#delighted to finally share with you all as im quite proud of it.
Note
Ikora/Eris (regular or hive flavor) throne world exploration, and/or discussion of hive magic and void light - playing with the idea that void is/was considered dangerous and difficult to wield
this prompt fill got combined with some other things I had going and turned into Chapter 2 of Presence and Absence! thank you for such a thought-provoking idea. enjoy!
Presence and Absence - Chapter 2 (2533 words)
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3
Endless vibrant wetlands encircled Savathûn's castle-city in her throne world. Lush vegetation coated the rises. Water filled the valleys, moving too quickly to stagnate, yet too slowly to prevent prodigious blooms of Traveler knew what kinds of algae, bacteria, or other unclassifiable microorganisms.
Few of the Lucent brood bothered Ikora and Eris as the two of them picked their way along the high ground. A distant acolyte did fire one inquisitive shot, but the Void soul Ikora flung in the direction of its patrol squad quickly drained them all of existence. Their forms folded out of this and every reality as neatly as if they had never been. After that, the two humans were well left alone.
The energy her Void had consumed flowed back to Ikora, renewing her connection to it. With some discomfort, Ikora wondered if this felt anything like the tithes Eris had—until very recently—been taking for the past several months.
If so, Eris had walked away from a power that came as naturally to her as a Lightbearer's Light, after she herself had been long bereft of it. No one could deny that she had excelled at the sword logic, once she was the hand behind the blade rather than the throat beneath its edge. Elsie had been right about one thing: the smile that danced in Eris' voice. She had enjoyed this.
It was Ikora's job to worry about such things. And she had, of course, even while defending Eris to anyone who would listen and many who wouldn't. She had never been so profoundly afraid that she would finally lose Eris to her quest for revenge. How could she not, when Eris had become Vengeance itself?
But Eris' strength of character had put Ikora and all her necessary doubts to shame. Now Eris walked by her side lighter than ever: freed from both the shackles with which Savathûn had bid her bind herself, and from the burden of the task she had claimed long ago. She would never be free of what the Hive had done to her—what she had done to herself because of them. But she had proved, to herself and the entire world, that she was far more than just that.
Conflicting emotions knotted tight in Ikora's chest in a complicated snarl. With the intent of soothing it, she dropped her mind into the clear focus required by the Void and called up another Void soul. She did not activate it. She cupped it spinning between her hands for a moment, as if caught in the eddy of a current. Then she released it to orbit about her head like a little ringed moon.
Breaking the silence that had held them since their arrival, Eris spoke. "Your mastery of the Void is...exquisite," she said. As she spoke, she easily kept pace with Ikora’s longer stride, even fully armored once more.
Mild surprise seeped through Ikora, more at her own reaction than Eris' words. She had thought herself long past the point of being affected by flattery regarding her chosen, primal element. As Vanguard, she knew precisely to what degree she was the most competent and effective channeller of the Void currently in existence, at least as a Warlock. Ikora saw no purpose in comparing herself to past Guardians, not least because there was no accurate way to measure such things. On the other hand, Chalco always said to stop being so humble and admit that even then she was quite likely the best, period.
So why did Eris' simple yet genuine praise warm Ikora's cheeks?
"You never were that fond of Void, were you?" Ikora asked. A deflection.
A rueful smile flickered across Eris' lips. She shook her head. "I was always too impatient for its gravity. Perhaps now, after everything, I would be able to hold it differently. But alas, we shall never know.
"Arc called me to run as quickly as I desired. Then it bade me go even faster." Her smile returned sharp-toothed with the memory. She grinned at Ikora. "I could once Blink faster and farther than even you."
Ikora's eyebrows shot upward. "Oh, is that so?" she returned. "You're lucky you never told me that back when we hunted Ahamkara together. Otherwise I would have insisted that you prove it."
The sound of Eris' responding laugh was quiet. Yet it pealed and rang within Ikora as if her body were a bell of finest bronze tuned to its exact frequency. Hearing that unexpected mirth on the rarest of occasions, gradually more often in these last few years...it grew hope in her like a garden. If Eris Morn could laugh again, then even the greatest challenges of their era might yet diverge from their dire straits.
Violet unraveled into indifferent indigo as Ikora's Void soul decomposed into a more typical absence. The two women paused atop a tall bluff overlooking both the Miasma and the Quagmire. The green sky was brilliant and inscrutable with clouds and unknown celestial bodies that did not truly exist. The blunt Pyramid bleeding resonant burnt orange lay in the depths of the swamp like the antithesis of the Lucent city's lofty spires.
"It's funny, isn't it," Ikora mused. "For so long, we thought of Void as the most difficult, the most dangerous element to wield: the most prone to confuse, to corrupt. But you went on to learn to wield far more dangerous powers without falling."
Eris tilted her head back and forth. "Mmm. It is difficult to compare such things now to my previous lives. The powers I have claimed have been more unfamiliar, yes. Perhaps, from such a perspective, that is the same thing."
Ikora acknowledged her point with a yielding gesture of her hand. They began descending the other side of the bluff, following its sheer edge.
"Then again," Eris continued, "I cannot deny that the Hive's preoccupation with the sword logic does indeed make missteps in their spells more likely to be...costly."
Ikora was confident that her face did not betray an echo of her concern regarding the particular immense spell Eris had been casting for the past few months. It was over; Eris was still here. Nonetheless, a twinge of residual unease echoing from the memory of such deep fear unsettled her stomach. "That makes a certain amount of sense."
The two of them stopped again on a low rise of overgrown earth near the water line. Thick-trunked trees and crumbling spires studded the marshland. It was never silent here, where a hundred unknown small creatures flew and buzzed and swam and sloshed and grumbled and fed and grew and died. Some were unlike anything Ikora had ever encountered, even in the outer reaches of Sol’s system. Ikora wondered if any of them were resurrected memories from old Fundament, dredged from the witch queen's oldest recollections.
In the distance, a Lightbearer knight summoned twin Void shields with a resounding roar and flung one after another at a Scorn ravager brandishing a lantern full of sublimating ice.
"I wonder how the Lucent brood interprets the Void. They reject Stasis, yet despite the Void's similarity to it, they don't seem to have trouble using it. Although that may be because we only meet the competent in combat. How does the Hive's distinct concept of death influence their relationship with the ultimate paracausal expression of absence?"
Eris listened to the monologue of Ikora's thoughts as attentively as ever. She was so easy to talk to in some ways, so difficult in so many others. For the moment, Ikora opted to continue in this easier vein.
"Sometimes I still have to warn new Guardians not to get drawn in too deep by that vortex. Even though there are far more dangerous tools at their fingertips these days, it's still a little easier than I'd like to become lost in it. Perhaps, as a civilization on the brink of death, it is the echo of the Collapse that lives in us."
"That may be. But I think it more likely that such risk is the nature of any power."
"Perhaps. Or maybe, as you mentioned, it is more a question of...perspective."
Gently, Ikora reached into thin air and slipped her hand into the Weave.
"Oh!" Strand immediately coiled up her wrist and forearm like an excessively friendly colubrid. "It's very close to the surface here. It tends to be more challenging to summon this far away from Neomuna and the Veil."
"Hmm." Eris stepped closer, peering at it with eyes that were a slightly yellower and more luminescent shade of green. "Savathûn's throne world rests deeper in the Ascendant Plane than our own. And it is, by her own personal design, a realm that embodies thought and consciousness. Perhaps that is why."
"I suspect you are right."
"I did not expect to see you wield Darkness."
No trace of accusation tainted Eris' tone, but inwardly, Ikora flinched anyway. The advent of Stasis had precipitated one of the longest silences between them yet. Ikora had let Eris' letter regarding it go unanswered for so many months. She still hadn't replied, in truth. But hopefully, after everything—after supporting Eris through her ascension to dark godhood, however brief—hopefully, she knew that Ikora did not judge her. She never had. But the Eris who had survived the Hellmouth had always taken judgement in stride more easily than concern.
Ikora gathered a bundle of Strand like a handful of living green fronds. "I did not expect to, either," was all she said. She did not mention anything about how different Strand seemed from Stasis, nor about the intricacies of her mixed feelings toward either element. For now, she let it go.
She took pains to keep her grip gentle and nonurgent on the green fibers, lest they snap or ensnare her. Strand ran like a segment of an otherwise unseen river over the horizontal surfaces of her palms, vanishing as smoothly as it appeared. Then she lifted it up to chest height and held it out to Eris like a peace offering. As far as she knew, Eris had not yet had an opportunity to assess this newest emanation of the Darkness. Among so, so many other things these days, they had not yet discussed it.
"Here," Ikora said. "Careful, though."
With another step closer, Eris skimmed the surface of the spun emerald with the fingertips of one hand. Even before she touched it, it reacted to her with a ripple. Of course it was affected by perception; it was the essence of consciousness itself.
Eris stood only a pace away, hands floating like leaves above the riverbed of Ikora's palms. Channeling Strand as she was, Ikora felt the closeness of another being more intensely than usual. Eris was a ponderous presence in the Weave, a remarkably powerful conflux of catalytic intention, coiling recursively upon herself in unpredictable ways. Ever the Hunter, she was adaptive in the extreme. She was near impossible to pin down, even for Ikora, who had refined prediction to a paracausal art of probabilities with her Light.
Without moving or withdrawing from the magnetic parallel of their palms, Eris looked up.
Her eyes met Ikora's in a moment that rang like a soundless bell. Different threads of verdant potential cast themselves invisibly about their forms. She was very close.
The knowledge that Eris would kiss her if Ikora leaned in dropped into her mind like a plumb line, direct and true.
A few threads of the Strand in her hands snapped like static discharge. They both jumped back. Ikora dropped the ropy bundle back into the Weave and shook out her stung fingers. With the same alacrity, she leapt forward again to ascertain that Eris was unhurt.
"Eris! Are you alright? Sometimes it throws unraveling needles when it snaps. Did any hit you?"
A distinct lack of concern kept Eris' voice smooth as she said, "Only one." She lifted her hand up to eye level to peer at the tiny green needle embedded in her glove. "How curious." She plucked it out with ease and tossed it away as if it were a mere wooden splinter. Before it could hit the ground, it had vanished whence it came.
Ikora grabbed the hand that had been struck and examined it herself. Impossibly, paracausally sharp as it was, the needle had left a pinhole in even the tough chitin of Eris' gauntlet, as clean and perfectly round as if an awl had punched through paper.
"Did it pierce the armor?"
"Only by the smallest amount. Even so, it–"
Ikora had already thrown a healing rift about the two of them.
"Ikora." The annoyance in Eris' voice was balanced with something softer, something perhaps almost fond. "I am, as I know that you know, now, not so fragile. I have had papercuts far worse."
"That isn't the point." Ikora scowled at the pinhole and rubbed at the spot with a thumb.
"Then what is?"
Ikora looked up to answer and found Eris, once again, very close. Closer than comfort would condone, if Ikora were honest with herself. But she had not lived this long, had not become Warlock Vanguard—had not become Ikora Rey—by letting her fears make her back down, back away. She held her ground, and spoke a truth.
"I don't want to hurt you, Eris. No matter how little."
Eris did not retreat, either. She held Ikora's gaze with all the intensity of the soulfire that animated her pupil-less eyes. Her reply came as the softest possible utterance. "Then what do you want?"
"I—ah..." What did she want? It was not a question she often gave thought to, other than the larger-than-life calling to see the remains of humanity preserved and protected; the need to see Eris safe. Furthermore, it was difficult to devote thought to the matter now, with Eris so close, hand still in hers. It only reminded her of the unexpected knowledge that had startled Ikora enough to make this whole scene in the first place.
Eris lifted the hand that Ikora was not holding. It hovered in the space between them, and for a moment, Ikora thought that it would touch her cheek. Her eyes widened. But then Eris lowered it to their clasped hands and gently squeezed.
The rift centered on them collapsed in a puff of humid air.
"Perhaps we might...continue this conversation elsewhere," Eris said, releasing her and stepping back on the damp grass. "Think on your answer. I am curious to know it."
Ikora shook her head to clear it. "Of course," she said, not quite knowing what she meant. But she could not imagine denying Eris an answer. Not now. Not after everything they had been through together. Not less than a week after the fear of losing Eris had shaken her to her core, more deeply than ever before. "Have you found what you were looking for?"
Eris smiled at her. An actual smile, small but unmistakable. Undeniable. "I do believe I have."
They took a last long look over the vast plane of the seething wetlands, then left that gleaming conscious world behind.
#ikora rey#eris morn#erikora#eris/ikora#ikoris#destiny 2#destiny 2 fanfiction#season of the witch#destiny strand#lizzie's adventures in writing#lizzie taking up space#fic#long post#synnthamonsugar#write about ikora long enough and your fic will turn into a philosophy dissertation jflkdsa;skdlfd#this prompt has been living in my head and inbox for MONTHS.#delighted to finally share with you all as im quite proud of it.
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
What if Kaveh's child became a talented sculptor/painter like in their teens? Say like 15 or so? Idk. That second part got me thinking so much abt them just tugging Kaveh by the arm to their next project like "OMG YOURE GONNA LOVE THIS ONE IM SO PROUD OF IT SPGUEJGEJLVWLHELHEJ"
artistic inclination.
summary. what if kaveh's child was artistically inclined?
trigger & content warnings. none applicable.
tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. fluff. adoptive dad!kaveh & reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns used for reader. this post is an expansion of what if kaveh adopted a child?
author's thoughts. GOD YOURE SO RIGHT ANON I LOVE THIS IDEA ITS SO CUTE..... guys. i BEG of you. please send me asks like this. i adore when this happens. getting asks about any of my ongoing series is an absolute delight. requests are always always always welcome, but this kind of ask? this kind of ask is my favorite type fr <3
kaveh's kid does absolutely end up being good with their hands, whether that's because of the time they spent with the forest rangers or simply because they lean in favor of artistic hobbies, and kaveh himself? he is overjoyed. the fact that [name], his [name], seems to have some inherent inclination towards the arts... archons. he loves that about them. it's like they were always meant to be his child.
he loves that his kid's first instinct is to run to him when they have a sort of creative breakthrough. he loves that their first instinct is to tug him by the arm and show him what they've made, even if there's still wet paint or clay on their hands because really, it's just a shirt. it can be washed. stains are just stains. he honestly understands on a very personal level; he gets paint all over himself, too. things happen.
it's worth it in the end, because he just loves them so dearly. their joy is his joy. their sorrow is his sorrow. their feelings are his. he resonates so deeply with the emotions of everyone around him, so you had better believe that his empathy increases tenfold for his own kid. he feels their feelings as if they were his own.
he understands their joy beyond the influence of his empathy, though. as an artist himself... he's so unbelievably honored that their first instinct is to share their work with him.
art is like a little window inside the artist's mind. the things they create give their father a deeper understanding of who they are, how they think, how they feel, why they think and feel that way. an artist sharing their work is an earnest display of vulnerability.
kaveh is so enamored with the way they are so willing, so eager to be vulnerable with him in such a sensitive way, especially in their teen years. he's heard a lot of things about raising teens; teens are supposed to be... difficult, aren't they? however, [name] just isn't difficult in the slightest.
...
well, children tend to be a reflection of the parent(s) they are raised by. [name] can be sassy and sarcastic, courtesy of tighnari and alhaitham's influence, but... they aren't difficult. they are kind and emotionally aware and warm and gentle.
overall, kaveh and his little co-parenting friend group did very well raising [name].
"baba, come look! i finished that project i was telling you about. it took me a while, but i finally did it!"
this happens multiple times on many different occasions, but kaveh's reaction never becomes any less enthusiastic. it doesn't matter what may be occupying his mind at that moment. he treasures their openness and could never so much as imagine disregarding their joy in moments like that. he always replies with a smile, wiping away a little bit of semi-wet paint that somehow ended up on their cheek.
kaveh only ends up smearing it more, but the gesture is sweet and appreciated nonetheless.
"ah, really?! i'm so proud of you. i know it can be hard sometimes. let me see what you've made this time."
please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!
#aphelion brainrots 🌸#: [ adoptive dad kaveh! 🌸 ]#favoniuslibrary#astronetwrk#platonic genshin impact x reader#platonic genshin#platonic genshin impact#platonic genshin x reader#kaveh x reader#platonic kaveh x reader
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
graham/reader • and i love him
hmmmmmm so
i wrote a lil smutty n angsty gra/fem!reader fic set in the late 90s and im kinda proud of it ‼️
👉🏼 👈🏼
this is my first work for the blur fandom and im Nervous bc i haven’t been writing for a while and english is not my first language but hope u guys enjoy it anyway - if you enjoy it enough i’ll post it on ao3 too, aight? also this hasn’t been beta’ed by anyone so yeah. also feel free to send me a message if u want to beta it in case you wanna see it there. aaaaaaaaa
tw: alcoholism
You haven't been sleeping very well these days.
Any noise, no matter how insignificant, would wake you up. When there weren't noises, there were nightmares that you were losing him - those were the worst nights. Many times you woke up crying because everything was so real, and you couldn't have peace even in your moment of rest.
Sometimes it was difficult to love him.
The memories of the long lazy days you spent watching TV, painting each other's backs and tasting all sorts of bizarre treats he brought from the different countries he travelled to with his band were gradually replaced by memories of corrosive words exchanged between the two of you and moments where either you or he ended up crying in each other's arms - out of shame, out of despair, out of frustration. But that didn't mean that you were loving him any less, just that your individual tribulations sometimes got too heavy even to share.
You knew he was going through a very difficult time, but he didn't open up to you very much about it and it frustrated you on a level that you could barely describe. Being in a serious relationship was something so new to you, and it helped you so much in your bad times, and you just couldn't understand why he didn't trust you like you trusted him. "It's not that I don't trust you, you're the most important person in the world to me," he'd typically say. "It's such a terrible feeling, and I just want it to go away. I don't even like to talk about it."
This is the same thing he says to you with teary eyes as the hot water in the shower wets your skin and his. For the third time that week, you had to help him, without even having the opportunity to take your own clothes off, to take off his clothes that smelled unbearably of alcohol and sweat and to take a shower. You no longer had the strength to argue or lecture him, and your silence of resignation somehow seemed to hurt him even more. He tried to bring up other subjects and remind you of good things, and your throat seemed to close more and more. Before your eyes could also fill with tears, you just left a small, shaky "Gra, please... let's just get this over with." escape from your lips. He got the message, maybe. And he agreed to have his hair washed in silence.
