#it’s draining and I don’t have the courage to draw or do anything else the evening after drawing all day for 9 hours long | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keefwho · 1 year ago

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July 02 - 2023 Sunday

8:34 AM

Another shit Sunday spent alone wondering how I went so wrong and ended up all by myself. Please kill me.

Im just digging myself deeper and deeper into the belief that no one cares about me as much as I care about them. I see so much evidence. I’m tired of having to gaslight myself into believing otherwise. I don’t blame anyone though, look at me. Who would want anything to do with a loser like me? I haven’t changed since high school. Still just the same bozo ruining everything around me.

Can’t wait until tomorrow when I get to remind myself how shit I am at drawing and how hard I’ve failed at improving. And it’s at the expense of someone else’s wallet. How fucking shitty am I

Maybe I also have a habit of wanting attention from people who don’t give a shit about me.

9:29 AM

Maybe tomorrow I’ll pick myself back up and try to gaslight myself into thinking I’m okay.

I don’t know why I do this to myself. I’m trying to ignore all my socials because it hurts seeing them empty. But I know when I turn them back on later and I still have no messages, it’ll hurt even more. I always do this. It’s a way to convince myself that people don’t care.

9:59 AM

I’m always the one that fucks relationships up, friend or otherwise. I’m the one that makes things weird. I’m not fit to be with anyone, even just a friend.

It breaks my heart to know I will always be moved on from. People will always find someone better. I don’t want to live in a world like this. I just wish I could be worthy of anything.

10:20 AM

I refuse to un-isolate myself until I can behave fairly. I’m tired of sabotaging everything. I can’t do that if I keep my destructive self away from everything. Personal problems HAVE to be handled alone. It’s no one else’s business.

I crave attention. I crave the feeling that I’m not alone. But I don’t want to give into it, because I am alone. It’s not healthy trying to convince myself otherwise.

11:04 AM

How do I know if I’m being unfair to myself? Isn’t it right for me to accept people’s help and compassion? But what if I’m misusing it?

Am I supposed to be doing something right now to help myself or can I just give up for now

11:59 AM

I barely have the will to hold myself up. I want to lay down and never move again.

12:32 PM

I am in so much pain. I can’t imagine belonging anywhere. I’m so detached from everything. I hope I feel good enough soon to come out of my isolation and reach out. But I have to make sure I’m not using anyone to keep me afloat.

I’ve had such bad form this weekend and been so very selfish. I shouldn’t expect anything from anyone, not how I am right now. It is not deserved.

1:19 PM

In the effort of not giving up I’m just letting myself feel everything right now. And I rant about it here. If I get stronger then tomorrow I will try to re-read and dissect everything. I know there are ways for me to overcome these problems if only I have the courage to try. But right now I’m all out of everything.

Its all about how I want to be. There isn’t a “right” way to carry myself, only the way I choose. When I think about people’s dynamics and what is “unhealthy”, it really is case by case. 2 people could be completely dependent on each other which I think objectively is a fragile system but if it happens to work out their whole lives then it was a good thing. Relying on other people to pick me up could work out if they are always there to do it and it isn’t a drain on them. That would be a stable system. Or I could be completely independent, a loner who partakes in the company of others. Honestly I don’t think I want to be that, I want to depend and be depended on. I don’t want me or my friends to easily abandon each other just because we don’t need each other. I want to be needed and I want to need. There is a healthy way to do that.

2:12 PM

If I’m still not ready by tomorrow, I will at least have to open Discord for commissions. I’m trying very hard not to make an excuse to get that attention that will only be used to bandaid my problems. If anyone even messaged, it would be hard not to check it but I’ll see when I get there.

I have a lot of good things in my life I want to fight for. Feeling how I do right now is something I have to carry with me and make known. Things will only slip away from me if I let them. I know what my true desires are. I want to hold onto everything. I can earn my place. I can fight for what I want even if I fall like I did this weekend. Whether I like it or not, everything I’ve felt the past couple days is a part of me. I was there for it and it was me. The best thing I can do is acknowledge it and roll with it’s punches instead of ignoring it and suddenly taking it all head on.

I always worry people will not understand this about me. That they won’t understand I come with baggage but it’s baggage I intend to do something about. I would take anyone that does the same, as long as they are fighting it. I know I am fighting it and it’s up to others to understand that.

3:33 PM

As much as I need a chat, I want to make sure I am in the right headspace for one. I also refuse to burden certain individuals during such an important event, that is honestly selfish of me. I can wait.

Im still avoiding myself. But maybe I’m almost ready to pick myself back up. But I still believe deep down that everything will go wrong. Unfortunately I have to face those fears. I can dig myself out of this and I know it. I think my vision is clouded. I don’t have friendships that are on the decline. I have dedicated friends that need me to be my best. Friends that cheer me on. I won’t come back to a cold shoulder, I will come back to open arms and understanding. If only I can echo that back to myself.

Im finding it hard to eat because of all this depression and stress. Best I can do is treat myself to a nice little lunch. Really take my time and care with it.

4:01 PM

What upsets me about something and what can I do about it? I forget I have the power to change things. If I see a dirty surface, I can clean it. If I see something in me I don’t approve of, I can behave in a way to disincentivise it. If I see a problem with someone, I can talk to them about it.

4:35 PM

I can’t in good faith talk to anyone unless I’m in touch with myself first. I’ve done that too much, it means I’m not giving them the proper attention as respect they deserve as another person. It makes it easy for me to misuse their generosity. I know what it’s like to know who I am and connect with others so I know what my goal is and feels like. I want to bring my whole self to any interaction. It only seems responsible. I might not always catch myself though.

I was looking at old VRchat pics with the intent of remember that I was in fact there, and so were they. We were both there. And we are both somewhere now. That makes me feel good and reminds me of what it means to be me. I think I am ready. I hope I’m not rushing myself.

Even when I feel like I wasn’t there, I was. Like how yesterday everything I felt and did, it didn’t seem like “me”. But it was. What I’m experiencing is me trying to cling onto what I think I SHOULD be which is someone that doesn’t do or feel those things. But I did do that, it was part of me. I felt those things. I can’t forget that through it all I am there and everything I do makes me, me.

7:09 PM

I feel volatile again. I just don’t want to feel alone. I want to know someone cares and not just because they are doing it for my own sake. I’m so afraid I’m at the end of the road, how can keep the friends I have and make new ones? How can I accept love?

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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it's no use, i just do {bucky barnes}

'if i just wanted someone to hold, then really anyone would do/i'd close my eyes and really try not to turn them into you, but it's no use, i just love you' - no use i just do, hayley williams

(a.k.a: the one where bucky needs a hug, but specifically from you)

eugh more bucky stuff from my drafts? yes. i think so. truth be told, I started writing this like 3 months ago (whenever flowers for vases came out) but it's been sat collecting dust. enjoy :-)

- jazz xx

p.s this is spoiler free!

The nights were always hardest for Bucky Barnes.

The dark always reminded him of the furthest corners of his mind; the ones holding his worst memories, skeletons collecting dust, rotting away until he forgot about them completely or forced them out with intensive therapy. Both were options that he was completely dreading - so he forced them down, forced them to the back and did everything within his power to ignore. It was easy enough during the day, when he was surrounded by his friends, occupied by work and the buzz of New York City.

Then the sun went away, and with the rising of the moon came the echoes and ghosts of Winter Soldier's past. Thanks to the likes of Netflix and YouTube, the modern world was filled with enough things to distract Bucky from the grips of his own mind. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.

And tonight was one of the nights where it didn't. Every time he shut his eyes - squeezed them shut and gripped onto his thin blankets like a flimsy anchor to the present - he got flashbacks. Reminders of the things he'd done and the people he'd hurt. They always had the same look in their eyes, whenever they flashed into his mind. He couldn't see it then, but now he could feel again, he knew it was fear. The same look he had in his eyes every time he was clamped into a chair and forced to have the last remaining ounce of his humanity wiped.

Bucky's hold-ups about his feelings for you seemed almost comical compared to the problems he dealt with then. But he could feel more now, which meant his brain was so hyperaware of every little thing he felt for you; love, attachment, fear. All things that were enough to send him into a spiral, even if the feeling of your arms around him and lips meshed against his was the first reminder of his humanity since nineteen-forty-fucking-five.

Distance had felt like the answer. Cutting you out completely and acting like he hadn't fallen into your bed every night for six months seeking comfort. It was kind of a dick move, but it was one you understood. Actually, no, it wasn't, because you didn't understand a single thing the man ever fucking did. That's probably why you'd let him go so easily - people came and went. Maybe he was just supposed to be the latter.

How was it going, you ask? Given that Bucky had elbowed his way into your apartment complex at 3AM and was pacing outside your front door - pretty fucking terribly. Normally, he wasn't that bad at resisting the urge to seek you out, but tonight had been hard. Too hard. His hands were still shaking, shirt still sticking to his back with sweat. The nightmares had been...visual, to say the least. He felt like a monster, and you were the only person he trusted enough to convince him otherwise.

"Hey, dumbass. I have a Ring doorbell - what the fuck are you doing out there?"

Bucky jumped at the sound of your voice. Technology: 1. Barnes: 0.

The front door swung open, revealing a tired-looking you. Your hair was pushed back off your face, large nightshirt swamping your body. He knew you got mad when your beauty sleep was interrupted, but you got even madder when he suffered in silence.

"I..." Bucky trailed off.

"Nightmares. I know." You stepped aside. "Come in."

You didn't push any further, or berate him for his radio silence over the last few weeks. He was grateful for that. You were the only person who didn't ask so many questions all the time. Bucky didn't mind talking, but recounting his entire life story to Sam Wilson whilst they drove to Walmart wasn't his idea of fun.

Your apartment still felt homier than his. The walls were covered in photos of you and your friends and family, and shitty little drawings done by your various, younger relatives. Your fridge had postcards and letters hung on it, and there was clutter all over the kitchen counter. The thousands of pillows piled high on your sofa were practically a safe haven. There was a soft scent of vanilla hanging in the air from all your little diffusers, making him smile slightly.

"You got new curtains?" Bucky helplessly pointed to your window.

"How very observant of you." You placed a hand on his arm as you brushed past him. "What's going on, Buck?"

"With my life, or just tonight?"

"I don't think we have time for the first one." You fell onto the sofa. "Sit."

He took a seat beside you; not on you, but close enough so that your knees were touching. "Every time I close my eyes, I remember."

"That wasn't you." You gently reminded him, reaching out to push his hair back. "Not then and not now."

"I still did it though." He held his hands out in front of him. "These are the hands that killed innocent people. This is the brain that felt no empathy or remorse."

"No." You firmly said. "Those are the hands that fought in Wakanda, for the good fight. This is the brain that comes up with the worst jokes I've ever heard and regularly forgets to buy toilet roll."

His blue eyes wavered from the floor, capturing your gaze. He suddenly fell back against you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in your chest. Everybody else went out their way to make him seem like a monster or a saint - but you? You just made him seem like a human. There wasn't a single perfect one of those. Steve Rogers probably came close, but he was a fucking terrible driver.

"I..." Bucky trailed off. He knew what he wanted to say. Just didn't have the courage to verbalise it. "I appreciate you."

"I know." You murmured, carding a hand through his hair.

Bucky had gone to therapy. He'd taken up exercise (and boxercise and jazzercise) and yoga. He'd tried those stupid fucking cleansing smoothies that his neighbour had sold him - at the time, he had yet been introduced to the idea of multilevel marketing schemes - and gone to meditation classes. None of it worked. Not for a single second.

Then you came in the picture, and he began to see colour etched into the edges of an otherwise black and white world. Where there had been nightmares and flashbacks, he'd found a peaceful night's sleep and pleasant dreams (normally of you, truth be told). The simplicity of it was what made it so complex - because he didn't understand it. Couldn't get his head around the fact that you actually, genuinely wanted to help him.

And he knew it wasn't just your touch or the softness of your skin against his. He'd tried it - sleeping with strangers and staying around the morning after to cuddle. Anything to find human contact with the emotion and the commitment; the very two components that were the secret ingredients to the two of you working so fucking nicely.

"Thank you." Bucky murmured.

"For what?"

"For just..." He glanced up at you, blue eyes holding an emotion you couldn't quite place, "treating me like everyone else. Like a normal person."

"You are a normal person." You softly smiled. "Maybe with a little more baggage, but to the right person, that won't matter."

"Does it matter to you?"

"That's a trap." You thinned your eyes at him. "But no, it doesn't."

He tightened his grip on you, the fear and anxiety draining from his soul. He knew now more than ever that the comfort didn't come from the way he was being held, or the way he was being spoken to. It was who was holding him, and who was speaking to him. You came out on top, every time.

That was why it worked.

It was you. And there was nothing he could do about it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes fluff #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #marvel x y/n #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

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sleepy-belphie · 4 years ago

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Hello! I don’t know if you’re doing headcannon requests but if you don’t mind could you do something along the lines of “the brothers find out mc likes to draw and drew the brothers”

Hi! I am doing hc requests so thank you for sending this in! It was actually really fun to write, I really hope you enjoy it <3 Got a little carried away with this one too lol

