#AND HIS WHITE LIES WOULD HAVE SLOWLY GOTTEN BIGGER | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsriddlenott · 5 months

Text

The Sixth Day Of Smutmas

[smutmas masterlist] [main masterlist]

~ Secret Santa ~

bsf!Sirius Black x fem!Reader

Summary: Sirius gets your name for Secret Santa and decides to prank you by having you open a dildo in front of all your friends. However, he’s shocked and flustered when you jokingly say you’re grateful and you’ll need it since your sex life is stale. In private, Sirius tells you he’d like to change that.

Warnings: 18+ Content!! Language, Alcohol, SexToys(not used),Size Kink,Smut, Unprotected PinV, Creampie, Kinda Public Sex.

Your face went hot as you slowly unwrapped the box in front of you and began to realize exactly what it was, you were positive your cheeks were bright red as you removed enough of the wrapping paper for the whole group to see the red and white striped dildo in it’s box.

“Oh….wow,” Your eyes widened as you realized the sheer size of the object, “That’s much bigger than I’m used to.” You joked, thinking about who would possibly get you this as everyone around you laughed. “Okay I don’t know. Who got it for me?”

“Well I did of course.” Sirius pipes up proudly with a snicker, “I saw it and thought of you.” You felt like it should have pissed you off as it was clearly an attempt to embarrass you, but it didn’t. The thought of Sirius, your absolute best friend, thinking of you using the sex toy and wanting to watch you get embarrassed was honestly turning you on. You knew you had to say something that resembled a come back as your friends watched you, suppressing giggles as Sirius’ eyes locked into yours tauntingly from the couch across you.

“Jeez, thank you Siri, I don’t know how you knew I needed one. I may actually use it, I haven’t had sex in months y’know.” You laughed to yourself as your friends joined in, laughing even harder when you saw Sirius’ wide eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulped and leant back on the sofa, spreading his legs and taking up far too much room as his eyes followed you to your room where you tossed the object inside onto your bed.

As the night continued, Sirius found it difficult to take his eyes off of you, if he was being honest he always found himself staring at you, but after your comment about his gift it increased ten fold. His brain filled with images of you alone at night chasing a high you couldn’t reach with some tiny pathetic dildo, he loved the idea of you pleasing yourself on his gift, filling you up more than you ever had been. When you eventually flopped down on the couch beside him, clutching your wine glass in one hand as you tugged your legs up under you, facing him entirely as his arm draped along the back of the couch by your side his fantasies intensified. “You’ve been quiet tonight, what’s up?”

His brain clouded with your scent, filling with thoughts of you below him, whining as he stretched you out further than you could even imagine possible. He was much larger than the dildo he’d gotten you, which was rather average in size despite you seemingly thinking it was pretty large. It hurt him to know that you thought that was big, what asshole lied to you about that?! He found himself angry at the thought of you fake moaning and clenching around some douchebag who knew you needed someone bigger, someone like him, someone who could stretch you out and keep everything insi- “Siri?”

Your soft voice pulled him from his thoughts, forcing him to realize he had been staring at you for at least a minute, “Sorry what?” Your giggle that escapes your lips as you grip his wrist sends his heart rate skyrocketing before you ask again if he was okay.

“Yeah I’m okay, you’re here so of course I am.” He sighed, watching you light up at his words, smiling brightly up to him before you were falling into a yawn. He couldn’t help but smile ridiculously wide at you, your were absolutely adorable in his eyes. He couldn’t fathom how you could be so unbelievably sexy while at the same time squeezing his heart with every little thing you do. “You’re tired, maybe you should get to bed after this glass.” Sirius stated as he gently tapped at the rim of your wine glass teasingly.

“Oh my Gods, remember when me and Lily would sneak into you guys’ dorm for sleepovers?!” You asked excitedly, feeling a little bubbly as you took another sip of your wine, “Maybe we could do something like that for old times sake, I’m sure Remus wouldn’t mind if you guys stayed the night, right Rem?”

“Of course, it’s your place too y’know? You’ve lived here for almost a year, you don’t need to run plans by me” Remus chuckled, barley turning to you as he sat nursing his one and only drink of the night, chatting with Marlene about one of the books he’d just gotten as a gift.

