably head home. My sleeping schedule... its a little backwards. I’m usually awake at night, and sleep during the day. Because of my work hours.”

Spencer didn't want to, but nodded, “oh, yeah, of course. I never asked, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m in accounting,” she said, smiling slightly. He could tell it was forced, “not my dream job, but hey, a job’s a job.”

“Oh. I could've sworn Tamara said you worked with the stock market, or something,” he frowned. She shrugged it off, “sometimes I do an odd job.”

“Okay. Well... I can walk you home. Which direction are you headed?” Spencer asked as he stood alongside Raye. She began to shake her head, lifting her bag and clutching it to her chest, “no, don't. I mean, I don't need you to do that.”

“No, I insist, really. It’s dark outside, and you never know,” he stressed, as Raye continued to shake her head, reiterated, “I’m telling you, I’ll be fine.”

“I just want to make sure you get home safe,” Spencer insisted, feeling kind of defeated at her rejection. She didn't seem to notice his reaction, snapping, “I said no!”

They stared at each other for a minute, before Raye just looked away, stuffing her purse and phone into her bag. Spencer tried to ignore the hurt he felt, speaking softly as he put his hands in the pockets of his coat, “I-I’m sorry. I wasn't trying to... to go home with you, or anything, I swear-”

“No, I know,” Raye said, her tone now gentle. She sighed softly, slinging her bag over her shoulder, “I’m just pretty paranoid about my security, I guess. I live alone.”

He nodded slowly, reaching into his satchel and pulling out his badge, “I don't suppose this would ease your worries?”

She furrowed her brow, taking what he handed to her to see what it was. He couldn't ignore the way she seemed to become even more tense at seeing what it was, and the way her hands gripped the badge just a little bit tighter.

All she could say was, “I thought you were a doctor?”

“I-I am. I have three PHDs. None of them are medical, though. I’m with the Behaviour Analysis Unit,” he explained. Raye’s voice was small, “you're a profiler. That explains how you were able to figure me out through books.”

Something about her tone unsettled Spencer. He thought that she would feel safer, knowing that he worked in the FBI. So why was she more alarmed than before?

“I’m so sorry for getting angry,” Raye apologised, smiling guiltily as she handed him his badge back. She ignored the warmth she felt when their hands brushed. Spencer smiled at her, “it’s okay. I’m sorry for trying to force the matter. But you can imagine why.”

She nodded fervently, before growing some confidence and taking his hand in hers, “would you walk me home? I live about three blocks away.”

Spencer felt his heart skip a beat, intertwining their fingers and nodding, as his cheeks began to glow. He stuck close by her side, as they walked down the streets of the city towards her apartment block. They came to a stop outside an old red brick building, but from the front door, Spencer could tell it must be renovated on the inside.

“Today was great,” Raye said tenderly, a warm smile on her face, “really. I had fun. If you’d like, we could do something like this again sometime.”

Spencer returned the smile, “I would love that. As long as you promise to have read War and Peace by then.”

She gawped and laughed, before groaning playfully, “oh come on, it’s just so boring. But for you, I will try. That’s all I can promise.”

“Good enough for me,” he chuckled, looking down at her as they stood face to face. She bit her bottom lip, before letting out a sigh.

“Are you going to kiss me, or am I going inside?” She quipped, as Spencer raised his brows. He smiled ever so slightly, moving to cup her cheek and lean down closer, “I will...”

Raye smiled softly, leaning into his hand as he moved closer so his lips were merely an inch away, “...once you finish the book.”

Her jaw dropped as he moved away, a triumphant smile on his face as she stammered, “you-! I just... that was cruel. Truly, and sincerely cruel. You will pay for that, Doctor, mark my words.”

“I will,” he laughed, lifting her hand that he held to kiss the back of her hand, “but until then, I bid you farewell.”

“Farewell. God knows when we shall meet again,” Raye said, taking a step backwards to walk to her building, as Spencer took a step back too, “Wilde?”

“Shakespeare,” she giggled, as they continued to walk their separate ways. Spencer made sure to stay within sight until he watched her walk through the door. She glanced back once she reached the door, smiling and waving goodbye to him, which he returned with a smile of his own. He was able to walk home with a peace of mind once he had seen her go into her building.

Raye scaled the stairs of her building with a stupid grin on her face, practically skipping up the stairs. It had been so long since her life had felt so normal. So long since she felt like she did right now; like a school girl crushing on a cute boy. She would do anything to make this feeling last forever. She should have known it wouldn't last.

She slowed as she approached her apartment, seeing the door open an inch, her cat sitting at the door.

And just like that, her good mood was completely gone, as she felt her heart stop, and her palms grow sweaty. She never forgot to lock her door. Ever.

She didn’t even bother to go inside, didn’t care to see if anything was missing or gone. She scooped up Dickens into her arms and ran back to the staircase, running all the way down while diling the number of the one person who could help.

–

cliff hangerrrrrr >:)

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fullsunhyuckie · 5 years ago

Text

our story, right now

pairing: model!doyoung x stylist!reader

synopsis: in which doyoung could never keep his stylist around for long but maybe, with you, it will be possible.

genre: fluffy angst (if that makes sense)

word count: 5,726

a/n: i enjoyed writing this a lot and i hope you’ll enjoy reading it too! oh and fyi, doyoung is my favourite member to write about.

in life, you’re bound to meet people and it’s always for a reason. sometimes you meet people at the right place and the right time. sometimes you meet them at the wrong place, but the right time. and sometimes you meet them at the wrong place and the wrong time. nonetheless, they serve an impact or two in your life.

you really don’t know how you landed this job. one day you were a chemical engineering degree holder and the next you were a stylist at a famous modelling agency. it all didn’t add up, but somehow it worked. you were offered this job by a close friend of yours, johnny, after hearing your tireless complaints on the lack of demand for female workers in your field. to help you out, he decided to apply a job for you that is way out of your league. now, that’ll shut you up.

so here you were standing at the entrance of the modelling agency, shaking with fear that they’ll doubt your capabilities, which of course you lack thereof. but like all the exams you had to ace in university, you looked at this as just another one of them. so you entered with your head held high, confident that you'll get through it. this is going to be easy, you thought to yourself.

maybe you should’ve done a thorough research about the company and its background because when you entered, the interior of the building really astounded you. the design was exquisite, very reflective of its well-known reputation. you were directed to the CEO’s room for further instructions. you were starstruck by all the ravishing faces of the models that decorated the entire walkway towards your destination. there was no doubt you were feeling anxious.

“good morning, y/n! it’s such a pleasure to meet you. i’m glad that we can employ you on such short notice. you were recommended to me by my son’s friend so i trust your skills. we can introduce you to our model immediately!” the chairman, Mr Lee, spoke as soon as he entered.

you gave him a tight smile as soon as he said ‘trust your skills’, instantly hoping the ground would swallow you whole. you nodded and replied with a soft thank you.

as if on cue, a tall, dark haired man entered the room. he was lean and very attractive, so attractive that you almost forgot you were here for work. he fits into all the stereotypes of a model; tall, skinny and handsome, coupled with a cold exterior.

“this is doyoung. he’s our up and coming model. his previous stylist recently quit,,but that's okay since we have you now. i hope you are able to work well with him for the next couple of weeks. for now, you can get acquainted to his style. off you two go!” Mr Lee ended with a chirp.

you politely bowed and made your way out the door, scurrying behind doyoung. you followed behind him as the man himself walked alongside his manager. you shuffled you feet, wondering where he’s going to go. he stopped abruptly, causing you to bump into him. you were no longer facing his back when he swiveled his body, making you come face to face with his chest.