Tags: @kawaiiblack

~~~~~

Lucifer:

He’s doing room checks as usual

And you left your sketchpad/drawing tablet out on your desk

You catch sight of it a bit too late and can only watch as Lucifer moves from your dresser to your desk

He pauses as his eyes spot the sketchpad/tablet

He picks it up and looks at it before glancing at you

“May I?”

You nod and nervously watch him go through your work

His face is unreadable as he goes through drawing after drawing of him and his brothers

It feels like an eternity before he finishes

“Do you do commissions?”

It takes a moment for you to register what he’s said

“...what?”

“I’d like to commission you.”

If you do traditional art he asks for a 30x40 of him and his brothers

If you do digital art he asks for a colored, full-body piece of him and his brothers

He lets you decide how much you want to be paid

But he thinks it’s not enough so he pays you 55,000 Grimm

The 30x40 piece hangs in his study

The colored, full-body piece is printed, framed, and sitting on his desk

Mammon:

He bursts into your room one night when you’re finishing up a drawing of Satan and Asmo

You’re not fast enough to hide it from him

“Is that Satan and Asmo? Oi! Where’s my drawing!?”

Before you can show him anything else he’s speaking again

“N-not that I care! It’s hard to capture this perfection! I can see why you haven’t drawn me!”

He tries to act unbothered, but you can see past his tsundere ways

Once he’s done declaring how unbothered he is, you show him some pieces with him in it

He grabs the pad/tablet excitedly and snatches it from you to marvel over your work

“This is actually really good, ya know? I bet we could make some good Grimm off your little talent.”

You can practically see the dollar signs in his eyes

But you tell him that is not happening and take your pad/tablet back

He’s a bit mopey about it for a little but eventually lets it go when he sees you aren’t budging

When he does have a little bit of Grimm he does commission you for a small piece

The brothers’ eyes almost bulge out of their head when they hear that Mammon actually paid you for work

“What!? The Great Mammon can be nice sometimes! It doesn’t mean anything!”

It means a lot actually

But you’re a pro at reading between the lines with Mammon

Leviathan:

He’s on social media when he sees a drawing on his explore page that he’s absolutely in love with

The art style? Immaculate. He wanted to see so many of his favorite game and anime characters in this style

He imagines Ruri-chan in your art style and his brain just *internet dial-up noises* for about five minutes

He goes to the artist’s profile and starts scrolling through all their posted work

He pauses when he comes across a drawing that looked suspiciously like him in his demon form

The face was blacked out but the serpentine tail, the horns, the diamonds on the neck, the side zipped hoodie

It had to be him

In shock, he scrolls back to the top of the profile and checks out the bio and name of the artist

He is greeted by a very familiar face and name

He is in your room less than 2 minutes later

“You! Y-You did this!?”

You almost drop your pad/tablet thanks to his outburst and abrupt entrance

You look at the DDD that was shoved in your face and slowly nod

You thought he was gonna blow up at you for posting a drawing of him, even though his face wasn’t in it

You are very wrong

Levi becomes your #1 source of income

The moment you finish a piece, he is commissioning you again

You worry that he’s draining his bank account because he tips you very well

But he isn’t bothered at all by it

All of your pieces are on display in his room

He also posts all of your art on his social media and tags you

Your page explodes in popularity and the commissions are rolling in from his online friends

You had no idea otakus pay so well

Mammon is very jealous of the amount of Grimm you have piling up

Satan:

One day he asks you about your hobbies and you tell him you draw

“What do you draw?”

Cue internal conflict on if it’s weird to tell someone you’ve been drawing them and their brothers since you’re always around each other

He senses your hesitation and like the smart ass he is, he’s able to guess exactly why

“Would your hesitance be because of the subject of your art?”

He knows too much for his own good

You decide it’s best for him to see it instead of telling him

Being a fan of literary art, you were worried he may be overly critical of your fine art

He was not the type to sugarcoat anything

However, he simply smiles and hands your pad/tablet back

“You’re incredibly talented, MC.”

A few days later he asks you to tag along with him while he handles something

That ‘something’ is going to feed some stray cats he’s come across

“MC, I’d like to commission you. I’ve found homes for these cats but I want something to remember them by. Will you help me?”

How can you say no to a man holding four cats in his arms?

You take some photos for reference and make four different pieces for him

When you give them to Satan, you swear you’ve never seen a bigger smile on his face

He framed them all and keeps them on top of his bookshelves

Asmodeus:

He found out through Levi’s social media

He commissioned you for a piece of him and the protagonist of a game he recently started playing

This piques Asmo’s interest and he wonders if you’ve ever drawn him before

He approaches you when you’re in the kitchen grabbing a drink

“Hi, darling. I saw the piece you did for Levi and naturally if you’ve done one of him you’ve probably drawn my beauty as well, right?”

You decide to show him since he brought it up

He’s gushing over all of your art

No, seriously, he is praising you so much even the tip of your ears start burning from your blush

He commissions you to draw him in many different ways

Him in his bedroom, him in the bath, him as a mermaid, him as an exotic dancer

He comes to you with so many different ideas

He tests your limits but you actually like that

Beelzebub:

Beel is rather stoic, but he doesn’t mean to be

It was his resting face and smiling was usually reserved for eating yummy food

But you wanted to practice drawing him with different expressions

Beel’s welcoming manner gave you the courage to approach him and ask if you can take some pictures of him to use for a reference

He’s shocked you wanna draw him but agrees with the condition that he gets to see some of your other work

You show him different pieces of him and his brothers and he’s smiling the entire time

“These are all so good. I didn’t know you could draw.”

He commissions a piece of him and Belphegor and one of all seven brothers

But he also asks if he can watch you draw them

You both spend quite a few nights together

You drawing and him munching on snacks and feeding you some every once in a while

His presence is actually pretty calming so you ask him if he minds staying around while you work even after you finish his commission

Beel being Beel, agrees to keep you company

The night usually ends with him carrying you to bed

Sometimes, he takes you to his bed to cuddle

Belphegor:

Belphie was actually the first brother you drew

You came across him asleep in the attic once and he looked so perfect

Your fingers were itching to draw him, so you did

It became a routine for you to head to the attic and draw him while he slept

You always crept out before he woke up

You thought he had no idea of your little practice sessions

But one day you looked down to fix a mistake you made on his nose

When you looked back up you saw Belphie staring right at you

“You know, if you’re gonna draw me the least you can do is show me.”

You try to stammer out an apology as he sits up

“Oh, I don’t care. You don’t make noise or anything, I’m just very hyperaware of my surroundings. So I know when someone is in the same room as me when I sleep.”

He moves over to you and looks at your pad/tablet

“Hm, not bad MC. Show me your other work some time.”

Then he goes back to his sleeping spot, curls up, and falls back asleep

You sit there with your pencil/stylus in your hand, trying to wrap your head around what just happened

But he didn’t seem disturbed so you continue drawing

When he wakes up you show him more of your work featuring his brothers

He asks if he can have a quick sketch you did of him and Beel

You jokingly say he has to pay for it

He actually pays you for it

He puts it up in his room

It’s nice to see when you visit him and Beel

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff #obey me reader insert #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie x reader #Anonymous

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fallingforunrealisticromance · 3 years ago

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I've got you - Derek Morgan x fem!reader part 2

A/N: Part 2 is here!! This is a lot more domestic and fluffy so I hope you guys enjoy:)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2191

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The ride to Derek’s was a quiet one, but I didn’t mind. Even though everything happened so quick, I felt entirely drained. I’d been to his place a million times before but for some reason today felt different, wrong. Derek took my bags and placed them down as we entered, closing the door behind us. I looked tentatively around his hallway, not wanting to move.

“Hey” He placed his hand on my shoulder. “You’re safe here. No one’s gonna hurt you.” His voice was soft, providing me a small amount of comfort. I just nodded at his words. “Come on, let’s get you set up. You need sleep.” With his hand on the small of my back, he guided me gently towards his room.

“Wait Derek no I can’t take your room. This is your place; I’ll just stay on the sofa” I said trying to turn and leave the room, but he pulled me back.

“No y/n don’t be dumb.”

“But-“

“Just be quiet and let me do this for you” He said light-heartedly. Sighing, I reluctantly sat down on his bed. He started rummaging around in his drawers before pulling out a pair of basketball shorts and a big grey sweatshirt. “Here” He chucked them at me, hitting me in the face.

“You know I brought my own stuff” I chuckled.

“Yeah but mine looks so much better on you” He smirked, winking at me.

“Seriously? I’ve just been through a traumatic event and you’re flirting with me” I replied sarcastically, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“No better time beautiful.”

“Oh, shut up.”

He laughed before leaving me to change. I quickly pulled the clothes on, being enveloped by his scent. As expected, they were too big for me, but they hung off me in a casual yet stylish way, so I wasn’t complaining. I made my way out of his room to find him settled on the sofa flicking through Netflix.

“Hey.” I said catching his attention. His eyes scanned over my body as his mouth hung open slightly. “Don’t trip over your jaw there” I joked, sitting next to him.

“When you walk in looking like that what do you expect me to do?”

“Come off it.”

“I’m not lying y/n. your gorgeous.” He stared at me, an emotion flooding his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. We held each other’s gaze longer than I think either of us intended to. The tension in the air was impossible to escape from. I don’t know what it was, maybe the fact he’d saved me, but something was drawing me to him. Like literally. I felt myself slowly moving closer to him, as he copied my actions. My eyes flickered across his face, trying not to pay any attention to his lips. This was my best friend. I shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought of him being anything more. But in that moment, every smile, every laugh, every time he’d made me feel like life was worth living flashed through my head. Had we been this oblivious to something that was starring us in the face this whole time? I could feel his warm breath fanning over my face. Neither of us moved for a second, unsure of what this would mean. But eventually, Derek leaned forward once again. His lips brushed softly against mine.

Just as I closed my eyes, ready to give in to this – give in to him – there was a sharp knock at the door causing us both to jump apart. I pulled the jumper closer to my body, now feeling incredibly stupid and awkward. Derek just starred ahead of him, as if he was trying to process what the fuck just happened. Before either of us could say anything, there was another hard knock at the door. Derek’s head snapped to face it, any tension between us immediately slipped away as he moved in front of me protectively before making his way to the door.

“Stay there” he instructed. As he made his way out of the room, I slumped back into the sofa burying my head in my hands. Why did I just let that happen? Where do we go from here? Have I just fucked everything up? Before I could stress out anymore, Emily’s voice flooded my ears.

“Well neither of you were answering the phone, what did you expect me to think?” Shit. She came round the corner, relief washing over her when she saw me. “hey, are you okay? I called you”

“Yeah I left my phone in Derek’s room, sorry for worrying you” A smirk settled on her lips as she looked between me and Derek.

“Derek’s room huh?” I felt my face flush red as I chuckled awkwardly.

“Get your mind out of the gutter Prentiss.” He joked.

“Well why else was she in there then? And may I ask why she’s in your clothes?” She stated smugly. I rolled my eyes standing up.

“I’ll show you. Come on” I grabbed her hand and tugged her to his room, leaving Derek stood in the front room. I pushed her inside and quickly closed the door behind us.

Emily laughed. “Whoa, you’re in a rush. That excited to show me where the magic happened then?”

“Me and Derek almost kissed” I blurted out in a hushed tone. Her jaw dropped.

“I’m sorry – what” I just nodded. “Explain. Now” She said, sitting down on the bed.

“We were just sitting on the sofa, and he said I look good in his clothes-“

“He’s not wrong you know they really suit you”

“-and then we both just sort of ended up leaning in and then well you came in”

Her face fell once again. “What? Are you joking? Oh, for gods sake I wish I hadn’t come over now.” I chuckled slightly at how distraught she was. “How do you feel?” She asked noticing how I was fidgeting with my hands.

“I don’t know.” I breathed. We were silent for a moment. “I think…I liked it?” I whispered. Emily let out a small cheer, making me jump. “Shush, I don’t want him to hear us”

“Sorry, sorry I’m just happy for you.” I ran my fingers through my hair.

“But what if it doesn’t mean the same to him? I mean you know what he’s like, he flirts with anything with a pulse.”

Emily nodded. “I mean you’re not wrong.”

“Oh great.”

“But he’s different with you.”

I looked at her, confused.

“Oh, come on, don’t act like you don’t see it too” She stated.

“See what?”

“Just him, his behaviour around you”

“You forget that I’m not a profiler Em” I replied rolling my eyes.

“Trust me, it does not take a profiler to work out how he feels about you.” I let her sentence hang in the air. I didn’t really know how to respond to that. “Whenever he’s with you, he just seems so relaxed. He never has to put a front with you, it’s almost like he completely unwinds with you. Not to mention how his eyes never leave you. Every chance that man gets, he’ll be admiring you.” My mouth hung open slightly at her words. “How have you not noticed this?? Not even how affectionate he is with you?? He will take any excuse he can to be near you or touch you.” She explained.

Thinking back on it, what she was saying made sense. Whenever we saw each other – whether in a group setting or alone – he would stay close to me. I can’t count the times he would rest his arms against mine or place his hands on my hips when moving past me, just little things like that that I’d always overlooked. Until now.

“Holy shit” I whispered.

“You see my point?” I nodded at her words. “So, here’s what you’re gonna do. I’m gonna leave, and you my friend, are going to ride that man into the floor.”

“Emily” I slapped her on the arm before bursting out laughing. After we calmed down, she stood up.

“Seriously, make your move.” I sighed.

“I’ll try” We made our way back to the front room where Derek was sat, watching a film.

“Well, I’m off. Have fun” Emily said, waving at Derek. She shot me a supportive thumbs up before leaving. I took a deep breathe, trying to supress any nerves that were threatening to explode before tuning and entering the front room.

“You two took your time.” Derek said, his eyes not leaving the screen.

“Uhm yeah she was just telling me about a date she’d been on.”

“If it wasn’t with JJ I don’t want to know.” I smiled at his words. I glanced over at him, taking my time to appreciate his features. Even though he’d always been attractive, everything about him seemed to be a little more beautiful. The sudden urge to touch him washed over me. I wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and just feel him pressed against me. I wanted to be utterly consumed by him and nothing else.

“You know your starring right?” His voice broke me from my trance.

“Right sorry, just appreciating the view” I mumbled.

“No need to apologise baby girl.” His tone was soft, not something I heard often. It made my heart melt. I looked at my hands, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jumper as I tried to pluck up the courage to talk to him. “Hey.” He called gently. He’d stopped the film by now, his focus solely on me. “Come here.” Slowly, I shuffled my way towards him until I was sat facing him. I tried my best to appear calm, but I think the vigorous tugging of my sleeves gave me away. Derek placed his hands softly over mine, entwinning his fingers with mine. This small display of affection caused my breathing to halter.

“What’s got you all worked up then?” He asked caringly.

“You” I whispered, finally meeting his gaze. His brow furrowed slightly, and he pulled away from me. “No no wait, it’s not a bad thing.” I said reaching for his hands once again. I took a deep breathe. “I don’t know what this is. Or what it could be. All I know is this morning, I saw you as a friend. But now, I want more than that. I want you Derek.” I confessed.

A smile crept its way across his lips, even though he tried to hide it. He placed his hands on my hips before promptly lifting me up and placing me on his lap.

“Well, that was a bit forward” I laughed, my arms snaking their way around his neck.

“Don’t act like you didn’t want this” He said chuckling.

“You got me there.”

We just sat there, relishing this feeling. The feeling of being just us. No BAU buddies, no unsubs, or dickheads from work. Nothing existed outside of each other. We consumed the other’s world for that brief time. Derek lifted his hand, cupping my face. I closed my eyes and leant into his touch, smiling to myself. Yet again, the urge to kiss him swum through me. Clearly he felt the same as he began to lean forward. Just as I was about to press my lips to his, he stopped and pulled back slightly.

“What about Sean?”

“He’s not my type.”

“But surely you’ll want to-“

“Oh just shut up.”

I cut him off by crashing my lips to his. He responded quickly, wrapping his arm tightly around my waist. I melted into his as he overwhelmed my senses. His lips were soft yet rough in the most perfect way. His hand moved from my cheek to tangle in my hair, pulling me impossibly closer. Finally, we were able to let out of the pent-up tension between us in one heated moment. Everything just felt right. Eventually, we both pulled away slightly breathless from the passion of it all. I kept my eyes closed as he rested his forehead against mine, allowing myself to bask in the joy of it all for a moment longer.

“It’s about damn time.” Derek whispered.

“You could’ve said something sooner.” I replied, pulling back to look at him.

“That’s not how I work gorgeous.” He said smiling.

”Mhm I’m aware.” I tried my best to stifle a yawn that had decided now was the perfect time to creep up on me but failed miserably.

“Wow am I that bad of a kisser?” Derek said, mock offence laced in his tone.

“Shut up, you know you’re not.” I said smiling.

“Very true. Come on, you need to sleep.”

I nodded in agreement. I went to get of his lap, but instead was greeted with him wrapping his arms under my legs and lifting me up. As he stood up, he decided to cover my face in a bunch of small kisses making me laugh the whole way to his room. I think that was the moment I knew I loved him. No matter what happened from this point onwards, I would always love Derek Morgan.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 3? I'm not actually sure where to take it from here so if anyone has any suggestions let me know!

Tag list: @1234-angelika @hotch-stufff @wanniiieeee

#derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan #bau #comfort #criminal minds #fem reader #fluff

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blu-joons · 4 years ago

Text

End Of A Bad Day ~ Min Yoongi

The silence that filled the room as you walked in sent a shiver down Yoongi’s spine. He glanced back to look at you, offering you a warm smile as he noticed the panicked expression on your face.

“Hi,” you whispered, barely able to lift your bag off your shoulder as you threw yourself onto the sofa.

Yoongi’s eyes studied you closely as they did every day when you came home from work. You were wrapped up in several layers whilst your teeth chattered, barely able to slip your arms out of your jacket. He reached across, giving it a gentle pull to strip it away from your body.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” He quizzed, leaning across to meet your eyes.

You glanced across at him, noticing how his eyes widened when he noticed how drained you were. He quickly reached behind you to try and buff up the cushions, but your head shook back at him, slowly leaning forwards to your trainers that were on your feet.