“I’ve been wondering by the way,” Siriys seemed to stall, as if contemplating if he should ask his question before ultimately deciding and continuing, “Why did you choose Remus to be your roommate? After you said you were moving out of your parents’ house I guess I kinda assumed you’d wanna move into my flat like you always used to say.” His eyes avoided yours, watching his fingertips tug at a thread on the couch beside your shoulder as if it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me there,” You stuttered on your words as you tried to form an excuse, “I mean, you never offered so I guess I just thought it was one of those teenage fantasies we had like starting a bike shop that doubled as a tattoo parlor.” You laughed, trying to make light of his statement that you were sure you were reading too much into. Everyone dreams of living with their best friend but you always imagined it differently than he must have been.

While you were imagining romantic mornings and sensual evenings, you figured he was imagining help with the rent or chores, and maybe a few fun nights drinking before you’d both return to your separate bedrooms. Which couldn’t have been further from the truth. In reality, Sirius would imagine how you’d look when you’d wake up or go to bed, what you’d wear on a hot day, how you’d react if he’d come to your room at night and - Sirius shakes his thoughts from his head as he refocused on you, “I would have loved to have you if Moony hadn’t swooped in first.”

You chuckle nervously as you turn to the rest of the group downing the last of your wine before you spoke, “I think I’m gonna call it a night, I’ve had a few too many glasses of wine,” You exaggerate as you move toward your room, searching for an escape from your awkward, inappropriate feelings for your best friend. You quickly changed into your matching Christmas sleep set before falling into your bed, almost immediately slipping into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Only a few hours went by before you were awake again, it was only a little after one when you woke, finding it difficult to go back to bed so deciding instead to turn on your light in order to read a book in the hopes that you’d fall asleep again soon. Not long after you were abruptly interrupted by an urgent knock at your door, jumping from your bed to open it, half expecting Remus to be on the other side injured or in need of something.

“What are you doing here? It’s almost two in the morning.” You laughed in an attempt to suppress your nerves as Sirius leant himself against the frame of your door, his hooded eyes raking up your body, observing how your Christmas sleep shorts and matching tanktop moved as you stepped aside to let him in your bedroom. His cocky smile you loved so much was plastered across his face as he stilled in the center of your room, letting you shut the door before he eyed you and spoke in a deep, gravely voice you weren’t familiar with, “I saw your light was on when I left the bathroom, and I wanted to ask I wanted to ask if you liked your gift?”

Your face flushed as you stuttered over your words, chuckling awkwardly and avoiding his questioning eyes, “It was funny yeah.” You tried, though he didn’t seem pleased with that response, stepping closer to you and quickly invading your personal space while eyeing you hungrily, “Y’know if it’s not enough I could always….help.”

You couldn’t speak, you tried to force your brain to spill every single thought it ever had about the man in front of you but it just wouldn’t. You stood still, eyes darting between his and his lips as his breath frantically fanned across your face before you shoved yourself forward, slamming your lips into his. Sirius immediately melted into you, as though you were made to be slotted against each other, his hands dancing across your back as your lips melded with his. Your hands tangled themselves between his raven locks, tugging as he shoved you against the door behind you. He was gaining his confidence that you loved so much back, his hand trailing up your waist to the side of your neck to pull you in closer. “Fuck, please tell me I can fuck you, I can’t wait Baby any more. We can talk about my feelings for you after but please please let me.”

He sighed against your neck, silently begging you to say yes as he licked up and down your neck, occasionally nipping at the flesh teasingly. “Yes, fuck yes please.” Sirius immediately tugged at your thighs, lifting you up and helping you wrap your legs around his waist as he walked you both towards your bed. He lightly set you down, maintaining eye contact as he crawled toward you, eyeing you like you were his prey.

“Are you sure Baby? You can say no, I promise I won’t be upset.” Instead of answering you launched yourself forward, tugging him down to you and between your legs as you wrapped yourself around him. You bucked your hips up against him, egging him on as he hastily unfastened his belt, still leaving his lips on yours absolutely unable to disconnect from your touch. He aggressively tugged your shorts and underwear aside as he shoved his pants down, freeing himself to spring up against his abdomen.

You separated from his lips in a gasp as you watched him bounce up and down beside your thigh, “You- you’re really big.” He chuckled down to you, kissing your forehead softly before he spoke in a gentle voice you weren’t use to.