After you help him dry off and choose clean underwear, sleep got the best of him and then it was your turn to take a shower and try to sleep. You swore he was asleep a long time ago, when, just before you fell asleep, you heard an almost whispered, fragile "I love you" coming from the other side of the bed. It somehow hurt you more than it should - it's been so long since you've wanted to hear it from the man you truly know - a sober Graham, a little unsure of himself but a guy with such a full and gentle heart. You knew that his problem with drinking was not just the search for overcoming that insecurity, but a constant attempt to escape from the reality that, years before, he thought he wanted to be part of. And as for that, there was not much for you to do. But you still missed it so much in another context, in what now seems to be an eternity ago.
By some miracle, you did not wake up in the middle of the night due to some noise caused by Graham or due to some nightmare, but only in the morning thanks to the sunlight illuminating your face. But Graham was no longer on your side, and you closed your eyes, sighing. Another long day without him among thousands of rehearsals and concerts and meetings and photoshoots he had to attend, which anticipated yet another long night of ill-resolved fights.
"I'm terribly sorry for fucking up again." And then you opened your eyes. There he was, now with a shirt over the underwear you chose for him, his voice as low as ever. Without his glasses.
Finally, the Graham you knew. Your eyes light up and you move to get up from the comfortable bed you shared when he interrupts you. "No, stay right there."
"I've been missing you." You say with an almost whiny voice, a faint but genuine smile taking over your expressions. "Don't you have *anything* to do today?" You ask, as he pulls out a camera to photograph you in your current position - messy hair, while wearing only his t-shirt. You don't hide from the clicks. After being satisfied with the result, he positions himself between your legs, and you spend a few minutes in silence in that position, face to face, just reading each other's expressions so closely.
It was very difficult not to love the beautiful boy in front of you.
"I do." And with that, he places a very soft and loving kiss on your lips, which slowly incorporates the latent desire burning on both of you. It's so good not to taste the alcohol, just the mouthwash with the touch of a cigarette that he just smoked. He only stops after a few more long pecks, calmly brushing away some of the strands of hair off your face, "I'm sorry for being such a cunt. Things are being very difficult for me lately."
You look away from him so you don't cry. This subject really breaks your heart. "Things are very difficult for me too."
He calmly brings your face up to look at him again. "They don't have to be. I don't want to make you go through this. I swear I will try to get help."
This is not the first time he has said this. But you pretend to believe him. And this time, you start the kiss, a little more fervently than before. Perhaps this is a silent agreement between you two. You feel something slowly grow beneath you, and you move against the feeling, making you both gasp softly in the middle of the kiss. The lips part, and then he looks into your eyes deeply again, both foreheads touching - as he silently asks you for permission to make it up to you. You just nod between heavy shared breaths. He goes to kiss you intensely, albeit very lovingly, while slowly lowering his hand to your clit, where he begins a slow circular movement. You close your eyes, and he pleads, quietly – “Keep looking at me, love”.
Gradually, you start to grind harder against his talented fingers, and when he realizes that your body is prepared enough (and quickly expresses it to you - "fuck, you really missed me", making your cheeks burn), he inserts two fingers into you, while insisting on the circular movements that delighted you so much. You're having goosebumps and you slowly feel that delicious wave of heat build up in you as he continues with his movements. You surprise him by kissing his neck slowly between timid but sincere moans that gradually escape from you. His voice trembles with arousal. "This is all about you, love. But that's quite nice." When he feels your body stiffen, and hears your moans become more urgent, he stops his movements and gives you a kiss on the cheek that borders on mockery, giving a small laugh with your grunt of protest. He mutters a small "Be patient baby, please. Come on my mouth instead.". Graham's hoarse voice in your ear almost kills you. He raises the hand that was stimulating you in an absurd way seconds before to lift and remove your shirt, basking in the sight of your breasts - hands sliding down your sides, he lifts your chest to his mouth, which makes you happy but it does not meet 100% of your needs. He knows that. And he wants to take his sweet time while his talented tongue takes turns between each of your breasts for a while, eliciting smaller moans from you but still giving you so much pleasure.
Honestly, what a view. His big brown eyes, when not closed due to his determination and focus on making you feel good, sometimes fixes on yours and the cloud of attraction between you two almost becomes tangible. Then, he quickly lifts up to give your mouth a sensuous kiss while his hand then makes its way down your body, taking a detour at your already sensible breasts to grab one and give it a slow squeeze. "You're so fucking beautiful. I love you." His pure adoration for you drips from his voice, and you feel like you're about to burst from how much in love and horny you are.
"I love you too."
He gives you that goddamn smile that melts you every time before he lowers himself again, this time placing his head between your thighs while snaking his arms above them, trapping you in what is about to be a hell of a great time. He begins on an exploratory pace, then gradually starts eating you out with passion, though not forgetting to be gentle enough so he doesn't hurt you or seems inexperienced. That he *really* isn't.
He moans deliciously on your clit the moment your grip on his hair tightens - he loves it when you're rougher with him, a sub at heart, really, though he's undoubtedly getting better at dealing with your more submissive side lately. Your body is reacting in the prettiest ways, and he recognizes it's the time for his fingers to be inside of you again. You have to contain yourself not to wake up your neighbors with the sound of your excitement, and you bite your finger. You can't help but buck your hips in response to the stimulation. “Gra–God. I--I need to--”
“Keep still, darling. I know what you need,” His eyes are gleaming with mischief when one of his hands moves to rest on your waist so he can hold you in place. It's too much, and when he hears your quiet pleas and sees your back arching and the frozen expression of pure pleasure in your face, he intensifies his movements and you freeze - your legs twitch and he lets you ride your orgasm freely on his gorgeous, hungry mouth.
You looked down to see his chin was resting on your stomach as he gazed up at you with *that* infatuated look that suited him so well along with the cheekiest smile - he keeps his thoughts to himself before his suggestion makes your satisfied smile grow even wider: "Let's spend the day together. I still feel like I owe a lot to you.".
#graham coxon#alex james#damon albarn#dave rowntree#blur#britpop#smut#imagine#reader insert#graham coxon x reader#graham x reader#y/n#angst
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
my valentine | th headcanon
requests are now closed
Summary: how much Tom cherishes you for Valentine’s Day.
Warning: just a cheeky kind of fluff 👀
A/N: happy valentine’s day to everyone, taken or single beauts out there! 🌹🌹🌹 enjoy this day with the people you love so much - lover, other half, friends, family -, that’s the most important 💞✨
masterlist
the day slowly begins with waking up to breakfast in bed prepared by mister Tom Holland himself
the smell of tea/coffee and a kiss on the temple both awake you from the deep and restful sleep you had
wait... when did he put this vase full of red roses on your bedside table?
“good morning, beautiful”
the tray is filled of delicious food: grilled french toasts, pancakes, fruits salad, butter and jams, hot beverages but also fresh orange juice
you can’t stop your stomach to express itself at this delightful sight
and let’s be honest, the handsome man you are proud to call your boyfriend carrying the tray looks rather delicious too
once you sit cross-legged on top of the sheets, Tom places the tray in front of you and then joins you on the bed, almost tackling you with kisses all over your face
you both share breakfast while feeding each other and trying your best to not get too messy
but eventually as soon as the tray is empty, Tom can’t resist the urge to give you “a little treat” before your day really begins
which basically means his head between your thighs for half an hour (*cough*)
after a nice shower (and some funny steamy time in there), you both dress up and get ready
you actually booked the entire morning at a nice golf club parkour outside London
of course Tom is excited to show off his golfing skills to you
on the other hand, you want him to (finally) teach you how to play
let’s say there are more sneaky touches than actual golfing lesson, and a lot of laughing too
later you go to the restaurant of the golf club to have some lunch
Tom is being a true gentleman such as opening doors for you, taking out your chair for you to sit and so much more
you share your plates like two lovebirds because that is actually what you guys are
after that, you guys decide to go back to downtown London
the afternoon is spent by going in literally EVERY single shop, even if you are not buying anything
the happy laughers continue on and on
at some point, you drag Tom into a clothes shop you particularly appreciate
and when you thinks of having lost him in some aisle, you find him at the lingerie section with already three new sets for you
by now you know the boy has no shame regarding that kind of stuff, his signature cocky smirk proving it to you
the sun now setting and your hands full of shopping bags you guys go back to his car but as you think you are going back home, Tom drives to a specific district of the city
you ask Tom along the way trying to know where you guys are going but the boy wants to keep the secret until the end
“be a good girl and you will see, darling”
damn this boy and the petnames he uses on you
also he puts his hand on top of your thigh and never take it away until he parks the car
in fact Tom booked a table at the fanciest italian restaurant in town
aka your favourite restaurant
he precisely asks for a table apart from the others for a more intimate and romantic atmosphere
this time there are a lot of eye talking, you guys are such a flirt even after a few years together
showers of compliments, cheeky remarks and innuendos here and there
and also hands linked over the table and legs intertwined under the table
before desserts, Tom surprises you with a promise ring and you try your best to not cry and not jump on him with other people around
you guys eat your desserts quite fast because the sexual tension from today is now at its climax (no pun intended?)
as soon as Tom deals with the check, he takes you by the hand and you both run to the car chuckling like teenagers
you don’t how you made it home safely but you fortunately dit
the way to the front door is quite chaotic, the intense make out session you began once out the car making it hard to see where you are going
finally opening the door and stopping Tom from undressing you when still outside, the boy lifts you in his strong arms and slams the door behind you both
the night is still young and boy it sure will get freaky under the sheets
you know you will get neighbours’ complains tomorrow but really, who cares tonight?
🏷 Permanent tag list & mutuals 💖 (get notified)
@allegra-writes @tom-holland-is-spiderman @detroitbydark @blissfulparker @farfromhaz @xxtomxo @worldoftom @charismas-world @stiles-banshees @americaxo17 @zabdisamor @princezzariel @mcuassemble @thatweirdomimic @juliebean247 @harryhollandwhore @spiderbibby @intiate03 @himynameishooman @bookworm06 @flowerboyparker @miraclesoflove @eridanuswave @jillanaholland @mendes-marvel @biebsmylife95 @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @tsh-darling @popbubblegumpop @fanficscuziranout
#tom holland#tom holland headcanon#tom holland x reader#tom holland x reader imagine#tom holland imagines#tom holland imagine#tom holland one shot#tom holland oneshot#tom holland scenarios#tom holland reader#tom holland reader insert#tom holland fluff#tom holland smut#fluff imagine#fluff#mature#headcanon#oneshot#imagine#valentine's day#special
367 notes
·
View notes
Text
| ,love james | an imagine
Sirius x Reader
Desription: (Really sweet, in my opinion and im rather proud of it) James gets tired of the amount of time reader is spending with Sirius and figures out a way to break the two up.
W.C: 1.8k+
Warning: Eh not really
Requested
0000
James huffed as he played with his snitch, once again Sirius was off with (y/n). He hadn’t minded that much at first but it was like they were always with each other. He barely saw Sirius and even between classes she dragged him off somewhere for a snog or a bloody quickie.
Remus suppressed a smile as he leaned against the tree, book open, “ Is everything alright, James?” he asked, a sandy brow raised.
James let out an even heavier huff, “ Just peachy, that leech with (y/h/c) hair is an absolute Padfoot hog!” he cried in disbelief to both Peter and Remus who shared a look, as if the two had heard this a hundred times before, “ I mean at first it wasn’t a big deal-,”
“ Easy, Prongs,” said Remus in a mild voice, “ You wouldn’t want Sirius to hear you talk about (y/n) like that,”
Jame’s mouth dropped, “ HE’S NOT EVEN AROUND TO HEAR!” he stated before pulling himself up, the cogs in his head turning at top speed, “ And I’m going to do something about it!”
Remus let out a sigh and looked at Peter, “ This isn’t good is it Pete?”
Peter smiled lazily, “ Might as well sit back and watch, you know it’s not a good idea to get in between a married couple,” he quipped staring at James’s back as he marched up to the castle.
Remus only nodded, “ Look at you, Pete, using your head for a change,”
-
James racked his brain for an idea to break the two up, make Sirius think she slept with someone? No, too messy, same going the other way around. James might have been an ass but he wasn’t a dick, well that’s what he liked to think anyway.
He paced back and forth around his dorm until an idea- a brilliant idea hit him like a bolt of lightning. An evil glint appeared in his eye as he pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill.
(y/n) was a fairly sought out after girl, much like Sirius- he guessed that’s what drew the two together, so this idea was genius. He would write a boy in Ravenclaw, Benjy Fenwick, a love note posing as (y/n).
He took a deep breath and with his left hand, pressed his fingers together before doing what actors did before getting into character, but he looked more like an angry Italian if anything. He was (y/n), and then he began-
“ Dear Benjy,
I have feelings for you but I don’t know how to tell Sirius, please leave your response underneath the gargoyle on the second floor.
, Love (y/n) “
The messy haired teen laughed maliciously, all he needed was a final touch and he knew just how to get it. Lucky for him no one else was in the common room besides first and second years. All he had to do was sneak up to the girls’ dormitory, grab her perfume, spray the letter, and get the hell out of dodge.
He tucked the letter into his pocket, grabbed the invisibility cloak and then hurried down the stone steps. He whispered the spell to the stairway, ensuring it didn’t become a huge slide when he tried to climb it.
He ran up the stairs, his heart racing at the thought of being caught. He made it to the fifth year dormitory and opened it slightly, peeking in to make sure there wasn’t anyone in there. He stepped into the room which looked- and smelled a lot better then his own.
He moved over toward the dresser and saw tubes of lipstick and eyeshadow palettes but no perfume- and then he saw it. On top of (y/n)’s trunk a small glass bottle that was tinted purple. Quickly, he fished the letter out of his pocket and basically hosed down the paper with it.
He set the bottle down and bolted.
-
The next day during Charms when Remus wasn’t looking he slipped the paper into Benjy’s bag, undetected. Now the only thing there was left to do was wait. He sat back, a frown gracing his handsome face. He was doing the right thing, yeah?
Sirius had to be miserable with that bird constantly up his ass, he’s just too scared to break it off with her- yeah! That was it.
-
Later that evening James made his way to the second floor, eager to see if Benjy had written back. He was not disappointed-
“ Dear (y/n),
I can tell you this is delightful news as I’ve had a crush on you for quite some time now, and as for Sirius, just break it off. But in the meantime, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
, Love Benjy “
Jame’s burst into a laughing fit which quickly turned into coughing as his eyes bolted around the hallway. He caught sight of a second year looking at him with wide eyes but they scampered off after he glared.
This was perfect, thank Merlin!
-
Before dinner James composed another letter, this time adding bit and pieces of not exactly PG rated ideas, and as he knew what the perfume bottle looked like and the name he could summon it easily.
He placed the letter back behind the gargoyle and then headed to the Great Hall, which unsurprisingly, Sirius was nowhere to be found.
-
James opened up his dorm to see (y/n) atop Sirius- naked.
“ BLOODY HELL MATE!” he screamed, his hands going to his eyes, “ REMUS STAY BACK! STAY BACK!” he repeated before slamming the door shut.
Remus huffed a laugh, “ Are they going at it?” he asked.
James shuddered, “ This is the fifth time I’ve walked in on them! I swear it’s like they want to be seen!”
-
It had been three days and James was getting impatient. He had been kicked out of his own dorm, blown off, robbed of a best friend, and his eyes assaulted far too many times! Enough was enough but the question was how to have this all come tumbling down.
He racked his brain for ideas as he walked down the corridor one afternoon but stopped when he saw Benjy looking out at Sirius and (y/n). His fists were clenched and his eyes narrowed as he sped towards them, “ Oi, Black!” he yelled.
Oh shit.
“ Gerrof her!” he said, pushing (y/n) behind him, “ She doesn’t bloody want you!”
Sirius’s eyes flashed and (y/n) looked confused as she shoved Benjy off of her, “ Excuse me?!” she sputtered, “ What the hell is your problem?!”
Benjy’s mouth dropped, “ What are you doing?! You told me you were going to break up with him and get with me!”
(y/n), Sirius, and James’s jaws dropped in unison at this sudden declaration.
Sirius spun around onto (y/n), his eyes full of devastation, “ Is...Is that true?” he whispered.
She shook her head frantically, grabbing his hand, “ No Sirius!” she gasped, her eyes pleading, “ You know me, you know I would never cheat!”
Sirius nodded his head but didn’t meet her eyes, he took her hand from hers and turned back to Benjy, “ Shove off and let her and I talk, you damn liar,” he growled.
James watched the whole thing go down with large hazel eyes, if this is what muggles called a soap opera then he just might get into watching them.
The blond boy faltered but reached down into his bag and pulled out the letter that had been sent by James, unbeknownst to him. James grimaced, things were about to get ugly.
Fenwick handed Sirius the letters, “ These were written by her, to me- smell them! She sprayed them with perfume,”
James rubbed his hands together as a fly would, but little did he know he was about to get smacked in the face with the newest rolled up addition of vogue, “ This isn’t her handwriting- nor is it her perfume,” bit out Sirius, throwing the letters back in Benjy’s face who paled.
Oh shit.
(y/n) picked up one of the letter’s and sniffed, “ This… this is Emmaline’s perfume,” she said, her eyes hurt. Jame’s eyes practically bulged out of his head, she thought Emmaline had done it.
His stomach soured as guilt made a home in his chest, the realization that he had not only roped Fenwick into his little play, but Em as well.
Fenwick bolted back up to the castle as (y/n) wiped at her eyes, “ Why would Emmy do this,” she sniffed, “ She’s my best friend,”
Sirius didn’t know what to do, “ I’m sorry love, but… it doesn’t seem like she is,”
James’ heart lurched as he replaced the names. He acting as Emmaline, (y/n) as Sirius, and Sirius as her. He had fucked up, royally.
She said something to Sirius who nodded. She started off toward Gryffindor tower while Sirius watched her go with sad eyes, running a hand through his dark locks before making his way to the hall for dinner.
James chased after her, “ Oi! (y/l/n)!” he yelled before she could reach the staircase. She stopped and turned to him with a curious look.
“ Yes, James?”
He opened his mouth but nothing came out, he struggled but in the end his voice came through, “ It was me,” he said quietly, “ I sent the notes,”
Her eyes widened and her hand went to her heart, “ What? W-Why?” she asked.
James rubbed the back of his neck, “ Because I was jealous and I felt like… I felt like you had stolen my best mate,”
Her eyes flashed with anger, “ Are you bloody thick, James Potter?!” she demanded, “ Steal Sirius from you? Are you kidding?!” she asked in disbelief, “ Sirius loves you so much! I could never steal him from you!”