“You need to relax,” Yoongi reminded you, brushing his hand over the top of your head. “Try not to worry about anything else for a little while and forget about work.”

You nodded across at him, leaning forwards to try and pull at the knot you’d tied in your shoes. After several attempts, you let go of an exhausted groan as you continued to fumble, missing the lace every single time you tried to grab it.

“Let me,” Yoongi whispered, sliding off of the sofa, sitting down beside your feet, grabbing your ankle.

“I can do it,” you tried to reassure him, but each time you grabbed yet again you missed, becoming more and more agitated with every attempt to try and get your shoe undone.

After watching for a few more moments, Yoongi grabbed onto both of your hands. “Seriously, let me,” he smiled, placing your foot onto his thigh. “You’ve had a bad day, just let me do these things whilst you relax.”

“I should be able to untie my own shoes,” you huffed, feeling butterflies begin to knot in your stomach. As you glanced down, you noticed for the first time how badly your hands were shaking from the anxiety that was growing inside of you.

His head shook, carefully pulling at your two laces to untie the bows that had kept your shoes firmly in place for the last twelve hours. The relief you felt when your shoes finally slipped away from your feet brought a wide smile to your face.

“That feels so much better,” you whispered, stretching your toes out.

Yoongi chuckled gently, placing your shoes underneath the coffee table before reaching out to take a hold of both of your hands, moving up to the sofa to sit back beside you.

“What’s been going on to make you so scared?” He asked, “has work really been getting that hard? Do you need to talk to someone or your manager?”

Your head shook instantly, letting go of a deep breath. “I’m doing alright, it’s just been one of those days. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this bad and I didn’t really know what else to do. I just want to clear my mind for a while.”

With that, Yoongi’s hand began to draw several patterns against your palm with the tips of his fingers. Your attention was instantly drawn to his light touch as your mind tried to figure out what it was that he was drawing against you.

“Talk to me,” Yoongi whispered across at you, moving one of his hands away to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you closely into his chest.

A light sigh came from you as you rested against his chest, feeling his hands brush gently through the top of your head. Your eyes fluttered shut for a few moments as the feeling began to reappear in your hands thanks to Yoongi’s touch.

You never quite knew how he managed to solve every situation that you found yourself in, it was just an instinct in him that knew what to do. He recognised things in yourself that you didn’t even spot, including your nervy hands.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence whilst Yoongi waited for you to find the confidence to tell him what was going on. He refused to let go of your hand the entire time, whilst also refusing to let you continue without telling him what was on your mind.

The tight grip on your hand gave you no choice but to sit down beside him, even if you wanted to escape. Each time he felt your breath hitch, he’d squeeze your hand a little bit tighter before you finally turned to look at him.

“I just don’t know,” you whispered, “it just feels like one of those days that have left me clueless.”

His head nodded, refusing to look away from you as you spoke. Your eyes were on the floor as you tried to find the courage, but Yoongi made sure he was checking over you.

“We all have those sorts of days though.”

“Not me,” you sighed, allowing your shoulders to drop. “I can’t do anything right at the moment and it sucks. I don’t know why I have such a fear inside of me, maybe I’m just terrified of letting people down and doing something wrong.”

His head shook, unwrapping his arm from around you to move against your cheek. The pad of his thumb began to wipe underneath your eyes as Yoongi noticed a few tears forming, catching them before they fell.

“You’re not letting anyone down, and you’re doing nothing wrong, I promise,” he assured you. “We all have those days where we wonder a lot and we fret, that’s a natural human instinct. No one can blame you from being anxious from time to time.”

“I can’t even untie my shoelaces Yoongi,” you reminded him, “what does that make me?”

His head shook once again, catching even more of your tears as they began to fall a little more frequently. Offering you a warming smile, he shuffled closer towards you.

“You’re human,” he chuckled gently, “how you cope with these sorts of days is on you, but no one is going to judge you for it. You cope as you want to cope, and that will never change the fact that I’m going to be right by your side,” he smiled, kissing the side of your head sweetly.

Your body leaned inwards towards his, positioning your head against his shoulder, just above his heart. You slowly moved with the rise and fall of his breathing as he held on tightly to you, allowing you to let go of everything that you’d held onto.

“I’m here,” he whispered down to you gently, “just let it all go for a while, and I’ll be right here to hold your hand throughout.”

You smiled appreciatively up at him, “thank you for being here for me, and doing all of the random things that I can’t do.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m always going to be here for you.”

“Just know that I appreciate it,” you whispered, “more than you’ll ever even know.”

“I know, don’t worry Y/N.”

---

Masterlist

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hashtagdex · 4 years ago

Note

ok ok angst 18 and/or fluff 11 for nurseydex?

thank you so much for these! have Both prompts!

“Leave! Me! Alone!” and “I think I’m in love with you”

Usually, Nursey prides him on being a chill guy, but right now he feels like he's going to lose his mind.

He skips the tenth song in the past minute, Tango's knee bumping into his under the table for the third time. It's not like it matters, though. He can hear Tango, Whiskey and Chowder's conversation about last night’s Falcs game against the Devils clear as day even through the music.

His head is throbbing from squinting down at his notes to try and decipher them, his hand is starting to cramp up as he finishes another page, and he can’t get any damn peace.

With a sigh, he puts his pen down, takes his glasses off, and squeezes the bridge of his nose. Studying in the Haus kitchen really wasn’t his brightest idea, but people would’ve come up to him at the library to talk to him and he wouldn’t get shit done upstairs either.

All he wants is to make it up to his room, crawl under his blanket, and not come out again for the rest of the week. But he can't do that, because he has more than twice as many notes left to copy as he's already gone through.

"Woah, Nursey," Tango starts as he wrestles open a protein bar, and the noise of the struggling wrapper grates even more on Nursey's nerves, "you okay? You look really unchill right now."

Tango's knee bumps against his again. Nursey's head snaps up to look at him, scowling as he forces out, "No, Tony, I'm not fucking okay. I have about a million more pages to do, all of my music fucking sucks, and I can still hear you guys through it! And then you just keep fucking knocking into me!"

Chowder reaches out to touch his forearm. "Nursey—"

"Please just leave me alone!"

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Tango’s expression crumbles and Nursey’s heart sinks. Chowder draws his arm back with a sigh. He knows he has no right to snap at Tango, but now the words are out there and his frustration is still running sky fucking high.

Chowder sends him a hard look as he herds the Tadpoles out of the kitchen. He’ll apologize to Tango later, once he’s calmed down, but right now he's stressed and annoyed and there’s still a never ending pile of work left for him.

He swallows the guilt that rises up, slips his glasses back on, and returns to the next page of notes.

He gets about half a page in before he feels strong hands touch and then squeeze his shoulders in a way that's grounding instead of grating.

Dex. It has to be. No one else really knows how to help him when he's overwhelmed like this.

Nursey pulls out one of his earbuds and turns to face Dex. "I really have to get this done, man."

Dex takes his hands off Nursey’s shoulders—Nursey kind of, embarrassingly, misses the pressure—and fixes him with an unimpressed look. “How long have you been studying?”

Nursey’s eyes flick over to the clock on the wall and, wow, alright. “Uh, five hours, give or take?”

When he started, the sun was still up and the kitchen was deserted. Sometime around hour two or three, Chowder, Whiskey, and Tango showed and asked if it’s fine for them to join him. He grunted out a sure, deep in the notes he took in class earlier. Now it’s dark out.

Dex shifts his weight. “And how much of it are you actually absorbing?”

“Not much,” Nursey admits, crossing his legs under the table.

“Okay,” Dex says with a nod, “time for a break then, c’mon.”

“No, Dex,” Nursey protests, “I need to get this done.”

“Nursey, you’re stressed out,” Dex reasons, and yeah, no shit. “If you keep going now, it won’t do you any good. If anything, it’ll make you even more miserable.”

Nursey huffs. “When did you start making sense?”

Dex just sends him a small, soft smile that Nursey only ever sees when they’re alone. “I know your next exam isn’t until next week. You have time, I swear. You can finish tomorrow. Or later, at least. Self care, y’know?”

Nursey tries to say no, he really does, but in the end, he’s weak when it comes to Dex. Yeah, he’s surprised too. “Fine,” he finally relents. Dex’s smile grows and Nursey has to look away.

With a defeated sigh, he collects his stray pieces of paper, puts his pens back into his case, and lets Dex pull him out of the chair, up the stairs, and all the way into his room.

Inside, Nursey drops his stuff on his desk, then pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Do you want me to go? I can get you something for your headache or maybe a snack. I bet you haven’t eaten the whole time,” Dex asks, lingering by the door.

To his surprise, Dex has become one of the most calming presences in Nursey’s life. Dex and calming should be an oxymoron in and of itself, but here he is, craving Dex’s company. “Actually, could you stay?”

Dex’s smile returns. “Sure,” he agrees and steps back into the room as Nursey turns his attention back to his phone.

Nursey starts typing a text to Tango and out of his periphery, he notices Dex pulling something down from Nursey's bunk and settling down into his old bed.

"C’mere.”

Once he’s sent the I'm sorry for earlier, it wasn't chill of me to lash out at you like that, I’m just mad stressed right now to Tango, Nursey looks up. He finds Dex sitting against the board with a pillow behind his back, his legs spread apart, and Nursey’s comforter at the foot of the bed. "What?" Nursey asks as Dex pats the spot between his legs.

“I’m gonna help you relax, c’mon,” Dex says and pats the mattress again.

Nursey quirks up an eyebrow, but he drops his phone and glasses on his desk and makes his way over to the bed anyway. “Don’t massage my face, you’ll just clog my pores,” he warns.

Dex laughs and Nursey feels more tension drain from his shoulders. “I won’t, I promise.”

Once Nursey’s settled in, both of their legs under his comforter, Dex pulls him against his chest. “Is this okay?”

Nursey nods and leans more of his weight against Dex, pillowing his head near Dex's shoulder.

"Good," Dex says and Nursey swears he can hear the smile in his voice.

Dex takes Nursey's right hand into both of his and starts massaging it, applying just the right amount of pressure to ease the pain. Nursey allows himself to sigh and Dex begins to talk.

He launches into a story about his first time on his uncle's lobster boat, five years old and just barely taller than the traps. His voice is softer than it usually is, quiet and soothing close to Nursey's ear, as he tells Nursey about the gentle rocking of the waves. Listening to his steady heartbeat, it keeps getting harder and harder for Nursey to keep his eyes open.

Nursey lets him get halfway through the story, until Dex switches to his other hand, before he interrupts him.

"Dex?"

Dex pauses in the middle of his sentence and hums, but his hands don’t stop moving.

It gives Nursey the courage to go on. “Why are you always doing this? Helping me when I’m overwhelmed? How do you always know what to do?”

“I guess,” Dex starts quietly, it sounds like he’s hesitating, arranging his words carefully, “I guess I’ve been paying attention.”

The thing is, Nursey’s been paying attention too. He’s been paying attention to Dex frowning when he’s working at a particularly vexing project, to Dex’s hands kneading his stress into pie dough, to Dex looking so proud of the team after games and practices, to Dex’s loud laughter when Nursey or Chowder crack a joke, to Dex’s blush spreading across his whole face when Nursey winks at him.

Nursey thought he was the only one paying attention, though.

“Why?” he presses.

Dex’s hands still.

When Dex stays quiet, Nursey prods gently, “Dex.”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Dex whispers then.

“You think—”

“No, fuck that,” Dex interrupts, voice louder and more powerful, “I know I’m in love with you.”

Dex doesn’t move to leave and Nursey is grateful for it. His heart is beating in his throat, the words of I’m in love with you too on the tip of his tongue, but they’ll have to talk about this. Like, have an actual adult conversation about their feelings and what they want it to mean for the future.

Nursey also knows he’s way too tired to have it the way they really need to, so he just tangles their fingers together and makes sure Dex feels his smile as he presses a kiss to the back of his hand. After he pulls back, he squeezes it, and Dex squeezes right back.

“Tomorrow,” Nursey promises.

“Okay,” Dex agrees easily, running his thumb along Nursey’s.

“Do you have any more dumb stories?”

Dex digs out a story about a prank he pulled on his older brother when he was ten for Nursey as Nursey drifts off to sleep.

#nurseydex #dexnursey #william poindexter #derek nurse #omgcheckplease #nursey is Stressed and in dire need of a nap #if you wonder how dex knew to show up? frog to frog communication #did i make the falcs play the devils bc bruins played them tonight? yes #i also edited a good chunk of this during the game and my god i forgot how stressful bruins hockey can be #this visual has haunted me for a Long time #i hope you like it!! :)#very sorry it took 2 and a half months #bi-ginny-weasley #answered #my writing

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bearseokie · 4 years ago

Text

boyfriend! victon

[ gender-neutral! ] this was originally just a bf! subin headcanon, but i clearly cannot control myself.

victon m.list | navi. | nsfw bf! victon (M)

Seungwoo:

openly admitted his feelings for you in the hopes you would reply with the same emotions.

his gestures are always romantic, even if he means them to be casual (i.e kissing your knuckles, helping you out of a vehicle, pulling your chair out for you.)

sweeps you off your feet every chance he gets. figuratively and physically.

you can't be in a room that doesn't have flowers in them, he makes sure of that.

holds his hand up flat so you can press yours against it.

will walk in on you in the bathroom and laugh at your embarrassed reaction while he brushes his teeth.

gives you his clothes to wear almost every day, you barely wear anything from your own wardrobe.

back hugs you every chance he can.

gym dates where you sit off to the side and take pictures of him while he works out. he eventually gets bored of you watching him and asks to bench you instead of his weights, which ends up in you falling on top of him laughing. if you do work out with him, he spots you the entire time instead of doing his own workout.

drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh.

shakes you awake so you can watch the sunrise through the window together while you lay in each other’s arms.

sleeps on his stomach so you have to hold him instead of the other way around.

tosses you over his shoulder instead of picking you up like normal.

writes handwritten letters when you're apart.

running your fingers through his hair while his head lays on your chest.

when he sings in the shower, he sings at full volume. the steam will be seeping from under the door, and even if you’re dead asleep, he will belt out some high notes that wakes you up instantly with a smile on your face.

lets you sit on his lap all the time. even if he is in the middle of something, he will just slide his arms under yours and continue working with you in his hold.

loves to hold you up by your waist to kiss you like you’re in a dramatic romance movie.

messes with you a lot. loves to piss you off so he can pinch your cheeks and kiss you until you cool down.

the type of boyfriend that invites you to dinner, walks you home, and doesn't leave until the next morning if you catch the drift.

Seungsik:

he is terrible at opening up to people (he's said this himself), and it takes a long time for someone to get to know him.

and by a 'long time' he meant maybe two days after he met you because that title immediately flew out the window. eager to know everything about you, it was only fair that he talked about himself, too.

confessed to you by holding your hand awkwardly while standing behind you so you couldn't see how hard he was blushing

he knows what you're thinking without you even saying anything

does house chores for you regularly so you get time to relax.

"where did these flowers come from?" seungsik.

purposely waits for you to ask him to do something just so he can admit that he already did it. usually ends in you showering him with 'thank you' kisses.

knows your food orders by heart

short walks during light rains just so he has an excuse to cover you with his coat and run home with you.

the most caring person around you when you get sick, will nurse you back to health like his life depends on it.

brings you outside just so you can sit in the grass and blow on dandelions together.

“did you eat yet?” texts regularly

very handy when it comes to home projects. even if you don’t ask you to join him in fixing something, he’ll already be three steps ahead of you with it almost done by the time you get the first word out.

loves to run his hands through your hair.

candlelit dinners late at night while sharing each other’s passions and dreams.

matching phone lock screens where you’re his and he’s yours.

nose kisses.

matching plaid pants.

No matter how far from each other you’re standing, he always instinctively holds his hand out for you to take.

sleeps with your head on his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat.

Chan:

he fell madly in love with you instantly the second he saw you. he couldn’t look away. finally plucked up the courage to ask you out but got so nervous that you had to ask him instead.

can make you laugh with a single facial expression.

once tried to impress you by throwing his coat over a puddle so you could walk over it, it was a sewage drain and his coat was ruined.

leaves the house and returns with every snack imaginable for you to share. lots of lady and the tramp spaghetti moments but with ramen. flavored waters stored in your fridge like the world is ending. enough sweets to survive an apocalypse.

yanks you down the sidewalk to pet a dog.

every time you walk around the park, he asks for you to go down the double slide with him so you can hold hands.

takes up 80% of the bed when sleeping so you have to cling to him in order to not fall off the side.

long phone calls at the end of the day when you’re apart. he tells you everything that happened and doesn’t leave out a single detail.

rooftop dates where you can watch the sun go down while you hold hands and kiss.

he always has a story to tell you, no matter what time of day it is.

picnics.

you’ll never have to open another door for yourself again.

lets you sit behind him so you can hug his back while he holds on to your legs around his waist.

has a soft spot for your laugh. if you start laughing, he'll start laughing, and neither of you will have oxygen in your lungs for a while.

artistic dates where you try out new activities. acrylic pours, spray-painting, even drawing on each other. loves to make a mess of things so he gets to spend more time with you cleaning it up.

matching hoodies.

blaring music while dancing together around your living room.

kisses you like you’re the only two people on the planet.

takes you to a small diner for dinner and you both sit there and talk until the sun is rising.

gets lead on easily, so he trusts you with his life because he loves you.

Sejun:

obnoxious 'go to the store with me' dates where it's just the two of you rampaging around the aisles finding nothing in particular while coming up with more inside jokes than you can memorize.

begs you to watch scary movies with him just so you'll cling to him scared. he clings to you instead because he's terrified.

arcade dates.

loud screaming when he isn't expecting you.

you have a wall dedicated to doodles he’s drawn for you, even if they were torn from the corners of notebook paper. also leaves sticky note messages for you to find around your home.

the type of boyfriend to find an abandoned shopping cart and put you in it to go around town.

karaoke dates where he screams at the top of his lungs.

willingly falls off of furniture reaching you for you when he’s sleepy.

stormy nights are no longer scary because he’ll bring out the battery-powered lantern and some snacks. also helps you build a blanket fort.

piggy-back rides.

