#i might even be able to start on sunday depending on how long i spend on that one paper i'm gonna send in late | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 119: Hope

Harry was always alone.

It sounded a bit dramatic, a little pitiable, and more than a little untrue.

Because he was always out with friends. He had pub nights with large groups of people, he went and took those wine and paint classes with Luna and Ginny every other week, and a cooking class with Ron and Pansy on the off week. He met George, Ron, and Seamus for lunch on Thursday afternoons. Hermione dragged him to a book club with Draco once a month. He met Hermione for breakfast on Tuesdays and had dinner with Ron and Hermione every Monday (and often Fridays, too). Neville invited him for tea every Sunday and there was always someone different there with them.

Still, there was something that always separated him from his friends. All of his friends were buying houses, getting married, having babies, getting pets (or in Neville’s case carnivorous plants). And he was just... stuck.

“Well, well,” a smooth baritone voice said behind him, interrupting his sulk at the bar of the Leaky, and a smile tilted up the corner of Harry’s mouth against his will. “If it isn’t the savior himself.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you going to sit down?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the other man.

Silver eyes gleamed in amusement, “that depends.”

“On?”

“Whether you’re going to buy me dinner. It has been a long day.”

(Read more below the cut)

“Oh?” Harry said, nudging the chair next to him back with his toe. “Well it’s a good thing I ordered the shepherd’s pie, then. You and I both know that’s always big enough for two.”

“Were you expecting me then?” Draco asked with a pleased grin as he plopped down in the chair next to him.

“Nope,” Harry said. Strictly speaking, this was true, he’d been hoping the other man might show up but not expecting him to. “I just like to have leftovers.”

Draco laughed at Harry as the bartender slid an old fashioned across the counter to him, “thank you,” Draco said, nodding to the man who all but ignored him.

Harry inhaled to say something about the man’s rudeness (an action he knew was futile since he’d done it several times) but Draco put a hand on his arm and took a sip of his drink. “Not worth it,” he said.

Harry sighed at him, “Tell me about work.”

Draco grinned, it was a sort of grin that Harry used to hate when they were younger. It was a grin that meant Draco had been particularly vicious in the courtroom today. With relish he began telling Harry about the woman and her child whom he had defended against a powerful, abusive husband. How he’d eviscerated the man on the stand and freed the two of them from his grasp.

“It was brilliant,” he finished with a sigh.

“Sounds like it,” Harry replied, resting his cheek in his hand.

Draco gave him a little smile. It had taken a long time to get here, even a year ago Draco would have been looking at him, trying to work out if Harry had meant it sincerely. “Tell me about your day,” he said.

“Oh, you know how it is,” Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sitting around in board meetings, trying to make sure that the people who actually know something get heard. Watching people who only want what’s best for themselves trying to make people believe they want what’s best for everyone.”

He laughed and took a sip of his drink, “I don’t understand how or why you do it.”

“Well someone’s got to, don’t they?” he asked. “Might as well use my fame to some advantage. Help people. You know,” he said, shrugging one shoulder and picking at the label on his beer.

“Come away with me,” Draco said suddenly.

“Sorry?”

The other man grinned at him, “I’m going on vacation. I’m leaving tomorrow for a week on the beach on an island. Come with me.”

“What? Why?”

The smile that had been so bright a moment ago started to dim, “Nevermind. It’s a stupid idea. Forget I said anyth-”

“Draco,” Harry said, realizing he’d misunderstood. He put his hand on his forearm. “I’d love to. Seriously, I would love nothing more than to go and spend a week on the beach with you. I just,” he trailed off, “why would you want me to?”

“Because you’re always moping. And you’re always doing things for everyone else. And you’re bloody lonely.” He shook his head, “And no one sees it.”

“Except you, apparently,” Harry huffed.

The corner of Draco’s mouth tipped up, “Except me. Come on,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, Potter. Fucking seriously.”

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

The beach was fantastic.

Harry had never been to the beach for a vacation and he enjoyed every sun soaked minute.

Draco watched him with an expression that Harry couldn't entirely parse out. It was amused, and fond, and exasperated, and something else entirely all at once. "I don't get you," Draco said eventually, after they'd spent half the day by the ocean; lounging, swimming, drinking, and laughing.

"What do you mean?"

Draco shrugged and took a sip of his sangria before he continued, "You're wealthy, you have time, you obviously enjoy it here; why haven't you done this before?"

He frowned, "Well who wants to go on a vacation alone?"

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "I'd planned to go alone. I have actually taken several vacations alone."

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

Draco waved him off, "It's fine. I'm not offended I just," he shrugged helplessly, "I find you fascinating."

"You find me fascinating?" he asked incredulously.

"Haven't I always?" he replied wryly.

He huffed but couldn't argue considering that he'd been equally obsessed with the other man for most of their lives at this point.

"You could have done anything," Draco said, "There's nothing that the wizarding world wouldn't have given you. If you'd wanted to go on vacation and not be alone you could have had your pick of witches or wizards who would have gladly gone with you. If you wanted to be married with half a dozen children all you would have needed to do was pick the person." He shook his head, "You could have done anything you wanted, been anything you wanted, had anything you wanted but you've chosen a career that makes you miserable and you've chosen to be alone which makes you miserable." He shook his head again, "I don't get it."

"But how can I know if I'm actually good enough?" Harry asked. "How can I know if I'm good at my job or if it was just given to me because I'm Harry Potter? How can I know if the person who agrees to marry me is with me because I'm me or because I'm Harry Potter?"

"All this time I thought that you weren't on to me," he teased.

He rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean."

"You know what I think?" Draco asked as he leaned back in his beach chair and slipped his sunglasses back in place.

"I couldn't possibly guess," he replied.

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "I think you're just scared."

He frowned at the other man even though Draco wasn't looking at him, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me perfectly," he replied, "You're scared."

"Of what?" he asked incredulously.

"Of being loved," he said simply. "Afraid that if you let someone love you, you'll have to let them in. You'll have to let them see all the dark, broken, twisty bits because it's not love if it's not honest."

"Oh and I suppose you're so much better at that," he snapped.

Draco snorted, "Hardly. I'm just willing to live my life until I've found someone who I'll be able to share those jagged pieces with."

He glared at the leg of the other man's chair, "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Alright," Draco replied agreeably.

"I'm going for a walk."

He nodded and yawned, "I think I'm going to take a nap, the sun feels nice."

Harry got up and trudged away without another word, trying to decide if Draco Malfoy was full of shit or if he might just know what he was talking about.

The longer he walked and the more he turned what Draco had said over and over in his head, the more he knew that the only person whom he would trust to see his dark bits was Draco Malfoy.

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

When he got back from his walk Draco was reading a book.

"You might be right," Harry said.

He hummed, "Not to brag but I usually make a point of being right."

Harry collapsed into the sand and stared out at the waves rolling in. "Can I ask you something?"

"Nothing has stopped you so far."

He huffed, "Have you ever been in love."

"Yes," the other man replied.

"How did you know?" Harry asked.

Draco hummed thoughtfully, "I woke up one day and realized that I loved his imperfections more than I loved the perfect image I'd created of him," he said. "I realized that I'm happiest when I'm with him, that he makes me feel brave in my fear and strong in my vulnerability."

"He sounds pretty great," Harry said, swallowing down the bitterness.

"He's also completely oblivious," Draco added. "And normally that would irritate me but his humility is part of his charm."

His heart beat a little quicker, "Is that so?"

Draco grinned, "Yes. And he's not too bad on the eyes, either," he added. "He's got a lovely complexion, fantastic long, dark hair. And his eyes," he let out a low whistle, "A bloke could get lost in those eyes and he wouldn't mind staying in the lovely green of summer."

Harry's mouth went dry and he couldn't quite find any words or summon any courage. Hope blossomed dangerously inside of his chest, expanding and expanding until Harry feared there wasn't room for a shred of doubt.

"He's rather fit, too," Draco continued, giving Harry a once over that even he wasn't oblivious enough to have missed. "And you wouldn't believe his arse," he added, "exquisite."

Harry laughed at that, "You're ridiculous," he said as he bent toward the other man. "I like you, too," he whispered.

"Took you long enough to figure it out," Draco teased.

He reached up and pulled Draco's sunglasses off his face, "I'm going to kiss you," he murmured.

"Took you long enough," he repeated before reaching up to cup Harry's cheek in his palm and draw Harry in.

With a sigh, Harry happily gave himself over to the kiss, over to Draco; knowing that his heart was finally in good hands.

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

Day 118: Glass | Day 120: Tough

#100 drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #fluff #love confessions #friends to lovers #vacation #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #thanks for the prompt

296 notes · View notes

dameronology · 3 years

Text

love in the time of p.t.a. meetings {marcus moreno} - 4/5

summary: after a few months of slightly chaotic bliss, you & marcus start to think about the next steps in your relationship. {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing

this is up a little later than i wanted & i do apologise, i once again stayed up all night and i cannot recount a single thing i’ve done. enjoy!

- jazz

Things between you and Marcus quickly fell into a routine.

You kind of had to when you both had kids; their lives needed structure. Depended on it, in fact. It wasn’t long before both of your lives were entangled in more ways than one, mostly for the sake of Missy and Jack having security around them but also because things between you were so good. Neither of you were trying to rush by any means, but when it worked, it worked. You were both good at communicating with each other - not that many issues really cropped up - and you both understood that your children came first. Things progressed easily and naturally, and he made you feel secure enough that you didn’t have to question whether or not it was too good to be true.

Five months had quickly passed and you were both comfortable. Marcus Moreno was your boyfriend and it wasn’t a big deal. Okay, it had been at first - especially the first time he planted a kiss on your lips in front of the minivan brigade - but now? It was normal. It felt like he’d always been there, and you took it as a good sign. You got on well with Missy, especially since she’d witnessed your spat with Carol and started to think the world of you, and Jack...well, he was obsessed with Marcus. You couldn’t blame the kid.

‘Jack! Put the soup down!’

It was another one of those mornings. It was a Sunday, so you didn’t have to worry about getting up early for school or work but you’d been at Marcus’ till late the night before. You and Jack ended up spending a lot of time at his; there was a swimming pool and a big garden for Optimus Prime to run around in, so it tired both of your tiny spawns out, which worked in your favour.

Even when the kid had spent four hours swimming last night, he’d still risen that morning at 6AM like Jesus Christ on the third day. You’d woken to find the kitchen covered in smashed eggs and ham, then your oven had broken and the toilet was blocked again.

You’d been halfway through reversing the problem when you’d heard Jack shuffling in the kitchen. You were stood in the hallway, still in your pyjamas, with a toilet brush in one hand and the other balled up into a fist.

‘Jack, the soup is about to-’

You paused mid-sentence, watching as the bowl he was trying to reach for toppled straight off of the counter. You’d only washed his hair ten minutes ago, and you might as well have not fucking bothered because it was now covered in chunky vegetable soup. And the Chewbacca onesie he loved so much? Trying to peel that off him for the next few hours to wash the Heinz out of it was going to be a whole task in itself. You’d only just been to the laundrette the day before, and you’d gotten to the point in life where having a place with its own washing machine was a sign of success.

‘Mum, there’s soup in my hair.’

‘It’s okay.’ You took a moment to breath. ‘We are not going to cry.’

‘I’m not crying.’

‘Wasn’t talking to you, buddy.’ You rubbed your temples for a moment. ‘C’mon, let’s go hop in the bath.’

So much of parenting was just...stopping to breath. Stopping to take a moment to remind yourself that although your love for your child was unwavering and unconditional, you sometimes felt like screaming. All you’d done for the last five hours was go in circles, cleaning and lecturing and cleaning some more. It made you wish you were at work that day, because at least then you could have conversations with people that weren’t about what cheese they wanted for lunch or what cartoon they wanted to watch.

‘I just had a bath.’ Jack muttered.

‘Yeah well, you need another one.’ You took another deep breath. ‘I’ll be there in a minute-’

‘- I don’t want a bath!’

‘And I don’t want a kid that’s covered in soup!’ You shot back. ‘C’mon, buddy. Just do as I say, please?’

Your conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. You frowned for a moment - you weren’t expecting anyone. There was no post on Sundays and you hadn’t seen your landlord since the day you’d moved in. Your nosey neighbour knocked sometimes, usually asking about the noise (he didn’t have kids, clearly) and you were this close to telling him to mind his own fucking business.

‘I swear to god, if that’s David again, I am going to shove this can of soup up his - Marcus!’ You almost did a double take when you saw your boyfriend stood at the door - he really chose his times, didn’t he? You hadn’t even had time to put the fucking toilet brush down. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, baby.’ He greeted you slowly, eyes slowly taking in your appearance (and not in a sexy way). ‘Were you not expecting me?’

‘Shit, did we have plans?’ Your eyes widened.

‘No, but Jack called. He said you’d asked him to ask me to come over, but I realise half way through that sentence that starting with Jack called probably means you had no idea.’ He offered you a goofy smile. ‘He said that the sofa had exploded and that you needed help.’

There was a lot to unpack there. When had Jack done that? More to the point, when had he learnt to use the phone? How had he worked out your phone password? The kid couldn’t do up his own velcro and now he was a Russian hacker, apparently.

‘Oh my god.’ You groaned. ‘I am so sorry. Things have been batshit here this morning and I’m sure he had my best interests in his weird little heart, but he made you come all this way-’

‘- Marcus!’ Speaking of the devil.

Jack pushed past you, wrapping his arms around Marcus’ waist. He leant down to pick him up, lifting him off the ground - albeit at a distance, due to Soupgate.

‘Hey, buddy.’ He greeted him. ‘You been causing trouble again?’

‘Not on purpose.’ Jack replied. ‘Mum says I need another bath.’

‘I think she’s right.’ Marcus said. ‘Why don’t you go pick out some clothes and come back in a minute, yeah?’

‘Okay!’ Seemingly impressed by the newfound trust in him to choose an outfit, Jack wriggled himself back down to the floor, trotting towards his bedroom. Seriously, how did Marcus do that? Perhaps his ability to have authority over your archaic child was another hidden power of his.

‘You look like you need a break, baby.’ He reached out, gently running a hand down your arm.

‘I’m fine, he’s just been a lot today.’ You sighed.

‘You have soup on your shirt and fluff in your hair.’

‘Couch stuffing.’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s couch stuffing. Except that was Optimus Prime and not Jack, which makes a nice change.’ You muttered.

‘Look, Missy is at her abuela’s today and she’s been begging for ages to see Jack again.’ He said. ‘What d’you say I drive him over there, you clean up and we hang out? Just us, no kids, no dogs, no stress.’

‘That sounds like a fucking dream.’ You couldn’t help but smile. ‘But Optimus has consumed half the couch and I gotta keep an eye on him-’

‘-we can bring him with us!’ Marcus grinned. ‘He loves the garden.’

‘Are you sure? Because I remember you saying you had work plans today and I don’t want you to cancel them on account for the fact I can’t control my own kid. Or life.’

‘You two come first.’ He said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘Three, including Optimus Prime.’

In the time it took Marcus to drive Jack to his mum’s and get back to yours, you were able to clean up. The apartment was still a state, but it hadn’t been properly tidy in...how many days had it been since Jack was born? Because it hadn’t been clean in exactly that many days. You felt a little bad dumping him on Anita when he was still covered in soup, but if anyone was able to wrestle him into the bath and some clean clothes, it was her. You’d met her a few times and she was absolutely lovely, but you had no doubt she could be terrifying when need be. She was the sort of woman you aspired to be.

By midday, you were driving out the city. There was music playing quietly over the radio and you were watching the houses go by; even though it was cold out, you had the heater on and you were bundled up in a leather jacket, Marcus’ scarf snugly around your neck. It smelt faintly of his aftershave, which had become one of your favourite scents over the last five months. The time had gone so quickly. You’d seen each other practically every day since then, and having the kids meant you’d been fallen into being domestic pretty quickly. The simplicity of it all - him and you and getting to this point so easily - was overwhelming in itself.

Your first relationship had been so complicated - so finicky and filled with unnecessary arguments. That should have been a sign early on, but then you’d gotten pregnant with Jack and getting married had seemed like the obvious thing to do. His presence meant you wouldn’t have changed anything, not for the entire fucking world, but it made you a little sad to think about how long you’d wasted on what had clearly been the wrong person. Meanwhile, Marcus’ situation had been entirely different; he’d had the right person the first time around and then he’d lost them. You never felt like a replacement to his wife, or even thought about the notion, really. That had been another part of his life. You were a new part and it didn’t mean he was forgetting the past. The two could co-exist without taking away from each other.

‘You’re deep in thought.’ Marcus observed. He moved one of his hands to rest on your leg, giving it a light squeeze. He did that a lot, usually whenever you were sat beside him at the table or on the sofa. It was just a him thing.

‘Yeah, sorry.’ You tore your gaze away from the window. ‘My brain always goes a little into overdrive when things are quiet.’

He chuckled. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘You, actually.’ You tangled your fingers with his, thumb brushing over the back of his hand. ‘I was just thinking about lucky I am and how good things are, and how it almost feels too good to be true.’

‘Better believe it, baby.’ He replied. ‘Because it is true.’

‘I know.’ You peered over at him with a smile. ‘It’s just...my only perceptions of relationships were based on the single one I’ve had. Everything was so complicated and exhausting. This is completely different and it’s so nice. And normal. And I don’t know, that sounds stupid-’

‘- it’s not stupid at all.’ Marcus peered over at you, shaking his head. ‘It’s natural to be a little apprehensive after a bad relationship and if there’s anything I can do to help, you just have to tell me. You know that, right?’

Maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was just him, but you knew for certain that he meant that. There was sort of a silent agreement now that you were both in this for the long haul. Your mum had always said that you’ll know when you know but you’d always written that off. Mostly because you hadn’t known the first time round. But, now you did. You did know and though you weren’t going to admit that to Marcus, you never doubted him for a second.

‘I do.’ You said. ‘But he’s in the past now - and hopefully it’s where he fucking stays.’

‘I have contacts. I can find him and set Miracle Guy on him.’ Marcus’ grin had returned. ‘Just say the word.’

‘You make a tempting offer.’ You smiled back at him. ‘But the past is the past and I’m ready to...slam the lid on that dumpster.’

‘Do you think he’ll ever want to come back into Jack’s life?’

You pondered for a moment. ‘I don’t think so, but if he did, I dunno if I’d let him. I never wanna be the person who stops someone from seeing their kids but what he did was...it was unforgivable.’

‘You don’t have to make that decision until it actually happens.’ Marcus gently said. ‘And I’ll support whatever you choose.’

He pulled into the drive way of his house - his nice, clean, sofa-stuffing-and-soup free house. Optimus Prime leapt out the car as soon as the door was open, practically tearing past the two of you and down towards the yard. There was a moment of silence and then a splash!

‘Guess he found the pool.’ Marcus commented. ‘At least it’s heated, I s’pose.’

Truth be told, he loved having the three of you at his house. It felt like whatever had been missing before was slowly making an appearance as your relationship progressed. The irony was that you brought nothing but chaos and clutter with you, but that was exactly what made it feel like a home. It was small things; the painting that Jack had done for him at after school club was now hung up up on the fridge, and there was a photo of him and Missy on the fireplace with Optimus Prime. Half of the thousands of blankets of pillows that had been at your place had ended up on his sofa, thanks to the countless sleepovers.

If he could have it his way, Marcus would have you live with here all the time. The energy that you and Jack brought made everything feel complete. He loved the evenings where Missy and Jack would play out in the pool, and you two would sit back inside, complaining about the cold. Then there were the nights where you’d take both the kids back here when he was working late, and he’d come home to find you piled on the couch watching an old movie, with your burnt cooking abandoned on the stove, surrounded by boxes of left over take out. It was the kind of thing that was so simple and so domestic, but it was everything he wanted.

That was probably the flashpoint moment when Marcus Moreno realised he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He already knew he loved you - he’d worked that out about three months in, when you’d fallen asleep in one of his shirts whilst trying to wait up for him - but he hadn’t said it. He’d hinted at it and made back-handed comments but he’d barely admitted it to himself, let alone to anyone else. He knew what you and Jack had gone through before and it broke his entire fucking heart. You both deserved someone who stand by you and support you, someone who would embrace you both for the craziness and warm energy you brought everywhere with you. More than ever, he was realising he wanted to be that person who gave it you. After all, you’d made his life so much brighter without even trying.