James shrunk back, his eyes on the ground, “ I’m sorry I was wrong, but please, Emmaline had nothing to do with this, it was all me,”
She was silent, “ I appreciate your honesty, “ she murmured, “ But don’t think I’m not telling Sirius,”
-
James hung his head as Sirius yelled at him and afterwards he slammed the door, leaving James to feel horrible.
It was three days later and Sirius hadn’t spoken to him, and that was when (y/n) came up to him, a frown on her face, “ C’mon, James,” she said, “ Let’s go get your best mate back,”
-
Sirius was eating breakfast when a letter swayed down in front of his face, landing near his plate. It was addressed to him but didn’t have a name. The teenager opened it-
“ Dear Sirius,
I know you’re absolutely pissed at me but I just want you to know how sorry I am, I know I fucked up. I’ve apologized to (y/n) over and over and she had the idea for me to write you a letter… ironic huh? Once again I’m so sorry Padfoot, and I promise I’ll never do something as stupid as this again.
, Love James”
Sirius sniffed the letter and chuckled, that git had really sprayed it with his cologne. He looked down the table to find his girlfriend staring at him with a soft smile. He returned it, getting up to go find his best mate.
---
@writingwieny ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ⁱᵗ :)
140 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey! I have a request! Could you do a Poe x Shy Poet reader? The reader insecure of themselves and their work but one day decided to share their work with Poe , and how tries to make them feel better about their work? (If you need some poetry for the reader I’ve wrote some poems I can give you one! Even tho I’m also insecure about my work) Sfw but fluffy please!
Genre: SFW, Fluff
Tags: Confession, Comfort
A/N: Here it is, poe-is-bean! I hope the fluff is enough and you find it worth the looong wait. Thank you so much for sharing your own poems to me (theyre great) and I hope I did them some justice ;-; ENJOYYY~ ٩( ๑^ ꇴ^)۶
((EDIT!!! idk if the read more break can be seen on mobile but when i was editing, there's a break after the ask & idk how to fix it so im so sorry aaa))
***
The room is so empty
I can hear my own heartbeat
Day and Night
The sound of pencil on paper
It echos
I just want someone to talk to
Someone to hold me close
To make the room feel less empty
The words faded on the white paper as the ink on your pen ran out. You clicked your tongue and sighed as you look around the park you're sitting at. Just the cherry on top of your already dismal day, you thought.
It was a cloudy day but you squinted at the harsh light of the sun peeking slightly through the wispy clouds. You leaned back on the warm bench and closed your tired eyes. You slowly inhaled the delicious summer air but your chest feels as hollow as the tube of ink inside your pen.
"Karl! No!"
A voice suddenly rang from somewhere near and as you sluggishly open your eyes to peek, something heavy and fuzzy landed on your lap, causing you to shriek and jump from your seat. Your heart raced from the surprise, but as you quickly realized that it was just a raccoon who got attracted by the leftover peanuts you have on your side, you heaved a sigh of relief.
"No! Stop that!" A man with messy hair and an outfit that's undoubtedly too hot for the weather rushed to you. His eyes are barely visible through his dark overgrown hair but it wasn't able to hide the handsome features beneath.
"It-it's okay," you said shyly, mentally hitting yourself for stuttering. "He can have it. I don't mind."
"I really do apologize," the unknown man said, his voice low and trembling. He scratch his temple in embarrassment. "Karl is just crazy for peanuts lately."
You just gave him a meek smile and fiddled with the notebook on your lap. You thought about how cute it is that he has a pet raccoon, how cute it is that he named it with such a humanly name, and how cute he is.
Wait, what.
Heat rushed from your body and up to your face, feeling foolish for having such a thought with someone you just met. You hunched to hide your face, fearing the stranger would see the blush covering your cheeks.
"Can I sit with you?" He asked, snapping you away from your thoughts. "M-my name is Edgar, by the way. Edgar Allan Poe."
Your eyes traveled up his slender form. Despite his dark clothing, his timid and humble appearance made it easier for you to let him enter into your space. He thanked you and asked for your name in return. And just like that, your otherwise usual and grey day became colorful like the evening sky as you sat there beside him, familiarizing yourselves with each other while the innocent racoon eat the rest of the stale peanuts on the bench.
Is this a dream?
Is it real?
He was so close
Yet so far
We sat together for hours
The time was ours
But now it’s not
It slipped away
So quickly
Birds chirped around you as you looked up from your writing, searching through your surroundings and hoping to see the stranger once again. The more hours that passed, the more that you're starting to believe that it was just all somehow a vivid hallucination. You sighed in defeat and eyed another blank spot on your notebook. You thought about writing another poem about how sometimes, it's better to stay in an illusion than face reality because at least in your daydreams, wonderful things happen.
You pressed the tip of your pen on the paper to write the first letter of your work when all of a sudden, the ink bled all over the page, causing you to spat a curse under your breath. You quickly handled the situation, making sure that your clothes and the rest of your notbeook isn't affected by another one of your daily misfortunes. You groaned and pulled out the wipes out of your bag, aggressively wiping the stubborn ink blots on your hand.
"Um, are you okay, (Y/N)?"
You glared up to the quiet voice that called out your name. The tightness of your facial muscles from frowning slowly loosening up as you recognize the figure in front of you.
Poe's tall physique shaded you from the blazing sun and from where you are sitting, he looked just like a dream; a mirage that manifested out of your imagination and into your reality.
"I'm... I'm okay," you mumbled. Your heart thumped heavily against your ribcages as you remain frozen, your wide eyes glued to him as if you're scared that he'll disappear if you blink.
He flashed you a bright smile and gingerly sat beside you. Poe eyed the notebook on your lap and saw the familiar structure of the words on it.
"You write poems?" He asked with excitement evident on his voice, pulling you back to the ground. As Poe reached out to have a closer look with the item, you swiftly pulled away.
"Don't!" You exclaimed. The volume of your voice made nearby passerbys turn their heads on your direction and Karl critter on Poe's shoulder as if by surprise, too.
Poe was taken aback by your reaction as well but being a creator himself, he quickly understand that there is a certain reservation an artist have with its works. He understands the insecurity of being not good enough or questioning yourself as to why are you even trying when there's always someone out there that can do better than you. He knows the feeling very well.
"I'm sorry," he said calmly. "I know an artist's works are always very personal. I shouldn't have intruded."
Guilt spilled all over you and spread a bitter taste on your mouth. "I'm sorry, too," you sighed after a while. "I'm just not ready to show it to anyone yet. It's not your fault."
"I understand. I am a writer myself," Poe said with a gentle smile. "However, if the time has come when you've finally found the courage within you to be proud of yourself and your creations as an extension of yourself, it'll be my pleasure if you'll have me as the first person that would ever lay eyes on it."
Poe's words echoed to the deepest parts of your being. You felt bare to the bones, like everything that you've tried so hard to hide is just somehow exposed for him to see. Gone was his timid character and he's now exuding confidence; a sense of sureness in everything that can only come to people who has been through the ringer and survived to be an inspiration. Your eyes glistened to see another layer of his natural mystique unfold in front of you. Right then, you were filled with the hunger to know more, to uncover more, and to see more of his fascinating self.
Karl climbed down from Poe's shoulder, searched for something on his layered clothes and ran to your lap with an object wedged between his pointy mouth.
"It's a gift," Poe explained when Karl dropped an expensive looking pen in front of you. "I hope you never stop creating, despite of life's minor inconveniences."
"Would you meet me here again tomorrow?" You asked without you even realizing that you were speaking aloud and feeling the weight of your question only after it's done.
Poe tensed up on his seat. Your question was unexpected and it made his own heart raced for a reason he can't quite explain. However, seeing your eyes looking more alive than when he first met you delighted him and he gave you a humble smile.
"Karl has an appointment with the vet tomorrow," he said with his usual gentle voice. "But we can meet at the cafe nearby after."
Your heart soared way above the cloudless sky that day as a big smile stretched your lips and you felt like you haven't smiled like this for a while now. You accepted his invitation and noted the place and time on your notebook. For the first time in a long time, you felt thankful. You thank yourself for being able to push the words out, albeit almost unconsciously, and you thanked life. Despite the mishaps and blunders it brings you everyday, it gave you the opportunity to meet someone. A someone who made you look at everything in beautiful colors you don't even see before. You view everything so differently now; everything including yourself.
Months have passed since that fateful day and you still can vividly remember how your world shifted from then on like it was just yesterday. You meet Poe with any spare time you have and with every moment you spent with him, you got to know all of the layers of his being and in return, he got to know yours. You felt like you're rediscovering yourself as you open up to him. You felt freer. As time went on, a certain feeling crept up on you. It was a strange but awfully familiar feeling that sits inside your chest, like an everlasting bonfire that warms you up from inside out.
The paperback cover of the notebook crunched as you gripped on it tightly. Your mind is foggy with nervousness and immediately doubting if you've made the right decision to finally show him your poems. You shifted on the same bench you sat the first time that you've met and you waited for Poe, all kinds of imaginary scenarios playing in your head in the meantime.
"Hey, (Y/N)!"
You finally heard his familiar voice, a sound that no music can compare to. He was cheerily waving at you, you waved back and nervously greeted him. You laid peanuts on the bench for Karl and he happily hopped off of Poe's back to get on his treats.
"So, you've finally found your courage, huh?" He said before sitting down on his usual spot beside you. "I'm really proud of you, (Y/N). I know it wasn't easy. This is a big step for you and I want to thank you for choosing me."
Your anxiety dissipated in a snap. The flames on your heart grew bigger and brighter with his encouraging words. This tender moment solified your suspicion; you're absolutely, undoubtedly, sincerely in love with him.
"No, Poe," you replied, "I should be the one thanking you. You're the one who showed me that I have that courage inside me in the first place. I can't even begin to explain how you've changed my life."
"Well, that's what art is for, isn't it? To help us express what our words can't," Poe said, his warm smile never leaving his lips. "Besides, my words wouldn't mean anything if you didn't made the decision yourself. It's all you, (Y/N). Give yourself more credit, won't you?"
You beamed at him, the fluttering feeling on your chest continue to grow and filled every part of your being where you used to feel hollow. Your fears disappeared and you handed him your notebook like you're handing him your heart. Poe reached out for it, handling it as gently as you would a china doll.
You sighed contently and gaze at the clear sky above you as you let Poe flip through the pages of your notebook like you're letting him flip through the pages of your life. Every experience you've went through, every emotions, every secret thoughts and desires and everything that lead up to the person you are now; all of them contained in a single book.
Karl muched on the last peanut you laid out for him as Poe reached the last poem.
Love, what a beautiful thing
It makes my heart flutter
No matter how much I mutter
I always stutter
Those simple words
It races when he’s near
And falls when he’s far
Why can’t I tell him?
Poe's concealed eyes widened and his racing heartbeat vibrated on his whole body. He knows it's an absurd thought to assume the poem is about him but somehow, he was certain that it was. He thought that perhaps it's just wishful thinking brought by his delirious affection he's been hiding from you for a time now.
"You're really promising, (Y/N)," his voice wobbled as he said your name and he cleared his throat as he tried to give you a more constructive feedback. "I can really feel the emotions on your works. Every artist has their own way of making art and you shouldn't feel insecure with how you choose to express yourself. Art isn't about pleasing other people, it's only about you. If you're confident with yourself and your work, other people will reflect that. All you have to do is to stay true to yourself. And as far as I know, you are capable of making more beautiful poems, because you're beautiful."
The distant sounds of people and animals in the busy park rang as the both of you froze on your spots, equally taken aback by Poe's compliment.
"I–I–I mean, you're a great person, that's all," Poe stammered, full of worry for his well-kept secret.
You turned your blushing face away from him and chewed on your lips. Thoughts on whether you should finally admit to him your feelings rushed through your mind. Karl, finished with his snack, climbed on your lap and looked at you as if he's conveying a message. You know that he's probably just asking if you have any more peanuts for him but at that moment, you took it as an encouragement for you to tell him about the nagging feeling inside you that occupies every corner of your mind.
"The last poem," you told Poe while looking at the ground, "I wrote it for you."
Poe once again picked up the notebook, turned it on the last entry and re-read it. He felt like he's being choked out of air as he drowned on the exuberant joy he's feeling as he realized what you meant. His head whipped at your direction, looking at your fidgeting form and felt an urge.
He moved closer to you and gently called out your name. When you turn your head to face him, he reached out and touched your cheek. His finger traced along your jawline and ended on your chin. Although his eyes are barely visible, you can see the solemnity of his gaze and your heart skipped a beat.
"I feel the same way, (Y/N)," Poe confessed as his thumb caressed your lower lip.
You were happy. You were happier than you've ever been in your entire life and yet, your eyes strained as tears threatened to fall. You smiled at Poe and slowly closed your eyes, giving him the permission his gentle touches are asking.
Poe's lips closed in on yours and the rest of the world was quiet as you return his kiss, letting your feelings unravel and tangle against each other. Everything felt right, like every puzzle piece has been put in their place and the picture is complete. You felt the satisfaction, the pleasure, the joy and the pride. You finally understood why there are so many stories, poems, songs and artworks about love. It's just one of those things that can only be truly explained through art. One thing is certain in your head now: love, it is truly such a beautiful thing.
#bsd poe#edgar allan poe bsd#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs imagines#bungo sd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#bsd imagines#bsd headcanons#bsd scenarios#bsd hcs#poemw#bungou stray dogs scenarios
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Look! It’s [ BLUE WANG ]. They have been living in [ SOUTH ] Kingsboro for [FOUR YEARS ]. They say the [ TWENTY ONE ] year old can be [IRRESPONSIBLE ] but also [ CHARMING ], but I just think [ SHE ] looks a lot like [ COURTNEY EATON ]. ( Lo, 22, est)
TW: death, drugs, addiction, mental illness, overdose
Bio:
Blue Kora Wang was supposed to have a good life. The ingredients were all there; Two nurturing parents, plenty of money, nice brownstone in North Kingsboro, a wonderful twin sister. But if there’s anything she’s learned in her 21 years, it’s that God loves a good joke.
Her childhood was nice enough. Looking back on it, those years were probably the best of her life. She doesn’t remember everything, but what she does recall most was the love that she felt from her family Nothing much was wrong back then. She always thought that she was lucky.
Her mother, Georgie, was a music professor and retired harpist. From the time they were 3 years old, she taught her girls how to play and master the harp, both of whom, to her delight, were complete naturals.
Her father, Tamati, was an engineer. He didn’t come from money like his wife did, and always felt the need to prove himself. Working for his money gave him a sense of pride, so he wasn’t home as much in the beginning. But he was a kind man, and had always been Blue’s favorite person.
Her sister, Kaia, was her best friend. Having a twin was like sharing one mind - or one soul. They never fought, they always shared, they had each other and it was always enough. Her life was good - great, even. Until it wasn’t.
One morning, while their mother drove them to school, the girls were stuck by a truck. Blue doesn’t remember much from the accident, only the feeling of holding her sister’s hand before it all went black. She woke up in the hospital with some 15 broken bones and the news that her sister hadn’t survived. She was 13.
The hospital sent her off with a list of opioids to take for her pain. It never really went away. The night terrors didn’t either.
She stayed home from school for about two months after the accident to let her body heal. Her parents never said it, but she know they found it hard to be there. They mourned for two weeks before they both went back to work full time. Blue never held it against them.
She tried to distract herself with the t.v., books, or sleep, but nothing made her feel quite as good as the drugs the doctors had prescribed. All that time alone she spent in bed high out of her mind. She didn’t realize that it was a problem. Or at least, that it would lead to one. But in the time it takes an average person to wean themselves off completely, she was doubling dosages.
When she recovered, finally, she was back in her classes. But everything felt off without the drugs. She was jittery, nervous, irritable, tired, and had even worse night terrors. But she found a dealer at school, and the rest was history.
By the time she was 16, her parents didn’t really recognize her. She was hanging with a crowd who were no good for her, cut her hair short and dyed it a streaky blonde, and lost her spark that had since been so bright. At this point, she had tried almost every drug at least once. But after a while, she graduated from experimenting to dependence, taking pills every day and doing coke frequently. She knew it was to bury a depression that she’d been running away from for years and nightmares of pain she didn’t want to relive, but she didn’t plan on stopping any time soon. Her parents were scared that they’d lose her too - and soon at that.
The night before her 17th birthday her parents found her unconscious in her bedroom, the product of an accidental overdose. They sent her straight to a rehabilitation center for the summer in hopes that all of this would stop. And it did, for a little while.
In the period where she was clean (and bored out of her mind), she resumed school and even picked up the harp again. It felt good how natural it all came to her. Even she was surprised at how good she was. She poured all of her energy into it as a distraction, and with time even joined a local orchestra. Nothing big or fancy, but enough to get experience and clear her head. Her parents finally felt like they had their little girl back, and it felt good to be doing something that made them proud.
But this progress only lasted for about a year. The relapse hit hard, and she was in and out of programs for a little while. She missed rehearsals and concerts, and had to quit the orchestra.
Her parents divorced not long after. She’d blame God’s sense of humor, but she knows this one is her fault. They were never really the same after the OD. Her mother moved to Westchester to be closer to her parents, and her father moved to South Kingsboro where Blue followed. And that was that.
After graduating at 18 with fairly good grades, and with absolutely no prospects, she started working in diners to make money. Her parents bought her a small apartment in South Kingsboro as a gift, and keep their fingers crossed that she’ll do well by herself. So far so good, but she hasn’t been completely clean. Though, it comforts her to know that her father is only a short drive away if she needs him.
Things were fine for a few years, neither great nor awful, just - fine. She doesn’t hate it here, but she doesn’t love it. Mostly she’s bored, and with Blue, boredom is a dangerous thing.
On the night of her 20th birthday, after a few hours of drinking while out with some friends, someone offered her a pill (of what, she can’t quite remember). On the come up she got an idea that would not leave her. So, she rushed home, completed an entire application to Juilliard’s music program and fell asleep. In the morning she had forgotten the entire thing had happened.
She heard back from them a few months later, asking for an audition. She was shocked and almost didn’t go, but she did and they adored her. A few weeks later, she was accepted. Scared out of her mind, she chose to defer enrollment for the next school year. She still hasn’t told anyone about it.
She’s still working as a waitress. But she can’t help spending her tips on substances that she shouldn’t. She goes to NA meetings regardless of this though, as a promise to her father.
Personality:
She likes to be in the company of other people, and LOVES a good party, but isn’t the most open about her personal life or her problems. The less people know the better in her opinion, but she always gets a little loose lipped when the drugs kick in.