“just to inform you, i like things done in a certain way, in a professional manner. for today, my shoot requires a natural makeup look so make sure it looks natural." he turned away, but looked at you from the corner of his eye. "and don’t walk so close to me.”

psh what a diva he is. you just nodded as a form of acknowledgement and proceeded to doll him up. you tried your best to look confident, but truth be told, you don’t know what goes where. but lucky for you, doyoung said natural look, so you assumed that it just meant powder, some light eye-shadow and lip balm.

so you went with just that. thank god doyoung fell asleep throughout the process and his manager was too focused on his phone. as if all odds were in your favour, nobody was able to catch you struggling. you patted him, signalling that you were done and he started his shoot. looking at the outcome, you were immensely proud of yourself.

after about 40 mins, doyoung came back, in need of a touch up. you internally panic because, ??? do i just add on what i put previously. on the outside, you tried to remain composed and proceeded to add the powder and a tad bit of blush. after you were done, doyoung looked into the mirror and back at you a few times, suspiciously, before making his way out the door.

his next look was a biker concept. with your lack of awareness on colour contrasts, you somehow managed to pick the ugliest shade of pink with a white biker jacket. when you proudly showed doyoung, he gave you a stink eye and you responded that you were just kidding. you then picked out the most basic white t shirt with a black biker jacket. you search for a disapproving look, only to realise it was an okay option. when doyoung saw the way you acted, he had serious doubts about you but he chose to trust Mr Lee.

after you were done getting him ready, you watched him from afar. when you saw how he would strike poses, you thought wow he is talented. modelling came so naturally to him. if you had half the good looks this man had, you're sure you are able to have anything in life. doyoung really appeared to be a perfect man, of course apart from his cold personality.

that night, you went home with a goal to learn a little about fashion. all your life you’d been book smart so you were unsure how to go about learning something hands-on. eventually, you decided to get a guide on fashion from the bookstore and religiously read it. to be honest, fashion for someone like you was tough. most days you went out with a hoodie and either skinny jeans or straight cut jeans. you didn’t want to admit it but maybe you should’ve spoken less about wanting a job.

you return the next day at the same time, only to realise doyoung wasn’t around. you believed it was the perfect time to read your fashion guide. you whipped out the book along with some highlighters, just like how you used to do it it university, to mark out important fashion advice. you tried to memorise them by repeating it out loud, not noticing doyoung standing behind you.

“y/n? isn't that an odd way to learn about fashion?” you heard his voice .

“oh hahaha. well, i mean i’m so lucky to have you to experiment fashion on so i need to brush up my theory." you hurriedly replied and tried to change the subject. "anyways, good morning doyoung!” you continued, all flustered.

he nodded slightly and proceeded to sit in front of you. you tossed your book aside and turned towards him. you were shocked to be greeted by such an attractive face right in front of yours. you cleared your throat, trying to ignore the blaring awkwardness. he seemed to notice how flustered you were and it boosted his ego, internally smiling at your reaction.

for today's concept, he had to look like an artist. the outfit and light makeup was relatively easy. but of course he had to make you life harder. he suggested that you put a beret on him. not only do you not know how to put on a beret, but you don't even know what it is in the first place.

you discreetly tried to google what it was and fortunately, you were able to find a black beret in the room. after about thirty seconds of contemplating how to put it on him, you decided, to hell with this, and just shoved the hat onto his head. he was taken aback and abruptly moved backwards, giving you a, what the hell?!, look.

"oh, i apologise. this is how i work. i just put things on and then i’ll adjust it to your liking afterwards. so tell me, do you like this style?" you awaited his reply. "well, i guess you don't like it, huh?"

"you guess?” he scoffed. “whatever, i'll just put it on myself. you know, you're really weird." doyoung said as he furrowed his eyebrows.

after he left, you started to panic. you were sure he found out you were a fraud. you called the only person who knew about this, johnny. when he answered you were relieved because at least you could calm yourself down with someone. he tried to assure you that you were going to be fine but you knew that as each day passes, he'll be more suspicious of you and will eventually find out.

"johnny, it's just a matter of time before he's going to realise i'm a fraud. he's not that stupid, you know. he's been giving me weird looks. i'm sure he's got an idea that i know nothing about fashion." you whined to johnny.

then you heard someone tapping their foot behind you. you seriously have got to stop turning your back towards the door. you were praying it is not who you think it will be. but at this point, anyone who found out about you is going to cost you a hell lot.

after telling Johnny that you had to go, you hung up and slowly turned around. there he was, standing there with his cold expression and giving you his familiar disapproving look. you acted innocent and asked him what he was doing here.

"i needed to touch up my make up but,,,i guess i can't have someone unskilled to do so, am i right?" he answered in disbelief. "oh god, i can't believe Mr Lee would employ someone unprofessional. i need to inform him about this and have you leave immediately."

the moment you heard that, you ran to him and held his arm before he could turn around. he looked down at your pleading look, full of confusion.

“fine i don’t know anything about fashion and i know this is wrong but please let me keep this job for a while longer. i really need the money. i promise i’ll learn about fashion along the way and do my best even if i’m lacking. please, doyoung...” you pleaded, on the verge of tears.

if doyoung was a little bit meaner, he would’ve left you right there and went straight to Mr Lee’s office. to be very honest, he wanted to do just that. but at that moment, he didn’t know how but his heart soften for a bit. he didn’t felt the burning urge to go by the rules for once. maybe it was your doe eyes or how tight you held on to him but he could tell you were genuine.

he lightly brushed your hold away and looked at you straight in the eye, with a much softer gaze but still full of tension.

“fine. you get to keep this job but you leave by the time you can afford not having a job. until then, i will expect perfect work from you.” he instructed.

for the first time in a while you felt extreme joy rush through your body. there were no words to describe your gratefulness so instead you let your body show it. both your hand shot up and you embraced him. although he didn’t respond, you can feel him tense up in your hands. and despite the lack of response, you could hear how nervous he was when you pressed your ear against his chest. even if doyoung tried to explain your impact on him, he couldn’t.

everyday, you would learn something new at work. like last week, you learnt how to put on wax for doyoung, though he scolded you for not knowing the difference between pomade and wax. you also learnt that some brands of lip tints can be used for blush, that one came as a shock. now that you could openly study fashion, it was way easier. you didn’t have to live a double life, pretending you know a thing or two about it.

today, you were tasked to add glitter on doyoung’s under-eye. they told you to put on adhesive before applying the glitter but all you could think was why would someone want to put such strong glue on another’s face???

later you found out, a less intense adhesive could be used for face. to your pleasure, you found one on the make up table and instructed the man himself to sit before you.

“it’s just glue and glitter. glue and glitter. there’s literally no way you can mess that up.”

"don't worry about it, trust me on this."

"i wish i could say i do."

but, to nobody’s surprise, you did mess up. somehow the cap of the glue was stuck and you had to yank it open. you successfully pulled open the cap but before you knew it your fist landed on doyoung face. it was a light punch but you panicked.

however, seeing his widened eyes and lips apart you couldn’t help but laugh. you knew you shouldn’t but it was a funny sight. his expression turned from one of anger to amusement. at the back of your head you were still aware he was mad so you decided to crack a joke.

“i was just wondering why they needed to put glitter on a face that’s already shining so brightly." you laughed. "that must be why the accident happened. well, i’m so sorry about that, doyoung!"

you were surprised to see him give you an impressed smirk. doyoung had to acknowledge that it was a good attempt to make him laugh. if he had much less ego, he would’ve. but for now a smirk would do.

once you were done with the glitter, you couldn’t help but stare at doyoung. it was crazy how you could be surprised by him every day. he was like an enigma of attractiveness. everyday you figure out something new and interesting about him. you could look at him all day.

he was able to tell that you were staring so he cleared his throat since he was unable to move out of his seat if you didn’t move. you almost fell off your chair when you realised he caught you staring.

he softly chuckled and was just about to leave before he turned around to tell you, “uhh good job by the way,,,i really like today’s look.”

that was it. that was all it took to make you feel like a champ. being complimented by doyoung is probably a close second to your life’s biggest accomplishment, after graduating. you gave him wink and mouthed a thank you before he proceeded for his shoot while you picked his next fit. it was going to be a good day.

it was crazy that a man’s hair can be styled in so many ways. who knew that such short hair could actually be made more interesting? you hated that you couldn’t test it out on anyone since doyoung only wanted you to give him hairstyles that you have mastered in. what an insane man he is.

during lunch, you sat beside doyoung and his manager. of course he didn’t invite you to sit there but you chose to. he was the only person you knew well in the company, apart from his manager and Mr Lee. the modelling field is a scary one, you were afraid to make friends. so as doyoung was busy eating and discussing his schedule with his manager, you were by his side reading a magazine about mens’ hairstyle. you tried to be as quiet as possible but your aggressive page turning caught doyoung’s attention.

“if you wanted me to talk to you, you can just say it. you don’t have to make a scene here.”

“oh no no. i’m just stressed. i didn’t mean to be loud.” he cocked his eyebrow at you.

“i just didn’t know that there’re so many hairstyles for men. i can’t keep doing the same one for you. plus you want me to perfect the hairstyles before trying it on you but i don’t know who to try it on.” you whined, subtly implying for him to give you a break.

he only gave you a big sigh and continued talking to his manager.

what you didn’t realise was that doyoung kept stealing glances at you as he continued his conversation. he was really impressed by your determination. no other stylist has gone out of their way to fit his style.

after lunch, you had an hour and a half before doyoung’s next schedule. you settled for the dressing room to watch hairstyle tutorials. about 10 mins into the video, you heard a thump on the seat in front of you. there doyoung was, in all of his glory, barefaced with hair in a mess.