Snapping out of his trance, Marcus looked over at you. You’d already ditched your shoes and dropped onto the sofa, pulling one of the blankets with you. This was exactly what you needed. A quiet house, your favourite person and a cable knit blanket.

‘Hey, baby?’

You looked over at him, smiling at the name. ‘Yeah?’

‘You know I love you, right?’

You blinked in surprise, sitting up. ‘I know.’

‘You do?’

‘You’ve never said it, but I can tell.’ You nodded, before offering a smile. ‘And I love you too.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.’ He slowly approached you, dropping onto the sofa beside you and taking your hands in his. ‘I think I just got so caught up in everything and feeling everything that I forgot.’

‘Why are you apologising?’ You couldn’t help but scoff at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. ‘It’s your actions that say it, Marc. Hearing it is good but you showed it a long time ago.’

‘I know, but really you deserve to hear it everyday.’ He smiled against you, helping you move onto his lap.

‘You do tell me everyday, with the things you do.’ You reminded him. ‘Like meeting me in the parking lot with coffee, or bribing Jack into going to bed early with video messages from your superheroes, or doing my grocery shopping when you know money is short.’

‘Why wouldn’t I do those things?’ Marcus seemed genuinely confused. ‘It’s you.’

‘I love you.’ You repeated the phrase.

‘And I love you.’

He pulled you into another kiss - this time it was a little firmer, not unlike your second declaration of love. Marcus did all those things without thinking, simply out of his intense want for you to just be happy. He was the same with Missy, always doing little things to make her life easier just because. It was just part of who he was, and it made him happy to see his loved ones happy.

With your body pressed against his and your hands tangled in your hair, Marcus realised he didn’t want you to ever leave again. He didn’t want you to have to drive home in the dark at ten because all of your stuff was on the other side of town. You did stay over sometimes, but then you’d have to creep out at 6AM with a sleeping Jack in your arms to get home in time to get ready. He wanted you here all the time. You should have been here all the time.

‘Move in with me?’

He both did and didn’t mean to say it out loud. He did because he wanted you so badly to be a permanent fixture in the house, but he also didn’t because the idea might have been a little absurd. Was it too soon? What if you didn’t want to leave your place? He knew you loved your apartment. It was your home and had been for a long time.

‘What?!’ You suddenly pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide.

‘I mean...if you want to.’ Marcus slowly said. ‘Hell, Missy and I can move to your place if that’s what you want. It might be tight but she loves the dog and I just want to be with you-’

‘- hey!’ You cut him off, planting your hands on his shoulders. ‘You’re rambling again, but that’s besides the point. I would love to live here.’

‘You would?’

‘I would.’ You smiled.

It made sense. Aside from the glaringly obvious fact you wanted to, it was also practical. It was closer to the school, closer to your work and it had a fucking swimming pool. Marcus was already clearly financially secure and moving in wouldn’t mean relying on him, but it would have meant that things for Jack were a lot more stable. Missy loved the company of you both, and it meant she would finally have the dog she wanted so bad.

‘Missy would be okay with it, right?’ You asked.

‘She was the one who put the idea in my head, actually.’ Marcus admitted. ‘I’d thought about it but then she kind of asked in passing why you don’t live here, and I couldn’t give her an answer.’

‘Your kid is smart.’

‘D’you think Jack will-’

‘- I’m going to stop you there.’ You cut him off.

‘Right, I probably don’t need to ask that question.’ He chuckled.

‘Exactly.’ You pressed a kiss to his nose. ‘Don’t forget the dog, either.’

‘How could I? I can literally see him peeing on my lawn right now.’

‘Our lawn.’

Exactly three weeks later - and after a hefty amount of paperwork and hours of sorting through Jack’s endless amounts of crap that he insisted on hoarding - moving day came.

Anita had insisted on having the kids again. They were both excited, but perhaps a little too much. They were probably more likely to get in the way of things if anything. Children, a dog and large boxes? It seemed like a match made in hell. Plus, she had a whole ass training course in her back garden and if that didn’t wear the kid out, then you were definitely going to take him to the Heroics to get tested. The thought alone was enough to tire you out.

You didn’t have too much stuff to move. You’d been half-moved into the damn place before Marcus had even made the formal proposal, so that made things a lot easier. You were keeping your sofa for Jack’s room, but the rest was going to Goodwill. Most of it had come from there in the first place.

‘I think that’s the last box.’ Marcus announced, exiting the bedroom. ‘I didn’t realise that a five year could own so many variations of storm-trooper toys.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ You replied. ‘There’s the original trilogy ones, sequel trilogy ones, dark troopers, shock troopers, clone troopers - and I realise half way through listing them that you don’t care.’

‘I never said that!’ He placed his hands on your waist, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m excited to learn.’

‘I’m sure Jack is excited to tell you.’ You grinned.

Then, it faltered slightly with the realisation you were actually leaving this place. You’d never intended for it to be your permanent home, but it had still been the centre of your entire universe for half a decade. Every room told a story; the crayon marks on the bathroom wall, the dents behind the TV from, the crack in the living room mirror. All caused by Jack, naturally. The last five years was contained entirely within these four walls and you got bleary eyed at the idea of it becoming someone else’s.

‘Hey, don’t cry.’ Marcus gently wiped away a tear from your cheek.

‘You know, the rent is still paid till the end of the month so we could revisit the idea of you and Missy living here instead.’ You tearfully smiled.

‘You’re kidding but you know I’ll do it.’ He pressed another kiss to your nose, grip on your arms tightening.

‘It’s okay.’ You moved so that the kiss landed on your mouth instead, capturing his lips in a brief kiss. ‘I knew we were gonna outgrow this place. I just didn’t expect it to be so soon.’

‘I know. Still kinda feels like it all came out of no-where, huh?’ He replied. ‘In the best way.’

‘You’re right. In the best way.’ You firmly nodded. ‘Can you believe I was 23 when I moved into this place? I found it on Craiglist within ten minutes of finding out I was pregnant.’

‘Do you wanna take a minute before we go?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ You shook your head. ‘We should get going.’

The apartment was just that: an apartment. And the house you were going to was just that: a house. But the people you were with? That’s what made it count. It wasn’t about the four walls or the roof over your head, or whether or not it had a big yard and a jacuzzi bath tub (though, that did help). It was about the laughter and warmth inside; the faces in the photos on the wall and the people you came home to after a long day. It was the smell of your burnt cooking and the pizza you’d ordered in place. It was Jack’s toys left in the exact place where someone could trip and it was Missy using all the hot water in the morning so that Marcus’ showers were practically arctic. It was everyday things that reminded you of the people around you; the people that made it home, and how lucky you were to have them.

That was home. And you’d found yours.

taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @lyanna-the-giantsbane @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles @bitchin-beskar @comphersjost

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno imagine #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #marcus moreno imagines #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character headcanons

371 notes · View notes

knivesareout · 3 years

Text

steve murphy nsfw alphabet

because steve murphy fucks and @emmikmil and i will not stand for that slander any longer!! anyway, this is a collab with em and i and we love steve and just boyd as a whole.

2.5k words of filth about our favorite hillbilly DEA agent! enjoy xx

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

It doesn’t matter if it was soft and slow or hard and rough, Steve is always on top of the aftercare. After taking a few minutes to catch your breath he’s there with a warm rag to clean you up. He’ll make sure you have water and will tuck you into bed before crawling in after with cuddles, kisses and plenty of praise. His first priority is taking care of you and making sure you’re okay.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Steve favors his hands and what he can do with them. How well he can manipulate your body with just a single flex of his wrist. The long digits of his fingers always reach places you can never seem to reach and how the veins on the top of his hand are more prominent when he’s pulling your hips against his or tightening around your throat when he fucks you from behind.

As for his favorite body part on you, well. Steve’s a boob guy. And a thigh guy. And really, just anything soft. He’s constantly staring at any piece of exposed skin when you’re out in public, licking his lips in anticipation for more. He loves nuzzling into your belly after eating you out, rubbing the scruff of his facial hair on the soft skin. Your pussy is also a favorite of his- the warmth, the sensitivity of just a whisper of a touch making you instantly wet and leaving evidence across his mouth.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Steve definitely has preferences where he cums. Always safety first: with a condom in a newer relationship. If well established he loves to cum inside of you and watch it leak out after, before licking it all back up. He won’t not deny his other favorite is seeing your face dripping with him. Ruining your pretty face with his release, marking you as his. He loves scooping the cum off your face and feeding it to you, watching you suckle his fingers, cleaning them. Any opportunity for either of you to eat his cum he’ll take.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves the thrill of public sex. The thought of someone seeing him fingering you under the table, your panties pushed to the side. It’s lucky most places are louder otherwise the table over would hear the wet noises coming from between your thighs. He loves pushing you up against a wall in a semi-secluded place in the hopes someone might see you desperately riding his thigh because he left you high and dry during dinner. You never know what to expect when he calls you at work with the amount of times he’s left you breathless with his words, trying to get you worked up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Steve definitely has experience, the most being in college. As he’s gotten older he definitely doesn’t sleep around as much. He’s very much a relationship man, enjoying the learning process of what you like, what makes you tick, etc. He has skill and once he learns the ins and outs of your body? He can play you like a well tuned instrument.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position where Steve can look at you when you cum is his favorite. He loves seeing you falling apart for him and seeing what he does to you is his biggest turn on. The desperate look on your eyes as you silently beg him for more is something he always wants to see. Accessibility is also a factor- being able to kiss and nip along your body, bury his face into your neck and mark you. He does love it when you ride him and take what you need though, his hands on your ass to help you move along his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It really does depend on the moment. After a long day spent teasing each other, there’s no room for giggles. He’s focused and serious on pounding you into oblivion. Then there are the lazy weekend mornings where it’s spent rolling around in bed teasing, giggly and sweet. He can do both very easily and doesn’t really prefer one over the other.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Steve’s decently groomed but he doesn’t have much body hair to begin with. He keeps things trimmed and neat, the thick and wiry hair just a darker shade of blonde. Not to mention he loves the feeling of a little tug on the hair there when you slide your hand down his pants before you grab his cock; not to mention seeing your nose buried in the hairs when you deep throat him is always a sight he loves to see.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It doesn’t matter what kind of sex you two are having or how long the session lasts, his hands and lips rarely leave your body. Touch is Steve’s love language. He is very attentive and romantic, whispering his love and praises. If he has time to prep before he would absolutely light candles to set the mood.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

While he prefers release with you, he doesn’t mind taking things into his own hands when you’re busy. Steve’ll get lost in his own head at times with what new thing he wants to try with you and he’ll find himself hard. He likes to take his time when he’s jacking off, slow and tight strokes to emulate the feeling of your pussy before he starts to get desperate for his release. A sharp tug on his balls and he’s done for, white streaks on his chest and he pictures you cleaning it up, having to groan as his cock twitches with interest.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Steve has a fair few and highlighting some are:

Edging - Steve gets great enjoyment in seeing you writhe and pant as you get closer to coming and even more enjoyment in hearing your whines and breathless curses as he stops you just moments away from bliss. Edging you while he’s eating out is probably his favorite, hearing your moans with your thighs wrapped around his head and the solid grip in his hair. If you have the time he could spend hours between your legs, until you’re a blubbering mess wanting nothing more than to cum.

Breeding - This is the one kink he’s never told to another partner. He keeps this one under wraps, not even telling you until you both have the talk of starting a family and trying. When revealed, it’s not really a surprise to you. He just loves the thought of breeding you and seeing your belly grow with his baby. There would be nothing sexier to him than you pregnant, round with the clear evidence that he’s the cause.

Bondage - Having you at his mercy is a high for Steve. He’s done research into the best restraints to keep you comfortable, making sure they’re never too tight and always showing you a way to get out. Tying you to the bed and getting his mouth on you is a personal favorite, marking you and making you cum with your hands tied.

Voyeurism - Steve cannot get enough of watching you. Watching what gets you off, what parts of your body are more sensitive. It was how he first learned what got you off, watching you masturbate for him. Just watching you in general though makes his thoughts go off into a space where he’s thinking filthy things almost immediately. The most innocent things you do set him off, like rubbing your neck when you’re tired or the soft sigh you let out after a long day.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Any place Steve can have you is a good place. Public or not, if he wants you then and there it’s happening. Up against the cabinets in the kitchen, bent over your desk at work during your lunch break, the seedy bathroom at the bar him and Javier frequent after a long day- it doesn’t matter to him. He does prefer a bed so he can lay you out and take his time, making you quiver and cry for him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much to turn Steve on but, hearing the noises you make when he kisses your neck or fondles your breasts. Every whimper, gasp and soft whisper of his name gets him harder than anything. Steve also loves a challenge- loves when you challenge his authority, teasing him and pushing his buttons to get a reaction.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that puts you or him at risk or in danger. Steve is all about making sure you’re comfortable and anything that even presses a boundary you don’t seem into, he’s instantly changing gears. With how much violence he sees in his day-to-day life, that’s a hard limit for him- seeing you hurt. He doesn’t want it turned back on him either, it’s an easy trigger.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Steve will never turn down a blow job from you but, he thrives between your thighs. He loves to eat you out and he has the skill to make you shiver with every stroke of his tongue and fingers. He won’t stop until his head is pinned in place by your thighs with your hands in his hair tugging him off you when it becomes too much.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

After a long day at work dealing with Javi and the ambassador and literally every other frustrating person he has to work with, Steve loves a good fast and rough fuck. It helps release the stored tension he keeps in his body. Weekends are when Steve can take his time with you. A long and slow Sunday morning fuck is his favorite, drawing it out until you’re shaking with your 3rd orgasm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a necessity during the week. Hurried touches in the shower before work and fucking you into the mattress before bed. It's definitely not his preferred way to fuck you but with a busy schedule he will take you however he can.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Steve doesn’t mind a little bit of risk, especially for someone with an exhibitionist kink. He loves the thrill, gets off on it and it drives him crazy at the thought of someone seeing what he does to you. He loves to experiment- testing your body and what it can take and how it gets you going. Steve is always the one to bring up something new into the bedroom and you’re on board fully, trusting him implicitly with your pleasure.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

His stamina is something Steve prides himself on. Especially since his focus is always on you- how you’re feeling, making sure you’re getting your pleasure, he’s not worried about his own until he’s made you cum at least twice, if not more. There have been times when he’s let you take the reins and you’ve had him cumming so often he was orgasming dry but it’s not an often occurrence.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

What toys doesn’t Steve own is a better question. Well, you and him. You’d come with a few of your own toys: a trusty wand, a plug, a dildo- all things he loved using on you and watching you use. After some time you add small things: padded handcuffs, a silk mask, soft cotton restraints.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It may be hard to believe but under the southern gentleman facade, Steve is the absolute biggest tease. The light tease in public and normal conversation is nothing compared to how he is in the bedroom. It can be teasing touches with his lips and hands or whispered taunts in your ear. He knows the teasing and taunts rile you up like nothing else, and the man always aims to please.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Steve isn’t particularly loud, just soft grunts and shaky breaths but he loves talking. He’s a talker through and through and loves telling you just how good your body is treating him. How well you take his cock, how beautiful you look all fucked out after your 3rd orgasm, how fucking hard it makes him seeing his cum drip out of you. The talking had taken you by surprise the first time he spoke but now you can’t get enough, can’t deny how much more it turns you on.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

While Steve is most definitely the dominant partner in the bedroom, he does enjoy being pegged. He was extremely hesitant when you brought the idea up initially and it took awhile for him to consider it and be comfortable. Yet, once he actually tried it with you he felt like a changed man. The absolute bliss of being truly taken care of for a change was unreal to him. Plus he couldn't remember ever coming that hard in his life, he damn near blacked out.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

With being 6’2, Steve is pretty big in general. Long limbs, lean muscle, and a big cock. You’d been surprised when you first saw him naked, eyes wide. He was a shower and does he show. Sometimes Steve’ll lounge around in his dress pants from work and it’s so easy to tell when he’s turned on when he wears them, the outline clear as day against his thigh.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Steve's sex drive is pretty high, with the stress and adrenaline mixing low in his gut and sizzling when he comes home to you. It’s almost funny how quickly he comes on to you, whispering something low and filthy in your ear when you’re doing chores around the house. Expect some kind of sex a minimum of 4 times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not too quickly because Steve is all about making sure you’re okay. Cleaned up, hydrated, and well taken care of before he can think about his own needs. After you’re tucked into his chest and breathing slowly does Steve even think about finally sleeping, a kiss to your forehead and closing his eyes.

#steve murphy #narcos #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy x you #boyd holbrook #steve murphy alphabet #my writing

186 notes · View notes

jaesqueso · 3 years

Text

The Bachelorette: NCT Edition - Meet the candidates

The season of love is finally here! An interactive series where you’ll get to choose who goes home each week and ultimately who Y/N chooses in the end!

VOTE!!!

Use the above link to vote for your favorite candidate for that final rose and who should be the first five going home! You can vote for the first episode until next friday (11/06) and the episode will come out on sunday (13/06).

taglist: @skrtbabe @yutahoes @mel-yjh

If you’d like to be included in the taglist for the series do let me know ❤︎

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

The bachelorette

Hi, my name is Y/N and I’m looking for my prince charming!

I never had much luck with love so I decided to focus on work instead but my friends are all getting married and keep telling me to find someone too, so here I am!

I’m looking for someone nice who makes me laugh. Someone who cares about me and shows me a good time. Physically I’m not picky but I do appreciate a warm smile and kind eyes.

Hopefully this experience will help me find the person who I’ll get to spend the rest of my life with!

Moon Taeil

My name is Taeil and I’m a gemini.

I’m a relaxed guy who wants to live life peacefully and hopefully meet a girl to share my life with!

*winks*

I like to listen to music and watch movies, not very into physical activities because I don’t like when my muscles are in pain.

*laughs*

I usually notice someone’s eyes first, that’s enough to captivate me. Also I like cute girls.

Fighting!

John Suh

My name is John but everybody calls me Johnny. I’m an Aquarius.

I’m a nice guy who gets along with everyone and my motto is just to have fun! My friends may say I’m clumsy but I think things just get in my way!

*flips hair laughing*

I love reading, watching videos and taking photos. Who knows I may find my new photographic muse.

*winks*

I love cute things, and that includes girls too. I also love girls who smile a lot because I’m always smiling too.

Hopefully I’ll find someone to make my days even brighter!

Lee Taeyong

My name is Taeyong and I’m a Cancer.

People sometimes think I’m cold from the way I look but I promise I’m a kind and caring guy! I have amazing eyes and as you can tell I’m very confident.

*winks*

I don’t like dust and germs so I’ll make sure everybody keeps things clean around here. I’m a perfectionist so I might nag a lot, sorry!

*laughs*

I’m looking for someone who I can learn from and that makes up for my flaws.

Finger crossed I’ll meet someone good for me!

Nakamoto Yuta

My name is Yuta and I’m a Scorpio.

I’m a happy guy who cares a lot about everyone. One thing I can promise is that everybody has a good time around me!

*laughs*

I love to play football and working out, I don’t like sitting around doing nothing! If we can do things in the moment why wait?

*shrugs shoulders*

I like someone who has empathy towards others and doesn’t feel the need to “act pretty”, someone who’s real and humble.

Let’s go!

Qian Kun

My name is Kun and I’m a Capricorn.

I’m a very friendly guy and I’m always there for my friends. I love to cook and make my way into people’s hearts through food.

*winks*

I’m an intelligent guy and I love to do magic tricks so I think if I play my cards right I have a chance to get that final rose.

*wiggles eyebrows*

I’m usually attracted to more feminine women who are innocent.

Abracadabra pick me!

Kim Doyoung

My name is Doyoung and I’m an Aquarius.

I’m a very reliable guy, you can check with my friends! I don’t really like to go out, I’d rather stay in sleeping or eating so I’m looking for someone who’s ok with chilling and cuddling.

*winks*

I’m afraid of animals so hopefully we won’t have to do any interaction with any or I might go back home and take a nap.

*laughs*

I want someone polite that knows how to present themselves and that I can take home to meet the parents!

I’ll make sure she falls in love with me!

Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul

My name is Chittaphon but you can call me Ten because I’m 10/10! I’m a Pisces.

I’m the sweetest guy you’ll ever meet and I know how to make someone feel comfortable. Honestly I can’t see what’s not to like about me!

*shrugs shoulders*

I love sports, drawing and playing with animals. Throw me a cat and I’ll be happy!

*laughs*

I don’t really have an ideal type, but I like to get to know someone before love starts to develop.

I’m excited!