She’s very impulsive and doesn’t ever really think about the consequences of her actions until its too late and she’s in a mess.
She’s fairly friendly and very fun to be around most of the time. She’s got a flirty way about her (she's bi btw) and a wit that make it hard not to like her, but some of it is an act.
Blue can dance on the line of manipulative sometimes. You never really know if she’s smiling because she’s happy or because she wants a little favor.
She’s really self destructive, often intentionally acting against her own best interest even though she knows it’s wrong.
She’s really lonely and really wants the benefits of a lover or a close friend, she just isn’t comfortable with letting people know her on a deeper level.
Summary:
After an accident that killed her sister, Blue became addicted to drugs. After an accidental overdose, she was put in rehab and has been in programs off and on ever since. She’s a talented harpist, and was accepted to Juilliard after an impromptu application submission, but is too scared to go. She lives alone in South Kingsboro and is trying to sort her life out and not go spiraling. She private and doesn’t like to get too close to anyone, but is fun to be around even if she’s a little bit of a mess.
Come plot w me and we can work something out! Im litchrelly™ down for anything luvs like LITCHRELLY ™ anything. Exes on bad terms? Exes on good terms? Bad influences? Friends with benefits? Dealer/ buyer? An almost best friend that Blue constantly screws over because she doesn’t know how to be a good friend? Enemies? Does she know a secret about your char? Do you know a secret about her? Yum give it all and more
#this is kinda long lol#tw: death#tw: drugs#tw: mental illness#tw: addiction#tw: od mention#kingsboro.intro
1 note
·
View note
Text
CYBERVERSE WATCH: S3 Episode 13, 14, 15, 16
Episode 13
MACCADAM IS MY GRANDPA NOW
Jetfire!!! And Skybite!!! Skybite’s got a great laugh
Oh wow the cloaking still protects them? Nice!
CAN SOMEONE PLEASE FIX PERCY’S EYES, WHERE THE FRICK IS RATCHET
A MULTIVERSE DRIVE???
PLEASE...PLEASE LET US SEE OTHER UNIVERSES??? OTHER UNIVERSES PLEASE????
SPARE SOME MULTIVERSE STUFF FOR A POOR SOUL???
I mean as it stands, the fact that Cyberverse is talking about this stuff is more than satisfying, man I frickin love this show
“We can launch those squiggly things into a whole ‘nother universe!” his delivery of that line was so good and also Wheeljack pls, then it’ll be another version of you’s problem
MEGATRON REALLY *IS* POUTING, MEGATRON YOU BIG BABY
Maccadam fondly but watching them talk about their battle plans makes me feel so bad for him...
AW MAN IS MEGATRON GONNA CHUCK OPTIMUS INTO A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE
About time you showed up you big pouting pansy
Man these two totally were ex boyfriends
LMAO ARCEE AND SHADOW-STRIKER’S EVIL LAUGHS, THAT”S SO DELIGHTFUL
That Titan should just smack them out of the sky tbh
SKULLCRUNCHER THE CROC...NICE
I love that Soundwave and Roddy are manning the controls
“Commanders command. And you forget, we have backup” CUTE...CUTE....CUTE!!!
I’M SO PROUD OF MY BOYS!!!!!!
BEE!!!It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! I love my little yellow boy!!! Please take care of your dad Bee
OH NO IT”S CREEPY TENTACLE DOCTOR
GOTH GIRL AND PREP GIRL!!!
MAN I JUST KNOW SOMETHING’S GOING TO GO HORRIFICALLY WRONG HERE
FRICK NOT THIS DUDE AGAIN
AW MAN NOT A WHOLE BUNCH AT ONCE
YEAAAHHHHH WHEELJACK AND MEGATRON WORKING TOGETHER!!! NICE
Two Decepticons and one Autobot...not a good sign
Oh shoot it’s the DECEPTICONS who wanna universe-jump, MEGATRON COME ON DUDE YOU DIDN’T EVEN TAKE YOUR ARMY WITH YOU DUMMY
OH NO!!!!!!
“It’s time for the commanders to join the battle” MAN YOU’RE SO COOL RODDY (YOU TOO SOUNDWAVE)
OH SHOOT THERE GOES THE TOWER
WELL FRICK
DON”T “WE DID IT” HOT ROD YOUR DAD IS IN THAT WRECKAGE
“Quintessons: Inferior. Cybertronians: Superior” MAN I”LL NEVER GET TIRED OF THAT
HE”S SO COOL!!!!! FIST BUMP BUDDIES!!! Man I’m so over the moon that these two wound up getting along
You know I’m suddenly having a revelation: I wonder if they could somehow re-activate all those other Soundwaves to help them against the (inevitable) final battle I’m sure they’re gonna have
WHAT THE FRICK
ARE YOU FRICKIN KIDDING ME
Starscream: CANCELED, CANCELED, YOU”RE ALL CANCELED
Well, Megatron certainly got the heck out of dodge at the right time lmao
Episode 14
I legit thought they were going to do an ATLA ref for half a second
Oh my gosh is this an Autobot recruitment video???
“The universe. You ever thought about it?” GOSH THIS VIDEO....
I’m frickin cackling, the Quintessons were like “Hmm, what’s the worst thing we could possibly inflict on this planet?” then went “Oh, of course, Starscream”
WHY DIDN”T YOU JUST LET GO STARSCREAM
Wow Starscream really did just sell out his entire planet huh
SOUNDWAVE NO!!!!! JEEZ HE GOT EVERYONE
Jeez and Starscream has to share with two other faces, that sucks
Lmao Starscream is just like “Nah judging people is what I was born for”
UNSPACE??? UH OK
WAIT isn’t that what Wheeljack made a few episodes ago????
LMAO HE’S GONNA WAIT TIL HE CAN GET OPTIMUS AND MEGATRON TOO bless Starscream and his pettiness
“First I must witness their humiliation!” STARSCREAM PLEASE the Quintessons really got the worst Judge
OHHH WHAT’S HE GONNA DO
SOUNDWAVE YOU’RE SO POWERFUL!!!!!
OH NO HE GOT THEM AGAIN....
GOSH I ACTUALLY GASPED WHEN THEY BROKE SOUNDWAVE’S AUDIO THING, NO!!!
“Well, it did for one of us, and it only takes one Autobot to make a difference” Bee? Whirl??? Wheeljack???
WINDBLADE!!! EVEN BETTER!!! The person with the braincell!!!
I love that Rodimus doesn’t even look worried, he just sighs like “aw man not this loser again”
On the one hand: Worried about my boys
On the other: Man I love these two being buds
Also: Not To Be That Guy But it looks like Soundwave’s wearing white thigh-highs with little orange hearts on them and it’s VERY distracting
“You two work so well together!!!” OH NO OH NO OH NO ARE THEY GONNA FUSE THEM TOGETHER OR SOMETHING
THOSE HEAD MASKS ARE SO DISTURBING
uh oh what kind of loop is this
THE PLAGUE OF RUST OH NO
oh my gosh STARSCREAM’S MAKING THEM DO A BUFFING LOOP...THAT’S REALLY THE WORST THING YOU COULD THINK OF STARSCREAM....
“WHERE ARE MEGATRON AND OPTIMUS PRIME” well Optimus is under a pile of concrete, so
Lmao thank you for your peanut-gallery commentary Kup
OH SHOOT THEY DID JUMP THROUGH THE MULTIVERSE BRIDGE
MAN THAT LOOKS SO FRICKIN COOL???? YO SHOUTOUT TO THE BACKGROUND ARTISTS WHO WORKED ON THIS SHOW, YOU ROCK
SERIOUSLY IM IN LOVE WITH THAT I hope whoever did the background art shares their work online sometime, I’ll be ALL over that
AHH I ALWAYS FORGET HOW SHORT THESE EPISODES ARE
Excuse me, Jeremy Levy as WHO???
Episode 15
Kup you are an...interesting commentator choice lmao
MACCADAM..... :(
Windblade please save our favorite Grandpa
wINDBLADE!
HOW’S IT FEEL BEING THE COOLEST KID ON THE BLOCK WINDBLADE
Wait I *JUST* noticed the title calls this “Bumblebee: Cyberverse Adventures” ???? IS THAT NEW
CALL ME A SUCKER BUT WINDBLADE CRACKING HER NECK AND TELLING THE LITTLE SHARK DUDES TO BRING IT ON WAS QUITE POSSIBLY ONE OF THE BEST MOMENTS OF THE SERIES SO FAR
Windblade: *does anything*
Me: IM GAY
“I don’t do fear” GOSH I LOVE MY TALENTED GIRL
OH NO!!! OH NO!!!! WINDBLADE NO!!!!!
AND HER WINGS TOO??? WHY!!!!
MACCADAM HELP HER OUT COME ON DUDE WHAT HAPPENED TO NO FIGHTING
lmao rip at the dude crushed by the juke box
Wait I thought they already woke up Iaconus??
YEAH!!!!!!!! MACCADAM AND WINDBLADE TEAMING UP
“UNFORGIVABLE CRIMES AGAINST ME!” LMAO I LOVE THAT LITERALLY EVERYONE IS TUNING OUT STARSCREAM get rekt Starscream.
Not to rag on people who like Starscream because I like him too but me @ Starscream stans tbh
You guys just need to hold hands! I mean seriously, come on you guys!
STARSCREAM QUINTESSONS OMG I just noticed they’re all wearing Starscream’s colors pffft
AW.....MACCADAM’S FIRST HIGH-FIVE....:’) I bet Windblade and Maccadam both give the best hugs and best high-fives
They’re so cute MAN I love Cyberverse!!!! I love how sweet these characters are!!!
A psychic trap??? Hoo boy
Windblade: How do I defeat this psychic trap?
Maccadam: Well, it would help if you had any bug or dark-type Pokemon on you.
“Or you could just tell me!” I JUST SAID THAT TOO LMAO gosh I love the writing on this show
OHHH I LOVE THE CONTRAST OF IACONUS’ BRAIN WITH BEE’S BRAIN IN SEASON ONE, THAT”S SO GOOD
OH LMAO HE MEANT HER SWORD I thought he meant like “your inner-strength” or “your wisdom” NO HE MEANT “USE YOUR SWORD WINDBLADE” LOL
OHHH SPOOKY VOICE, I DIG IT
Wow Starscream’s really reading out his 1000 page long call-out post to a captive audience
LMAO THEY”RE JUST LISTING OUT DATE LOCATIONS
CHROMIA IS SO CUTE!!!!!!!! AHHH
OH NO ARCEE!!!!
I LOVE ARCEE, “HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT YOU BASTARD”
OH SHOOT JK I GUESS THEY REALLY DIDN”T TOTALLY WAKE HIM UP LAST TIME I was wondering why he was just an arm
TITAN TIME!!!
Episode 16
To toast the flares off a neutron star....cute....
Wouldn’t it be cute if Kup was telling this story to a bunch of baby Cybertronians
Awh....Maccadam I’m sorry your old Titan had to re-awaken :(
“Too bad I won’t know how it ends” OH NO ARE YOU GUYS GONNA KILL OFF MACCADAM???? NO!!!!
Iaconus looks frickin RAD I’m sure Hasbro will make a killing off his toys
Speaking of I really hope they release Cyberverse on DVD in a bundle-pack
“War Titan, do NOT ignore me!” YEAH USE YOUR MOM VOICE ON HIM WINDBLADE!!!
LOVE THAT ROCK MUSIC
“This has never happened before” now THERE’S an interesting tidbit
OH NO....ITS THE OTHER TITAN....CROATON....
on the one hand, I’m SO glad we’re getting the Titan battle I crave, but on the other, CROATON NO!!!
TRIFORCE BEAM!!!
I love that Windblade is Jaeger-ing this frickin Titan solo
WHOOPS THERE GOES THE STADIUM
“Optimus had a fight of his own...with gravity!” oh how the mighty have fallen Optimus lmao
I wonder how this wonky universe would handle a flier
JUST THROW A BUILDING AT A TITAN, NBD
SOMEONE PLEASE CATCH ARCEE
THANKS GRIMLOCK
THERE’S RATCHET Finally, I was wondering where he was
“Well it’s not my fault this won’t be a fair fight” OH SHOOT THERE IT IS!!! THERE IT IS
I can’t believe Starscream is trying to back-seat drive this fight lmao
SOUNDWAVE NO!!!! Oh thank goodness they’re ok
OH NO OH NO
IS THIS IT IS HE GONNA DIE?? MAC DONT GIVE IN TO FATE!!! NO!!!
MAC NO!!!!!!!!!! MAC YOU DIDN”T HAVE TO DIE NO!!! YOU LITERALLY DID NOT HAVE TO STAND THERE AND GET BLASTED WHY DID YOU DO THAT!!!!!!!
“My last citizen...he is gone” FRICK IM GONNA START CRYING
Quints
> Murdered Croaton's citizens most likely
> Enslave Croaton
> Inadvertently kill Iaconus' last citizen (WHICH HURT BECAUSE WE'RE MADE TO ASSUME IACONUS ONLY CARES ABOUT WAR BUT NO, HE LOVES HIS CITIZENS DEEP DOWN)
> BEHEAD IACONUS
LIKE, WHY YOU GOTTA STAB ME IN THE HEART LIKE THIS
Wheeljack you’re so smart but ALSO IM STILL CRYING OVER MACCADAM
“Hehe, you’re a nasty little fella” NICE JOB COWBOY
OH NO ALL THE SOUNDWAVES DANGIT I KNEW IT
AND HE”S A BIG LIAR HE DID HAVE SOME BLUE SOUNDWAVES
OH NO WHAT ABOUT WINDBLADE
HECK THAT”S SUCH A BAD PLACE TO STOP BUT I CANT WATCH ANY MORE EPISODES RN I GOTTA STAGGER THIS SERIES
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
starting anew!
hi! if by the odd chance you knew me from my old blog, i realized that i was restricted from carrying out a lot of functions i might want to in the future if i were to grow my blog (it was a sideblog to an old, 2013 blog i had and when i replied to comments or respond to asks it’d be as my primary). so instead i decided to create a new account so that lycho could be my primary blog! since i did have a few posts that i wanted to keep for history sake, this is just going to be a mega post of my past few posts:
apr 6, 2020 - the beginning
day 1 of my journey with ux!
frankly, i’ve been on this journey for the past two years (ever since discovering it) but i feel as though i haven’t made any real progress. i’ve always claimed i wanted to grow and learn more about the field, yet those goals never showed in my day-to-day actions.
this blog is a collection of my progress on this journey to keep myself accountable. the goal is facebook in a year, baby!
i know it’s super idealistic and quite tough for a second year like me who’s not even in a design program (business, actually). but i still want to try. i want to do something for myself for once.
that is why i am committing 4 hours everyday to honing my craft. whether that is learning about ux through watching youtube tutorials, skillshare course, or reading medium articles, or actually practicing the craft by making redesigns or wireframes, i will dedicate this time strictly to advancing my expertise within the field. and this blog exists to keep up with my every step of the way :)
apr 8, 2020 - website overhaul
today I worked on cleaning up the modularity of my existing website a bit, making use of consistent classes instead of hard-coding like i used to! oh how i love modularity!
small win: making a navbar that breaks out of the standard bounding box of the site’s content --> next goal is to make it a sticky navbar with js!
other than my website, yesterday I finished a skillshare course on user-centred design, albeit short, it was really valuable and it only motivates me to continue learning. I’m starting to realize how much I actually like doing this stuff and think it is something that really clicks and not just something im doing for the looks.
slowly but surely getting the hang of dedicated 4 hour time chunks to my craft - i failed yesterday and the day before (woke up around 9/10 instead of starting at 8:30) but today i did pretty well! took a short 20 min nap inbetween haha but I’m still proud of myself overall :)
it’s been pretty depressing and lonely lately with the quarantine (when the sun is shining so bright, teasing me grr..) but I want to get back into a routine and be productive although i do have my lazy days. it just overall makes me feel better because who knows how long we’ll have to live like this. might as well get used to it.
apr 9, 2020 - website overhaul
hi! so today i wanted to be very candid and share that i feel like i did fail today in terms of the goals i had set out for myself, though I reached 1/2 goals so that’s good! the first was to finish refining my website and publish it (check!), while the other was to finish the financial statements for my business assignment but alas that did not end up happening haha, but i forgive myself for it and know that tomorrow will be a new day!
I actually woke up early today (around 7:30, earlier than usual) and felt awake, yet mentally I just wanted to go back to sleep so I ended up getting up at 9:30. I then regretted it and beat myself up for it briefly for doing that, but I realized that I should let myself off in these strange times we’re all living in right now.
so, i think i really am going to get serious about my design journey! my only concern is that i feel like im stretching myself too thin - i have a full time design internship offer for this summer for a startup, as well as 2 leadership positions on clubs where I lead/work on the branding and design, but also at the same time I”m always at home so not sure what is reasonable and what is not. Because when I’m not doing that, I want to be self-learning, but I recently a discovered a mentorship program where I could be mentored by a startup founder to help scale her business, but again I feel like I’m stretching myself thin. though it’s a really good opportunity.
anywho, updates on my website like this post was supposed to be about is that i finally published it again after not liking how it looked before, and i think this revamp is a lot cleaner! proud of it. i try not to reveal many of my personal details on here bc i’m not sure who would actually be reading it, but this blog is just a way for me to track, myself, how i’m doing and to keep myself accountable :) i just didn’t want to set it to private cause it’s a hassle for me to always enter the password if i want to look at my blog.
lastly, i want to start consistently workout - and in the long term actually start a real blog where I write about my experiences, in actual coherent sentences! amazing. creative-wise i really want to start learning 3d illustration and blender, even though i’m an aspiring product designer but i just love 3d and motion, so idk might be stretching myself too thin again but i feel like I need to stretch my creative muscles this way and push myself as a creator. also starting the daily ui challenge again tomorrow after giving up a few months ago - haha!
let’s see how this one pans out :)
apr 10, 2020 - learning + starting anew
today i started two new things !!
restarted daily ui challenge after quitting a week in last year
started to learn blender ! !
i still feel like i failed today because i mostly sat around doing nothing OTHER than design, which just affirms to me that im truly passionate about this stuff for only having motivation to do it (or just a strong will against my homework for uni still....either way im taking it)
although i’m not that great at blender yet and felt frustrated during the process, when i got the end result i realized i like how it turned out despite it not being perfect, and it’s inspiration for me to keep learning and expanding on my skills :)
same with daily ui - i found that my approach this time compared when i literally knew NOTHING about ux was very different.
for example, something I already notice I'm doing differently from the last time is focusing less on decoration and more on practicality, actually naming/grouping layers and leveraging design systems, and injecting personality to make the experience delightful. I'm also limiting myself to two hours now (though this one took about an hour) so I have more time to do some research, sketch and wireframe before styling.
looking forward to a better day tomorrow! i might do a little less design (maybe just a daily ui shot) so i can focus on actually tackling the report i’m supposed to finish as well as study for an upcoming exam, so we will see! feeling good :))
1 note
·
View note
Text
remedy for a broken heart pt.2
nafla
genre: angst
word count: 3k
a/n. i’m sorry this look on nafla is superior don’t try to convince me otherwise. this part is soooo long im sorry but i hope its a good finish since you guys have been waiting forever for it.
with a little bit of this, with a little bit of that we gon be alright
Nicholas sighed in exhaustion, plopping down on the couch next to you. The current state of the small studio he shared with the rest of the boys reflected upon the amount of time he spent there, working on songs but never finding one that seemed to qualify his ideals.
