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lying-on-floors · 2 days

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"There's only one bed..."

Jean Kirstein x Marco Bodt

Modern!AU

Jean and Marco walk through the antique smelling hallway of the sketchy motel they decided to rest at for the night. The two were on a post graduation road trip with their friends and Jean is quickly regretting that decision. Connie was constantly yelling bad jokes, Sasha was getting crumbs all over the place, and Mikasa and Armin were trying to calm Eren's annoyance.

Jean's only saving grace was Marco in the passenger seat. He was able to get them some quiet every now and then, perks of having a lot of siblings. Now, the group had to split into 3 rooms. Mikasa, Eren, Armin were in the room nearest to the elevator, Connie and Sasha were next to them and Jean and Marco were across from Connie and Sasha.

When the two men got into their room for the night, Jean immediately collapsed onto the bed. He groaned as he wiped his hands across his face,

"Dude, I'm so tired, oh my god."

Marco chuckled and Jean's stomach flipped,

"Makes sense, we were on the road for about seven hours, and you were behind the wheel for most of that."

Jean smiled and lifted his head a little to look at Marco,

"I'm so glad you offered to drive. Well, actually I don't think you gave me much of a choice."

Marco laughed,

"Yeah, you would've crashed if you had to drive any longer."

Jean threw one of the pillows on the bed at Marco's head. The pillow hit Marco in his chest and he snickered, which made Jean's cheeks feel hot.

"I'm gonna change and get ready for bed, you can use the bathroom when I get out. Go ahead and change of you want."

Jean nodded but he wasn't listening as Marco has stripped off his jacket and shirt, leaving his torso bare, God, he needed to get himself in check. They've been best friends for years and he can't ruin that over some stupid attraction, not with Marco.

The bathroom door shutting startled Jean out of his thoughts and he decided now was the best time to change out of his jeans. He typically sleeps in whatever shirt he wore that day and his underwear but he didn't want to make Marco feel uncomfortable, which he knows it wouldn't, rationally, they've seen each other in their underwear before, they are gym buddies. Jean's face felt hot when it truly hit him that he and Marco were going to have to share a bed. It's not weird, they've done it many times at sleepovers, especially as kids but now they were both adults and Jean had a crippling crush on the guy. Oh well, he was a grown man, he'd get over it and sleep in the same bed as Marco for the night.

Pretty soon, Marco came out of the bathroom with a snug gray tank top and some athletic shorts. Jean decided that the universe was playing a sick joke on him. How can one man look that good. But he guesses its not that hard when the man was already blessed with the face of a textbook angle and the body of young God.

"Left or right?"

Jean looked to Marco, unsure of what he meant.

"What?"

Marco smiled, amused,

"Do you want the left or the right side?"

Jean thought for a moment, the left side was closest to the door and he knew Marco could take care of himself but the thought of someone breaking in and killing Marco made Jean's stomach twist with worry,

"Uh, left."

Marco nodded and crawled across the bed, settling into the covers. Jean grabbed his hygeine bag from his duffle and went to the batbroom to do his nightly routine, or at least a toned down version of it, he didn't know if he could stay standing for much longer.

As Jean opened the door, Marco seemed to be fast asleep. He tip toed as quietly as he could to the empty side of the bed and breathed out to try and regain his composure. He grabbed the corner of the comforter and settled next to Marco, a little to stiff to be comfortable. Jean was unable to sleep and opted to watch Marco instead. He watched the way his breathing went from slightly fast and even to slow and rhythmic. Jean thought what it would be like to rest his head on his chest and listen to the change of his heartbeat, maybe it would lull him to sleep like a comforting white noise, he reached out and tenderly moved a stray strand of hair off of Marco's forehead.

"Jean,"

Jean's heart sank to his toes, he had been caught.

"Marco, sorry, I-it's not-I wasn't--"

He was cutoff by the man sitting up and taking his hand into his own.

"Can I kiss you?"

Jean's eyes widened at Marco's question, shock, anxiety and excitement took over his system, Marco must have got shy because he ducked his head and loosened his grip on Jean's hands.

"Yes. Yes, you can."

And with that, Marco gently moved his hand to Jean's face and kissed him, softly and chaste, like they had all the time in the world, and in a way, they did. Jean kissed back after a second of hesitancy. They kissed for what felt like forever to Jean and when Marco pulled back, he had a hint of a smile and blush on his face and Jean imagined he looked the same.

"I love you."

They said simultaneously and laughed at the suddenness of their twin confessions. Jean spoke first,

"Uhm, how long?"

Marco laughed, a bit bashful,

"Five years."

Jean laughed, loudly and exclaimed,

"Me too!"

Marco quickly shushed him, worried that he'll wake someone. Jean continued, quitter,

"I didn't even notice."

Marco snickered,

"Connie and Sasha made a bet on who would make the first move."

Jean was visibly offended,

"What!"

Marco let out an exasperated laugh,

"Yeah."

Jean wondered who won but at the same time, he didn't really care for that right now.

"Jean, we should talk more about this, about us."

Marco was a little apprehensive, worried that he would ruin the moment but as far as Jean's concerned, they have officially committed themselves to each other and nothing Marco could say or do that would make Jean let go of him, not now that he got him.

Jean reached across Marco's body and laid both of them down onto the bed.

"Tomorrow."

Jean whispered as he curled into Marco's side, resting his head on his chest, finally listening to his heartbeat and smiling at the abprupt inhale that moved his head upwards.

Marco wrapped his arms around Jean and practically pulled him on top of himself,

"Okay. Goodnight, Jean."

Jean let himself melt into the embrace,

"Goodnight, Marco."

#jeanmarco #jean x marco #aot #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #fluff #getting together #marco bodt #jean kirstein

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foundtherightwords · 3 months

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The Hollow Heart - Chapter 8

Pairing: Hellcheer, Gothic AU

Summary: To escape her mother's control and the stifling society of Gilded Age New York, heiress Christabel Cunningham impulsively marries Henry Creel, a charming and seductive stranger, and accompanies him to his remote mansion on the West Coast. There, as Henry grows cold and cruel, Christabel must uncover her husband's sinister secret before it's too late. But can she trust Kas, her husband's enigmatic assistant, who seems to be her only ally in this strange place, or is Kas's loyalty to his master stronger than his attraction to Christabel?

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 4.2k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Chapter 8 - Sweet Music and Loud

Christmas drew near. There was no snow, but Christabel was thankful that the cold was keeping the fog at bay. When it got too cold for her daily walk, she busied herself with Christmas decorations, determined to give Creel House a festive air, despite Henry's utter lack of interest.

