#I’m so so so so so incredibly in love with him I can hardly fathom it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lumiereandcogsworth · 5 months

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1 3 8 13 and 16 for Adam 🫶🏻

thank youuuuu i talked too much because that’s My Boy so it’s under the cut now hahah

1. Why do you like or dislike this character? i like so MUCH about this boy!!!!!!!

i love how ridiculously hopeless and stubborn he is at the beginning. he hardly even cares that belle is there at first, she’s more a nuisance than anything.

i love that first moment when you see how truly scared he really is. after he sees belle in the mirror, the reflection returns to a regular mirror and he sees himself, sees the monster that he still is, and you just see how scared he is!!! he looks at the rose and he’s just!!! aahhh!!🥺🥺🥺 he wants to be freed, it’s just so hard for him to Try And Change.

i love how nerdy he is :3 like i just said this in a recent post but GOSH making him a pretentious asshole about books was just the most incredible thing the live action writers did to improve him. i LOVE how much of a nerd he is, and how suppressed it’s been his whole life!! i mean i don’t love that for him but it makes for a compelling character!! he’s been forced into such a specific box all his life and belle is the first person to be like “hey what if you just like. existed how you wanted to. i do it and it’s kinda fun :3” and he’s like “but everyone ridicules and bullies you” and she’s like “yeah, but i’m free.” (i don’t think they have this dialogue i think this is just like. the vibes exchanged between them. the sort of revelation that belle’s presence gives adam. anyway) i love the nerd boy

i love how DEEPLY he feels his emotions. like gosh when he’s sad, HE IS SAD. when he’s happy, HES SO HAPPY. he’s just so extreme all the time and i love it. especially with the way he loves!!! he’s so protective and worries so much about belle (and later their children) because he just loves them so so much. he can’t fathom anything happening to them. they’re his whole world 😭 he’s just… such a sweetheart🤧

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character? i am wracking my brain on this one bro. i actually saved it to answer last and i Still have nothing. i’m a canon girlie!! i love canon!!! canon is beloved to me!!! like sure it sucks that his mother died when he was a child?? or sucks that it’s very implied that his father was cruel and probably abused him?? but i still wouldn’t say those are least favorite because they make up who adam is! scars and all! demons and all! he’s a very sad and damaged little guy and he needs lots of love and hugs and kisses (enter: belle) but i don’t think there’s anything that is least favorite ?? i do always find his little Nest™️ in the corner of his room a little like… yikes 😬 but it also equally makes sense that he stopped sleeping in his own bed. the way his body is as a beast it probably Was more comfortable to sleep curled up on the floor 🤷‍♀️ so again it’s like!!! there’s a reason for everything!!! i don’t know the karma taylor swift lyrics but that’s me with canon. canon is my boyfriend, etc. etc.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise? HOW MUCH FUCKING TIME DO YOU HAVE. the fandom does two very specific things that makes me want to grab my own torch and pitchfork and burn the place to the GROUND. the charges against the “fandom”:

refusing to call him by his name

wishing he’d remain a beast

*bangs gavel* the sentence? jail for one thousand years.

no but seriously why is everyone so stupid about my boy, hm? why is it so difficult to understand. i realize they don’t say his actual name in the movies, but disney has very much confirmed that adam his name. like why ? ? don’t you want him to have ? ? a name ? ? oh i’m so glad you asked. it stems to the second charge. they far prefer him to remain a beast (in the form that he hates, in the form he was punished to be in, in the form that prevents him from ever being human again, ever truly getting a chance at a normal life where he can be a good man) people prefer him to remain a beast and therefore DENY him his humanity (you guys remember he was born a human, right? you know this isn’t shrek, correct? okay just checking) and force him to be a monster.

LOOK. does belle make him comfortable, make him feel loved, make him see that beauty is found within? yes ! of course ! but no matter how comfortable belle makes him feel in his skin, this is Not The Form He Would Ever Choose To Remain In. i think people genuinely forget he was born a human. like for real i think that’s the main issue. they think we’re watching shrek. guys it’s not shrek. he’s a human being trapped in a body that isn’t his. i’ve seen a post by a trans person who connected with him because he was like “yeah being in a body that doesn’t feel like your own fucking sucks!!! i’m glad he got to be freed and be himself!!!” anyway, don’t know why everyone fails to understand such a simple concept. but i’m done here. WHEW. constantly angers me. i’ve lost count of the amount of people i’ve blocked for making some dumbass comment about favoring him in beast form or some shit. it’s why i don’t even really consider myself in the fandom because the “fandom” is filled with lunatics for some reason. ANYWAY !!!!!! moving on!

13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot? okay in modern au i think he’s absolute rubbish at emojis. belle uses them constantly but adam never does, besides the occasional classic red heart ❤️ when he’s feeling particularly affectionate while texting belle or their kiddos. in terms of symbols and such, hmm. someday i’d really love to design his family crest. i also headcanon that maurice designs their OWN family crest that combines his and adam’s family crests. i’d love to design all these crests!!!! but anyway. i think adam is very cat-coded, so i think there’d be a big cat somewhere on the crest, like a lion. i think his wax seal stamp is just a really fancy AB (Adam de Beaumont) with some swirly flair around it. when i think of adam i think of books and maps and telescopes and the moon and cherry blossoms and clothes, he loves his clothes :3

16. What's your least favorite ship for this character? i don’t really think i have a least favorite ship! like, in my mind, you either follow canon and ship him with belle, his true love, his beloved darling, OR you deviate from canon and have some fun shipping him with others! i’ve always been a canon ship kind of girlie so while i don’t Entirely understand shipping him with others, it’s also like, you do you 🤝 i don’t particularly hate any other adam ships, they’re just not my cup of tea! but i get it like, he’s a cool character to ship with. i like dabbling in his past, pre-canon relationships every now and then myself. and that’s fun because he’s a different sort of man than he is with belle, but you can still see the little nuggets of true adam even in the early days. anyway i’m not the shipping police i’m just here for my blorbos. i care way more that we see eye-to-eye on the Treatment of adam, rather than who he’s paired with.

character asks!

#thank you!!!#fun fact i actually wrote this immediately when i woke up this morning #but i took so long writing it (it’s almost like he’s my favorite character or something) that i was starting to be late for the thing i had #to go to. SO i just saved it in drafts and Waited #had a great day but i’m so glad to be home and in blorbo land now <3 #alex tag #answered #adam #batb 2017

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marsipanic · 1 year

Text

The Gods’ Mark

Chapter 5 Part 1/2

Cordelia and Sherry have a tea party. Sherry prods Lia about her love life. They run into Toa. Lia is a dork even though she tries not to be.

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Cordelia

She hadn’t expected an invitation to take tea with Princess Sherry, but Lia accepted. The Invidian princess was pleasant, and had no underlying motive, as far as Lia could tell, and so she arranged for sandwiches and sweets to be brought to them in one of the courts gardens.

“Your home becomes more and more incredible with each passing day,” Sherry said. “I understand why you would be so apprehensive about strangers coming into it.”

Lia blinked. It wasn’t like she tried very hard to hide her disdain, but she never intended it towards Sherry. Just her father, her brother, her friends, and classmates…

“Gods,” she said, apologetically. “I did not intend to offend you. I must seem like a boorish sort.”

“Not at all,” Sherry offered a smile. “Your sister and you have been placed in a precarious situation. I can only fathom what it would be like.”

“You’re very kind,” Lia said. “In truth, marriage and love had always been our very last priority. We have an entire empire to run so it seemed rather foolish to entertain.”

Sherry looked at her, perplexed.

“Never once?”

Lia chuckled and looked down at her cup.

“I’m afraid I haven’t had much a conversation with anyone outside of official business. Though, I suppose I’ve given them very little opportunity.”

“They are at quite a loss on how to court the two of you,” Sherry giggled. “It’s quite the topic of conversation in guest lounge.”

“Oh?” Lia raised an eyebrow.

“They’re quite daft,” Sherry sighed. “But between you and I, has anyone made you even a little curious?”

Curious? Hardly, Lia thought.

“They’re all pleasant enough…mostly,” she said instead. “Master Guy keeps to himself, unless he is ruffling my sisters’ feathers. Master Lynt is always asleep. Master Fenn is flirtatious, but keeps himself entertained, it seems. And your lord brother is cordial.”

“And Master Toa?” Sherry asked. “What is your opinion of him?”

Lia thought of their orchestrated meeting in her music room, and his pleasant smile behind the piano. He had been different from what she had initially surmised from him, that much was true. Toa also took interest in her playing, lauded her for her ability even. But, of course, there was no guarantee that was genuine, and not his father or sister pulling strings.

The pause must have been fat, as Sherry tilted her head, and the corner of her mouth turned slightly upward. Lia started.

“He’s fine. Master Toa is…agreeable.”

“Agreeable?” Sherry echoed.

“How about we take a walk?” Lia quickly changed the subject. “We can discuss plans for Claudia and I to take you out to see the nightlife. Gods know, we could use a night out.”

Sherry brightened, and together they walked the halls for a time, planning their outing, as well as their clothes, until she was so excited she seemed to vibrate. They were giggling girlishly, when they rounded the corner, and nearly collided with Toa and Knight.

Lia stiffened immediately, a slight blush forming in her cheeks for being caught in such a way.

“Good evening, Master Toa! Knight,” Sherry said.

His eyes widened but then softened, before nodding.

“Good evening, Princess Sherry. Your Highness,” he said, and bowed, slightly.

“Good evening,” Lia said.

There was an awkward pause. Knight shuffled uncomfortably beside his master and would not make eye contact.

“How is your maid?” Toa asked.

“She is well. I healed the cut quickly,” Lia said. Did he seem nervous? Did she? Ridiculous. She had dealt with countless foreigners and every noble house in the empire. “All is well.”

“That’s a relief to hear,” he said. There was another awkward pause. “Have you seen the song list for the upcoming ball, yet?”

It wasn’t an odd question. Still, Lia was taken aback.

“No, not yet. Should I have?”

Toa seemed to shift a little, uncomfortably.

“I…made a recommendation,” he said. “The score has been submitted. I hope you approve.”

“Frankly, as long as the pianist doesn’t skip entire measures as they have in their rehearsals, I should count us all blessed,” Lia sighed, and folded her arms.

“Ah, yes, I noticed,” Toa said.

“They hang people for less in some countries,” Lia continued. “It’s maddening.”

He hummed in agreement and his face grew serious.

“Might I take it upon myself to find a replacement? It could relieve us all of the burden.”

“Oh?” Lia smirked and squinted her eyes, mischievously. “Are you to be the one? Or I? Should I inform the realm we’ve started a band?”

She had intended to throw him off guard and catch him in the act of only playing the part of a good natured prince. Surely, the instance in the music room was a fluke and now there was no piano to speak for him.

Instead, he smiled: chuckled, even.

“In lieu of disgraced pianists, perhaps we should. We couldn’t do worse, and we could save your subjects the earache.”

“How noble of us,” Lia laughed.

Beside her, Sherry cleared her throat loudly enough to make them both start.

“I’m here, too, by the way,” she said, although she was grinning ear to ear.

Lia’s cheeks turned slightly pink, embarrassed that she had forgotten her friend standing at her side.

“Do what you wish with the music,” she said. “I have other preparations to make. Good night, My Lord.”

She hooked her arm with Sherry’s and hurriedly began making her way down the hall before Toa had a chance to properly respond.

Sherry was not easily persuaded to move on from the situation. The grin remained on her face as Lia bustled closer to the guest chambers.

“You two seemed to carry on quite nicely,” she said.

“We have a common interest in music. I have such in common with a lot of people, you will find,” Lia said, hoping it would be enough to change the subject.

“Master Toa seemed less serious, just then. I daresay, he might have even relaxed while talking to you,” Sherry pressed on. “Have you two spoken before?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lia said, turning her head away to hide the red deepening on her face. “We were making plans to go to The Ivory, were we not?”

Sherry looked ar her knowingly, but finally, changed the subject. The last thing Lia needed was for everyone to think that she had plans for any of the Saligians or give them the idea that they had a chance. No matter how musically talented or handsome.

#court of darkness #toa qelsum #guy avari #guy avari/ claudia zaethis #Toa qelsum/ Cordelia Zaethis #My OC's #cod fanfic #cod guy #makai nightmare

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yeojaa · 4 years

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GIRL we need a devil in a new suit drabble where jungkook gets jealous pls bless us😭😭❤️

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. explicit. tags. kook being hilarious and naive, reader being a little frustrated but head over heels, smut in the form of: titty sucking (kook is a big boob guy in this), cunnilingus, kook wanting to love you forever. wc. 2.1k. author note. i am... so in love with this couple so what was meant to be a “kook gets jealous and breaks reader’s back” turned into... this.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t get jealous. Not because he doesn’t care, or he’s unaffected, or any other negative connotation under the sun. He doesn’t because he’s him, too soft and sweet and silly to believe the worst in people. (This, coming from the man who’d steered clear of dating apps and blind dates because he was worried he’d be hurt.)

Once, you’d been waiting for him to pick you - he’d been running late, dinner with his parents and younger sister - and he’d found you chatting politely to an old fling of yours. Well, maybe not so old. A recent fling, a friend of sorts. Someone who’d swanned into your life during your college years and had remained there ever since, popping his head in from time to time.

You’d always been on good terms, caught up for lunch every six months or so when he’d return home from his overseas job. In the past, you’d found familiarity in the shape of his hands, the neon outline of his almond eyes and pouting lips. He was good in bed, as charming between the sheets as he was on the street.

But your heart belonged to Jungkook now - had, before you’d even realised it - and Taewoo was just another guy. Another face in a crowd.

Still, you’d thought your beloved boyfriend would have some sort of reaction. Maybe a quirk of his perfectly groomed brows, a certain tightness belying his displeasure in the softly peaked bow of his mouth. You’d spied neither after extracting yourself from the hug and waving goodbye. Jungkook had been sunshine and sweetness, opening your door for you and stamping a kiss to your cheek.

That night, he’d loved you how he always had, with you crying his name and making a mess of his sheets.

Another time, you’d been at a work function. One of those ridiculous galas you loved, full of women in their highest heels and men in their swankiest watches. (You’d worn Aquazzura that night, Jungkook with an Audemars Piguet loose around his wrist.)

He’d stuck close to your side, far more interested in the way your dress hugged your figure, cut intimidatingly high over your thigh and revealed the swell of your ass at juuuust the right angle. Yejin had been the only one to tear him away, insisting on shots that you knew she couldn’t handle. Anything went if free booze was involved.

Thirty minutes later - give or take, since you hadn’t had a watch of your own on - your boyfriend had returned, flushed and adorable. There’d been a garden of colour creeping over the expanse of his chest, peeking around the collar of his shirt and disappearing into his neatly tousled strands. He’d giggled his way back to you, somehow completely oblivious to the man that’d found you at your table and settled himself into the spot labelled Jeon Jungkook.

The imposter had been affronted, gaze narrowed at the younger man who was a little too loose, a little too smiley. Wholly out of place at an event like this, where people spent too much time up their own asses, noses held aloft and business cards exchanged.

(One of the reasons you loved Jungkook so much. He was a breath of fresh air in a world you thrived in - found humour in, at the very least - carrying you high above the clouds with the sound of his laughter.)