every time you turn around he's feeding you food or bringing you something to drink. if you tell him you haven't eaten all day, he'll carry you to the kitchen and spoon-feed you until you're full so he knows you're taken care of.

handmade couples’ bracelets himself.

pushes on 'pull' doors and pulls on 'push' doors, so you have to walk ahead of him or else you'll look goofy. don't even think about making him go between automatic doors, he'll somehow break the sensor.

hugging his neck and resting on his wide shoulders.

car playlists that you both yell at the top of your lungs when going somewhere.

falls asleep against you once a day.

study dates where he helps you go over things for school. turns your notes into games so you learn them easier. you get rewarded for correct answers with kisses.

holding hands while jumping into a pool together. loves to lay on floats with you on top of him until he decides to throw you off into the water. splashes you the second you get around him to begin a war that doesn’t end unless one of you calls a truce.

sleeps on his back with you curled up against him.

holds you by your hips all the time.

Hanse:

the 'he'll never show interest in me.' until one day, in the spur of the moment, he spills out everything. about how he has had a crush on you since you met, how fast his heart races when you look at him, all of the times he's wanted to tell you.

you have to kiss him just to shut him up. which sticks because he rambles to you A Lot and kisses are the only way to help him shut off his brain.

he secretly overthinks everything, but will never let it be known.

you're his notepad so he doesn't have to hold it all in, and he can't go a day without expressing how grateful he is to have you.

late nights laying in each other's arms just talking about life and the world and memories.

studio dates where you randomly show up at like 1 a.m. with coffee and sweets to keep him energized. sometimes he pretends like he’s not going to open the door for you unless you beg him with a pout.

loves to take selfies with you. takes pictures of you when you aren’t looking, and you can’t be angry because you do the same to him.

skin care nights where you just pamper one another.

loves back hugs. and front hugs. he hugs you constantly.

pda is huge with him. he doesn’t care who’s looking, if he wants to hold your hand or kiss you, he will.

tattoo dates where you get to hold his hand and watch him get new ink.

extravagant halloween costumes. like he goes ham on your matching costumes. both of you always win competitions for the best dressed.

mirror pics with you doing random stuff in the back because he gave you zero warning.

movie dates. he purposely puts his hand in the popcorn bowl at the same time you do just so he can make you blush.

loves to cook for you. you don’t even have to ask, he’ll just have a full plate of food waiting for you when you get in. yes, sometimes it’s take out he pretended to cook, but you still love him.

sharing/matching accessories. definitely a lover of couple rings, and you’ll have a few instead of just one pair. he loves variety.

loves to be the little spoon. loves to be called baby. loves praise. loves when you play with his hair. loves when you boop his nose. hanse is that soft baby boyfriend.

steals your clothes more than you steal his.

if you make him laugh hard enough, his cheeks will turn pink and he’ll get flustered and try to hide his face against you.

cool and intimidating to everyone, but your soft boyfriend the second you put his hand in yours.

Byungchan:

'we met on accident' is what he tells everyone, but he actually got on his knees and asked you out thinking you'd never give him the time of day if he didn't do something extravagant.

stares at you when you steal his sweatshirts wondering when he’ll get it back (he won’t).

if you sleep over at his place, just know you’re sleeping more with the layer of blankets and pillows he has on his bed than him. but he will kick them off into the floor when he wants to hold on to you.

you’re convinced he can spawn coffee when you ask for some because he always returns home with them minutes after he leaves.

ice cream dates! or any food specific dates.

tall bf that reaches for things on the top shelf for you.

during his rough days he will cuddle up to you on the couch without saying a word. gently placing his head on your shoulder as he sits beside you, lacing your fingers together. eventually opens up about what’s bothering him, but just wants to be near you at first.

puppy eyes that can convince you to do anything for him. if that's not enough, he'll just kiss you until you comply.

reads books to you when you can’t sleep.

forehead kisses.

adrenaline dates like skydiving, cliff jumping, anything that gives him an excuse to hold on to you while you scream his name.

over-sized coats that he pulls over your shoulders when you feel chilly.

rests his chin on your head all the time just because he can.

aesthetic photo-shoots in random places while you make each other laugh so hard that every photo comes out blurry.

lays on top of you while sleeping. quite literally squashes you. you’re basically his own, personal teddy bear.

the one you scream for when a bug is around. he’ll lift you up onto tall furniture while he picks it up and takes it outside.

high-pitched whiny voice when he’s frustrated so you know that something is bothering him every time. he’s convinced you’re psychic because he doesn’t know that his voice does that subconsciously.

late nights staying up to watch old sitcoms while his head lays in your lap.

stealing his beanies.

if you get into bed with him, you won’t be able to get out.

Subin:

'best friends to lovers' !!!

before he knew he was in love with you, he would just find ways to spend time with you. long nights studying together. sleepovers consisting of movies and video games. sharing food and drinks without thinking twice about it.

his usually soft and calm demeanor immediately went away the second he realized he had feelings for you.

his scent is your favorite thing in the world.

cuddles up against you while sleeping. like his face in your neck, cuddling.

intense eyes always watching you until you finally meet his gaze, then he softens up.

he cannot sleep unless you are beside him. even calling and talking doesn't help, he needs you next to him.

couch potatoes.

rarely goes out for dinner dates, prefers to just order in and stay in comfortable clothing. which also benefits his cuddle time afterward.

matching pajama sets with slippers

chases you trying to get a hug

he's very stubborn if you ask him to do something. you'll have to play the 'no, you.' game for a while before he huffs and gets up to do it.

sundays are cuddle in bed days, he insists.

very competitive towards you while playing video games, kisses you when you lose but won't even look at you when you win.

his soft, pouty lips.

never lets go of your hand. you could be in the middle of something important and he'll still lace his fingers with yours.

sliding his glasses off his face when he falls asleep with them on.

middle of the night wake-ups were he just wants to hold and kiss you while lightly rocking you in his arms until you fall back asleep.

making him his favorite treats when he’s been working a lot so he knows you’re proud of him.

if he starts kissing your neck, it’s game time.

#victon #victon headcanon #victon scenarios #victon imagines #seungsik #seungwoo #heochan #sejun #byungchan #subin #kang seungsik #han seungwoo #hanse #do hanse #im sejun #lim sejun #choi byungchan #jung subin #victon.headcanon

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hysterialevi · 4 years ago

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Hjarta | Chapter 11

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE LONGHOUSE

Pain. That was all he could see.

As Sigurd walked side-by-side with Ulfar through the longhouse’s doors, he heard nothing but the agonized groans of fallen warriors, and the devastated cries of survivors who were now mourning their loved ones.

The horrid stench of smoke and death clung stubbornly onto the wooden walls, and with so many fresh corpses now littering the village, they had what looked like a battlefield sitting on their very doorstep.

It was a nightmare come to life. Even though Sigurd was no stranger to the morbidity of war -- he had grown up in the midst of one, after all -- it was still enough to make his stomach churn, and his heart ache.

How could this have happened? And during such a joyous event as well? Today was meant to be a day for their clans to celebrate; to enjoy themselves. But instead, they were now taking shelter in the longhouse, and being forced to isolate themselves from the mayhem that lurked outside.

It looked like Muspelheim itself had razed Bjornheimr’s streets, and frankly, Sigurd didn’t know how they were going to recover from this.

“Poor woman...” Ulfar said, gazing in Ingrida’s direction. At the moment, the seeress was holding Eirik’s body in her arms and gently stroking his forehead, comforting him as if he had contracted a simple ailment. Not a single word was being uttered from her lips, and yet, the lifelessness of her expression was enough to say everything.

“No parent should have to lose their child,” Ulfar remarked, his voice heavy with sorrow. “I can’t imagine what that woman is going through right now.”

The prince followed his line of sight. “What happened to Eirik? How did he die?”

“I have no idea. He approached me and Eivor at the temple just before the assault was launched... with three arrows in his back. He wanted me to tell Ingrida something, but... he slipped away before he could get the words out.”

The older man’s brow crinkled with anger. “Those bastards. Kjotve’s men didn’t even have the honor of giving Eirik a warrior’s death. They shot him down like a dog.”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, crossing his arms in a stern manner. “...How did this even happen? You and I spent so much time planning the defenses of this village. We cleared the forest of Kjotve’s camps. How is it that his people overwhelmed us so easily?”

Ulfar’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “I have the same question. It’s possible that Kjotve’s been planning this for a while, but... still. I’d be lying if I said the efficiency of this attack wasn’t suspicious.”

Bringing their conversation to a halt, a nearby series of footsteps suddenly made its way into the building, drawing both the men’s attention to the doorway.

In the distance, Sigurd saw Eivor dragging himself into the longhouse with his father’s axe in hand, still as bleak as before. His head sank with a profound sense of melancholy, and his feet lingered behind him in a manner that made it seem as if chains holding him down.

At first, the prince expected Eivor to say something to Ulfar upon entry, but instead, he simply drifted past the two of them without a single word, and headed out into the training yard adjacent to the longhouse.

“...Do you think he’ll be alright?” Sigurd asked, watching as the man slipped away.

Ulfar shrugged. “I cannot say. Eivor has always been strong, but even the strongest of men have their weaknesses. Kjotve has caused him much pain ever since he was a child. It will take him time to recover from this battle.”

The prince’s voice softened at the thought of a recent memory. “...Eivor told me about his parents a while ago, you know. About how Kjotve killed them.”

“Then you understand the gravity of what happened today. Kjotve trying to kill Eivor in the same way he murdered Varin -- it’s an insult deserving of an axe to the chest. I’ll be surprised if the boy lets this go.”

Sigurd paused for a moment, allowing the realization to settle in. “...Eivor nearly gave up Valhalla in exchange for my survival. He was willing to die without a fight... just to ensure that I lived.”

Ulfar nodded, recalling his conversation with Eivor all those years ago. “Yes. Because in the end, you were more important to him than anything Valhalla could’ve offered. He spent the past thirteen years dreaming of the day he’d finally get revenge, and he sacrificed it for you. I hope you understand that, Sigurd.”

“Of course. I owe him my life.”

“Indeed.”

Sigurd decided to follow Eivor and began making his way out of the longhouse, hoping to catch the young man before he disappeared.

“Wait here,” he told Ulfar. “I’ll go speak with him. I want to see how he’s doing.”

“Hold a moment.” The raider said, stopping Sigurd in his tracks.

“Yes? What is it?”

The older man fell silent for a second, pondering how to broach the subject.

“Before you go, Sigurd, there’s something else you should be aware of.” Ulfar lowered his voice, ensuring that no one else could hear him. “...I know about your relationship with Eivor.”

Sigurd’s heart skipped a beat, and the color drained from his face. “You-- what?”

“Eivor confided in me during the wedding,” Ulfar explained. “He had quite a lot on his mind, and was willing to tell me about your affair. Have no fear, though. I won’t expose your secret. He entrusted me with this matter, and I have no intentions of betraying that trust. However, there is something I need to make clear.”

The prince listened intently, worried about where this was going. “...Alright, then. Speak your mind.”

The raider crossed his arms. “It pains me to separate Eivor from someone who makes him happy, but for the sake of this alliance, I must insist that you keep things at a platonic level if you wish to console him. I realize it’s not always that easy, but our clans need each other to win this war. If your marriage with Randvi falls apart, so does our bond.”

Sigurd took his words to heart, regardless of how reluctant he may have been to accept reality.

“I understand, Ulfar. You have nothing to fear. I wouldn’t jeopardize this marriage.”

Ulfar didn’t look entirely convinced. “I hope so. You have my trust for now, Sigurd, but just remember -- I don’t give it blindly.” He turned away from the prince, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. “Anyway, go and see Eivor. I imagine he’s somewhere in the training yard. If the two of you wish to join me later, I’ll be speaking with the jarl and your father in the war room. We have much to discuss.”

“I will.”

“Look after that boy, Sigurd,” Ulfar said, striding to the front of the longhouse. “He cares about you more than you realize.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE TRAINING YARD

Stepping back out into the open, Sigurd welcomed himself into the deserted training yard as he scanned the area for Eivor, admittedly reluctant to wander through the aftermath of the recent battle. The thick scent of smoke and ash immediately smacked him across the face once he was outside, and even now, he could still feel the heat of the raging fires consuming their entire village.

He imagined Eivor’s state of mind must’ve been dire, if he was willing to take solace in an environment like this. Bjornheimr was hardly recognizable after the chaos Kjotve wreaked, and yet, the young man found it preferable to staying within the confines of the longhouse.

Sigurd supposed it was understandable, considering his exchange with the enemy. Kjotve could’ve cut Eivor down in the midst of a proper holmgang, but instead, he decided to do something worse. He took away his honor.

He degraded the Wolf-Kissed with the same impossible dilemma he once thrust upon Varin, and now, the nightmare would only haunt Eivor again. The gods would know of his swift surrender and declare it as an action of cowardice, and he would likely receive judgement from his fellow clan members.

In Sigurd’s eyes though, the man was a hero. He sacrificed one of the greatest honors known to Midgard in exchange for his family’s safety, and he did so with barely any hesitation. He displayed more courage than Sigurd had ever seen from anyone else in his life, and yet, he would have to reclaim his honor simply because he was willing to put down his axe.

It was a series of events laden with unfairness in Sigurd’s opinion, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to change it nonetheless.

Roaming closer to the training yard, Sigurd’s head perked up in interest when the sound of metal scraping against wood suddenly reached his ears, drawing his focus to a nearby tree. There, he saw Eivor himself fervently slashing his axe against the trunk, letting out occasional shouts of anger.

His movements were erratic and driven by rage, and at certain points, the prince even feared he might chop down the whole tree. Eivor seemed to be trapped in a tempest of fury that Sigurd had never witnessed in the past, and frankly, he was concerned about the man’s well-being.

“Eivor?” He called out. The younger man swung his axe one more time before coming to a halt, giving Sigurd no more than a brief glance.

“...What?” He replied sharply, speaking through rapid breaths.

The prince approached his friend, careful not to provoke him any further.

“I don’t mean to disturb you,” he said gently, “but... I was worried. You disappeared from the longhouse so quick. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Eivor turned around, revealing the glower that had been branded into his face.

“How do you think I’m doing?” He snapped, lodging the weapon’s blade into the wood. “The gods granted me the chance to kill Kjotve after thirteen years... and I wasted it! He was right there. He was right in front of me. I could’ve done something -- anything! Even if it killed me, it would’ve been better than surrendering!”

He stormed away from the tree and began pacing around the yard, attempting to recompose himself.

“By Odin, I’m such an idiot. I’ve spent my entire life preparing for this moment. Waiting for it. I’ve endured countless days of training, planning -- everything you can think of. I’ve placed offer after offer at the feet of the gods, just begging them for the chance to bury my axe in Kjotve’s chest. And what do I do when they finally give it to me?” Eivor kicked a rock resting by his feet. “I walk away.”

Sigurd gazed at the man in sympathy, wishing he could comfort him somehow.

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself, Eivor. You may have let Kjotve slip from your grasp for now, but remember why you did it. You did it to save your family. You did it to save me. I... I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t shown up. I owe you my life.”

Eivor plopped himself on the ground and sat against the longhouse’s walls, staring upwards at the smoke-riddled sky.

“Perhaps I should be proud of myself, then,” he said, “but I’m not. If anything, I just feel like a fool. I feel like... like I’ve failed my father. Like I’ve wasted everything he did for me.”

Sigurd took a seat next to the Wolf-Kissed, allowing his feet to rest for the moment. “You’re too hard on yourself, drengr. Your father would understand. He was once in the same position as you, after all. Not only that, but he also made the same choice. He would be proud of your sacrifice.”

Contrary to what the older man expected, Eivor only seemed to grow more bitter.

“I guess. But-- why are you even here? I thought you’d be in the longhouse, looking after the villagers with Randvi. What are you doing out here talking to me?”

“Randvi has her own duties to take care of, and so do I. But I wanted to see you first. Just because I’m married now doesn’t mean I don’t care about you anymore, Eivor.”

The man shook his head. “Well, you shouldn’t. You can’t afford to care about me, Sigurd. You have a wife now. A future queen. She’s the one you need to be focused on. Not me.”

Sigurd was admittedly taken aback by the coldness in his tone, but brushed it off nonetheless. He knew Eivor was hurting at the moment, and it felt wrong for him to hold that against him.

“Eivor...” he said softly, “listen to me. Kjotve may have escaped from our grasp today, but we are not letting him go. Ulfar is devising a plan in the war room as we speak. We will find him again. You will get your chance.”

The young man sighed out of exhaustion, causing his shoulders to slouch. “...I hope so. I’ve fought too hard for this war to end now. I can’t let Kjotve get away. Not when I’m so close. I just pray that the gods will deem me worthy of a second chance.”

Sigurd gave him a reassuring nod. “They will. This fight isn’t over yet, Eivor. In fact, it’s hardly begun. We haven’t seen the last of Kjotve. I know it.”

Eivor dragged a hand down his face and drifted off into silence, staring at the clouds of smoke forming in the distance. By now, they had completely blotted out the sapphire embrace of the sky above, and darkened the land beneath with a looming shadow.

Particles of ash fluttered through the air like autumn leaves twirling in the wind, and in the distance, Eivor saw nothing but a shroud of fire obscuring the horizon beyond.

As for the man himself, he seemed to have calmed down somewhat compared to when Sigurd first arrived. A glimmer of hope had returned to the blankness of his empty gaze, but a grim veil of despair still clung onto his expression. He had lost every shred of the motivation that once fueled him, and even now, the pain of losing a loved one to an arranged marriage continued to pester him.

“...Kjotve ruined my life that night, you know.” Eivor said, devoid of any emotion. “He took away my family, my home -- everything that I loved. The only life I ever knew was stolen from me in an instant, and the whole world shifted into something that I no longer recognized.” The young man peered at his companion, still leaning against the wall. “...He must die, Sigurd. Not just for me, but for everyone he’s hurt.”

The prince rested an elbow on his knee. “Kjotve’s judgement will come. The gods know of his cruelty just as we do. The Nornir will cut his thread soon enough.”

“Then let’s pray that I live long enough to witness that day.”

Taking a second to gather himself, Eivor broke free from the cage barring his mind for just a moment and looked Sigurd in the eye, returning to the same man the prince knew so well.