“Don’t worry Sweetheart, I’ll go slow.” He whispered as he slowly began to push himself inside of you, forcing a gasp from you as he stretched you out. You whined in pain and pleasure, screwing your eyes shut as he bottomed out inside of you with a groan and whispered moan of your name. After a minute to let you adjust to him, he pushed himself up holding his weight up by a hand beside you head, the other supporting your hip as he set a steady pace, slowly pushing in and out of you as your wetness coated him and began to slip past you onto your bed.

Your whines became moans as he sped up slightly inside of you, still slowly thrusting into you, pressing against your g-spot each time, “Look at me.” Sirius demanded as his thrusts sped up, snapping into you until your eyes fluttered opened, “Good girl.” His voice sent chills down your spine as he returned to his previous pace, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as his tip massaged your softest spot.

The agonizingly slow thrusts against your tight walls was driving him crazy, his balls tightening quickly as they hit softly against your perfectly sculpted ass, “It’s been a while Baby, I might cum soon…mmph fuck…can…can I fuck my cum into you please…please I want to come inside.” You whimpered at his words, clenching around him desperately as you begged him to.

“Yes Gods yes please, I want you to mark my body Sirius, no one else ever has.” He groaned down to you, leaning in to capture your lips in his, picking his pace up to a perfect middle ground as you both panted against the others mouth, riding the edge of both your highs as he trailed his hand down your torso to toy with your clit. Sirius stuttered inside you, feeling the wetness on his fingers as he quickly played with the swollen bud of nerves, desperately holding back his release to cum in synch with you.