“Hi, baby.” Your darling boy smothered you in kisses, traced them up and over the exposed expanse of your shoulder, nosing against your skin, utterly unbothered by the man shooting him daggers, wishing him ill from the spot he’d wrongly claimed.

Of course, he’d thought Jungkook was making a point - claiming what was his - but that was so far from the truth you’d almost laughed when he’d spoken, voice carrying above the slightly laboured breaths of your lover. “I guess that’s my cue to leave, huh?”

You’d smiled, nodded with a hand threaded into cornsilk curling over Jungkook’s nape. “Looks like it.”

(Then your idiot love - your big-hearted moron, your doe-eyed baby - had come up for air, cheek resting in the palm of his hand. “Where’s your friend?” He’d asked, eyes so wide you couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his question.)

Such was the kind of person Jungkook was, with an unwavering belief in the goodness of others, a silver thread outlining everyone’s silhouette. You sometimes wondered what it would take to drive him to any sort of displeasure, any sort of emotion beyond quiet melancholy (seldom seen but heavily felt, when the rare occasions rose) or easygoing amicability (his default setting). Not that you’d ever push to see that, of course.

You were happy. Hopelessly in love. You wouldn’t have traded him for the world - couldn’t even fathom doing anything to hurt him.

And yet, you discover albeit by accident - it’s really not that hard. All it takes is a pretty girl.

“This looks incredible,” she says, standing close, long dark hair falling in a fluid curtain down the line of her back. It’s the loveliest shade, cool-toned beneath the boutique lights, and reflects colour like a waterfall. You’d complimented her on it when you’d stepped into the fitting area, a handful of hangers set across the rolling rack.

Fingers smooth over embroidery, revelling in the feeling of it over your skin. It’s a beautiful thing, black tulle that hangs to your fingertips. Not Jungkook’s preferred style - he much prefers harnesses and so many straps it might as well be a cat’s cradle - but you think he loves it nonetheless.

(You’d confirm, but he’s been stoically silent, seated in the plush chair tucked beside the privacy partition, normally soft gaze hard and trained on his phone. He doesn’t seem very much in the mood to talk, hardly reacting with each outfit change. A nod here, a smile there. Not even the most scandalous of the options - a black corset decorated in Leavers lace - had elicited his usual enthusiasm.)

“You think so?” You’re not insecure about your body - know what it looks best in, which assets to play up. Still, it’s nice to hear from someone other than your doting boyfriend, the people caught in your orbit.

The sales associate nods, beams at you in the multiple mirrors. A hand of her own drifts over the thin strap of the slip - an innocent gesture that dislodges wayward strands of hair from beneath. “Of course— and I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to sell it.”

You nod, satisfied. Even if Jungkook doesn’t seem ecstatic, your own joy makes up for it, buyer’s delight spilling over. “I’ll take the satin robe, the blush silk set, and this in the violet.”

“Great choices,” she hums, pulling back the curtain to the adjoining change room to allow you privacy. Silence follows as you slip the delicate number off, returning it to its hanger. You don’t expect when the brunette continues speaking - presumably to your surprisingly surly boyfriend. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yep.” He’s never been a man of few words, usually so full of excitement that he rambles when he doesn’t mean to.

It’s a dead giveaway - a confirmation that something’s wrong.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to broach the subject, your purchases already paid for and a firm hand on the small of your back the moment you’ve stepped out of the dressing stall. “Jungkookie?” You mean it quietly, just for the two of you, but falter when he slots his fingers between yours and all but tugs you out of the boutique. You hardly even have a chance to toss the helpful girl an apologetic smile, imposing glass swinging shut behind you.

“Men—men are fine. I don’t have to worry about them.” There’s a confidence you’re so proud to see, turning his words as solid as the weight that rests against your hip, sears burning heat into your bared skin. “No other man is going to love you better than me. But women?” A shudder runs the length of his imposing frame, tugs his shoulders up to his ears and tingles the small of his back. “Women are scary.” (It’s a sentiment he’s echoed in the past. In particular, months ago when you’d insisted he dive into the dating scene.)

Hands thread through his too-soft strands, twirl the ends around your fingers as he speaks, nearly muffled into the crook of your shoulder. He’s being so tender, giving you all the love he has to offer as he writes his insecurities into your skin, offers them with the wet of his tongue.

“A woman might sweep you off your feet and steal you away.”

You laugh then - sound snapping past your teeth before you can tuck it away. It filters loudly into the baies scented candle you’d lit when you’d gotten into his apartment.

Jungkook whines in response - a terribly endearing sound that makes you roll your eyes but only with affection (always with that) - and buries his face into your tits, sucking your nipple into his mouth with complete disregard for the tulle that acts as a barrier. Saliva stains the material, makes it stick to your hardened bud as he laves over it with his tongue - bites surprisingly gently - and tugs it just hard enough to have you keening.

“S-s’not funny,” he huffs, palming your other breast in his broad tattooed palm. When he continues, he bites into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against whatever lies beneath your flesh. “She was flirting with you.”

It’s less of a sigh of annoyance - more sensual, drowning in need. “She was not.”

He nips at the delicate flesh again, spreads crimson marks all across the sensitive skin until it’s a mosaic beneath the fabric, his finest work painted by his second favourite brush. “That’s what you think but she was.” The hand previously kneading your skin drops, flat of his palm sliding easily over your bare pussy.

There’s zero hesitation when he slots his fingers on either side of your clit, catches the delicate pearl against the webbing of his hand and applies pressure that has you bucking beneath him. It’s not nearly as aggressive as he normally is but it’s just as good, paired with the sinful motions of his tongue and teeth.

“She wants to be the one doing this,” he continues, saliva pooling across your chest, slipping into the valley of your breasts only to be licked up by the flat of his tongue. He continues even once you’re clean, skin sticky and a little gross but so erotic it makes you quiver. Then he descends, pushes the hem of your new slip higher, and licks another stripe from the joint of your thigh up to your belly button. Repeats it again, moving lower with each pass until he’s sucking your clit into his mouth. “She wants to be the one tasting this pretty, pretty pussy.”

You reach for his hand - the one somewhere near your ribs, side of his wrist soothing against the ladder of bones - and tangle your fingers together as he drives you mad, tip of his tongue switching between sweet kitten licks and tantalising figure eights.

“Baby,” you coax, reprimand almost. Jungkook’s never this lenient, never this sweet on you (not inside the bedroom, at least). It brings you to a different high, his love folded into lovely origami cranes you tuck into your pockets and the spot you’ve carved out for him within your chest.

“Sing for me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t mean literally - refers instead to the sound of your voice when it leaps three octaves, bounces between sultry and singed, burnt at the edges by the fire he brings to life.

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.” Despite how the words muffle, come broken between the glide of his tongue within your fluttering walls, you can hear the sincerity in them. The earnestness that begs you to promise him this simple thing. “Not for her. Not for anyone.”

“I won’t leave you,” you answer, threading the vow between your fingers as if they’re the thread binding your love story together. “Not for her - not for anyone.”

#anon.eml #bts drabble #bts imagine #bts au #bts fluff #bts smut bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #incoming.eml #work.zip #drabble.zip #devil.doc #jungkook.doc

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

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For the bot reader sparkling prompt what about Swerve and or Whirl? (I’m especially curious about Whirl’s reaction if the (or one) of the sparkling(s) resembles him pre-empurata) I would toss a possible Misfire in there too but I don’t think he’s a bot you usually do.

Hope you're ready for FEELS and CUTE SPARKLINGS because that's absolutely my favorite combo anon! Plus I'd always liked the Scavengers but never really looked into their appearance in the comic until now, and thank you for giving me the impetus to learn about the chaotic but still lovable gaggle of misfits.

Swerve

·He's admittedly been on a whole new level of euphoria since the two of you started dating, but the moment he found out you were gonna be Creators he more or less ascended. Every scan nearly brings him to tears and he keeps all the pictures on him wherever he goes, so any bot that comes near will be ambushed by a flood of bragging and a veritable album of a bitlet that hasn't even been born yet. Suffice to say that when it was finally time to meet your little bundle, he was emotional, though for your sake he remained a surprisingly steadfast and supportive partner through the entire emergence. But the moment he laid his visor on that squawling little bitlet...

·"Tears" aren't quite sufficient to describe the waterfall that poured from his visor, but thankfully the staff was quite accustomed to such reactions and smoothly checked over the newborn before handing them back to their new parents. As a metallurgist for a species made of metal that's at it's most vulnerable after birth, he's actually been present for a few sparklings entering the world to provide potential care for those considered high risk, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing your beautiful new bitlet in person.

·Between praising you and the beeb he can hardly get a coherent word out through the blubbering, but his awe and adoration is still clear as day. You made a whole new bot, and now they're here, and they're the most amazing little sparkling the planet has ever seen! Every feature of yours or his that he sees gets him crying anew, and he can't possibly fathom what he's done to deserve any of these blessings. Countless photos of their first few hours are accumulated to join his collection in addition to being shared via intergalactic Wi-Fi to every friend you have.

·When your chosen visitors arrive he's absolutely effusive with his praise of you and the beeb. Do they see this bitlet? Have any of them ever seen anything this precious in all of history?! His Conjunx made them isn't that the most amazing thing in the entire galaxy like how did they even do that?! Even bots who know him well are amazed by how genuinely tender and affectionate he is, as there's not a joke to be heard from him even once. Truthfully he can't think of anything funny about this at all, except maybe how even the tougher bots that visit absolutely melt when they see the sweet little face of a newborn amidst a bundle of blankets, but he can't really blame them now can he?

·Despite all of his joy for the two of you being Creators, when it's just you and him and the sparkling again, he's quite hesitant to ask if he can hold them. He's held them before in the rush of the moment, but here in the still and calm... It worries him. There's so much caution in his grip when he takes them into a gentle cradle, his bulky arms easily supporting the tiny weight despite how unnaturally heavy they feel. There's a flash of worry for all the chances he'll have to mess up, but that disappears when a little fist pops free of the blanket and into the bitlets mouth, where they contentedly suckle on it in the most adorable display he's ever beheld. Somehow he knows it will be okay in that moment, because he'll never let anything happen to you or your new little addition.

Whirl

·His reaction to his own prospective sirehood was a near perfect example of internal screaming beneath a veneer of calm. Of course he wasn't necessarily surprised, and he loved you more than anything in any universe, but... you've met him, right? Sure, you fragged him, but have you paid attention to the kind of bot he is? Do you really want any of this around a sparkling, or remixed into one? Admittedly he hadn't had an argument for your simple "yes" in reply, and to the day your little bitlet arrives he still can't think of a rebuttal, beyond how his claws don't give you much of a hand to hold or provide good massages.

·Somehow the entire process manages to be Unicron levels of unthinkable horror and awe inspiring beautiful wonder at the exact same time, and his attitude is even more varied as a result. There are moments he's the calm partner whispering sweet nothings, the aggressive coach shouting for you to kick labor's ass, the panicking wimp who refuses to believe the body parts he's seeing belong where they are, and the petrified but dutiful sire-to-be frozen in horror while you hold onto him for dear life. Thankfully he manages to reign it all in once the two of you have a newly minted bitlet wailing in the real world.

·He'd expected to be awed, but also knew to brace for seeing a bundle that... didn't much resemble his current self, due to Empurata not affecting genetics, but he never could have prepared himself for the reality. One look at this tiny and flawless little accident and he comes embarrassingly close to fainting, his long legs folding into a chair some brilliant medic was smart enough to push beside the bed, and his optic growing misty as he beholds you and the whole new person you made. There's awe at the fact he contributed to making something unbelievably perfect, happiness for a million reasons he doesn't care to comprehend, but also... sadness. A face he'd never thought he would see again is looking up at him with the biggest and most innocent pair of optics, all while a tiny mouth nibbles on a pair of servos so like the ones he had taken from him.

·He should be... angry, maybe? Old Whirl would have been angry, furious at the Functionists for ruining so much, but he just doesn't feel it. The sadness in his spark isn't even for him, it's for this little one who will grow up and eventually figure out why his sire looks the way he does, and all the pain that may cause a bot who never did anything to anyone... But that feeling is so small it's quickly swept away so he can feel what he actually wants to feel, and he wants to feel happy damn it! You and he have a bitlet, and a pretty good one as far as bitlets go! Heavy stuff can be addressed later, the two of you get to enjoy this with friends! There's precious few bots he trusts enough to visit, but those that make the cut are welcomed and invited to pay respects to the cutest sparkling ever born and the bot who squeezed them out. He has to fight incredibly hard to keep from shedding happy tears, but seeing so many of his friends coo over this tiny miracle strains his emotional reservation to the limits.

·For all the love he has for the little one, and all his progress in accepting himself, he still hasn't held them by the time night is settling and you're in need of rest. Only your obvious exhaustion and his protective nature compels him to finally accept the sleeping sparkling, and even then he's a wreck on the inside, his spark all but crackling with anxiety as the delicate beeb is laid in his arms while he stays carefully seated. Nothing could have made him understand just how tiny this little guy was until this moment. As you drift off, he tempts fate and holds out the tip of a careful claw, not daring to ventilate as he gently adjusts some blankets for a better look. Something like abject terror shoots through him as a stubby hand takes hold of him, but he doesn't move, and the little one only coos and keeps his solid little grip. At that he lets himself cry just a little. Nothing will ever hurt you or this tiny gift so long as he lives, and he won't let anything past present or future ruin the happiness you've made together.

Misfire

·His whole life he's had a soft spot for things that need caring for, but every time he's found something or someone to take care of he's told himself all he really cares about is the potential benefit for him. Recent events have forced him to admit that there's a soft spark under his... business savvy ways. Finding out he'd be a sire though? That was an entirely new level of self discovery, because he's absolutely thrilled and has no logical reason why. He quickly has to tell the rest of the Scavengers, which becomes daily updates on everything sparkling related, so even his close collection of friends is admittedly a little relieved when the bitlet finally arrives and they can meet them. Thankfully none of them were there to see him faint on more than one occasion during the delivery, but he does have to make up a story about the dents on his head when he calls to give the announcement that their newest Scavenger has arrived, claiming that he got them in a heroic dive to save the bitlet when they were still slippery and dropped by a medic.

·While never one to be too mushy, he's made incredibly sappy just by the sight of the new little bitlet when they finally end up clean and swaddled in your arms. All across the little one's features are pieces of him that he recognizes on the spot. Blended perfectly with those are obvious signs of you, creating a whole new being who's got some of you both while still existing as their own unique little wonder. It defies all logic and yet he's so happy he can't really bring himself to care. From their optics to their stubby hands to their impossibly cute little pedes they're already the most perfect being to ever come into existence, making them tied with his Creators for perfection, and no bot is ever going to be able to convince him otherwise on that undeniable fact. But, for the sake of the moment he does have to wonder; does this sparkling yet realize how attractive they're going to be?

·The group is getting a million messages a minute from the new sire as they head over to see the newest addition, and when they finally arrive he does everything he can to present the little beeb with a proper introduction but can't stop getting misty optics and sniffling the whole time. Thankfully the Scavengers are an understanding bunch. Every one of them welcomes their new teammate with a carefully observant Misfire there to ensure they don't risk any kind of damage to the bitlet. Not that he doesn't trust them, but he does know them, so... None of them take it personally. Nickel is spared this oversight, of course, being a responsible bot and a medic more than capable of holding even a proportionally sizable sparkling. One she informs the new Creators is very cute in her proffesional opinion.