“...Anyway. Thank you for coming to check on me, Sigurd.” He whispered. “I appreciate it. I apologize if I was somewhat... harsh earlier. I’m just so lost right now.”

Sigurd wasn’t bothered. “I understand. We all have a breaking point. Even you. What’s important is that you don’t let it hold you down forever.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “But sometimes, the temptation to give up is almost irresistible. The idea of being able to forget about all this, and live my life without fear or conflict -- it’s something that grows more alluring by the day. But I know I can’t let myself fall prey to these thoughts. I need to stay focused. I need to keep fighting. Even if it leads me into the Valkyries’ arms.”

Sigurd leaned closer to Eivor and placed a hand over his, mindlessly stroking it as if it were second nature.

“Well, wherever this path takes us, just remember that I’m here for you. You’ve saved my life multiple times already. It’s the least I can do.”

Suddenly realizing what he was doing, the prince came to an abrupt pause and instantly retreated his hand, silently cursing himself for not putting a leash on his affections. He backed away from Eivor and averted his eyes, stumbling over his next words.

“...F-Forgive me. I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” Eivor interrupted. “You don’t have to explain.”

A deep sigh escaped Sigurd’s lips. “I just don’t understand why it’s so difficult to ignore the way I feel. I’m a married man now. Shouldn’t that be enough to hinder my fondness for you? Why does this always happen?”

The younger man offered some advice. “The best thing you can do right now, Sigurd, is to avoid me entirely. We both know how challenging it is to conceal our true thoughts. Perhaps we shouldn’t give them the chance to cross our minds at all.”

“But I can’t just pretend like you don’t exist. I still want you in my life, Eivor. I still want to be near you. We may not have the option of being together like before, but you’re not somebody I want to forget.”

Eivor’s face dimmed with sorrow. “Well, you may have to. For the sake of this alliance. Things are precarious enough as it is. We can’t risk anyone else finding out about our previous encounters.”

Sigurd disagreed. “You’re important to me. Nothing’s going to change that, no matter how much I may have to restrain myself. I just wish things were easier.”

The older man decided to put this conversation to an early end and rose from the ground, not wanting to let his emotions fester any longer.

“Anyway... I should get going. I imagine Ulfar’s still speaking with the jarl, and I’d like to join him. Do you want to come with me?”

Eivor refused the offer. “I’d rather be alone right now. I’ve had enough of discussing war and politics for one day.”

“Of course, I understand. You must be exhausted. Take this time to get some rest. I’ll tell you the outcome of our discussions later.” Sigurd took a few steps away from the Wolf-Kissed, leaving him alone on the ground. “Well then, I guess I’ll see you around, Eivor. Please, stay safe. Now that we know Kjotve is merely a stone’s throw away from Bjornheimr, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

The young man remained seated on the grass. “The same goes for you, Sigurd. Be careful out there. You’re the last person I want to lose.”

“Oh, believe me,” Sigurd replied, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

#hjarta #assassin's creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sigurd styrbjornson #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #eivor varinsson #male eivor #sigurd x male eivor #ac valhalla fanfic

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moon-goddess-posts · 4 years ago

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Hello everyone! This is my first fanfiction and I decided to write kaeya first because I just love him sm 😭😭😭😭 anyway hope you guys enjoy! Zhongli is up next. I'm also new to Tumblr so idk how this works LMFAO

Kaeya x Gn reader

Fluff, kaeya is weird but its ok cause he warms up to you, didn't proof read this cause it was 1am

You were walking around the streets of mondstadt, you always loved the night and decided to come out for some fresh air. Lost in thought, you were reflecting on your first moments here and how the handsome calvary captain gave you a tour of the city. You were an adventurer from Fontaine seeking to do research on all the 7 regions. Mondstadt was the first region on your list. You've heard most of it from stories on barbatos and how he saved mondstadt, but you'd love to meet the people and all the certain flowers that were around. You finally arrived at the front gate and the guards gave you a warm welcome. The city air was fresh and everything had a carefree warm feel to it. "This truly is the city of freedom" you thought to yourself and smiled. Having everything written down on your notebook, you decided to try out the foods that were common here. "What can I get for you today?" The women spoke as you came up to the counter. You took out your notebook and chose a dish. "I'll take one chicken mushroom skewer please, ah would I also ask for your name if you don't mind?" You gave a friendly smile. "My name is Sara, worker at Good Hunter! Your food will be right up. I see you arent around here." "Nice to meet you Sara, im actually traveling the 7 regions for my art pieces and mondstadt just happened to be my first one. I would love to know some tourist attractions around here, would you happen to know a guide?" It was nice to see a conversation going well especially since you were never really the best at conversations. But you wanted to hurry up because your social battery was draining fast. "Id love to be your guide" and unfamiliar voice came to the right and you shot your head to that direction. His appearance was definitely different from the rest of the citizens but looked really attractive either way. He was leaning against the booth almost giving off an intimidating nature underneath the layers of charming. "Really? That would be great, thank you so much! And uhm your name is...?" Depsite the oddness you got from him, you did your best to continue the conversation as normally as possible. "Kaeya, Knights of Favionus, happy to be your guide dear" his sudden pet name made you flitch but you pushed it off "So where are we going first dear calvary captain" you gave him a teasing remark as you smirked. He chuckled "well obviously I wouldn't be a good tour guide if I didn't show you the Barbatos statute first." "Ah of course haha" you gave him a nervous chuckle. "Is there any other reason you decided to come here other than to just "explore"" You thought he ease dropped on your conversation, and even so he still didn't find you that trust worthy. "Well I'm a pretty well known artist where I'm from, but besides just coming here to make art I also decided to write a few poems for each region. If you'd want I can show you my works" you smiled happily and his cold attitude started to fade just a bit. "You can show me once we get to the next place, feel free to draw me then too ♡" it wasn't the best first impression but at least he didn't feel as hostile anymore. You and Kaeya finally made it to the statue and it was more beautiful in person than your thoughts could ever imagine. Ideas started to flow through your brain on how to paint it. "Wow its so...." you were at a lost for words. "Breathtaking isn't it?" Kaeya finished your sentence and you flahsed him a small smile and nod. "Yeah it is, ill be sure to mark it down as the first place to paint. Maybe if you'd like, you can give it to the Acting Grandmaster as a token of my thanks for having me here" "Such a kind hearted soul arent you? I'll be sure to inform her." Kaeya patted your head and walked off, assuming he was leading you to the second destination, you started to follow him. "You should stop by the tavern Cats Tail sometime tonight, I can tell you more about this place and if you'd like, more about me," You saw this as an opportunity for more research on the area, and maybe get to know Kaeya a bit more, he truly was an interesting person, so you

accepted. "I'll be sure to make it around 18:00 or 19:00!" The next destination included a beautiful tree, lake, and another small statue of barbatos. You thought it was truly magnificent, especially how the sun hit the leaves all so perfectly giving it a warm glow. "This place is Windrise. Its often associated with love and is one of the most well know spot for dates." He winked at you and you looked away, not really sure what to do. "Is that so? I can see why. Its very beautiful." You did your best not to stutter from how flirty he was being. "This statue here is for offerings. You find anemoculous and you offer them to the statues. In return, you get a gift from the God." "Oh! We have on of those where I'm from as well, but its a different person." You weren't really sure why you wouldn't tell him where you were from, maybe it was because he was super analytical, or the whole predator with its prey vibe he got going on. "There are 7 types of statues that represent the 7 archons, would it be ok if you'd tell me where you're from? I'm just so interested in you." He gave a flirty smirk and you couldn't help but blush a little bit. "Uhm I'm from Fontaine, if you couldn't tell by the clothes. Its quite similar to Mondstadt, but I find it here to be more peaceful and calming than there." "Fontaine huh? I've heard people live the luxury over there. Very formal." He laughed a bit, part of him was right but it wasn't all that good as he was making it sound. "Hmm I guess you could say that, my parents were pretty well off but I can't say much about the rest." Your gaze drifted off to the forming sunset and you wondered if you should head back soon. "Ill head back, ill tell you more about the attractions tomorrow. Don't forget our date tonight deary..." He waved goodbye and walked off. "Deary.." you said to yourself, he flattered you very much but all of it seemed off in a way. You didn't think to much about it and decided to head back too. Your memories of your first interaction with Kaeya was over once you heard someone call your name. A familiar voice that was. "Y/n!" Kaeya called out. Automatically knowing who it was, you turned around to be greeted by a fine tall man dressed in blue tones "Hi Kaeya!" "I dont think its a good idea for a pretty lady like you to be walking out so late at night." He sounded amused but you were over it. "Oh cut it out captain, I know you were just swooning some girls a couple minutes ago." "Haha so what, you jealous?" "Dont flatter yourself, why would I be jealous anyway? Feelings like those are just a waste of time" you hated to admit that you were just a tiny bit jealous. You weren't sure how your crush on the calvary captain formed but it did and it didn't seem to be going away any time soon. Part of you thought maybe he already knew and he was just toying with you. Or maybe he was oblivious to it, thinking no one could love such a person like him. Either way, you still kept these feelings inside. "There's no shame in bearing emotion, love, its just our nature. And for a while I think you've been feeling pretty intense emotions about a certain someone..." His hand tilted your chin so you could face up to him. Shoot did he know? How was that possible? Was I that obvious? You thought to yourself, you weren't sure how you were going to get out of this situation. "I...I-its nothing that concerns of you" you broke eye contact but you knew kaeya wasn't letting up. "A lie to a lier is no stranger, but if you wish to keep your secrets then who am I to cross such a boundary." He back off from you and you started to breathe again. You wanted to tell him so bad. How much you loved and cared for him, how much you so desperately wanted to be there for him no matter what situation. You were willing to take risks for him if it meant that one day you would forever be together. But maybe you thought the image you had of him was wrong. You knew well enough his flirty nature was never sincere, and how he was hiding something much darker then you ever wanted to imagine. Even so, you still wanted your

thoughts of him to become right. So before he walked off again you mustered up the courage. "Kaeya wait! I, I do actually want to tell you something." He looked surprised now but intrigued. "Ever since we met, there was always something different about you. It always left me wanting to know more and over the years I did learn more about you. But then I started feeling these weird emotions and having thse weird thoughts like thinking maybe one day we could be together...or knowing the real you even. I know you say less than you lead on but I felt like I'd be willing to take extreme risks to know who you actually are. I feel so safe around you and I always smile at those good memories we have. I dont know if this is called love, I dont know fully what love is but you're special enough for me to be having these feelings." Thats it, you let everything out. Awaiting for rejection, you began to panic when the silence held for what seemed like an eternity, until you heard him walking toward you. He held your chin again and gave you a look you've never seen before. A mix of admiration, and happiness. He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip and you tensed up. "Kaeya...." Before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a kiss. A new feeling started to arise and your whole body began to feel hot. Euphoria was coursing through your veins and you felt like you were going to fall without Kaeyas support. He was so warm, so intoxicating. You couldn't even feel where you were or he was, it all just became a bundle of sensations and happiness. You couldn't tell how long you both had kissed for but you were the first one to pull away as your breath began to shorten. "As much as a flirt as I am, I dont do well communicating my actual emotions. So id prefer to show them through my actions. I cant say it right now, but I hope that helped you realize what my answer is." He pulled you into a hug and you buried his face into his fur jacket. Already knowing his answer, you breathed a sigh of relief

#genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #i love kaeya #kaeya x gn reader #kaeya genshin impact #kaey

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mycomfortblanket · 4 years ago

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If I Lose Him Like This

Chap 6

“What’s going on?” Katara asks.

Her voice rings through the room and it takes everything in Toph to not break down even more and show everyone how weak she truly is.

“Katara,” Aang stands up from the bed, “I-” before he is able to say anything else, she turns and walks out of the room and Aang is immediately standing up and going after her.

Toph drops her head and looks down at the ground so ashamed of herself. Not only did she hurt herself, she hurt her best friend in the process. She feels Zuko still standing at the door to the bedroom. Slowly, he walks over to her and places his hand on her shoulders.

“Oh, Kiddo,” he whispers and Toph immediately drops her façade and crushes her face to his chest and wraps her arms around his middle and just cries.

She hears Aang running after her and the tears are just falling out of her eyes, “Katara, please.” She feels his featherlight touches on her arm, instead of turning around, she just stops walking, her head hanging down.

“You know, I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at her,” she pauses for a moment, “Like she holds the whole world in her hands. You used to look at me like that.” She turns around and faces him and he can see the few tears that have escaped her eyes have made trails down her cheeks. His eyes track the movement of a fresh tear falling.

“You haven’t been the same since you came back from that trip a few weeks ago.” She takes a deep breath and braces herself for the answer to her next question, “Did you go see her?”

His eyes fill with his own tears but he still answers, “Yes,” he whispers.

Katara nods at this, “Did you sleep with her?”

“No, I didn’t sleep with her,” He answers automatically and then a look of pain crosses his face, “But years ago, when you and I had that fight about our future and had broken up for a few months-” he cuts himself off, not wanting to go into detail about it.

“Why was she crying back there? Toph doesn’t cry, so what happened?” She has a hard time forcing herself to keep going, “Were you forcing yourself-”

“Spirits, Katara! No! What kind of man do you think I am?!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t think you were the type to cheat on me, but I was wrong in that category, wasn’t I?” she yells back. She seems the impact her words have on him, the color drains from his face.

“Fuck, Katara. I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you like this,” he says earnestly and he drops his head in shame.

She suddenly feels bad for asking him if he was forcing himself on Toph, she knows he isn’t that kind of man. “I could feel us breaking apart. The past few months, we haven’t been us. I thought, maybe, it was just me, but then you came back from that trip, and I knew it wasn’t.” She sees a few tears building in his eyes and he drops his head. “Do you love her?”

His head snaps up and she can see the desperation and pain in his eyes. He closes them and whispers, “Yes.”

--------------------

Iroh places a cup of tea in front of her and moves to sit back down in his spot. Neither of them talk, but rather sit in each other's presence. After Katara and Aang left the bedroom, Zuko took her back to his Royal Chambers and asked a maid to quickly fetch Uncle.

He knew that Uncle somehow had a way of calming Toph down the way no one else could. The tears quickly dried on her cheeks when she heard that another person was coming into the room. Too many people had already seen her weak.

They don’t say anything for a full hour, and Uncle has poured her several cups. She doesn’t know how more tea keeps popping up, but her cup is never empty. The warmth in her stomach from the drink is settling her nerves and she begins to feel better about the events of the night.

“The sun is beginning to rise, and with it, a new day. A new day brings forth new opportunities,” he says to Toph.

She doesn’t say anything but drops her head and plays with her fingers. There’s no way Katara would forgive her for what she did, she could barely even begin to think about forgiving herself.

“I should probably leave,” she says, standing up.

“And go where?” Uncle asks in a calm voice. Toph doesn’t answer, just stares down at the floor, unsure of what to do with herself. She can’t bear to see her friends again. After the wedding, Katara didn’t even know, but now…? There’s no telling what her and Aang talked about once they left the room and she can’t bear to see them together again.

“I don’t know, I just can’t stay here,” she says and walks out of the room.

--------------------

Katara is standing just outside of Toph’s bedroom door, unsure of how to go about this conversation. Finally mustering up the courage, she knocks on the door, once, twice, three times. When she doesn’t get a reply, she opens the door and sees Toph sitting on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest and hiding her face in her knees.

Seeing her like this, her heart breaks. Any anger that she had towards the girl has completely dissipated and is left with sympathy and pity.

“Can we talk?” her voice seems too loud in the quiet room and she sees Toph jump at her voice but just barely lifts her head to give a nod before shrinking back down. Taking a deep breath, Katara walks further into the room and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to say anything, I already know. I’ll be leaving in a few hours.”

“I don’t blame you,” she says and watches Toph closely for some sort of reaction but isn’t given anything. Her head is still resting on her arms that are cradling her knees, a blank look on her face. “And I don’t blame him,” this gets a reaction out of her although not the one she was hoping for. She grimaces like she has been slapped and buries her face into her arms.

“I’m so sorry, Katara. I really-”

“Toph, stop. It’s fine. Aang and I-” she pauses. How does she say outloud the thing she has been scared to admit for the past few months? She was barely able to say it to Aang and she definitely didn’t think she would be able to say it again. She looks at Toph and asks the question that has been plaguing her for years. “Did you leave because of him? Because of us?”

Toph doesn’t move her head for a moment, but when she finally does lift up, her eyes are bloodshot with the attempt at holding back tears and her lower lip is trembling just slightly. She doesn’t have to say anything to know that it was the reason.

“I kissed him at your wedding… during the reception, that’s why I left,” her voice is low and thick with emotion. Katara expects to feel something- heartache or devastation- at her confession, but she doesn’t feel anything.

“Something told me that it was because of us that you left. Whenever I brought it up to Aang, he would go quiet and get this look on his face,” she pauses for a moment, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Toph’s eyes flicker over to her and land just over her shoulder, “What would you have wanted me to say? ‘Hey, I’m in love with Aang and I would appreciate it if you guys didn’t get married?’ I know I’m blunt, but I’m not fucking heartless.”

“No, I mean-” she isn’t sure what she means, “Why didn’t you tell me you loved him?”

Toph drops her eyes and rests her chin on her arms and shrugs, “I don’t know. I didn’t realize it until it was too late, until you guys were-” she gestures with her hand. Katara nods in understanding.

“Well, you can tell me now.”