“What are the stakes?”
“Hm?”
“I mean if I quite music... can I live?”
You turned to him, setting your phone aside. “Ask yourself... you’re the one who said music is your life.”
“I know... but I’m afraid people here won’t accept me cause I’m not one of their own.”
You laughed. “Babe, it’s always hard at first, I’m sure they’ll eventually learn how amazing you are and will look past the differences.”
“You know,” Nicholas murmured. “Jinyoung hyung suggested we go to Korea for a a while.” He knew he had peaked your interest with those words. “He knows some people there. If we can start a stable career, then it won’t be too hard when we come back here.”
You smiled with a bright “that sounds great!” but there was a hint of worry in your eyes. Nicholas liked that. “Jinyoung is always reliable, isn’t he?” you said, looking away for a second. Nicholas nodded in agreement; trusting Jinyoung would be the only right thing to do in any situation.
“So are you all going?”
“Me and hyung are gonna fly out first, then we’ll get the others to come.” You didn’t say anything for a while so Nicholas reached over to clutch your hand. “When I get back, you’ll be dating a real rapper.” He hoped these words could at least be somewhat comforting to you.
“I already see you as a real artist,” you told him with a smile.
“Dude, what’s the deal?” asked Daniel, walking into Nicholas’s room as he was getting dressed for the day. “Mina just asked me if she can stay in the guest bedroom for the rest of the trip... did y’all fight?”
“We broke up,” Nicholas told him plainly.
“What?” Daniel couldn’t hide his shock. “We literally here to relax and you guys went ahead and made your own drama.”
Nicholas sighed in irritation. “Daniel, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” The younger boy fell silent, and put his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor.
“Well damn... so did y’all break up break up or...” Nicholas knew he was referring to the ‘incident’ with you . It wasn’t something he was proud of, the fact that all his friends, who were avid supporters of you, were conscious of the whole thing.
“Fuck... I don’t know. Girls are so complicated.”
Daniel pressed his lips together. “Really, I think you’re complicated.” The two boys chuckled quietly, unsure of what was funny. “So you still up for tonight?”
“I don’t think it’ll be good if I came.. since Mina...”
“Bro, she’s coming too.”
“Alright, I’ll think about it.”
As Daniel was leaving the room, Nicholas asked him to keep quiet about the whole situation to which he respectfully obliged. Daniel was known to have a big mouth but he was also trustworthy and always had his friends best interests at heart. And with that thought, Nicholas found it might be easier to forget about everything and have a fun night out with the boys instead of moping around like this. His friends would be by his side anyway and maybe that’s what he needed at the moment.
Nicholas left the solace of his bedroom to join the rest outside. “Yo, Mina, I got smth for you,” said Jinyoung, walking over to where she sat next to Daniel. She looked up from her phone, trying to peer around Jinyoung to see what he had hidden behind his back. Nicholas also watched, trying not to look too unhappy.
“You know how you love Post Malone? Well, he’s in the city, performing tonight and we got you tickets.”
Nicholas saw Mina’s expression brighten as she took the tickets from Jinyoung and jumped up, shaking her hips in delight.
“Oh my gosh, you’re the best!” She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Daniel pulled her back onto the couch.
“Don’t get too excited, you’re going with Owen.”
Mina’s lips parted and she rolled her eyes. “Ugh, are you serious?”
“I heard that!” Owen called from the kitchen to which Mina gave Daniel a sheepish look and he grinned, ruffling her hair.
Rather than being envious of the way his friends treated her, Nicholas found himself feeling sympathetic. Mina had a way of hiding her emotions ― much like you ― and she was too obviously pretending she didn’t care about what had happened earlier that morning. Her pretense had worked for her in the past but Nicholas knew her too well.
That night, Jinyoung and Daniel came into Nicholas’s room, informing him that they were leaving and if he’d like to join. “Can I come a bit later? I’m just not feeling it right now,” Nicholas told them, hiding away under his covers where he had been napping in all afternoon after a tiring shopping session with daniel.
“Bro, you’ve been sleeping all day, what’s wrong with you,” said Daniel, trying to pull his blankets off but Nicholas held on to them tightly in fear his friends might see his phone open to your instagram page which he had been scrolling through for the past hour.
Jinyoung just sighed. “Daniel, leave it. Don’t force him to come.” Nicholas looked at him with grateful eyes and Jinyoung nodded. “I actually gave Mina those tickets so she’d leave you alone tonight,” he chuckled and Nicholas threw a pillow at him. “But you can join us whenever you’d like.”
“Thank you, hyung.”
When everyone left, the house was quiet and Nicholas hated how lonely he felt right now, but he brought it upon himself . He reached for his phone again, refreshing your instagram page to see that you had updated your story.
Hesitantly, he brought his thumb on top of your profile picture, swallowing hard as your story opened up to reveal a picture of you with your arm draped around an unfamiliar girl, a bottle in your hand, your trademark million dollar smile plastered across your pretty face. You had tagged “Avalon Club” and Nicholas realized it was the same club his friends were going to. That’s why Daniel wanted me to come so bad.
Nicholas closed the story and went through your instagram posts once again. You had changed a lot and the posts showed it clearly. There was a gap in dates wherein you hadn’t posted at all and the posts from before the gap were of him and you, years of memories locked in a couple photos that had been buried under the more recent ones of you looking happier.
“Call when you land, alright?” you said, pulling away from the hug with Jinyoung. You asked him since you knew Nicholas would pass out and forget by the time they go to Korea.
“Don’t worry, I will,” Jinyoung replied, fixing his beanie that had almost fallen off from the contact. You finally moved to Nicholas who was waiting for you with open arms. He pulled you against him, burying his face in your hair ― little did he know, it would be the last time he’d get to do so.
“I’m gonna miss you so much,” you told him with a little pout. Nicholas saw that you were trying hard to hold in your tears and he pulled you closer again so the others wouldn’t see. “Don’t you forget about me while you’re there, okay?”
He moved back, cupping your cheeks. “How could I ever forget about you?”
But the truth is he could, and he did. After going to Korea, Nicholas found himself busier than he would have expected. He made sure to keep you updated for the first couple weeks but after one or two hectic months, he couldn’t find motivation to pick up his phone and call you. His busy schedule kept him occupied but even when he was free, it seemed there was no time for you.
Besides that, Nicholas’s new life presented him with extravagances he could never have imagined of in a thousand lifetimes, nor could he refuse them. Although he had done a very selfish deed and couldn’t muster up the courage to face you after that.
But the girls that went back and forth from Nicholas’s room didn’t pass without the knowledge of his friends who thought he was being sus and questioned him about it. “Did you break up with Y/N?” asked Jinyoung.
“Uhhh...”
Jinyoung shook his head. “I did not expect this from you... seeing how attached you were to her, I thought you’d be begging to go back to America everyday.”
“Calm down, she’s prolly in another guy’s pants right now too.”
But both men knew you weren’t like that. Nicholas didn’t bother sending a breakup text because you had probably forgotten about him as well. However, you didn’t feel that way at all.
When the crew returned to America after gaining some popularity, you were still there, hitting nicholas up with instagram messages which he didn’t find it in himself to even open because at this point, ignorance was bliss.
And it seemed like the eye contact he made with you on his first American stage spoke a thousand words, none that either of you could ever speak to each other. To this day, that look still haunted him. It wasn’t any normal “breakup” if you can even call it that. Because sometimes, he found a part of himself was still with you.
Nicholas must have watched your story about a million times, staring at the picture of you for so long his eyes began to hurt. He couldn’t stay here any more. He was pathetic.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Daniel smirked when Nicholas finally arrived at the club. He had already drowned his self-pity in a few drinks when Daniel and Jinyoung found him seated at the bar.
“Having fun?”
“We should be asking you that,” said Jinyoung, propping his elbow on top of the counter. “You look down... was it Mina?” At this, Nicholas’s head snapped toward Daniel who shook his head quickly.
“I didn’t say anything, I swear.”
“Mina told us you guys were having a fight in the car while we were dropping her off,” Jinyoung explained. “What’s gotten into you?”
Nicholas sighed. “Yeah... it was my fault not hers. Did she tell you we broke up?” His relationship with her was on a thin line.
“Uh no, she said you guys were ‘on a break’ or sum like that.”
Though slightly disappointed, Nicholas was relieved that she didn’t want to leave him altogether. His heart already felt weak at the thought of losing yet someone important in his life again.
“By the way... Y/N’s here,” Daniel said quietly. “We wanted to tell you so it doesn’t turn out like last time.” Nicholas faked surprise but in reality, he knew all too well your whereabouts.
“That’s nice... I don’t really feel like talking to her right now, though.”
“I guess you gotta tell her that yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
Jinyoung cleared his throat, getting up from his seat. “Don’t look now but she’s walking right towards us.” Nicholas froze. That means you were probably right behind him. Nicholas and Daniel smiled and waved at you over Nicholas’s head and then gave him a look before walking away.
“Hey stranger.” Your voice was soft, almost like a melodic tune. He hadn’t heard it in what felt like ages.
Nicholas turned around. “Y/N! I haven’t seen you in forever! Wow, I can’t believe you’re here!” Was that too much? Who cared, he’d already messed up whatever image of himself you had in your mind. You hugged him but it felt like the distance between you two increased and it was like he couldn’t even feel you.
“I came to your concert but I guess your friends didn’t tell you I was there,” you said, sitting down in the seat next to him. “I figured if you did see me, you would have talked to me but you didn’t so...”
Nicholas laughed in embarrassment but inside a piece of him died. It seemed he had been too obvious with his hesitation. Or maybe he was just an asshole. The latter seemed quite accurate.
“Anyway, you are you?”
A mess, Nicholas could reply. But instead he said, “I’m good... I mean, I’m better than better.”
“How’s life as a celebrity?” you asked, laughing. Nicholas couldn’t bring himself to look at you but your laugh felt like medicine all it’s own.
“Wellll, I don’t really feel like one.”
“Really? You sure do act like one.” You murmured the last part. Was this your way of saying ‘fuck you’ to Nicholas? Perhaps Nicholas was thinking about it too much. He needed to drink a little more.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked and you shook your head.
“Nah, I was leaving with my friends right now actually... then I saw you.” You started to get up, taking your bag with you. “I’ll see you around then.”
You can’t seriously let her leave like this, Nicholas thought to himself as his chest tightened. This may or may not be the last time he’d get to see you. A part of him wanted to remain that selfish and stupid self and let you go your way, as if just seeing you was closure enough.
But it wasn’t. The conversation was riddled with tension and if he hadn’t known any better, you were surely throwing shade at him for what he had done. If this was the only way to get rid of the guilt, Nicholas had to at least try.
He gulped down whatever was left in his glass and then stopped you. “Wait, Y/N! You got a minute?” You shrugged, sitting back down, clutching your purse tightly. Nicholas took a deep breath.
“Listen... I don’t want to do this all over again,” he said quietly. “I just want to say I’m so sorry for being the worst boyfriend ever... and for being a dick and-”
“Nick,” you said, cutting him off. “I forgive you.” Nicholas fell silent. Those three words didn’t give him the relief he thought he’d get. A lot of him thought that you’d tell him you missed him and that you waited for him all this time and that you still love him.
But none of that came.
“Seriously...? Just... like that?”
You pressed your lips together. “I mean, what do you want me to say? That I still have feelings for you and I want to get back together?”
It sounded weird out loud the more Nicholas thought about it. “I just wanted closure... I mean, I’ve been kinda thinking about it and it was unfair to you.”
“Just forget it, Nicholas. You said you were ‘better than better’, what now?”
“Maybe I was lying,” he murmured and like that the stony expression on your face crumbled, softened to your glowing features as you stared at the glass surface of the counter.
“Maybe I’m lying too,” you said. “I mean, I know I said I forgave you but sometimes, I sit down thinking of you and I hate you.” Nicholas chewed on the bottom of his lip as you spoke. All this time he’d been worrying about his feeling and his guilt that he never thought about you.
“I hate you for not coming back for me when you promised me you would. But you know what, you have new friends, a new girl, a new life... who am I to tell you you can’t enjoy that?” You sat back and then looked at Nicholas and Nicholas looked back at you. It was the first time you two made direct eye contact and it didn’t feel like a knife piercing through him.
“The last time we were together, I couldn’t help thinking of the future and...” you swallowed hard, taking Nicholas’s hands in yours. Your hands were just as soft as Nicholas remembered. “I knew that this would happen because I know you, Nick. I still let you go and maybe it was stupid but I was right.”
Nicholas held your hands tightly. “I wish that I could go back and change things... I swear I’m not like that any more.”
“Maybe you’re not,” you said, reaching up to touch the side of his face. “I hated you for what you did but I admire you for being able to sit here right now and at least tell me how you feel, even if it’s two years later. You’re not who you used to be, I know that.”
“That’s all I want,” Nicholas whispered. “To know that you don’t hate me.” You smiled and exhaled softly.
“I don’t. And I’m not holding this above you, Nick. We were so good together but we ended and that’s fine too. The best way to move on, though, is to let go of what you can’t control, let go of the past, Nicholas. The universe will align itself.”
There were some days when Nicholas felt suffocated just thinking about you.You two didn’t end on good terms, if you had ended properly at all. But if this was the last goodbye, then Nicholas felt himself healing a little bit.
You slid off your seat and kissed Nicholas’s lips. He couldn’t give in and kiss you back, but neither did he have the strength to pull away.
“There. Now we officially broke up,” you giggled, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you later, or maybe I won’t. Don’t beat yourself up over me.” You began to leave with your friends and turned around one last time to wave goodbye.
It felt like a certain weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Nicholas didn’t feel guilty anymore, the chains around his ankles were finally free.
He took out his phone and texted Mina. “I’m sorry for everything.” Nicholas got a reply almost immediately, giving him the impression that Mina might have been thinking of him too.
She texted. “I know, love.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
#nafla#nicholas#mkit rain scenarios#mkit rain scenario#mkit rain imagines#nafla scenarios#nafla imagines#loopy#bloo#khiphop#khiphop scenarios#khh imagines#khh
121 notes
·
View notes
Text
Paris, 1840
It was in the early days of the year 1840 when Monsieur Nicolas Barré, a young, moderately successful novelist fell in with Augustin Perrault and his group of friends. Perrault, done with University, was pursuing a career in journalism and met M. Barré for work related reasons. The working relationship quickly turned into friendship (a quick and easy thing with the young journalist), and soon enough, over a shared glass of wine, Perrault invited him to meet up with the rest of his closest friends.
‘I must say’ Nicolas huffed, clinking his glass against Perrault’s ‘Whatever you told your friends about me, they better lower their expectations. Sure I’m a delight, a true treat to have around’ he winked ‘But political I am not. Not nearly as much as you are.’
Perrault waved his hand in airy dismissal.
‘Never fear. You are no monarchist, and that is all they need. Clavier is more hands-on when it comes to politics but the rest like to hold such issues at arm’s length. No one will begrudge you for not keeping a pet guillotine in your backyard.’
Nicolas chuckled and refilled their glasses.
‘So you’re telling me buying a closetful of red caps to impress them was a waste? Ah well. Now, we are men of the pen, you and I, even if we employ our words quite differently. How about the rest? All writers?’
‘Alain Clavier certainly is, he’s a playwright. Well, in theory at least. In reality he’s a true Renaissance man, doing all things Theatre. Manager, designer, stand-in actor, all of it. René Giraud is an engineer, or rather, currently an assistant to one, Yves Belarbre is a painter. A portraitist, but he has some novel ideas about painting dreams, you’ll see.’
After a couple of more glasses Perrault announced that he still had some obligations to attend to. Just as they were about to part, he turned to Nicolas.
‘I must warn you about one of my friends though, Giraud. He has some peculiar habits, but the one that most concerns you is that he’s rather picky about who gets to touch him. He’s going to allow a handshake, but do not attempt anything more. If he takes a shine to you, he will come to you in his own time.’
Nicolas smiled and nodded, although he did not understand why he needed such a warning – certainly he was affectionate, but nowhere near as much as Perrault, pawning at random strangers was usually not the first thing on his mind. Surely keeping his hands off of one would not be much of a hardship. His nonchalance regarding the matter lasted exactly until the moment of meeting the man in question. René Giraud was on the shorter end of average height, thin and tired looking and, at least in Nicolas’ humble opinion, utterly adorable. He had fluffy, white-blond hair and big, pensive blue eyes.
They did not get to talk too much that first day – as Nicolas later learned this was not simply because Perrault and his friend Alain Clavier dominated every single conversation they took part in, but also because of Giraud’s own quiet nature. Still, all through the evening Nicolas kept sneaking glances at the man and, to his immense satisfaction, found himself being watched in turn. Just before the company disbanded for the night, Giraud sidled up to him. He cocked his head to the side and spoke, eyes fixed on the floor:
‘What do you call a medical-minded dog?’
Caught off guard, Nicolas scratched his beard.
‘I have no idea. What indeed?’
‘Un physi-chien*’
Nicolas blinked. For a moment he was not sure if he truly heard what he did, but René was watching him expectantly out of the corner of his eye. Nicolas’ big body began to shake and soon he was howling with laughter. Giraud, proud of his work, bounced on his heels and smiled, blushing with joy. Nicolas raised his hand to clap him on the back, but caught himself in time and hastily showed his fist into his pocket.
He wiped off his tears. That was it. He needed to win his René-touching privileges as soon as possible.