Sirius drew figure eights with his fingertips, loving the gasps from your mouth as he praised you, “You sound so beautiful, do you wanna cum for me Princess? I can’t cum until you do. Don’t you want me to cum Baby?” His words matched with two hard, quick thrusts sent you over the edge with a squeal as you clenched around his cock, finally allowing him to release inside you, painting your walls with his thick cum as he moaned your name loudly, surely alerting your friends that were once sleeping in the living room. Sirius remained still inside of you, keeping his cum buried deep until it squeezed it’s way around his shaft and onto your sheets, mixing with the growing puddle of your arousal as you both tried to catch your breath.

~~~~

Event Taglist

@timmytime17 @talia-scar123 @spencer-reids-wife @ttsbaby01 @animorose @whydoireadanymore @thievin-stealing @spiderman-stilinski @evycloudberry @shady-the-simp @ashisabitgay @porterport @callsignwidow @cicicicicisstuff @mattheoriddleswifee @junebugin-july @moonlightreader649 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @rubyliquor @perverteddsdreams @mildly-delulu @fairydimples07 @shadowmoonlight0604 @80scinemvasworld @nevillescomslut @annaisabookworm @abaker74 @athenalikethegoddess @limeren @h-------n @kezibear @mattheoriddlemarcuslopez @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @curiousshifter101 @tobyr68 @spididerman @hedwigprewett12 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kiwi475 @stellasdelusions

676 notes · View notes

omegaxlore · 7 months

Text

바람 - 한정훈

word count: 4050 trigger / content warning : near-death , suffocation

Junghoon was four-years-old when he figured out he could manipulate the wind. At first he tried by force, using exaggerated hand motions or even swinging his arms around, and it didn’t work. Junghoon felt defeated but he knew he had control over it. Of course his parents thought his imagination was just as colorful and full of life as it could be for a toddler. The first day of kindergarten is when he figured out how to manipulate the wind. One of the kids in his class, Sujin, pushed him off one of the jungle gym sets he was playing on. The winds picked up as Junghoon angrily stood up and pushed the boy back. Sujin fell to the ground and the winds were blowing hard, dust had even gotten into his eyes. Sujin of course cried wolf and both boys were sent to the principal's office.

Despite Junghoon’s scraped knees and elbows, he was punished for pushing back. He was given a strict lesson about having to be the bigger person and not to fight back because violence is never the answer. Junghoon found it unfair. While he had to sit in the principal’s office doing busy work for the rest of the school day, Sujin got a light slap on the wrist and a reminder to play nice before going back to class.

As Junghoon sat in the principal’s office, thinking about his ‘bad decision’ the wind outside picked up rapidly. Dust and leave wildly whipped around. Junghoon hadn’t even noticed until the principal said something. Junghoon lifted his head, bad mood disappearing. Just as his bad mood was disappearing the wind outside died down. The principal shrugged and went back to work. But Junghoon was not fascinated with his discovery. He thought about how he was pushed off and punished for it. His anger grew and the wind began to pick up, this time the large trees swayed with uncertainty that they would stay rooted. Junghoon then started to think about his dog waiting for him at home and he became happy and the wind came to a still.

That was it. Negative emotions. He just needed to learn to control his emotions and how it affects the winds. He could tame what now was his. He had a mission, and he had a target.

Junghoon sits in his backyard. A light warm breeze brushes by every so often without Junghoon willing it to. The shade of the tree keeps him cool on the warm spring day. Junghoon holds a book, barely having just started the book, but eyes freeze over a word. A name.

Sujin.

Junghoon hasn’t thought about him since that day. He has done his best to repress the memory. He didn’t mean for anything that bad to happen. He had lost control of his ability.

White clouds slowly begin to cover the sunny sky.

The memory choppily plays over in Junghoon’s mind but he tries to force the memory back. It was an accident. Nothing was suppose to go that far.

Sujin was never suppose to scream. Junghoon didn’t mean to scare him. He didn’t mean to chase Sujin down. Sujin wasn’t suppose to run. Junghoon’s emotions had gotten the best of him. Sujin was never suppose to be in the road. He wasn’t suppose to get hit. He wasn’t suppose to fall into a coma.

The doctors’ said he was lucky that the impact of the car and hitting the asphalt didn’t kill him, but it was enough to take away his ability to walk normally. What they didn’t know was that Junghoon had somehow used his ability to catch Sujin before he hit the ground and gently let him down. It had taken a lot of his energy too.

Junghoon lied that day. Told his parents, Sujin’s parents, police, and doctors that they were playing too close to the road and Sujin got hit. It killed something inside of him. The guilt ate at him so bad the wind had picked up so much everyone though a tornado was going to happen.

Sujin woke up a couple days later with no memory of what happened. Junghoon made it his goal to befriend Sujin to ease and help his conscience to live with what he had done. The two became inseparable best friends until Sujin moved away to the States a couple years later.