Toph laughs a humorless laugh and clambers off the bed and walks to the window, shaking her head as she goes.

--------------------

Standing at the window, she can feel the early morning breeze on her face and she closes her eyes and breathes deeply. This is the last conversation she wants to have and the absolute last person she wants to have said conversation with.

“Toph,” Katara says moving off the bed and going to stand beside her, “Talk to me.”

Swallowing hard, Toph takes a deep breath and turns to face Katara. She doesn’t even know where to begin. She so badly wants to explain herself, to somehow apologize and make up for what she has done. Katara says that she doesn’t blame her, but if the roles were switched, Toph doesn't think she would be so forgiving.

“Tell me how this happened, I want to know.”

“What?”

“I want to know everything. You left because of us, you left everything because of us. I want to know what all happened,” Katara says earnestly.

“I don’t know, Katara,” she yells suddenly. “I don’t know what you’re wanting me to say. You want to hear about how I fell in love with him, how we had sex when you two broke up?” She can feel Katara flinch, but she can’t stop now, “Or how about the time I kissed him after you two said your vows?! How I kissed him yesterday and almost had sex with him less than 12 hours ago! Is that what you want, Katara? How, after all this time, he is still my biggest fucking weakness.”

Katara doesn’t say anything for a moment but closes her eyes as she digests all of this. After a moment, she opens them again and finds Toph staring in her direction, anger written all over her face, but also, she can see a little bit of fear hidden beneath.

“Toph, I know you’re just trying to get a reaction out of me, but I already told you, I don’t blame you.”

“Why not? It’s my fault!” She yells at her.

“No, it’s no one’s fault, Toph. Sometimes, things just don’t work out. We can do everything right, but something still goes wrong and this just happens to be one of those times,” she steps closer to her and places a hand on her shoulder. Toph’s shoulder jerks a little at the contact, but almost instantly, Toph melts and reaches out for Katara and pulls her into a hug.

“I’m so sorry, Katara.”

--------------------

A few hours later, no one would ever know that 3 peoples worlds had shattered early that morning. The Palace continues on with its preparations for the party, maids and decorators going to and from places.

Katara and Toph were still sitting in her room discussing every thing that had happened between her and Aang, the reason she had left, how she had tried to stay away from him, but there was just something about him that kept drawing her back. Katara had listened with unwavering focus, only stopping Toph every now and then to ask a question or for clarification.

At the end, Toph felt immensely better having told someone everything and Katara felt like she finally understood everything. The few months her and Aang had broken up, the way Toph would avoid her afterwards, the wedding, her disappearance, everything. And even still, she could not find the anger in herself to blame either of them.

The two of them, together, walked to breakfast in the great hall, and of course, Aang was nowhere in sight. Just as well, Toph didn’t think she could handle that just yet. Together they sat down and ate breakfast together. It was nice being able to talk to her without the guilt of what she had done pressing down on her.

Read the full story on Archiveofourown.com

#taang #taangst #aangst #angst #toph beifong #aang #avatar the last airbender #if i lose him like this #atla #writing

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diavohno · 5 years ago

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Can i request 43 + lucifer?

note; hope yall didn’t think I’d forgotten you! I’m going to finish these requests, no doubt about it :) anyway, I hope you enjoy this little scene because I had a blast writing it. it’s clocking in at 1.2k words, which is a pretty solid amount

“Wait a minute... are you jealous?” + Lucifer

x + x +

“Thanks, MC, you’re the best!” said Iros, a red-haired demon from your Summoning 101 class who always seemed to have a difficult time paying attention during instruction. More than once, you’d caught her doing the tell-tale head bob as if she was fighting a magnetic pull between her forehead and her desk, so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that her grades weren’t looking too hot. She sent you a wink before twirling away, her uniform skirt fanning out behind her. In an afterthought, she called out to you over her shoulder, “See you for our study date!”

With that, she disappeared into the steady stream of students drifting from one class to another. You couldn’t help the sigh that puffed out through your noseー there was something about her that drained you. Maybe it was her ability? You’ve gathered that all demons have something about them that separates them from other demons, like how Mammon was exceptionally fast.

Speaking of, the grubby bastard was late. The two of you typically walked to History of Devildom together, but he seemed to be running behind schedule today.

Who are you kidding, he probably ditched again. You’d have to scold him for not taking you with him later. For now, you’ll continue to be the good student that you weren’t and go to class by yourself. Your husbando (who wasn’t yet your husbando but you’ve been working diligently on changing that), Lucifer, would be so proud of you, you mused, mentally patting yourself on the back for your decision to do the bare minimum.

“I am not opposed to your fraternizing with the other students, but I must discourage you from forming relationships with succubi.” Speak of the devil! Lucifer’s voice cut through the muddled conversations of the passing students as the man himself emerged from a nearby classroom. “I cannot even begin to fathom the numbers of succubi who would use you as nothing more than a stepping stone to tarnish Lord Diavolo’s reputation.”

“Succubi?” you hummed, more to yourself than anything as you ponder his words. “That explains why she’s always hitting on me. Damn. Here I thought I was just an irresistible slab of meat, charming the pants off of strangers left and right.”

The slab of meat comment earned you a disdainful eye roll, but nothing more. “Well? You’re going to arrive after the start of class if you continue to stand there like a mindless sheep.”

“I know I called myself meat, but the ‘sheep’ thing doesn’t sit right with me, especially coming from you,” you said with a hint of a whine laced in your tone. Nonetheless, you set off toward your next class by your lonesome, only for Lucifer to stride along next to you.

Instantly, the wheels in your head took off spinning. You knew for a FACT that whatever class he had was in the opposite direction, as you and Mammon often passed him in the halls, so what was he doing in this direction? Was he making sure you weren’t going to ditch? You’d take offense to the idea if it wasn’t something you’ve already done. After that one idea, your mind drew a blank.

Peeking at him out of the corner of your eye, you noticed how he seemed to be somewhat lost in thought, but not lost enough for him to miss where your attention was directed. He raised a dark brow at you, daring you to say something.

Never one to miss such a golden opportunity, you gave a saccharine smile and batted your lashes innocently. “Sorry, it’s hard not to stare at works of art.”

He blinked once. Twice. Then turned away. Your lips perked out in a pout at the fact that your obvious flirtation had failed to garner any response, although this would do little to dissuade you in the future; every now and then you swore you’d see the corners of his lips twitch up into a ghost of a smile.

Anyway, back to the drawing board. Why was it that Lucifer was accompanying you to your class? You’d better figure it out sooner than later because the two of you were turning down the hall that housed your classroom. Luckily, yours was on the other end.

Asking him would be no fun at all, so that was quickly ruled out as an option, and so was dismissing the noticeably odd behavior. Had he finally realized his everlasting love for you, and was currently mentally preparing himself to propose? A quick glance to you right quickly eliminated that theory. Then, what was it?

Every step brought you closer to your destination, as well as added a tiny piece of disappointment to your ever-growing pile. Before you had the chance to prematurely sink into a slump of self-pity, your D.D.D. buzzed in your skirt pocket to notify you that you had received a message over chat.

It turned out to be a message from Iros. You should wear something nice when we meet up tonight. It’ll help me study better ;) Just reading it makes you snort in indignation.

You wish. As much of a shameless flirt as you could be, you couldn’t handle being on the receiving end of flirting. It most definitely didn’t have anything to do with the fact that your heart had locked its sights on a certain Tall, Dark, and Prideful who didn’t reciprocate your feelings. Subconsciously, your gaze drifted back toward Lucifer for what felt like the millionth time throughout this heartwarming little couple’s stroll. Oddly enough, he was fixing your D.D.D. with a steely glare.

“Uh, Lucy?” you asked slowly. No doubt about it, the man was acting weird. Maybe he had gotten food poisoning? That must be it! “Is something the matter?”

“I was unaware you and this succubi had gotten so close to one another,” he said, venom oozing from his voice. The spinning wheels in your head that had been working so tirelessly for the entirety of the past few minutes come to a screeching halt.

“Wait a minute…” How had you not seen it sooner? The answer was obvious. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head at the ludicrous thought. ”Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped back instantly, but there was a certain look in his eye that made you sure he was lying. Your mouth curled into a cattish smirk as the two of you slowed to a stop outside of your classroom. It would seem that all of your flirting and waiting was finally paying off.

“Of course, of course,” you said, a melodic lilt woven into your words. With a sudden burst of courage that was even stronger than Beel, you took one of Lucifer’s gloved hands into your own and pressed a chaste kiss to it. Adrenaline pumping, you then flounced away as if you hadn’t just given THE Lucifer a good ol’ smack of your lips on his hand.

As expected, Lucifer lowly called out your name, subtly warning you to not walk away from him or else you’d be punished. How unlucky for him that the thought of him punishing you sent a shiver of pleasure along your spine. Looks like you’d have to let Iros know you wouldn’t be able to study after all, as you'd have your hands full with a certain irate demon.

You could hardly wait.

#obey me #obey me: shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #swd lucifer #swd obey me #request

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bibliocratic · 5 years ago

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i found writing proposal fic really fun !! or wedding planning :) maybe u would also find that fun? x

jonmartin post-160 proposal fic

Jon tries to write vows.

Hunched over, crow-spined and squinting in the feeble cast of the firelight, he scribbles, mutters, scratches out, furrows his brow and clenches his fingers and snarls under his breath in irritation, at his fumbling incapacity for words. He was not born with a poetic soul, and his admiration for Martin's humble offerings grows each passing minute. His words sputter out of him with all the ease of water from a broken tap.

Jon has taken first watch, and it's a duty he approaches solemnly. They've broken into a boarded-up hairdressers, set up their sleeping bags and meagre provisions and the small fire in a waste-paper bin for warmth in the cramped office space at the back. Every noise, creak and snap and distant shriek has Jon straightening, widening the circle of his Knowing like a fishing net, giving it an exhausted push outwards that gets harder each time. The lawless world they are in has at least one advantage; nothing but the most fool-hardy of things wants to touch the architect of this nether-world of horrors, nothing skulking or spiralling or swooping wants to challenge an unfettered Avatar. It's more people, these days, that they have learned to avoid.

Martin twitches in his sleep. Sleeping bag pulled up over his face, head pillowed by folded-over barber capes, his body snug against but turned away from Jon, who is sitting up, his back supported by plastic wrapped boxes of industrial-size shampoos and hair rollers. Jon frowns again, his lines only deepening as he listens to the soft, undisturbed in and out of Martin's breathing. Because he wants to get this one right. To place words like mosaic tiles to create the imagery of his intention, to capture everything he feels he needs to say.

Martin deserves this. Jon can give him so few words, these days. Jon wants to give him ones that will mean something.

His impatience is one of the few things that the last few years hasn't chewed out of him. He huffs, irritable and discontent, his frustration leaden under his skin, and scrunches up another paper to sacrifice to his petty mood.

When Martin takes the next watch, he finds a nest of fire-scourged paper balls dying in the embers.

–

Jon tries to find rings.

His intention is to be a few minutes. He unpeels himself around dawn from Martin's heavy arms, gently shushing the unhappy noise this draws from his mouth. The jewellers is ten minutes from where they've holed up today, and Jon steals away guiltily, keeping his Eye on Martin long after he's left to make sure he doesn't wake up to find him gone.

Jon is away too long. He reaches the small, high-street shop with no issue, doesn't even need to pick the shattered lock of the door. Inside, he finds a scatter of rings and necklaces, but they're all soot-charred, twisted from an unnatural heat, their metals warped irreparable. And then there is something tooth-filled in the recesses of the jewellers, something that smells the human stench of him and feels hungry, and it takes Jon an hour to give it the slip, leading it into a fog-bank half a mile away to be subsumed by the greedy pull of the mist.

He Looks out of himself, and against the borders of him, he feels a blanketing heat-shimmer of terror and knows it isn't his own.

His long legs take the streets at a run, huffing as he reaches the grey-stone public square at the centre of the city, exposed and empty of people. Getting nearer, he hears a looping, repetitive nightingale whistle, low and plaintive. It stops, waits, and starts up again.

Jon, with perfect mimicry, makes the high harsh caw of a crow in reply.

Martin is standing at the door of the Wagamama's they broke into, his feet unshod by shoes, his hair uncombed and flattened at one side. The creep of dawn is not so faint that Jon can't see the pale wash of his face, the tightness of his jaw, the relief that cascades across it like the release of a dammed-up waterfall when he sees Jon haring his way across the vacant, space of the square to greet him.

“Where were you?” Martin demands even before he reaches him. His hands running over him as soon as Jon gets close enough, checking for hurt, injury, his voice high and pitchy and failing to translate his panic into something else. “God, I woke up, and – don't do that Jon! Anything could've – I had no idea where you'd – and what the hell were you thinking?”

Jon's hands motion, miserably, desperate to soothe and knowing it can't be that easy, sorry, sorry, sorry.

“Where did you go?” Martin repeats, insistent, almost angry but forcing it down to simmer at a panic-laced frustration. He doesn't usually push, usually recognises the limits of what Jon can communicate, allows them both space to sit down with paper and pencil and is patient with the slower exchange of this. But his shirt is coated with sweat around the throat and arms, his hands curling into fists to stop their juddering, nerve-shocked motions, and Jon tries to imagine how he would feel, should he wake up, and find Martin gone.

He pauses before opening his mouth.

“Looking for something,” he says carefully with a stolen clear-cut pronunciation, bathed in an entitled, self-absorbed air. Rifles through his records, despairing to find no words that he can chop-and-change together like a collage of explanation, glances up at Martin's distressed expression.

“Did you find it?”

Jon shakes his head.

“I feel like an idiot,” he tries again in a pleasant, justifying voice, and wishes someone had put to records some better expression of apology. Wishes someone had used the right words in the appropriate manner; stronger still, wishes his voice was his own again, a domain he could claim unsullied by the burden of his title. That he could say something, anything to wipe the blanket fear from Martin's scruffy face.

“Yeah, well,” Martin grumbles after a while, wiping at his eyes. “I knew that already.”

Sorry, Jon signs again, but Martin is stilling his hands, gentle even now, and bundles him into a tight, bone-squeeze of a hug.

“Don't do that to me again, Jon, please,” he whispers shakily.

Jon doesn't try and find rings again.

–

Jon tries to plan a proposal.

He knows, deep down, that the best intentioned version of himself is a planner. Likes order and alphabetized files and organisational stationery, is happiest with a well-crafted spreadsheet or a completed to-do list. Jonathan Sims is a man easily satisfied by things as they should be, appeased and engaged by the challenge of a logical puzzle, a knotty problem he can sort by analysis and application.

He also knows that there is another version of himself. The one that rashly takes an axe to possessed tables and jumps into fog-bound seascapes and soil-choked coffins after the people he loves.

He does try. He thinks of picturesque spots he can take Martin, places where the scenery isn't so horror-fucked, where there are still banks from which they can watch sunsets. But the picturesque spots, when they aren't shadow-infested or crawling with overzealous fungal growths that warn of Corruption nearby, are chilly, and there's not exactly time to stop and admire the views much anyway. The sunset-stained bank is a near success; drought-scoured and pocked with frost-damage, but the evening colours are unashamedly glorious. Jon spends hours trying to muster the courage and words and correct gestures, only for Martin, drained and wiped out from a run-in with the Flesh, to fall asleep on Jon's shoulder, his hair flopping over his face, a comforting dead-weight. Jon adjusts them carefully so Martin's head is cushioned against his thigh, and scratches his fingers soothingly through his hair as he watches the sunset alone.

But one day they're making their way through the Peak District, and they've found a tumbling river with a small waterfall. Martin's flicked water at him with a butter-wouldn't-melt smile, and Jon replied in kind, and Martin had made a shrieking giggling scandalised 'Jon!' as he continued splashing him. And it might have been the way the water dripped down his face and over his freckles, or the way the dim daylight caught his profile, or it might have been the bold and untempered heat that burnt like a forge in Jon's chest to hear the high, bright sound of his rare happiness, but whatever it was, the other version of Jon resurfaces. Decides that he doesn't need romantic scenery or rings or vows or other people's words in his mouth, that life is short and this can't wait and he wants this, wants Martin, more than anything.

First, he drags Martin to him. On his tiptoes, arms locked around shoulders, feeling Martin hum, surprised but pleased as he kisses him.

It is a good kiss. One of his best. Jon feels a little bit smug about it when they separate and Martin is slightly out of breath, a comet-streak of heat across his face, looking a bit struck at Jon's forwardness.

Jon seals his first kiss with a second, smaller, softer kiss, making sure Martin's looking at him.

Then he lowers himself onto one knee.

“Jon, what are you – ?” Martin asks, his face creasing with confusion. But Jon has chosen the most unsubtle non-verbal gesture he can, and refuses to look away from him, gazing up and waiting for the penny to drop, even as his knees complain on the hard rocky ground, even as his own doubts swarm that Martin won't understand, Martin won't want to, Martin might say no.

Martin gives a little sucked-in gasp.

“Jon, are you, are you asking...?”

Jon is nodding, almost feverish, and Martin's face has gone the colour of a vibrant sunrise, moisture welling up in his eyes. Jon reaches out, takes one of Martin's hands in his smaller hold, touches with the pad of his thumb the space where, if he could, he would have slotted a ring.

He lets go and precisely and delicately, he signs I love you. They don't have the vocabulary for grander expressions, but Jon doesn't have anything else he needs to say anyway.

“Jon, you – god, I love you,” Martin replies, damp-voiced and faint, a broad and beaming smile widening across and lighting up his face. There's not a pause before he's eagerly going to his knees to join Jon, pressing fierce, hopelessly charmed kisses against his lips, cradling his face in his hands, and Jon's so dazed by the onslaught, it takes him a minute to sign Yes? at Martin.

“I – oh, yeah, yeah! Of course, yes,” Martin replies, still struck by a thoughtless delighted giddiness.

Then: “Oh! Oh, oh, wait just a minute I – ”

He's digging his hands into his left trouser-pocket, tugging it out, pressing what he's found into Jon's hands.

Jon opens the travel-knocked, slightly cracked box to see two unpolished plain bands sat snugly in their display, and his own smile blossoms like a firework on his face.