·Grimlock gets a special little moment with the new Sire, specifically one in which he gets to truly see how far he's come with his little adopted family now that it's started to grow. Misfire is fully trusting as he hands over the snoozing bitlet, and while the Dinobot is beyond touched, he does indeed hesitate just the tiniest bit. Gigantic servos absolutely dwarf the sparkling when they're settled within. Despite what any bot walking into the room might think, Misfire knows that at this very moment his bitlet is more or less in the safest place in the universe. They seem to be at least somewhat aware of this, as their little tubby cheeks lift up in a smile when they behold the gigantic bot looking down on them, a sight so unimaginably adorable it makes every bot present shed at least a single tear.

·When the rest of the group heads out after leaving a mountain of gifts in their wake, Misfire happily takes the beeb so you can get some sleep, because he at least got some rest when he passed out during emergence. Holding his little one with just the tiniest hint of uncertainty, he spends the night mostly chatting with them in a fully one sided whisper conversation, though he does occasionally get a tiny sound from the sparkling he'll swear is a coherent reply. Understandably, this little one has a lot to catch up on though. He can't help smiling at the thought of all the adventures he's going to be able to brag about to them, and how many you'll all have together once this little one is up and finally walking. There's so much he'll have to teach them too, and somehow that excites him more, knowing you and he will get to help shape this little wonder into the most amazing bot that's ever lived...

#transformers #more than meets the eye #mtmte #idw #maccadam #tf #lost light #my writing #my asks #anon #swerve x reader #whirl x reader #misfire x reader #scavengers #transformers sparklings #bot reader #self insert #requests

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escapewithbts · 3 years

Note

Would you do a jungkook request of him and his crush going for a late night walk by Han river when he needs to get out of the dorms and wants to feel normal and she confesses to him amidst attempting to cheer him up?

Thank you for the request! Here you go, I hope you enjoy it :) <3

Midnight Stroll - Jungkook

————————————————

“What do you want to do now, Kookie?” You asked as the credits of the movie the two of you just finished watching rolled on the screen.

Jungkook shrugged as you looked down at your phone to see the time. 12:33am. The other members in the dorm had long gone to sleep so it had just been you and Jungkook left alone on the couch in the living room. You didn’t mind though, it was so nice having quality time with your best friend. It was rare these days since he was always so busy being a famous idol and all.

However, when you had arrived at the dorm earlier this evening you instantly noticed something seemed off about your friend. He was quiet and didn’t joke around with you as much as he usually did. It worried you and hurt your heart, since you cared about him more than anyone else in the world.

You watched as Jungkook sank further down into the couch and played on his phone. His eyebrows furrowed and he bit his lip before letting out a large sigh.

“Okay, that’s it,” you rose to your feet and walked over to where he was sitting, “let’s go.”

He peered up at you quizzically.

“Go where?”

You shrugged.

“I dunno, but we have to get you out of the house. Are you coming or not?”

Jungkook cocked his head and thought for a moment. He ran a hand through his newly blue hair before standing up.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go I guess.”

You left the dorms in Jungkook‘s black Mercedes. The streets of his neighborhood were quiet and empty with it being so late. The usual bustling city of Seoul was almost desolate, and as the two of you drove through its streets you couldn’t help but notice Jungkook begin to relax. You rode in a content silence, just the sounds of the wind from the open windows letting in the cool early Spring air and the soft tunes of Jungkook’s music coming through the speakers. There was something so calming and magical about a big city at night and you loved experiencing it with your best friend.

“Hey, (y/n)?” Jungkook suddenly spoke while you were stopped at a red light.

“Hmm?”

He turned to you, his brown doe eyes wide.

“Could we maybe go take a walk along the river?” he asked, “I haven’t been able to in ages.”

You smiled and nodded. It sounded like great idea.

“I’d love that Kook.”

Once he parked the car in the lot of one of the riverside parks, the two of you got out and headed towards the path that followed the river.

It was absolutely beautiful this time of night. All the colors of the city lights reflected on the water’s surface, creating almost a perfect mirror-like effect. You could hear water lapping gently against the sides of the wall below, and the faint sound of the few cars driving across the bridges above. The breeze was laced with the smell of flowers that had recently bloomed in the trees and on the ground. There was no one else in sight as you and Jungkook continued on the path together.

“It’s so nice to be able to walk along here when there’s no one to recognize me,” Jungkook said, “Is this how you feel all the time?”

You let out a small chuckle and gave him a sympathetic smile.

“I guess so. I’m just a nobody so no one really pays attention to me.”

Jungkook shook his head, his hair bouncing against the sides of his face.

“If I saw you I’d notice you.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach, a common occurrence when Jungkook complimented you.

You hooked your arm in his and grinned up at him.

“Aww thank you Jungkookie.”

There was a pause as you continued walking.

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” You suddenly asked, hoping it would get him to talk to you about the sad mood he seemed to be in.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the ground.

“Aiiish, kind of. I guess so. I don’t know.”

He turned toward the river and continued speaking,

“Sometimes I just wish I could live like a normal person, you know? Do things like this without having to worry. I feel trapped because I know if I go out or say something or do something wrong it will just come back to haunt me. It’s hard sometimes, and scary.”

You frowned.

“I’m so sorry, Kook. I don’t know at all what that feels like but I can imagine it sucks.”

He looked back at the ground.

“It’s all I’ve ever known in my adult life. And I know I shouldn’t whine, I’m so lucky, with my hyungs and big hit and how successful we have gotten because of army’s around the world and not having to worry about money. But sometimes...” he hesitated, “I question it, if it’s worth it, not being able to do these kinds of things.”

The two of you stopped at the railing that overlooked the river and leaned on it. You studied Jungkook’s handsome profile as he stared at the city before you, the bright lights creating a soft yellow glow on his pale skin and in his dark brown eyes. Wind whipped his hair over his eyes and he flicked it away with his tattoo covered hand.

“And? Do you find it’s worth it?” you wondered quietly.

He fiddled with his fingers before answering.

“I do, yeah. I love what I do and I love my fellow members. But that doesn’t mean I can’t avoid thinking about the what-ifs.”

You shook your head in agreement.

“No of course not.”

He looked at you and smiled for what felt like the first time today.

“I’m glad I have you though, (y/n). You make me feel like Jungkook-friend, not Jungkook the golden maknae of BTS. It’s like you keep me grounded.”

You smiled back and nudged his shoulder with yours.

“You’re welcome, Kookie, I try.”

He let out a sigh and stared at his hands.

“It sucks, I can’t even go on proper dates,” he mumbled, “And I always have to worry about their intentions...”

You suddenly couldn’t help feeling a little jealous at his mention of being with other women, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside in order to be there for your friend.

“Ahh no, Jungkook-ah. The right person will like you for you and will understand your life. I wouldn’t worry about that.”

He hummed in response and paused.

“You like me for me, right?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. What exactly was he getting at? Did he just want a confidence boost?

“Well, duh,” you chuckled, “Kookie you’re incredible. You’re hilarious even if you don’t think so; you never fail to make me laugh. You’re insanely talented at almost everything, it blows my mind. You have such a huge and sensitive heart and you use it well. You never stop working hard to get what you want. And through all that you still manage to stay modest and humble which is so admirable.”

You hadn’t even noticed the rant you had gone on until you looked back at Jungkook, a huge embarrassed smile on his face, a new red tint across his cheeks.

Your face got hot with embarrassment, too, an emotion you rarely felt around your best friend.

“I mean, it’s all true...” you finished quietly.

He muttered a thanks under his breath and gave you a shy smile.

You looked away and nervously picked at your nails. Taking a deep breath, you stood up straight and turned to face Jungkook.

“Jungkook?”

He did the same, standing up and looking at you.

“Yeah?”

You stared into the handsome face of the man in front of you. The adorable mole under his bottom lip, his round tipped nose, his big brown eyes that squinted at you waiting for you to continue, his long hair that framed his cherubic face. You really did love everything about him. And you felt maybe it was time to tell him.

“I-I,” you sighed, “I think I like you. As more than a friend. No, no, I definitely love you. Yeah. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way, I just don’t want to lose you as-“

Jungkook cut you off by placing his soft lips on yours in a passionate kiss. You melted into him, the whole world around the two of you becoming nonexistent as you wrapped your arms around his strong neck and shoulders.

You fit together perfectly and loved how familiar but exciting it felt to kiss him.

You pulled apart and Jungkook cupped your cheek in his hand, rubbing it gently with his thumb. Your lips tingled from the kiss.

“(Y/n), I’ve loved you since the day we met. What started out as a small crush developed into so much more over the years, but I was so afraid to tell you. But, I love you, (y/n), too, so much.”

You smiled widely at him, hardly being able to fathom what you were hearing. You just wanted to kiss him again. So you stood on your tip toes and did just that.

Masterlist

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bonnie-barstow-of-flag · 3 years

Text

Killer Knightmares:

@avictimofthejazz an au based off a KR season 2 episode of the same name & knight of the drones vibe.

Dr. Bonnie Barstow is dutifully diligent with all of her work. She obsesses over even the most minuscule and trivial details to achieve perfection. It’s one of the many reasons she’s been added to the staff at the University of San Francisco under the supervision of the reputable David Halston.

___

It’s virtually unfathomable how much damage an ill-programmed microchip the size of a finger-nail could inflict. A twisted sense of insatiable fascination clutches a bewitching grasp over her complete attention. The tiny chip captured under the view of the highly advanced microscope was an absolute marvel with it’s bright ridges of gold along with it’s small valleys and backroads paved in a far duller shade of silver. It’s a coded maze that Bonnie can easily interpret. One infinitesimal change to the programming can mean the difference between life and death. Bonnie’s searching, seeking out the one piece of the prototype keeping it from functioning as designed. She could never and would never give the go-ahead on anything that could be considered dangerous. Even more so given the incidents that occurred because of Karr.

“There’s a call for you on line four, Bonnie.” Comes Halston’s abrupt half-careless words. Placing indelicate hands upon the slopes of her shoulders, he continues. “I’m starting to feel like your personal secretary.” It’s a gripe he made in earnest. He’s been, in no uncertain terms, telling her former associates to stop calling for months now. That Bonnie’s happier here without them hounding her. He delighted in being able to get her to refuse their offers to have her return. Of course, David hadn’t bothered to asked permission to make those direct assertions. He just did. Dr. Halson needed her. Even if Bonnie wasn’t fully aware of it, she had become vital to the success of his and Margo’s operations.

He leans over her shoulder to take a non-committal glance at her progress with the microchip. “It’s quite strange really.” He cryptically starts. The rest of the explanation failing to come as an immediate continuance.

Skeptical, Bonnie’s turquoise orbs lift towards her revered mentor while he speaks. Worry warps her usually beautiful countenance as she discovers herself clinging to his every utterance. Every easy breath hinged upon what would come next.

When her attention is fully upon him, he reveals against the shell of her ear all that he’d been biting back. “It’s a hospital near Los Angeles. A nurse Langly from Hoff Medical Center or other. She ‘claims’ it’s urgent.” There’s a deep trench of sarcasm imbued when his lips reach the word “claims”. He is well aware that she has no real family in the city. At least no one she should want to have contact with, given all the bridges he’s helped her burn. The remnants of her family were located in Boston. His eyes befall her with the great expectation that she’d pass it off.

Halston’s blasé indifference to the potentially serious situation doesn’t settle right with her. It lays like a load of swallowed bricks and mortar, in the formation of a thick, impenetrable, unmovable wall might; uncomfortably heavy. “I...” She swallows thickly, “I’d better get that.” The brunette rises from the stool she had been occupying and brushes past him. “It’s probably a crank call.” Arrives her half-hopeful utterance as she moves towards the thick plastic phone.

Sweeping a buoyant wake of chestnut barrel-rolls from her face, she lifts the receiver to her ear. “Dr. Barstow speaking. How can I help you?” She answers. Her lower-lip tucking between her teeth as she actively listens to the other voice. Twirling her fingers around the curly-q chord, she attempts to sort her thoughts. “Wait? What?” Panic bubbles upwards in her tone. Her once lax stance stiffens against the nearest wall. Her grip on the phone tightens to prevent it from slipping from her hand. “Are you sure?” A pause. “Could you repeat that name again?”

Nurse Langly patiently repeats, “Michael Long.” After a few seconds, she adds, “you’re his emergency contact.”

The warmth and color that usually could be found in Bonnie’s features drains as the gravity of the situation is rapidly dawning upon her. This was either a twisted macabre prank or it was a genuine emergency. Hardly anyone outside the Foundation knew that name or the history behind it. To invoke that name was to tug at Bonnie’s heartstrings. She has no other choice but to go investigate. If it was Michael and he was in trouble, she would never be able to forgive herself for ignoring his call.

Was it possible that he still had her number in his wallet? That Michael had never gotten around to changing his ICE list? If he hadn’t- why?

“Keep him there as long as you can.” Bonnie tersely instructs. Her heart skips a series of beats as she continues, “I’m leaving now.” With a glance down at her own delicate wrist watch, she calculates the amount of time it’ll take her to get that location. “I should be there in a few hours.” As she puts down the receiver, Bonnie contemplates ringing Devon and the Foundation. But she doesn’t. Not until she can fully ascertain if this is a joke or not.

Halston snags the frantic brunette’s wrist as she races towards the door. Throatily he demands, “where do you think you’re going? I didn’t give you permission to leave, and I know class hasn’t been dismissed. If you leave in the middle of our project, you’ll be costing the University thousands of dollars. You’re potentially destroying any hopes you had of a scholarship.” His concerns obviously rest with their work.

She wrestles her arm back from her professor’s clutches. Turquoise orbs darken when they lock upon Halston’s. Her expression is obviously deeply wounded and yet, out of respect for her mentor, she delays. “I’m sorry. I have to go...” Her words leave no uncertain airs about them. “I’ll be back when I can.” Bonnie is well aware that her defiance of direct orders could potentially cost her this incredible opportunity. Yet, she does not care! The Foundation has and always would be a primary concern for her. It didn’t matter how much time had elapsed since her employment with them, they were her family.

Bonnie is keenly aware that Halston is beckoning for her, yelling intangible words in her wake. She doesn’t dare turn back now with her feet already set on a steady course.

----

Only one thought prevailed as the brunette lunges past other students and into the parking-lot. Michael Knight could be in real trouble, and he needed her. She can’t fathom any set of circumstances that would require resurrecting a name that should have been buried. In her gut, she knows something is terribly amiss. But what?

Seven hours of the endless highway and traffic sprawled between the former partners. Every minute of that time seemed to conjure up a fresh, new fear as to what the explanation could be. Internally, she had been running herself through an extensive list of people who knew Michael Knight before he was the man she’d grown to love. Stevie was murdered. Tanya walker died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Vernon Gray and the others were in rotting in jail.

With the review of every case, came the discomforting realization that Michael and the Foundation were in the habit of making ruthless adversaries. Some of them were worse than others.