Jung Yoonoh

My name is Yoonoh but most people still call me Jaehyun which was my birth name. I’m an Aquarius.

I’m a happy and cute guy, but I also have a sensitive side. What can I say, I’m the perfect guy to take home to the parents!

*winks*

I’m very into sports and I’m a black belt in taekwondo so you know I’ll take down all the competition!

*laughs*

I like someone who is kind, calm and cute. Someone I can easily communicate with and who I can depend on. Extra points if they’re into sports too!

I’m not saying I’m competitive but I’m here to win this!

Dong Sicheng

My name is Sicheng but you can call me Winwin because if I receive that final rose it will be a win-win situation! I’m a Scorpio.

I’m usually a shy guy specially in front of the camera so I apologise for probably not talking much.

“scratches the back of his head”

I like swimming, watching movies and going on vacation, even though I have a fear of heights but I’m good as long as we stay on the ground! I don’t really like being touched but I can make an exception for a nice girl.

*winks*

I like someone who’s more quiet, like me, and also innocent. I want someone who I can laugh with.

Let’s Winwin!

Kim Jungwoo

My name is Jungwoo and I’m a Pisces.

I’m a sweet guy but I’m also funny, just let me entertain you with my on point impressions, you won’t be able to tell who’s me or the original person!

*laughs*

I like to watch and play soccer and I eat a lot of course to restore my energy!

*winks*

I like a bold girl who’ll take the first step. Someone who is determined, knows hat she wants and does everything to get it.

So come and get me!

Huang Xuxi

My name is Xuxi but I like to go by Lucas. I’m an Aquarius.

I’m a very outgoing guy and I always provide a good time in every sense of the word.

*wiggles eyebrows*

I love spicy food! I have a strong digestive system so I’ll eat a lot but maintain my figure because I also exercise much as you can tell.

*shows off his biceps*

I’m usually attracted to someone sweet, shy and innocent.

My lady c’mon!

Mark Lee

My name is Mark and you can mark me in your heart! I’m a Leo.

I’m a simple guy who likes to hang out with friends and play my guitar, that I obviously brought with me. Who knows, I might serenade someone special.

*winks*

I like to think I’m funny but it seems like others don’t get my jokes… Anyway! I am not great in the kitchen so like maybe it’s safer for everyone if other people take care of the cooking.

*laughs*

I want someone who’s honest and loyal, plain and simple.

Time to shine!

Xiao Dejun

My name is Dejun but you can call me Xiaojun. I’m a Leo.

I’m a more reserved guy, I like to be alone but I have a space saved in my life for a special lady.

*winks*

I like to read, watch movies and write songs. I can play several instruments too so I can write something special in several styles, there’s no way I can get that wrong.

*wiggles eyebrows*

Honesty can get you far with me because I believe that being humble brings more benefits. I also like a girl who can communicate well.

Let’s do this!

Wong Kunhang

My name is Kunhang but my friends call me Hendery so you can too. I’m a Libra.

I’m a very friendly and funny guy, everybody loves me, so I know this girl will too!

*shrugs shoulders*

I love to just take a walk and listen to music. Also I might start dancing when I talk so please don’t be surprised!

*laughs*

I like kind people who’ll help others in need. Also someone independent and family oriented.

Let’s enjoy this experience!

Huang Renjun

My name is Renjun and I’m an Aries.

I may seem like a soft guy but I know when to be cold and firm. I believe that you have to love yourself first to be able to love someone else and we need to love someone for who they are and not try to change them.

*smiles*

I appreciate arts. I like to dance and also to draw. I think I might draw us two together so she can see how good we’ll look and choose me!

*winks*

I like a witty girl who won’t be too sensitive to what I say because I like to be honest.

Let’s love ourselves and each other!

Lee Jeno

My name is Jeno and I’m a Taurus.

I’m an easy going guy that gets along with about everyone. Sometimes I may seem quiet and distant but in some situations I’d rather observe than participate.

*shrugs shoulders*

I like to think I’m funny, even if others say I’m not, I just hope at least I can make this girl laugh!

*laughs*

I’m interested in someone like me, easy going and with a good sense of humour! Also someone who can cook.

For love!

Lee DongHyuck

My name is Donghyuck but that’s the sane me, you can call me Haechan instead! I’m a Gemini.

I have a very bright personality and I can definitely cheer everybody up! I am also very affectionate so don’t mind me giving out free hugs and kisses!

*wiggles eyebrows*

I like tasty food, football and anything related to music. I love to dance and make up my own unique moves so please join me, I’ll teach you.

*winks*

I’m not very picky but I like a girl with good vocals and an easy to listen voice.

Ok cut!

Na Jaemin

My name is Jaemin and I’m a Leo.

I am a very bubbly guy and I might get a bit loud but it’s all in good fashion!

*laughs*

I like to dance and to play the piano. My favorite movie genre is horror but it’s ok if she doesn’t like that, she can always hold on to me if she’s scared.

*wiggles eyebrows*

I want someone who’s humble and that puts peoples needs first. It needs to be someone who I can share my heart with.

Wow, so sexy!

Liu Yangyang

My name is Yangyang, yes it’s not a nickname! I’m a Libra.

I’m an energetic and sweet guy. You can trust me with anything and I can give you a good laugh.

*smiles*

When I was a kid I wanted to be a racer, but now I just want to race my way into this girl’s heart.

*laughs*

I like an adventurous girl who’s affectionate and honest and will have fun with me.

I’m very happy to be here!

Osaki Shotaro

My name is Shotaro and I’m a Sagittarius.

I’m a cheerful and sincere guy, happiness is my middle name! I’m curious, impulsive and adventurous so hopefully I’ll find someone who can keep up!

*winks*

I like to watch mukbangs and to play football, but my favorite thing to do is dance so let’s dance together!

*smiles*

I don’t have an ideal type, I like everybody!

Let’s start the adventure!

Jung Sungchan

My name is Sungchan and I’m a Virgo.

I’m a serene and reliable guy, but I’m also a perfectionist and it’s difficult to convince me of things.

*shrugs shoulders*

I like to exercise and play games. I enjoy sunny days the best and maybe I can find some company to enjoy them with me.

*winks*

I’m just looking for someone that matches well with me.

I’m ready!

Zhong Chenle

My name is Chenle and I’m a Scorpio.

I’m a friendly, cheerful and confident guy, even if people get startled by my laugh.

*laughs in dolphin*

I like to play football, play the piano and cook. I am afraid of spiders so unfortunately it would have to be the girl saving me from them!

*scratches the back of his head*

I don’t have an ideal type.

Ok, let’s do it!

Park Jisung

My name is Jisung and I’m an Aquarius.

I may come up as an awkward guy but I promise I’m nice and funny once you get to know me!

*winks*

I have a good hunch so I’m very good at making decisions. I like to play soccer and video games, but not scary ones because I get startled easily!

*laughs*

The perfect girl for me is someone who I can be friends with first.

Let’s live this moment!

58 notes · View notes

kurowrites · 4 years

Note

Because I think your fluff is such a delight, Modern AU Wangxian, "A trip to Bunnyland: A magical place for bunny lovers" 🌼🐰🌈💕😆

Lan Zhan loves bunnies. He also loves petting bunnies. But loving bunnies doesn’t mean that he’ll publicly admit to that, and it doesn’t mean he will ever visit a place like Bunnyland. When he was younger and still dependent on adults, his uncle would have immediately dismissed the request to take him to visit such a place, and even now, he feels he will end up being out of place if he went. He’s an adult now, for one, and petting zoos are places for children. He’s also not good with crowds. That’s why he’ll never go to Bunnyland.

(Un)fortunately for him, Wei Ying has other ideas and a pair of well-working eyes. He sees Lan Zhan gaze longingly at a Bunnyland poster once, and decides that Lan Zhan definitely needs more fun in his life. So he strongarms invites him to an outing to Bunnyland.

Mind you, they are just friends, and this is Not A Date.

All in the name of friendship and some cuddle therapy for Lan Zhan. He definitely needs it.

So they go. To Bunnyland. On the weekend. Which again, is not a Date. They have to take the train, because the place is somewhere out in the countryside, with enough nature and space for all these bunnies.

When they finally arrive and are left to their own bunny-petting devices, it’s hard to say who the more excited of the two is. Lan Zhan, because he’s never seen so many bunnies in one place, or Wei Ying, who’s just genuinely charmed by Lan Zhan’s massive though understated excitement? Well, it doesn’t really matter in the end. They both have a great time.

They pet more bunnies than they can count, and Wei Ying might possibly die a few times in between when he sees how soft and caring Lan Zhan is with the little furballs (it’s criminal, for a grown man to look so good while spoiling a fat rabbit, Wei Ying’s heart is not made for this).

And sometimes Lan Zhan will hand him a particularly docile rabbit to pet, or offers Wei Ying to pet the rabbit he’s currently holding, and their hands will touch, and Wei Ying starts to wonder if he has undiagnosed heart issues. Because such a wildly thumping heart can’t exactly be normal.

But somehow, Wei Ying escapes with his life, and Lan Zhan treats him to lunch. They both have a ridiculous but very cute curry with the rice served in bunny-shape. It’s surprisingly delicious, even though Lan Zhan orders the mildest version of it and Wei Ying the hottest, and they would never be able to agree on a suitable amount of spices.

So yeah, they have a full day of bunny-cuddling, longing glances and surreptitious hand touching. It’s a good day. It’s also not a date.

Finally the time comes to return home, and they leave Bunnyland bunny-free (though not for a lack of trying on Wei Ying’s side).

They go to the train station to take their train home…

…and are informed that due to some accident somewhere down the tracks, the entire lane is currently blocked.

And no, they don’t know when the trains will run again.

Wei Ying is like “oh no” and Lan Zhan ALMOST tells him that he can simply call for a car to come pick them up. It might take a while, but it’s possible.

And then he realises that 1. tomorrow is Sunday and 2. there was a really cute little hotel at Bunnyland. They can perfectly well spend the night there. He has the finances. It’s less trouble for everyone. It’s a perfectly viable solution.

So he’s like “Nn.” and marches Wei Ying back to Bunnyland.

He gets that room. Because other patrons had the same idea as him, only double beds are left by now. But Lan Zhan is Determined now, and he soldiers on regardless.

So they end up in a bunny-themed hotel room pretending they’re not stealing glances at each other as they change into bunny-themed pyjamas after they’ve eaten another bunny-themed meal, and then they gingerly lie down on that double bed, pretending they’re not both dying inside, the tiniest little bit.

And then they talk. And Wei Ying, never able to resist Lan Zhan’s general Lan-Zhan-ness, starts teasing him, poking at him, until Lan Zhan flips them around and holds him down.

“Wow,” Wei Ying thinks to himself, like a dumbass. “I hope that doesn’t awaken anything in me.”

(It’s approximately three years too late for that now.)

Blushing, they separate and move to their proper sides of the bed, shamefully silent.

That goes on for like 5 minutes until Wei Ying can’t take it anymore, turns back around, and attaches himself to Lan Zhan.

“I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?” he asks, like a dumbass, squishing his face into Lan Zhan’s back.

“I’m never mad at Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan replies.

“Liar.” Wei Ying laughs. “I annoy you all the time! Look at me now! I’m annoying you again, sticking to you like a leech!”

There is a beat of silence, and then Lan Zhan, “I like it when Wei Ying is close to me.”

And then they lie in the dark, slient for far too long, stewing in their mutual pining, and trying to figure out what to do now.

The answer is, of course: to pine more ridiculously.

#kuro answers #anonymous #mdzs headcanons #wangxian

434 notes · View notes

askyourwritergrandma · 3 years

Note

How do you make time to write? A lot of advice I've seen relies heavily on being able to arrange your own schedule, but I work an office job 8-5 and cannot work from home, so between that and having other adult person responsibilities like chores and community commitments, the advice I've seen just isn't applicable to me. Do you have any tips that might help?

Well anon, I will say that this is exactly the type of question I was hoping I was going to get but also probably one of the hardest to answer.

I've run the gambit through my time writing, from a stressed out high school kid, to a jobless moocher spending all my time cranking out stories, to fully-time employed but incredibly anti-social, to a full time job and a kid, to school, a job and a kid and the truth is that there is no perfect answer to this question.

So lets go ahead and dispel the myth that if you just really, really want it bad enough you can make it work. While some people thrive on giving 125% of themselves, but we mere mortals among them have drag our corpses to the finish line because there are only so many hours in the day and only so much energy we have to give.

How do you make time for your writing in reality? Let's discuss:

First off, take the pressure off yourself. I'm not sure if your situation is that you're here for writing as a hobby or writing as a job aspiration but either way you're going, its okay if you don't have writing time every day, every other day or even every week. Sometimes our greatest enemy is our own brains telling us that we HAVE TO DO IT or we ARE TOTAL FRAUDS.

You can write once a year and still be a writer. You can write once every two years and be a writer. You define what you are.

Practically speaking, take a look at your schedule and see if there is any point during the week that you can reliably have X amount of time to concentrate on your writing. When you're taking a look, aim for a block of time where you have at least 30 minutes before you start actually writing to warm yourself up or get yourself in the right mood. It doesn't matter how long you give yourself to write for the week (every two weeks or every month), an hour, a half an hour or five hours. If it's possible, put it in your schedule and make yourself unavailable to other commitments. This is your time for you and a hobby that makes you happy.

During the week (or the interim between when you can write, however long) keep your energy up for your story with daydreaming. If you're a friend who keeps notes on stories jot down random ideas you've got. Scene ideas/dialogue snippets/etc. If you have a writing buddy or a writing group that you chat with, start up a casual conversation with them about your character doing something.

(My friends/family are unfortunately used to me randomly sending messages like "just decided Billy isn't a vampire he just likes the taste of blood".)

Reread your stuff when you've got a minute, waiting in line? In bed before you fall asleep? Keeping it in mind keeps your mind working on it and MOST of your writing happens before you get to a keyboard/piece of paper.

Schedule yourself rest time that is not spent on writing. This is why when I was working full time and had a 3 year old, my only writing time was Sunday afternoon. I worked Monday through Friday 8 to 6 and could not have produced 1 singular creative word on Saturday if my family's life depended on it. For me, the only way to recharge was to rest and my only rest day was Sunday morning.

Those are some things that you can do but what you absolutely should not do is set yourself up in a situation of perpetuating failure. If you try to force yourself to sit down after a long day at work where you're physically and emotionally drained and try to pump out some fiction, you're most likely going to hate it. Even if all the experts tell you to sit and write regardless and teach yourself to love it, the fact is a tired brain is like a tired child all it's going to do is hate everything and refuse to eat its chicken nuggets.

And it learns that writing time is failure time and it translates that into I am a writing failure.

Is that true? No, of course its not true. You're a writer, and you're brilliant, and we believe in you.

#writing help #writing problems #writing is hard

11 notes · View notes

gallavictorious · 3 years

Note

Do you think Mickey feels he got closure with terry?

Short answer and based on what we’ve seen so far: not really, no. Or rather: not yet.

Long (and I do mean really quite long) answer below.

Admittedly, writing on this topic now, before we’ve seen how Mickey deals with the aftermath of Terry’s death in the next episode, strikes me as a bit of a fool’s errand, because what we get on Sunday will (probably, hopefully) offer us more insight into how he feels about his dad and their relationship now. But I am fascinated with the subject, so I’m going to go ahead and indulge in rambling, though with the proviso that everything below is a tentative analysis that might well need to be revised once 11x09 has aired. As always, I’m glad of other people’s input, because I suspect I’m nowhere near done forming my opinion on this.

Before we start, I’d like to note that this post solely and specifically addresses how Mickey reacts to his dad and trauma on the show; it’s not a statement on how actual live trauma victims should or should not relate to their abusers. That really, really isn’t for me to say. Okay?

All right, then. Let’s get to it:

Following 10x12 I thought that Mickey was pretty much done with Terry; as far as he was concerned, that bridge was burned once Terry burned down The Bamboo Lotus, and even though they must have reached some sort of unspoken cold war type of truce (ie not actively trying to kill one another) Mickey seemed content to ignore his dad. No more asking for advice; no more helping out with various “jobs”; no more attempts at some semblance of a relationship, be it a cordial one or a murderous one. What we got in 11x06 didn’t really change that: seeing Terry thus weakened understandably stirred a lot of emotion in Mickey but both his choice not to kill his dad and his choice to eventually help him have arguably less to do with Terry or Mickey’s relationship to him, and more to do with what sort of person Mickey wants to be. At that point, he chooses to be a man stepping away from his father’s hateful legacy, wanting to be better than that. (And by God, Mickey dearest, you are so much better than that.) And that could have been the end of it, you know? That could have been closure of a sort – not in the sense that it in any way healed the wounds of the past, but in the sense that it signified Mickey finding a way to live with the hurt that allows him to move forward.

Now, we knew (from the episode descriptions) this wasn’t the end of their story, but I was still surprised by Mickey’s overt preoccupation with Terry in 11x08. This isn’t just someone doing the (more than) decent thing to be a decent person, this is genuine concern for Terry’s welfare – and while part of it might be tied to the ingrained idea that “family is family” and while Mickey is still very much aware of the fact that Terry is an utter piece of shit, it’s very hard not to read this as Mickey – once more, and probably without fully acknowledging it– being driven by a latent wish for his father’s approval, that need for connection. (As I’ve argued before, I think that’s why Ian’s not necessarily very enthusiastic about Mickey’s dedication, even though he thinks everyone should receive aid and even though he probably is quite taken with Mickey being so caring.)

But while I didn’t really see it coming, I do like it. I get why you’d rather have him finally and vocally and possibly violently denounce his dad; it’d be cathartic, surely, for a lot of people to see that. But to me, what we get feels truer to the complex push and pull of their fractured bond and is quite frankly more interesting to me because it is messy and complicated and unfinished. Terry is a nightmare; he’s still Mickey’s dad; the relationship between an abusive parent and a child is often highly complex, and I think the show has done a consistently good job of showing that. 11x08 is no exception. You might think Mickey should tell his dad to fuck of once and for all because Terry doesn’t deserve Mickey’s time or devotion (I mean, he really doesn’t), but I find it highly realistic that Mickey would opt for this instead now that it’s a possibility. (It’s relevant to note, I think, that Mickey only allows himself to approach Terry again when Terry is helpless and not in a position to actually harm him; Mickey’s ultimately in control here, and I think that’s very important.)

So yeah, I think Mickey is searching for something from his dad still, but I don’t think he quite gets it. Can’t get it, really.

See, I believe that Terry, to some small degree at least, regrets not having a better relationship with Mickey: that’s how I read “you’d probably have made a half-decent son”. However, his regret isn’t tied to any notions of “I wish I’d been better and given another chance I’d try to do things differently” but instead an expression of “yeah, it suck’s that you’re gay so I had to hate you”. It’s not an acceptance of responsibility or even a vague hint of being willing to change or to accept Mickey for who he is, and because of that – because Terry is not willing or able to change and because Mickey will no longer accept anything less – Mickey’s potential but unvoiced dreams of reconciliation cannot be fulfilled. (And let’s be clear: even if Terry did repent and changed and made what amends he could that doesn’t undo or make up for the damage he has done and Mickey has zero obligation to forgive him or spend even another second in his company.)

So it’s not enough – what could be? – but it is something. A grudging acknowledgment of Mickey’s good qualities, an admission that he is desirable as a son – or would be, if it weren’t for that one thing. :/ It’s recognition and rejection all wrapped into one, and I really like Mickey’s response: he makes it clear that he knows that he’s not the problem here and that he’s fully aware of what an evil bastard Terry is but that he still chooses to be there; chooses to feed Terry and find him a nurse, rather than scoop his eyeballs out or piss on him or use his mouth for a fucking ashtray.

It reminds me of a passage from the Swedish novel Beartown by Fredrik Backman: “She will hold all the power in that moment, but she will spare him. She doesn’t forgive, she doesn’t pardon, she merely spares him. He will always know it.” (2017[2016]:466, my translation.)

It’s remarkable too, I find, that Mickey doesn’t try to hide his hurt here: he allows himself to be vulnerable, to let his father see the pain he has caused. And Terry doesn’t pounce on it; he doesn’t scorn Mickey’s “weakness” or argue with his denunciation; he accepts the judgement and opens his mouth to accept the food without further protest, accepting – in that moment, at least – what Mickey chooses to give him. He concedes his loss of power and his dependance on the son he tortured and disowned. (But it’s not like he gives fully either – there’s no apology, no thanks, no actually asking for help: he just opens his mouth. It’s a lot for Terry, and I think we can acknowledge that, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is an utter and total asshole – and I’m glad that the show didn’t have him do more, because that would have felt… unlikely to me.)