***
It was the end of May, but the weather resembled the worst of August and Nicolas was painfully stuck. Again. His serialised novel was running out of pre-written chapters at an alarming rate, he needed to catch up with it and soon. He could practically feel his editor breathing down his neck. He was sating at a blank page. In fact, he had been doing just that for the last half an hour, but the words stubbornly refused to manifest. With a deep sigh of defeat he donned his lightest coat and hat. If inspiration would not come on its own, the best he could do was to try and seek it out. After a brief consideration he headed to the Louvre.
He regretted his decision to leave the flat the moment he stepped out of his building. The streets were scorching hot, vibrating above the cobblestones. Dust filled the air and the sun was so blinding, that without the straw hat to protect his eyes, Nicolas doubted he would be able to see a thing. Still, he steeled himself and faced the inferno of the city.
He was richly rewarded for his effort – the inside of the museum was shady and blessedly cool. Few people took the effort or had the time to drag themselves here at his hour, so it was also mostly deserted. He sighed again, this time in relief, and was about to zone out and let himself get lost in the centuries of art surrounding him, when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a familiar mop of blond hair. René Giraud was sitting on a bench, an open notebook in his hands, though when Nicolas stepped closer he noticed he was staring at his feet rather than at the pages. He started when Nicolas greeted him.
‘Ah, hello there, Monsieur Barré! I mean. Nicolas.’
Nicolas smiled and plopped down beside him. He was pleased René was finally gave up on the formal ‘you’ with him, even if he still called him by his surname sometimes.
‘You must be quite the patron of arts to cross the city on such a wretched day just to look at pictures! Or are you, like me, in need of inspiration for something?’
‘Neither, I’m afraid’ René answered. He kept his gaze on his notebook. When they first met Nicolas wondered if he did this because he did not like him or was especially flustered in his presence, but had since come to learn that this was simply something he did with everyone. Avert his eyes or, remembering that you ought to look people in the eye, fix his unblinking gaze upon you.
‘I am here exactly because the day is wretched’ René went on ‘My quarters are unbearable and so are the streets. Everything seems to be so much more intense in this horrible weather. The people are loud and irritable and they stink. I stink, the horses stink, I can barely see, everything is bleached white by the sun, even the sky. It’s either white or that unsettling shade of lilac.’
‘Lilac? I never noticed that.’
‘It is though. A pale lilac. I find it deeply disturbing. Here though…’ he looked up ‘Here it’s cool and quiet and the smells are subdued. I like this place.’
‘Still, it must be boring to just sit here. Walk with me?’
Nicolas thought of offering his hand as they got up, but René was on his feet before him. They wandered the halls in silence for a while. Nicolas knew his friend was not exactly loquacious, but he wondered if this silence was stretching too far. Testing the waters, next time he spotted a particularly interesting painting he stopped before it and quietly started to explain what he knew about it. With others, he tried to guess what the artist might have meant, making up stories on the spot, one wilder and more colourful than the rest. René mostly kept quiet, but seemed to be enjoying himself none the less. Every now and then he inserted his own small remarks or chuckled lightly at Nicolas’ jokes. Encouraged by this, Nicolas was gaining momentum, spinning one astounding, ridiculous tale after the other, compensating for the low voice he kept with sweeping gestures and exaggerated expressions. Soon René was pressing his hand against his mouth, his whole body shaking with the laughter he desperately fought to hold in.
And then he froze.
His smile faltered and slowly disappeared as something behind Nicolas caught his eyes. Nicolas turned, following his gaze.
They were standing in front of a large painting. The canvas was populated by a crowd of figures, faces and bodies contorted by the pain of grief. In the centre, a male figure, a warrior, cradling the body of his fallen companion, face twisted into a mask of anguish.
‘Achilles and Patroclus.’ René whispered.
Nicolas nodded. He waited for his friend to turn away and move on, but he seemed to be hypnotised by the painting. They stood there in silence for a long while, before René finally spoke again.
‘I envy him, in a way.’
‘Who? I cannot for the life of me think of a single enviable character in that story.’
‘Patroclus. How much Achilles loved him, unashamed. He was no dirty little secret.’
It took the both of them a moment to fully realise what he just said. René, scrambling to save face, blushing so fiercely it was visible even in the dim light of the museum, and rushed to continue:
‘I-I mean it’s a touching story no matter how you look at it, I mean, anyone would be grateful for such loyalty from a friend…’
Nicolas took a deep breath and, momentarily forgetting himself, laid a hand on René’s arm. The little engineer froze. Nicolas quickly released him.
‘I understand.’
René peered up at him from under his curls.
‘Do you? Truly?’
Blood was rushing into Nicolas’ face and he suddenly felt very light and somehow detached from his body, as if he was watching the conversation from afar. Still, his friend laid his soul bare before him, if only on accident, he had to know he was not alone.
‘I do. I understand what you meant.’
René kept his big eyes fixed on him for a moment then slowly, so slowly, reached out and laid his hand on his arm. Nicolas’ heart leapt to his throat – carefully he raised his own had and covered René’s with it. They held the connection for a second before René stepped back. He cleared his throat.
‘I must be going now, I have some plans I need to double check. Thank you for this afternoon.’
‘My pleasure’ said Nicolas, eyes fixed on his toes ‘See you back at our café?’
‘Yes. Yes, certainly.’
***
Nicolas wondered if things will change between them and indeed, there was a small but noticable shift in their interactions. Nothing dramatic – unlike Augustin, Nicolas still was not allowed to just walk up to René and cuddle him. Though of course he never tried. Still, at least René would now touch him every now and then. Nothing too personal or overly familiar, rather he simply did not go out of his way anymore to avoid contact. Nicolas tried a little bit of flirting but as the engineer did not respond – or even seemed to notice his attempts – he soon ceased.
It was now July, and Nicolas was in the middle of revising his latest chapter (or more precisely re-arranging the bookshelves while thinking very hard about how he should be revising said chapter) when the knock came. He left the bookshelf somewhat begrudgingly – he was hard at work, creating, how dare people hinder his genius! – and went to answer it, grumbling all the way. He schooled his features into what he hoped was a polite but slightly haughty expression and he opened the door.
The corridor was empty.
Nicolas rolled his eyes – was the half a minute it took him to get to the door truly too long a wait for his visitor? He was about to retreat when he noticed a sheet of paper at his feet. A message then? A prank? A strongly worded appeal from his editor? It turned out to be neither. It was a poem. It was not written in pen, but in letters carefully cut out from a newspaper and glued to a sheet.
TO THE LOVE I DARE NOT NAME
FROM THE SHADOWS I SING YOUR PRAISES
SCRAMBLING IN VAIN FOR THE RIGHT PHRASES
YOU ARE ROUND AND WARM
LIKE THE SUN IN JUNE
THE COPPER OF YOUR HAIR
IS THE CAUSE OF MY DESPAIRE
HAVE MERCY ON ME, O MUSE
He read it – and read it again. And again. It seemed to be a sincere if terrible love poem. Nicolas tugged at his beard. Was this dedicated to him? The mention of the subject’s bodily proportions and hair colour suggested so, but he was still uncertain. Humming lightly, he folded up the paper and got back to work. He resolved to show the strange little letter to his friends and thought nothing of it for the rest of the day.
When he did in fact pull the sheet out on their next get-together, the reaction of the group was, in the mildest possible terms, explosive. Alain ripped the letter out of his hand and studied it for several minutes, muttering to himself all the way through, before he was forced to relinquish it to a nagging Augustin, and then to Yves. René, reserved as ever, did not attempt to grab for the page, but followed the proceedings with eager eyes.
‘Well then’ Nicolas said ‘What do you gentlemen make of it?’
‘Why, my dear fellow’ said Augustin, leaning back in his seat ‘It is quite obvious. You have a secret admirer!’
Nicolas propped his chin on his hand and laughed.
‘Well, there’s no debating I’m a right catch, any lady would agree I’m sure, but don’t you think it more likely that this would be a nervous amateur trying to show his work off? Maybe try and get a foot in the door of publishing through me?’
Yves waved a hand with a little huff of dismissal.
‘Quite unlikely. If this were a poet interested in getting his name known, surely he would have included just that: his name! No my dear, this is quite obviously a love-stricken if unusually daring and forward lady!’
‘A true little firebrand!’ Alain exclaimed.
René remained quiet. Nicolas searched his face with a slight flicker of hope for any sign that he might be the one behind it, but then dismissed the idea. He could not picture him resigning himself to such bold a move.
‘All right then’ he said, folding up the sheet ‘I suppose my best bet now is to wait and see.’
And see he did. The very next day, about the same time, the knock sounded again. Nicolas, hard at work on his novel (he was cleaning his windows), took some time to answer, so the mysterious visitor was long gone by the time he got to the door. In her – his? wake he left an elegant box of high-end pralines. Nicolas inspected the gift for a message, but found none.
Well then. This certainly seemed to underline the ‘secret admirer’ theory, opposed to the ‘hopeful amateur poet’. Smiling to himself, Nicolas plopped a piece into his mouth and retreated. Excitement was starting to bubble up in his belly – who could this be? Sure, he had his secret hopes for a certain engineer, but with all his loveable qualities, René just did not look like the type for grand romantic gestures. Who else then? Nicolas made a list of all the ladies and gentlemen he knew, but found it entirely unhelpful. He had half a mind to drop everything and go seek out Augustin, even though they were not meant to meet up that day, but decided against it. The group regularly met on Tuesday and Friday nights, sometimes on weekends, and it was only Wednesday. Let’s not rush anything, let’s wait and see what happens next!
Thursday brought him a nice set of steel-tipped pens, complete with ink, all tied up with a bow. Now Nicolas was all but crawling out of his skin with excitement and resolved to catch the person responsible in the act.
On Friday he was fully expecting the knock, but he made a fatal mistake. The weather turned damp and cold, so Nicolas decided to make himself a cup of tea as he waited. The problem was only that his visitor was a full hour early compared to the previous days, so he had a kettle full of boiling water in his hands when the knock came, and by the time he managed to carefully put it down without spilling any of it on himself, his mysterious suitor was gone again. In their wake they left a bouquet.
Nicolas snatched it up and inspected it excitedly. It was a nicely arranged collection of reds, blues and yellows. On a whim, Nicolas quickly averted his eyes. He was keen to find out what message might be coded in there in the flirty language of flowers, but he wanted to decipher it in the presence of his friends. He placed the bouquet in a vase and resolved not to look at it for the rest of the day.
It was an excruciating exercise in temperance and patience and he came close to failing several times, sneaking glances at it every now and then, but miraculously he persisted. Still, it felt like the longest day of his life. He tried to proceed with his writing, but his thought kept floating back to the mysterious gifts and the sound of footsteps fading in the hallway.
When the clock finally struck five he practically flew out the door and did not stop until he reached their café, the Poule Rouge. René was already there, nursing a cup of coffee at his usual seat. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Nicolas flung himself down beside him. He looked up – only be greeted by a mass of flowers shown in his face.
‘From your admirer?’ he asked around the clump of vegetation.
‘I’m assuming yes!’ said Nicolas, leaning in close ‘What do you think?’
René regarded him solemnly for a long moment, then looked down.
‘I think it’s pretty. It has happy colours. I think whoever gave it to you wanted you to be happy.’
Nicolas could feel his lips stretch into a grin. He was about to answer but Alain’s booming voice cut him off. The man entered with Yves on one arm, Augustin on the other. Nicolas held up the bouquet like a trophy.
‘Well, well, well’ said Alain as he slid into the seat across Nicolas and pressed a cup of wine into his hands ‘What have we here?’
The three newcomers – all experts in courtship and all the delicacies it involved – pulled the bouquet into the middle of the table and began to pour over it. Nicolas watched in excitement, but his enthusiasm began to falter as their faces fell. After a couple of minutes they sat back and exchanged some deeply confused glances.
Yves scratched the back of his head.
‘Well this… All right, let’s see. The good news is the cornflower, which means wealth and fortune, the yellow rose, which stands for joy and friendship and the blue iris for faith and hope. But we also have marigold for jealousy and yellow carnation for disappointment and rejection. Also red poppies which mean consolation. So. There’s that.’
Alain propped his chin on his hand.
‘It might not mean anything at all.’
‘No no no, let’s not give up on this so quickly’ said Augustin ‘The lady went out of her way to play this intricate game, surely there must be some sort of message in there. So what do we have? Wealth, friendship or joy, consolation, hope or faith but also jealousy and either disappointment or rejection. This to me speaks of someone who was for some reason disappointed in you, but who values your friendship more than her pride and has hope in repairing your relations. It’s simple!’
‘I don’t think that’s it, not at all’ Yves objected ‘Look at this closely! The poppies and the yellow carnations out-weight the rest – to me, that says the sender has been disappointed to the degree she wants to now part ways. She includes the rose, the iris and the cornflower as a reminder to why she started this game to begin with, but does not wish to continue.’
A heavy lump settled into Nicolas’ throat. Still, he tried to hide his disappointment, so he arranged his features into a smile and laughed.
‘Well, I suppose we shall see about that. We’ll find out if she truly wishes to quit before long – tomorrow at the latest. If the gifts cease I can assume the lady truly meant it and lost interest.’
Soon the topic was changed as Augustin brought up a play he was interested in seeing and the rest of the evening was spent with amicable chatter, though René excused himself early. He had not spoken a single word all evening and after a quick round of goodbyes he hurried away without explanation. As he retreated Nicolas could have sworn he had seen him rubbing at his face.
Nicolas for his part was crestfallen. The presence and chatter of his friends took away the edge of the blow but he was sad to see this interesting affaire come to an end. Not to mention he had no idea what he did wrong to put off his secret admirer this much. With one last sigh he downed his wine. Ah, well. It was nice while it lasted.
The next day he all but managed to put his disappointment out of his mind, though a shard of it was still lodged in his heart like a persistent thorn. He tried to concentrate on his work, failed, tried again, failed, gave up and went for a walk. He went all the way to the Jardin de Luxembourg in hopes of clearing his mind. He was in great need of that – he wrote himself into a corner and had no idea how to rescue his own heroine. Sadly the fragrant air of the park failed to deliver any flashes of inspiration, so with a heavy heart he returned to his flat.
He was almost through the door when a flash of red caught his eye.
A red rose was lying on his threshold. Nicolas carefully picked it up and turned it over in his hand. There was a note attached to it, composed in the same manner the very first poem was, of letters and words cut out from a newspaper.
I HAD NO IDEA FLOWERS MEANT THINGS. THIS IS WHAT I MEANT.
Nicolas stood there, rooted to the threshold for a long time, grinning.
Now he was almost certain of his mysterious admirer’s identity, but still, he was curious about the reactions of his friends. When he entered the tavern the company gathered that night he held aloft the flower like a banner of victory.
‘Confess, gentlemen’ he said ‘Which one of you tattled?’
The rest looked back at him with wide, all-too innocent eyes.
‘What makes you accuse us so?’ Alain asked in the high-pitched, affronted voice of a man who had carried the gossip over half of Paris already. Nicolas showed him the rose and the letter attached.
‘That doesn’t prove anything’ Yves muttered, though he too was reluctant to meet his eyes ‘Your lady may have learned of her mistake independent of our conversation yesterday.’
‘But in such short a notice? Gentlemen, if not someone you passed the news on to, I’m forced to believe it might be one of you!’
Yves and Alain protested loudly, Augustin did not comment, merely shook his head with an amused grin. René, Nicolas noted with some cautious hope, was beet red and refused to move his gaze from his drink.
***
The next week went by without further communication from his suitor. Nicolas was beginning to fear he might have scared him (…or maybe her) away. He was close to despair when finally, on a rather wet, gloomy Saturday the tell-tale knock sounded again. Nicolas raced to catch him, but as usual, his visitor was quicker. He left a letter behind, this time written in ink but in all capital letters so Nicolas still could not recognise the handwriting.
DEAREST,
MEET ME AT THE PÈRE-LACHAISE, AT THÉODORE GÉRICAULT’S TOMB, ONE O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON.
This time he did not wait for the agree-upon get-together, he flagged down a coach and raced all the way to Augustin’s lodgings. Luckily he found the man at home and, upon being let in, quickly pushed the letter into his hands.
‘Look at this!’
Contrary to his exuberant enthusiasm so far, Augustin frowned and scratched his head.
‘This could be very good or very bad news. All through this little adventure I had a feeling that all this is way too daring, shameless even, for a lady.’
Nicolas did not wish to draw unneeded attention to the fact that he was quite all right with the mysterious suitor being a man, so he merely hummed his agreement.
‘Still’ he said ‘What’s the worst that might happen?’
Augustin raised an eyebrow.
‘You could be ridiculed at best, robbed or even killed at worst. You will be in the middle of a graveyard. Secluded, with plenty of places for the members of a gang to hide.’
This gave Nicolas a pause.
‘None the less’ he finally said ‘I want to know who is behind this.’
‘At least permit me to go with you!’
Now it was Nicolas’ turn to frown and tug at his bear.
‘A kind offer, but I must decline. Actually…‘ he took a deep breath ‘I have a good idea who this might be, and in case I’m right, I do not want to compromise this person.’
Augustin chuckled lightly and swatted his arm.
‘A true gentleman! Very well then, but promise to be careful!’
Nicolas smiled and pressed his hand.
‘I promise!’
***
The graveyard was all but deserted – Nicolas came across a couple of elderly ladies, the sort that is a permanent fixture of cemeteries all over the world, but none of them paid any attention to him. Though he did ask for directions at the gate it still took him a long time to find Géricault’s grave in the dense labyrinth of tombs. When he finally did he found the scene deserted. Not a single sound, except for the distant murmur of the city beyond the graveyard’s walls. His stomach fell. Was all this an elaborate prank? All this for nothing? And the culprit would not even stick around to witness his humiliation?
He dejectedly kicked a pebble and was about to leave when there – just there behind the edge of the massive block of the monument – he spotter the rim of a top hat. In two quick strides he rounded the tomb.
René Giraud was standing there hunched over, dressed in his best dress coat and shiniest shoes. When Nicolas came to stand in front of him he made an attempt to raise his head and look him in the eye but the task proved too much for him. The rose clenched in his hand was trembling. He wordlessly held it out.
Warm fondness bubbled up in Nicolas’ chest. He yearned to pull René into a hug and never let him go again, but he knew better than to grab him without his consent. He took the professed rose and opened his arms. René shuffled closer, fisted Nicolas’ vest and hid his face in his chest. Slowly, carefully Nicolas completed the embrace. He took off his friend’s hat, set it and the rose aside and gently ran his fingers through his hair. René was trembling from head to toe – Nicolas could only imagine how much courage it must have taken him to go through with this plan. This courage evidently carried him to this point and no further. He looked ready to collapse on the spot. Nicolas held him tighter and began to rock him slowly, continuing to pet his hair.