A startling thought does occur to her. Garthe and Elizabeth Knight knew about Wilton’s pet project. He knew that his father rescued Michael Long from that cold Nevada desert. However, Garthe and Goliath had taken a swan dive off a cliff. He couldn’t be pulling a crude trick like this. He had to be dead. Or was he? Worse still, could this be the work of Garthe’s vengeful mother? No. Why would they call her for help and risk the Foundation foiling another one of their wicked plots? They wouldn’t. Not even if they were aiming for the absolute annihilation of Wilton’s every dream.

Could it be the Chameleon? No. The man couldn’t have uncovered Knight’s former life. As far as the skilled impersonator knew, Michael had always existed as Knight. His previous life was a mystery. Or so Bonnie hoped it had remained an unsolvable riddle.

Every trudged up possibility seems to leave Bonnie with more unanswerable questions. She returned, time and time again, to square one. Frustration wells up inside of her veins as the brunette settles on the idea that Knight’s run into deep trouble on an investigation. This had to be a cry for help.

-----

Whilst Bonnie Barstow was not known for speeding, her foot increases the pressure on the gas pedal. The rev of the engine increases. Tires find themselves turning over at a quicker and quicker rate. All four heated rubber tires give a squeal of relief when she finally pulls up in front of the Hoff Medical Center.

With haste, she abandons her car in the parking-lot and races inside. Flagging down the first nurse she can find, she spurts out. “Please, I’m here for Michael Knight.” Entreating eyes catch the vacuous look to the nurses eyes and she repeated her words. “I’m Dr. Barstow. I got a call at the University where I work. I’m here for my - Michael Knight...” Ah, that’s where the issue dwells. She cringes before correcting herself. “Michael Long.”

That name garnered the desired knowledgeable reaction from the nursing staff. “This way.” The blonde nurse instructs taking up the lead through the sanitized hallway, armed with her clipboard.

“Can... can you tell me what happened to Michael?” Bonnie fearfully presses. She swallows down every fear collecting inside of her veins and penting-up in her chest. Having a breath catch in her throat, she manages to choke out. “Is he -- is he alright?” The concern taking up residence in the concentric confines of her eyes is genuine. Lord knows, she wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him.

The nurse keenly eyes her. The sympathy evident upon all of her etched features. “We’re looking at a mild concussion and bruised ribs. He’s lucky that nothing is broken. He must be in really good shape. Built like a tank that fella of yours is.” Any other man would have been in far worse shape.

Bonnie is too taken aback by the diagnosis to correct the woman’s assumption about her and Michael. In fact, she nearly misses the correlation as she is ushered into the room.

“He’s a real charmer. Your Officer Long is.” The nurse adds casting a wink in her direction.

Officer Long? God. It still felt anomalous to hear that in a sentence even with their extensive history together. She knew about his past. She was there the day Wilton brought Michael under his care. Until today, it had been years since that name fell upon Bonnie’s ears. Now, all of the sudden, she couldn’t seem to escape the shadow of the vastly unused moniker.

“Tried to flirt his way out of X-rays and everything.” The nurse actively points out. Her amusement with the fact is fairly obvious.

A perfectly manicured brow raises as Bonnie seats herself beside the man she knows under a very different name. “He really is. Isn’t he?” She fondly agrees. That had always been a part of the problem between them. Hadn’t it? His natural charisma instantly endeared him to almost every woman on the planet. She vividly recollects that he had tactfully employed it on more than one occasion to get what he wanted. He was kind enough to polish his act every time he attempted to use it on her.

Until the moment Bonnie cast her eyes upon Michael, it hadn’t struck her how intensely homesick she’d been for his familiar presence. Her heart gives off a series of palpable pangs against her ribcage as if it was sending Mores Code. Rescue was not bound to happen. No one could heed an unspoken SOSes. Could they? Despite her efforts to reign the unruly muscle in, it kept barreling ahead like an out-of-control freight train down the tracks.

Why was it that only Michael could arouse such chaos inside of her even when she had striven so desperately to move on? She tried to replace him with Dr. Halston and many other guys. Yet, nothing could fill that awful void that Michael left behind.

In that moment, with his large frame half swallowed by the hospital bed, she uncovers a dangerous revelation. She still loved him. As loathe to admit it as she is, those deeply-rooted feelings exist. They dwell in the undismissable realms of shadows where buried emotions and feelings are destined to remain.

Bonnie’s trembling hand gingerly brushes a dark-chestnut curl from the expanse of his warm forehead. The fluffy texture under the worn-pads of her fingers causes a familiar ache to awaken inside of her. “Michael, sweetheart....” She coos the term of endearment with a gentle insistence. She dare not startle him awake after the hell he’s obviously been put through with his injuries.

Her own lips bend into a shaky smile. “I’ve come to take you home.” His home? Her home? The Foundation? It didn’t really matter so long as he was back with people who loved and would protect him. As long as he was safe, Bonnie would never issue a complaint.

#avictimofthejazz #tw: long post #tw: long replies #you do not have to match the length #90% of this was Bonnie setting the stage #bonnie barstow #Michael knight #Bonnie Barstow x Michael Knight #Michael knight x Bonnie Barstow #this probably needs like five more years of editing cause of my strong meds but I am choosing to release it after spending all day on it

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billiejeanisnotyourlover · 4 years

Text

GREEN — OBX

PAIRING: John B. Routledge x Fem!Reader

REQUEST: “Hey! I was wondering if you could do a John B x reader where the reader is Topper’s ex girlfriend and is now dating John B and maybe a jealous John B at a party or something 🥺🥺🥺 thank you so so much!!!” by Anonymous.

WARNINGS: Mentions of drug and alcohol usage by minors, I think that’s it actually.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: first request! i apologize if this is bad, i literally haven’t written anything in years, so this is quite the throwback. the beginning kind of drags but it gets better (i think) as it goes on. hope you all enjoy!

Okay, listen. It wasn’t like you were planning on going full-Pogue over the summer. No, you hadn’t been mischievously scheming your conversion to the “dark side” at all; you just broke up with your Kook-y boyfriend and started hanging around the local lowlifes a little more than you thought you would.

I mean, between the hours they spent at The Wreck—where, by the way, you’d been working for a good six or so months now after your parents basically told you that you couldn’t leech off of their money anymore—and the number of times you’ve bumped into them on your way home, hanging out with them turned into something a little more inevitable than avoidable.

It started out small, with little conversations that weren’t entirely based on the Kook vs Pogue rivalry that the group of teens were so set on keeping alive.

Kiara, your boss’ daughter, had been the first to show you even an ounce of kindness; another unruly customer had dumped their water all over you (whether or not it was on purpose depended on who you asked about the incident), and she had been the one to take you to the back, let you release some frustration, and then gave you a new shirt to wear.

After that, it had been Pope. While you were serving him and the two other boys one night, he mentioned something about school and scholarships, to which you opened up an entire conversation with him about, seeing your siblings had all gone through the interview process, so you knew a trick or two. You could tell he regarded you a little more kindly after that.

The next to break was John B, the cute, wavy-haired brunet boy. He’d been the easiest to break, even if not the first. While Kiara and Pope still treaded water, John B dove in head-first. You weren’t even sure why; one day, he’d been giving you a side-eye, and the next, he was inviting you around town with them.

Of course, the final Pogue left was JJ. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a total troublemaker. He didn’t take very kindly to you at all; sometimes you could hear him arguing with his friends about how they were associating with a Kook, even if you hardly qualified anymore. Sure, your parents were rich and you wore nice clothes, but all the people in Kooklandia were dull. Shallow. Boring. You wanted depth—and the Pogues could give you that.

Even now, months later, you could tell JJ was still sketched out about you, but you learned to ignore it as time went on, and every once in a while, he would extend an olive branch—with the olive branch being a blunt or a beer, most days.

Though, in all honesty, the hardest part of it all had been Thomas. Topper, as everyone else knew him. The two of you grew up together, practically joined at the hip since diapers, though there was a period of a few years in middle school and freshman year of high school that he would barely give you the time of day.

Maybe that was why you agreed so quickly when he asked you out one day. Maybe that was why the two of you started dating, because he finally was giving you the attention you craved.

Okay, wait, that sounded shallow. You weren’t shallow. You were just... lonely. Missing the human connection. Something like that. Being with Topper filled those holes in your heart and made you happier and happier as each day passed.

Until it didn’t anymore.

You remembered breaking up with him like it was yesterday, even if it had been at least three months ago now.

He yelled at you. You yelled at him. He blamed your new friends. You blamed his ego. It went on and on until, eventually, you just walked away. Told him not to call. Told him not to come by your house. You two could talk about it later, when you weren’t at each other’s throats, but it was still over. You and Topper were over.

Then, the next day, you joined the Pogues on their handy little boat and went off into the marsh. There were drinks and blunts and jokes and laughter. Then the process basically repeated the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day...

...and now, it was July. You and the Pogues were as thick as thieves (quite literally, in JJ’s case). You did everything together, and you finally found the friendships you’d been craving for so long. The friendships that engaged you, that kept you happy, that made you feel unconditional love. You felt like everything was finally complete for you.

And then you fell. Hard.

John B had always been nice to you. So incredibly nice. He let you in on Pogue things. He made sure you were happy. He always made you smile, and with all of that added together, it really wasn’t surprising when you realized that maybe, just maybe, you liked John B as more than just a friend.

Turns out, he felt the same, and only a few weeks prior just as summer break started, he kissed you.

Yes, John B kissed you. And you kissed him back.

Since then, you two were inseparable, always spending your days together and most of your nights, although you still had a family and had to go home eventually. Those nights, though, you stayed up for hours on the phone with him. Literally. Sleep never came to you until three or four in the morning then, and you’d get up at a whopping nine to meet him back at the chateau that very day.

Of course, the hurricane that blew in ruined it all. The island was a mess and the power was out, meaning there was no signal and you were forced to spend your nights at home in solitude.

That’s what last night had been like, but hours had passed and you met up with John B and the Pogues not too long ago, your group of friends and yourself now at the boneyard for an infamous OBX kegger.

“Hey! Watch this!” comes JJ’s voice from a few yards away. The blond boy had situated himself on a tree branch, and once he was certain he had his friend’s attention, he leaned back. He was holding himself up by his legs, now dangling haphazardly above the ground as he... tilted his beer can back and started drinking?

The liquid was going everywhere. All over his chin, dripping to the sand, and covering his face because he kept missing his own mouth.

You, of course, have to laugh. “Does he not realize that’s not going to work?” you ask, looking at the boy whose arm was wrapped lazily around your waist.

John B glances down at you with an crooked grin. The sight makes you mirror the expression. “He’ll realize eventually. After he chokes, probably.”

Sure enough, JJ starts coughing, the beer having gone down the wrong pipe as he struggles to sit up and correct himself.

You laugh even more, sipping from your own beer can and simply enjoying the amusing show. JJ kept coughing, and you and John B kept laughing, joined in by Kiara’s questioning of what the hell were you thinking would happen? and Pope agreeing with her entirely.

A squeeze on your hip draws your attention back up to John B, whose hand has situated itself on the exposed skin above the waistline of your shorts. His gaze meets yours, shining with a happy sparkle that only makes you smile.

“Yeah?” you ask.

“Come walk with me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The two of your begin to walk away from the crowd, the cheers and laughter and chatter of conversation fading away just the slightest—until a voice calls out your name.

“Y/N!” It’s all too familiar, and slowly, you turn around in John B’s arms to face Topper.

Topper. What was he doing here?

“Topper?” you call back, furrowing your brows before a small pit of anger bubbles in your stomach. You don’t show to outwardly, though, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

He jogs up in the sand to meet you, now standing just a few feet away. In his hand in a can of beer, but by the way he crushes it, you know it’s empty. You’re surprised he doesn’t toss it behind him and leave it.

“Still slumming around with these guys, huh?” questions Topper. You roll your eyes, and he smirks knowingly. “When are you coming back to the real world, princess? This little fantasy of yours can’t last forever.”

Next to you, John B bristles. “Shut up, dude,” he demands, a shadow now crossing over his face. You’ve only ever seen him upset maybe once or twice, so this was new even for you. “Do you have to come over here and harass us?”

Topper laughs. “You think I want to be anywhere near you, John B?” he scoffs, his gaze flickering to you. “I’m just coming here to remind Y/N what she’s doing. We still have to talk, anyway. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. But that was three months ago, Topper,” you remind him, and he stiffens for a moment. “We—” you gesture between you and him. “—are through.”

The blond Kook just scoffs quietly again. He doesn’t have a response right away, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t digging for one. Eventually, he sighs, “Whatever. You’ll come to your senses eventually and realize that life just isn’t as sweet when you’re hanging around with a few dirty Pogues.” He pauses. “Give me a call when you’re ready for that talk.”

Then, he walks away. The confrontation is short and not at all sweet, but it’s still enough to keep John B quiet even after a few minutes pass. The two of you continue down the beach together, but his arm is at his side and he refuses to even look at you.

You know what it’s about. It’s about the same thing he’s expressed to you time and time again. Why would you leave a Kook for him? Money, a good life... for someone from the Cut? He couldn’t fathom it.

“Hey,” you say gently, stepping in front of him. You’d been in silence for too long. “Look at me, John B.”

He does, and you sigh. His eyes are full and his face crestfallen.

“Just ignore Topper, okay?” you ask. “He thinks he’s some hot rod. He’s not.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” John B replies. “Like—like he thinks he still has some claim over you. Doesn’t he realize he doesn’t? That—that you two are over?”

“He will. With time,” you promise. He’s still tense, though, and for a moment, his eyes flicker over to where Topper is now with the rest of his Kook friends. “John B.”

He looks at you again.

“You,” a finger is pressed to his chest, “are the only one for me.”

“I don’t—”

“No, don’t question it.” You shake your head, then smile as you stand on your toes and wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re the only one for me, John B. I don’t care about Topper.”

At that, he cracks a small smile, and for you, that’s enough. But you still press a little kiss to the corner of his lips.

“Besides, green isn’t your color,” you tease then.

“I’m not... I’m not wearing green?” he states, but the sentence comes out more like a question than anything, and you can’t help but laugh. He’s confused for a moment longer before it processes with him.

He was green with envy, and it wasn’t cool on him. He scoffs, a gateway to a little laugh.

“Okay, that’s it,” he decides, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up with no warning. You squeal, and he lugs you towards the water. “I’ve had enough of your bullying!”

Your laughter drowns out the rest of the party, and you can’t help but feel beyond elated that finally, you’d found your place. Even if your boyfriend is a little green.

#john b routledge imagine #john b imagine #john b routledge #john b #outer banks imagine #outer banks #obx #outer banks netflix

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arch-venus25 · 3 years

Text

The Head and the Heart, Part 3

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1….You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online– or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly–I created the title art–LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go…

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies– or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair– you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 4200

Part Three: Delmar Hospitality

Antha slowly raised her hands in surrender. It was the best she could do in this unforeseeable situation. Beads of sweat rolled down her chest and back. The searing chill sobered her instantly. “We—we—” She found her mouth desert-dry and unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Well, are you trespassing or are you lost?” The silken voice demanded.

“We’re—we’re lost.” Antha panted. A light tumble sounded in the wooded brush as Tessa’s mouth fell open with a gasp, only her teeth could be seen. She fainted.

“Oh.” The voice sighed. Before Antha understood what was happening long cool fingers wrapped around her wrist and brought her up to stand. “Here.” Those same fingers handed her the gun. She violently shook, her nails impulsively tapping against the metal of the barrel.