She was learning to pick her battle with him. Like the matter of finding her a lady's maid—Henry kept putting it off, so she'd stopped mentioning it. After all, she reasoned with herself, they never went anywhere, so there was no need to dress up, and thus no need for a maid. As for Christmas, Henry had flatly refused to go to church for Christmas service or to any of the Christmas concerts in town, but he'd agreed, albeit in an absentminded kind of way, to let her decorate the house. So she'd asked Kas to cut down one of the cypress shrubs of the right size and shape of a Christmas tree and put it up in the drawing room. At least they've come in useful, she thought with grim satisfaction while draping garlands of popcorn and cranberries over the tree.

Kas seemed fascinated with the decorating. He helped her make the garlands, wove some loose cypress branches into wreaths and hung them on doors with red ribbons, and even found some ivy vines to put around window frames. It appeared Henry had never bothered much with celebrating Christmas before. She felt rather sorry for Kas and made a mental note to get a present for him.

For all their efforts, Creel House remained dark and sullen, a Scrooge that refused to be swayed by the holiday cheers no matter how many spirits of Christmas paid it a visit. But Christabel wasn't deterred. Some more decorations, something sparkly to catch the light of the candles, and a good crackling fire in the hearth, and Creel House would be ready for Christmas.

She'd stopped fighting with Henry about her money as well. She'd relented and agreed to transfer her inheritance into his account at a local bank. Since most of her father's bequest was in the form of shares and stocks and would require some paperwork to transfer, she'd offered to put her idle money into the account first. That seemed enough to appease Henry, and he even drove her to the bank himself.

"You shouldn't leave all that money lying in the vault, darling," he said, on their way into the city. "Let me invest it, and I'll give you a much better rate of interest."

Sitting next to him on the passenger seat, Christabel only shrugged. She didn't care what he did with the money, as long as it meant he'd stop nagging her about it. Besides, she was still smarting from his refusal to stay longer in the city for her to do her Christmas shopping.

This annoyance only grew when she saw how the city was decked out for the holidays—even the street lamps were wrapped in tinsels and ribbons. It was strange seeing the familiar sights of excited shoppers hurrying down the streets and Christmas decorations under an unaccustomed blue sky, so different from the gray skies and white snow of New York, yet they still made Christabel so homesick that she almost cried.

But there was nothing to do but accompany Henry into the bank, nodded at all suggestions from Henry and the bank manager, and signed all the papers they gave her. Seeing Henry was in an amiable mood, she convinced him to let her pop into the department store across the street while he wrapped up some business of his own with the manager. She'd spied the shop when they drove up and had been hoping to find some decorations for the tree there, perhaps a present or two as well.

There was so much to see in the store—she didn't realize how much she'd missed such a simple, frivolous activity as shopping—that Christabel only became aware she'd been inside for too long when the clock struck twelve. Henry was certainly going to be angry with her; she was surprised he hadn't come in to drag her out himself. She quickly paid up and reluctantly left the store with her purchase.

Crossing the street, Christabel soon found out why Henry hadn't come to find her—he was locked in an argument with an older man.

"I'm telling you, you're mistaking me with someone else," Henry was saying, in the same even tone he'd used with that man, Thompson, on the train.

"I'm not mistaken!" the other man shouted. "I'd recognize you anywhere, you bastard! You have not aged a day!" He must be in his forties at least, disheveled, with unkempt blonde hair hanging limp about his face, a scruffy mustache, and a desperate look in his blue eyes.

Their raising voices had started to draw attention, and the bank manager and a guard were coming out to see what the commotion was.

"Sir, please stop harassing our customer," the manager said to the older man. "This is a place of business. If you don't leave, I shall have to call the police."

"Call them then," the man said. "I'd love to have a word with them as well. Tell them to arrest this—this criminal"—here he poked a dirty-nailed finger in Henry's direction—"on charges of kidnapping and murder!"

"The man is clearly insane," Henry told the manager in a low voice, but the other man still heard.

"Insane, am I? Let's see how insane I can be when I tell the police that you've kidnapped my sister!" His eyes landed on Christabel as she ran to Henry's side. "Or have you found someone to replace her already? It's been what, nearly fifteen years now?"

"Sir, Mr. Creel has been an esteemed client of our bank for nearly a decade," the manager said, stepping between the man and Henry with a placating gesture. "I can assure you, whatever you're accusing him of—"

"His name is not Creel!" the man shrieked, making a lunge for Henry. "His name is Ballard, Peter Ballard! What have you done to my sister, you son-of-a-bitch? What have you done to Maxine?!"

The manager nodded at the guard, who quickly stepped in, seized the older man by the arms, and marched him away.

"No, listen to me!" the man screamed, trying in vain to fight off the burly guard. "His name is not Creel! He's Peter Ballard! I'm not mistaken! He still looks exactly as he did fifteen years ago!"

Those screams reverberated through the street, as clear as day, even as he disappeared around the corner.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" the bank manager asked, holding Christabel's elbow.

"Yes, thank you," she answered shakily. Somehow she'd managed to keep hold of her shopping.

Henry did not spare her a glance. He nodded brusquely at the manager's apology and reassurance that it would not happen again, got into the car, and started the engine, forcing Christabel to scramble to follow him or be left behind. It was like the train trip all over again. She was frightened out of her wits, and he saw nothing but his own anger.

It wasn't until they were halfway back to Creel House that Henry exploded. "That is why I don't like going into the city," he said through gritted teeth, gripping the steering wheel so hard that Christabel was afraid he was going to pull it clear off. "It's full of lunatics!"

Christabel wanted to point out that Henry seemed to have a talent for attracting lunatics whenever he went, but she knew it would be a good way to direct his anger toward herself. So she stayed quiet, while the island with its perpetual shroud of fog loomed in the distance.

***

On Christmas Eve, Christabel tried her best to be cheerful, but she could feel her spirit wilting just like the pitiful tree standing in the corner of the drawing room. Despite her efforts, it still looked bare and even more scraggly than it had outside. The strings of popcorn were ragged like the teeth of some long-dead animals, the cranberries shone dully like dark drops of blood, and the glass baubles, imported from Germany as the proprietor had assured her, which had shone with such brilliance in the store, now seemed gaudy, out of place. No present adorned its base save for the one she'd bought Henry. She'd sent her mother a Christmas card and a letter but received no reply. When she asked Henry if they should give Kas a present as well, he'd waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it," he'd said. "I've given him a Christmas bonus."

She hadn't asked whether he had a present for her.

After dinner, she could no longer stand the thought of the single, lonely box under the tree, so she retrieved it and placed it in front of Henry, who was finishing up his port in the dining room. "Here you go, darling," she said. "It seems rather silly to wait until tomorrow."