“hurry up. you have the next hour and 15 mins to use my hair. better use it wisely.” he explained and ready to surrender his face and hair into your hands.

his contrasting fierce expression over such a sweet move made you even more confused as to what he wanted out of this. when you were about to move away, doyoung decided to encourage you to experiment on him. he sighed as he took your hands in his and placed it on his head.

“it’s okay. i trust you.”

as weeks go by, you start to believe doyoung is warming up to you. getting a reaction from him takes at least ten tries before you receive a one second reaction.

the other day, you were trying to put on make up as a means to try out new looks on yourself. you never noticed that all this while doyoung was looking at you. being fully aware of how dumb you looked trying to curl your eyelashes, you would expect a reaction from doyoung when you saw him.

but one of pure genuine entertainment was not what you expected. he gave you a gummy smile, followed by a deep laughter which was a sound so foreign to you.

as a joke, with a hint of honesty, you wanted to capture this historic moment. you whipped out your phone to get a picture but as soon as you did that, he was back to his expressionless self. this man is really one of a kind.

a few weeks after that incident, you had a schedule with him for the last shoot of his magazine feature. it was an outdoor shoot so you had to deal with him in a tiny makeshift dressing room.

you were trying to put on his eye makeup but it was so hard to manoeuvre in the tiny space. every time you moved, you would hit something or someone. although in terms of styling doyoung you were doing a brilliant job, you created a huge commotion as you were continuously hitting people and knocking things over.

eventually, doyoung got so annoyed at your clumsiness that he felt the need to open his eyes and glare at you. you were waiting for him to nag or snap at you, causing you to flinch slightly.

but instead, you felt someone’s touch on your waist as they began wrapping their arms around it. you opened your eyes and were pleasantly surprised to see it was him. and then suddenly he pulled you onto his lap, making you sit sideways while facing him. it was awkward but sitting on his lap felt right, like the missing piece to a perfect image of the both of you.

as if the action didn’t affect him, doyoung shut his eyes once again and waited for you to continue putting on makeup for him.

"aren't you going to continue?" and so you did just that, all flustered.

he began asking you casual questions, making you wonder if you were really talking to doyoung. it was as if he genuinely wanted to talk to you.

“have you eaten? the caterer today prepared a pretty good spread of food.” he asked, while shaking his leg up and down to get your attention.

you answered despite the irregularity in his personality. with every other question he asked, you started to grow more and more comfortable on his lap. so comfortable that you didn’t even notice that he still had his arms wrapped around you.

you��ve been working with doyoung for a few months now. largely, he had been preparing for a major magazine feature. on the night of the magazine issue release, there was a party organised to celebrate the success. he told his manager that he wanted you there with him so that he could have someone to touch up his make up on short notice. in reality, he really just wanted you to be there with him as his plus one.

when you asked him why you had to be the plus one when he can just find anyone else to be there with him. he told you, “no reasons needed.”

picking a dress for yourself seemed to be the hardest part of working with doyoung. not only do you not wear dresses, but you can’t even imagine yourself in one. as a last resort, you remembered the dress your mom advised you to wear for prom, which you decided wasn’t worth going. since this is probably the closest thing to prom that you’ll ever set foot to, you decided to wear that.

it was a simple silver, body hugging asymmetrical dress which shines when the light hits at the right spot. you felt that the body fitting dress was too conspicuous, so you threw a cardigan over it, a huge fashion faux pas.

doyoung offered to pick you up but you didn’t want to get the wrong idea. you would love to spend every living moment with him but if he didn’t think the same you didn’t want to waste time thinking so. you decided to meet him outside the venue instead.

when he saw you approach him, he was appalled by your fashion choice, the cardigan specifically. but as you came closer to him and he had a better view of how you looked, he could only think that you were the most beautiful person he ever laid his eyes on.

doyoung gave you a small smile to greet you and you returned a genuine one back to him. you gestured to make your way into the venue but he stops you. he unbuttons your cardigan and takes it off of you. he throws the cardigan in the backseat of his car and turned to look at you.

“as much as i want to be the only one who is able to admire you, i cannot deprive the world of looking at someone as mesmerizing as you.”

he then took your arm and walked in as you tried to ignore the intense beating of your heart. the both of you took a seat at the designated table and doyoung sat with you for a while. he noticed that you weren't really interested in the event. you even got out a book and were so invested in it that you didn't notice doyoung walking away. when you looked up from your book, you saw doyoung surrounded by a sea of female models, all almost too gorgeous to be human. this was why you couldn't bear having too high of an expectation despite doyoung's little attempts to flirt with you.

to doyoung, it didn't matter that he was around so many beautiful faces because all his attention was on you. even when they tried to subtly flirt with him, he found himself taking quick glances at you every ten seconds to make sure you were comfortable. he was amused that someone could be so focused on a chemistry book when they're surrounded by a plethora of material goods to indulge in. he knew that that's what really interest you, so watching you from afar was enough for him.

but that was until he saw jung jaehyun, another up and coming model, trying to approach you. you were too busy flipping through the book that you never noticed how many people tried to speak to you. when doyoung caught jaehyun's stride towards you from his peripheral view, he cut the conversation he had with a fellow colleague and practically dashed across the event hall, only slowing down 5 steps away from your table.

fortunately, he arrived at the table before jaehyun could and he rested his arm on the backseat of your chair as he took a seat. he turned to look at jaehyun and gestured him to back off.

"oh, hi. do you need me to powder your face? i don't think i brought the brand of your choice though." you spoke when you felt his warm presence beside you.

"you always assume i only ever talk to you when i want my hair or make up done."

"um...because that's what i'm here for. anyway, you should continue talking to them. they seem like they're anticipating for your return." you pouted and pointed towards the direction he was from. true enough they had their gaze on doyoung, the ladies waving when doyoung turned towards them. you swear you saw doyoung cringe at the sight of them.

"why should i talk to a bunch of pretty faces when i can sit here and talk to a pretty face with brains? that's a bonus."

"you're so cheesy, god. but if you want to sit here, i gotta admit i do get boring."

"well, i'll just be bored then."

for the remainder of the night he never left your sight and continued talking to you. not even the chemistry book could garner half the attention you have on doyoung. even when the music was drowning out your conversation, doyoung leaned in closer to listen to everything you wanted to say. he even made the both of you leave the event early just so he could talk to you comfortably at the 24 hr ice cream cafe near the venue.

it wasn't hard to admit that at this moment you've grown so fond of him. you were beginning to think it was a borderline crush. he always made you feel heard despite the minimal reactions. he never fails to ensure that you were the priority through his small gestures, like filling your empty cup first before his. he really made you believe that chivalry isn't dead. it's really all the tiny details you noticed about him that makes you like him, a lot.

"the engineering field takes in only a small percentage of females. it's disappointing to think that i could be working my ass off and i'm discredited because of my gender. i really want to pursue higher education just to brush my success in their faces."

"then why don't you do so? you're insanely hardworking, you're gonna achieve anything you set your mind on."

"i need the funds, doyoung. that's why i really needed this job. you don't know how much it meant to me when you didn't tell on me. just a few more months and i can make my dreams come true." you ended with a reassuring smile.

at that exact moment, doyoung reached an epiphany. he liked you too, a lot. your confidence, determination, kindness and not to mention, killer looks. you've got it all. he'd do anything to have you but he shouldn't. he doesn't want to hinder you from achieving your dreams.

doyoung then told you more about him so that you could know him better but in reality he did so to try and dismiss any form of emotion he felt for you, the attempt was futile.

at about 3am, the two of you decided to call it a day. he drove you home and even in the car he didn't turn on the radio so that he could fully enjoy being in the same space as you. he told you once that the car radio was there to tune out the awkwardness he feels whenever he has to drive people home. so knowing that he's comfortable being present in silence with you, flattered you.

he dropped you off at your door when you reached your apartment. he passed you your purse and wished you a goodnight before turning around to leave.

"y/n!" you turned when he called your name. his back still towards you. " you looked gorgeous tonight by the way. see you tomorrow!"

as weeks went by, you realised that you truly enjoyed going to work more and more because you got to see doyoung. you also felt that being in the fashion field really broadens your perspective, which was another reason to enjoy work. today was a day just like any other, but maybe you’re a tad bit more excited because you’d get to see doyoung.

when you entered the dressing room, doyoung’s manager informed you that Mr Lee wanted to see you. although it seemed odd, you obliged. as you entered Mr Lee’s room, the man himself was already looking back at you, giving you a wide smile. he greets you and asks you if you’re doing fine.

“y/n, to have you in our company is really such a blessing. you’re always so happy coming to work and it bounces off to others. it’s amazing to see-“

“oh no. i’m getting fired,aren’t i? did i do something wrong?”