The clouds shifted intermittently, splashing eerie washes of light across the blackness. Long, ethereal white arms appeared out of the dark as the stranger pushed up his sleeves. These bodiless limbs wrapped about Tessa. Am I watching Fantasia? Antha thought—it didn’t even occur to her that she was now armed and could defend them, though she was hardly capable in her muddled state. She stepped back to see him lift her unconscious sister.

The moonlight poured over something akin to a roman statue come-to-life, with a long column neck and limbs. It frightened Antha to see this otherworldly man peer down from his full height—his great silver-colored eyes burning amidst the night. Despite logic, she had the distinct feeling that he could see more of her than she could of him. “I presume you’ve spoken to the police?” He asked calmly.

She patted her legs instinctually and realized her sundress had no pockets. Somewhere far, far away her cellphone was nestled in her messenger bag, in the back of Tessa’s car. She shook her head ‘no’ as she was still at a loss for words. “Well, come along then,” replied the stranger. His accent was clean; obviously he wasn’t born of this slower-lower side of the world but seemingly mimicked their colloquialisms.

Like a white knight he led Antha from darkness and into a comfortably lit yard in the middle of the woods. The well-kept grass stretched in front of them toward a darling little house. There were candle lights in every dormer window, a white-slatted porch with rocking chairs and a sign that said “No Vacancy” to greet them. The stranger turned, “Welcome to Hollow House,” he stated neutrally, not exactly instilling hospitality. Antha clutched the gun in her arms, scanning her surroundings when she could manage to tear her eyes from him.

Tessa looked like a beloved ragdoll, her long braids swinging peacefully with every step. The stranger held her tenderly as if an appendage of himself, her head cradled to his chest. Why couldn’t I have fainted? Why am I always the one to sort everything out? Antha thought. He carried her with ease up the porch steps and hesitated. He hovered over Tessa’s face for a moment as if he was going to plant a magical kiss that would awaken her from slumber. Then he turned to Antha, brows knitting together for a brief moment.

“You’re twins.” He chuckled to himself as if something about that was charming. “Would you please?” He motioned to the screen door. She stood frozen in place as if the simple instruction was too much to fathom. “Antha,” he crooned, “when I take you inside, I will lay your sister down, get you cleaned up, and then we will call the authorities. I will help you sort everything out in no time.”

Thick waves of auburn hair tucked behind his ears and one errant curl falling in his eye line drew her in. His excellent hair aside, he seemed normal enough. Given the monsters she encountered thus far, the normalcy of the house and this stranger were beyond comforting. Additionally, the fact that he held Tessa to his chest made him simply irresistible to deny.

She shook as she reached for the screen door and held it for him, then he swooped Tessa over the threshold into a lovely foyer. A lean spindle-legged table held brochures for Hollow House Bed and Breakfast. The simple cottage layout and plate of cookies at the door all confirmed for her that she was in fact standing in a bed and breakfast. She followed slowly and watched as he laid her sister down in the Hibiscus Room, right off the foyer and overlooking the back patio. The peach tapestries, brick fireplace, and mahogany wooden furniture framed Tessa, making her nothing short of a sleeping beauty with her mane cascading across the crisp pillows.

Antha paced backward as he turned to her, leaving the guest room door cracked open. “I assure you she is fine. How about we set this down?” He carefully approached her to take the gun but she clenched it as if she suddenly couldn’t imagine parting with it.

She didn’t like how he filled up the foyer, frame blocking the dim ceiling light the way an oak tree does the sun. “I’m very sorry about how I approached you before. I heard you two stomping through my woods—and you alarmed me.” He said coolly, not an ounce of excitement in his eyes or face, not even a flush in his cheeks. “Tell me what happened.” When he asked she strangely felt beholden to him. She couldn’t help feeling that he was reading her mind—she knew that was a stupid thought—but something about the way those big eyes held her in place.

“There was a fight, and, and Tessa ran and so I chased after her—we fell and you found us.” She spilled all of the highlights as if she were reading a teleprompter. The prying feeling lessened when he broke eye contact.

“I see. Well, please come sit down, allow me to help.” His voice dripping like honey down the back of a spoon. He went to the small dining room off the foyer, pulled out a chair and politely beckoned her to sit. She wagered the risk for a moment but ultimately leaned the gun against the table—within reach—when she accepted the offered seat.

Feeling naked without the weapon, she held herself as he explained he would bring water. He did everything he said he would and within seconds she found herself staring bewildered into a glass of tap water. Antha felt more at ease when he finally removed the gun from the table and promised to put it away. The kitchen was right off the dining room and she listened as he retreated to the phone, setting the gun down. “…two young women—yes, here at Hollow House. Yes, this is Mr. Smith… Mmm-hmm… No one is harmed. Yes, of course, I understand. Thank you.”

Antha heard the click of the landline phone being holstered and thought about how long it had been since she had heard such a noise. Since her grandmother’s house she supposed. Her eyes continued their investigation as she waited. Trying to remind herself that she was just on-guard from the hellish night Tessa had put her through.

The cottage was fine, everything in place. A fruit bowl on display, frills on every corner, the carpet vacuumed. He did everything he said he would, she reminded herself again as she sat on her shaking hands. She was fine. They would wait for the police. They would be fine, she convinced herself.

He returned to the table with a plate and towel in hand. The plate was placed in front of her and then he bent with a damp cloth and pressed it to her forehead. For a moment Antha found herself quite overwhelmed, quaking in her seat, the adrenaline threatening to keep her on the run until her heart gave out.

“I believe your story checks out Miss Antha,” he said humorously, “the police said that there was an awful scuffle at the bar out by the road. Once they’re done cleaning that up, they will come to get you two.”

“Mr. Smith, how did you know my name?” She asked, just over-hearing his from the phone call.

“I could hear you calling to each other.” He explained. “You two created quite the ruckus out there.” He was leaning closer than Antha would have preferred. She never recalled Tessa calling out for her. She also didn’t think she told him about the bar either—stop being stupid Antha, the police told him about the bar, obviously, she chastised herself, her paranoia getting the better of her.

After pulling the twigs from her braids, wiping the dirt from her forehead and neck he bent to one knee to clean her hands. She sipped her water and stared down at him. His hair was a bit longer than how most men would wear it now, wing-tipped behind his ears and lending to the romance of an Edwardian fashion. The long bridge of his nose and well-placed lips made him truly worth staring at, like the classical paintings in her textbooks. When he wrapped the cloth over one of her palms his nostrils flared. “That’s a nasty scrape.”

Antha didn’t realize she was bleeding from when she caught herself on the pavement of the parking lot. Before he sat, she observed his dark button-down shirt partially tucked into slacks; his musculature was not consistent with his occupation. This guy works out for serving cookies and delivering extra pillows, she thought and continued sipping her water. Those great nocturnal eyes never left her, even as he reached toward a bowl on the table, his eyes stayed with her.

“Here, you must be starved,” he showed his hand to reveal a whole pomegranate. Before she could deny the fruit he tore it open between his large hands. The leathery skin shredded apart as the sanguine juice dotted his pale fingers, the table, and the plate in front of her. Antha could hear herself swallow as the little massacre happened right before her eyes. “Eat, Persephone, and never be released from my palace.” He laughed.

“I know that myth,” she forced a scoff despite how anxious she felt. She was compelled to be still, attempting to plan her next moves. She wasn’t sure if she was still out of fear or if he was willing her to sit. There was this scratching at the back of her mind again, like a dog at the backdoor, relentlessly trying to get into her subconscious.

“I had a feeling you would.” He replied knowingly. He leant into his palm on the table, as if fearing she would be too far from him. His offering seemed forced as if he had just read a beginner’s manual of cordiality. Nothing felt organic or friendly. Everything is fine, was what she thought, but something in her gut told her, but not safe. As if an ocean could not quench her thirst Antha finished the water and jolted upward from her seat.

“I need more water,” she stated blatantly and made her way to the kitchen before he could offer. She felt she could breathe for a moment without those curious gray orbs on her. The kitchen was outdated, but appeared older due to the orange cast of the overhead fan light ticking away, struggling to cool the space. She clutched the sink as if it was her last anchor to the earth. Her eyes kept shooting upward to the dark window in front of her. All she could see was her reflection and the open doorway to the dining room behind her; she was trying to watch her back, making sure nothing suddenly moved.

While the tap poured foggy water into her glass her eye caught a picture on the counter with a little old white-haired man and woman, their wrinkles holding their sunglasses in place, with Rehoboth Beach in the backdrop. “When are the cops coming?” She called weakly, trying to appear conversational and unsuspecting.

“Realistically tomorrow morning, not long from now.” His voice carried. He was still at the dining table. Good, stay there, she thought.

“Oh, we couldn’t trouble you for that long!” Her voice broke against her will, unsure why panic was suddenly rendering her immobile, holding white-knuckled to the sink. Why was there an empty room for Tessa? The sign said ‘no vacancy’.

Staring at the picture, she saw it said The Smiths 2016. The water was streaming over her hand, overflowing from the already full cup. Her eyes found the reflection of the gun leant up against the ancient landline phone on the wall in the window; it wasn’t the phone itself that made the blood drain from her face, it was the severed phone line dangling from the receiver like a noose. Her heart plunged into her stomach as she pieced together the clues—they were in very real danger.

“I insist you stay,” the rich-timbered-inflection was too close, and cold breath trickled down the back of Antha’s neck. There was no reflection of the man behind her in the window, all she could see was the terror on her face.

Glass shards and water exploded against the sink as her hand lost her cup. Her feet left the ground as she found herself turned, and lifted to the counter, her back against the cabinetry. “There’s no possible way we can stay—you see—I, I have misplaced my wallet!” She stammered, attempting to rationalize the situation.

“I’m positive we can agree on an alternate arrangement.” He wedged himself between her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the counter, his nails growing and sinking into her lower back like meat hooks. She had never seen someone so malevolent and beautiful in equal measure as he loomed over her mouth.

“—Please, I must take my sister home—” she begged, not knowing what was to come. “I can’t leave her—we have to go home!” Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to pull away from the stranger, but found herself latched to him with nowhere to run. His hands held strong as his lips reached the shell of her ear.

“I wouldn’t dream of separating a pair—she will follow you shortly.” He promised. “Stay.” He told her as if commanding her soul. She found herself unable to fight, her muscles waning as if under a spell. The cold of his cheek dragged across hers as he pulled back to look over her face, his feral irises dilating, impersonal and hungry. His grin displayed a mouth-full of pearly teeth as he sunk to the floor and splayed open Antha’s legs. He hummed gluttonously when he kissed the inside of her knee. His canine teeth grew outward, revealing pristine fangs the closer he drew to her apex. This isn’t real—what is he doing? Her mind raced, her fingers searching blindly on the counter for aid. He threw one of her legs over his shoulder and Antha mustered the last of her will to kick him in the face before she could find out.

She launched herself from the counter clumsily as the stranger recoiled, her muscles waking up from their enchantment. After snapping his broken nose back into place, he caught a second wind and lunged for her neck. Instinctively, her wrapped hand shoved the stray piece of glass from her broken water cup into the corner of his mouth. He leant against the counter, retracted his fangs and smiled through it, as if he had been pleasantly surprised.

She snatched the gun as she darted to a nearby door in the kitchen. Her hands frantically locking the door and then searching for a light. Rickety wooden stairs bowed under her feet as she followed carefully forward, her gun-hand sliding down a railing and the other on its mission for a light switch. She could hear him groan as he pulled forth the glass and the blood spilled to the linoleum floor. “Antha, darling,” that same penetrating voice hummed above her as he gathered his bearings, “stay and fight me off—I do so enjoy this.” She could hear him gagging and spitting—she could only hope the glass shard spliced his gums.

Finally, as if her prayers had been answered, her hand found what it had been seeking. She flipped the light switch on to find one lone dangling bulb above her. For the third time of evening, Antha’s feet left the earth and she toppled over a pile of laundry at the base of the stairs. She saw nothing to defend her, no place to hide. When she scooted back from the heap, she saw fuzzy white tufts. To her horror she recognized old Mr. Smith crumpled atop other bodies, their throats and wrists torn out, blood pooling across the floor.

Antha covered her mouth to stop from screaming. Her tear ducts working hysterically as she distanced herself from the carnage. How did I end up here? This can’t be happening! The cautious twin thought to herself, why me? The rattle of the door knob broke through her shock as the perpetrator tried to gain access to the basement. The foundation shook as he began ramming himself into the basement door—BAM—BAM—BAM—the door and frame failing under his inhuman force, the wood splintering and the drywall crackling.

Searching again for anything to save her, as if she was swarmed in answers that her brain could not comprehend in its panic—Antha finally noticed a cellar door. Rushing to it, she undid the inside latch and pushed upward to get out. She could hear the basement door explode, the skittle-like bounce of nails and screws as it finally gave way under his might. Throwing the door back down she jammed the handle with a nearby shim.

Scrambling through the backyard she hid behind a tree, knowing that it was only a temporary delay for him. The stranger was much too keen for her to outrun she guessed, she definitely couldn’t fight him—perhaps hiding would give her a moment to develop an escape path back to Tessa, an element of surprise—or anything—against him. Antha’s pulse hammering, the vein in her neck thick like an anaconda as the adrenaline coursed through her. She cocked the gun blindly, praying she did it right—worst case scenario she was going to go out swinging the damn thing. How will I get to Tessa?

Antha pressed her back into the large tree, her gun readied. Trickles of blood ran hot down her legs from his vicious claw marks. She tried to control her breath, but his fury found the cellar doors faster than she wanted. The slamming began again until one of the cellar door’s peaked upward, his elbow bending it as if mere tinfoil. Seconds later the door flew into the yard, mangled.

“I imagined Tessa to be the runner!” He laughed as he emerged from the ground, taking his time. “Antha, come back to me.” His voice fell into a low growl as he scanned the yard. Her hands shook with resentful readiness.

Then there was silence, abrupt and oppressive. Her ears strained but could not hear his panther like steps. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, hoping it would aid her hearing—but she was met with complete nothingness. She couldn’t hold her breath any longer, and the faint hiss of her exhale trumpeted amongst the stifling stillness. It must have given her away as the lean, wiry fingers found her throat and ripped her up from the ground like a dandelion.

She shoved the gun tip to his chest, ready to take out his heart. But to her unfathomable dread, the gun failed her. The dead click of an ammo less shotgun became nothing more than a toy prop in her dire moment. She did what she could to wield it like a bat, but was unsuccessful as he caught it and crushed it in his other hand. Suffocating in his grip she tried to break free.

“You’re insufferable,” he sneered, his mouth growing its tissue back and reconstructing the damage he endured moments prior. “Did you think I would leave it loaded?” His bright steely eyes scouring over her struggling frame. “As enjoyable as this was, our time is unfortunately over. I will make you a promise.” He pulled in closer, “I will take my time with Tessa.”

Without cue a wet, meaty sound cut through the woods. The stranger gasped, full of horror and rage as he reached to his chest. A fire iron pierced through from his back. His eyes, nose, ears, and mouth began to bleed. Antha pushed out of his grasp when he lurched forward to the ground. She was on the brink of unconsciousness as she wheezed for breath. She found Tessa was the great impaler. “I’m—not done with—you foolish girls…” He hissed like a deflating tire, his immortal sinews collapsing like a bowl of spaghetti dumped onto the lawn.

