saevio: (pic#9505708)
ronan lynch ([personal profile] saevio) wrote2015-09-06 11:38 am
Entry tags:

OPEN RP POST



text; pictures; threads; anything goes
psl friendly; previous thread continuation friendly
m/m for shipping; fine with either action or prose
quaerit: sᴄᴏᴜᴛsɪxᴛᴇᴇɴ.ᴄᴏᴍ. (d e p r e s s i v e)

[personal profile] quaerit 2015-12-29 06:07 am (UTC)(link)
[ Gansey couldn't sleep. This was not an unusual occurrence, but generally when it happened, his mind was busy with work. He was obsessing over some new turn his search for Glendower had taken, or he was obsessing over how it had stalled. He was caught up in worry of some sort, or his head was turning around some anxiety that he couldn't shake.

Tonight was different. Or maybe it was more accurate to say lately it had been different, because tonight is not the first time he hasn't been able to get Ronan off his mind. Ever since this started between them, whatever it is, he's been caught. He can't stop thinking about where they've been and where they're going, and it makes rest next to impossible. Especially when he knows that Ronan himself is so very close, only a couple of feet away.

When he can bear it no longer, he pushes his glasses back onto his nose and pads gently along to his best friend's door. He knocks once, twice, and the third time is more of a thud, as his head drops against the wood. His heart is so loud in his ears that he's sure he doesn't need to speak, but he makes himself do it anyway.
]

Ronan. Are you awake? Let me in if you are; I can't sleep at all.
quaerit: sᴄᴏᴜᴛsɪxᴛᴇᴇɴ.ᴄᴏᴍ. (e x h a u s t e d)

[personal profile] quaerit 2016-01-04 05:55 am (UTC)(link)
[ Oh.

Oh, Christ, he hadn't been awake. A rush of guilt floods Gansey's chest. Insomnia is enough of a burden to him that he knows how awful it feels to be woken when you can finally get to sleep. He hadn't wanted to do that; that's dire, and selfish. What had he been thinking?

He'd been thinking about Ronan, obviously. About the shape of him, the feel of him under Gansey's hands, the scratch of his stubble, the rush of adrenaline that came from being manhandled and directed by him. He'd been thinking of all of those things, and now he's acutely aware of the way Ronan's eyelashes graze against his cheeks, the way the haze of sleep sits on him. It is easy, all too easy, to imagine himself pressed against Ronan in this state.

Stop, for Christ's sake. Awkward, he scrubs his hand through his hair and shakes his head.
]

I'm -

Jesus, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I couldn't stop thinking about...

[ This is the least eloquent he has ever been. It's like having an out of body experience. He's simultaneously fucking up, and watching himself fuck up. ]

...about you, honestly. About us. About whether we could -

[ Stop. ]

- no, this isn't the time. I'm sorry, Ronan, really. You should go back to sleep, I shouldn't have disturbed you.
quaerit: sᴄᴏᴜᴛsɪxᴛᴇᴇɴ.ᴄᴏᴍ. (w r i t i n g)

[personal profile] quaerit 2016-01-12 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
[ Sometimes, Gansey's mouth runs away from him. He stops when Ronan flicks his temple, and pauses mid-breath to sigh. Yes, all right. He's rambling. His rambling is reflective of the storm brewing in him, the one that's filled him with enough nervous energy to keep him from sleeping.

He doesn't know why he's nervous. This is Ronan. He doesn't need to be nervous, and he notices also that Ronan is calm. Calm when Gansey isn't, which is an interesting reversal. It almost suits them -

He really needs to stop overthinking all of this.

Becoming suddenly decisive, he strides into the room and follows Ronan to the bed. Despite his energy, his eyes don't leave Ronan's. He tries to form words - the right words, this time. But he's not sure what they are, he's not sure how to frame this emotion into something that's easy to ask.

He pauses for a moment, fingers moving and curling like he's not sure what to do with them. Then he leans forward, ignoring the pace of his heart hammering in his chest, and he presses his lips to Ronan's. This is soft, warm, chaste. Gansey doesn't feel chaste just at the moment, but his lips can pretend at it. When he leans back, he realizes that his hand has found its way to Ronan's neck, and his fingers have splayed against the acute line of his jaw.

He doesn't lean back all that much, and before he can make himself speak, he licks his lips. His eyes flick up to Ronan's.
]

That.

I wanted you. That's all.