They stood there for a long while, locked together in an embrace, gently swaying from side to side. Nicolas nuzzled René’s hair. The heart fluttering against his chest started to calm down a bit. Eventually René snuggled against him and spoke up.
‘I’m sorry about the first bouquet.’
‘Don’t be. I think it was beautiful, artificially assigned meanings be damned.’
René giggled and pulled back just enough to be able to rub the back of his neck. Not daring to initiate any other contact just yet, Nicolas quickly nuzzled his nose. René took a deep, shaky breath, latched on to Nicolas’ lapels and pecked him on the lips. Before Nicolas could react he ducked his head again.
Still carefully, as to not scare him away, Nicolas slid a finger under his chin. René allowed this and obediently tilted his head up at Nicolas’ gentle push. Emboldened, Nicolas cupped his cheeks and pressed their foreheads together. After a small pause he tilted his head to the side and kissed him. René’s lips were velvety soft and a little wet – he was clumsily pushing back against Nicolas, evidently unsure of what he was supposed to do. Nicolas slid his hands down onto his shoulders and moved on to kiss a line along his smooth cheeks and jaw. They broke apart, stepped back a bit – and dissolved in a fit of nervous giggles. Nicolas tried to stop but the laughter only intensified, relieved and yet slightly hysterical. Face burning, stomach flipping, Nicolas wiped at his wet eyes and swept René back into a tight embrace. René flung himself into his arms without hesitation. Nicolas smacked one more big, sloppy kiss on his cheek.
‘Sweet René’ he murmured ‘My sweet René.’
*un chien = a dog
#writers on tumblr#mm romance#writeblr#lgbt fiction#historical fiction#fixa writes#rené giraud#nicolas barré
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
golden hour part VI
golden hour masterlist
Pairing: bucky barnes x reader
Summary: a series of moments when everything sparkles, shines and glitters, just like it’s gold.
Warnings: none!
Word Count: ~1600
A/N: if you couldn’t tell, im a sucker for the fall. Enjoy!
Once you found out that Bucky had never been to a pumpkin patch, a haunted hay ride, had apple cider donuts or even been apple picking, you were determined to change that.
Steve swings the door to his and Bucky’s shared apartment and narrows his eyes at you. You stare right back, waiting for his suspicious eyes to ease up.
“Good morning, Steve,” You smile at him despite his obvious hesitance, “Ummm...I’m not sure if you’ve got a sweet tooth like Bucky’s, but I baked some chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies. And made some dark chocolate bark. Buck told me you don’t have any peanut allergies to worry about.
“Enjoy.”
“Uh, thank you,” Steve Rogers might be wary of you but Sarah Rogers didn’t raise him to be impolite, “You like the fall?”
“Yeah! It’s my favorite season,” You reply enthusiastically, “Something about the leaves changing and the cooler air just feels nostalgic, you know?”
Your heart is racing a million miles a minute and Steve can hear it. He intimidates you more than a little. You’ve voiced the hunch you have that he doesn’t like you to Sam and Bucky but they are insistent that that is not the case.
You don’t quite believe them. Which is why you’ve brought treats to bribe Steve’s affections and sway him in your direction. You really want him to like you and it’s been upsetting you that he’s held you at arms length.
“Yeah, I like the fall, too. My ma used to make this amazing apple pie. It would just melt on your tongue,” Steve says wistfully. His eyes are less guarded and your shoulders slump minutely in relief.
“Oh! I’m not that great a baker, but I’d love to try baking an apple pie,” You jump at the opportunity to impress him, “Apple pie is my favorite.”
“Me, too!” Steve exclaims, “You gotta have it with ice cream, too-”
“Yeah, with vanilla ice cream,” You agree, “It’s the best combination on the whole planet.”
“Even better than cookies and milk?” He asks it so innocently, that you have to laugh.
“That’s a tough one,” You pretend to ruminate on the question for a few moments. Just then, Bucky emerges from his bedroom after hearing your voice mingling with Steve’s voice. Seeing you and Steve smiling together... Nothing makes Bucky happier.
Steve is just protective of him, and understandably so. You understand that, you really do. But you still want him to desperately approve of you. Approve of you as Bucky’s girl.
The smile you give Bucky once you catch him walking towards you is a smile that he can proudly say he’s gotten used to. It still brings him to his knees, but he doesn’t get as nervous around you.
He can hear your heartbeat speed up ever so slightly. It comforts him a little, knowing that you are as affected by him as he is by you.
Holding out your arms to him for a hug, you murmur a hello in his ear. A whiff of your subtle rose scented perfume wafts into his nose and he resists an urge to close his eyes and bathe in it.
“I made cookies and bark. Have some before we go,” You reach over the counter and hand him the Tupperware.
Bucky doesn’t think he could ever say no to you. He watches you as he munches on the dark chocolate bark, your eyes wide with anticipation.
His approval. You want his approval.
The moan of delight that leaves his lips is bordering on sinful but you clap your hands in delight.
“Pretty good, huh, Buck?” Steve asks slyly.
“She knows the way to my heart,” Bucky says easily, enjoying the way you duck your head at his teasing. You tug the sleeves of your mustard colored bomber jacket and check your pockets to make sure you have your keys, wallet, and cellphone.
“Ready, Buck?” You ask softly. Bucky almost tugs your fingers into his hand but he resists.
He doesn’t want to scare you.
“Have fun, kids,” Steve waves at you, finally giving you a warm smile.
“Bye, Steve. Those cookies better be gone when we get back,” You tease. Steve laughs and nods before giving Bucky a pointed look.
You walk slightly ahead of Bucky with a slight hop in your step. Bucky can taste your excitement bubbling over and spilling onto him.
Like fizzy champagne.
It’s when you are driving to your favorite farm in New York State with one hand on the wheel that you slowly inch your other hand towards Bucky. He doesn’t catch it at first, thinking that maybe you are looking for something in one of the compartments of your car.
But you keep your eyes on the road. Your lips are slightly upturned when your fingers thread into his with invisible, golden strings. You squeeze lightly, your thumb stroking his absent-mindedly.
Bucky silently marvels at how your hand slots into his so perfectly. As if his hand was molded for the sole purpose of fitting into yours.
“You okay, Buck?” You like to check in with him whenever you touch him like this. You don’t want to push him.
“Yes, darling,” Bucky says without thinking. His head whips around to you, anxiously awaiting your reaction.
Darling. Where had that even come from? He hadn’t even been thinking it. Maybe a memory of a memory from long, long ago.
He remembers ‘darling’ from when he used to take pretty girls to get milkshakes and impress them with how quickly he could tie a cherry stem with his tongue.
Instead of rebuking the term of endearment, you smile bashfully. You squeeze his hand again, chancing a glance at him.
“Darling, huh? I like that,” You reply softly, “Never been called that before.”
And Bucky just can’t have that, can he? He likes the way your eyes glitter after he called you ‘darling’ and decides that it’s a look he wants to see on you more often.
Black boots crunch along fallen leaves as you excitedly point to Bucky all your favorite attractions at the farm. You’ve brought him to your favorite childhood farm, complete with a haunted hayride. You take a seat at one of the benches, sipping on hot apple cider and munching on apple cider donuts.
You had been appalled when Bucky said he had never had warm, apple cider donuts. You hadn’t left him room to protest when you fed him bits of the donut, relishing in the way he hummed happily.
“It’s good right,” You murmur, “We should bring some back for Steve. He’ll probably dislike me a little less.”
“He doesn’t dislike you,” Bucky scoffs, “He’s just... protective.”
“I know, I know,” You say softly, wrapping your arm around his bicep and leaning against him, “I’d be protective of you, too, if I was him. I am protective of you, you know?”
Bucky somehow manages to look you in the eyes. The setting sun casts its light, golden rays onto you, accentuating the tenderness in your eyes. He’s proud of himself, from not shirking away from you because of a confession so tender that was directed at him.
“Is that so?” Bucky says wryly, “You and Steve can fight over me. I’ll watch on the sidelines.”
You laugh, ducking your head. It’s a pretty noise, Bucky thinks. Reminds him of something sweet.
“Bet you’d like that, huh? Brooklyn’s finest,” You roll your eyes at him affectionately, “Handsome Brooklyn boy.” You pinch his cheek, laughing when he tries batting your hand away with a blush blooming on the apples of his cheeks.
He smears some of the powder from the donuts onto your forehead and you grumble, “Do you know how terrible having this stuff on your skin is for you?! How rude. We can’t all be blessed with skin like yours, Barnes.”
Bucky actually giggles. He tilts his head slightly so that his nose pressed into your hair. You wish you could capture this moment, this moment in time. You’re certain that his nose is scrunching and his eyes crinkling with mirth.
Your golden boy glows along with the setting sun.
“I know you’re scared. You can hold my hand if you want. You know, cause you’re so scared,” You tease Bucky, wrapping your arm around his bicep again. You’ve made your way to the haunted hayride, the last event of the evening. It’s your favorite part. Bucky clasps his hand over yours with a grin.
“I can hear your heart racing, darling,” Bucky says easily, “Maybe you’re just nervous around me.”
Your heart rate spikes at the pet name and you curse his hearing.
“You just make my darn heart flutter,” You jest, nudging him lightly in the ribs. He shushes you and you lean against his arm, jumping lightly when the hayride begins to move.
Bucky tries his best to not laugh at you when you yelp at almost every turn. Your nails are digging into his arm and your eyes are covered by your other hand. Except you peek out of the spaces of your fingers to see out in front of you.
You let out a distinct, high-pitched scream at the sight of a demented, ghoulish looking clown with a bloody pitchfork and shove your face into Bucky’s shoulder instinctively.
Bucky suddenly feels very warm. Gooey, like the inside of a chocolate chip cookie. Your rosy scent surrounds him, welcomes him. This is rapture, this is vivid- how everything about you warms him up from within. As if you are a part of him already.
As if you’ve already started to pour some of your molten gold into him.
tags: @coal000 @hottrashformarvel @hootyhoobuckaroo @buckyforbreakfast @lesqui @dracris33 @cauraphernelia @starfisharchives @ragna-wrecked
116 notes
·
View notes
Text
imagine: inseong as your boyfriend
- sf9 were going to kcon, and you were going along with them. your usual job at fnc was as aoa’s makeup artist, but since youre fluent in english, you’re coming along as their translator and doing their makeup. you were really good freind’s with aoa, however, you didn’t know sf9 that well. the rest of the boys staff told you that they are a delight to be around, and you hoped they were right. on the plane, you got seated with inseong, so you could get to know them and he spoke english. he was funny, and he had some smart ass moments. when you landed, things got really busy with all the schedules. you were always at the groups side, translating whenever inseong couldnt. over the few days, you grew really close to inseong. you made inside jokes with each other in english, and casually talked alot. you didnt grow nearly as close to any of the other members as you did to inseong. one night, while you were alone with inseong in the hotel room he shared with dawon and hwiyoung, one thing let to another.
- the rest of the trip, you were ashamed. you kept your distance from him, and just did your job.
- back in korea, weeks after kcon, you were back working with aoa, who just had a comeback. you would occasionally spot sf9 and inseong in the fnc building, but avoid them, out of shame.
- however, one day, while you were on your way to the car to drive to music bank with aoa, someone grabbed your hand and pulled you into an empty vocal practice room. it was inseong. «why are you avoiding me?» you could see the hurt in his face, and you locked your eyes on yours shoes. «we have to stay professional inseong. what we did, it wasn’t right.» you said, despite your strong feelings for him. it took some time before inseong finally said something, breaking the silence. «i like you y/n. alot.»
- after that, you two started secretly dating.
- you would have to improvise on how to have a proper date night
- the first date you had was on his balcony, he had set a blanket on the floor, brought out some wine and cheese. you found it cute how he tried so hard to be romantic, despite the circumstances.
- he would always rest his chin on your head, and elbows on your shoulders whenever you two were with other people and just talking
- whenever someone brought up the topic of you two dating, inseong would always try his hardest to change the topic as smooth as possible. sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t
- he would always fiddle with your hands, looking at them and playing with your fingernails
- he always, always sent you messages whenever he misses you - even if you’re together
- he respects your time and personal space - if you want to go hang out friends? fine! are they boys? that’s also fine! however, he cant help but get a bit jealous, and would probably call you sometimes during the night to make sure everythings fine
- once you decided to tell everyone about your relationship, 2 1/2 months into, no one was surprised. all inseong «casually» brings up at random times when he’s with people is you. he can’t stop talking about you.
- as soon as the relationship is official, he would let the WORLD know you were his, cause he felt incredibly lucky to have gotten a girl like you
- except for the night in usa during kcon, your first proper kiss wasnt untill a month into the relationship. you wanted to take things slow, and of course he accepted. he finally got you, he wouldn’t dare risk loosing you. one time, at the end of your workday, you randomly ran into inseong in the hallway. he seemed taken a bit back, but happy to see you, since his schedule was quite busy these days and he hadnt gotten too much time with you lately. he told you that he was in a hurry, and eventhough he would love to spend more time with you because he missed you from the moon and back, he had to run. so you just stepped up on your toes, and quickly kissed him, before telling him to go. he ran off, we a big smile on his face.
- his nick names for you are bae, sugar and sweetheart
- he would do your laundry for you during aoa’s promotion time, because he knew how busy you got (even though he was on a busier schedule himself)
- he’ll drive you around whenever you need to get somewhere, and he would always blast stupid songs for you to sing along to. his favorites are the big time rush theme song, guitar by btob, fairytale by alexander rybak and aqua man by jay park.
- whenever you were feeling sad or down, dancing stupidly for you would be his go-to mood. he’s not afraid to wip out his moves in public, as long as it makes you smile
- he would love you lending his clothes, so that they would smell like you when you returned them.
- he will often watch aoa fancams. not to see aoa, but to look at your makeup work. he’s really proud of you.
- buying you fruits would be something he would do all the time, to make sure you would get a snack that’s healthy with natural sugar in it to rise the energy.
- he loves loves loves kissing your head all the time. if there’s an opportunity for a head kiss, he’ll take it
- he would write you small notes and leave in the most random places for you to find. sometimes the notes would be sweet, sometimes it would be memes like the troll face and bad luck brian, and other times it would be his lines in sf9 songs
- making tea for you, and generally just showing off his !!!great!!! overseas cooking skills would be something he loves to do
(nsfw)
- during that night in usa at kcon, it had just started with the fact that he asked you to help him find his phone charger - it was lost in the mess the hotel room had turned into. however, at one point, while trying to look into a shelf, while inseong was under you looking under a table, you fell and landed right next to him, on your back. it hurt quite a bit, and he asked you if you were okay. you started answering that you were, before you realised how close to you he was. his lips was. he could see that your eyes looked at his lips, and so, impulsivly, he had closed the distance. one thing led to the other, and before you knew it you were half naked on the bed with him. he suddenly whipped out his phone. he could obviously tell you were confused by the act so he quickly explained, «im just gonna send the ramyeon emoji to the boys»
- he’s quite dominant in bed over you. it’s clear that he got some experience in england, in contrast to you. however, he was also really good at guiding you through it, and making you really comfortable
- during the time your relationship was secret, you would often do it impulsively in his car.
- if you like it, he would send you the occasional nude photo, specially when he missed you
- he would love using your name, and when you moaned his name, he wouldn’t be able to hold it anymore
- he loves foreplay!! the more touching and kissing, the better it was. leaving hickeys on your neck would turn him on extremely
- he loved to spoon afterwards, while playing with your hair
#sf9#inseong#kim inseong#sf9 imagine#imagine#sf9 imagines#imagines#sf9 as your boyfriend#boyfriend!sf9#sf9 fanfiction#fanfiction#kpop#admin y
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Step Into the Light (Part I)
Lena Luthor x Vamp!Reader
A/N: So, i’m new to all of this but i like writing and I like Lena Luhtor, and I came up with an idea after watching a really cool vampire movie. So here you go, I don’t know all about this story yet but I promise you I’m gonna finish it if you like it.
Also, Im gonna try to make the reader as gender neutral as possible, ‘cause in general I imagine them as female but I think we all should be allowed to enjoy this. So here we go!
You never expected to be infatuated with someone at this moment of your life. After all the wars and revolutions, all the people you outlived, all your fortune and useless knowledge about the past, this felt like an oddity. But looking at her made your unbeating heart skip a beat. And you knew, after trials and tribulations, you were fangs over heels for Lena Luthor.
The young Luthor had all the trademarks of a striking person: genius, leadership, and beauty. In another time, she could have passed as a queen, and she was one in some sense as she was the heiress and current CEO of L-Corp. It made sense you would feel drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, towards her light.
You were lucky you got to meet her one night at a bar and even luckier that she accepted you a drink. At first, you didn't recognize her but she was familiar enough to acknowledge her as a personality. Soon, you found out, it was a delight getting to know the infamous Lena Luthor.
Whatever your conversations lead, you were more than happy to listen to her. New projects and business, the puppy she saw on her way, rants about the vultures she had as investors or formulas not quite working. You would listen thoughtfully when she talked about her family and cherish the smile she had talking about her best friend, Kara "Sunny" Danvers. You were a little jealous for the closeness their shared but, ultimately, thanked her for being there for Lena in her darkest times.
In return, you tried to tell her as much as you could about yourself. Where were you born, your parent's names, the family "business" and how you inherited all that. Your hate for the sun and hot days for no reason in particular. About how you definitely were not a morning person but liked to watch the sunrise. Your travels around the world, the people you had met, and funny bits of history you had learned. Hell, you even looked at her, dead in the eye, to say you were into drinking blood and being immortal. Only for her to dismiss you with a playful grin.
"What an adventurous life you have, (Y/N). Maybe next time I can come with you". She told you.
"I would be more than thrilled if you do. I just hope the blood thing doesn't bother you". You replied with a mile, all honestly and truth in your voice.
"Well, it's not the worst of all evils. I should know." She winked at you.
Now, you were headed at the gala for the Luthor Family Children's Hospital. Lena had been hopeful you would attend and you didn't want to disappoint her. Once you arrived, you found Lena with a serious face talking to an old man. She looked beautiful as always, a black dress that looked too good, hands, arms and head all arranged in a proud and elegant pose. You didn't hesitate to go and take her away, from what seemed like an insufferable conversation. Managing to leave the man with a cordial expression even after being interrupted. You took Lena by the hand and walked towards the bar. She let out a sigh of relief and little giggle at your manners.