Tessa skirted the rapid decay and pulled Antha into her arms. Stock-still they watched. They bared witness as he writhed, his porcelain skin dripped with taffy-like stretch and slid off his bones. He melted into a puddle, with nothing recognizable left except lumps of clothing and two silver eyes. Tessa reached toward the eyes, but her sister stopped her.

All that could be heard was their panting and the fizzle of a creature dissolved. They looked to each other, wordless and beyond repair. After a moment or two they drug themselves around the side of the house and toward the driveway. Hearts still punching against their ribcages, the girls numbly followed the long-wooded drive.

When they finally made it to the main road they found the next street lamp was another mile off. All that could be heard was the rustle of the surrounding crops. They followed the road back toward the light of civilization. Antha couldn’t shake the horror of the Smith’s being slaughtered by that thing. She shivered again, feeling the stranger’s eyes on her. She tried to push the thought down. It’s dead, she thought.

After sometime Tessa began to speak, “I woke up and saw a little old lady on the side of the bed. Her neck was covered in strawberry jam,” she paused strangely, “but I knew it wasn’t jam Ant.” She whined.

“I know, I know.” Antha stopped to soothe her. Tessa buried her head into her sister’s neck and they held strong for barely a moment before weeping. Antha had never been so relieved to have her sister. She couldn’t believe Tessa was the one to save them. From now on she would abandon her role as the babysitter. All of her safe-keeping and methodical avoidance of danger had failed them both. It was Tessa’s wild heart that saved them.

“I couldn’t believe you kicked him in the face.”

“You saw that?”

“I almost lost my shit—hey, what was he doing down there?” Tessa finally asked.

“The femoral artery is—well and when you factor in gravity—” Antha’s analytical side kicked in but then quickly dissipated from the stress. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” She finally sighed, unable to comprehend the fact that she was almost drained by her crotch. Both of them smirked but within a breath were crying again.

“I’m so tired.” Tessa grumbled and then called for Zoey three times, wishing she would appear to take them home.

“Doug… Doug… Doug…” Antha whispered to herself.

Just as they thought the night would never end and their blood-stained clothes would never dry, they heard the familiar wheeze of Doug’s old Buick.

After a deluge of crying, embracing, and the erratic retelling of the whole evening, the twins found themselves buckled in the backseat on their way to the emergency room. Tessa finally sighed when Doug stopped looking at them in his rear-view mirror. He must have mumbled to himself “…vampires?” at least a dozen times as he drove. She sidled into Antha, holding her hand with an iron-clad grip and closed her eyes. Antha couldn’t relax. Her nerves were beyond frayed and she grew uncomfortable under the weight of her sister’s weary head. Something blunt was stabbing into her backside and she shifted in her seat.

The bright lights of the emergency room entrance burned the teary-eyed passengers. Doug pulled up and jumped out of his car, opening the door for them. “What the hell is in this car—you got rocks back here?” Antha sassed him about cleaning his Buick as she dug out the troublesome object in her seat. Tessa did the same, unbuckling herself and wriggled in discomfort.

“I just vacuumed, like last year,” he defended, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. In the commotion of the two digging around and shuffling old coke-a-cola bottles and vintage DVDs, they suddenly ceased. A strange silence fell between them. “What is going on back here?” He stared anxiously at them.

Each twin opened a hand to find one silvery, gleaming eye.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you! I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @myraiswack @wolfpawn @plastic-heart @confusednerd09

#landlord vampire fic frenzy #twinning vs vamps #arch-venus25 writes

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mystic-shadows42 · 4 years

Text

The Wolf and Sheep

Pairing: Ubbe x reader (series)

Warnings: Language and Violence

You felt Ubbe’s hand brush your hair back. He was always so gentle and soft when it came to you. That’s one of the reasons why you loved him.

You opened your eyes to see him already looking at you. He smiled making your heart flutter.

“What are you doing?”

“Admiring you.”

You huffed out a laugh. Your appearance in the morning was nowhere near worth admiring. It was still sweet of him to say.

“How did I get so lucky with you?”

“The gods wanted us to be together. You’re stuck with me now.” He said as he flashed his smile at you.

You laid your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

“Are you still going hunting today?”

Ubbe brushed his fingers through your hair as he looked up at the ceiling.

“Heard rumors there’s some sort of animal going through towns destroying everything. A catch like that is worth something.”

“Is it? What if you get hurt? I can’t begin to comprehend that.”

“The only reason why I’d risk it is for you. For your safety. Then once we catch this beast, think of all the stories we can tell our children. It’ll be a tradition. We’ll be old sitting around the fire watching as our family grows their own thinking we made such a thing happen.”

“That’s a pretty picture.” you hummed along with him. You looked up from his chest and captured his lips with yours while he was caught off guard.

He reciprocated the kiss molding his lips onto yours.

“When you come back we’ll have to work on creating our family.”

He smiled as you gave him a knowing look. You traced your finger on his chest loving how it sent shivers down his body at your touch.

Ubbe brought your hand up to his lips as he kissed it.

“There’s nothing more I want than to have a family with the woman I love. I’d be proud to father your children. I always dreamt of having a family and settling down. Now that’s all going to finally happen. Thanks to you.”

“You weren’t hard to lock down.”

Ubbe chuckled at your words. It was no secret that he had gotten around before but as soon as he locked eyes with you for the very first time he knew he was done for. He was done with his previous lifestyle.

You had him wrapped around your finger and he knew it too.

You patted his chest and started to gather his belongings that’ll he’ll need for his hunt.

“Do you have everything you need?”

Ubbe had a tendency to forget to take a lot of things when he goes hunting.

“Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be home sooner than you think.”

“You’re not going alone right?”

“I’m going with my brothers and others who volunteered. Otherwise, it’d just be Hvitserk, Sigurd, and Ivar. Who knows what they’d do without me there?”

“You’re right. Always the peacemaker.”

You kissed his lips briefly. “Be safe.”

“Always.”

You were about to go outside when Ubbe pulled you back.

“Do I get a kiss?”

You pecked his lips.

“For protection.” You said as he stood there with his arms crossed waiting on you to attend to him.

Kiss.

“May the gods watch over you.”

Kiss.

“May you have luck on your journey.”

Kiss.

“May you come back to me.”

Kiss.

Ubbe cupped your face in his hands. “I’ll always come back to you. If we can’t find it before sundown then we’ll head back. It’s not worth it if we risk it all.”

“I thought you said it was, earlier?”

“If there’s a chance then yeah, but if its something that ends my life and keeps me from you, then no. Killing this thing is a bonus. You are the prize, my love. One I’d like to come back to.”

“Such a sweet talker.”

Ubbe kissed your lips synchronizing his mouth with yours. His lips were soft and his hands on your face were rough but gentle at the same time.

Ubbe was reluctant to let you go. He made this kiss last longer than the others.

When he finally pulled away he watched your reaction. He always enjoyed watching as your eyes were closed and your lips plump after he kisses you.

When you opened your eyes you couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze. He just had that effect on you. Every time.

“You better be off. Be safe my love.”

“Always.”

After Ubbe left you prayed to the gods that he and the others would return safe and that the beast would be brought down.

It brought you some peace of mind. Although, your mind never seemed to ease whenever Ubbe would leave. Even for simple trips. He would constantly plague your thoughts.

If wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t getting dark already. You stared at Ubbe’s now cold food as you continued waiting. Everybody was indoors early since the stories of a beast had begun circling around Kattegat.

A sudden commotion brought a few on comers outside to investigate. You opened the door and saw people gathered in one area. You followed them to see what was happening.

A man stumbled onto the floor disheveled with blood all over his clothes.

You got closer and noticed he had gone with the hunting party that left earlier.

“There... was a beast,” he said out of breath.

“Where’s everybody else?”

He shook his head rapidly.

“We have to go out there for potential survivors.” A person spoke up.

“No way! I’m not going out there again.”

“Out of the way! Move! Get back!”

All the commotion brought more attention to the people wanting to know what was going on. There were a few more people coming from the woods headed in.

You tried to get a look to see what was happening but the crowd kept you in place increasing your frustration.

People in the crowd began to turn towards you and parted a path. It confused you but you made your way through nonetheless.

“Oh my,” you covered your hand over your mouth at the sight of Ubbe. He was covered in blood which seemed to be endless.

You didn’t know where it started and where it ended because there was so much blood. He was practically drenched in it.

The healer cut off his shirt and exposed his skin what was left of his skin. The crowd from behind clamored at the sight.

Some had to look away. It was a bloody mess. You didn’t know how Ubbe was still alive after such an attack. But yet he was still breathing. Faintly.

There were substantial gashes on his body. Where there was hardly any skin left.

“What animal could’ve done this?” You asked the healer.

“I don’t know but from the looks of it, it had to be of an incredible size to do this to a grown man.” The healer looked at you with remorseful eyes. “It’s best you say your goodbyes. He probably won’t make it through the night.”

You couldn’t fathom the possibility of losing Ubbe. It seemed unreal. Everything was fine this morning and now he was going to die.

Tears fell down your face blurring your sight of him. You wiped them away quickly and continued to stare at him.

This was the love of your life. No words could possibly do him justice for what he brought into your life.

You wanted to hold him but you were afraid to. Any wrong move on your part could possibly cause him pain or to bleed out even more.

“I love you, Ubbe. I love you so much. You’ve brought me more joy than you can imagine. Thank you, so much. Rest now.”

You kissed his forehead and brushed his hair back.

Tagged: @belovedcherry @lordsexmachine @lol-haha-joke @mariaenchanted

#Ubbe x reader #Ubbe Imagine #Ubbe Ragnarsson #Ubbe Lothbrok #Ubbe fanfiction #Vikings #Vikings fanfiction

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winifredsandersonsbitch · 4 years

Text

Everybody Needs a Hobby

Spike x Summers! Reader

Warnings: some colorful language, implied smut, S5 spoilers mentioned

Description: You’re frustrated with the crude reality of life in Sunnydale. You want something you can love that won’t go up in flames. One night, you pick up a poetry book from the library and Spike stops by to give you a vivid reading.

You need something to take you out of the violence of your everyday life.

You try painting. Relaxing watercolors aided by books you pick up at the library, bright acrylics splashed across canvases. Soon your room is filled with artwork that ranges from clumsy to talented. You start giving paintings away to make space. Birthday presents for your friends, surprises for elderly neighbors, just-because gifts for Spike to make his crypt more colorful (he laughs at them, hurts your feelings a little, but the next time you’re in his bed you see them peeking out from behind a curtain). It works, for awhile, but you crave something less solitary. Plus your artwork takes a darker turn when you wake up from nightmares, which is frequently.

You turn to yoga classes at the YMCA. Twisting your body into poses is a different kind of hell after a night out with Buffy, but the stretches take so much of your focus that they force you to stop overthinking. Then your instructor turns out to be a former genie with a sinister agenda and you have to drop the class. It was getting expensive anyway.

You join a intermural volleyball team, but after a gruesome loss one of your teammates takes up the dark arts. You start baking and almost burn the house down. Even community service gets dangerous when the blood bank is ambushed by vampires.

“I’m just so frustrated,” you explain to Dawn one morning at breakfast. “I mean, I love all of these things and I want them to work out, but Sunnydale poisons everything. It’s like I can’t even have a hobby on the Hellmouth.”

She peels a banana with manicured fingers. You dropped her and her friend off at the salon last week and now it’s like every motion has to be fit for a hand commercial. “Fighting vampires is a hobby.”

“No, it’s a full-time job,” Buffy says, swiping an apple off the counter. “And (Y/n) already has two of those.”

“Well, there you go.” Dawn shrugs on her backpack. “You don’t need a hobby.”

You do, though. Spike insists on supplementing your income with his, so you’ve cut down your hours at the office and you’re only taking weekends at the diner. For the first time in years, you have time to relax. You don’t want to waste it.

Buffy spots the sour look on your face and nudges your arm. She drops the core in the trash and washes her hands under the sink.

“Maybe it’s time to go back to school,” Buffy suggests. “I know it’s the middle of the semester, but you could apply for next year.”

You don’t want to make her feel bad, especially since she’s in the same situation as you, but school doesn’t feel urgent when you’ve got the apocalypse going on every other year. Plus you don’t even know what you’d major in. There’s no degree for monster fighting.

“Yeah, maybe.” You finish your yogurt, check the time on your watch. “Come on, Dawn, I’ll drive you to school.”

After you drop her off, you head into the office. It’s slow today. The coffee machine gurgles to life every thirty minutes to keep the employees awake and the copier sits silent in disuse. Barbara and Anne giggle together in the annex over a tin of buttered cookies. The phone rings at the reception desk only twice in the morning. When you answer, no one’s there.

You spend most of the day looking up courses that you might be interested in. There are a few that catch your eye, but you can’t fathom how you’d put them together into a degree.

One of them, creative writing, jumps out at you. You used to write when you were in your early teens. Mostly angstsy poetry about how no one understood you and how invisible you felt. It’s embarrassing to look back on now, but then it had felt like a statement to the world.

Writing made you feel known. You gave it up when you went to college, mostly because it seemed impossible that it would ever amount to anything and partly because you didn’t have the time or energy to focus on it. College seems silly now, all that effort for a paper degree when you know what’s really out there, but if you went back you wouldn’t be going just for the degree. You’d be going because you love to learn.

It’s not so important that you get published and famous anymore. You don’t need the spotlight when you’ve already got the most important job in the world: taking care of your sisters. It’s fine to work in the office and at the diner where you’re nothing more to people than another employee. You know you’re making a difference, even if they never will.

But your heart aches a little for what you might��ve had if life hadn’t gotten in the way.

That night, you stop by the library to pick up some books. Just to see if you still have a passion for them the way you used to. Sunnydale’s library is open until ten p.m. and you stay curled up in an armchair in the fiction section until close. You check out four books to take with you: a poetry anthology, Little Women, a collection of short stories from around the world, and a YA novel. You figure that if you try all different genres, maybe you’ll land on something you love.

Your walk back to the house is uneventful, thankfully (having just renewed your library card, you don’t want to have it revoked if something sinister takes a bite out of your books). You have a late night snack with Dawn since Buffy is still out hunting and then take your books up to your room.

You leave the window open so you won’t have to get up if Spike drops by and curl up in bed with the anthology, a notebook on your bedside table in case of inspiration. You’re not totally sure when he comes in; it feels like hours and seconds since you opened the book. The words are swirling around in the soft light of the room, bouncing off the bed frame and the dresser, colliding with your closet door and knocking the paintings askew in their frames.

“Shouldn’t leave your window open like that, love. Something wicked might find its way in.”

His shirt is off already, you register, as he peels the book from your fingers and kisses you deeply. You make a noise of protest against his mouth and he pulls back, eyebrows raised.

“What the hell book is that, to have you so absorbed you don’t even notice me come in?” He picks it up, dangles it in front of you. “Can’t be porn. Because, obviously, what you’ve got in front of you is better than porn. You Summers. All repressed and self-righteous. If it’s the bloody Bible or The Guide to Enlightenment or some—”

“Don’t make fun of me, William,” you retort, snatching it out of his grasp. “It’s a good book.”