Henry barely glanced at it. "What's this?"

"Your present, of course!"

He tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a silk cravat and a cravat pin set with a ruby. "It matches mine, see?" she said, holding up her stained glass rose pendant.

"Yes, very nice, darling," Henry said absently, draining his glass of port and getting up.

"Aren't you going to try it on?" She tried to smile, but tears were stinging the corner of her eyes.

"What for? We're not going anywhere. Now, are you finished with this Christmas nonsense? I have work to do."

He went upstairs, and a moment later, she heard the attic door slam shut.

Alone in the dining room, surrounded by the torn paper, with the cravat and the pin tossed carelessly on the table, Christabel took a deep breath, waiting for the tears to flow, but they didn't come. They were caught in her chest by wounded pride and by anger, anger at Henry for his utter indifference, and at herself. Had she really thought that he would've behaved differently, just because it was Christmas? How naïve could she be?

Not wanting to go upstairs to her dark room and its ghosts, and unwilling to let Kas see her crying over silly little presents, she gathered up the cravat and the pin and went into the drawing room. The tree with its incongruous ornaments stood like a silent reminder that no matter what she did, it would never be good enough. Everything and everyone in this house was rejecting her.

She had to do something, she had to scream or break something to get rid of the iron fingers squeezing her throat, of the unshed tears burning her eyes. Storming over to the tree, she grabbed one of the glass ornaments that she had chosen with so much care and excitement, and hurled it to the hardwood floor. It exploded into thousands of tiny pieces, glittering like shards of starlight in the flickering flame of the candles.

The sharp pop of the ornament shattering made Christabel realize how childish she had been. Suddenly exhausted, she knelt down and reached for the little broom and shovel by the fireplace to clean up the pieces. That was when her eyes alighted on a large parcel under the tree, which she hadn't seen when she'd come into the room. She was quite certain it hadn't been there when she'd gone in to get Henry's present.

Christabel pulled the parcel out and placed it on the hearthrug. It was rectangular, quite heavy, and wrapped in ordinary brown paper, with a label that said "Mrs. Henry Creel, Creel House, Outside Lands, San Francisco" in an unfamiliar hand. There was no return address. Somebody must have sent it to her, and Kas had put it under the tree for her during dinner. But who? Not her mother or any of her old friends from New York, surely. They had all cut her off.

She unwrapped the parcel impatiently. The wooden lid of a box or a small trunk showed underneath. As soon as enough of the paper was peeled off, she unclasped the lid and lifted it up. Inside the box was a phonograph, along with about a dozen wax cylinder records.

Heart beating faster with excitement, Christabel assembled the phonograph and slipped a wax cylinder into place. As the first soft notes of "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" flowed from the horn, the lump in her throat immediately vanished and she almost burst into tears, though they were tears of joy this time. It seemed too long since she had heard anything other than the murmurs of the sea, the moans of the wind and the foghorns, and the echoes of her own thoughts. She'd almost forgotten how soothing music could be. Under its magic, even Creel House seemed to change. The tree looked charming and festive, and the dark was no longer sinister and oppressive but cozy and comforting.

She sat on the hearthrug with her arms around her knees and listened to all the records. When the clock struck twelve, she went up to her room, got ready for bed, and listened to them again. There were popular songs, carols, and little pieces of orchestral music. Each was only about two or three minutes long, but it was more than enough to ease her mind and fill her heart.

Most of the records were labeled with the names of the songs on them. The last four, however, were unlabeled. They contained guitar music, gentle melodies like the pattering of summer rain on a window. But now, in the quietness of her bedroom, as she listened to them again, Christabel noticed another sound in the background, a strangely familiar one. She played the records once more, putting her ear close to the horn in case she'd misheard. No, it was faint but unmistakable—the sound of foghorns. Two sharp, quick ones, followed by two more, slower and lower. The same foghorns that had been bellowing outside her windows, haunting her dreams.

Those records had been made here, at Creel House, or at least somewhere very near here.

By who? There was only one person who could have made them, and it wasn't her husband.

Christabel went to her window and looked out. The lighthouse was dark. She thought about going down into the hothouse, or perhaps the kitchen, but decided against it. Questions and answers would have to wait until the next day. For now, she let herself get lost in those sweet melodies once more and drifted off to sleep with more ease than she had in over a month.

***

Christabel woke with a strange but pleasant lightness. It took her a while to figure out why she felt that way—she'd slept through the night without being woken by nightmares. She wondered if the music had anything to do with it.

As soon as she finished breakfast, she took the present she'd bought for Kas and went down to the lighthouse. She knocked quietly on the peeling door, her stomach turning with something quite different from its usual cramps. It was apprehension, she knew. After the gruesome story she'd heard about Patrick McKinney's death, the lighthouse had taken on a sinister air for her, as sinister as Creel House itself. She didn't know what she was going to find inside. And how Kas would react.

"Yes?" came Kas's voice from behind the door.

"It's Mrs. Creel. May I come in?"

There was a pause, then she heard the sound of a chair being pushed back, and the door opened a crack. "I'm sorry," Kas said. "I can't open it any further. It's quite sunny out today. Please, come in."

"It's all right," replied Christabel, slipping through the door. "Thank you."

For a moment she stood silently, taking in the inside of the lighthouse. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting. An extension of Creel House, perhaps, only even more dilapidated. But this funny little circular room had nothing in common with Creel House, except for the thick curtains at the window.

For one thing, it was light and airy, despite the curtains. The whitewashed walls, the candles blazing on every available surface, and a glowing stove gave it a homey, cozy air. An old armchair with stuffing coming out of the back, a small table by the stove, and a little bed behind it made up all the furniture in the room. The rest was taken up by books, books on shelves nailed to the wall, books on the floor by the chair and next to the bed, and on the chair and the bed themselves as well. Scattered here and there on the shelves were little curios, shells and fossils and even little animal skulls, peeping out from between the spines of the books. Somehow they managed to look friendly and inquisitive, despite having no eyes and no flesh. A spiral cast-iron staircase took up most of the back wall. It, too, had been commandeered as an impromptu bookcase.

"What's upstairs?" Christabel asked, pointing at it.

"The lamp room. But it's not used anymore. Nothing up there but bats now."

There was even a little Christmas tree on the table, a miniature cypress draped with popcorn and cranberries, quaint and charming, a far cry from its bedraggled cousin in the big house. "That's nice," said Christabel.

Kas shrugged. "I thought I'd get into the holiday spirit as well. Is there something you need?" he asked, watching her with a half-curious, half-wary look. "Do you wish to change something about Christmas dinner? I have everything ready as you've ordered."