It’s such a small thing, and so far less than what Mickey deserves, but probably more than he expected at this point. In time I think it will be helpful to him, to have gotten even this much, but at the time of Terry’s death I’d argue that it adds to rather than lessens Mickey’s burden. Because it’s possible that this could serve as a bookend to their relationship: not a reconciliation but as much of peace as they’ll ever know – eyes lifted to momentarily meet across the abyss in one brief instance of seeing, and being seen by, one another. But going only by what we get in 11x08 I don’t think that this is quite it, and rather than Mickey (in the moment) taking this as the final word or where they stand I think that he – in spite of everything Terry has done – can’t help but think of this exchange as an opening, the potential start of something. Not sure it’s a conscious thing, or how comfortable he is with this notion, because of course he is still very angry with and hates his dad, but consider the way he keeps looking at his phone and insisting they check back in with the nurse: that’s not the actions of someone who has laid things to rest and let it go, that’s Mickey doubling down on being a concerned son and… Yeah. As things stand, I tend to think that he was hoping against hope that maybe, possibly–

And then Terry is dead and Mickey is left with all of his conflicting emotions and nothing to do with them. It’d have been easier, probably, if it hadn’t been for that tiny, tiny softening; that small flare of hope I think Mickey might be quite angry with himself for feeling, if he admits to feeling it at all. It’d be easier if he could just hate Terry, you know?

Now, we don’t know what Mickey would have done if Terry (and that’s a big fucking if) had ever indicated any actual regret. But whether Mickey would have wanted that opportunity to rekindle a relationship with his father or if he’d have used to spit in Terry’s face and spend five hours telling him why Mickey would never forgive him and felt nothing but hatred and revulsion for him, that choice was forever and finally taken from him.

However, I don’t think this means that Mickey won’t find closure; I believe he will, and I think – hope – that we’ll get to see some of that in the next episode. Because the thing about Terry not being willing or able to change means that he would never have been able to give Mickey what he truly needed anyway (and as mentioned, even if he did change there’s no undoing his crimes). It was always going to come down to Mickey finding a way to live with the scars; finding a way to make some sort of peace with the past (which doesn’t have to include making peace with Terry at all) and to let it be the past. He doesn’t strictly speaking need Terry for that and given what an asshole Terry is, maybe it’s actually easier to manage it when he’s not around to fuck it up.

So yeah. It’s not likely to be sweet or neat or even very conclusive – these things rarely are and recovery is a process – but I think that Mickey will get some closure one way or another, and I believe that in the end he’ll be glad for the tiny moment they shared just before Terry’s death, even if it’s a complicating factor now.

(It should also be noted that Terry isn’t horrible just as an evil response to Mickey being gay; he was plenty horrible to him and the rest of his kids outside of that too. Consider Mickey listing the awful things Terry did when Mickey was just a kid; consider Mandy telling Debbie in season 5 that she learned how to cover up a bruise form living with Terry. The attempted murder(s) and corrective rape and disowning Mickey was a result of Terry’s virulent homophobia, but he was an awful father long before he knew Mickey was gay. So even without the homophobia, there’d be a hell of a lot to hate him for.)

There’s certainly more to say on this topic, and I think that we’ll have reason to return to it come Sunday - but for now, that’s most of my thoughts, I think.

#thank you for the very interesting ask nonnie #have 2k words in response #11x08 #mickey milkovich #terry milkovich #meta #asks

18 notes · View notes

mayraki · 4 years

Text

The Trained Assassin.

Spencer Reid series. Part 6.

Not my gif! Credits to the owner.

Summary: Life’s not easy when you found out that instead of being trained to be a spy for the CIA, you are being trained to be an assassin, a killer. The people you wanted to stop, they were making you one. That’s when you joined the BAU to become someone new, you didn’t want to be someone’s toy. You wanted your past to be arrased, that’s all. But it’s not easy to hide a past like that.

MASTERLIST

“Maxim”

Having the weekend off was not what you wanted, you wanted to go back to work on Friday but Hotch insisted you to take the day off and the weekend as well. He knew that you weren’t alright since the last case, and he was right.

God, I hate profilers.

You weren’t able to sleep well and you didn’t have the appetite to eat anything. You had big bags under your eyes and since Hotch noticed that you couldn’t keep your hands out of a cup of coffee he made the decision to make you have three days off.

“Good job, number 15!” The coach of the basketball team said to one of his students.

You saw your little brother, Maxim, with his curls all over his face and when he saw you he waved with a big smile on his face.

“What are you doing here?” He said once the practice was over. He was all sweaty from the running and he had his big t-shirt on.

“Well, I’m not working right now. So I decided to come and see my little brother. Is that wrong? I can’t see you now?” You said pretending to be hurt.

“No! It’s not that. I mean how did you get in? I thought family couldn’t come in practice on a private school”

“Well, little brother, your big sis has connections.” You winked at him. “I was thinking...” you put your arm around his shoulders “since I have this weekend off, would you like to come and spend it with me?”

He gave you a bigger smile and hugged you “Sure! Let me pack my things, I’ll be ready in five minutes.” And he took off like his life depended on it. You laughed and waited for him at the giant outside door of his school.

“Can we watch Star Wars?” He asked once you two finished dinner.

It was Saturday night and the last two days went amazingly. You missed your little brother more than ever and you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, with your work and his school it was impossible to spend an entire day together. So you wanted to save this weekend on you memory and remember every single detail.

“Really? Max, you always want to watch Star Wars. Let’s pick something else, I think I can say the entire lines from Star Wars 2 perfectly.”

“It’s not ‘Star Wars 2’” he mocked you “it’s Star Wars episode V: the empire strikes back. And you would know that if you watched it with me tonight.” You laughed.

“First of all, that’s not how I talk! Secondly... sure. You win.”

He applauded excited “I always win.” He said with pride.

“Sure, little one.”

You were half into the movie when you heard knocking on your door. Both of you turned your heads to the door and Max paused the movie.

“Stay here.” You said and got up. “Who is it?”

“It’s Spencer.” The voice said on the other side.

What the hell is he doing here on a Saturday night at 10 pm?

You opened the door and Spencer was there with a big bag on his hand.

“Hi.” He said and Max appeared next to you.

“Who are you?” He said suspicious.

“Hi...?” Spencer said looking at Max and then at you looking confused.

“Spencer, this is Max, my little bother. Max, this is Spencer, I work with him in the BAU.”

Spencer recognised the little boy. He was the one that you had on your desk, the picture that you hanged up your first day.

“I— you weren’t answering your cellphone. I thought something was wrong.” He said still looking at Max who wasn’t trusting Spencer at all.

“Well, you saw that she’s ok. You can go now.” Max said trying to close the door but you stopped him.

“Max.” He looked at you with a serious face. He mumbled a ‘sorry’ and you went back to Spencer.

“I brought something to eat. Some snacks. I know how much you like them...”

“Food?” Max said watching the bag “Ok, you can come in.” He said after seconds of thinking about it.

He stood aside and Spencer walked in.

“Hey, I think I need to remind you that this is my apartment.”

Max turned to you and hold up the bag Spencer gave to him “But he brought food! I think is really rude if you take the bag and let him outside, y/n”

You opened your mouth with surprise but you couldn’t help it and let out a little laugh “I taught you well.” You said sarcastically and Spencer laughed.

“You were watching Star Wars?” Spencer asked looking at the TV.

Max nodded “you like it?” He said putting the Doritos on a bowl.

“Love it. One of my favorites after Star Strek.”

“Oh my god, I have two nerds in this house now, this is going to be a long night.” You said jokingly.

“Favorite character?” Max asked. “Answer quick and there is a wrong answer.”

“Chewbacca, of course. And Luke Skywalker is my second.”

“Nice.” Max said almost in a whisper. “You know, I can tell you’re cool. I thought you were a jerk who was trying to get into my sister’s pants but now I see that you’re more than that.”

You opened your mouth with surprise and Spencer chocked on his drink. “Max!” You said and he turned to you with ‘innocence’ in his face.

“What? C’mon. It’s Saturday night and he brought snacks expecting to come into your house, he knows you wouldn’t say no. It’s not that big of deal. He’s a man, y/n, you should know that. I’m 13, i might be young, but I’m not stupid.” He said giving you a smile and going back to the sofa to keep watching the movie.

You couldn’t believe what Max just said, and you didn’t want to admit it but he was kind of right.

“I’m sorry...” you said looking at Spencer.

“It’s ok... I guess that is the impression that I gave him. But it’s not true.” He said quickly “I did come here to see if you were ok.”

“I believe you, don’t worry.” You said with a smile.

He seemed relieved and you let out a little laugh.

***

“You know, I don’t know if this is an unpopular opninion or not, but I kinda liked the end of Star Wars.” Max said without breaking the eye contact with the TV.

It was almost midnight when you three started watching the next movie of the franchise. You were sitting down at the couch but Spencer and Max were sitting down at the floor so they could see the TV better.

Spencer was across from you when he started talking about his opinion on something, you couldn’t understand what it was because they started talking about some fiction and space stuff you didn’t know.

So you took the chance to look at him in detail. The way his hands moved when he was saying a weird fact, he had a sharp jawline and it tensed every time he closed his mouth. His lips moved quickly and his eyes didn’t look away from the screen. His skin looked like it was very soft and your hands moved unintentionally because they wanted to feel it.

He let his left hand rest on his thigh and the thought of him touching yours made an appearance on your mind. His fingers going up and down, making you feel worm inside while he was kissing you...

“Y/n!” Your brother called you and took you back to reality.

“Yeah?” You said trying to not sound nervous at the thought of your imagination.

“Could you bring me more water?” He said without taking his eyes from the TV.

“Am I your servant now?” You said raising your left eyebrow.

“Sorry!” He said thinking of his previous actions but when he was about to stand up Spencer stopped him.

“I’ll do it, I know this part like the palm of my hand.”

“Thank you!” Max said.

You watched him go to the counter of you kitchen and he opened the fridge. His shirt went up a little bit when he lifted his arm to open the water bottle and you unintentionally bit you lower lip. When you noticed you moved uncomfortably on the couch and tried to move your attention to the movie but the sound of the water doing down the glass cup made you look.

Spencer’s tongue went over his lips and the tough of it licking your skin made you close your eyes and smacking you on the inside because you didn’t want to have those kinda thoughts.

You turned your body so it would face the TV and not the kitchen but your eyes wanted to go back to him. You tried so hard to not go back until Spencer came into the living room. But instead of going back to his last position, after giving the glass to Max, he sat down next to you close enough so your shoulders would slightly touch.

Does he know what he’s doing?

You were glad the movie was over minutes later and that Spencer offered himself to clean the mess him and Max did while watching the movie.

This was new to you, you were always the one that made the first move, you were never the one who falls first and the fact that he wasn’t even trying made your heart go down to the floor even more.

“What time is it?” Max asked while he was doing the dishes.

“Almost 1 am.” Spencer said and you got close to your little brother.

“It’s pretty late, you should go to bed.” You said and Max give you his famous puppy eyes.

“But... it’s Sunday tomorrow!”

“You told me that you had homework for the weekend and you haven’t done it yet, you’re not going to wake up late tomorrow.”

“One more hour.” He smiled and hugged you “you know that you’re an amazing big sister and the best friend I could ever ask for?”

“You’re not going to win, but you can stay until 1:30 am. And say thanks to Spencer because I’m doing this because he’s here.”

Spencer gave you a smile and Max hugged him after letting you go.

“Thank you, thank you so much for coming.”

He laughed “You’re welcome. Hey, do you want to see some magic tricks?”

“You know magic tricks?” Max said sounding surprised “You’re so cool. Hey, sis, don’t ever let him go.” He said when he left to look for the cards he had on his backpack.

“Max!” You whispered to him and Spencer just let out a little laugh.

Your little brother handed the cards to Spencer and he started the magic trick. He was moving the cards fast and his fingers were following every move he made. You couldn’t take your eyes off of them and the thought of them going up your arms appeared on your mind. They were tracing you body like it was a piece of art. But now it’s wasn’t only the fingers that were in your imagination, but Spencer was there too. He was looking at you with his beautiful dark eyes and his lips went to your stomach to leave little kisses on it. He was sitting down in your bed and you standing in front of him and...

“Wow!” Max said and took you back to reality “How did you do that?”

Fuck! I have to stop.

“I’ll teach you some.”

Oh, no. He’s not going to stop. I have to get out here.

“I’ll be right back.” You said and both of them nodded, Spencer give a you a little smile but you didn’t respond because you wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.

You washed your face and looked for the time; 1:24 am. Six more minutes and the magic tricks were done because Max needed to go to bed. And the thought of you and Spencer being alone for the first time in the entire night made your heart skip a beat.

You were not usually like this, you never got nervous when it came to boys. You had your experience and even when it wasn’t for your personal life but for a mission, seducing mafia bosses and security guards like it was the easiest thing in the world. And for some reason you couldn’t handle a man who was doing magic tricks and touching your shoulder with his.

What is it about him?

You came back to the kitchen when the hour 1:30 hit on the clock and Max looked at you with excitement on his face.

“Hey, y/n! Let me show you a trick Spencer just teach me!”

“You’ll show it to me tomorrow, now it’s time for bed.”

He looked at the clock and his excitement went away completely.

“Ok.” He said turning to Spencer “I’ll see you. Bye.”

“Goodnight Max.”

“Yeah.” He said and went to his room.

“Want some tea?” You said and Spencer nodded.

“Sure.”

When you started to make the tea you felt his body walk behind you and stand next to you.

“Want some help?” He said almost in a whisper but you said ‘no’ with your head and gave him a little smile. You went to the other side of the kitchen to grab some mugs and pour the tea you just made into them.

“Here.” You handed the cup to Spencer and he thanked you giving you a big smile. “I guess you have some questions about Max.” You said remember the face he made when he met him.

He looked at the floor “I thought you didn’t have any family, that’s why I was so surprised.”

“I don’t have any blood family.”

He put on his thinking face and his tongue went over his lips. And before he asked any questions you started telling the story.

“When I was 22 I had a mission... I had to infiltrate a mafia boss’ bussiness. I had to get close to him and make him trust me. It was the longest undercover mission I went on. Making him trust me was not easy. He was one of the most frightening men that I’ve ever met. And worst, had to lie to. But when I was close enough, that’s when I met Maxim. He introduced him as his son. He was a scare 11 year old boy. We connected immediately. The things that he had to see when he was little, what he went through. This man wasn’t the loving father he needed. Later on I found out that this man abducted him when he was just a little baby. I finished the mission, the man went to jail and his business went down. The CIA decided to not involve anyone else and give Max up for adoption but I knew that its not easy getting adopted being a teenager. I didn’t want him to end up like me. So... I brought him home with me. I worked on a case with a detective, I saved his life and in returned I asked him if his brother would give Max a scholarship on his private school... that’s the story. I can’t believe that the scared boy that I met two years ago is the funny and smart kid that I know now. He’s so strong. We call each other like siblings because we are the only thing we have.”

“You took him in even tho you were so young...” he said looking at you in the eyes.

“I didn’t see myself as being ‘young’. And I didn’t care, I never got adopted and when I did, it was them. I didn’t want him to be like me.”

“Do you ever think what it would’ve happend if you got adopted when you were younger?” He put his empty cup on the counter and walked towards you so he can stand next to you.

“I used to. I try to think how can I make this life better and forget about the past. Try to make a great life for him and be... happy.” You looked up to him and he gave you a little smile.

“It’s weird how our lives can change in a matter of seconds. One day mine is really boring and the next I go on a date with an assassin.” He said jokingly and you laughed. You remembered the day that Spencer asked you to go for coffee on your first case together.

“Hey... I’m not an assassin, I’m just trained like one.” You smiled and looked at him in the eyes.

But unintentionally looked at his lips and he did the same, you felt the tension growing up in the room and everything that used to make you feel sad and unsafe, went away.

“Spencer...” you said “you said to me... ‘I need you alive.”

His eyes went up to yours and he gently grabbed your waist to get you closer to him. You moved on step forward and felt his chest touch yours.

“I do.” He said in a whisper and when he was about to get closer to you, his phone started to ring making you two jump and ruining the moment completely.

He took his phone out from his pocket and you read the name ‘Sophie’ on the screen. He hanged up and sighed.

“Sorry...” He said without looking at you.

“Are you sure your girlfriend is ok with you being here with me?” You said without even thinking. Anger grew in your body and went to the door to open it and Spencer followed you.

“Wait, y/n, she’s just a friend.”

“A friend that calls you at 2 am on a Saturday night? If she was really a close friends you wouldn’t hang up because the common thing to think when someone calls you out of nowhere at this hours it’s that something’s wrong unless the girl is not really a friend and that is a booty call. I am a good profiler too, Spencer. Goodnight.” Before he could say anything you closed the door and stand there, with the feeling of being lost back into your body.

*****

PART 7

taglist: @itsarayofsunshine @whothefuckstolemykeds @haykayhesson @enigma-xlii @introvertedsin @mylovehes @infires420 @uwu-sebastianstan @my-life-is-here-soo @spencersdolore @oldspirit

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #spencer reid #spencer reid smut

233 notes · View notes

yellowmagicalgirl · 4 years

Text

(the garrote killing me is made of your) heartstrings

Wizards whose powers awaken at a young age stopped aging in their late teens until they meet their soulmate. That didn't mean that Douxie expected to meet his soulmate any time soon, however.

This was inspired by that one tumblr post where you start aging again when you meet your soulmate. Warning for discussions of death as well as mild body horror concerning Akiridion biology.

AO3

FFN

“So, how did you manage the whole living for 900 years thing?” Claire asked. The two of them were in Douxie’s old bedchambers; they spoke quietly to avoid waking Steve up.

“By taking it one day at a time,” Douxie said. Some of those days had been better than others. Some of those days the only thing that had kept Douxie alive was that one day, Merlin would come back and need Douxie.

“Er, I actually meant the fact that you haven’t aged from now to when we left Arcadia... I hate time travel.”

“Oh. That’s actually simpler. Wizards whose powers awaken at a young age stop aging in their late teens until they meet their soulmate. Then, if they want to gain their immortality back they have to kill their soulmate. I mean, it’s still really hard to kill a wizard if they’ve met their soulmate, but I just haven’t aged in about nine centuries.”

“How do you know, that someone’s your soulmate?”

Douxie blinked. That wasn’t a question he expected Claire to ask. “Why, I thought you had more faith in me. I would never kill my soulmate.”

Claire raised her hands apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! I just... I guess you’ve never met yours, so it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry I asked.”

Douxie glanced toward the dungeon. She was probably asking about Jim. “There was this guy, back in the early nineteenth century, and at the time I thought he might’ve been my soulmate. Obviously, he wasn’t, but I loved him nonetheless. And like I said, if you have to struggle with immortality, then you have to take it one day at a time. Live in the moment. And yeah, outliving your loved ones is hard. But there’s upsides to immortality as well.”

Douxie walked into Hex Tech, thankful to see a short girl with pink hair pinned neatly into place. He didn’t trust any other hedge mage like he did Zoe. Douxie walked up to her. Her, and a boy at the front desk shoving something into a backpack.

And as he bore the wrath of the boy Douxie had technically cut in front of, Douxie felt something unlock deep within him.

Surely, it was just a feeling of familiarity, and safety, from being in a place where the Arcane Order wouldn’t find them.

Douxie came home to the shared studio apartment to find Archie and Nari talking in low voices. That... wasn’t exactly a good sign. It wasn’t automatically a bad sign, but it wasn’t exactly good.

“Douxie,” Archie said gravely as Douxie put away his keys. “Have you noticed anything different, in the past two months?”

“Uh, we’re in New York?” After a week of making their way around the continent and setting up false magical signatures for Nari, the three of them had buried themselves in a small, crowded part of New York City. The Arcane Order wouldn’t be able to find them here. Also, Merlin was dead as opposed to just asleep, but Douxie was trying not to think about that.

“Other than that,” Archie said. Douxie shook his head in response.

“You’re aging,” Nari said.

“What? No.” Douxie couldn’t be aging, he still had so much to do. He protected the Earth for about 900 years and he planned to keep doing so. He planned on protecting Nari for eternity if he needed to. If he was now mortal, then he wouldn’t be able to do so. “I don’t have time to be aging.”