“no you didn’t, y/n. but i’m going to have to fire you. it’s been so great having you here, truly. you might want to talk to doyoung after this.”

you were slightly pissed at doyoung. you thought that after the two of you had your late night chat he would’ve understood that you needed this job badly. you quickly bowed to Mr Lee and was about to storm out of the room when he stopped you from leaving and passes you an envelope, "as a form of gratitude from us.” you couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. you were sure going to miss working here.

you left the room in search for doyoung and there he was in the dressing room, shining brighter than the stars on a clear, dark night. you stood in front of him and huffed, so ready to question his decisions. just as you were about to open your mouth, he shined you his gummy smile. as if in an instant, all the rage and anger in the world had been lifted momentarily. there was no way you could be mad at him.

“why did you have to tell him? i thought you understood your plight.”

“i do, which was exactly why i did it. by now you know i’m not the type of person who can convey their emotions well. but this is how i prove to you that i care. you have big dreams, y/n. go chase it.”

“but i want to stay here and be with you. i’ve grown so accustomed to seeing you every day. i don’t want to not do that anymore.”

“i want you to stay too but i don’t want to be the reason you’re tied to a job that won’t unleash your true capabilities. you’re way better than this job, y/n, and you know that.”

the faith he had in you was enough to have you melt into his arms. you held him close, never wanting to let him go. if there was a way to have have both him and your dreams at the same time, you’d seize it but that’s impossible and you knew that.

“you’re being dramatic, y/n. we'll see each other when you come back, right?”

you frowned, causing doyoung to laugh. he used his thumb to caress your furrowed brows so that you’d relax. you immediately soften into his touch.

“am i supposed to use this to fund for uni then? this is a huge sum, doyoung.” you referred to the envelope Mr Lee gave you.

“well that’s how much working for me earns you. i mean i was a pain in the ass.” you laughed heartily at him, secretly hoping it wouldn’t be the last time.

"i like you, doyoung. i like you a lot."

"i do too. more than you know." he pulled you closer. "anyways, do you know that you're probably the stylist that lasted the longest?" you could only laugh heartily.

a few weeks later, when doyoung sent you off at the airport, you could see the regret in his eyes, having to send you off. but you knew he did this because he cared for you.

hoping it wouldn’t be the last time you see him he told you, “you got this, my baby engineer. i’ll see you soon.”

he gave you a small kiss on your forehead and watched you turn around to leave. he saw you walking away and disappearing into a tiny speck. but somehow, despite saying goodbye, there was a sense of comfort in this farewell.

that’s why sometimes in life, you meet people and it’s always for a reason. sometimes you meet them at the right place and the right time. and sometimes you meet them at the wrong place and the wrong time. and for you, that’s doyoung, the right guy who you met at the wrong place and the wrong time.

fin.

bonus scene:

in case you cannot handle them not being together at the end haha

approx. 8 months later...

you were clearing up your room that was flooded with research papers. it filled up your study table, your bed, the floor. if it could fill up your ceiling, it would too. you suddenly heard your doorbell ringing.

you rushed to your door and opened it only to see a huge flower hamper. big enough to hide someone in it. and true enough there was someone behind it.

“hello, my baby engineer. i know i’m supposed to wait till after you graduate before i can take you on a date but i can't really help and wonder what it would be like if we do? are you up for it?”

#nct scenarios #nct au #nct imagine #doyoung #doyoung scenarios #doyoung fluff #doyoung angst #nct fluff #nct angst #nct #nct 127 #please give this lots of love and enjoy!!#thank you loves

165 notes · View notes

goldencuffs · 5 years ago

Note

I'M HORRIBLE AT PROMPTS. laurent trying to do something really nice for damen&it kind of goes to hell but damen loves him so much&can't quit loving on him for it all? or laurent goes to some university&everyone thinks he's gorgeous but he's kind of a bitch&when he tells them he has a boyfriend everyone is like yeah right then damen comes to pick him up, looking hotter than anyone has any right to be&laurent melts with him? i'll read literally anything you write, it could be a n y t h i n g

@marrieddorkss im so so so sorry this took so fucking long lmao my god. im a mess. hopefully you still like it?? and it isnt such a fucking disaster lol??

Summary: Laurent decides to do something nice for Damen – and then immediately regrets it.

When Laurent comes back from his last class of the day, it’s to find Damen standing outside his dorm room, wearing a nice, oversized tank top and fraying shorts. The duffle bag by his feet is packed full; Laurent can see the sides of it are lumpy.

“Hey.” Damen’s smile is pleasant. It transforms his face and makes him look younger, despite the stubble growing across his face.

Laurent smiles too. “Hello,” he says, and when he’s close enough, he rests his hands on Damen’s hips and goes on his tiptoes to kiss his nose.

Damen’s smile widens, the creases by his eyes deepening. He scans Laurent’s face intently. “I’m guessing that your presentation went well?”

“It went well,” Laurent says. He pauses. “Actually, it went very well. I managed to answer every single question at the end.”

Damen wraps his arms around Laurent’s shoulders in a tight squeeze. “Fuck yeah!” He cheers. His enthusiasm is genuine, and it makes Laurent’s face heat.

“It’s not that big of a deal – I’m sure there are other people who did way better.”

“Stop that,” says Damen. He kisses Laurent’s forehead. “You killed it; I know you did.”

Laurent doesn’t answer. He just tips his head up in a silent request. Damen’s smile softens around the edges, and then he leans down to kiss Laurent fully on his mouth.

The kiss heats up quickly, as usual. Damen licks inside his mouth with vigour, his hand moving down Laurent’s back to grip his ass. Laurent moans into it, tugging on the front of Damen’s shirt to pull him closer.

Damen’s cock is already hard; it presses up against the inside of Laurent’s thigh in a slow, teasing drag. Laurent shifts his own hips forward, his body tight with anticipation.

A door slams shut at the end of the corridor and Damen detaches himself from Laurent in a measured pace, realising at the same moment Laurent does, that they’re in a very open, public setting.

“Come inside,” Laurent tells him.

Damen squeezes his ass again. “Here?” His smirk is sharp and arrogant.

Laurent hates how much he likes it.

He doesn’t let Damen know that though; instead, he rolls his eyes and drags Damen inside to his dorm room. It’s far from its usual pristine condition; Laurent hasn’t made his bed in a week, his dirty clothes are in a pile by the door and his desk is overflowing with papers, textbooks and plastic wrappers from food he’s bought lately.

Laurent grimaces at the mess. Damen doesn’t seem to mind, or even acknowledge it; he flings himself onto the single bed with as much ease as he can, hauling his duffle bag up with him.

“What’s in there?” Laurent asks.

The duffle bag is an expensive, leather one. For years, it had sat alone and dusty in the Revere’s garage, until Laurent had gifted it to Damen over the summer. Now, it’s used constantly; Damen takes it with him to classes and football practice and is rarely seen without it. He takes good care of it too: he diligently cleans it once a week and keeps it stored in his closet, away from sunlight.

Damen waggles his eyebrows in response to Laurent’s question. He sits up again and opens it with an exaggerated amount of fanfare, slowly inching the zipper in small tugs.

It’s amusing; it shouldn’t be, but almost everything Damen does makes Laurent laugh. He likes that.

Inside the lining of the bag, the tag is visible. It used to simply read ‘Revere’, but someone – probably Nikandros – has added, with marker, an apostrophe and the word ‘bitch’, so the entire thing says: ‘Revere’s bitch’.

Laurent also likes that.

Laurent doesn’t focus too long on the tag. The contents of the bag are much more appealing: there’s an assortment of treats packed haphazardly inside. Laurent can see chip packets, chocolate, tubs of ice cream and a four pack of Krispy Kreme donuts.

Laurent taps the lid of one of the ice cream containers; it’s sea salt, his favourite. “Did you rob a grocery store? Is this your first step into the tantalising world of crime?”

Damen’s shrug is uncharacteristically shy. His fingers are still toying with the zipper, but he still manages to look Laurent in the eye as he says, “They’re for you. I figured – depending on how your presentation goes – they’d either be celebratory snacks or conciliatory ones.”

Laurent smiles. There’s a sudden, pressing warmth in his chest. “Really,” he says, touched.

Damen is still shy; it’s a strange yet endearing look on him.

Laurent’s smile doesn’t waver. He pushes the duffle bag a little, so it ends up against the wall, rather than between them. He crosses the now empty space, shifting closer to Damen until Laurent manages to straddle his lap, knees digging into the hard mattress below.

He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Damen’s mouth. He keeps his mouth there, against the stubble across Damen’s jaw, and says: “Thank you. I love how thoughtful you are.”

Damen swallows, eyes darkening. His hands rest on Laurent’s hips. His touch is deceptively light.