send me prompts if you fancy!

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #prompt fill #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #there was a happier comedy version of this in there somewhere #but other and more skilled writers than try for that

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eury--dice · 4 years ago

Text

history, huh?

chapter one: principium

(or: the Red, White, and Royal Blue TRC AU, but no knowledge of the book is needed to read this! ao3 link in the rb)

Adam knew he was in trouble when he found himself covered in cake, champagne, and shattered glass while clutching onto someone’s sleeve.

Admittedly, the memory of the night as a whole is a bit fuzzy around the edges, softened by jet lag and overwhelming anger and a few flutes of champagne worth more than the house Adam grew up in. But he remembered enough to recall some key details: one, it was no ordinary reception, it was the royal wedding; two, the cake covering him was the 75,000-dollar royal wedding cake; and three, that he clutched onto His Royal Highness, Prince Ronan Lynch-Mountchristen-Windsor, while covered in the remnants of his champagne flute.

It was an international relations nightmare that a rational Adam Parrish, the first son of the United States, would pay to avoid at all costs. Even the slightly-inebriated Adam could feel a distant spark of fear over what Maura and Calla were going to say to him once he was not covered in frosting and brawling with a treasured member of the English monarchy. (Well, “treasured” was a relative term. Prince Ronan was more of a recently-reformed scandal than a treasure.)

But as he caught a glimpse of Blue’s expression, a carefully constructed mask of surprise for the cameras that only those who knew her personally could read the amusement behind, Gansey’s hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked Adam off of the ground.

He must have abandoned his conversation with Roger Malory to come and bail Adam out; deep down, beyond the adrenaline and anger and alcohol pumping through his veins, Adam was touched at the gesture. Guilt also hit him with the knowledge that Gansey hadn’t had a chance to talk to Malory since he left England as a teenager and now Adam had ruined that, but he tucked it away to examine at a later moment.

Adam thought he might have heard Ronan mutter “Oh my fucking Christ” from somewhere behind him in his stupid posh accent. Slinging an arm around Adam’s frosting-coated shoulders to steer him towards the Secret Service Agents already surging forward, Gansey leaned his head towards Adam’s and whispered around a smile, “What the fresh hell did you do?”

And, well. It was a good question. He glanced back at Ronan where he lay on the ground, already brushing off the help of the royal guards and climbing gracefully to his feet, the bead of blood on his cheek sparkling in the majestic royal lighting. Just a few minutes before, the Prince had stood by himself, a dark contrast to the pristine tiered cake and tiny buttercream flowers and gleaming champagne fountain behind him. And Adam, who was rarely angry over anything but could easily go too far when provoked, decided to engage.

“If it isn’t His Royal Highness,” Adam had said, drawing Ronan’s eyes to him. He could see the moment Ronan realized he wasn’t himself, taking in the curled hand and slightly flushed cheeks. Adam was a convincingly sober drunk, and something about Ronan being able to see through it pissed him off. And the fact that Ronan had spent more than half the night hiding away from the cameras and drinking himself didn’t help. Adam would’ve expected to find him dead on his feet and barely standing, but clearly Ronan was less of a lightweight than he was.

Ronan’s lips curled in what might have passed as a smile but looked a little too much like a predator baring its teeth. “Mr. Parrish,” he said, all clipped vowels and stiff politeness that made Adam want to scream. His lips lingered on the ‘h’ shape for a moment too long. “I’m surprised you’re speaking to me.”

Honesty was the last thing Adam had expected. “Why, because you monopolized Blue and treated her like some kind of...toy to ignore?”

His nostrils flared suddenly. “No, I do not... use people. But you have been avoiding me all evening when I’ve done my best to be civil.”

Adam laughed too loudly at that. “Civil? Yeah, okay,” he said, his mouth curved into a smile. “Most civil member of your family, I’m sure. Declan and Ashley would agree.”

Ronan went silent, swirling his champagne around in his hand and raising an uncoordinated hand to run over his shaved head. When he spoke, he grit his jaw as though holding back some impulse like the good repressed English boy he was. “I’d suggest you to go drink some water and find your way out before you do something you regret.”

“Or what?”

Ronan stepped closer to Adam so that they were nearly chest-to-chest, his two-inch height advantage only pissing Adam off more. “I said I’d advise you to stop.”

And Ronan, so subtly that he doubted any camera could pick it up, pushed Adam away with one hand. It would have worked splendidly had Adam not back-tracked and grabbed Ronan’s sleeve, sending them both falling.

And now they were both covered in frosted roses and shame, Adam stuck with Gansey’s voice on the plane saying please table your rivalry for one night reverberating in his head.

What the fresh hell, indeed.

***

Silence hung over the West Wing briefing room like a wet blanket. Maura Sargent stared unblinkingly into Adam’s eyes from where she perched on the edge of the table. Adam, from his seat at the head, stared back with every ounce of courage his mother’s PR campaigns taught him. Maura seemed to be studying him, and Adam simply didn’t know how to look away.

“Blue,” Maura said finally. On Maura’s other side, Blue wordlessly handed over a stack of newspapers, her gaze shifting from Maura to Adam as though watching a ping pong tournament. Adam knew of Maura’s “no restrictions” policy at home with Blue, but everyone knew this policy in no way related to her work life. Still, Blue watched attentively with knitted brows as though trying to guess the outcome or will a better one into existence.

“Gansey?” Maura asked, all without removing her eyes from Adam’s. The touch of anxiety in Blue’s expression didn’t even begin to reach the anxiety in Gansey’s face, as he stared at Adam like he was a lost puppy. Still, Gansey had more poise than most politicians did, and he managed to smoothly relinquish a stack of magazines into Maura’s free hand. Maura combined the stacks into one in her right hand before dropping them into Adam’s lap with a dull thwap.

“These are just the ones being sold outside this morning, not to mention what’s circulating in the British tabloids,” she said, finally turning away and reaching for a mug of coffee. “Read them.” She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like Jesus, but Adam didn’t try to discern it. He went for the stack instead, glossy pages almost slipping through his thin fingers.

THE $75,000 STUMBLE greeted him on the front page of The Washington Post.

BATTLE ROYAL: Prince Ronan and FSOTUS Come To Blows at Royal Wedding

CAKEGATE: Adam Parrish Sparks Second English-American War

Everywhere he flipped, images of he and Ronan covered in sparkling broken glass and frosting assaulted his eyes. The images and headlines blurred together, and he flicked his gaze back up to Maura. All he could see for a moment was Ronan’s rumpled suit and the sliver of red on his cheek. He blinked three times in rapid succession and Maura returned, her brown eyes cool and calculating over the rim of her travel mug.

“Isn’t this a topic for the Situation Room, Ms. Sargent?” He asked. His mother, seated across from him, and Blue both pursed their lips, although for entirely different reasons; Blue appeared to be holding back laughter while his mother must have been holding back something else. Maura narrowed her eyes, oblivious to Gansey’s tightening expression behind her.

“Don’t Ms. Sargent me,” she replied, her tone cool. “I knew all your secrets, kid. I’ve been watching you since you were five. The sass will get you nowhere.” She snatched the Sun article from out of his hands, flipping it open to the correct page and hiding Ronan’s buttercream-smeared frown behind her fingers. “‘Sources inside the royal reception report the two were seen arguing minutes before the cake-tastrophe. But royal family insiders claim the First Son’s feud with Ronan has raged for years. A source tells The Sun that Ronan and the First Son have been at odds ever since their first meeting at the Rio Olympics--’” here Adam made an odd, strangled noise -- “‘and the animosity has only grown—these days, they can’t even be in the same room with each other. It seems it was only a matter of time before Adam took the American approach: a violent altercation.’”

Adam locked eyes with Gansey at the last line, watching Gansey’s lips thin just as he felt the blood drain from his own face. His eyes slid over to Blue, who yielded much of the same reaction. His mother, surprisingly, didn’t change her posture. If she was thinking of Robert Parrish like the rest of them, she had a better poker face.

“They’re blaming this on Ana’s administration,” Maura continued, pushing on through the stony silence. “Please, explain the joke to me.”

“He started it,” is all Adam was able to say, which was probably one of the worst ways to defend himself. Sounding like a petulant toddler helped nobody, but he had made his bed and so he would lie in it, too. “He shoved me and I grabbed his sleeve to-”

“Adam,” his mother said, raising one hand to cut him off with the smooth, brown skin of her palm. He quieted at once, recognizing her demeanor as half-presidential and half motherly. Ana’s voice was caught somewhere between the sugary drawl that lulled him to sleep as a child and the All-American southern twang that helped win her an election. “You know I trust you, sweetheart, but the press sure as hell doesn’t give a fuck about the nitty-gritty of who started what.”

“Ronan definitely touched him first,” Gansey said, his voice unhurried but his face clearly eager to shift some of the blame off of Adam. Maura shot a cool look in his direction.

“He-said, she-said, that doesn’t matter. The press thinks and we can’t change their mind, we can only prove them wrong.” She held out a hand again, and with a sigh Blue acquiesced a new, thick file. Maura dropped it in front of Adam like a hot potato. “Here’s damage control. This rivalry with the prince of England ends now.”

“It’s not a-”

“Rivalry, we know,” his mother interrupted wryly. The tone was odd from her president-mode self, her wayward curls tamed into a perfect ponytail and her face made up instead of the more casual expression she normally had when joking. “But, sugar, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck. You can call it whatever you like, but it’s always gonna be seen as a rivalry.”

Adam sat silently, flipping through a section entitled TERMS OF AGREEMENT. Maura continued. “You’re flying to England on Saturday and spending the weekend with Ronan.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but once they did he couldn’t stop thinking of them. Dread settled just below the surface of Adam’s skin. He looked at his mother. “I’d prefer to fake my death, actually. Or just really die. I know Calla would be willing to help with either, and Persephone is good with that stuff, right? Death of a son should boost your polling. The voters love a sympathetic case.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she warned. She looked to her watch with a heavy sigh and leaned over to kiss him on the head. “I’m too overscheduled for this. Adam, listen to Maura and don’t ignore her plan. You two,” she gestured vaguely at Blue and Gansey, “Make sure he doesn’t do anything irrational while we’re wrapped up.”

Blue lazily saluted while Gansey nodded reassuringly. With one last glance at Adam, Ana was gone, her heels clicking away from the heavy doors. She slipped away from being Ana Parrish, Adam’s mother punishing him for stupid behavior, to become President Parrish, leader of the country. Adam envied her compartmentalization.

Maura leaned over the table, flipping pages in the file. “We’re releasing this statement in conjunction with the Crown as soon as they approve. It was an accident, no harm was intended, all that jazz-”

Adam lifted one eyebrow. “So the truth?”

“Call it what you’d like. And we’re clarifying that you and Prince Ronan have been close personal friendships for several years despite conflicts in schedule making it difficult to appear publicly.”

Blue laughed out loud at that, clamping one hand over her mouth. Maura didn’t even look over to her, but Adam’s expression must have been similarly dumbfounded because she sighed resignedly, taking another sip of coffee. “Look, it’s better for all sides if your tussle just looks like some...frat boy joshing.” Blue’s laughs crescendoed louder, and Maura shot her a cool look. “If you need to step out, please feel free to, Blue. I’m sure Gansey will fill you in later.” Adam looked to Blue and her wave of dismissal, gripping onto the wrist of Gansey’s blazer to steady herself. Maura turned back to Adam.

“I know he’s difficult. You can hate him for all I care. In privacy, feel free to construct intricate arguments for his removal from this earth. Fantasize about dumping yogurt on his head. Compose songs to drive him insane. But, for the love of God, you will act like he hung the moon with nothing but yarn and a sewing needle whenever there’s the slimmest possibility of a camera or another living being witnessing it. Kapeesh?”

It wasn’t like he was allowed any true reaction, but he nodded all the same. His powerlessness was because of his own actions, not Maura. It was his own fault, and he would own up to the consequences. Even if the thought of willingly spending time with Ronan made his stomach turn.

“Your job is to not piss anyone off and to gush about Ronan. You’ll memorize this fact sheet-” she slid another page from the file and tapped it, “-and be prepared to answer any question with these as an answer. Your deal includes a minimum of two social media posts a day about Ronan and your visit. On Sunday, you have an on-air interview with ITV This Morning, and you’ll be fresh as a daisy with nothing but sunshine to say about Ronan’s competitive yachting hobby. There are only two photo ops, one in private where you can bitch and one charity appearance. That’s it, you’re free.”

Adam opened his mouth.

“Don’t care,” Maura said before Adam could make a noise. “You ruined the Royal Wedding and a cake that’s worth a year of college tuition. He’ll attend a state dinner in a few months for his part, and you will pay your penance now.”

Adam nodded slowly. He gathered the file in his hands along with all the decorum Gansey taught him over the years. He smiled a small smile at Maura. “Well, it will be an experience, won’t it?”

“I’d expect it, yes.”

“Thank you, Maura. And I’m sorry.”

She waved her hand. “Don’t apologize. Your apology will be not screwing this up even more.”

“I’ll try.”

Adam rose, Blue and Gansey following his lead. As he turned to walk away, Maura spoke again. “Oh, and Adam?”

“Yes?”

The corners of her eyes crinkled, and she looked younger, somehow. Almost amused. Guilt panged in his chest at the thought that he’d caused the tiredness on her face before. “Try to have a little fun. It’s a trip to Europe and you’re not even missing class.”

He paused, thinking of Ronan and his shaved head and cruel smile in front of the wedding cake. He tried to imagine what fun might be for him - whether to trust the fact sheet proclaiming fencing and yachting as Ronan’s pastimes or the tabloids that traded stories of illegal drag racing and getting black-out drunk. He wasn’t sure which version of Ronan sounded worse. “Sure,” he agreed quietly. “I will.”

***

Those who work in the White House know a few things about the First Family’s habits, but they never know the full truth.

They can observe things the average citizen would die to know; they see staffers pacing the halls and tearing their hair out over Instagram captions, overhear expletive-laden and fond familial conversations, and occasionally see the pristine members of the executive branch with dark crescents burning under their eyes and old high-school sweatshirts adorned like the newest fashion. But none were more elusive and two-sided than the White House Trio.

In their case, two-sided didn’t necessarily mean something bad, only something drastic. Blue Sargent, Richard Gansey, and Adam Parrish presented the perfect dynamic for the press to eat up: three attractive early twenty-somethings inside the White House who were notoriously open to the public about their lives. There were veneers crafted and stories concocted every day, all designed to get the perfect media response without sharing too much. There was Blue, the Indigenous American daughter of a single mother and prominent staffer, barely five feet tall but laser-sharp with any numbers you threw at her; there was Richard Campbell Gansey III, better known as the single-named Gansey who came from the billions that funded the Vice-Presidency but wanted nothing more than to give it all away, always ready with his winning charm and a new polo shirt to distract the press from his scathing op-eds; and there was Adam Parrish, a true American Dream born from a father from the Heartland and a mother from Mexican immigrants, a single First Son set to graduate valedictorian from Georgetown amid a political campaign with an ease most of the country only wished to possess.

Together, they hit every demographic that they could without even trying too hard. Their progressive politics were helped along by their identities, and so they aided their parents by nature of existing within the White House walls. White House staff saw these versions of them, but only glimpses of what lay beneath - Blue wandering the halls in self-created shirts and dresses with stacks of newspapers clutched in her arms, the scent of mint clinging to Gansey everywhere he went at all hours of the day, Adam’s frequent requests for coffee at midnight and propensity to wear coca-cola tee shirts.

They all knew very well that no one really saw the full picture of them, but that was how the White House Trio liked it.

The three of them spread out in the music room, one of their only haunts where they could be truly alone. For once, they weren’t a marketing ploy of their own creation or a group of kids on a pedestal; they were just Blue, Gansey, and Adam. After that meeting, they had to be.

Adam sprawled on the couch, laying exactly horizontal, flipping over the HRH fact sheet.

“You’re on the cover of Us Weekly, Blue,” Gansey called across the room, undoubtedly fulfilling his guilty-pleasure hobby of obsessively tracking their tabloids. “Full portrait of your Royal Wedding outfit.”

“It’s about time,” she responded from her perch on the windowsill, a bottle of red wine and a bottle opener in her hands. “I wore that lace to catch attention, thank you very much. It’s been at least four months since a solo cover.”

“Well, they do mention the cake-tastrophe in the corner.”

Blue waved her hand dismissively. “That was bound to happen. Scandal sells, but so do I.”

“Okay, ew,” Adam said flatly.

“They’re speculating about you two again, you know.” Gansey scrolled to a new part of the magazine, lifting a thumb to rub against his lower lip. “‘Tryst with a mystery brunette: Heartthrob First Son Adam Parrish caught sneaking back to the W hotel for an amorous rendezvous in the Presidential Suite. Sources say the brunette is none other than Blue Sargent, the twenty-two-year-old member of the White House Trio.’”

“Less than a month!” Blue exclaimed, popping the wine open. “You owe me, Gansey. Pay up.”

He ignored her, dropping the hand from his face. “You didn’t really…”

Neither Adam nor Blue responded. Gansey knew very well that their short-lived relationship on the campaign trail was due to die a quick death, but something - perhaps the lingering stares he seemed to throw Blue more and more often - was making him touchier to the subject of their former relationship. Of course, Adam and Blue did nothing of the sort, only watched the West Wing and made sex noises at young Rob Lowe with a bottle of champagne passed between them. Confusing the tabloids was an added bonus to their game. Blue took a swig directly from the bottle of red.

“You’d think they’d be talking more about your spat with Ronan than your possible sex life,” Gansey said, returning his focus to Adam. Adam finally looked away from the HRH fact sheet and towards Gansey’s squinting eyes. He really needed to put his glasses on, but far be it from Adam to mother Gansey. It had to be the other way around.

“No one cares about what happens over the pond.”

“Don’t they?” Blue said, scrunching her nose in a similar fashion to Gansey. “They seem to follow the royals pretty well. Tabloids were in a tizzy over the Prince’s lack of date.”

“In a tizzy,” Adam mocked. From where she sat on the floor, Blue stretched her short frame as far as possible to nudge Adam’s leg with the toe of her socked foot. “Why does anyone care? It’s not like he’s, you know, interesting.”

Blue and Gansey were staring again, he could tell. “Adam, honey,” Blue started, her southern accent heavy and thick. Gansey reached for the bottle and she relinquished it easily. “I know you hate him, but he’s probably the most interesting royal out there.”

“Wasn’t he caught in a club with his underage brother right after their father died?” Gansey asked, taking a prim sip from the bottle of wine.

“Apparently has a huge sucker of a tattoo on his back, too.”

“Isn’t that against royal etiquette or some shit?”

“Probably.”