“Junghoon!” His mother calls. Junghoon looks up from his book. The sky is covered in dark gray clouds that look like it will rain, but Junghoon knows they won’t. He doesn’t have the ability to cause rain.

Junghoon’s mother waves him inside. Junghoon stands and feels a tear run down his cheek. He quickly wipes it away and closes his book without bookmarking his page. He quickly crosses the yard.

Junghoon closes the door behind him when he walks in. He places the book back on his family bookshelf. He turns to find his father walking in the door from work. The two head to the dinner table to eat. Junghoon’s mother places the last dish on the table before sitting down.

“Those rain clouds came out of nowhere. It didn’t say it would rain this week,” Junghoon’s father states.

“It won’t,” Junghoon answers before shoveling more food into his mouth. His mother’s cooking was always his favorite. He’d be too embarrassed to admit it’s a reason why he hasn’t moved out of his parent’s home yet.

The three eat in silence.

“How many days have you worked this week?” His father asks. Junghoon mentally rolls his eyes, he knew this was coming.

“None,” Junghoon answers. His mother sighs.

“Why can’t you just find a better job?” His father questions, slightly irritated, “we understand you love to work in a coffee shop and you’ve been creating new recipes, but working only a handful days out of the month isn’t good enough, Junghoon.”

“Why can’t I just do something that makes me happy?” Junghoon retorts and immediately regrets it. He knows what can of worms he just opened.

“We want you to be hap-” His mother gets cut off.

“We want you to be successful. To live on your own one day,” Junghoon’s father interrupts.

“I’m trying my best. I’m applying. Trying to find things I want to do and it’s not easy. They want all these requirements and qualifications,” Junghoon counters.

“Well try harder!” His father raises his voice.

“I’m sorry!” Junghoon yells back, “I never seem to be good enough to your standards. I keep trying and trying and when I succeed it’s not good enough and I need to move on to the next thing!” Junghoon rages, his heartbeat rising. The winds outside blow crazy. He stares his parents down waiting for a response.

Instead his mother breaks out in a coughing fit, gasping for air. His father coughs a couple of times and reaches for his throat.

Junghoon's mother grabs her shirt, coughing and trying to gasp for air. His father barely makes a sound but is squirming in his seat.

“You can’t guilt me like I’m killing you,” Junghoon shakes with rage. Then his mother falls out of her chair onto the floor, and his dad’s face begins to turn blue. He falls to the floor immediately. His father’s eyes rolling back into his head, and he now tries to breathe through his mouth.

Junghoon begins to panic and he rushes to his parents' side.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening,” Junghoon panics, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t touch them, afraid he’ll hurt them. “Please stop!” He yells and suddenly both gasp for air and breathe heavily. Junghoon’s eyes are filled with tears.

Junghoon moves closer to his mother and helps her sit up as she inhales deeply and exhales short.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Junghoon asks.

“I… I don’t know,” his mother answers slowly, “It felt like… suddenly couldn’t breathe… I was trying.” Junghoon takes a deep breath. He couldn’t have done this right? His ability was just the wind, not oxygen.

“It felt like,” his father coughs, “oxygen just disappeared.” Junghoon helps his mother into her seat and then his father.

“You guys should rest for the night,” Junghoon suggests. His parents both agree and he helps both of them to their bed.

“I’ll check on your guys throughout the night, just in case,” Junghoon tells them.

“Good boy,” his mother smiles towards him, “we’ll be okay.” His mother grabs Junghoon’s hand and squeezes it. Junghoon sadly smiles at her.

Junghoon leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Suddenly couldn’t breathe? No oxygen? Could he have done it? Why did nothing affect him? He was drinking water just like his parents and eating the same food. In the same house, same room.

Junghoon looks over his shoulder at the door and decides to leave. He exits out the house and runs. Just run. Don’t stop. The wind flows with him, making him think he was moving faster.

The wind stops, and Junghoon could feel the burning in his legs. He bends over, resting his hand on his knees and breathing hard. He looks up and spots a bench. He takes a seat.

Junghoon leans forward and covers his face with his hands and cries.

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it,” He whispers, “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“No, you didn’t…and I’m so sorry,” a voice tells him. Junghoon freezes. He slowly raises his head from his hands. The whole area is covered in fog. It’s hard to see even a foot in front of him.

“Who said that?” Junghoon asks, catching his breath.

The fog suddenly clears and that’s when he sees them.

They raise their head and remove the hood from their hair. They look at Junghoon and softly smile. Junghoon stares back at them.

“Hi, Junghoon,” they greet, “I’m Poaegi.”

Poaegi takes a few steps closer to Junghoon and sits on their knees, their butt resting against the heels of their feet.

“I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” Poaegi cuts him off, “you didn’t mean it. Just like the other time… you didn’t ask for these abilities.”

“Who are you? Really?” Junghoon asks.

“Really, I am Poaegi. That is my name,” Poaegi repeats, “I can help, but only if you want. I am aware of your abilities Han Junghoon. The ability to manipulate the wind and oxygen.”