“We all knew it would happen eventually,” Archie said. “Who do you think your soulmate is?”

“I...” The problem was, Douxie had only met one person whom Douxie had thought was his soulmate. That man died a little less than two centuries ago. It had been for the best, really. If Douxie’s lover had been his soulmate, he wouldn’t have been able to meet Merlin again in Arcadia Oaks. Who knew what he could accomplish if he lived long enough that he would still be around two centuries from now? “I don’t know.”

“Give me your hand,” Nari said, “and I can try to find them.”

Douxie obediantly stuck out his left hand, and Nari took it in her own. She closed her eyes. Her hands glowed with green light, and illusory vines wrapped around Douxie’s hand and floated in the air. The vines then disappeared, and her hands stopped glowing. Nari opened her eyes.

“That is strange,” Nari said. “I can sense the living soul of every being of this planet. But your soulmate is not one of them.”

“So... my soulmate is dead?” Despite Douxie’s frustration with aging, he still felt a shallow pang of grief. It wasn’t fair. If he had to once more age, then he’d want to meet and get to know the destined person that Douxie was intended to die for. And instead, he wouldn’t even get that.

“I do not know,” Nari said. “Your soulmate’s soul could be in the Shadow Realm, like Jim’s was.”

“We need to find a way to better hide you and the seals, or even find a way to defeat Bellroc and Skrael for good,” Douxie said. “The Arcane Order has forever. I’ve got, what? Eighty years?”

“Or longer, if we use the right spells, or...” Archie trailed off, looking away. Douxie frowned. It must be hard on Archie, to know that he would definitely outlive Douxie. Dragons could live for three or four millennia, after all.

“We can’t be sure, but we think that you might be aging slightly slower than the average human,” Nari said.

“Could it be because I died?” Nari and Archie flinched as the words left Douxie’s mouth.

“I don’t know,” Nari said. “You’ll have to give me time.”

That was something Douxie was running out of.

“So, I was thinking,” Claire said as she rummaged through Douxie’s pantry, looking for a snack. She was quite the prodigy, having progressed quite far in the year and seven months that Douxie had been training her. The two of them had come back to his apartment after setting up decoys for the Arcane Order in various locations across Central and South America. “Jim’s mentioned that he wants to find a way to return to his troll form, but not permanently. And my first thought was maybe making him a changeling, but then we’d have to kidnap someone.”

“Not a good idea,” Archie said. “Hand me that can of tuna?”

“Exactly,” Claire said as she passed along the can. “But, we might be able to adapt Akiridion transduction so Jim can choose if he wants to be a human or a troll. So, what do you say to bringing Krel into this project?”

“Sure,” Douxie said. A couple days after Douxie had left Arcadia Oaks, Steve had added Douxie to a group text with the other Guardians of Arcadia. Douxie and Krel had started talking on their own a couple months after that. It would be nice to see Krel in person again. “Do you or Jim want to ask him, or should I?”

Claire brought Krel with her through a shadow portal soon after noon the next Sunday. Krel looked around, fidgeting his fingers along the edge of his jaw. Douxie expected to be annoyed that in the time since Douxie and Krel had first met, Krel had grown taller in his Akiridion form. They were no longer the same height, which had been... oddly nice, for reasons Douxie couldn’t name. Krel was now tall enough that his hair brushed against the ceiling of the apartment. Douxie wondered if it naturally grew that way, or if Krel had to spend time using products to make it stand up. From all the time the two of them had texted each other, Krel didn’t seem like the type of guy to spend a lot of time and gel spiking his hair every day, and Douxie had once been the type of guy to spend a lot of time and gel each day, making sure his hair was nice and spiky.

A small pang of grief for his lost immortality came with the memory of the old, somewhat cringe-worthy hairstyle. Douxie had mostly adjusted to his newfound mortality, but it still hurt sometimes. He, Nari, and Archie still hadn’t made any progress on the topic of Douxie’s soulmate, either.

Douxie forced himself to stop staring at Krel. Yes, Krel was attractive in a way that caught him off guard. There was something about the way his face now looked that made him look regal, moreso than Arthur and Morgana had ever looked. Maybe it was the fact that his faceplate had finished detaching a week ago? Krel had complained over text a month or two ago that it was an uncomfortable process that signified the start of adulthood for a royal Akiridion.

“You’re...” Douxie trailed off. He wanted to say beautiful. “A little later than expected.”

“Yeah, sorry, Mass ran late,” Claire said. “So, how’d you want to get started, Teach?”

Six hours of three frustrated prodigies ignoring each other’s personal space as they debated schematics passed. While Akiridion technology and magic were surprisingly compatible, transduction wasn’t quite as compatible with human-and-troll biology as they had hoped. Still, they weren’t quite ready to give up. Well, not forever, anyways. Words were starting to stop making sense for Douxie, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the same was starting to more-or-less happen to the others as well. Douxie stifled a sigh. He didn’t want to be the one who bailed first, but he also got the feeling that if he didn’t say anything the three of them would continue attempting to work for another hour or two of increasingly angry conversation.

“Do you want to break for dinner any time soon?” Douxie asked.

“Please,” Claire said in a desperate, thankful tone, “I’m starved.”

“Wouldn’t it just be a late lunch?” Krel asked.

“Time zone difference,” Douxie said.

“Right, forgot, sorry,” Krel said. A year ago Krel had explained how time zones weren’t really a thing on Akiridion-V. Instead, all clocks were set to the same time as it was in the capitol, but depending on where on the planet you lived you might start your delson at a different time. That being said, the amount of artificial lighting on the planet meant that location didn’t quite matter for when people were supposed to be awake or asleep.

“Can we get pizza from that one place a block away?” Claire asked as she stretched. “You’ll love it, Krel.”

“Archie, Nari, we’re going out, you want to come?” Douxie called across the apartment.

“Bring me back something with anchovies!” Archie said. Claire wrinkled her nose.

“Give me a moment to put on my disguise!” Nari called. Krel activated his transduction. While Arcadians had gotten used to trolls and extraterrestrials, and New Yorkers were mostly unphased by Nari’s antlers, Krel’s four arms and glowing body might draw unwanted attention. Douxie swallowed in order to stifle a gasp.

If Krel had grown into a regal young man in his true form, as a human he had become a roguishly adorable sort of scruffy. Krel had grown his hair out into messy a chest length ponytail. He was an inch or two taller, too.

Nari walked over to them, disguised as an incredibly short human with a beanie that had antlers attached to it. There was probably something to be said about how a nature goddess was more focused on a game on her phone than her surroundings, but she was used to the layout of the apartment. Plus, she could sense the soul of every living being of the planet Earth. She wouldn’t bump into anything until they left the apartment. Then she’d have to be careful.

She bumped into Krel, and looked up, startled.

“Sorry, I didn’t...” Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t sense you. You’re not from Earth, are you?”

“No, is it still that obvious?” Krel fidgeted with the ends of his ponytail.

“Not if you can’t sense souls,” Nari said. She gave Douxie a pointed look. He had no idea why.

Nari and Archie spoke in hushed enough to be somewhat worrying tones as Douxie got ready for work the next day.

“Should we tell him?” Nari asked.

“He’ll figure it out,” Archie said. “Or well, he should. If he doesn’t figure it out within a year, I guess we should tell him, but until then if he’s that oblivious it won’t hurt him.”

Douxie decided to ignore them and whatever they were talking about. His phone buzzed with a text from Krel, and Douxie smiled.

A/N: I decided to leave it ambiguous as to whether or not Jim and Claire are soulmates in this.

#krexie #claire nuñez #hisirdoux casperan #krel tarron #nari #toa archie #toawizards #toawizards spoilers #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia spoilers #archie #drel #krouxie #my writing

62 notes · View notes

chocoholicannanymous · 3 years

Text

...As Stupid Does (Teen Wolf) 18/19

AN: As you might have noticed I've updated the chapter count, making this the penultimate post. It is, however, what I consider the last chapter of ...ASD. If you'd like you could read this and have the story (and the series) end now. The last chapter is going to be what I intended for a fifth and final part of the series, but I've decided instead to post it together with this story, I guess as an epilogue of sorts.

(Oh and yes, I'm aware that this chapter is shorter than many of you would prefer. It should, tbh, have been part of last chapter, but that didn't happen. I'm choosing to focus on writing the last bit of this 'verse instead of trying to pad this chapter.)

Part 17, Part 16, Part 15, Part 14, Part 13, Part 12, Part 11, Part 10, Interlude, Part 9, Part 8d, Part 8c, Part 8b, Part 8a, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5,Part 4,Part 3, Part 2, Part 1,Not Stupid, Stupid Is… and pre-verse ficlet I’m Stupid (Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me)…

As Stupid Does

part 3 of the Stupid ‘verse

Stiles knows that so many of the problems between him and Derek (or really, him and everyone) were caused by him not thinking things through. For someone so obsessed with research he's always had a strange way of jumping in feet first, without looking. He's heard it all his life – not stupid, but just doesn't think. It's the adhd, he supposes.

Regardless of why he is that way it's something he's been actively trying to change with Derek, to think before he leaps and to look at things from every angle. He doesn't always succeed, but he tries.

Well. If he's honest with himself he passed the line between thinking things through and over-thinking them a while back.

He's so, so tired of twisting every idea back and forth until it feels worn.

So he leaps again.

Toronto went well, right? It was a huge step in the right direction, days of being together the way Stiles wants. Surely they can have more of that? So the next time they talk he slides in a casual-only-in-the-term-of-he-wants-it-to-be-but-it-truly-isn't-at-all invitation for Derek to celebrate his birthday with him in LaPush, complete with staying in Stiles' cabin.

The lightning-quick “yes” makes him almost float.

Of course, that doesn't last long. The closer his birthday comes, the more Stiles thinks about what it means that he invited Derek to stay with him, about how they're getting closer and how their relationship is progressing, and he panics. Not about being with Derek, or sharing a life with him, or even having sex again (they're not quite there yet, but Stiles know that they will be). Oh no. He panics about being a selfish little shit.

And he does so hard enough to make a pack full of 'wolves sneeze on the regular, and for his dad to start looking worried.

Dr Bianchi agrees to see him on a Sunday, with practically no warning, and Stiles spends half an hour with words pouring out of him.

“Derek finally has his sister back, and a working pack, and I'm making him leave all of that behind because I'm selfish enough to put my desire to never set foot in Beacon Hills again before Derek's, well, everything. All of that because I'm too greedy to let him free.”

Dr Bianchi looks at him, and then does something Stiles has never seen her do before. She laughs. Long and hard, and if he wasn't busy feeling insulted by it he'd be amazed with how her laughter sounds like bells.

Once her laughter ebbs out Dr Bianchi dabs at her eyes to remove some stray mascara or something before looking him straight in the eyes.

“Are you done being silly?”

And now Stiles is really insulted.

“Oh dear. You have reached that stage. Well, let's do an exercise.

“Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing, slow deep breaths. Find your center. Are you there? Good. Now imagine that Derek hadn't found you. Nothing else about his reality changes, except he doesn't find you. So. He doesn't find you, he doesn't come see you, you don't get back together. He's got his pack in Beacon Hills, his legacy land, his family's graves, his uncle and the baby sister he thought was dead for years has returned to him.

“Can you see that? Yes? Then imagine five years from now. Is Derek still the Alpha? Is he still living in Beacon Hills?”

“Hell no.” And oh.

“Why not?”

“Because Beacon Hills might be his legacy, but it's also a constant reminder that he's responsible for that legacy now. Of all that he lost. He hangs on because of that responsibility, that duty to the land and his family's memory and the pack.”

And now that he sees it, that he's been forced to open his eyes and see it, Stiles can't understand how he could have been so blind to how much Derek really shouldn't have stayed in Beacon Hills after Laura's death.

“And once Cora takes over he's got no reason to torture himself by living in the middle of all that.”

In a way, Stiles thinks, Derek's never really stopped living in the burnout ruins of the Hale house. Physically he might be staying at the loft, but mentally, emotionally... Derek's never fully left.

“He would be able to leave, knowing that the responsibility is Cora's, and that unless she calls him for help he would never have to return there. He'd only need to go back for her, and Scott's dependable enough that he could hold the territory for her if she was to go see Derek somewhere else for a while.”

He sees it now, the future that Derek could have had, and it doesn't look so bad. He prefers the one where Derek's with him, of course, but. Derek could have been happy and free from Beacon Hills even if he hadn't found his way to Stiles.

“Exactly. Now, we don't know if Derek would have found the help he needed without your resources, but I like to think someone would have realized what he needed and stepped up.

“But we agree that chances are Derek would still have given up the Alpha spark, handed over the pack and the land to his sister, and moved away. That means you are not in any way stealing that from him. I understand you panicking, but you can't let your fears dictate your truth.

“You told Derek that you couldn't imagine going back to Beacon Hills before you even started dating. He knows exactly why you don't want to live in Beacon Hills, knew it from the beginning, and could weigh his desire to be with you against his desire to be physically close to his sister. And you won. That was his choice.

“Don't disrespect him by trying to claim that choice doesn't mean anything.

“But Stiles? You have called Beacon Hills a hellmouth more than once in my presence. Now I'm fairly sure I'm not breaking any confidentiality clauses when I say that Derek agrees, because he's done so right here in this room with you present. Right?”

Right. He really feels silly now, because Dr Bianchi is 100 percent right. He has sat here – and at home, and in LaPush – and ranted about how hellmouths aren't supposed to be a thing, and yet, Beacon Hills, with Derek all but going “amen” next to him.

“Your feelings regarding that town are completely valid. Your love for Derek doesn't change that. Wanting both the man you love and safety doesn't make you greedy, or selfish. Especially not since Derek also has some very bad memories from that place. We both know that part of why you want him to leave there is because you believe it's better for him. Even if he decided to leave for somewhere not here, not with you, you would still want that for him. So no, you're not being selfish for wanting both of you out of a place that's brought you so much pain and sorrow.”

That...hurts, hearing. Stiles is fully aware of how unreasonable he's being, but he actually felt better thinking he was selfish and practically forcing Derek to move because of it.

“Then why do I feel like a selfish shit? If I'm doing what's best for him, then why doesn't it feel like that?”

Dr Bianchi gives him a small smile.

“Because you want to do the right thing, but you're worried you'll make the wrong choice again. You're scared, and you're vulnerable, and you hate both. Just remember that there's a strength in allowing yourself to feel that way – as long as you don't allow it to rule you.”

Easier said than done, and they both know it, but then and there Stiles recommits to not letting his fears rule him.

O--o---o--O

Stiles' birthday is celebrated without much fanfare. He and his dad eat lunch with the Calls. Derek arrives shortly before dinner, which the pack eats at Sam and Emily's and where the biggest difference between today and any other day is that there's a huge cake. Afterwards they light a bonfire at the beach and just spend time together.

When he opens the door to his future home and lets Derek inside it feels heavy and symbolic and maybe like a true glimpse of the future, and Stiles shivers a little. Derek of course misinterprets him.

“Do you regret offering me to stay here?”

“Of course not! It's just, you know, big.”

His heart's as steady as it's capable of being and Derek nods. If his hands shake a little as he climbs up to the loft, well, he's not going to mention it. Once he's up he turns and calls out softly to Derek.

“Coming?”

Derek's hesitant as he climbs up, uncharacteristically slow, and he's still hesitating as he comes to a stand next to the bed. The single bed.

Yes, it's a queen, but. They haven't shared a bed since before Stiles left Beacon Hills. This is a big step.

“I could shift.”

Stiles doesn't know if Derek means shift and sleep on the floor, or shift and sleep at the foot of the bed, but it doesn't matter. That's not the plan. Sure, he's not averse to a furry bed-companion, especially not on cold nights, but his hormones are fully awake and he's got plans, you know? Bestiality really isn't something he's looking to try, not even considering werewolves – or should that be especially considering werewolves? Never mind, just, nope.

“I'm not saying no to having you curled up and warming my feet on a cold night, but this night? I was hoping for this body.”

He smiles, a little wicked, and pulls his shirt off. His pants follow them to the floor, and then he stretches out across the bed.

“I wouldn't mind you warming me up though.”

It pleases him to see Derek pull his own henley and jeans off without hesitation, and it really pleases him to have Derek join him in bed. Soon every bit of lingering chill has been chased away by werewolf warmth, along with every last bit of fear.

It's been years since he touched Derek like this, but his hands remember as they wander while they kiss. Derek however is a bit more restrained, and Stiles isn't onboard with that. He's made his mind up and he wants this. Derek wanting to be careful with him is nice, yes, but it's hard to decide if it's more sweet or annoying.

(His dick is screaming annoying.)

He's just going to have to take the matter cough into his own hands.

Derek stills.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure. I've had months to be sure. I want this. I want you.” He twists his hand a little, then pauses. Right.

“But if you're not ready, then I'll wait. I don't want this unless we both do.”

Consent is always going to be a sore point for both of them, and while Stiles would prefer a different kind of pillow talk he can deal. He hasn't spent all this time and effort getting over how they were in Beacon Hills just to make the same mistake again, only the other way around.

“I do.”

Stiles loses his breath, staring into Derek's eyes, sucker-punched by those words. Then he practically throws himself at his wolf, hands and mouth and desire.

It's everything good from before, yet somehow nothing like it used to be.

They fall asleep tangled up, sweaty and sated.

Stiles wakes up, afraid that he's going to regret what happened, or that Derek will regret it, or even that Derek will be gone – which is stupid, since he can feel Derek with him, a line of warmth half covering him, but fear is never rational. And then he takes the time to center himself, to feel, and he knows.

This is how he wants to wake up for the rest of his life. Warm, safe, happy.

Things will be hard. He's got another three years left of college. Derek's got another year, at least, of being the Alpha of Beacon Hills. They're not going to have enough time together and there's always going to be the risk of some spectacular shitshow going down. And that's without considering their relationship.

They're going to be messy, and imperfect, and sometimes stupid. They're going to fight, and disagree, and wonder if they made the right choices. They're going to storm out and slam the doors and go to bed furious. But they're also going to be happy and in love and together, and they're going to fight to stay that way.

And that, Stiles thinks, is anything but stupid.

He turns around and burrows into the arms of his 'wolf, at peace.

#chocoholic fics #teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #...asd #stupid 'verse #twilight crossover #in 2021 we finish our WIPs

5 notes · View notes

ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

Text

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 32: Martin

They’re right. Jon Prime can’t see the colors of fear like Tim can. It’s something between a shock and a relief to all of them, but especially to Jon. Less pleasing is the news that, apparently, the one in the Institute who can see marks is Jonah, although Jon Prime admits he doesn’t know how he sees them, or even if he actually sees them or just Knows they’re there.

Tim gets very dramatic about this, but Martin suspects it really does bother him more than a little.

They won’t let Tim push himself to experiment, but he does a couple of carefully controlled and supervised peeks at objects and statements. Martin and Martin Prime are both extremely vocal and vehement in their opposition to him going up to Artifact Storage to have a look around, and even Sasha agrees it would be a really terrible idea. Jon makes it unanimous by declaring that Tim has met his quota of bad decisions for the year and begun borrowing against the next. Tim gives in gracefully enough.

He cheers up some when the first Sunday in Advent passes—not that any of them are churchgoers, but it’s a convenient way to mark the start of the season—and they’re able to decorate their house for Christmas. Martin hasn’t celebrated, really, since his grandfather died, and Jon even longer ago than that, but it’s hard not to join in with Tim’s enthusiasm. Jon finds a sprig of mistletoe and hangs it over the door; Sasha teases him about it, then evidently regrets it when it touches off a mini-lecture about its history as a protective plant to ward off witches and demons.

Martin finds himself staring at it every time they pass through the front door. It’s just a silly superstition, of course, but if he thought it would work, he’d deck out every door and window in the place. From the fact that he comes back from lunch one day and sees Tim with a search page called up for protective plants and charms, he suspects he’s not alone in that.

As the calendar goes over into December, they’re all beginning to relax somewhat. Jon is less neurotic; Sasha is less secretive and a bit more open about what she’s doing (emphasis on a bit). Martin is able to keep himself from overcompensating for his shortcomings (or, as Jon insists on referring to them, perceived shortcomings), and Tim hasn’t done anything catastrophically stupid in three weeks. Even the Primes seem more relaxed. Jon Prime is getting progressively stronger; he still says he has trouble thinking down in the tunnels, but he’s able to move around without needing to sleep for two days afterward. Martin Prime seems less worried about him, seems being the operative term. Martin knows it can’t last, but he hopes they’ll at least get through the new year before they have to start really worrying about fears and monsters and cops and bosses.