"No, I don't need anything." Christabel hesitated, wondering how to bring up the phonograph in a polite way. She looked around at all the books. "Have you read all of these?"

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on her questioningly. She picked up a book on the table—Coleridge. Kas must have been reading it when she knocked. There was a seagull feather between the pages, and when she opened to the bookmarked spot, the familiar lines of "Christabel" met her eyes. She raised her eyebrows at Kas, and he responded with an embarrassed little smile.

"I've always wanted to know what happens to her, to Christabel," she said, putting the book down. "I wonder why my father named me after an unfinished poem."

"Perhaps he wished for you to finish your own story."

She hadn't considered it that way. The distant memory of her father suddenly became much nearer and dearer to her.

"I came to say thank you for the phonograph and the records," she said. "They're from you, aren't they?"

A faint touch of pink flushed Kas's pale cheeks. "Well, you mentioned that you miss music, so when I saw it for sale... Was that too forward of me?"

"No, not at all," she quickly said. "I'm touched that you remember. Still, it must have cost a lot."

The moment she mentioned it, Christabel realized how tactless it was of her, but Kas didn't seem to notice. "I have nothing else to spend money on," he said with a shrug.

"And some of those records are you playing, right?"

He nodded again, looking embarrassed. "If you don't like them, I can shave them clean and record something else—"

"No," she interrupted, "I love them."

Kas smiled again, just a flash, but it lit up his whole face.

"Where did you learn how to play?"

"From a Spanish missionary, when we first came to San Francisco."

"And is that your guitar?" Spotting the instrument leaning against the bed, Christabel picked it up without waiting for Kas's answer. It was clear that he took great care with the guitar, for the wood glowed like honey, and every tuning key gleamed. The words "Dragon Slayer" were carved into the body. She looked at Kas, amused. "You name it?"

Another quick grin flashed across his face, and for a moment, he looked almost boyish with enthusiasm. "You know how the knights in the old legends often name their swords, like Excalibur and Night's Edge and Protector of the Realm and things like that?" he said. "This is the same."

"The guitar is your weapon?"

His eyes darkened with a strange shadow. "Some monsters can be vanquished by music," he said enigmatically.

Christabel thought of how light and refreshed she'd felt that morning, how the ghosts seemed to have kept their distance all night. Is that why you gave them to me? Or is it a mere coincidence? She looked into Kas's eyes. The candles were brightening them into a soft brown, making them shine as brightly as the guitar. Something in his gaze sent a strange warmth coursing through her, burning her cheeks and making her chest flutter. She turned away, searching for a source of diversion.

"Where did you find these?" she said, pointing to the skulls.

"In the woods, on the beach. Anywhere during my travels with Mr. Creel, really."

"Why do you collect them? Most people would find them macabre."

"Would they?"

"Of course. Death is frightening." She thought of Henry in his Red Death costume.

"Is it? I don't think so. I think it's beautiful. If nothing dies, nothing grows. Death means a new beginning."

She stared at him in wonder. Henry had also said things like that when they'd first met, but always with such pomposity, as though he was proclaiming some grand wisdom. Kas sounded like he was stating a simple fact. Who was this man, who was a servant and yet didn't act like a servant, who could say such beautiful things in such an understated way, who confounded her and comforted her at the same time?

She was so flustered that she'd almost forgotten her true reason for coming to the lighthouse, and only when she put her hands in her pockets for want of something to do that she remembered it. She took out the little paper package.

"I wanted to give you this as well," she said. "Your Christmas present."

Kas's face lit up with disbelief. "You didn't have to—"

"No, please." She gestured for him to open the package. "It's my pleasure."

Kas undid the paper. Inside was a pair of leather gloves, lined with fur. Christabel had agonized over what to give him, something that was personal enough without being too personal. When she saw the gloves advertised in a catalogue, they had felt just right.

"I hope they fit," she said. "I notice that your hands are always cold, so..." She trailed off, for Kas was still bent over the gloves, running his fingers over the soft leather, and she couldn't see his face. Was he angry? Had she offended him again? "I'm sorry," she said uncertainly. "I must have overstepped. I didn't mean—"

"No." He finally looked up, and she was taken aback by what she saw on his face. He seemed on the verge of tears. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. It's just—I've never gotten any presents before. Thank you." He tucked the gloves into the inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you," he repeated, hand tentatively reaching out for her.

Thinking he wanted to shake her hand, Christabel gave it to him. But he didn't merely shake her hand. Taking her hand in both of his, he held it for a long time, caressing her fingers just as he'd caressed the gloves. His hands were warm now, and their gentle touch sent her nerves all fluttering, from the tips of her fingers to her chest, from her chest to her stomach, and from her stomach to her knees, making her tremble and breathless. Then, to her astonishment, he turned her hand over and pressed his lips to her palm briefly, before squeezing her fingers closed and laying them against his cheek for a moment, as if to trap the kiss in her hand.

A bell above the door rang loudly, shrilly, and Kas dropped her hand like a hot coal.

"Mr. Creel is ringing for me," he said. "I must go." He took down a cloak from its hook behind the door, which covered him from head to foot. But even this wasn't enough—he also picked up a large parasol. Thus equipped, he opened the door wide to let in the brilliant sun and stood by, waiting for her.

"Well, Merry Christmas," Christabel said unimaginatively and went out. Even then, she didn't return to the house right away but remained in the garden, watching Kas hurry across the sunlit space under his dark cloak and parasol, while her palm still tingled with the memory of his kiss, as though she'd been touched by the gentlest brand of all.

Chapter 9

A/N: Kas's guitar is based on Eddie's acoustic guitar, which has "This machine slays dragons" painted on it (which, in turn, is based on Woody Guthrie's "This machine kills fascists" guitar.)

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #joseph quinn #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #hellcheer au #henry creel #joseph quinn fic #kas!eddie #vampire!eddie munson

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whencallstheheart · 3 years

Note

One thing I really don't comprehend is why Liz picking Lucas was really that much of a shock for Nathan stans. I mean, she had expressed just as much interest in him than she did Nathan, if not more at certain times so why is team Nathan acting like Lucas never existed in Elizabeth's affections and that he was never even a choice?!

I get that they interpreted things in a different way, but I know Team Lucas (TL) wouldn't have been SHOOK the way Team Nathan (TN) was if it was the other way around. I know this because we all resigned ourselves to the fact that they were going to go that predictable route in the penultimate episode and while we had HUGE reservations, we didn't act blind to the fact that it was always kind of a possibility.