This time, Laurent initiates the kiss. He keeps it slow, the way he favours, and Damen lets him. His hands begin to wander over Laurent’s body; even when they’re not fucking, Laurent has come to learn that Damen likes to touch him constantly.

When Damen’s hands settle on Laurent’s ass once more, Laurent shifts his hips a little. Damen’s other hand drops to cup Laurent’s ass cheek.

Laurent’s gasp is a quiet sound; most of it is swallowed by Damen’s mouth.

They begin a slow, steady rut. It reminds Laurent of the first time they did this, a few months ago in a secluded booth in Route, the small club down the road from their campus.

Laurent didn’t know Damen too well at the time, but he was always petering around the Student Life office, where Laurent had been volunteering on and off throughout the semester. He wasn’t sure what Damen did there: sometimes he volunteered to help with administrative tasks, but mostly, from what Laurent saw, Damen seemed to just want to hang around him.

They formed a tentative, shallow relationship that consisted of very poor flirting on Laurent’s part and a lot of unprecedented confidence on Damen’s.

It was obvious to everyone how much Damen wanted to fuck Laurent; he always looked half crazed every time Laurent so much as looked at him. Laurent found that he didn’t exactly mind it; Damen was attractive, receiving his attention was heady, and it wasn’t as though Laurent was swimming in proposals.

So, when Damen had asked him to hang out at Route with him on a Saturday night, Laurent had said yes, fully expecting the outcome of the evening.

Still, Damen had seemed surprised when, after two drinks, Laurent climbed into his lap. Their first kiss had been relatively innocent: just a short, chaste peck. Then Laurent, spurred on by the alcohol, deepened it. Damen responded eagerly, pulling closer Laurent and licking into his mouth with a shocking amount of indecency.

After a while, he’d pulled back. His eyes had been so dark, and he’d gazed at Laurent with awe.

Laurent had said: “If you’re going to keep looking at me like that, you might as well just fuck me here.”

Damen had inhaled sharply; even with all the noise around them, Laurent still managed to hear it.

Twenty minutes later, Laurent had been pressed down into his mattress as Damen licked him open for his cock.

As he’d pushed into him for the first time, Damen panted into his ear, “Fuck, I don’t usually do this on a first date.”

Laurent had laughed.

Afterwards, Laurent had thought he wouldn’t see much of Damen anymore. He knew how one night stands worked. He suspected that now that Damen had been inside him – more than once, actually – he would stop loitering around the Student Life office.

That didn’t happen. Instead, Damen seemed more persistent to hang around Laurent. Laurent let it happen. By this point, he’d grown fond of Damen, the way someone might feel fond over a stray puppy that constantly showed up at their door.

Besides, as the weeks wore on, Laurent discovered that as well as being extremely sexually compatible, Damen and he were also compatible outside of bed; they became fast friends, much to the bemusement of everyone else.

It’s amazing how far they’ve come, Laurent thinks. He doesn’t think he’s been so comfortable with anyone in his entire life.

Now, in the silence of his bedroom, Damen’s lips drag across Laurent’s neck. Laurent shivers, fingers running over Damen’s shoulders. He’s careful as he tugs off Damen’s shirt. Damen’s chest is marvellous – it’s all sculpted pecs and hard planes. There’s a tattoo of a lion roaring on his right pec. It’s the most obnoxious thing Laurent has ever seen, and the first time Laurent had seen it, he’d licked it. He might’ve felt stupid about it at the time, but that feeling quickly evaporated when Damen’s hips stuttered, and he’d spilled his release inside Laurent.

Once Damen’s shirt comes off, the need to get naked becomes a priority for both of them. Damen rolls Laurent onto his back after Laurent takes off his own shirt, mouthing over his collarbone, his nipples, his bellybutton, and then his hipbone.

Laurent is quick to unbuckle his belt when Damen kisses the waistband of his jeans.

Damen is always meticulous in preparing him. It doesn’t matter if it’s been five minutes or five days since they last fucked, Damen never rushes. Laurent’s given up on trying to coax him to be faster.

Laurent’s knee jerks a little when Damen’s fingers, covered in cold lube, circle around his rim in sure strokes. Damen kisses the inside of his thigh, then the crease of his groin as Laurent pants. When his finger breaches Laurent, Laurent turns his head into the pillow, moaning against the silk fabric.

“Please,” he says quietly, and Damen groans, long and loud. He likes it when Laurent begs, a fact that makes Laurent flush.

Damen continues fingering him. The sounds are disgusting, wet and sloppy. Laurent doesn’t understand why he likes it so much.

Finally, finally, Damen pulls away. Laurent’s fingers twist the bedsheets in anticipation. He knows he’s flushed all over; he can feel the colour vining across the bridge of his nose and down his chest.

Damen’s cockhead drags down his crease. It makes Laurent delirious.

“Yeah?” says Damen. His hand grips the base of his cock and his eyes are fixed on Laurent, like he can’t bear to look away. Laurent knows the feeling; Damen looks so good like this.

“Yes,” says Laurent, in Veretian.

That makes Damen groan again. He only gets louder as he pushes into Laurent. Laurent’s eyes go cross eyed at the initial stretch. He loves this: the initial pain of Damen’s cock entering him.

“God, Laurent.” Damen grunts as he starts thrusting, biting down on the column of Laurent’s neck.

“Yeah, fuck me,” Laurent says. His hands slide down Damen’s sweaty back. “Harder – please, I need it.”

“Fuck,” Damen gasps as he complies. He lifts his head from the crook of Laurent’s shoulder and kisses him.

Laurent keens into it. He wraps his legs around Damen’s waist, murmuring encouragements in Veretian against Damen’s mouth.

Damen’s thrusts start to get shallow; his rhythm isn’t synced, but it still makes Laurent’s toes curl.

“Good?” Damen says. His biceps are straining with effort.

“You know it is,” Laurent says.

“I like the confirmation,” Damen says with that terrible smirk, and Laurent closes his eyes and lets himself take it.

Damen comes first. He’s loud when it happens; Laurent is sure his neighbours hate him.

His cock is straining against his stomach when Damen pulls out. Laurent flushes when he feels the wetness inside him, and he darkens further when Damen pulls his ass cheeks apart, watching in awe as his come dribbles out of Laurent’s hole.

“Don’t touch your cock,” says Damen.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Laurent arches his back when Damen’s mouth seals over his hole.

Damen slips his tongue in easily, licking into Laurent with enthusiasm. Laurent shakes under his grip. Damen’s stubble rubs against his skin, and Laurent knows it’s steadily pinkening.

He feels on edge. His cock is so hard it hurts. He pulls on Damen’s curls desperately, and Damen buries into him deeper.

Laurent’s mouth falls open. His quiet panting fills the room, joining the cacophony of sounds Damen’s mouth produces as he eats him out.

Laurent feels like crying. He almost asks Damen to stop because it’s too much, too much, too much.

Then Damen slows down to short, tiny licks. When he resurfaces, he gives Laurent a filthy wink. His chin is wet.

Laurent comes.

Every Thursday, Laurent and Damen have lunch at a small brunch place just outside campus. It’s usually packed, but Damen always manages to secure them a table. Laurent suspects this is because Damen has slept with one of the baristas. Damen has never explicitly denied this detail.

Today, their table is outside, along the gravel path leading to the campus gardens. The weather is nice; a rarity in Marlas, and Laurent enjoys the sunshine on his face.

Initially their weekly lunch meetings had been a habit borne out of practicality: last semester, one of the only days they could meet up was on Thursday mornings. After a good, thorough fuck, Damen always needed a cigarette, and Laurent always got hungry, so their solution was to head out to this particular brunch place.

Now, though, it’s become a fixed tradition between them. Damen also refers to it as their place – which Laurent still doesn’t quite understand.

Damen orders his usual – the everything breakfast – and Laurent, pleasantly reminded of this morning’s activities when he moves in his seat, decides to order the same thing.

Halfway through their meal, they’re interrupted by Nikandros, one of Damen’s teammates. Nikandros is wearing his letterman jacket, but he shrugs it off as he pulls up a seat at their table. He steals a chorizo sausage off of Laurent’s plate, despite Laurent’s protests.

Nikandros starts talking to Damen about the statistics of their latest game while Laurent finishes up his food. Once he’s done, he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. He manages to finish half of it; he offers Nikandros the rest. Nikandros eyes fall on the cigarette, then Laurent’s mouth, before he forcibly tears his eyes away and shakes his head.

He addresses Damen again, his voice slightly hoarse, “Hey! I just remembered – guess who I saw coming out the law library today?”

“Who?” Damen takes Laurent’s cigarette.

Nikandros pauses for dramatic effect. His smirk is not as attractive as Damen’s. “Lykaios.”

Damen drops his cigarette. He doesn’t pay it much mind; instead, he leans forward in his seat, eyes alight. “Wait – seriously? You’re not messing with me?”