Adam waved the fact sheet around, spinning himself so that his head hung off the edge of the couch. “Explain this, then. He’s more wonder-bread than Gansey, and that’s saying something.” Blue spluttered out a laugh, and Adam slung an upside-down apologetic glance at Gansey. “Sorry, man. No offense.”

“None taken,” Gansey said, reaching for the fact sheet and plucking it from Adam’s grasp. “What’s wrong with these? Charles Dickens as a favorite author? What do you have against Charles Dickens?”

Adam and Blue exchanged a glance. “Nothing in theory. It’s just a bunch of garbage I don’t need in my brain.”

Blue snorted. “No thoughts, brain full of GDP calculations.”

“You know I just finished my macroeconomics midterm.”

“That’s the point,” Blue said, snatching the bottle back from Gansey and peeking at the sheet. Her nose scrunched again, squinting her eyes as she always did when drinking. “Mutton pie? Who loves mutton pie?”

“It’s a very versatile meal,” Gansey defended.

“I mean, sure, these are boring as hell,” Blue conceded, ignoring Gansey’s scandalized look. “But this is clearly slapped together by his PR team to make him look like the perfect prince.”

“So?” Adam said, unimpressed.

“It’s not a reason to hate him.”

“Oh, I know. I hate him anyway. But I have better use for my brain space than facts about His Royal Dick.”

“That just sounds like you’re talking about Gansey.”

“To be fair, Adam,” Gansey said, “it’s your fault. You fought him.”

“What happened anyway?” Blue asked. He knew the question was coming, but all the same, he didn’t want to answer. “He was fine when I danced with him.”

“Fine,” Adam said curtly. “Cold and severe sounds more like it.”

Blue’s eyes scanned over him with an uncanny feeling she could see into his thoughts. “So you were...defending me? God, please don’t blame me for this.”

“That’s actually kind of nice, Parrish.”

“No,” Blue interrupted, a hard edge to her voice.. “Not if he does stupid shit because of it. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“I know!” Adam rushed to say. “Believe me, I know. It was…” he withered under her look. “...An excuse?”

“Look at me,” Blue said, voice firm. He did. Her lips were thinned with seriousness. “Don’t protect my honor again, please. It’s a weird-ass fishbowl world we live in, but if you do, I will leak to the press that your favorite song is Africa by Toto.”

“Please do,” Adam said, scoffing. “It’s a bop.”

“And do you want it dogging your every step?”

“Maybe I do.”

Blue shrugged. “Your funeral.”

“This is quite Shakespearean,” Gansey said, most likely in hopes of interrupting their budding argument. He gestured grandly to the gaudy tapestry-ridden walls and golden tassels on the furniture, although Adam imagined that Gansey thought it would look more impressive in his head. “Two sworn enemies forced into friendship for the sake of tension between their countries.”

“We’re not enemies,” Adam said. “That implies we’re...on the same level. Have actually spoken.”

“Exactly. Shakespearean.”

“Then let’s hope I get stabbed at the end of this. Blue, will you do the honors? I know you’ll do it mercifully.”

“Oh, cheer up now,” Blue said in a false British coo. “You’ll be the darling of England before Sunday even rolls around.”

“What does it matter?” Adam said, not lifting his gaze from the fact sheet. “They just think I’m another violent American over there.”

He could feel the weight of Blue and Gansey’s stares above his head. No one needed to say the words themselves to invoke the double-wide of Adam’s earliest years, where blood covered most of the carpet. “They don’t mean it like that, Adam,” Gansey said finally, breaking some of the tension with his reverberating voice. “They mean it like… UFC fighters, or rioting after the Patriots lose the Super bowl. Or win.” Gansey’s frown deepened. “I can never figure out how they’re doing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Adam said, lips twisted downwards. He regretted bringing it up. “I know.”

Blue nudged him again with her foot. “Want to watch Parks and Rec and make fun of the Prince’s fact cheat-sheet?”

“God, yes.”

She snatched the sheet from Gansey, reading it over again. “Drinking game: drink whenever Prince Ronan’s interests are laughably terrible.”

“Counter-offer: drink whenever Adam overreacts to his interests.” Gansey offered. Blue passed him the bottle to reach for her laptop instead.

“Either way, we’re getting alcohol poisoning.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“We’ll quiz you,” Gansey offered Adam, just as Blue pulled up an episode of Parks and Rec. “Not season seven, Sargent, what the hell are you thinking?”

“Season seven can be great!” Off of Gansey’s glare, Blue complied, clearly not wanting the fight. “Fine. Season three?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Blue balanced her laptop on an old piano bench and joined their huddle near the couch, beckoning the bottle back.

“Alright,” Gansey began, eyes settled on the top of the sheet. “You better be ready to learn something, Parrish.”

***

None of them succumbed to alcohol poisoning, but they did learn several facts about Prince Ronan.

There was the basic information, things Adam knew already: his mother, Queen Aurora, took the throne with a dreamy demeanor and high hopes at the age of 19 after her parent’s untimely death and her twin sister’s abdication. The year before, she married Niall Lynch, an Irish actor, and practically upset the whole place. Niall died in 2015, not too long before the Rio Olympics, and Aurora’s public appearances had dwindled ever since, leaving the press to have a field day with rumors of illness and mental breakdowns. Ronan had a raven (why, Adam could not fathom) named, of all things, Chainsaw. His best friend, Henry Cheng, was heir to Cheng Industries and managed their charity branch.

Gansey actually knew both Cheng and Ronan, having spent a year at Eton in high school, and Adam just rolled his eyes at Ganey’s relentless knowledge of every human person.

His music tastes were listed as baroque, death metal, and Irish jigs, a combination that left Blue wheezing. “His Royal Highness may be my new favorite person,” she insisted, leaving Adam scowling.

The week came and went, and Adam found himself on a private tarmac following a trans-Atlantic flight with a man in an impeccably pressed suit and a cup of tea nestled into his hands. Calla, one of Blue’s pseudo-aunts and a secret service agent accompanying him, pressed forward to shake his hand and exchange a few words under her breath with him. He almost pitied the man. Calla, with her high bun of perfectly-contained curls and steely gaze, oozed intimidation out of her very being. But to his surprise, Calla actually smiled at the mystery man. She wasn’t quite warm, but he received considerably kinder treatment than everyone else subject to Calla’s jurisdiction. When she stepped back, the man turned his gray eyes on Adam. He smiled without any mirth.

“Mr. Parrish,” the man said, reaching out his free hand. Adam shook it, trying to keep it short and firm as his mother taught him. “It’s a pleasure to have you with us in England. I’m Mr. Gray, Prince Ronan’s equerry.”

“It’s very nice to meet you. I apologize for the turn of events that led to this weekend.”

“Well,” Mr. Gray said, turning and beckoning Adam to an Aston Martin with blacked-out windows, “once you reach my age, Mr. Parrish, you’ll find that these matters are quite simple to see coming.” Adam barely had a chance to blink in response before he was sliding into the back seat of the car, the rumbling of the tarmac shut out succinctly with the door’s closure. A lull in conversation settled around them; Adam, after clicking his seatbelt in, favored looking out the window to London’s scenery over making conversation. The blur of grey and white passed for a few minutes before Mr. Gray finally informed him of his role.

“There are a few matters of paperwork to go over before entering Kensington Palace. They’re currently next to you, and signing them is of highest priority before we begin this weekend.” Adam was no stranger to non-disclosure agreements and confidentiality paperwork; he’d expected the practically novel-length stack. By the time he’d finished signing on all the correct lines, the car slowed to a crawl. “Prince Ronan has just finished his tennis practice, and we’re here to escort him to our first activity.”

“Splendid,” Adam whispered under his breath, unconsciously mimicking Mr. Gray's crisp voice.

The English countryside hit Adam full in the face as soon as he stepped from the car; fresh air, the kind you never find in DC, welcomed him like an old friend, and though the English air was nothing like the air he remembered growing up with in Virginia, it felt nostalgic all the same. He suddenly wanted to be back there, in the home he remembered so well. He wanted to be anywhere but England with the goddamn Prince of Wales loping his way towards him in an all-white outfit, a racket swinging in his hand.

Jesus, how pretentious could he be?

Annoyingly, Ronan was not sweating and not fatigued looking in the slightest. He actually looked incredibly refreshed, the harsh lines of his face softened and a flush under his cheeks, his blue eyes charged and alight. Looking into them, Adam felt startlingly as though he was staring out at the horizon on a cloudless day.

“Parrish,” Ronan called, jogging the remaining distance quickly and closing the gap between them. “You've found the directions, I can see.”

“It’s difficult to miss,” Adam replied tightly, holding out a hand for Ronan to shake. “Extensive wealth tends to smell for miles around.”

Ronan took his hand, and his smoothed palm slid uncomfortably against Adam’s calloused hand. An unpleasant jolt started in his stomach. Ronan affixed his same unkind but not terrifying smile to his face, looking ridiculously like Declan for a moment, before continuing their conversation. Both knew to disconnect their words from their faces, conscious of the photographer unsubtly circling them. “It’s a rather pleasant odor, yes? I prefer it to fried food and pollution.”

“London, known for its fresh air, right?” Adam laughed, the charming laugh that beguiled TV hosts and entranced his mother’s constituents. “Excited for the days ahead?”

“I’d rather lie on the NASCAR racetrack, or even concede an argument.”

Adam slipped his palm from Ronan’s, choosing instead to slap him jovially on the arm. “I never thought I’d see the day where we agree on something, Your Highness.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan said, the words slipping through his unkind but certainly camera-friendly smile with practiced ease, and oh, there was the difference between this weekend and all their other interactions: Adam couldn’t speak of their interactions at all, locked behind an NDA. Ronan could swear as much as he pleased and not face retribution from his family.

“Gladly,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“The car is ready if you’re ready, then,” Mr. Gray said from behind Adam.

“Perfect,” Ronan said, any hint of his bleached teeth disappearing. “The sooner this is over with, the better.”

And they set off, side by side, for the car.

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one-boring-person · 4 years ago

Text

Behave Yourself.

Paul (The Lost Boys) x reader

Warnings: some bad language, mild injury, implied/very mild sexual content

Context: The reader works as a security guard on the Boardwalk, and is in a relationship with our favourite Count Fidget, Paul.😁

A/N: I hope to hell my inspiration comes back quickly, as this is already not quite to the standard I wish it was at, but anyhow, I hope it is enjoyable 😅💛💛

Masterlist

Every job has it's perks. Some of them totally out do the cons of a particular job, but some, like mine, have very little influence on how enjoyable the experience is, especially since the job itself can be incredibly energy-draining at times. Any job as a security guard takes a certain knack for not taking anyone's crap, a courage which any good one needs in order to be able to ignore the remarks and jibes from disgruntled people around them, but as a security guard working on the Boardwalk of Santa Carla, it can be very difficult to uphold these standards.

A dull ache has started in my chest from where some Surf Nazi has jabbed me, trying to threaten me into submission after I wouldn't allow him to use the carousel, having recognised him from a few nights before, where he started a brawl amongst a group of young kids, severely injuring one or two. Naturally, I'd taken this in my stride, not rising to the bait despite the rising frustration within me, my hand itching to crack him across the face, a neutral expression remaining in place on my face as I calmly told him to leave. Of course, he couldn't just do as he was told, instead deciding that squaring up with me was the better idea, though I quickly showed him the error of his ways, disabling him in seconds with only a hard prod against my chest being landed by him, sending him on his way with an angry grumble. Internally, I'm glad he hasn't tried to get back at me yet, though I'm well aware my shift has half an hour still to go, which is plenty of time for him still to try.

A pair of arms wrap around my waist, snapping me from my thoughts as a familiar scent envelopes me, alerting me to who my assailant is immediately. Chuckling, I remain standing upright, knowing that if I'm caught being "intimate" with a member of the public whilst on duty, I'll be fired, choosing instead to keep my eyes focused on the busy crowd ahead of me.

"Hey there, hot stuff." Paul greets, pressing a kiss to my cheek as he presses his chest to my back, trying to get a response out of me.

"Hey Mophead." I return, briefly turning my head to give him a swift kiss on the lips, pulling away seconds later so as not to draw attention to us, laughing at his whine of complaint.

"Busy night?" He asks, tightening his grip when I try to unlatch his arms from around me, holding me against his lean yet muscular body with ease.

"So-so. Sleep well?" I confirm, finally managing to pry his arms apart slightly, only to groan when they instantly move to pin mine to my sides.

"So-so." He mimics, the grin on his face almost audible as I wriggle in his grip, trying to escape, "Where're you trying to go?"

"Paul, you know damn well that I'll get in trouble if anyone reports seeing me like this. Let me go!" I playfully scold him, eyeing the crowd dubiously.

"Nah, I like having you in my arms. You're comfortable." He declines, pressing his face into my hair, or rather, trying to, the stupid cap my superiors make me wear getting in the way. He whines a little at this but is quick to remedy it, using his teeth to pull it off and drop it to the floor.

"Hey! Behave yourself! As much as I hate this job sometimes, I'd still like to keep it! Let me go, I promise I'll give you lots of attention later!" I protest, trying to bargain with him, especially when I feel his hands start to wander, "Paul, I swear to god if you even try something innapropriate here, I'll personally bathe you in holy water."

He only chuckles, kissing at my neck in response, his hand moving to untuck my uniform shirt from my belt, icy fingers tracing the skin that he manages to reveal before my own hands have clasped his wrists, having finally gotten free.

"Paul!" I warn him, spotting another guard a little way off, the muscular guy heading in my direction even if he isn't really paying much attention.

"Aww, such a killjoy." The vampire teases, licking a stripe up my neck as he pulls away from me, moving to stand beside me, a smirk on his face as I tidy my uniform up again.

"At least wait until we're somewhere private. You can come over to mine after I finish, if you want?" I offer, adjusting my composure accordingly.

"I'd never say no." Paul grins, winking at me suggestively.

"You are unbelievable, is everything about sex with you?" I say in exasperation, shooing him off as the other guard gets closer.

"You love it." He responds, leaning over to catch my lips in a rough kiss before he saunters away, leaving me frustrated and eager to get my shift over with.

Unfortunately, this takes longer than anticipated, due to a fight breaking out near the entrance, where a Surf Nazi has managed to offend a Metalhead, the two of them already beating each other into the ground by the time the guards in the area get there. In the process of separating them, a few of us (including me) got a little knocked about, resulting in some bruises, and even a nosebleed in someone else's case, meaning we needed to be checked over before we could leave. By the time it's all over, it's nearly twelve, at which point my shift should've finished an hour ago.

The walk home is no better, the stretch of road lonely and long as I go over it, knowing that Paul is most likely waiting for me at the house, which is why I can't get a ride off him. The air around me is cold, which is surprising given the time of year, making me shiver a little as I go, my hands instinctively moving to pull my jacket tighter over my uniform, concealing it from the view of the few other pedestrians I pass, though none of them pay any attention to me anyway. About half way through, my ribs start hurting on one side, where I took a blow from the Metalhead involved in the fight, the bruise starting to play up, making me slow in my stride so as not to hurt myself too badly, though I know it isn't a bad injury at all, just an awkward one. Annoyingly, this means I only arrive at my house twenty or so minutes later than I should've done, but I don't think much of it until I open the front door.

Instantly, I'm pressed up against it, a lanky body pinning me to the hard surface, hands pushing mine above my head. In the dark, his eyes appear black, though I don't get much time to see them before he's buried his face into my neck, lips busying themselves there as he kisses and licks at the soft skin, biting down here and there as harshly as he can without breaking skin, his actions drawing a surprised groan from me, my chest arching into his. Paul chuckles lowly into my pulsepoint, nosing his way back up to my jaw, where he nibbles a path to my lips. To my dismay, however, he stops there, pulling back a little.

"You're late." His breath fans hotly over my face, his hips pressing into mine.

"I got held up. There was a fight." I respond, eager to get back to it as I lean forwards, kissing him carefully, fully expecting him to back away and tease me for it, brief yet pleased surprise flaring up in me when he reciprocates with equal roughness, trailing his hands down my arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. As soon as they are released, I move my own hands to his hair, where I intertwine my fingers with the soft strands, pulling him closer as his move further down my body.

Once more, Paul's lips travel down the length of my neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the prominent vein pulsing under my skin, reminding me of my vulnerability, a moan leaving me as he brushes past my sweet spot, my grip in his hair tightening. Smirking against me, the vampire bites down on the area, being sure to leave it unbroken, his hands smoothing up and down my sides, having pushed up under my shirt, until a gasp of pain manages to escape me from where he passes over the bruise on my ribs, at which point he pulls away, confused and concerned.

"Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" He questions, moving back a bit so he can look me over, trying to find the source of my discomfort.

"I'm fine, you didn't do anything. I just took a blow from one of the kids in the fight." I reassure him, caressing his hair with a small smile on my face.

"You took a blow? Where?" His worry is sweet, hands pushing up my shirt to look for the offending injury.

"My ribs, but it's honestly fine, it's really not that ba-" I go to say, only to be cut off by a hiss of pain when he drags a thumb over the area (accidentally of course), eliciting a little noise of apology from him.

"I don't believe you." Is all he says before he's lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carries me further into the house, going to my bedroom. Once inside, he somehow manages to pull off my boots and jacket without putting me down, climbing onto the bed with me on top of him, arms cradling me against his chest. For little while, we remain there, his fingers massaging soothing circles into my tight muscles, encouraging out the knots as I let little gasps of air leave me every now and then, thoroughly enjoying being in his arms.

"I was wrong." I suddenly speak up, resting my chin on his chest as I look into his eyes.

"About what?" He inquires, looking puzzled.

"About everything being about sex with you. You can be really sweet, too." I smile at him, chuckling when he rolls his eyes.

"Only for you." He promises, now laughing at my own eyeroll.

"Bullshit, you can be really sweet with the boys, too." I remind him, tracing a pattern into his chest with a fingertip.

"Now, that is bullshit." He says in response, smirking at me.

"It isn't."

"It is."

"Isn't."

"Is."

"Isn't."

"Is-"

"I won't tell anyone." I reassure him, grinning at the protesting vampire.

"Fine. Swear to it." He grits out after a few moments, having apparently considered the offer.

"I swear."

"Good." He smiles down at me, chuckling when I yawn, the hours having caught up to me, "You should get some sleep."

"Are you sure? Won't it be annoying for you?" I question, too tired now to argue.

"Nah, I like sleeping with you." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at this, obviously having an alternative meaning behind the words, giggling when I slap at his chest in mock disgust.

"Weirdo."

"Your weirdo." He points out, blue eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"Of course."

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#marko(the lost boys)#santa carla #star(the lost boys)

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