“Must be,” he scoffs. Then he reads the cover. His features flicker through three different emotions in the span of five seconds. “Poetry?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not— Here, give me that.”

Grudgingly, you hand it over, and he settles in between your legs, his head resting on your breasts. He picks out the filthiest, most sexual poem he can find (which is still incredibly tame by his usual standards) and recites:

“‘I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap, I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me. I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress, so no one has to guess what’s underneath. I want to walk down the street—’”

His voice is low, soft, like he’s switched into someone else in the moments between his choosing the poem and his reading it. It makes you shiver. His hand slides up your thigh, at odds with his careful, thoughtful voice.

“‘I want to walk like I’m the only woman on earth and I can have my pick. I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm your worst fears about me—’” At this, he shifts position, moves the underwear beneath your pajama shorts aside and slides a finger up. You bite your lip. “‘—To show how little I care about you or anything except what I want.’ I like that one, what about you? ‘Confirm your worst fears?’ ‘How little I care about you or anything except what I want?’ Sound like someone you know?”

You hardly realize he’s switched from the poem to conversation until he pauses his ministrations beneath the bedsheet. He’s angled toward you now, one hand twisted under the sheets and his back against your inner thigh, a toothy grin on his face as he repays you for earlier.

“You’re such an ass.”

He ignores this instead of cutting in with his typical I’m evil, duh speech, nuzzles your neck. “I’d like to get you into a dress like that, love. Have you walk down the street in it, showing off—” He sucks at the skin, hard. You cry out. “But then we have to have a way of letting everyone know you’re mine, don’t we?”

“Spike.” His name comes out a moan, a quiet prayer.

“You want another poem? I’m liking this book.”

He returns to his regularly upright seated position, pretends to adjust his reading glasses, then flips through the pages, leaving you wanting. He lands on a sonnet, airing the words out to the open room as you squirm. Finally, you decide to take matters into your own hands, but he stops you, bursting into a new stanza.

“Here in the electric dusk your naked lover tips the glass high and the ice cubes fall against her teeth...”

He replaces your fingers with his own, guiding you through the poem with a small circles. When you beg, he undresses for you, sets the book down.

“You’re just an erotic hallucination,” he breathes, touching everything as if to make sure that the line isn’t true.

He’s teasing, but a part of him clings to these words in a sad, sweet way. When he’s finished and you’re spent, he rolls over onto the other side of the mattress and his mood shifts again.

“I loved a girl once,” he says, and it stings, even though he talked about Dru often when you first started up and even before, like he wished to hurt you into wanting him. “I wrote her this poem. I used to write a lot, before. I was hopeless that way.”

His voice isn’t soft now. It’s almost angry, like he has been during sex at some points. Passionate and raw and mad at someone that wasn’t you. Flickering back and forth between past and present.

“You probably would’ve liked William,” Spike says. He barks a strangled laugh. “He was just your type. A scrawny mama’s boy who lived through his books.”

He was almost gentle earlier. You can’t understand why he switches like this, between acting like he can’t go on without you and twisting the knife. You roll onto your side.

“Might’ve been, once,” you murmur. This pillow talk is almost worse than the nights when he leaves right after to get his fix, claiming you’ve made him hungry. “Boys like that wouldn’t look twice at me now.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, love.”

You can hear the smile in his voice though. He likes that your self-esteem is low. It feeds his ego, that he can hurt you even though he can’t drain you dry. He’s soulless, after all. On some level, he probably does need you like he says, but it’s not pure. It never will be. He can try to help you when it suits him, restrain himself from severing ties because he craves closeness, but he’s still Spike.

“They’re scared of me now.” Your arms cross under your breasts. You’re not self-flagellating tonight, not really. You’re in the mood for the truth. “They know.”

“Know what?”

“They know, on some level—” It sounds silly, only it isn’t, not to you. “—what I’ve done. And no amount of watercolors or yoga classes is going to change that.”

You didn’t realize it until you said it out loud, how much you were trying to be the girl you were before your mother’s death. How much you missed her and the almost casual slayage that was common before Glory. Sure, the world almost ended a couple times, but you knew how it would turn out in your heart. This— with Buffy, with Dawn— you have no idea.

You lapse into silence, purposefully even your breathing out so it seems you’ve fallen asleep. He gets up not long after, rustles around your room for a moment in a way that makes you nervous, and then pulls the window shut behind him as he exits onto the roof. You fall asleep at some point, drifting in and out of a dream featuring you at the office in a nightmare distortion of your boss’s birthday party until your alarm goes off.

You sit up and smack the button off, sending a piece of paper cascading to the floor. It isn’t until after you’ve brushed your teeth and fully woken up that you retrieve it. It takes you a full thirty seconds to process the first line of the pretentious and somewhat offensive poem Spike left you.

It’s disgusting. It’s explicit. It’s replete with words that you have to look up.

You love it.

When you go down to breakfast, Dawn cracks jokes about the dazed smile on your face until Buffy shushes her and sends her off to finish getting ready for school.

“Seriously, are you okay though?” she asks when the two of you are left to yourselves. You could ask her the same question, with the already scabbing gash on her forehead, but you settle for a quick shake of the head. You feel like you’re burning up, like she can see through you to all the things you did last night.

“No— I mean, I didn’t sleep well.” You pour yourself a cup of juice and take a seat at the table, trying to suffocate your grin. “But I think I found my new hobby.”

#fanfiction #spike x reader #spike #btvs season 5 #btvs #btvs x reader #buffy the vampire slayer

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astrologysvt · 4 years

Text

SVT as Boyfriends - Vernon

Happy Birthday Nonie~ 🎉 You confuse me constantly and that makes me want to baby you 💛

anonymous asked: im not sure if u do these kinds of posts so feel free to ignore if u don’t but can i request vernon as a bf according to his chart? i love ur blog! 💗

this reading is more geared towards their habits in relationships and romance! i did end up talking a little about intimacy. i’m not putting any kind of nsfw warning because this is extremely pg and it’s honestly a gigantic stretch to even categorize it as that. but if that’s something you’re incredibly averse to i wanted to be sure to say it here so you can skip this reading if that’s the case~ also, i ended up using “you” generally because writing “s/o” was getting tiring.

so his chart really strongly indicates that he’s very independent and thrives when he’s allowed to be a free spirit.

but there’s also a part of him that is deeply committed through that cap venus.

super reliable boyfriend, and that’s also in due part to his scorpio moon.

he would drop absolutely everything if you needed him.

he is super super protective and will absolutely throw hands if someone were to say anything negative about you.

even with a moon trine mars that makes him slow to anger, his principals are so strong through his aqua placements, scorpio moon, and cap venus that he would absolutely not stand for it.

this would be one of the few times he could justify resorting to anger, and while he may not attempt to hunt the offender down, you will definitely notice a dramatic change in demeanor as he rarely ever lets this side show.

and then when you take that sense of being protective and pair it with his cap influence, he really likes taking care of you.

he’s very competent in that regard, and he shows this in practical ways like getting you lunch, giving advice, maybe offering to help with work. things like that.

this also makes him very receptive for when you return the favor! like when woozi prepared a meal for him that one time when they were overseas, you could see how touched he was by the gesture and the thoughtfulness behind it.

he’s also very emotionally intuitive thanks to that scorpio moon and pisces mars.

he’s super observant and would get really really good at reading you over time.

may not express his support in so many words thanks to his moon square mercury making him pretty awkward with it -- this placement makes it hard for his aqua moon to convey how feeling/intuitive he is -- but he will certainly let you know he is there if you need him.

i also find scorpio placements don’t really put their feelings in so many words.

even with an emphasis on intellect with an aqua sun and mercury, he’s bound to not be the quickest to shower you in verbal love/appreciation and is more willing to let his actions speak for himself.

if he’s going to say anything, it’s going to be sincere and straight to the point.

and what’s interesting is that he’s got this scorpio moon, so i can imagine him actually being a pretty possessive boyfriend regardless of how chill he is normally.

BUT I DO WANNA MAKE IT CLEAR that that doesn’t necessarily mean he’d be a restrictive boyfriend either.

especially with those cap/scorpio/aqua influences that would really respect someone who was their own person and didn’t apologize for that. tbh i think the last thing he’d wanna do is restrict that.

i think well developed scorpio placements honestly just like having proof that you are committed and most certainly their s/o.

would probably say things like “that’s my ____” just to assert this fact very casually, affectionately, even playfully.

really honestly just likes knowing and being reminded that you’re his, may it be through gestures or physical proof (you wearing his clothes, promise rings, you going out of your way to do something for him, hickeys.)

his moon sextile venus makes him very romantic and affectionate.

he feels a lot of love and is very emotionally invested in his partner in this very protective scorpio manner, and thanks to its relationship to venus he goes about expressing this love in very practical yet classy ways.

he has a tendency to randomly do the most thoughtful romantic gestures.

he does have this free spirit that’s pretty easily distracted so it may not be the most obvious or well planned gestures.

but it’d be things like. if he’s out and sees something that reminds him of you he’ll bring it home, may it be flowers or your favorite food.

it’s interesting because, as out-there as he is himself, he really craves a sense of predictability in relationships.

this cap brings a sense of tradition and loves the idea of stable, long-term relationships.

he’d bring a strong sense of reliability and practicality to relationships.

he’s very dedicated but simultaneously very levelheaded and realistic with you.

scorpio moon can give him a bit of a jealous streak.

but i’ll say it again: that may not be as bad as it sounds if his emotional control is good. which IT IS thanks to his moon trine mars.

his moon trine mars means these feelings never result to actual anger or action. he’ll let you know his comfort levels, but it’s highly unlikely he’d act out negatively due to feelings of jealousy.

he may just get a little extra handsy, affectionate, or may ask for reassurance!

tho i do think it’s interesting to note he may not normally be the most physically affectionate guy.

he has such airy placements that he isn’t going to subconsciously reach out without noticing if that makes sense.

if he’s reaching out himself, it’s probably very intentional and more than likely with the intention to show support or as little random “i love yous” throughout the day.

as i said before, he’s rather awkward with putting these things into words so body language may be a huge factor in communicating with him in relationships which makes him pretty purposeful with it as well.

this kinda loops back in to how much of a lone wolf he is sometimes -- not that he doesn’t like affection, it’s just not in his instinctual wiring as he’s pretty solitary in that brain of his.

his well aspected moon and pisces mars, however, makes it very easy for him to accept affection and makes him pretty physical expressive.

he may need space every now again, but will probably very easily let you know when that is (may it be verbally or through body language) and is open to however cuddly you wanna be the rest of the time.

his pisces mars makes him a very sensitive and emotional boyfriend, especially in relationship to intimacy.

i think it’s important to mention because he has this very airy, independent, almost detached attitude about him on the surface.

you really do get the sense that he’s on another planet, or that he could potentially be OVERLY practical, logical, and not easily perturbed by emotion -- but that is absolutely not the case behind closed doors.

lol okay maybe he’s still on another planet, but he isn’t removed/indifferent. rather he’s very attentive and sincere.

this is where he kind of loses his sense of practicality and can be pretty all-giving and obsessive.

pisces influence on the part of mars means he takes physical relationships very seriously and sees it as a non-verbal expression of love and intention.

he also has a very subtle, gentle, traditional way of approaching intimacy.

it’s genuinely an experience sharing that part of himself with someone, and it’d be in those moments that you would truly understand the full extent of his feelings.

not only that, but he’s very emotionally sensitive in this regard.

allowing someone in to that degree can actually be a very daunting experience for him.

not necessarily if it were a merely physical relationship without the romantic/intimate association, but knowing that there is is this devotion involved makes the concept of allowing someone to see and understand the depth of this side to him a really hard thing to wrap his head around.

this is heightened by that cap venus that doesn’t take to commitment lightly.

with a pisces influence there is kind of a switch they have with regard to emotionally packed situations -- they’re either detached out of risk of those feelings becoming all-consuming, or extremely feeling and potentially open to this all-consuming aspect and to them that is an extremely vulnerable feeling especially with another person involved.

and so for him to go into those romantic situations and decide to be open and sensitive, that can be a really overwhelming thing especially with so many placements that value individuality and composure.

ESPECIALLY with a scorpio moon which is already an incredibly intense placement to have, there’s a great deal of investment that’s kind of hard for him to face head-on and this is honestly because he can hardly fathom these depths himself.

and then you throw in this super airy influence through his aqua and this intensity within him may fly completely under the radar until he’s forced to face it.

it IS important to note that his moon trine mars both kind of heighten the intensity of these situations, while also giving him better tools to process them.

his scorpio moon also means that he’s really fascinated with these feelings even though they’re very daunting.

it can be “scary” but he isn’t particularly deterred if he trusts you because of how all-in scorpio placements can be as they love the concept of delving past the point of no return.

if he’s at that point where he’s so deeply committed, his scorpio is going to give him the confidence to take that step.

but because this part of him is so emotionally sensitive and reactive, he may retreat every now and then.

it is important not to interpret this as indifference/distance, often times he doesn’t know exactly who he wants to be some days and so you kinda gotta be okay with the unexpected.

this is simply because he gets overwhelmed and needs space, otherwise it just feels like he’s staring into the sun non-stop.

but if you learn how to read him, his energies, his body language/rhythm, you’ll understand how big and bleeding his heart is and how he expresses this, even when he’s not 100% there.

lololol all of this sounds SO DRAMATIC.

it’s funny writing this because vernon has such an air forward chart.