“Nah,” Nikandros shakes his head, looking pleased. “Asked her what she’s doing here, apparently she’s starting postgrad law this semester.” Nikandros pauses again. “Like you.”

“Wow.” Damen’s expression is brittle with disbelief. “What are the chances?”

“Seems like fate.”

“Who’s Lykaios?” Laurent asks.

“Oh,” says Damen. “She’s an old friend from when I still lived in Ios.”

“A friend,” says Nikandros. His expression is amused. “Oh, come on, you two were practically together.”

“That’s not true,” Damen says quickly. He casts Laurent a reassuring look. “It honestly isn’t.”

Laurent doesn’t understand why Damen is being so defensive; it’s not news to him that Damen has been with other people.

“You were pretty much in love with her, dude.” Nikandros picks a sausage off Damen’s plate this time.

“Oh,” Laurent says before he can help it. The statement takes him by surprise. One of the first things Damen had told him when they’d first started hooking up was: I don’t know what it’s like to be in love. In the stillness of the night, Damen had been vulnerable and open; it was the first time Laurent realised the person in his bed might be more multifaceted than he let on.

“No,” Damen gives Laurent another reassuring look. His foot presses against Laurent’s underneath the table. “I wasn’t.” His voice is firm. “There was a time I thought I was, but I was wrong.”

Nikandros clearly doesn’t believe him. He rolls his eyes and utters a small, “Whatever.”

Laurent pulls out another cigarette, thinking.

Later that night, Laurent is contemplative. It’s late: almost two in the morning and the rain outside is a welcome, soothing noise.

Laurent is so sore, he almost regrets the last round, as short as it was. It doesn’t keep him from draping himself over Damen’s chest, fingers lazily tracing over the tattoo on his pec.

Damen keeps running his fingers through Laurent’s sweat soaked hair, his fingernails gently scratching against his scalp. It’s so relaxing, Laurent feels like he could fall asleep like this. Practically, he knows he shouldn’t: there’s dry come on his stomach and between his thighs. He’s also sweaty, and Damen is too.

But instead of getting up, Laurent asks into the stillness of the night: “What is she like?”

Damen jerks a little; his eyes have been closed for a while now.

“Hm?”

“Lykaios,” Laurent says. “I want to know what she’s like.”

There’s a small pause. Damen shifts again. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It seemed like she means a lot to you – and I’m interested.”

“She meant a lot to me. As in, past tense.”

“It didn’t seem that way during lunch,” Laurent points out. He doesn’t know why Damen is being so evasive and why it’s bothering him so much. “You seemed excited to hear about her.”

“Well yeah,” Damen says. In the darkness, it’s hard to read his usually expressive face, but Laurent can still sense a growing tightness in Damen’s body. “But that’s only because it’s been a while since any of us have heard from her. She sort of disappeared after first year.”

Laurent pinches Damen’s bicep. “Tell me.”

Damen sighs. He rolls over, so Laurent is unfairly jostled aside. He turns on the lamp on the bedside table. As the room is washed in a dull yellow light, Laurent can see how matted Damen’s hair has become, as well as the fingernail indentations along his shoulders.

“There’s honestly not much to say,” Damen says. His voice is very quiet, mindful of the neighbouring dorm rooms. “We were family friends for years, and in my senior year I realised I liked her a lot – more than I thought I did. But she had a boyfriend, so I never did anything about it. And then she dumped him because she liked me, but this time I was seeing someone. So, in the end, nothing happened.”

“That’s it?” Laurent frowns. In his mind, he keeps replaying Damen’s reaction at lunch; surely, there must be more to the story. Damen huffs. It almost seems like he’s pouting. He pokes Laurent’s stomach, hard. “You’re being very annoying.”

Laurent swats his hand away. “Are you still in love with her?”

“I already told you I never was. I just thought I could be because I was a horny eighteen year old.”

That makes Laurent laugh. It’s an unintentional sound, but it makes Damen smile.

“I’m not interested in anyone but you,” Damen says, too sincerely. The words hang heavy in the air.

Laurent doesn’t know what to make of it – not just the words, but Damen’s tone as well. It makes his stomach clamp up. He thinks Damen is making a point about how attractive he finds Laurent; in bed, the subject of Laurent’s body is always a welcoming topic.

So, Laurent says, a little awkwardly, “Thank you.”

Damen snorts. He looks fond. He kisses Laurent, and Laurent gladly welcomes it.

It’s a slow, sensual kiss. Damen keeps mapping out Laurent’s body with his hands, fingertips tracing over the veins across Laurent’s wrist, his chest.

“Think you can go again?” Damen says against his mouth. Pressed to each other like this, Laurent can feel Damen’s erection. It’s hot, he thinks to himself, how Damen physically reacts to him, even when Laurent hasn’t done anything to particularly excite him.

He’s still sore, sweaty and gross, but Laurent says: “Yes.”

Laurent is late to his study session with Damen on Wednesday. They normally don’t study together; tonight is an exception. Damen is apparently tired of being cooped in his room alone as he pours over his essays.

Outside the study room, Laurent pauses. Through the clear glass, he can see Damen is already seated, textbooks placed carelessly over the wooden tabletop. But he’s not alone. There’s someone seated on the edge of the table, in the one corner free of Damen’s things.

It’s Lykaios. Laurent knows it must be; Damen’s face is exuberant, creased with warmth. His smile is filled with teeth, white and straight, and there’s a lingering softness there. Laurent’s chest clenches with a foreign feeling. He’s unsure what it is, but then deduces it must be relief at seeing Damen so happy.

Laurent almost turns back. He wants to give Damen and his not-quite ex-girlfriend time to catch up. The thought of intruding on them with his presence fills him with anxiety. But he remains rooted on the spot because, for some strange reason, the thought of leaving them alone also fills him with anxiety.

Luckily – or perhaps, unluckily; Laurent still hasn’t made up his mind – Damen spots him through the glass. His smile, now directed at Laurent, changes instantly; it dissolves into a steady kind of fondness. His eyes seem to shine brighter.

It completely baffles Laurent.

His chest tightens again; this time, it’s much more pleasant.

Laurent supposes he should enter now. Damen seems to have forgotten about Lykaios; his eyes remain on Laurent as Laurent fumbles with the doorknob and steps into the room.

“Hey,” he says. His smile – and voice – wobble. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Damen’s smile, impossibly, widens even more. Laurent’s gaze is helplessly drawn to it.

They stare at each other for a few moments longer than necessary until Damen seems to remember they’re not alone. He fumbles over the introductions, face flushed.

Lykaios is unbelievably gorgeous. Like most Akielons, she’s very tall; even wearing flats she’s a few inches taller than Laurent. Laurent tries not to be bitter about it. Her hair isn’t as blonde as Laurent’s, but it’s long and shiny. Her eyes are amazing; long lashed and an intriguing colour, somewhere between green and blue.

Standing next to Damen, the two of them look like a regal painting. They look good together. They complement each other.

Laurent – unexpectedly, painfully – feels inadequate.

Lykaios rounds the table and shakes Laurent’s hand with vigour. Her smile is kind and open; her enthusiasm is genuine. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Damen has managed to mention your name about a hundred times in the last half an hour.”

Damen flushes at that, suddenly busying himself with rearranging his textbooks.

Laurent smiles. He can feel the heat travel across his face. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting your study session.” Her voice is so sweet, Laurent thinks he could listen to her talk all day. “I was literally just walking past and saw Damen in here. I almost couldn’t believe it.” She turns to Damen and gives him in an assessing look. “It’s been what – six years?”

“Fuck off,” Damen says, with little heat. “I don’t want to be reminded of how old I am.”

Lykaios laughs at that. Her laugh is sweet too.

Laurent says, “You guys will probably see more of each other now. You’re in the same course, right?”

Lykaios beams. “Yep! Another weird coincidence.”

“Or fate,” Laurent points out.

Damen gives him a strange look. “Definitely just a coincidence.”

“Ah, who knows the mysterious ways of the universe,” says Lykaios. She gives Laurent a wink.

Laurent decides he likes her, despite the twisting in his gut.

It’s why he says: “Did you want to stay and study with us? We were also going to grab some dinner afterwards. You could join us for that too.”

Damen gives him another strange look; this one is brittle with disbelief.

Laurent ignores it. He keeps his eyes on Lykaios, who smiles at him.

“Thank you for the very kind offer, but I’ve already got plans tonight, I’m afraid.” She seems genuinely sorry, and it makes Laurent like her even more.

“Maybe next time,” Laurent says.

Damen frowns.

Lykaios doesn’t stay too long after that; she claims she needs to start getting ready for her night out. When she leaves, she kisses Damen’s cheek. Laurent bristles a little at that.