Junghoon freezes.

“Are you like me?” Junghoon questions.

“Sort of. I share some of you abilities, but I cannot do everything you do,” Poaegi explains.

“Then how are you able to help me? You can’t do everything I can,” Junghoon counters.

Poaegi smiles, “I cleared the fog with ease, didn’t I? You don’t even know how you caused it. You root your abilities from negative emotions. I know how to control and hone that.” Poaegi stands up. “I am also aware of your other abilities.”

“Other abilities?” Junghoon asks, his stomach drops. No, he didn’t want more.

“Yup! You have more than what you know,” Poaegi smiles, “I know all about them. How to control them? Entirely not sure, but I know the basics.”

“You really aren’t selling yourself, you know,” Junghoon retorts. Poaegi shrugs.

“It’s better than nothing.” They had a point. It was better than nothing.

“So you can teach me how to control my abilities?” Junghoon inquires. Poaegi hands Junghoon a letter and a small card. Poaegi +82 XX XXXX YYYY .

“Think about it,” Poaegi tells him, “for now go home. Be with your parents. Sleep on the idea. It’s a big step you have to take.”

A small cluster of fog appears over Junghoon’s head as he stares at the card.

“Hey,” Poaegi calls for his attention. Junghoon raises his head. Poaegi blows air at the cluster of fog and it disappears. Junghoon just stares at them, somehow feeling a little lighter than he has all day.

“Go home Han Junghoon,” Poaegi smiles. They pull the hood back over their head and disappear into the fog. Suddenly the fog disappears and Poaegi is nowhere to be seen. Junghoon looks down at the card one more time before standing up from the bench and walking home.

“I spent the day looking for potential jobs,” Junghoon states at the dinner table the next night, “and I think I found one. But there is a catch.”

“Catch?” His father’s eyebrows fur together.

“It’s far away. A couple hours,” Junghoon tells them, “but they said they’re willing to offer room and board for me for a little while.” His parents look at each other quite surprised.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Junghoon’s mother begins, “what is the job?”

“It’s a librarian position,” Junghoon starts, “but they are in the middle of renovating the library. So for now they need help with clearing the library out. During renovations they plan to go through all the books, toss out old books and order new ones and catalog them.”

“What happens after renovations are complete?” Junghoon’s father questions.

“I will help restock the library of its book and work in the coffee shop and be the librarian assistant as well,” Junghoon answers.

“I thought you needed a degree to be a librarian?” Junghoon’s mother looks at her husband. Junghoon nods his head, just taking another bite of his food.

Junghoon covers his mouth, “to be a librarian, yes. But not a librarian assistant.” His mother nods her head.

“I think it sounds great,” She smiles at him, “have you already applied?”

Junghoon shakes his head, “I wanted to make sure moving away wouldn’t be an issue first. But I plan to apply after dinner.” His father nods his head. They continue to eat in silence the rest of their meal.

Junghoon walks into his room. He sits at his desk. He picks up the letter Poaegi gave him. He takes a deep breath looking over the contents one more time.

Dear Han Junghoon,

I’m sorry for the abilities you were gifted. You never asked for them. Nothing is your fault. If you want the chance to learn to control your abilities so nothing like those accidents never happen again, please reach out.

If you want to learn to control your abilities I can give you what you want and what your parents want. Tell them you have been offered or found a job to be a librarian assistant. The library is under renovation right now, so make sure to let your parents know too. You can come up with the rest. I’ll happily play along.

I don’t want you to suffer from what you never asked for. Some call it a blessing… others call it a curse. Sleep on the decision. Even if you don’t make it right away I will be waiting, but I do not have forever. Something is coming… but I’ll only tell you more when you arrive. I hope to see you soon.

Poaegi

Junghoon puts down the letter and picks up the small card. He pulls out his phone and dials the number. He takes a deep breath.

“Hello Junghoon,” Poaegi’s voice flows through the phone. He could hear the smile in their voice.

“Hi,” Junghoon responds, and exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. Then there was a brief silence. How should he go about this? Just say he wants them to teach him about his abilities.

“Are you sure?” Poaegi asks, worry in their voice, “you are hesitating.”

Junghoon clears his throat and sits up in his chair, “no, no, no. I want this. Sorry. It just doesn’t really feel real. I never thought I would accept this part of myself.” Poaegi laughs.

“Oh my dear,” Poaegi calms themself, “this is just the beginning. Just you wait. You will learn to control you abilities and much more… I will say it’s not an easy task and I can’t guarantee you won’t get hurt, but I can promise you control.”

“Whatever it takes to control it,” Junghoon tells them.

“Okay,” Poaegi answers, “look at the letter I handed to you.” Junghoon picks up the papers again, but they look different. “Now you will see a map and an address for the library. You can arrive as soon as tomorrow if you wish. Everything will be ready once you arrive.” Junghoon stares at the map.

“Okay,” Junghoon tells Poaegi, “I’ll be there soon.”