Now this merely stems from what I've read and seen on social media, but we didn't ignore the reality of what was happening in comparison to TN. We didn't ignore Elizabeth's chemistry and interactions with Nathan, or the small symbolic gestures they shared or the very intent way Nathan pursued her. However it truly baffles the mind that the other team really went out of their way to ignore every time she ever looked, smiled widely, laughed, yearned and had fun & some real passionate chemistry with Lucas. I mean talk about selective watching. 😂

All Lucas stans hear is how Lucas is shady, but Nathan's enormous lie about Jack is brushed over and twisted into a noble sacrifice, whereas I guarantee had it been Lucas, he would have been painted as an opportunistic conman who took advantage of a widow's pain and loneliness, a man who wormed his way into her life in a completely questionable and frankly dishonest way. The truth is that his one lie is bigger than any lie Lucas or really any other character has ever told Liz and that already set off alarm bells for me personally and is just one of the many problems I have with Nathan's character, however we don't have time to go through all my issues with him.

As for the way the story was told, I'm not sure why certain fans think that TN was inevitable and that his reward for apparently just existing and taking care of Allie would be Elizabeth, who has been having intimate after intimate moment with Lucas. Seriously, she went on more dates with Lucas, she would even make the first move with him like taking his hand or being open to maybe kissing him and it was LUCAS that stopped it. I mean maybe in the penultimate episode when Lucas literally put Liz's happiness above his own, I can understand why TN held out hope but to act like EVERYTHING that happened between her & Lucas before that wasn't an honest appraisal of her feelings is just so odd and it kind of came across as denial.

It is also bizarre how TN could ignore and excuse SO MUCH of what she did or said, how she conducted herself and how she would retreat from Nathan more often than not, how he would keep pursuing her and how she would barely give anything back. I mean, how much can you really just blame her fear of getting hurt on her rejection of him? That's a bit too simplistic, because that fear existed equally in her opening her heart to Lucas, plus it seems that TN care more about Nathan's happiness than whether him and Liz really belonged together and if she truly wanted to be with him. 🤷‍♀️

I mean even reading your analysis, I noticed it was based on how Nathan deserved her after everything, but she's not a prize and while I know you did not mean it that way, it just doesn't seem like a good enough reason for them to be together & nor is Ally. I've noticed that TN just adored the neat perfect family 'appeal' they had because Liz has LJ and Nathan has Allie who ironically Lucas helped him adopt with the money he offered.

However, that is not a sustainable enough reason for two people to build their lives together. They have to have that kind of love, spark and connection that is incomparable and cannot be broken.

I think all three characters deserve partners who truly loved each other for who they are intrinsically and not anything else, not Lucas's money which apparently is the only reason she could ever love him, because she's apparently a spineless gold digger, who couldn't possibly love him for his compassion, his unwavering friendship, sense of humour, loyalty and patience 😂 or rather Nathan's automatic dad appeal and the land he purchased and the complete nuclear family they could have created, which I again could understand because that is a tempting offer also and she already loved Allie so it could have fit her too, had she wanted Nathan in that way.

Don't get me wrong, I don't love how long it took to get us here & I do agree that it should have been concluded earlier in the season & Elizabeth doesn't come off looking great. Although in a way, with everything that she has been doing with Lucas, it could have looked a lot worse for her character to have discarded him too, but I suppose that is all a matter of perspective. I don't however believe that Elizabeth is some kind of monster which is apparently what some of TN have landed on because she rejected Nathan. It's like we've forgotten that a woman doesn't owe love or a relationship to someone just because they've put the time in, not Nathan and not Lucas. It would have also been okay if she had just decided to keep them both as friends, that is her right as a woman. Just because she didn't pick what certain fans wanted, they have dragged her unfairly when she was also really struggling with not only mourning her husband and the life they had, but having to pick up the pieces and carve a new life out for herself, whilst struggling with the immense confusion surrounding her feelings for both men. I don't think the cobwebs really cleared for her until Lucas removed himself from the equation, I think that is when she really opened her eyes to whom she could not, rather did not want to live without.

Anyway sorry for the long rant, you just seem like you love to analyse shows and characters the way I do. 😆

It all boils down to perception. That’s it. It also doesn’t help that people were essentially forced to pick sides. Everything became black and white for people. If one man was a certain way, the other was the opposite... even if that wasn’t true. But that’s what we’re conditioned to think. It’s like politics. The lines may be more gray but people are going to only believe what they want to believe or are told to believe by others within their party. Nobody’s gonna listen to the other side because they’re the “enemy”. That’s not really a great strategy for a tv show largely about community. The show is so proud of the fandom that was built but yet they actively worked to divide it for the past 3 years.

I think a lot of the frustration comes from the fact that Lucas did get all those interactions with Elizabeth. He got the dates. He got the almost kiss. He got the hand-holding. Nathan got NOTHING romantic with her even though we were led to believe he would at some point since it was supposed to be a triangle. If she had picked Nathan, at least Team Lucas would’ve had all those moments to hold onto. At least they got something along the way. Team Nathan didn’t. And because he wasn’t getting much along the way, it made people think that it had to be coming. That they’re putting him through all of this because it’s going to end in his favor. It felt like the natural course of the storytelling (but now we know there wasn’t even any planned storytelling... they just made it up along the way???).

The two teams are never going to get along now. People have made up their minds and they will continue to believe what they want to believe. No side is better than the other. You have issues with Nathan so why can’t people have issues with Lucas? That’s hypocritical. You have your reasons and others have theirs for believing certain things about the characters. At some point you just have to agree to disagree because this is how things are now thanks to how it was all written and how it was handled on and off screen. We don’t need to be pointing fingers at the fans.

#truelovewinsout

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stoopsbookstore · 5 years

Text

Kinktober Day 5 (10/05/2019)

Kink - Mechanophilia (Sexual arousal caused by machines), Bonus light impregnation kink

"I don't think we should take the contact."

The 10 guys of NCT Chop shop were in a sticky situation. An offical letter from SJ industries offered the boys 1,000 dollars each if they allowed the company to take over their workshop, the one place that they've felt free enough to be themselves and work on their projects.

"Where would we go?" Taeil asked the group, all with unsure grimaces on their faces.

"With 10,000 grand, we should be able to find a cheap enough place that we can work from, possibly in a better neighborhood and that could mean more rich clientele," Jungwoo spoke up, looking the letter over.

"We should at least try to talk them up to two grand a piece," Doyoung took the letter from the younger boy, reading one sentence out loud, "right here, it says 'We will stop by tomorrow,' meaning today, 'to talk about any problems and possible solutions.' We could talk to them then."

"But we still need to come to a consensus, take the money or not?" Taeyong, their democratically appointed leader, looked at the 9 other members, "all for one and one for all, remember?"