He should really know better by now.

Martin assumes the footsteps on the stairs belong to Tim or Sasha. He cut his lunch a bit short because he was expecting a callback regarding a statement follow-up, which he’s just ended, and he assumes it took longer than he anticipated. He looks up, ready to pass on the information, but the words dry up in his throat at the sight of the person striding towards him. Solid, with well-defined muscles and a blonde crew cut, the woman looks a good deal like the description of the assassin in the Jeffrey Archer book he did his last school report on, but despite being in plainclothes, she screams cop. This, then, must be Detective Alice “Daisy” Tonner, and Martin has no idea why she’s here.

Her eyes narrow when she spots Martin, and he shrinks back instinctively from the intensity in her eyes before he gets a hold on himself. He hasn’t, he reminds himself, done anything wrong. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his voice only squeaking a little.

“You’re Martin Blackwood?” she demands.

“Y-yes?”

“The Martin Blackwood?”

If this were any other situation, Martin might respond with a paraphrase of that line from one of the Hitchhiker’s Guide books, he can’t remember if it’s the second or third off the top of his head: No, just a Martin Blackwood, don’t you know I come in six packs? That, however, would be tantamount to suicide. Then he remembers that the Primes got pulled over. “I’m the Martin Blackwood that works in the Institute, yes. Can I help you?”

Daisy—it’s impossible to think of her as anything else—eyeballs him, then grunts. “Detective Daisy Tonner. I need to talk to the Head Archivist.”

“Yep. Of course. Right this way.” Martin jumps to his feet, nearly toppling his chair over backwards, and starts towards Jon’s office. “Uh, can I get you a…cup of tea or…?”

“I’m fine,” Daisy growls.

The small, furry mammal of Martin’s inner being flattens its ears and crouches in the grass, desperately hoping to avoid being seen, and Martin swallows hard. “R-right. Um. This way.”

He leads Daisy over to Jon’s office door and opens it cautiously. He’s pretty sure Jon isn’t recording, at least not on the tape recorder, but he’s usually careful anyway, especially since none of them knock anymore; Jon’s asked them to stop and they’ve decided, collectively, not to ask questions. Yet.

Jon looks up from the spread of papers on his desk and smiles, but it fades quickly. Martin can only imagine what his face must look like. “Martin. Is everything all right?”

“There’s a Detective Tonner here to see you,” Martin answers.

He is in complete agreement with whatever emotion Jon’s face is attempting to convey as he shuts the folder and shoves the papers aside. “Ah…send her in.”

“Okay. I’m, um, there’s something I need to run down,” Martin says. “U-unless you need me to stick around.”

Jon seems to understand. Of course he does. “No, I should be all right.” He doesn’t sound completely sure. “Make certain your phone is on you, though.”

Martin doesn’t bother pointing out that the tunnels don’t get service. “Right.” He steps out and nods to Daisy. “You can go in.”

Daisy doesn’t thank him, just pushes past him and shuts the door. Martin stands still for a moment, trying to shake the creeping feeling of dread, then turns and heads for the trapdoor leading to the tunnels.

Something I need to run down. Jon told Martin, after Melanie’s visit, that he liked that as a code phrase for ducking into the tunnels, so they’ve all been using it lately. Usually it’s to ask the Primes a question or clarify something, sometimes just to check up on them and see if they need anything. Jon and Sasha are taking it in turns to map out the tunnels, too—they’ve almost finished the first level. Maybe. Tim and Martin, on the other hand, occasionally go down just to get some relief from the constant pressure of the Eye.

It’s interesting, Martin thinks as he clicks on his torch and descends the steps, how differently they react to the tunnels, or more specifically to the effect of the tunnels on them. Tim embraces it, and Martin suspects he would spend all his time down there if he thought he could get away with it, but he usually goes down at least once a day, if only for a few minutes. Sasha finds it kind of exciting, not being able to just ferret out the tunnel’s secrets easily, but the problem is that she’s addicted to the mystery of it. Jon is in a weird place; on the one hand, he also wants to know everything about the tunnels that he can, but on the other, he’s already starting to get to a point where if he stays down for too long, he winds up drained and shaky. Both he and Sasha are under strict injunctions not to spend more than an hour a day in the tunnels, and privately, Martin thinks that might be too long for both of them.

And Martin? He’s in a weird place, too. He does like the comfort of not being constantly watched, and of knowing that he can ask people how they’re feeling and know he won’t accidentally compel them to answer, and if he’s being honest, it’s one of the two places in the world he feels completely safe and relaxed (his mind skips away from actually acknowledging what the other place is). At the same time, though, he feels…guilty. Like he’s abandoning someone who’s depending on him.

With a sigh, he leans against the wall of the tunnel for just a moment, then straightens up and heads down to the Primes’ “room”. The door is open, and Martin can just faintly hear Jon Prime’s voice. It’s too low to make out the words, but when he cautiously pokes his head around the doorframe, he sees the Primes sitting up against the wall of the room, their battery-operated camping lantern lit and casting a soft golden glow over the pair of them. Martin Prime’s head rests on Jon Prime’s lap, and Jon Prime absently tangles the fingers of one hand through his curls. In his other hand he holds a book, and he’s reading aloud in a low, soothing voice. Martin almost wants to duck back out again, sit on the floor outside the room, and just listen for a little while.

But Jon Prime glances up as he turns a page, sees him, and makes a small noise of surprise. “Martin. I didn’t see you there. Is everything all right?”

“M-maybe?” Martin feels his cheeks go hot. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I—”

“It’s fine,” Jon Prime assures him. He keeps his voice low, and Martin wonders if Martin Prime is asleep. “Come on in. What time is it?”

Martin points his torch at his wristwatch, just to be sure. “Almost one in the afternoon. I just—it’s maybe not an emergency. I can come back—”

“Sit.” Jon Prime sets the book aside and glances down at Martin Prime. “How are you, love?”

“I’m fine. It’s fading fast,” Martin Prime replies. He starts to sit up, but Jon Prime stops him with a hand to the chest. “Jon…”

“Relax. Rest. You don’t need to—you’re fine.” Jon Prime looks up at Martin. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, ‘course not.” Martin comes into the room and automatically makes sure he doesn’t shine the torch in Martin Prime’s eyes. “I just…I just wanted to let you know, I guess. Daisy just turned up.”

Jon Prime sucks in a deep breath. “Oh, God.”

“She’s just here to deliver the next tape, though, right?” Martin asks. Anxiety suddenly grips him. He shouldn’t have left the Archives, no matter what Jon said. “She won’t hurt him, will she?”

“N-no.” Jon Prime doesn’t sound too sure. “She didn’t hurt me this time around…not physically. But…in theory, yes, she’s just dropping off the next tape. I accidentally compelled a statement out of her—I hadn’t yet learned I could do that—and made her rather angry, but…well, let’s hope it won’t come to that.” He takes a deep breath. “Then again, she did encounter us. Who knows what she’s thinking.”

“Christ, I should’ve stayed up there. I-if Jon’s going to—God, he’s going to be exhausted after, and none of us are there to cut the statement.” Martin sucks in a breath. “And he’s alone, if she does anything—I’ve got to get back up there.”

“Go easy,” Martin Prime cautions him. “And don’t break the door to his office down. She might…you won’t be the one she takes it out on.”

Martin takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Um, d-do you two need anything?”

“Some paracetamol, maybe?” Jon Prime asks. “We’re getting low.”

Martin winces and glances at Martin Prime. “Migraines?”

“Mm-hmm. Hadn’t had one in a while. I kind of thought I outgrew them, but…” Martin Prime gestures vaguely at his head. “Been bad for the last week or so.”

“I’ll be back later with some aspirin,” Martin promises. “Works better for migraines. M-maybe some of that ginger tea, too? We’ve got a ton of it.”

“Thank you,” Martin Prime says with a soft smile. “Be careful.”

Martin hums in agreement, then heads back to the stairs.

By his watch, it’s been no more than five, ten minutes since he came down into the tunnels—not nearly enough time for Jon to take Daisy’s statement, and Tim and Sasha probably won’t even be back yet. He climbs the stairs, head bowed in thought, pushes the trapdoor open, and steps out into the Archives.

And flinches.

Elias—Jonah—stands next to Martin’s desk, hands clasped in front of him, patiently waiting. His piercing grey eyes are fixed on Martin as he stands, half-in and half-out of the tunnel.

“Martin,” he says calmly. “I wondered where everyone was. Surely you don’t all go to lunch at the same time—have you been exploring the tunnels on Institute time?”

Martin panics slightly. He swallows hard, and he knows his knees are shaking as he climbs out and lets the trapdoor close behind him. “I-I came back from lunch a bit early to take a phone call. Jon told me t-to go ahead and take the rest of it once the call was done.”

“In the tunnels?”

Martin swallows hard. He’s usually fairly good at coming up with a plausible lie to cover something he shouldn’t do, or at least of distracting people from the fact that he needs to lie. But somehow, he doesn’t think he’ll manage it. Not completely.

“I’ve—I’ve been putting some things together,” he says. He manages to take a step closer, then another, until he’s by his desk and not far from Elias. Definitely closer than he wants to be, but it seems important that he do it like this. “Making connections.”

“Have you now,” Elias says blandly.

Martin takes a deep breath. He’s got to give Elias just enough of the truth to make it plausible, but not let on how much he knows, and most importantly, he can’t let Elias know the others know, too. “I’ve been thinking about the statements. One in particular. That woman who ran into Gerard Keay and the—the burn victim. There’s something he said to her, something I can’t stop thinking about—‘For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.’ I wondered what that meant, and—and then I started thinking. You know, I-I feel like—we all feel like—we’re being watched a lot down here, a-and I know it’s not CCTV or anything because there aren’t any cameras down here, but that’s what it feels like—like someone’s peering over our shoulders all the time. And that statement had a lot of eyes in it, you know? There was even an eye pressed up against the camera for just a minute on the footage we looked at.” He swallows hard. “When I go down in the tunnels—I don’t feel that. I can think down there, because I don’t feel like someone’s looking at my thoughts a-and judging them. It’s not just the woman’s imagination, o-or a crazy delusion. There is something that watches us. It might even be called the Beholding. A-at least, that’s what I’ve been calling it. And it’s here. I think it’s watching the Institute. All the time.”

There’s a brief silence, during which Martin swears he can almost hear the Eye blinking. It’s fond of you, Martin Prime said, way back in the beginning of all this, and Martin desperately hopes that’s true. Or at least that it’s fond enough of him to keep Elias from knowing how much he’s withholding. Then, suddenly, he realizes that’s going about it the wrong way and starts instead hoping that the Eye is curious enough about how this interaction will play out to keep Elias from knowing how aware the Archives team is.

“That’s very clever of you, Martin,” Elias says after what’s probably no more than a second, but feels like an eternity. “How long have you known all this?”

Not thought you’ve known, Martin notes. Known. Interesting. And frightening. “A while. At least since the Jane Prentiss attack. I-I was alone a lot, I had time to think, so…I did.”

Elias hums slightly. “I see. And what are you going to do about it, exactly?”

“Wh-what? I mean…” Martin flounders slightly and casts an involuntary glance in the direction of Jon’s firmly shut office door. “I-it’s not like I can—what do you mean?”

“I mean, Martin, do you intend to keep this knowledge to yourself?” Elias lifts an eyebrow. “Or do you plan to tell Jon?”

Sadly, there’s no right answer to this question. Martin tries to summon up his train of thought from back when Martin Prime first started telling him about all this. What would he have done if the Primes hadn’t been there to tell Jon? “I—I have to. He gets upset when we keep things from him, a-and he’s paranoid enough as it is, so if he thinks I’m keeping secrets…I promised I wouldn’t anymore. W-we all did.”

“Of course.” Elias’ voice drips with soothing insincerity and makes Martin’s skin crawl. “Will he believe you, though?”

“I’ve got—I can show him the connections I made,” Martin says. “He can be a bit skeptical sometimes, but he’s not stupid. A-and we’ve all seen enough, done enough, between Jane Prentiss and the couple of things we’ve been able to verify and—I at least have to try.” He swallows. “I don’t think he’ll be skeptical about this.”

“No,” Elias agrees, which surprises Martin. “I don’t suppose he will. And I’m sure your evidence is very convincing. But what will you do if he doesn’t believe you?”

Martin licks his lips and tries to shrug. “Protect him, I guess. As best as I can. If I’m right, he’ll find out the truth eventually on his own.”

“Oh, you are.” Elias’ frank admission makes the breath catch in Martin’s throat. He expected Elias to prevaricate, or attempt to convince him he was imagining things, but…no, no, this is definitely more frightening. “You’re absolutely right, Martin. And I’m sure, as smart as you are, that you’ve gone over a number of other statements beyond Ms.—Saraki’s, was it?—and found even more connections to support your theory, so you know this goes well beyond the Institute.”

“I-I…yes?” The more Elias agrees with him, or seems to praise him, the more frightened Martin gets. Which is probably the point.

“Mm. I wonder, though, if you really understand the implications of what you’ve discovered. There is so much more to this than you realize, Martin, and I wonder if you realize how harmful telling Jon would be.”

“Why? Because he’ll ask the wrong questions?” Martin asks before he thinks about it. “If Jon—he won’t quit or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not now. He’ll, he’ll look into things, start investigating. If I don’t have answers for him, he’ll try to find them on his own—that’s not a bad thing. What do you think will happen if I do?”

Elias jerks his head back slightly a split second before Martin tastes the static on his tongue and realizes what just happened. He tries not to let it show on his face. He’s fairly certain he isn’t supposed to know about that, and there’s no reason anyone would suspect that the Beholding gave them spooky knowing powers. Certainly he’s not supposed to have them. Hopefully his reaction doesn’t show on his face.

It doesn’t seem to. Elias gathers himself quickly. “You’re getting emotional, Martin. Just calm down.”

Martin isn’t sure if he’s relieved or alarmed that Elias seems able to resist his compelling. Then again, he’s not all that powerful. “I’m not emotional! I-I’m just—I was asking.”

“Of course Jon will try to find answers. But please understand that some of those answers…may not be in his best interest. Or yours, for that matter.” Elias leans slightly forward and meets Martin’s eyes. “Allow me to give you an example.”

Martin can’t stop the frightened gasp that rips itself from his throat as Jonah’s—there’s no denying in this instant that they belong to Jonah Magnus—eyes bore into Martin’s. The world seems to go black and white with a green wash and fill with static, and the thoughts fill his mind, thoughts and sights and memories not his own—

Her name on his lips is almost like a curse, and she lets one of her own fall as she sets aside the can and looks into those eyes, and she needs no prompting from the Eye to know what he has come to do. Even as they talk, as they both try to taunt each other and figure out who has the upper hand, she reaches into her pocket and fishes out the lighter, Gerard’s lighter—she never should have left the boy behind, but maybe it’s better this way—flicks it on. One little spark, and it will all end for him. But he reaches into his own pocket, pulls out a dark and ominous object, primes it, aims it at her. It comes to this, to which of them can ignite faster. She dares him to do it. He fires. She feels the impact, gasps and collapses, and for a moment, she wishes she had made other choices, she wishes—but no. She is dying, but in all she has done, she has kept safe that which she swore to keep safe. Still. She thought it would hurt more.

—and the color rushes back to the Archives, all the grey sucking into Jonah’s eyes as he blinks and straightens back up, adjusting his suit jacket with an imperious tug. Martin is pressed back against his desk, clutching it behind him with both hands and barely keeping from crumpling to the floor. His face is wet and his breath coming in short pants and gasps, and he realizes he’s sobbing, not sure if it’s with sorrow or fear. Maybe it’s both.

“Knowledge can be dangerous, Martin,” Elias says, as calmly as if he hasn’t just made Martin experience the death of a fiery old woman from inside her own head, at the hands of the man in front of him. “Do keep that in mind.” He turns to walk away, then pauses and glances over his shoulder. “Oh—and I would be cautious who I shared that knowledge with, if I were you. Jon isn’t the only one who would require proof, and I rather think Detective Tonner might have cause to suspect you had…ulterior motives in making such a wild and bold claim without evidence to back it up.” With that, he strides out of the Archives.

He passes Sasha coming in on his way out, or at least Martin’s pretty sure it’s Sasha; all he can see right now is a blur as he tries without success to get his sobbing under control. It’s definitely Sasha’s voice that speaks next, sounding worried. “Martin?”

“I—I’ll be right back,” Martin manages to choke out. He turns and bolts blindly from the Archives in the direction of the washroom. Once there, he locks himself in and slides down to the floor, buries his face in his arms, and cries.

It’s one thing to know Elias Bouchard murdered Gertrude Robinson. It’s another thing to experience it, to feel her dying moments imprint on him—what she felt in the moments leading up to it. And now he knows what it feels like to be shot, wonders if it felt like that for Martin Prime. God, he hopes he never has to deal with that again.

He takes a deep, shaking breath as the sobbing finally subsides and wipes at his face, then gets up to wash the tears and snot off. Once he’s done, he studies himself in the bathroom mirror. His eyes are reddened, his skin bears the too-shiny look of being freshly scrubbed, but it’s the best he can do. Hopefully it’ll be enough. He takes a deep breath and heads back into the Archives.

He gets there just as the door to the main corridor slams, making him jump. From the fact that Jon is frozen halfway across the Archives and Tim is over by their desks with Sasha, Martin guesses it’s Daisy leaving. Jon sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then turns and freezes. “Martin! Are you all right?”

Tim turns, his face creased in concern, and takes a step towards him with his arms already stretching out, but Martin shakes his head quickly. “Don’t—not right now. Please.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want a hug. He does, desperately. After what he’s been through, he can admit what he shied away from when he first went down to the tunnels—that the safest place in the world is in Tim and Jon’s arms. But he also knows that if he gives in and lets either of them touch him right now, he’ll fall apart. He’s just managed to get himself back together, and they still have half a day to get through, somehow.

Sasha holds out a mug—his mug, or at least the one he usually uses, the cobalt blue one with the raised pattern that looks like a cable-knit sweater, which happens to match the one he’s wearing today—brimming with tea. Martin accepts it with quiet thanks, then manages to sit down before he falls over. Tim pulls out his chair, turns it around, and straddles it, resting his chin on the back; Sasha sits down at her own desk, but doesn’t fire up her laptop yet. Jon hovers nearby, his face creased with anxiety and exhaustion in equal parts. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Martin lies. He’s never felt less fine in his life, but he’s also not sure Elias isn’t listening; even if he’s not lurking right outside the Archives, he could be watching Martin, waiting to see how he’s going to bring up his “theories”. “I was—exploring the tunnels. While you were talking to Detective Tonner. Sorry for sneaking around on you.”

Jon looks confused for a split second, then suddenly seems to understand. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t been down there myself. We all have. In fact, I think we’d best just leave the trapdoor unlocked in the future. I’d like to have a complete map of it anyway. But please, all three of you—don’t go down alone. Certainly not without telling anyone. Take a companion if you feel the need to explore.” He slides off Martin’s desk. “Tell you what. Why don’t we all go down there right now? There’s nothing going on at the moment. We’ll take an hour and look around a bit. Together.”

Sasha grabs a piece of paper, writes BACK IN 60 MINUTES on it, folds it into a tent, and leaves it up on their desks, then gives Jon a charming smile. “Just in case Elias comes down to visit.”

“Right. Bring your tea, Martin, come on.” Jon strides briskly over to the trapdoor, which Martin didn’t lock when he came out.

Tea. Martin opens his desk drawer and pulls out the bottle of aspirin he keeps there, slips it into his pocket, and grabs the box of ginger tea off their station before following the others down into the tunnels. Tim waits for him at the foot of the stairs, makes like he’s going to put his hand on Martin’s back, then evidently remembers his earlier request and instead takes the box of tea out of his hands. Martin nods gratefully.

The door to the Primes’ room is still open. Jon pokes his head in the door. “Sorry to bother you, but I didn’t want to wait until after hours.”

“Two visits in a single day. I’m honored,” Jon Prime says dryly. He’s smirking a little, but his expression falls when he sees Martin come in the room. “I am now concerned.”

Tim hands over the box of ginger tea. “That makes…four of us. Five if Martin Prime there wants to join in the concern.”

“Sure. I love worrying,” Martin Prime says, his head still resting in Jon Prime’s lap. “I’m guessing it’s not your Jon we’re worrying about? Unless he’s more upset by Daisy’s statement than you were.”