"I know it may be early for this but if we are to survive the night we would need this." You said as you huffed and pointed for two glasses of scotch to the bartender.
"Thank goodness you are here, (Y/N). I was worried you wouldn't come. I know you don't particularly enjoy such parties." She took her glass from your hand.
"Well, who would willingly want to hang out with these...how did you called them? Vultures? Besides, I'm not one to leave a beautiful lady at the mercy of such creatures." Your drew your glass towards your mouth in an attempt to hide your grin.
"In that case, thanks for the favor and the compliment. “She took a sip of her own glass. "You know, for someone who doesn't take pleasure in attending social events, you seem to know how to deal with these people. That man looked almost pleased to be left there."
"I had a lifetime to learn the tricks of the trade. Stick with me and I may teach you a few things."
"So I've been told." She said as a red, blue and blond figure descended from the sky in the middle of the party. "But it seems they will be the least of my concerns tonight."
Lena walked towards National City's Greatest Hero, Supergirl, and you followed close enough to make sure she was alright. Others looked with certain expectation, worry and even dislike for the two figures that were talking. On your part, you were more than intrigued by the hero. There were some perks of being changed; eating and drinking everything you could without gaining a pound, instant regeneration, strength, walk on walls, plus being able to recognize blood by taste or smell. So, when the strong metallic smell of her blood reached you, you knew she wasn't human and not in the same way as yourself.
It was fascinating. You had never been near an alien before. It was one of the hopes you had when coming to National City, the place that brought aliens and humans together, and finally you had come to cross paths with nothing less than the Girl of Steel. However, the excitement was rapidly replaced with concern as you watched Lena's eyebrows knitted in a frown. Whatever the conversation was, it was not good news.
After a brief moment, the conversation was over leaving Lena with a worried face while Supergirl graciously saluted the guests and assured them she had come to express her appreciation for their work and support to the Children's Hospital. All before flying towards the night sky.
"Everything ok?" You approached Lena.
"Nothing you should worry about." She took you by the arm and walked you once again towards the bar.
"Then it's bad, isn't it?" You leaned towards her to whisper. "You only say not to worry when there is something to really worry about and try to hide it."
"Alright, fine." She stopped before reaching the bar, making sure no one was within ear reach, and whispered back to you. "There's been a thread of attack by a group called Cadmus, so we need to keep everyone calm. Supergirl will be watching and if something happens-"
"She comes to the rescue, of course. Don't you want to end this party early?" You suggested looking at the people around.
She looked around herself making sure everything was still going normally, trying to hide the worry in her eyes and taking a deep breath. "No, we need to stay here. If they think we know about their plan, they will surely want to storm into the crowd and take advantage of everyone here."
"So we just play the waiting game, uh? Hey, whatever happens I'm not leaving you, it’s going to be okay." You made sure to use the calmest voice you had as the concern in Lena grew. She had to maintain everyone else in the shadow of a possible attack and made sure those people kept the endorsements in the company. The stakes were high in this gala; she just couldn't risk another disturbance and a front page of bad publicity.
She took a deep breath, took your hand in hers and gave you one of those Lena smiles, soft and warm. "Thank you, (Y/N)"
You tried to smile smugly in an attempt to ignore the adoring look you sure were giving her. "What's there to thank?"
"Being here." You looked at her eyes and you knew, for however long was your immortality, you would be there for the heaven sent creature that was Lena Luthor.
#lena luthor#lena luthor imagine#supergirl#lena x reader#lena luthor x reader#vampire reader#vamp!reader#l corp#imagine#reader#supergirl imagines#supergirl imagine#lena luthor fic#a step into the light
215 notes
·
View notes
Text
intro.
「 Was that JEFFREY DEAN MORGAN walking around the Village? Oh no, it’s GARRETT MACDIARMADA, the FIFTY year old PLAYWRIGHT who resides in one of the WAVERLY PLACE TOWNHOUSES. They define themselves as a BISEXUAL CISMALE and we heard they can be very ENCHANTING and AMIABLE on their good days but on their bad days, they tend to be SELFISH and HAUGHTY. Everyone in the neighborhood knows them as THE VISIONARY. 」
EARLY LIFE IN IRELAND (BIRTH - AGE 31):
- born and raised in a small town on the west region of ireland
- actively participated in the one theatre nearby since he was young, playing small background parts for the sake of being around the magic, directing and sharing his ideas whenever possible
- moved to galway for university where he met who would become his first wife, ingla, and eventually received his degree in playwrighting
- garrett and ingla got married straight away after college and soon after came their first two children, twin boys that equally delighted and overwhelmed the first time parents
- worked as a stagehand at town hall theatre in galway while perfecting and pushing his scripts until he eventually got one of his works to be the spring production, he’d never felt more accomplished than in that moment
- garret and ingla’s relationship had grown rocky, he was always locked away writing when he wasn’t working and they grew distant. news of a surprise pregnancy brought them back together again for a while as they prepped for the arrival of their baby girl. caireann’s presence healed them for awhile but they began bickering more and more, establishing himself in the theater community was difficult to do as is, but with ingla constantly complaining that he wasn’t around enough he grew tense.
- the aunt of their children and ingla’s twin sister, eloisa, began visiting often to help care for their young children when garrett was working.
- every night once the twins, caireann, and ingla were in bed -- garrett and eloisa would sit on the porch of their home to share a cigarette and talk, for what typically ended up being hours. sometimes he would share his WIPs with her and she’d give him her critiques and opinions.
- eloisa wasn’t jaded by him like ingla was. they had pleasant conversation like he hadn’t had with his wife in a long time. eloisa believed in him, in his dream and his talent and the fact that he could be so much more than he was. garrett’s broadway fantasies were usually just that, fantasies. but eloisa made him believe that it was possible and that he was good enough to make it.
- one of those nights on the porch, the two of them confessed they had begun feeling more for each other and shared a kiss that they vowed to pretend never happened. but that one kiss turned into a messy affair and within the span of a few months, ingla found out about them and served him divorce papers.
UPROOTING TO NEW YORK CITY (AGE 31 - 47):
- a combination of his immaturity, selfishness, the impact of losing the life he was comfortable in despite feeling stuck, and eloisa’s encouragement led to him making the impulsive decision that was taking off to new york city as soon as the divorce was finalized. leaving his kids behind broke his heart more than anything, but at this point he believed they were probably better off without him. he was too ashamed to face ingla again and too proud to admit that.
- the adrenaline that came from uprooting and chasing his dreams of being a famous playwright with his work on broadway was a heavy distraction from the guilt he buried deep, and in the heat of the passion, he and eloisa made the not so smart decision to marry once they were settled.
- without the responsibility of a full family and the need for distraction from feeling any negative emotion, garrett was able to bury himself in work in hopes of making a name for himself in the off-broadway community before taking a step toward the big time.
- garrett sent occasional letters and birthday presents to his children in ireland but every single one of them wound up back on his doorstep with a big, fat, RETURN TO SENDER label that made his stomach turn. he received a letter in the mail from ingla a year and a half later with photos and updates, telling him this was the last time he would see his children if he didn’t stop trying to reach them. she would continue sending photos but only in secret, after all, the children were better off without him after suffering the abandonment of their father. he didn’t disagree.
- garrett had several of his plays brought to life in theaters all around new york over the next couple of years, and in time with a lot of perseverance, one of his most popular works fell into the lap of a big time producer on broadway and debuted at the helen hayes theater.
- this gained his work much more attention, and with more attention came more opportunities and praise, in time -- he became an immensely respected broadway playwright with several shows opening over the years.
- garrett’s marriage with eloisa lost a bit of it’s steam overtime because they were both working constantly and barely had time to maintain their relationship. still, it worked for them and they cared deeply for each other. eloisa had made her own way into broadway, acting in various roles, and they made good arm pieces for each other. respected playwright and broadway actress.
- when garrett got the call about ingla’s tragic death, it shook him to his core. he couldn’t seem to look at eloisa anymore without a mixture of grief and guilt, wondering if it could’ve gone differently if he hadn’t done what he’d done.
- garrett and his ex wife’s fifteen year old daughter, caireann, who he hadn’t seen since she was a toddler was now in his custody and moving from ireland to live with him and his wife, who was also her aunt. trying to build maintain a relationship with your teenage daughter was hard enough as is, but after missing thirteen years of her life and being a monster in her eyes, it was near impossible. she was headstrong, like himself, and didn’t even bother to say a single word to either him or eloisa for months. garrett tried to make it as pleasant as possible for caireann, but he was stupid when it came to showing (or feeling) emotions, so his ‘pretend all was well and dandy between them’ attitude probably didn’t help caireann feel much other than that he was an insensitive jerk. connecting with his sons, while rough, seemed to be much easier than reaching through to caireann but he saw how well his three children took care of each other and decided to put the brakes on trying to form bonds because of his own insecurity.
- caireann moved out immediately after high school and the household became cold. his relationship was never the same with eloisa after the death of his first wife and the return of his children into his life. they developed a sort of “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy and garrett drowned his negative feelings in that freedom.
- one night at a jazz bar garrett frequents, a talented young man by the name of eli jackson was playing piano. he was delighted by the music he was making, the melody playing right to his soul. the attention eli gave him in return certainly did not go unnoticed, it fed garrett’s ego for sure and made him all the more interested in the musician. he had the bartender bring him a drink on his behalf, which was successful in bringing him over, and the two of them had a few more while delving into deep conversation for the next couple of hours. this night spun into a year long affair full of passion and excitement, it was heated and captivating, all the way up until garrett realized how real it was becoming for eli. the younger man very much expected garrett to leave his wife, like he told him a number of times, but he just wasn’t ready to give up on his marriage. his relationship with the pianist was not something he saw in the long run and he couldn’t say eli’s vision was the same.
- garrett and eloisa ended up having a long discussion about the turn of their personal lives, eventually coming to the decision to work on rebuilding their marriage and rekindling the passion they had at the beginning. he didn’t see eli again.
STARTING ANEW IN THE VILLAGE (AGE 47 - PRESENT):
- garrett and eloisa’s relationship became quite the roller coaster. it was good again for a while but continued to have more lows than highs. they agreed to separate for the time being in order to figure out whether to go their own ways forever or salvage what was left instead of throwing a 19 year long marriage down the drain.
- garrett moved out of his and eloisa’s home on the upper east side of manhattan, letting her have the house.
- he has officially relocated to greenwich village where he is now renting a townhouse on waverly place, right across the street from washington square park. he is still in the process of moving in.
- garrett is now completely comfortable in his career and wants to, for the first time, focus on repairing his personal life. starting with what is the most important and should’ve been all along, his daughter caireann, who resides in the village as well.
i would absolutely love to establish more connections and plots for garrett presently, so please, send over an IM if you are interested in your character meeting him or having a storyline with him. i’m all for characters mingling and developing!
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tea Party
Genre: Fluff
Pairing: Taehyung x Reader
Word Count: 1,434
Summary: Kim Taehyung is the class clown who you’ve really never had time for, but when your parents invite his over for dinner, you find yourself getting to know him in a way you’d never anticipated.
You were not particularly fond of Kim Taehyung.
This, you had previously thought, was apparent from your lack of interest in the frequent conversations about him that your friends found such joy in having, the look of annoyance you gave him when he spoke up in class (class clowns were really not your thing, it seemed) and the face you pulled when your parents told you that he and his parents would be coming round for dinner tonight.
“What?!” you exclaimed, admittedly a little too loudly. “Why?! How?!”.
“They’re coming to have dinner with us,” your mum answered casually, lighting a candle on the dinner table and stepping back to admire her fancy placing of the plates, cutlery and glasses. “Because they’re our friends,” she went on, raising an eyebrow at you whilst you just folded your arms. “And, I’m not sure. Maybe by car”.
“Tae Tae’s coming?!”. Your little sister skipped out from goodness knows where, her toothless smile huge and her big eyes bright at the news. She squealed with an opposing amount of happiness to yours, looking up at you as though you were supposed to be sharing in the feelings.
“You don’t have to talk to Taehyung if you don’t want to,” your Dad offered, and you told yourself to relax – he’d be here but he wouldn’t really be here with you, and it would all be over in a few hours anyway.
A few hours later, they were still here.
Your parents and his seemed to enjoy talking and laughing at really loud volumes, so you’d excused yourself as it became clear that they were in their own world.
You first went to the fridge to get a bottle of water, and you drummed your fingernails on the kitchen counter for a moment, thinking about Taehyung, despite yourself.
He wasn’t being annoying tonight – he made jokes during dinner, but they were… funny? After a while, it had become impossible to keep the straight face you were sporting on display, so you let go a little. There had been surprise in his brown eyes when he noticed you laughing once.
He’s acting like the kind of person I’d have a massive crush on, you thought honestly, sighing deeply as you thought back to the way he’d interacted with your little sister. First, he’d complimented her on her cute dress, pretending to be awe-struck when he saw her, which made you giggle when you saw the excitement on her face. Then, he’d made sure to talk to her during dinner, asking her about school and also about her hobbies, which she’d delighted in sharing with everyone.
Now, he was in the living room playing tea parties with her.
Curiosity got the better of you, and you went to see.
Peeking your head around the door, you almost gave yourself away by laughing out loud.
Your sister had taken the opportunity to play dress up, too. Kim Taehyung had a red cape flowing down his back as he sat next to your sister at the tiny table on the floor, his long legs looking completely uncomfortable despite his constant smile.
“Am I ready to go to the tea party yet?” he asked in his usual deep voice. They were new words from him, to say the least.
“Not yet,” your sister told him, all business. She rummaged through her box of outfits and accessories, eventually finding a king-like crown that she excitedly placed on top of his head. He made a show of it, acting as though it was some sort of ceremony, and then he stood up, taking on a proud stance.
“I,” he shouted, his deep voice made even deeper by his impression. You smiled when you saw how much your sister was enjoying it. “Am King Taehyung!”.
You shook your head at his antics, but even you had to let out a little laugh, at which he and your sister turned to see you.
“Y/N,” he mumbled, sitting back down immediately, a red tinge to his cheeks.
“Don’t stop on my account,” you told him, wondering if he would take it as a joke (which was new between the two of you) or just you being sarcastic and stand-offish, as you always were with him at school.
He looked a little surprised, but he smiled.
“Y/N!” your sister said. “Wanna have a tea party with us?”. King Taehyung was back to playing it cool, not making eye contact with you as you contemplated the invitation.
“Okay,” you agreed after a moment. “Who do I get to go as? A witch?”. You pulled a face at her, which made her giggle. “A fairy, maybe?”.
“The Queen!” she exclaimed, as though it were obvious. “You and King Taehyung are married and love each other very much”.
You paused, your cheeks turning red. It was a mistake to look at Taehyung, for he was looking back at you with the same uncertainty, biting his lip and widening his eyes. You noticed the handsomeness in his face then. You thought, subconsciously, that he really could have been a king.
Your sister took your hand and led you over to the dressing up box. She found you a matching red cape. You fastened it around your shoulders, suggesting going as a superhero instead. She ignored you, finding a matching crown and gesturing for you to bend down.
You did so, and as she placed it on your head, Taehyung made trumpet music with his mouth that made you both laugh.
“Introducing,” he said, his voice amplified as he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Queen Y/N!”.
You curtseyed clumsily, which Taehyung found kind of cute, and gave a formal wave in every direction of the room, your smile now as bright as his.
Once your sister had found herself an outfit that consisted of a pirate hat, fairy wings and slippers, you had all sat down to tea, Taehyung and yourself facing each other. Your eyes met fleetingly throughout the whole thing, and you realised that after this, your looks of annoyance towards him at school would be much less frequent. In fact, you were sure they would be replaced by looks of curiosity that your friends would no doubt question.
“Could you please pass me a biscuit?” Taehyung asked in a fancy voice.
“We don’t have biscuits,” your little sister replied in a no-nonsense way. “There are only cakes and scones”. You laughed quietly from where you sat, and Taehyung met your gaze and laughed with you, his smile brilliant.
“Then I’ll have whatever you suggest”.
“And I’ll have another cup of tea, if you don’t mind,” you said, your voice equally fancy. “It’s quite delicious”.
Taehyung stared at you in wonder – you’d known each other for a long time, but for some reason, it seemed to him that you disliked him. He supposed it was just that you didn’t find him all that funny like most people did, or maybe he had done something to personally offend you. Either way, he liked you. You were pretty and smart and different. It turned out that you were funny, too, which he had found out tonight.
You looked at him again, eyes sparkling, and he almost frowned – maybe he’d been imagining the annoyed looks you gave him in class.
“Oh!” your sister randomly shouted. “I need to go to the bathroom. Please excuse me!”. She shot up and left as quickly as she could, leaving the two of you laughing in her absence.
“She’s amazing,” Taehyung said, fiddling with the crown on his head. “You’re a good big sister”.
His random compliment disarmed you temporarily, but you cleared your throat and calmly thanked him.
A moment of silence passed, and you felt yourself awaiting your sister’s return.
“So…” Taehyung, on the other hand, wanted to talk. A look of confusion took over his features. “What did I do tonight to get you to finally talk to me?”. You scoffed, surprised at his question.
“Whatever do you mean?” you replied, still pretending to be a Queen. He looked at you with slight seriousness, and he licked his lower lip before he spoke.
“At school… it’s like you hate me or something”.
“I don’t hate you,” you told him honestly, dropping the act completely. You played with the cape, not sure what to say. “I just… didn’t realise you were this…”.
“This?…”.
“This… nice,” you decided, and he rolled his eyes at you, despite the fact that he was laughing. You felt yourself blushing but ignored it as your sister came back.
“This makes us friends now,” he whispered to you, and you froze. His eyes never wavered from yours. “I mean, we’re married and we love each other - very much - so ‘friends’ is the least we can do”. Shaking your head, you laughed with him.
“Okay”. You raised your teacup as though to make a toast. “Friends,” you agreed, giggling at the way the word made his face light up, as if it was all he really wanted.
#bts#bangtan#bangtan boys#bts fluff#bangtan fluff#bts funny#bts fanfic#bts fic#kim taehyung#taehyung#bts v#bts fanfction#v fluff#taehyung fluff#taehyung fanfic#bts scenarios#bts imagines#bts reactions
379 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
nyctophilialoveblog
Isra Aybegüm🪄
shinycrybaby
daydreams and sleepless nights
anotherhumanperson
I am human :)
rkrrlehd12
제목 없음
several-critters-i-know
Shifting and Shuffling Beasts Beneath the Ground