A knock at the large door shocked the boys, Yuta going over to open it, 3 tall men and a girl around their age on the other side.

"Hello," a man in a gray suit with the nametag 'Leeteuk' looked the group up and down, "you must be the gentlemen who work here. Is there a manager?"

"I guess that would be me?" Taeyong walked towards him, sticking his hand out, "I'm Taeyong, pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Likewise," Leeteuk shook Taeyong's hand, wiping his hand on his pants as Taeyong gestured the others to come inside, "this is Shindong and Heechul, and my secretary, Y/N."

The group bowed, Y/N keeping her eye on the tall boy whose coveralls were embroidered with "Johnny" in red thread on the left side of his chest.

"Now," Leeteuk threw his suitcase at Y/N, the girl catching and holding it to her side, "I assume you boys are willing to take the offer? I mean, judging on how this place works, you could use the money."

"Wel-"

Taeil was cut off by Leeteuk, "Don't tell me you're thinking about not taking the offern? 10,000 for you must be a lot."

"It is," Taeyong hid the disgust on his face for the cocky male, "but this is also our home, we've been here for years, some of us have even stayed here when we had nowhere else to go. One grand a piece isn't enough to make us part with this place."

"How about we talk about this?" Leeteuk threw his hands in a smug manner, "Shindong, Heechul, go with the others while I talk to Mr. Taeyong."

"What do yo-"

"Oh, that's right, Y/N is here too," Leeteuk looked at the group, "Lanky boy, what's your name?"

"I can tell you it's not Lanky Boy," Johnny looked up, displaying his name on his clothes, "I assume you can read, seeing as you are a huge CEO?"

Y/N and Johnny's nine friends started laughing, Leeteuk whipping his head around to give an annoyed stare at his secretary, the girl immediately halting all actions and staring at the floor. Leeteuk threw his hand over the shoulder of Taeyong as the tourgroups began to break off, Johnny and Y/N shaking each other's hands.

"Taeyong my boy, let's go talk," Leeteuk practically dragged Taeyong away from his friends, the leader looking at the other mechanics with a concerned look on his face.

"Is he always like that?" Johnny asked Y/N, the boy picking up a rag and wiping some grease off his face.

"Do you always keep those googles on?" Johnny touched his face at Y/N's comment, playfully rolling his eyes.

"They're stylish, but back to that Lettuce dude."

"It's Leeteuk and You'd be surprised how kind he can actually be when he's not talking about business," Y/N scoffed, looking around the huge area, machines, wood and metal decorating the space.

"Ah," a simple word out of Johnny's mouth as he notices Y/N's interest, "would you like to take a look around? None of the tools are plugged in, so no Final Destination deaths here."

Y/N awkwardly chuckled at the sight of the handsome boy, "umm, yeah, sure."

"We call this Ellie," Johnny pointed to a big machine, picking up a giant tube, "she helps us clean up faster, sucking up all the dust and dirt."

Y/N smiled and nodded along, watching Johnny excitedly go from machine to machine.

"Here we have a wood splitter, nothing fancy, just sort of does what its name says it does," Johnny gestured to a small room inside the workspace, "we call this the tool prison, drills, hammers, nails, screws, you name it, it's in there."

Johnny pulled out a chainsaw, pretending to rev it up as Y/N jumped back, still quiet so she won't interrupt Johnny's excitement.

"I call this Betsy, she's been my tool since day 1," Johnny showed Y/N the carved out name in the side of his chainsaw, "she's a bit old, but still works."

"How did you get into mechanics and tools?" Y/N walked over to a table, a nailgun, a drill and some screws scattered on the top.

"They're sexy," a laugh from Y/N causing Johnny to make fingers gun, "but seriously, Taeyong and Taeil needed someone else to help them with their projects and I was in the same woodshop class with them a few years ago."

Y/N walked around, exploring the shop, "do you want to continue giving me the tour?"

"Sure, why not? This is a table saw, one of my friends actually almost got injured real bad by this one," Johnny started fucking with the machine, spinning the sawblade as Y/N visibly freaked out while Johnny played with the sharp tool, "she was using this tool for a show that her class was putting on, one of the triangles she was cutting had a nail or staple in it and it shut out, narrowly missing her."

"Ohmygod, is she okay?" Y/N cringed at the story, Johnny putting the safety cover back on the machine, smirking at Y/N.

"Yeah, she's fine," Johnny put his arm up, hand hidden in his sleeve, spooking Y/N, "she just has to live with one hand!"

Y/N gently smiled, continuing to look around as Johnny watches her walk around, noticing her skirt keeps raising up, the girl having to pull it down every few steps.

"Why do you work for that Leek Dance dude?" Johnny sat next to the table saw, keeping his eyes on Y/N, "like he's such a douche."

"He's my stepbrother's friend," Y/N walked over to Johnny, "the one with the pinkish hair? Heechul? He's my stepbrother and one of Leeteuk's best friends. Leeteuk offered him a job and said he would only take it if I could have an internship."

Johnny nods, swinging his legs, "an internship? That's it? Do you get paid?"

"Yeah," Y/N shrugs, standing a few feet in front of Johnny, "but it goes to Heechul for the most part. Leeteuk says 'it's for the best until Y/N can learn to control her money,' even though, you know, I'm able to do so."

As Johnny started to speak, Y/N cut him off.

"You asked me a question, I get one."

"Ok, alright. What do you want to know?"

"What's your favorite machine?"

"Does Betsy count," Johnny jumped down from the table, his googles now around his neck, Y/N shaking her head, "alright. I guess it'll have to be the table saw, come here and I'll show you a better view."

Y/N walked over to the table saw, Johnny caging her in as he showed her the unplugged cable.

"Just so no one gets their face mauled, you make sure this is never in the wall unless there is a piece of wood under it," Johnny lays the cord next to the saw, gently grabbing Y/N's hand and placing it on one of the handles and placing the other on a button, "this right here is to move it left and right. Go ahead, push the button and try it."

Y/N pressed the orange button, maneuvering the power tool, Johnny placing his hand on top of hers as he lifted up the safety cover.

"Remember, it's unplugged, so it's not going to hurt you," Johnny repositioned himself in a more comfortable position, his chest flushed to Y/N's back, the secretary feeling her body heating up at the mechanic's proximity.

Johnny watched Y/N's hands roam over the machinery, her nails tracing each curve, Johnny feeling his pants tighten as he imagines her hands on his body, tugging at his hair and pulling on hi-

"Umm," Y/N turned around, looking down at Johnny's bulge that became prominent, Johnny stammering, "I guess you were right about machines being sexy."