“Until then Junghoon,” Poaegi ends the call.

Junghoon takes another deep breath, his heart beating hard. Why is he so nervous? He looks over everything in his room. His childhood bedroom. 23 years here, and he has to pack it up and leave. Should he take everything? Or should he only take what he will need. He doesn’t know how long it will take to master abilities. Will he be allowed to come home if he asks? Poaegi seems like a reasonable person.

Junghoon loudly sighs and stands up from his desk and lays on his bed. It can all be a problem for tomorrow.

Junghoon stands in front of the Ethereal Trove Library. A small handful of suitcases in front of him, his parents standing behind him.

Junghoon turns to face his parents.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to walk you up?” His mother asks.

“I’m sure. I can do this. I’m a grown boy now, mom,” Junghoon laughs, causing her to laugh too.

“You are. All grown up,” His mother sighs looking at him, “don’t be afraid to reach out or come home if you need to.” Junghoon nods, smiling at his mother. Then he turns to his father.

“You’re going to do good,” his father states, “don’t overwork yourself. Moving from a handful of days a month to full time is going to be hard. But we’ll always be a phone call away.”

“Thanks, dad,” Junghoon smiles. His father pulls him in for a hug and then his mother.

“Well,” Junghoon smiles, “here I go.” Junghoon grabs his suitcases and pulls them up the staircase.

Junghoon opens the doors and pulls his luggage inside, letting the door close behind him.

“Hello? Who’s there?” Poaegi calls and soon appears out from behind a library shelf and a lot of stacked books.

“Junghoon! You finally arrived!” Poaegi greets and hurries over to him, “you parent’s didn’t want to come in?”

“I told them I didn’t want them to,” Junghoon answers. Poaegi smiles.

“Well welcome to your new home,” Poaegi does a grand gesture with their hands.

“Home? This is a library,” Junghoon questions, causing Poaegi to laugh.

“Let me show you. It’s much more fun than explaining,” Poaegi tells him. They grab one of Junghoon’s suitcases,walk off towards one of the grand staircases, and begin the climb. Junghoon quickly follows, looking around at the endless amount of books.

Poaegi waits for Junghoon at the top of the staircase. Junghoon slowly made his way up, admiring all the art painted on the walls and ceilings. It felt like he was in Greece or Rome with the artwork and interior architecture.

“Like what you see?” Poaegi asks.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like this up close,” Junghoon answers.

“It was all done by my ancestors. Each person gets a mural in the library,” Poaegi explains before walking down one of the hallways.

“Your family has done all this work?” Junghoon asks, “where is your mural?”

“I haven’t started mine yet. I will soon though,” Poaegi answers. They stop at a bookcase. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” Junghoon questions looking around some more.

“This,” Poaegi giggles. They reach inbetween two books on a shelf and their finger flip a switch. They pull their hand out and the bookcase rumbles before turning. A hallway opens and leads straight into another room. Junghoon watches in amazement. Poaegi motions for him to follow.

They enter the grand room and Junghoon turns around soaking in every detail. Victorian style architecture with paintings all around. In one corner of the room is a bed and a desk as well as an artifact in a showcase. The same is on the other side of the room but with a different artifact.

“What are the artifacts? Heirlooms that run in your family?” Junghoon questions walking up to one of them. He admired the golden laurel wreath crown being held up but transparent holders to make it look like the crown was floating.

“Actually, that,” Poaegi points to the crown, “is your relic. It helps enhance and control your abilities.”

“Wait? You’re saying this crown that the Greeks and Romans use to wear is going to help me with my abilities?” Junghoon inquires, pointing to the golden leafy crown.

“Yes,” Poaegi nods.

“Then what about that one?” Junghoon points to the other artifact across the room.

“That is your roommates' relic,” Poaegi answers, “they have yet to arrive… well I’ve yet to find them. Once I do, they will be your roommate.”

“Is he like me? Someone who controls the wind? There are others?” Junghoon questions.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Poaegi tells him, “there are others, but they have different abilities. You and the others are creations of the universe. All the elements were gifted to 12 individuals: water, fire, wind, earth, light, darkness, electricity, healing, life, death, and protection.”

“That is a lot of information,” Junghoon repeats and sits down on the edge of his new bed.

“That’s just surface stuff. There’s more if you want to say,” Poaegi tells him and Junghoon nods his head, “the universe gave these abilities to 12 different bloodlines. They abilities would awaken when the threat would awaken. Only one other time did these abilities awaken and they put this thing, a monster, to sleep. It would be only a matter of time before it awoke again.”

“A thing? Monster?” Junghoon sits up, freaked out a little. A small breeze picks up in the room, Poaegi silences the breeze with a swipe of their hand.

“I’m not sure what it is. There is very little documentation on it. A lot of it was destroyed. My parents didn’t teach me anything because they thought it wouldn’t awaken in my life time. They thought since it had been asleep for so long that it would have just died,” Poaegi explains, becoming agitated.