But his annoyance morphs into pleasantness when she hugs him goodbye – like Damen, she is very touchy, Laurent notices.

As soon as the door closes behind her, Damen kisses Laurent, hard and open mouthed. It’s a terrible kiss; Laurent isn’t expecting it, and he almost topples backwards with the force of it. Then he starts laughing, so Damen’s mouth mostly meets his teeth.

The second one is much, much better.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for the past ten minutes,” says Damen. “Next time, kissing first, and then we move on to having a conversation.”

“Shut up,” says Laurent. He pulls out his textbooks, trying not to laugh. After a few moments, he says, “She seems really nice. I can see why you liked her so much.”

He imagines Damen at eighteen, maybe a little naïve and cocky, completely enamoured by Lykaios’ sweetness.

Damen rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He squints at Laurent. “You’re not still hung up on that are you?” His mouth deepens into a smirk. He waggles his eyebrows. “Need me to prove my loyalty, baby?”

Laurent flushes. It’s not the first time Damen has used that endearment – he mostly says it in bed – but it still catches Laurent off guard every time.

His mouth is suddenly very dry. The only thing he can manage to say is: “Shut up.” And then he gets to work, smiling into his shoulder when Damen’s foot wraps around his underneath the table.

Lykaios’ Instagram is an explosion of colour: she likes wearing a lot of red and green and purple. Her entire profile is filled with her travels, charity work, her friends, and some shots of her eyelids coated in glitter. The more Laurent scrolls, the more careful he is not to like anything.

There are plenty of pictures of her from high school; Damen is in most of them, fresh faced and youthful. It’s strange to look at: nothing about Damen is boyish, but these pictures prove otherwise.

Laurent comes across a photo of Lykaios and Damen from six years ago. In it, Damen has his arm around her waist while Lykaios rests her head on his shoulder.

The caption is: hbd to this guy aka my soulmate #finally18

Soulmate, Laurent thinks. His mouth purses.

Damen’s comment is the first comment. It reads: love u ly!

Laurent puts his phone down.

His thoughts come too fast: he starts to think of all the ways Damen and Lykaios fit together, how connected they seemed even after so much time apart. He thinks of how nice they looked together.

Then, Laurent starts thinking of all the nice things Damen has done for him over the last few months. The duffel bag full of his favourite snacks comes to mind, as does the time Damen took him to a fancy restaurant when Laurent had averaged a high distinction last semester. Damen had even driven him almost forty minutes to the dentist once, even though he had an assessment due in the afternoon.

Damen is always doing nice things for him, and Laurent realises, guiltily, that he’s never quite returned the favour. His own gestures have often been small and unnoteworthy; they’ve never possessed the grandeur of Damen’s actions.

Laurent knows exactly how to change that.

Laurent isn’t the most forthcoming person. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to gather enough courage to message Lykaios on Instagram. But once he makes it past his awkward introduction – hey this is laurent in case you don’t remember me – to which Lykaios had responded ofc i do silly!, their conversations are light and easy.

The more Laurent talks to her over the week, the more he’s convinced of his plan. Lykaios is everything Damen needs and vice versa. It’s crazy how similar their personalities are: they’re both incredibly sweet, intelligent and interested in almost all the same things, from okton to hiking.

The next week, Laurent invites Lykaios to his and Damen’s weekly lunch outing.

Damen smiles when he sees him. He doesn’t lose the smile on his face when he sees Lykaios, but his eyes snap to Laurent’s in confusion.

“This is a nice surprise,” he says, although his tone is dry.

Laurent pretends not to notice it. Lykaios kisses Damen’s cheek in greeting and Laurent scratches at his chest as he sits down.

Damen leans over the table to kiss him, but Laurent quickly picks out the menu and starts to read it, even though he’s practically memorised it by now. He doesn’t want Damen to kiss him now – especially in front of Lykaios – and ruin his plan before it’s had the chance to even formulate.

When he puts the menu back, Damen is openly frowning.

It disappears as Lykaios begins talking. The transformation is amazing; Damen is instantly captivated by her. Laurent swallows. This is good, he reminds himself.

Laurent waits about ten minutes. He’s started to notice that even though Damen is laughing along to all of Lykaios’ jokes, he’s still shooting Laurent glances every few seconds.

The question on his face is clear: why is she here?

Laurent plays with his phone for a while. He tries to make it look like he’s texting something important; he keeps his brows furrowed in concentration.

Laurent isn’t the best actor, but even he’s proud of himself as he lets out a small gasp.

“What is it?” says Damen, instantly alert.

“Nothing,” Laurent waves him off. “It’s just that I completely forgot I had a study session right now.” He stands up, grabs his bag. “I should go.”

“Wait –” Damen’s face pinches. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m sorry, but this is really important.” Laurent turns to Lykaios and smiles. “You two stay and have fun.”

“But –”

“Bye!” Laurent says it too enthusiastically, cutting Damen off. He walks out of the brunch place with hurried steps. He turns back at the end of the gravel path just to check if –

His chest tightens with pleasure – yes, pleasure, although he’s not sure why it doesn’t feel like it – when he sees his absence has made little disturbance. Damen and Lykaios are laughing together, mouths open in delight.

Over the next few days, Laurent organises more and more outings with Damen and Lykaios. Damen never seems to stop looking confused whenever Laurent invites Lykaios, but he also seems happy to see her, so Laurent counts it as a win. During each outing, Laurent manages to come up with a different excuse each time as to why he needed to leave early. Damen always looks disappointed. Laurent is weak for it; he can’t count how many times that look has almost made him stay, but he doesn’t, because it would be detrimental to his plan.

Laurent makes sure to text Damen whether or not he enjoyed his time with Lykaios. Damen’s responses are pretty much the same every time: Yes, but it would’ve been better if you were there too.

It frustrates Laurent. Damen isn’t supposed to still be thinking of him while he’s hanging out with his potential soulmate.

Lykaios is the first to grow suspicious. She confronts him at the next outing. They’re in an idyllic little bar in the city, with a cosy atmosphere. It’s a perfect date venue.

Damen heads to the bathroom, and Laurent stands up, ready to leave, when Lykaios stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Laurent,” she says. “Is there a reason you keep depriving us of your company?”

Laurent manages a sheepish smile. He wonders if he should say anything at all. Then, he decides he should: he feels like Lykaios would appreciate his directive.

Laurent plays with the little sugar packets on the table. “I’ve been trying to get you and Damen to spend more time together. Alone,” he adds, when he sees her confusion.

“Why?”

“Well…” Laurent hesitates; he’s just now beginning to realise how awkward this is. “I think you two would be good together…romantically.”

Lykaios raises her eyebrows.

Laurent continues, fingers still fidgeting. “It’s just…Damen mentioned how much you two liked each other a few years ago. And I think Damen still regards you very highly. Plus, you two are so alike – I just think it makes sense.”

Lykaios’ eyebrows don’t lower, but she casts a backward glance towards where Damen has disappeared to.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about Damen and I…” she begins, and Laurent’s gut twists with…relief? Yes, he’s sure it’s relief. It’s a good – great – thing that Lykaios is interested in Damen. “But I thought –” Lykaios pauses for a few seconds. “I mean, I was under the impression that you and Damen were together.”

Laurent laughs, and then he realises she’s being serious. “You – no. We’re not. We’re friends.” Friends who spent a lot of time sleeping together, sure, but Laurent doesn’t think mentioning that now will do him any favours.

Lykaios’ face instantly changes. Her smile takes up her entire face; it’s stunning. She’s stunning.

Laurent shifts in his seat. He clears his throat. “So – you…you want to date him?”

She flushes, and it only makes her look more beautiful. “Like I said…I’ve definitely thought about it.”

“Oh – good. That’s awesome. Damen will be so happy.” He stands up. “So, I’ll leave you two alone?”

Lykaios nods. “Thank you, Laurent.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He turns around to leave. Everything in his body is screaming not to.

He keeps reminding himself that he’s doing something nice for Damen: that Damen will appreciate the fact that Laurent set him up with someone like Lykaios, a brilliant woman he has a past with. His mouth is dry, and Laurent’s palms are suddenly sweaty. Briefly, he wonders if this is always what happens when people do nice things for another. If it is…he might have to limit his niceness.

Laurent doesn’t mean to start ignoring Damen’s calls or texts. It just happens. He isn’t in the mood to listen to Damen go on about Lykaios; Laurent already knows she’s amazing.

He’s also confident that they’re dating now – or at least getting there. Lykaios posted a lot of snaps from the last night Laurent left them alone, and all of them had been of Damen smiling, drinking, smirking at the camera. They’d been there until three in the morning; Laurent knows because he’d stayed up until then, refreshing his Instagram feed to see any updates on Lykaios’ story.