Johnny barely opened his mouth, Y/N using his own words against him, the pair moving impossibly close to each other as they begun to heavily make out. Y/N took off her coat, throwing it to the side, and Johnny throwing the googles around his neck along with it.

Johnny helped the girl on the metal table, the table saw right next to her, pulling her shirt above her breasts as he immediately begun to suck on one of her nipples. Y/N's hands found their way to Johnny's hair, running them through his greasy, but soft locks.

Pulling away, Johnny unzipped his coverall, pulling his cock out his boxers, bringing Y/N in for a kiss, teasing her by rubbing his cock up and down along her covered core.

"Would you like prot-"

"I'm on birth control, just fuck me," Y/N shimmied her skirt further up, the fabric looking more like a belt, allowing her to spread her legs more, a wet spot growing in the middle of her underwear.

Johnny leaned down to kiss up Y/N's body before pulling her panties to the side, guiding his cock, pushing into Y/N. His hands immediately went up Y/N's body to play with her nipples, Johnny nuzzling into Y/N's neck.

"I'm gonna fill you up with my cum," Johnny nipped Y/N's neck, thrusting into her as she held a hand over her mouth, not wanting to be caught, "barely know you, but I'm gonna make you mine."

Y/N moved her arm to lean herself up, accidentally knocking a belt sander to the floor.

"Thing was a piece of shit anyway," Johnny helped her, holding her close to his chest, Y/N scratching down his back, "next time I see you, maybe I can eat you out in the tool closet, fuck you up the ass on the wood splitter, would you like that?"

"Yes, Johnny," Y/N moaned out the mechanic's name, her forehead slick against his chest, his pounding into her not stopping, "fuck me all over the place."

"Have you sit on the table while that shitty belt sander vibrates the whole table," Johnny nipped on Y/N's ear, bucking his hips at an angle that made Y/N's high start to creep up, "maybe do it in front of your boss, piss him off."

Y/N whimpered in Johnny's arms, the feeling in her gut twisting as he continued to whisper the dirtiest things she's heard.

Y/N hadn't noticed she came until Johnny pulled her even closer.

"Good girl," Johnny looked at her, his forehead sweaty and his eyes half opened, "now you're gonna be even better and take my cum."

Johnny thrusted a few more times, Y/N sensitive in his arms, his cum seeping out of his sudden lover. He stayed in her, grabbing a cloth from his back pocket and wiping her forehead. A moment passed before Y/N broke the tension, Johnny's hand caressing her back.

"Normally, you're supposed to turn machines on, not the other way around." Johnny laughed, pulling out of Y/N and pulling down her panties, putting them in his pocket as he fixed her skirt.

"You want these back? Make a date with me," Johnny smiled as Y/N nodded, hopping off the table just as the group came back.

"So, we have a deal, Mr. Leeteuk?" Taeyong smiled triumphantly while Leeteuk shook his hand, "2 grand a piece, we keep this area and teach a class every week?"

"Yes," Leeteuk grimaced, staring at Y/N in Johnny's arms, her legs wobbling a bit, "what's wrong with you?"

"She tripped," Johnny held onto Y/N's waist, "she accidentally tripped over the belt sander that Haechan left out."

Haechan looked down at his feet, Leeteuk looking for any sign of something in her eyes. When he couldn't find any, he straightened his suit jacket.

"Ok, it was a pleasure to meet you gentlemen, this is going to be a fine partnership."

Handshakes were had all around, Johnny walking up to Y/N, taking his phone out and handing it to her. Y/N typed in her phone number, texting her number so she could have Johnny's. Leeteuk called after Y/N, the girl walking as poised as she could. After the gate closed, Johnny's phone vibrated, the text bringing a big smile on his face.

That wood splitter idea sounds fun ;)

#johnny seo #johnny #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct #nct 127 #nct au #kinktober #my writings

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kfawkes · 7 years

Note

Please can you write one for Eggsy with the prompts: "I don't deserve to be loved." & "Why are you bleeding?" Could it be like Eggsy walks in on the reader after she has self-harmed and they're best friends so when she breaks down in front of him it breaks his heart. Plus they've always had feeling for eachother so he confesses it to her to show how much he truly loves her.

Thanks so much for being patient! I hope you like it!!!! As always it takes me 10000 years but it’s here so ;.;

*I also wanna say that if you or ANYONE on here are having a hard time and are self harming/thinking about suicide please try to resist and talk to someone. Here is a link to some of your options. As a side note I also wanna say that If you don’t think you can trust anyone or no one will be there– fucking message me. I will be here for you okay? Okay.*

Pairing: Eggsy x f!Reader

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: SELF HARM. Blood, cursing.

Please be warned this is relating to self harm as the prompt states. I will not be giving a ‘preview’ this time, read below the break. But it does end up alright!!

You were so sick and tired of feeling like this. Feeling like shit, feeling like the entire world was out to get you, like you were alone, scared… destined to just float aimlessly through the void… It was exhausting, taxing and some days you wondered if you’d even make it to the next one.

Some days you didn’t think you would… days like today. Which was why you were sitting on the bathroom floor, your previously white hand towel stained in a deep red of your own doing… Well, mostly. There were a few in there from your ex of course… But bottom line was this fresh blood that ran down your arm, dripping into a pool of temporary peace, was all thanks to you.

It wasn’t something you were proud of, but when things got to be too much you just… did it. You had to let it out somehow, didn’t you? And the only way you found you were able to get through it all was to hurt yourself… It was the only way you could—

Knock, knock, knock.

“Fuc—“ you mumbled under your breath, biting your lip hard as you pressed the towel deeper into your arm. “Uh… just a second!” you yelled towards the door, but you could hear whoever it was already pressing it open, another knock echoing alongside the familiar voice.

“Y/n? You in here?”

It was Eggsy, but of course it was.

He was the only person that would stop by this late on a Saturday night. He was the only one with a key to your place too now that you though about it. But, this was really not a good time considering all the tears and the blood…

You stood quickly, wrapping the towel the length of your arm while you stumbled around cleaning up the mess you’d made. “Um, yes. Ju-just a second, Eggsy.”

No, this really was not the time, but time or not he was here, and you had to pull it together and quick— you couldn’t let him see you like this. You walked to your mirror, wiping under your eyes and powdering your nose lazily… you knew it wasn’t going to be that convincing considering how obvious it was that you’d been crying, but you had to at least try, right?

So you shoved your bathrobe over your arms, the hand towel still wrapped tightly around your arm as a makeshift bandage. After a deep breath you pushed through the door offering Eggsy a wide smile, yet avoiding his gaze as you hugged him in greeting. Before he had the chance to examine your face further you had already made your way into the kitchen, opening the fridge for absolutely no reason other than to appear busy.