I wouldn’t be surprised if, for some WILD reason, he read this reading and thought this was a dramatic description as well.

he really is his own person and i imagine this reading feels super left of field and honestly that’s because it IS.

a lot of his chart is pretty hard to pin-down and generally more focused on developing the self than depending on external forces like relationships, and so it’d take a lot for him to get to this point.

you can tell even now it’s hard to imagine what he’d be like in a relationship he’s so singular, and i imagine even his members know there is a bit of a wall despite how much an open book he is.

i really think that it’d take the right person for him to place such a strong importance on emotion in order to make this reading super relevant to him.

his aqua and cap are pretty hard to convince and are logical/intellectual enough that it’s often hard for those placements to surrender that mental control over to emotion/the intangible.

and so I don’t imagine this is a part of his chart that he would fully be aware of until he’s in an incredibly committed relationship and these placements are tested by being forced to accommodate someone else so intimately.

because otherwise he’s his own unit. these parts aren’t scary to him by himself, but they’re naturally very private so sharing these aspects is what switches things up.

generally he’s a very thoughtful boyfriend!

his weird habits are going to stay intact because of how independent he is and, if his chart is really well developed, he’d never let his individuality be compromised by a relationship.

tho i will not lie, a scorpio moon and pisces mars may put him at risk of losing himself a bit as that scorpio moon has a tendency towards obsession, while that pisces mars can really easily get absorbed and lost in the case of love.

but with that being said, i think his aqua and cap are so established in his chart through his work and personal values that i don’t think he is in any actual danger.

so back to my main point.

he has such a strong understanding of himself and his life/goals through that aqua/cap, but there is so much in his chart that is really eager to bring someone into that.

he’s def the type of guy that makes it hard to fathom how committed he could possibly be on the surface, but once the relationship deepens, it gets clearer and clearer how romantic and devoted he is.

and also how simple and straight forward he actually is about these things, which in a way adds to the romance and earnestness.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #vernon #hansol #hansol vernon chwe #lolol another super randomly long one like joshua's chart first impressions #this one hurt my brain #scheduling this #and praying it's in comprehensible english #also had a heart attack cuz i thought for a second tumblr deleted this

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blazerina · 4 years

Text

Losing (Ethan x MC)

Word Count: 3090

A/N: Last Sunday, I wrote and posted a very random story, Winning, that came to me out of NOWHERE and y’all ate it up! I was so pleasantly surprised by the reactions to this little scene that I didn’t expect to be any good!! It was such a success (and I left it at such a cliffhanger) that part two was basically demanded (I’m not complaining). So this is it - part two…hope it doesn’t disappoint! I am terrified of posting this because I’m just not good at all with “part twos.” Please enjoy and I hope all of you are happy, safe and healthy! Be well. xoxo

Tag List [they didn’t work the first time so I had to re-post]: @parkerattano @queencarb @custaroonie @mkamra2355 @humanpokemon @ramseysno1rookie @unknowntimelady @myusualnerdyself @schnitzelbutterfinger @mvalentine @jasminedayz @thanialis @tefigranger @kenzierookie @justanotherrookie @keepcreativechoices @heauxplesslydevoted @ethandaddyramsey @kaavyaethanramsey @sherlockedmcu @edith-eggs1 @noboundariesplease @edgiestwinter @danysims4cc @tempesreture @unusualvisionsblog @chasingrobbie @mapipa @lifeof-liv @3riche-blog @anonymous2094 @annaidziaszczyk @ntoraplayschoices @jessirosebud @mskinkyafro @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj

The room was spinning. His head was on fire. And pounding. And throbbing. And his neck ached. His shoulders were tense. He felt nauseous. If he was experiencing all of this before so much as sitting up in bed, he could not fathom how actually trying to walk to the bathroom would feel. He didn’t have the ability to even begin to try and piece together the events of the night before. All he could focus on right now was willing his body, which felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, to sit up and get out of bed.

What time is it?

Ethan reached for his phone and groaned. 7:08 am.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then rolled over onto his side and sat up gradually, letting his legs dangle off the bed. Timidly, he exhaled slowly and opened his eyes. It was exactly as he expected. More spinning. More fire. More throbbing.

His throat was incredibly dry, and he needed water, but also something more. He reached over his nightstand and grabbed his glasses, hoping that his vision adjustment would help his aching head. He was wrong.

A glass of water?

Ethan noticed a glass of water and four ibuprofen pills were also on the bedside table.

I even amaze myself sometimes.

He didn’t remember getting a glass of water or medicine, or changing out of his clothes, but then again, he really didn’t remember much of last night at all. He gladly took the medicine and chugged the glass of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he finished.

He stumbled into the bathroom and retched a few times, over the sink, then moved to get his toothbrush. The taste of his own breath was making him queasy. He noticed his reflection in the mirror and almost didn’t even recognize himself. Bloodshot, dry eyes. Pasty skin. He was in desperate need of a shower. His hair was a complete mess, swept to one side of his head and sticking straight up in some parts.

Christ, I look like shit. I feel like shit.

Ethan knew his next step needed to be making breakfast and coffee. It was imperative that he remedy his empty stomach as soon as possible. The early morning sunlight was streaming in through his large glass windows as entered his living room. Shielding his eyes, he quickly padded to the window and closed the drapes. He hardly ever did that, but this morning it was a necessity. He stopped to catch his breath after closing them, hearing his own heartbeat in his ears.

Staggering into the kitchen, he propped himself up on the counter with both hands. His head was hanging low and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way. He was one who took great pride in his ability to hold his liquor. Something must have really thrown him a curveball last night.

As his eyes surveyed the kitchen, mentally taking an inventory of what menu options he had available, he noticed that the coffee pot was blinking, signaling it only needed the button to be pressed; the coffee grounds and water had already been added. A bag of bagels was tightly wrapped and sitting on the counter next to a plate, along with a napkin and knife. His toaster, that he only got out when he had the sole intention of toasting something, was also out.

What the hell?!

He pressed the button on the coffee maker and plopped a cinnamon raisin bagel into the toaster. Opening the fridge, he grabbed some cream cheese, but then leaned against the counter with a heavy sigh. Even that little bit of effort had taken a lot out of him.

God, let this pass soon.

Methodically, Ethan made his coffee and the rest of his bagel and took a seat at his kitchen table. Holding his head in his hands for a few moments before he began to eat, he took another deep breath, whispering a prayer, asking for the food and coffee to work. For it to be enough to quell his headache and nausea. He still had to somehow make it into the office today.

The office today…

Remembering Edenbrook set his mind in motion and all at once a tsunami of memories flooded his brain. Everything from the night before played out once again, clearly. All that he saw. All that he said. All that he did.

He remembered Reggie getting him in the cab, and someone pulling him out…but beyond that it was a little hazy. As he brought his coffee mug to his lips, the front door of his apartment opened, and Ethan almost choked recognizing who it was.

She had earbuds in and had clearly just been on a run. She was intently listening to music or a podcast, Ethan couldn’t be sure. From the entry she couldn’t see him, but he could see her. All of her. In a tight tank top and leggings. Almost exactly the same outfit she wore when she worked out with the boys that random Tuesday morning. He had all but forgotten about the curve of her waist and her amazing ass. As his eyes travelled and marveled at her body, Ethan thought his head was about to explode. He was experiencing mental whiplash remembering last night and then unexpectedly seeing her this morning. He was confused and had no idea what was going on.

Am I dreaming?

Jenner came trotting in behind Allie as she held the door open for the pup. She then hung Jenner’s leash up on the hooks by the door.

Earbuds still prominently fixed to her ears, she told Jenner she was a good girl and turned over her shoulder towards the kitchen when she saw him. He was holding his coffee mug with both hands, mouth agape, totally frozen.

“Jesus!” she called out, clutching her chest, taking a moment to collect herself. She took her earbuds out and placed them on the counter, still breathing a little heavy.

“Sorry…” Ethan choked out, his voice raspy and harsh.

“It’s only right that should be the first word you say to me.”

Ethan sighed.

Of course she has some smart ass remark. This is a great way to start the day.

“Allie, please. I didn’t ask you to do all this for me. I can handle myself.”

“Are we really going to get into it first thing this morning? Is this really what you want to be doing right now? Arguing with me?”

He could tell she was in no mood for pleasantries, so he stopped talking and focused on his coffee and his bagel. It was not lost on him that he was sitting at his table in his underwear and a white t-shirt with crazy bed-head, in front of the love of his life. The woman he was too damn proud to be completely honest with.

Allie remembered her way around Ethan’s kitchen much better than he expected. She poured herself a cup of coffee as he watched her every move. Grabbing a banana from a bowl on the bar, she leaned against it, facing him, making eye contact as she peeled the fruit.

Her intention was not to make it sensual, but Ethan’s mind went there right away. Watching her hands as she unfolded the peel and her lips as she began to eat, he couldn’t remember how bad his head hurt, or feeling ill anymore.

Completely oblivious to Ethan’s thoughts, Allie took a long sip of her coffee, a deep breath and cleared her throat.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

Her voice broke through Ethan’s sudden daydream and the silence hanging heavy over them both.

He looked away from her, noticing that Jenner was eating her own food from her dish. Allie really had thought of everything. She chose to take care of him, even after what he had done.

“I suppose I should thank you. I don’t know everything you did for me, but I suspect it was quite a lot. I appreciate it. And Jenner does too.”

Allie nodded solemnly, taking her banana trash to the kitchen. She grabbed her keys and a phone from the counter and pulled a sweatshirt on over her head.

“Last night...” She started to talk but then cut herself off.

Ethan watched her. He knew she was about to leave. She took another drink of coffee and then rinsed out her cup in the sink.

Why are you doing this, you ignorant buffoon? Say something. Do something.

His fists clenched around the mug he was still holding in both hands. He hadn’t moved much and felt like he couldn’t -- he was paralyzed. Paralyzed with fear about how she regarded him now. Paralyzed with fear that he had now lost her forever.

The familiar ping of her cell phone rang out and almost echoed in the entrance of his apartment home. Allie checked it and smiled a little, looking back to Ethan.

Immediately he felt the anger course through his veins again.

Wonder who that was from. I swear to God if it’s Tobias or that dumb ass scalpel jockey…

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you; you know.” Allie explained, absentmindedly twisting her keychain around her index finger, glancing at the floor.

“To be clear, me taking care of you like this does not mean that I’m not pissed. There is no excuse for what you said to me last night, Ethan, or your behavior in general.”

“Allie…” He began, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“Please let me finish.”

Ethan stopped and watched her shudder. She took a deep breath and it was evident that whatever she was about to say was taking an extreme amount of bravery and courage. She was clearly having to work herself up to spitting out these next words. Ethan was doing what he was used to; putting on his armor, ready to defend himself if necessary, even though he knew he had no right to defend himself this morning. Everything he was feeling was well-deserved. The retaliation he was going to get from her was more than fair.

“When I talked to Reggie last night and asked him to help me get you home, I didn’t know that you’d end up puking on me in the elevator on the way up to your apartment, or that tucking you into bed would mean I get to hear a confession from you about your undying love for me. You acted as if you were on your deathbed, and honestly, it was not cute.

But God help me, Ethan, I just couldn’t bear the thought of you trying to navigate being drunk and hung over all on your own. I thought about you here, all by yourself, stumbling around, struggling to function, and I felt bad. I’m sure you’ve done it before, but something about the look in your eyes last night scared me. I knew I’d never forgive myself if I saw you leave that way and did nothing to help.

For some reason that I cannot for the life of me figure out, I still…after all we’ve been through…care about you.

Dammit! I don’t want to, but I do.”

Ethan gulped, waiting for her to say more, but she didn’t. She was through. Once again paralyzed, he didn’t know what to do or say.

Don’t let her leave. You cannot let her walk out that door.

“Why did you…I mean I didn’t…ugh…” He cleared his throat, feeling flushed.

“I just can’t…” He fumbled and stumbled over his words, struggling to find his voice.

“I have to go and get ready for work. Naveen knows that you’ll be in later today and I asked Diane to move our diagnostics team meeting to this afternoon, in order to allow you enough time to get your shit together. Guess I’ll see you later.”

Ethan watched her open the door to leave, trying to stand but still feeling woozy.

Allie’s head popped back into the doorframe as she mentioned, “Your key is on the kitchen countertop by the way.”

The door closed behind her with a soft thud, as Ethan was still trying to put together something to say. Once again, he questioned himself.

What the hell just happened?

Later on, Ethan text Naveen to let him know that he was on his way into work. Naveen met him at his office with a venti Starbucks coffee in hand.

“The name on the cup says Ethan, but from what I’m hearing today it should say something a little more accurate.” He scolded, handing the cup to Ethan as he entered his own office.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Ethan frowned.

He wasn’t surprised, but still not thrilled to learn that the rumor and gossip mill at Edenbrook had picked his story up as one of the daily headlines.

“Perhaps something like total jerk, or complete asshole, would better describe your actions post-softball game last night?” Naveen raised an eyebrow and kept a stoic look on his face.

“I don’t like hearing about this side of you Ethan. It’s one thing to experience it in private, but another to know it’s been witnessed in public. I don’t have to tell you it’s wrong because you already know that. But I do expect you to make it right. Make it right, Dr. Ramsey.”

With that directive, Dr. Banerji left the room and the glass doors hissed behind him as they closed.

Ethan slumped into his chair like the pile of goo he felt like. He was beat up and broken down, but knew he only had himself to blame.

He had been dreading the afternoon meeting of his diagnostic team, mainly because he knew he had to see her again. He had no idea what to expect from her. He’d been hiding in his office all day, trying to keep people from staring at him as he walked the halls like some sort of sideshow freak.

June and Baz were early to the meeting and much to everyone’s surprise, Dr. Banerji decided “on a whim” to join the team for the day. Everyone was silent while waiting on Dr. Valentine to arrive.

Ethan would have to deal with Naveen later. He knew damn well why he decided “on a whim” to attend the meeting today.

Who does he think he is? This is just what I need right now, to have to worry about him too on top of all this.

Allie walked in just then, not in a dramatic fashion, but a very normal, typical everyday way. No one would know anything was wrong or different from the way she was acting…at least…so far.

“Hi everyone, sorry I’m the last one here. Esme’s had a hard day. Hope you weren’t waiting too long!”

Still thinking about everyone else. I’ll be damned if I’m ever going to be as good of a person as she is.

Much to Ethan’s surprise, the meeting went on like normal too. Naveen contributed to the conversation and they were able to discuss quite a few patients this time, when typically, they only have time to focus on one.

As they wrapped up the meeting, Ethan stood up abruptly.

“There is one more thing I’d like to say before we disperse.”

Allie sat back down, as she had already packed up her things. It seemed as though she wanted to make a quick exit.

“I just wanted to say that I’m grateful for the way this team takes care of each other.” He locked eyes with Allie, refusing to look away.

Eventually, she did.

“We work together well, all striving towards the same goal. Looking out for one another and stepping in to correct each other too when one of us may be going down the wrong path…”

He could tell Baz and June were a little taken aback by his thoughtful speech and were slightly confused.

“I just don’t take it for granted and I wanted to say thank you.”

Ethan looked again at Allie, then sat back down.

“That will be all for today, thank you team.”

As everyone packed up, Allie was a little slower than she had been before. Dr. Banerji made the rounds, shaking hands with all the doctors in the room as they exited.

“Make it right, Ethan.” He reminded as he waved to Allie and left the two of them alone.

Dr. Valentine was headed toward the door again, folders and charts in hand, when Ethan placed a hand on her elbow and gently asked her to stay.

“I’m no good at saying sorry…” Ethan began.

“I know.” Allie agreed, holding the folders and charts close to her chest.

“I need you to hear this, though. Please.” He sighed, not sure how to begin.

“There’s nothing I can do or say to take back what I did to you last night. I’m not even fully aware of all that I did and all that I said…and quite frankly, I’m not sure I want to be.

I’m not going to ask you to forgive me. You explained yourself this morning regarding forgiveness, and I could not agree with you more. I do not deserve the kindness you showed me.

But you…you deserve so much more than anything I can give to you. Last night was proof of that. And honestly, you deserve an apology that’s a hulluva lot better than this one.”

Ethan nodded at her, wanting desperately to reach out for her hand and pull her into him, holding her close. But he knew he couldn’t. Not now. Not after everything he’d done and all the damage he had caused.

“You’re right.” Allie said, swallowing hard. Ethan thought he might have seen a hint of tears in her eyes.

“I do deserve an apology better than this one…but I’ll take what I can get.”

Sadly, she gave him a tight smile and walked out of the room. Ethan watched her go, hoping he had not let her walk out of his life forever.

He knew he’d take what he could get too and what made him sad was that it took him getting angry, drunk and jealous to realize he’d rather have Allie in hard times like these, than to not have her at all.

He had gone from winning a softball game against his rival to losing the only woman he ever truly loved, all within in 24 hours.

#blazerina babbles #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #mc x ethan #i don't know what i'm doing #i hate part twos #this one is so long too #ugh #hi parker #you da best #don't ever forget it #i love ethan #this is sad

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