What had they even been doing for so long anyway? Damen had called him until eleven, before he presumably gave up. Had Lykaios pulled a move on him? Had they gone back to Damen’s room, fucked on his bed? Had Damen thought of how he’d fucked Laurent on that same bed just last week? Or had he been so consumed by Lykaios and her pleasantness that Damen hadn’t even thought of Laurent?

Laurent had had the worst night of sleep.

And then a few nights ago, Nikandros had posted an image of the football team hanging around at his dorm room. (Laurent vaguely remembers being invited to that). In the photo, Laurent’s eyes had immediately been drawn to Damen in the corner, his head bent down as he said something to Lykaios, who had been smiling widely. It had looked very intimate. Laurent had turned his phone off when he saw it.

Alone in his room, Laurent lies on his bed, heart constricting. He should be happy for Damen. It’s frustrating him that he isn’t. And worst of all, he doesn’t know why.

He thinks it might be because he’s gotten so used to having Damen around all the time. If Damen starts seeing someone, then he’d obviously start spending less time with Laurent.

Laurent doesn’t want Damen to spend less time with him. If anything, they should be spending more time together. He only sees Damen about four times a week! That’s too little. Laurent should talk to Damen about that. He should tell him, Damen, even though you have a girlfriend now, I still want you to spend all your time with me, and I still want you to take me to fancy restaurants and then fuck me hard when we get home.

Horrified, Laurent rolls over and screams into his pillow.

A few hours later, while Laurent is trying to clean out his desk drawers, there’s a knock on the door. It’s a rapid set of knocks, loud and urgent.

Laurent frowns. He opens the door and his heart jumps when he sees Damen there, wearing a shirt Laurent had gifted him in the summer. Damen’s face is annoyed; it’s not an expression Laurent has seen often on Damen - and even rarely directed towards him.

Damen pushes past Laurent into the room. He takes up most of the space in it. Laurent’s heart still hasn’t calmed down.

“Tell me,” says Damen.

“What?”

“Tell me what I did wrong. I don’t like this passive aggressive bullshit.”

“What?” Laurent says again.

Damen crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You haven’t returned a single one of my calls or texts. You don’t want to hang out with me anymore. And I waited all night for you to show up to Nikandros’ and you didn’t.” When Laurent doesn’t say anything, he presses on. “Well? What did I do to piss you off?”

“I – nothing,” Laurent shakes his head, shocked. “I’m not mad at you.“

"Please,” Damen scoffs. “You -”

"I’m not,“ Laurent says. “I was just giving you some space.”

”Space. Why?“

"Well…” Laurent finds himself hesitating. “So you and Lykaios can spend more time together.”

“Why the fuck would I want to do that?”

“Um. She didn’t tell you?”

Damen’s eyes harden. His mouth presses into a tight line. “Can you please just give me a straight answer?”

“I’m – I’ve been trying to set you and Lykaios up.” Damen’s mouth drops open. Laurent quickly adds, “I talked to her about it and she said she’s been thinking of dating you too! So you know…” He trails off weakly.

There’s a sudden, pressing silence. It engulfs the small space of Laurent’s room.

In a very quiet, measured voice, Damen says, “What makes you think I would want to date Lykaios?”

“She really likes you Damen. And I think you two would be a good match. I mean – you’re so compatible.”

“No.” Damen’s voice is hard. “I meant: why the fuck do you think I would want to date Lykaios when I’m already dating you?”

Laurent’s eyes widen. His breath stutters in his chest. There’s a strange ringing in his ears. “We’re not dating.” His voice is too quiet; he can’t bring himself to repeat himself any louder.

Damen’s eyes bulge. It would be a comical expression if the atmosphere in the room wasn’t so deadly.

“Not. Dating.” Damen repeats between his teeth. “You – You really believe that?”

Damen’s mouth loosens around the edges. He looks like he’s received the worst news of his life.

“I –” Laurent fumbles with his words. The back of his neck prickles with discomfort. “We’re friends.”

“Is that what we are?” Damen scoffs. “My mistake, then.”

Laurent still feels wrongfooted. It’s almost like he’s not even experiencing this conversation, just watching himself have it.

“I don’t understand,” says Laurent. “I was just trying to do something nice for you. I thought it’d be good for you if you had a girlfriend like Lykaios.”

“For fuck’s sake, Laurent.” All of Damen’s anger melts away. His tone now is sullen. “I’ve literally been obsessed with you for the last six months – are you seriously just realising this now?”

“I’m –” Laurent swallows. “But you’ve never asked me out or called me your…boyfriend.” His tongue dries up around the world.

“I asked you out to Route all those months ago!” Damen says.

“No. You said: ‘do you want to go out with me to –’” Laurent cuts himself off. Now that he thinks about it, he’s sure that Damen did ask him out on a date. He’d also said, I don’t usually do this on a first date while they’d been in bed together, hadn’t he?

The realisation stumps Laurent.

“Oh,” he says.

Damen sits down on the edge of the bed, groaning. He buries his head in his hands. “Oh my god, Laurent. How can someone so smart be so stupid?”

Laurent supposes he should feel offended by that. He isn’t, though, because he genuinely feels stupid.

“You still didn’t make anything official.” Laurent says after a while.

Damen looks up. “Fuck you.” His eyebrows furrow. “What was stopping you from asking me?”

“Why would I say anything?! I thought you were only interested in fucking me!”

Damen groans again. He sounds like he’s dying. “If that were true, then why would I –” He gestures around the room. Laurent knows what he means. He thinks of all the…dates Damen has taken him on, all the gifts he’s been given, the fact that Damen doesn’t leave his side when they go to parties together.

Laurent closes his eyes. This is too much. He’s shocked by the anger that overtakes him – anger at himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been.”

Damen looks at him steadily. He gathers his thoughts. “Do you still think I should date Lykaios? Because you seem pretty invested in the idea and I –” Damen sighs. “I don’t want to – I don’t think I can be with you if you don’t feel the same as I do.”

“How do you feel about me?” Laurent asks softly.

Damen’s gaze is burning. Laurent is pinned beneath it. “Laurent, I love you.”

Laurent gasps. It’s a soft sound, but in the stillness of the room it rattles against the walls. His throat closes.

When a few silent moments pass, Damen sighs. He stands up, mouth drooping and fingers tense by his thighs. “Alright…That’s.” He stops. He gives Laurent a small nod. “I’ll just go then.”

Laurent blocks his path with a shrill, “Wait!”

Damen stops.

Laurent’s fingers twitch. He wants to touch Damen. But he knows he should – “I don’t want you to date Lykaios. I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking, alright? You just – you seemed so into her Damen, and I thought it would be nice if I did you a favour and set you up with her because you’re always doing nice things for me but then I got so sad and angry and confused every time you were together and then I felt guilty for feeling those things and I just –”

“Okay, slow down,” Damen’s hands grip his shoulders.

Laurent shakes his head. His chest is bubbling with all these emotions he’s refused to acknowledge. “I don’t want you to date Lykaios,” he repeats. “I want you to date me.” He pauses. “Only me.”

Damen snorts. “Easy. I’ve already been doing that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” Laurent says. His throat is still tight with emotion.

“We’ll work on communicating better,” Damen says. He peers down at Laurent until their eyes meet. “I only want you, Laurent.”

Laurent collapses into Damen. He buries his head against Damen’s chest, weak in his relief. He even sniffles a little, something Damen thankfully ignores. “I only want you, too.”

Damen’s body loosens; he exhales and squeezes Laurent in his embrace. He kisses Laurent’s temple. “That makes me so happy.”

“Me too,” Laurent says.

Guiltily, he thinks of Lykaios. He remembers her excitement at the thought of being with Damen. Laurent needs to make it up to her, somehow, if she’ll let him. Maybe he could buy her flowers? Laurent has never bought flowers for anyone in his life, but he thinks Lykaios might like roses – unless that’s too romantic? Or maybe he could –

“Hey,” Damen says, interrupting his thought process.

Laurent looks up at him. Damen’s smile is radiant; it’s all white teeth and creased eyes. “Yeah?”

“Do me a favour.”

“Anything.”

Damen kisses him. Laurent smiles into it as his entire body fills with an unparalleled warmth. He’s not sure if he loves Damen back…but he’s confident he’s getting there.

Damen pulls back. He assesses Laurent with a stern frown. “Don’t ever do anything nice for me.”

Laurent huffs. He hides his face in Damen’s chest again. “Shut up.”

#captive prince #this is 7.5k lol i dont understand the concept of a drabble clearly #please lmk if read more doesnt work i dont want ppl to scroll through such a long post #@marrieddorks im very sorry for this lol #my fic #my writing

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