“No, it’s Martin,” Sasha replies. “I came back from lunch just as Elias was leaving and Martin was—” She catches herself.

“Having a bit of a breakdown,” Martin replies softly.

“Oh, God. Already?” Martin Prime sits up abruptly, then winces, evidently regretting it.

“Have a seat. All of you,” Jon Prime instructs. He studies Martin in obvious concern. “What did he say to you?”

Martin pulls the aspirin out of his pocket and shakes it once before handing it to Jon Prime. “It’s…I don’t know where to start. He was waiting for me when I got out of the tunnels.”

Haltingly, clutching his tea in both hands and staring into its depths, he tells the others the whole story—Elias’ questions, his own half-truths. Sasha’s eyes brighten when he mentions accidentally attempting to compel Elias, and she turns to Jon Prime, whose lips are set in a thin line. He shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking, Sasha, but it won’t work. He’s strong enough to resist you. I tried, once, with all the force I have…he answered me, but only because he wanted to.”

“So it’s like Zone of Truth? He can choose to fail the saving throw automatically?” Tim frowns. “That’s unfair.”

“Well, he’s had two hundred years to practice, Tim.” Jon Prime turns back to Martin, and his expression is grim. “I don’t imagine he was pleased with that. What did he say about that?”

“He didn’t mention it,” Martin replies. “I—I think I managed to not let on that I realized I’d done it? He just told me to calm down. Th-then he said…he said there were some answers that may not be in our best interest, and…” He takes a deep breath. “He showed me Gertrude’s death.”

“He what?” both Jons shout in unison.

Tim lets out a string of Italian hot enough to blister paint and starts to stand. Sasha grabs his pant leg and tugs him back down, but even she looks pale in the lantern light. “Showed you. How? Put the pictures in your head?”

“Not pictures. More than video, too. It was like…like VR, o-or—I don’t know how to explain it.” Martin’s voice shakes, and he has to set the tea mug down before he breaks it. “I-it was like I was Gertrude Robinson. I-I could, I could feel what she was feeling, I had her thoughts, a-and I was listening to her talking with Elias—with Jonah—a-and then he…she had a lighter, I think she was going to burn the Archives down, and he had a gun, and she was telling him to shoot her or leave her alone, so he did.”

Jon Prime closes his eyes tightly. “‘Thought it would hurt more,’” he murmurs.

Martin Prime rubs his chest absently. “She must have a higher pain tolerance than I do.”

“It wasn’t physical pain she was talking about,” Martin says. Something clicks into place and he knows it with a certainty he’s felt about precious little else in his life. “It was the emotional pain, the knowledge that she was dying, that her plan failed. That the Fears were still out there and Jonah’s plan could still succeed.” A stabbing headache, not quite a migraine but similar in intensity, hits him directly between the eyes, and he closes his eyes, rubbing at the spot.

“Christ, Martin,” Tim breathes. “Will you take that damn hug now?”

“Y-yeah.”Martin manages a smile as he opens his eyes again and Tim’s arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him close. Jon reaches over and grips his hand hard; Sasha rests a hand on his other arm.

“God.” Jon Prime looks shaken. He clutches Martin Prime’s hand like a lifeline. “I-I always just assumed…”

Martin shakes his head slightly. “From what I could feel, she was—there were some regrets, but I don’t think actually dying upset her all that much, and I think that kind of surprised her.” He sighs. “Not that I was doing all that great. A-and then it all stopped, and I just…I’m pretty sure I was crying before all that, but I hadn’t noticed. Elias told me that ‘knowledge can be dangerous’, and then said I should be careful about who I shared the knowledge he’d just given me with.”

Tim tenses, but Martin Prime just sighs. “In other words, he thought your first instinct would be to tell Daisy he killed Gertrude. Only there’s no proof for that, so she would have assumed you were covering up for Jon.”

“She said they know I didn’t do it,” Jon murmurs. “They got the CCTV footage cleaned up…”

“Then she’d have blamed me,” Martin says softly. “Not that I would have told her anyway. I’m not stupid. But—”

“But he knew that,” Sasha completes. “I bet he was trying to convince you to tell her. Put the idea in your head. Maybe he thought you’d do it to prove him wrong…”

“And then either you or Jon would get arrested,” Tim says harshly. “Or worse.”

“Probably worse,” Martin Prime agrees. “He—” He suddenly freezes, his spine stiffening. “Oh.”

“Oh? What ‘oh’? I don’t like that ‘oh.’” Tension creeps into Tim’s voice.

“Tim, have you—looked at anyone on the team?”

“L—wh—no,” Tim sputters. “You mean with my—? No! I promised I wouldn’t—a-and that’s, that’s invasive, I don’t—why would I do that?”

“Because I’m wondering how many marks you all have. Separately and individually.” Martin Prime takes a deep breath. “If Jonah knows your Martin is developing powers…”

“No,” Jon Prime breathes. “No, he—he wouldn’t, it won’t—it wouldn’t work that way.” He pauses. “Would it?”

“If they’re all reading statements? Why wouldn’t it?”

Martin feels the other three draw closer to him, all of them managing to huddle in a group together. It’s Jon who finally asks, his voice full of trepidation, “Why wouldn’t what work?”

Dread runs down Martin’s spine as Martin Prime seems to meet each of their eyes, despite his blindness. “If you all have roughly the same number of marks, and you’re all developing powers from the Eye…Jonah might be considering whether or not he has to actually use your Jon for his ritual. Or if he could use one of you instead.”

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #emotional cruelty cw #mind manipulation cw #canon-typical Elias Bouchard asshattery

7 notes · View notes

miraculousandbts · 3 years

Text

RM | Baby Sister

Summary: Your brother visits you after a long time, and you’re the happiest person on Earth.

Pairing: Namjoon is y/n’s brother.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: y/n gets a little too overwhelmed and starts happy crying a little. Adorable Joon because that should be a warning.

You opened your eyes and let out an annoyed sigh. Your phone had been ringing for the past 10 minutes, and it was kept under your pillow, which meant you felt it vibrate near your head. You begrudgingly placed your hand under your pillow and searched for the object, taking it out when you touched it. You opened it and saw 5 missed calls from your brother.

"Joon?!" You sat up with a start, all thoughts of sleep long forgotten. Your brother finally had enough time to call you. Not once, but five times. You clutched the phone to your chest and smiled at nothing in particular. Then your phone rang again, almost giving you a heart attack. It was him again, you saw. Before you could pick up, you did a mini happy dance, which was basically just wiggling sitting in your bed looking like a homeless hobo with your bed hair.

You swiped the accept button and nearly screamed, remembering in the last minute that you just might blow your brothers' ear drums if you actually did scream. "Hey, baby sister." He greeted. "Joon!!!" You replied back, a little too enthusiastically. "Woah! Are you on a sugar rush this early in the morning?" He chuckled. "Nah, I just missed you a little too much."

He sighed. "I'm sorry, love. All this idol business is...you know." You did know. Being an Idol was not easy, especially if you were as famous as them. He wasn't only a part of the team, he was also the leader and the translator. Plus, handling six hyperactive kids was not an easy task. He had apologised countless times, giving the same reason again and again. You knew, at this point, he was getting fed up of himself. "It's okay, Joonie. I get it. And I'm proud of you, so don't apologise, just tell me when we'll be seeing each other again." You went from serious to yourself in a second without missing a beat.

"About that," he sounded full of life again, "we have to shoot a Run episode in a water park, and I may have suggested One Mount." You let out an excited squeal. "And the staff may have agreed." Hearing this, you yelled loudly. (Y'all will understand what I'm talking about if you've seen episode 13 of Run BTS! If you haven't, I'll tell you. One mount is a water park (I think) in Ilsan, Namjoon's hometown. They shot episode 13 there, so that's the excuse I'm using, cuz I'm a person who has a lot of ideas but they are completely unrelated to the topic. Thank you.)

You were meeting your brother in person after an year. An year! You both were very close before he became a trainee and suddenly didn't have any time for you because he was all the way in Seoul. You always knew about his dream about being a rapper though, so you always supported him in whatever decisions he made. Granted, you freaked out a little when he suddenly changed his hair style to an afro, of all things, but still, you were his sister, and you had to support your brother.

You were so happy, you felt like crying. You let out a sob and a hiccup involuntarily, and brought your free hand to cover your mouth. "Wait, shit, are you crying, love?" He sounded worried. "Aw, baby, don't cry." You might hate it when other people babied you and you might go around getting into fights with boys, but with your brother, you did a complete 180 and became his baby sister.

You sobbed again. "I-I'm fine. J-Just, we'll b-be seeing each o-other after such a-a long t-time..." you trailed off. "I know, love." You could practically imagine him sitting in his studio, smiling gently. "I love you, but I've gotta go right now. I still have some packing to do!" He said in a cheery voice. "I love you too." You simply replied while he hung up.

You wiped your tears, internally thankful you hadn't cried enough for your nose to get runny. You already looked like you had been dragged through a barbed wire fence backward with your hair open, the last thing you needed was a runny nose. Finally deciding to start your day, you get out of bed and head to the bathroom. You thanked the Gods it was a Sunday today, or you would have been running around the house wearing mismatched socks and uncombed hair looking for your car keys despite the fact that they're always kept at the same place, knowing you were late for college.

You randomly let out a giggle and hugged yourself tightly while brushing your teeth. You were meeting your brother again, and you couldn't be happier.

*****

Namjoon was excitedly packing a duffel bag with a few pair of clothes and other necessities, while a big grin was plastered on his face.

Taehyung and Jungkook entered the room while talking something about gaming. Namjoon wasn't even mad that they had not started packing yet, even though he knew how long Jungkook takes just to pack a duffel bag. "Uh, Namjoon hyung?" He looked at Taehyung, who was looking at him weirdly. "Stop smiling like that, it's creepy." Namjoon only shrugged and went back to packing.

"What are you so happy about anyway? I mean, I know we're going to Ilsan, but I did not see Taehyungie hyung, or Yoongi hyung grinning like idiots when we went to Daegu." Jungkook plopped down on the bed and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not excited because of that. I'm going to see y/n after an year." He dropped the shirt in his hand and sat down beside Jungkook, his expression changing to a gentle one.

Both the younger boys looked at each other and smiled. Taehyung was thinking about his younger siblings, while Jungkook smiled at the thought of his elder brother. All the members had siblings, either elder or younger, but they had also found family in each other.

"We'll leave you alone, because we know we won't be able to stop you from smiling, and it really is creepy." Taehyung took Jungkook's hand and pulled him outside. Namjoon sighed. He picked up his discarded shirt and put it in the bag, zipping it up. One more day, and he'll be hugging and kissing you like before.

*****

It was early in the evening. You were anxiously waiting for your brother at the airport.

He said he'd be there by now. You looked around, clutching your phone tightly. You noticed you had been doing that a lot recently. That's when it happened. You saw him. You smiled so big, you were afraid that your jaw would fall off. You let out a small giggle, and ran towards him. Not too fast, you did not want people to think you needed a mental asylum.

That's when he spotted you, and smiled a really big smile. When you neared, he opened his arms and you jumped on him, wrapping your arms around his neck, squeezing tightly. You missed him, so so much. "I feel like crying but I can't stop smiling. My cheeks hurt." You muttered, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck. You heard him chuckle, and then he pulled back.

"Still so pretty." He pressed a light kiss on your forehead. You heard someone clearing their throat behind him, and that's when you remembered that he wasn't alone. Being his sister, you had met the other guys a couple of times, which was enough for you to get comfortable around them. You were that kind of person; it took you a very short time to make friends and remove the awkwardness people tend to have when meeting someone for the first time.

You looked back and gave them a smile. Seokjin smiled back at you and moved in for a hug. You gave him a side hug, while the rest of them followed. While you all exchanged greetings, two cars arrived, for all of you. "How did you come here?" Jungkook asked. If you had to choose who were the closest to, except Joon, you'd choose Jungkook, considering he was the closest to your age.

"In my car." You answered simply. "Can I go with y/n to her house before coming to the hotel?" You turned around at Namjoon's voice. He was asking this to his manager. The manager told him he could, while warning him to be on time and to be careful around paparazzi. He also jokingly told him to let you drive as he didn't have a driving license. Everyone knew Joon could be clumsy.

Everyone said their goodbyes and went to their respective destinations. You and Namjoon entered your car, while he complemented how you maintained it over the last few years when he gifted it to you. You had gotten into your dream university and had bought a small one bedroom flat near the said university.

He had told you how proud he was because your university was one of the biggest in the city, and getting in was hard. You had worked so hard, all the while doing a part time job to earn enough money to buy your own house. You were inspired by him, to work hard and not depend on anyone. The only thing your parents helped you with was making sure you were not overworking yourself and putting yourself in danger.

Shortly after you had gotten in, he had sent a small car as a birthday gift. You had almost cried that day. He had told you he didn't want you to take the bus every other day, or spend any more of your hard earned money on a car. Knowing you well, he had attached a card to the car which said that he knew you wouldn't accept it easily, and being your elder brother, he was ordering you to accept it wholeheartedly.

"So, how are your studies?" He asked, as soon as you started the car. The airport was fairly near to where you lived. "Good. I do wish that the teachers would give deadlines for projects accordingly though. The toughest ones have the shortest deadlines, while the easiest ones have the longest." You rolled your eyes. "Ah, I know the feeling. You work your butt off for a week for the harder ones, and something always goes wrong. Be it the spelling, or the wordings. And then you spend two weeks chilling, doing the project in a day, just waiting for the day you turn it in."

You both chortled. The drive was filled with laughs, while you both caught up with each other. You told him stories about what happened in your friend group, while he told you the boys' antics. His stories were absolutely hilarious.

You finally reached your apartment building, and parked the car. Helping him with his stuff, you both silently reached the elevator. Getting in, you pressed the button for your floor. A while later, you both found yourselves in your house.

"Go freshen up. I'll make dinner." You kept his stuff near the table, and pointed to the bathroom. "I like your style." He looked around and made his way towards the bathroom. "Stop complimenting yourself." You shook your head. You both knew how similar you both were. From your love for crabs and trees, to how you decorated your house, you had gotten almost everything from him.

You made some simple ramen, and you both had dinner quietly, making small talk. He looked tired, and you were ready to sleep too. You asked him to go to bed, promising you'll join him shortly. You cleaned everything up, and entered your room to take some pajamas. You can never forget the sight that awaited you.

Namjoon was curled up in a ball, hugging a pillow to his chest like a little koala, while snoring loudly. You cooed at the sight. It made him look like a baby, and for a moment, you felt like you were his elder sister, determined to protect your big baby at all costs. After silently taking out your pajamas from the closet and changing into them in the bathroom, you got in the bed.

He let out a small sigh, and moved closer to you, wrapping his arm around you torso. You remembered the old days, when you both would sleep together, and while he wasn't a big fan of cuddling, you both would end up doing just that. You weaved your fingers through his hair, and fell into a deep peaceful slumber.

2 notes · View notes

georgemackayhey · 4 years

Text

Lean On Me

"Can you do something with both George and Dean maybe like seeing the reader cry and comforting her?" "Hiii, could you write a George x reader where they’ve been dating for a while and he’s jealous of her. Love your writing"

Right, so I've gone on and combined these requests because I failed to think up two separate ideas. So here's this monster! Thanks for askin' y'all! Enjoy ♡

w/c: 5k

───※ ·❆· ※───

"We're officially not unofficial!" You announced, clinking your second glass of wine against Dean's tumbler full of whiskey.

You'd been cast as costars in an indie rom-com, and were staying in the middle of nowhere Ireland for a month, to begin filming. Tonight you'd been shown to your separate motel rooms but wound up sharing a drink in yours, catching up and enjoying each others company before tomorrow's first big shoot. And since you'd been seeing George, it didn't take Dean long to ask how his friend was doing.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean let out a bright chuckle before taking a swig of his preferred alcohol.

"Well as you know, George is off filming in the US and I'm stuck here, filming with you." You pulled a face but broke out into laughter before your playful disgust could be read. You adored Dean, and there weren't many people you'd rather be stuck in a dingy motel with.

"Before he left two days ago, we agreed not to see anyone else while we're both so busy. And to keep seeing each other when he's back." You rambled. Dean shifted on his side of the love seat as you shared a drink and conversation.

"Really?" Dean's eyes winded as his smile grew, causing a blush to appear on your cheeks.

"Yeah," You grinned. "I know he wanted to take things slow before diving into a serious relationship, but it sounds like he's ready to pick up the pace." You informed although you figured Dean already knew. They were already the best of friends when you'd come into the picture.

"I'm going to tell you something." Dean leaned in a little closer as if someone might have been listening in. You brought your glass of wine to your lips to prepare for what he might say.

"George has some pretty serious feelings for you. But he's been burned before. There have been one too many girls who wanted him for all the wrong reasons." Dean went on like an older brother, though he was quite the opposite, "The fact that he's mentioned getting more serious with you is a big deal. I hope you're ready for that because I think you're perfect together. But if you're not-"

"I am, Dean. The last thing I want is to hurt George and I swear to you I won't let that happen." You traced an X over your heart and gave your friend a stern nod, the best promise you had to show.

Your friend snorted a laugh but returned your serious nod as you both silently agreed to have George's best interest at heart.

___

"Action!" Your director shouted through a laugh as you sucked in a deep breath. You were placed at the end of a foothill where the damp grass caused you to slip every time you tried a new take.

Luckily the director got a kick out of your silly little mishap and you'd stopped laughing enough yourself to try the take again for the fourth time.

Dean was standing amongst the rubble of a halfway demolished castle, waiting for you to run into his arms. Your first day of shooting was focused on the climax of the film, and it wasn't hard for either of you to fake years of chemistry for the camera as you'd been friends behind the scenes for months now.

That's why when you finally nailed running into his open arms, prepared to be swept off your feet, you kept on laughing when his foot slipped, sending you both to the dirt.

"You weren't supposed to do that!" You laughed. "We finally almost had it! I was depending on you." You fake cried, while Dean apologized through bouts of laughter.

"Take ten, we'll suss it out!" Our director laughed while a small crew scurried to help you up and clean up your costumes of dust.

After finally getting the final shoot right, you were sent off to change and grab dinner with the rest of the crew.

The middle of nowhere Ireland didn't have much to offer, so the company you kept became even more valuable.

Behind Dean, you followed the director and his wife into an unassuming pub, where you ordered drinks. You sat close together and spoke about what you'd gotten right on set and how you hoped for scenes in the future to turn out, now that you'd started bringing your characters to life.

When your extra-large drinks came, you took a selfie with the pints and followed Dean's strict orders to text the photo to George.

"Tell him I love him and wish that he was my leading lady, instead." Dean teased.

"Well, we'll just see if I catch you when you slip up next time!" You feigned offense while you formed a text to George. Under the photo of you and his dear friend, you wrote:

You're missing all the fun! But I'm missing you more. Hope your day on set is going well xx

You hadn't quite reached the heart-eye emoji stage, with George, but all you wanted to do was flood his message thread with sappy saying. Delivering all your romantic lines today was made easier if you thought of saying them to George. You couldn't wait for the film to end so that you might have the chance to actually kick off what you'd started with the man.

You met George at the Golden Globes, at one of the after-parties. Your agent knew his and you'd been wanting to congratulate the stars of such a groundbreaking film, anyhow. George and Dean were sort of a packaged deal that night, but by some miracle, you'd been left with George to finish off your free cocktails and talk about how the music was much too loud.

You went home with a funny feeling in your chest, thankful that you got to spend an hour chatting away with the handsome man, knowing you'd only gotten extremely lucky.

But not long after then, you met George again. He was all alone in a coffee shop on the lot of a studio you'd both been filming on opposite sides of. He offered you a seat across the tiny table from him, where you sipped your drinks and dove into conversation like you'd known each other for years before then.

That was the day you realized you had feelings for George, when you swore his bright eyes lingered on your lips. When he asked if you were going to some silly Hollywood party. You said yes, even though you hadn't planned on it before then.

That's how things kept going with George, for a while. You'd run into each other at events and waste the rest of those evenings sharing passing thoughts and strong opinions. Around the third or fourth run in, you got the guts to compliment his suits and the way he laughed. He finally invited you to a party you wouldn't have otherwise known about.

It was someone's birthday, and every surface of their mansion had been turned into a minibar. Dean was there, and when George left you two to find some drinks that weren't just straight vodka, Dean asked what was going on between you and his best mate. George had clearly been smitten, but you'd yet to discuss anything like that with each other.