Eggsy offered his normal set of pleasantries at first as he sat at the table, watching you carefully. Your back was to him still, which was the first red flag. He was your best friend after all, and you really should have known you couldn’t fool him.

When you turned towards him with two bottles of water he made that perfectly clear. His arms were crossed and he was leaned back deeply into the chair with lips pursed and brows raised suspiciously. “You alright, Y/n?”

And to that you offered an unconvincing smile, trying your best to brush off his question as you walk from the room; making your way to your bedroom. Eggsy was following closely behind, and even though you couldn’t see him you knew he had that same look set like stone.

“I’m fine, silly. It’s just late. You’re the one that came over at like… what 11? I was sleeping.” you answered, not looking back as continued forward. You could feel how closely he was to you, and it made you nervous, and you knew you weren’t going to be able to keep this up if he kept asking questions.

“You was sleepin’?” he asked, completely unimpressed, ignoring your silent plead.

“Yes? I was… why is that so hard to believe?”

“Well, you ain’t slept earlier than 2 since senior year t’start.” he reminded you raising an unsatisfied brow as he narrowed the gaze below it.

“Yeah, well… I did today.”

Eggsy stood at the door, crossing his arms deeper as that frown spread like a wave. “Stop it.”

You froze then because there was no way you were capable of handling this right now, and the last thing Eggsy needed was to worry about you. He had enough going on with Dean and his mum… You were supposed to be a safe place, not something that made him feel worse.

“Stop… what?” you asked even though you knew exactly what he meant.

“Lyin’.” he stepped closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can tell me anythin’ you know that, yeah?”

“I know, Eggsy… but, honestly it’s fine.” you lied. You wanted to tell him you were sick of your ex. That you were sick of school and work… that you were sick of everything.

But you couldn’t. No, you wouldn’t.

And Eggsy definitely didn’t buy it. You really should have seen that coming as well. But even though you both knew you were lying, he didn’t say a thing. He just sent you a sympathetic smile, one lined dolefully with failure… Eggsy wanted to know what had you crying. What hurt you so bad… he wanted to tell you it would all be okay and that you were so beautiful, even now when you were lying to his face.

But he never was one to push, and if you didn’t want to tell him, then he wasn’t going to make you. Except, when he grabbed your hand he felt something… a silky, smoothness that seemed to be we—

“What the fuck?” he pulled his hand to the light, they were lined red with blood. How you hadn’t felt the steady stream running down your arm was beyond you, but somehow you hadn’t, and now you were fucking caught.

“It’s nothing.” you lied again, pulling your arm to your chest as you step away from him.

“Nothin’? You’re bleedin’, Y/n… Why’re you bleedin’?”

“I’m not.”

“Wh— you are. I got it on me don’I? Lemme see it…” he gestured passively towards your arm, the rose color was undeniable on your light gray robe.

“No.”

His face pulled into one of disbelief at your flat out refusal, and when he opened his mouth again you were pretty sure he knew just what was going on. No, you were positive he knew.

“What d’you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean ‘no’. Does that word ever have a different meaning?” you glared, becoming defensive as you pulled your arm to hide beneath the other. You could see the red now staining your side and sleeve from the pressure, but you tried to avoid it as best you could.

Eggsy couldn’t however, and his eyes grew so wide it was a wonder they didn’t pop out of his head to be honest. If it your world wasn’t crumbling around you, you may have even laughed at it.

“Goddamn it… Please Y/n… Can I see your arm?” he stepped closer to you, his chest rising and falling in a cadence you found more comforting than you should. When you looked in his eyes, they weren’t angry at all, and despite the quickness of the words leaving his mouth; neither were they.

Actually, Eggsy didn’t sound mad at all. Just… scared. Like his world was crumbling before his eyes…

You opened your mouth to protest again, but instead you just started crying, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself for being so weak. But he grabbed you immediately, his hands wrapping so tightly that you couldn’t help but break down further.

A moment later he slid his hands to either side of your face, his eyes flickering between your own almost desperately… that look of utter concern entrapped his usual cheeky expression, and you hated that it was your fault.

“What’d you do, luv…” he asked quietly, pressing his forehead to yours, the desperation seeping off like the sweet smell of his skin.

“I… I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know, Eggsy I c-“ you broke down again, the tears sliding down your face and they were anything but kind. “I can’t do it anymore… I just can’t. Everything with my family… with work and school a-and just… I can’t handle it. I don’t deserve anything…”

“Stop it… don’t talk like that.” this time when he spoke you could hear the mist of fear and affection seeping off his every syllable. “You can’t do this shit… what if you really hurt yourself, Y/n? Hmm? What am I supposed t’do without you?”

“I…”

“Things is tough sometimes, an it’s shit. But that’s jus life, luv… but you ain’t alone in it. Not ever.”

If you didn’t know any better you’d have said Eggsy was almost crying when he spoke… like the idea of losing you shook him so deeply he couldn’t even think on it it without breaking down himself.

“I fuckin’ love you, yeah?” his lip was quivering slightly, and even though it was a frown of sorrow you couldn’t help but see it’s beauty.

You couldn’t help but— wait what?

“You… you love me?” you looked at his face as if he were just fucking with you… but you knew Eggsy would never do that… But still, you just couldn’t believe it. “No. I don’t deserve to be loved.”

“Oh, for fucks sake…” he sighed out heavily pulling you closer, his fingers braiding through your hair, sliding to their place with ease as he kissed you. Soft and tenderly… and it was everything you ever imagined it would be. And yes, you’d imagined it more than once.

When his lips parted yours, both of your eyes remained closed for a moment, your noses brushing softly together as you reluctantly slipped back to reality. “I love you, an I ain’t losin’ you, d’you hear me?”

You smiled, and it real this time as you pulled him closer; breathing him in deeply as you nodded into his chest. The soft tears still streaming as your eyes and arm stained his sweater.

In truth you could have stayed there— like this— forever, but there was no way Eggsy was going to let that happen, even if he himself had been waiting for that kiss since he met you in the 7th grade.

“Come on, luv. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? We got all the time in the world now.”

A long happy sigh left your lips as you nodded allowing yourself to be led towards the sink. You couldn’t describe it but you felt so much stronger all of a sudden. Like you could do anything as long as Eggsy was by your side. Like together, you two would be unstoppable.

You weren’t sure if any of that were true, but you seriously didn’t care and were absolutely ready to find out.

#Eggsy Imagine #Eggsy x reader #eggsy unwin x reader #kingsman fic #kingsman #my writing #prompt #ask #answered #fawkes talks #eggsystential crisis #tw: self harm

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