With a push from Dean, George asked you on a Sunday morning stroll along the lake, your first official date, both glad to finally be able to call what you'd been doing more than "hanging out." That was the day you'd found out about each other's upcoming films. When George held your hand on the park bench. When you agreed to keep seeing each other when you'd finished all your work. Agreeing to keep up as many late-night chats as you possibly could, while you were worlds apart.

___

You woke up not so long after you'd fallen asleep to your phone buzzing on the nightstand. You worried you'd missed your morning alarms but a new sort of excitement took over your nerves when you realized George was calling.

"Hello?" You answered, happily snuggling back into your motel bed.

"I'm sorry, love did I wake you?" George worried, his use of a pet name causing your heart to flip.

"Well yeah, but I'm glad you did. We aren't filming until tomorrow afternoon. How's America, then?" You wondered, peering out of the crack in your curtains. The night was dark, and the light from the motel sign reflected off of the crew's cars in the lot. You heard laughter in the distance and wondered what kind of fun you were missing out on.

"It's nice. We're actually ahead of schedule. I might not be here as long as I planned." George spoke up, and you thought you heard him smile.

"Is that good news?" You wondered. He seemed so excited to head off overseas and start working again, even if his role was only small.

"I think so. Means I'm closer to getting to see you." George said, his voice was warmer and more inviting than all the blankets you were currently wrapped up in.

"That's very good news indeed, then!" You grinned. "But you know I think Dean misses you most of all, and that's really saying something." You joked, thinking about all the conversations you'd had about George since you'd been filming together.

George's delicate laughter was music to your ears. He asked you to send his sappiest greetings to Dean and the pair of you went on telling stories about your days on set. George seemed to be getting on with his castmates and enjoying his work. You were glad to hear it and made sure he knew that you and Dean were having the best of times as well.

You wanted to end the call with George by expressing how dearly you missed him, but something stopped you. Maybe it was your conversation with Dean from before when he warned you how cautious George was to move too quickly in relationships. You figured keeping in touch while so far apart counted for a lot, and settled for wishing George a happy sleep before you hung up to shut your eyes again.

___

As you wrapped up filming in Ireland, you and Dean had become rather inseparable. Since you'd been acting alongside each other almost exclusively, you were a little nervous how filming back in London was going to go. There was a new set of cast members to finish filming with, and you and Dean had developed some kind of secret language you worried might seem off-putting to everyone else.

You didn't want to be the costar known for picking favorites, so you tried your utmost to get on just as well with the folks meant to play your family members and friends.

That meant spending time off the set, going to dinner and hosting game nights when the chance arose. Granted, you and Dean often paired up to beat everyone at Monopoly, you were still succeeding in getting on with everyone.

"Tomorrow is the big fight scene. I just don't think I can punch you in the face, Dean." The actress playing your older sister laughed, reaching over to pinch Dean's cheek.

"Good, 'cause you're not really supposed too." Dean laughed, shooing her hand away. You laughed at their antics as you flitted off to the kitchen to find another beer.

Your phone had been left on the counter, and you noticed it lighting up as you stepped past the refrigerator.

You narrowly missed a call from George, his profile photo filling up your screen. When the call went dead, you noticed he'd tried to call once before then.

"Oh shit, it is Friday, isn't it?" You worried. As you and George each found the swing of your days on set, you figured Friday nights were the best time to check in on each other. But tonight you'd been so wrapped up in enjoying a night off at Dean's flat with your castmates, that you'd left your phone in the other room.

You pressed the call back button and scurried off to the back patio where you wouldn't be bothered.

"Hello love! Everything alright?" George asked. Because even though you'd agreed to call each other once a week, you'd started texting silly little updates to each other throughout most other days. And you hadn't done that at all today.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry I've been away. We've just been enjoying the rare day off."

"Ah, yeah that's alright." George was quick to assure you but you didn't miss the way his voice fell a little flat. But before you could go on apologizing, he spoke up again.

"I'm flying back home tomorrow morning." He spoke, and now he sounded as if he were on the verge of bursting out into excitable screams.

"Tomorrow morning?" You grinned. That was a week earlier than he'd been planning.

"We finished everything today and I've booked the soonest flight back. I can't wait to see you." George cooed through the phone line.

With all your might, you held back squeals and confirmed that you were just as excited to finally see him again, as well. Thought you'd started things off at an awkward time, your feeling for George blossomed more every day. Between flirty texts and late-night phone calls that lasted as long as they could with completely different schedules, you'd fallen head over heels for George.

He made you laugh, even all the way across the ocean. He would ask genuine and thoughtful questions and he'd never hold back from giving you his own honest and meaningful answers. You practically melted through the slots of the patio board when you ended your phone call with "See you tomorrow, darling!"

___

"That's a wrap for today!"

"Holy shit, I'm so glad we got that on the first take." You shivered. It was a little too cold to pretend to enjoy yourself in a swimming pool.

Dean was by your side next thing you knew, offering a robe from the costume lady who was sewing up another actor's tuxedo.

"Just think, all the hard parts are over. Only a few more days left of easy shooting!" Your friend held open the robe as you slid your arms in as a frown pulled at your lips.

"Don't remind me! I don't know what I'll do when all the fun is over." You pouted like a kid and dramatically threw yourself against Dean in a hug you couldn't manage while keeping your hands tucked under your arms. Your friend ran his hands along your shoulder with a laugh as you shivered, but the extra bit of warmth didn't last long.

"Oh my God!" Dean chirped, shoving you away from him all of a sudden. Just before you had time to shout at him for being rude, you noticed what caught his attention.

George! There he was, dressed in dark jeans and cozy sweater, happily chatting away with your agent before Dean got to him. The men shared a happy greeting and a warm hug as you hurried to do the same.

You shoved Dean away like he'd done to you, with a playful "Ha!," and practically threw yourself at George.

He was strong, effortlessly scooping you into his embrace and giving you a small spin from the momentum you'd gained. You'd never greeted each other so enthusiastically, but somehow now, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"You're here!" You realized as George set you on your feet again.

"When you told me you'd be done round five I figured I'd just swing by." He explained, keeping one of his hands gently wrapped around your waist. You weren't very cold any more.

"I missed you." You beamed, soaking up how close he finally was, after so long. George returned your sentiments as you both stood together, enjoying nothing more for a beat.

"I just need to change, then we can get going, yeah?" You shrugged, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in your still-damp bathing suit under the itchy robe. Before you parted, you'd somehow made plans to go get dinner, and Dean was invited along.

"I did miss him too." George shot you a playful face as he moved to find where Dean had gone off too, leaving you to go change. You'd never flown in and out of the makeup trailer faster, sliding your clothes on and checking your face in the mirror before walking out onto the lot calm and cool.

You were totally anxious to finally get to spend time with George, but you hadn't forgotten what Dean mentioned about moving too fast.

You found both men in the car lot laughing together. They both turned their heads to see you approach, smiles widening, somehow.

"Ah, my boys. Let's go eat." You laughed, shooting Dean a look at George grabbed your hand in his.

___

You wound up at a posh Italian place, sat in the curve of a big red booth under George's arm. Dean was nearer the opposite curve, leaning a in a little closer to show George a bunch of dumb pictures the two of you had accumulated on set for the past couple of moths.

"Can I tell him about Taco Bell?" Dean choked back a laugh and looked at you with pleading eyes.

"I guess." You smiled after a beat. One night, not so long ago, you and Dean got plastered beyond belief and wandered to the nearest Taco Bell on foot. Their diner was closed, but their drive-through was open, and you had no choice but to try and walk up to the order box and try your luck. No one would respond, but Dean swore he saw workers avoiding your drunken rambles through the windows. The adventure ended with you having burst into tears, somehow deciding the Taco Bell was purgatory, drunkenly crying into the drive-through box. It made Dean laugh so hard he vomited next to the bins in the parking lot, and the pair of you got sternly asked to leave.

Not your finest hour, but certainly one of many memories from the highlight reel you and Dean had spent the early spring creating together. And it was Dean doing most of the talking tonight.

You spent your time snuggled close to George's side. His hand rested on your thigh while you buried your face in your hands at the end of each of Dean's stories.

George sat back, listened and laughed, and made fun of both of you along the way. You and Dean were in the middle of arguing over the details of your first petty fight when the check came.

"I have been missing out." George took the last swig of his drink.

"Well, we're glad to have you back mate. I better get going, though." Dean explained that he had a meeting with his agent before your day on set started tomorrow. When you all made your way out of the restaurant, you hugged Dean goodbye, calling him some silly nickname you coined in Ireland. He pulled a face at you, waved to George leaving the two of you alone for the first time in ages.

"I'd hate for the night to end, already." George gave you a convincing set of puppy dog eyes, but you didn't need convincing.

"It doesn't have to!" You spoke rather quickly. "We could go back to mine and watch a film or something."

You offered a bashful shrug, hoping your excitable offer wasn't too forward.

But before you knew it, you were leading George into your studio flat, offering him something to drink as you flipped on a few lights on the way.

Tea was in order. You leaned against the kitchen island while George leaned against the counter, delving into conversation like you did best. He'd asked about some of the pictures you had framed of your family and friends, and you asked about his.

When the kettle rang and you filled two cups and asked George what he was most excited about being back home.

"I'm just glad to finally be with you." He informed, reaching out to pull you closer with the gentles tug at the hem of your shirt. He was a lot more affectionate than you remembered, but you certainly weren't complaining.

"I wish I'd spent all month having all that fun in Taco Bell purgatory with you." George joked, hooking one of his impossibly strong arms around your waist.

"George Mackay, are you a little jealous?" You laughed unbelievably, shoving your cup of tea a little further from you.

"Dean has gotten to kiss you more than I have, yet." George gave a little shrug as his bright blue eyes searched your face. If he was actually bothered, but the tiny smirk on his lips made you believe otherwise.

"Why don't we get up to speed, then, huh?" You rose a brow, resting one of your hands on George's sharp jaw. He didn't waste another second before diving into a kiss that left you breathless.

You expected your first kiss with George to be gentle and soft, just like him. But this kiss was fierce and hot and his hands were pushing your shoulders against the wall. And his lips only left yours to travel down your neck.

Your tea went cold that night.

___

You plopped into Dean's lap for the first shoot of the day. A rush of gratitude swooped over you, glad that you'd been able to work with someone you cared for so deeply.

"For someone who claims to know his best friend so well, you sure were off the mark." You playfully jabbed Dean in the ribs. He shot you a curious glare as a boom mic was being switched out for another.

"Do I even wanna know?" Dean chuckled, gazing up at you.

"All I'm saying, is he definitely didn't seem to care for taking things very slow last night." You proudly hinted as Dean let out an understanding yet mortified laugh. Some of your castmates were trickling onto set as your director checked behind the camera.

"He was totally jealous of all the time we've been spending together." You laughed, picking a piece of lint off the actor's sweater.

Dean's smile faltered as the director called action. Your friend's arms wrapped around your waist as you went on pretending to be in love.

After a long day of hard work, you and Dean started off in the direction of the makeup trailer. You'd kept one arm slung around his shoulders as he went on yammering about the last scene you shot.

George had decided to surprise you on set for the second day in a row, this time with a coffee for you and Dean, each.

"Awe, would ya look at that, we've got our own personal gofer." You laughed, looking at Dean as he gently slipped out from under your arm to accept George's kind offer. The labels on the cups were from a tiny bakery down the street from your set, but you didn't think much of it until you took a sip.

"Oh my God." You looked up to George with starry eyes. You wouldn't have cared what he ordered you, but he somehow got it exactly right. "How'd you know my favorite order from this place?"

You'd never been to the bakery with George before, and you couldn't remember a time you'd mentioned it to him. He really was the perfect boyfriend.

"I asked Dean," George admitted with a smile. You thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, and when you turned to do the same to Dean, he was gone.

___

You spent the rest of the week acting your heart out during the day and decompressing in the evening with George between movie marathons and dinner dates.

He was always checking in, making sure you were comfortable and always excited to experience new things with you. And you made sure George knew just how glad you were for his company. And especially charmed by the fact that he could never keep his hands off you. When you sat watching old tv shows he would trace patterns against your knee. He kept an arm around you as you walked the streets and always greeted you with a kiss.

Today, that's how he left you on set, with a sweet peck on your temple and a few words of encouragement. It was your last day, and you just weren't ready to say goodbye to everyone.

The last scene to shoot was of you and Dean, alone together in the isle of a convenience store. Your characters were meant to be having their first big fight, when a song comes over the loudspeakers neither of them can resist dancing along, bickering all the while.

It took you a couple of takes with the director suggesting different approaches, but it was over in the blink of an eye, Dean's character delivering the final line, while you were instructed to keep lazily dancing. After the director called cut, someone turned up the music and everyone cheered as your time together drew to a close.

You danced your way closer, throwing your arms around Dean in celebration.

"You've been the best castmate in the world! Thanks for putting up with me this long Dean. On and off set." You nodded, feeling your heart begin to ache. Dean hugged you back, offering similar sentiments, but unusually, something in Dean's tone fell flat.

You gave him an extra squeeze before he slinked off toward his trailer. While everyone else was offering goodbye hugs, you wondered if Dean wasn't keen to show how sad he was too. You shook it off and went on thanking the rest of the cast and crew for such a wonderful production.

The wrap party was later in the evening, but you left a big part of your heart on the set that was being torn down on your ride home.

___

George made it a bit hard for you to slip all the way into your party dress with the way he kept slipping it right back off. But with a little luck, you straightened his collar and dragged him out the door in the nick of time to party the night away.

The wrap party was at a nightclub where a live band was playing. As you slipped past drink stations and loudspeakers with George's hand in yours, you were reminded of when you met. How you'd keep running into each other on nights like these.

You held his hand a little tighter as the thought passed your mind and smiled up at him like a loon as he moved closer to your side.

"I'm glad you're here with me." You spoke up past the music.

"Me too." George grinned, leaning to place a kiss on your temple.

Your cast members bombarded you with hugs when they noticed you'd made it, asking for selfies and handing out drinks.

When you turned to look for George he'd found Dean and you were glad to skip toward them.

"Long time no see." You joked, sitting perfectly between the two of them.

"I can't believe it's over." Dean shook his head and cast a look to you.

"Yeah, but we still have press tour! And the premieres." You reminded, lifting your glass to your lips.

"Yeah." Dean smiled like he was glad, but you knew him better than that. Now was the time when he'd dream up some wild scenario he hoped would happen as you traveled to advertise for your new film. Or surely at the very least crack a joke.

You almost wanted to ask if he was okay, as he'd been totally reserved for a couple of days in a row. Of course, you knew he was probably just as sad for the production to wrap, but something was off. You could just tell.

___

Dean was weird during the entire press tour. He kept getting increasingly weirder as the days went by. And it was hard to pretend you weren't bothered. You called George every night, begging him to check up on Dean, make sure he was alright, get him to tell what he wouldn't tell you.

Over the past couple of months, you and Dean had grown inseparable and after the film, that changed. You knew your closeness couldn’t have been an act. You knew Dean made genuine connections with people he cared about. He was still close to George after their film had ended. Why was he suddenly so cold to you?

When you did interviews together, it was almost like it used to be, suppressing snickers and sharing secrets through the rise of an eyebrow.

But on the bus and out to dinner, Dean kept his distance. He still spoke with you and asked about your life, but it was like he'd severed himself off from your connection. By the time you got home, you hoped leaving him alone for a week and getting back to normal would make things better.

But the morning of the premiere, you'd had all you could take. You and Dean were just leaving a hotel conference room after the last of a dozen interviews.

Dean walked a few paces behind you on your way out to the lobby. George was there, waiting to take you to some celebratory lunch before you were meant to start getting ready. He was all smiles, happily greeting you with a warm hug. He started to say something about how excited he was to take you out when you noticed Dean brush by, headed for the door.

"Uh, give me a second." You decided all of a sudden, leaving George in the small waiting area so you could catch your castmate before he reached the hotel doors.

"Dean! Wait." You demanded, fed up with how strangely he'd been acting. You couldn't possibly show up to the premiere tonight without at least trying to make things better.

You had to chase him out of the revolving doors, but when you reached the pavement, Dean was shocked enough by your low tone to stop and face you. You finally had his full attention, thank God.

"Are you okay? Have I upset you, somehow? Did I do something? Please tell me what's wrong." You begged, your throat started to close, but you managed to press the words out in time. As you spoke, Dean's face changed.

His eyes left yours, cast to the floor, and flicked up to somewhere behind you.

"Please talk to me." You begged in a hush. You didn't care about anyone passing by who might have looked at you funny.

"I-I'm sorry. No, I'm not upset with you. I never meant to make you think that." Dean explained in a low manner.

"Then what's going on?" You asked, worried by how reluctant he was to say anything.

"I didn't want to be in the way." Dean started, searching your face. "You and I had gotten so close and when George got back I felt like I was breaking some kind of boundary." Dean sighed, waving a hand as he cleared the air. And right on time, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed George stepping out of the revolving doors to find you.

"I was only trying not to hurt his feelings." Dean finalized. All the while, you tried taking a step closer to your friend. He took a step back.

"Well, you're hurting mine." You batted back, feeling tears sting your eyes. You were much too overwhelmed by the interaction to keep talking to Dean.

As George approached the pair of you, you grabbed his hand and spun around to the other end of the pavement. You heard Dean call your name to try and stop you, but you were already around the corner to where George's car had been parked.

George hurried behind the wheel but didn't start the engine. He leaned gently toward where you settled back against the passenger seat, defeated. You sucked in a sharp breath, determined not to totally lose your cool.

"What's happened?" George worried in a high pitch. One of his warm hands wrapped around your shoulder as you tried understanding everything Dean had just explained to you.

"He finally told me what his problem was and," You let out a humorless laugh as a tear escaped. "And I guess I just wasn't expecting it."

"Oh love," George barely whispered, lifting a finger to wipe your tear away.

"I think... he thinks you're jealous of him? Or at least he was afraid of our friendship coming across as something it wasn't, in your eyes. So he just shut me out. I guess it's nice he cares for you that much huh?" You let out another small, watery laugh.

George had that adorably confused look on his face, casting his pretty eyes into yours.

"That's what he’s been worried over?" George seemed just as confused as you had been. He'd never been able to get a read on Dean, any time George had tried to talk to him about how strangely he'd been acting.

And you knew George wasn't jealous, not of Dean. He asked to hear all of the fun stories you had about Dean while you'd been working together. George seemed delighted that his friend cared for you so deeply. You knew that.

George reassured you that was the case, admitting he might have been a little jealous of missing out on all the fun, but not of Dean.

You'd calmed down a bit, with the help of George's sweet, gentle talk. He reassured that you weren't silly for crying, and then he took you to lunch. As you fueled up for a long exciting night, George insisted that he would knock some sense into his dear friend and that you'd get back to being just as close in no time.

___

The pair of you got all dolled up, painted for a premier. George's suit complimented your dress and you confessed you were totally madly in love with him. Maybe it was too soon, but it was just the right time, all things considered. George returned your sentiments with a light in his eyes and a smile on his face and everything was almost perfect.

You piled into George's car and drove to the studio where a limo was waiting to escort you and Dean to the premier. You were a packaged deal tonight, and he never invited a date.

Thank God Dean was already waiting at the studio for you, and early. George was able to pull him aside as your agent fussed over a bunch of silly questions. Your director still hadn't shown up by the time George and Dean reappeared before you, both wearing relaxed smiles.

"I'm sorry I never really talked to you. I shouldn't have ghosted you like that." Dean approached, looking dapper in his navy blue suit.

"Never do it again. Yell at me next time, I can take it." You swore, nodding in his direction. Dean rolled his eyes as his smile grew and all the tension between you fizzled away.

"So are we finally back to normal? I want to have game night and I need you on my Monopoly team." You fell back into a familiar banter, longing to make plans with your friend.

"I can't play a single board game without you. We share one brain cell, I think" Dean reached out, grabbing your shoulder to pull you into a hug, a real, meaningful one. You could have cried again just knowing he would be there to make fun of you for being so emotional.

"Yeah well, you're gonna need it because I'm the best Monopoly player in the British Isles." George sauntered up to the pair of you, seemingly very serious. You let out a loud chuckle as your embrace with Dean ended.

And when you piled into the limo between the two people you cared most about, you wondered how you'd gotten so lucky. It was official, everything was picture perfect.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic #dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman x reader #dean charles chapman fanfic #dean charles chapman imagine

152 notes · View notes