“Wait,” Junghoon stops them, “what is your role in all of this. You said you share the same abilities as me, well some of them.”

“I have the ability of protection. I can copycat each of the other 11 abilities. I can’t perform all tasks and I can only perform a full task when I am close to that person or am wearing my copycat relic,” Poaegi explains and holds up the charm bracelet to show Junghoon. Junghoon spots the laurel wreath charm on their bracelet.

Junghoon leans back on the bed, taking in all the information Poaegi told him.

“Did this monster wake up? Why are you concerned with this thing now?” Junghoon asks, remembering the monster.

“I don’t know,” Poaegi answers truthfully, “there would be no other reason for our abilities to awaken. But I haven’t seen or heard anything. I’m in the dark and having to learn on my own.”

“Where are your parents?” Junghoon asks.

“They’re gone,” Paoegi sadly smiles.

“Oh,” Junghoon quietly responds and proceeds to avoid the rest of that conversation, and noting to never bring it up in future conversations.

“If this monster, or whatever it is, is awake and comes after us or others,” Poaegi starts, “You will help defeat it? I still have to ask the others… I just haven’t had a moment.”

Junghoon sits quietly for a minute, thinking about how he wanted to answer.

“I just want to learn to control and hide my abilities,” Junghoon finally responds. Poaegi turns away from him, sadly smiling.

“That’s alright,” Poaegi tells him, “I promised you that. So I will deliver.” Poaegi heads for the door.

“The button here opens it, and I hope you watched where the button on the outside is to get in,” Poaegi explains, “dinner is at 6pm. I’ll send one of the others to come get you.” Poaegi walks out of the room, closing the door behind them.

Why his his heart ache telling them that?

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #omega x #omegax #Han Junghoon #Junghoon #omegaxlore

4 notes · View notes

bigbadripley · 1 year

Text

Chapter 2 - 49er

Marc Spector/Steven Grant x Female!OC

Summary: Marc never expected to see his childhood friend Simone ever again. To Simone, Marc may as well have been dead. However, when Simone met Steven 15 years after Marc disappeared, she couldn’t help but notice how familiar he was.

A/N: This chapter is cute and so stinkin sad at the same time bc these BABIES UGH. I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings. I wrote this entirely as a trauma dump.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter list

"You got this big jacket on It's got a pocket for your halo, I Can never tell you that you're wrong We're in the East like a sunrise" -"49er" by 99 Neighbors

"I'll kill you, scoundrel!" Simone yelled as she swung her stick through the air. It was quickly met with another branch of the same size, in hands only slightly bigger than her own.

"You'll never defeat me, Merciless Moni!" Marc shouted back.

The pair played like this far more than they would have admitted for teens their age. The sticks were their lightsabers, and they were Jedi and Sith in their imaginations. They beat the sticks together a few more times, making the sound effects of them hitting each other with their mouths before Simone found an opening and lightly jabbed Marc in the chest like she had stabbed him. "Ah! I'm hit!" He exclaimed, falling to his knees.

"That's for slaying my master, Count Spector." She proclaimed. "The Sith prevail!"

Marc clutched his chest and dramatically fell forward, causing the crunchy leaves on the ground to kick up with the air.

Simone stood for a moment, puzzled by his ability to stay that way for so long, and tapped his arm with the toe of her black Chuck Taylor shoe. Marc grabbed her ankle as planned and dragged her to the ground with him.

Once over the initial shock of having hit the floor of the woods, she burst into contagious laughter that caused them both to become inconsolable for several minutes. Marc's laughter slowly died when he noticed day-old bruises on Moni's left wrist when her oversized brown bomber jacket sleeve fell up her arm. She saw his eyes peer at them like he meant to find them, and she quickly covered them back up.

Marc knew Moni's mom was crazy, but he was always at a loss for why. It was a question Moni never knew the answer to, either.

Marc pulled a slip of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to Simone. "Nice job on the bus note, by the way. Looks just like if my dad wrote it." He was trying to find a new topic to focus on. Simone took the paper and put it in her pocket,

"Well, if he would stop forgetting to write them, I wouldn't be so good at it." She joked. Marc knew it was a joke, and Moni knew why his dad was forgetful.

"He's just... busy." He said, rolling onto his back. Moni copied the move, and for a moment, they were both blissfully looking up at the blue sky and spotted the same puffy white cloud that looked like a bear.

"So's my mom. I've gotten way too good at her handwriting." Moni said, slicing through the quiet.

"Be careful with that. Your mom's scary."

"I'm not scared of her." Moni lied, trying to put on a confident face. "She only tries to scare you because she thinks you're only my friend so you can deflower me." She said, adding an exaggerated Cuban accent to the word "deflower."

"Psh, weird." Marc scoffed playfully. Though he had a bit of a crush on his friend, he couldn't imagine she felt the same way enough to break her own rules. Nobody else had precisely what they had; that was all that mattered to him. "Who would wanna do that with you?"

Simone backhanded his shoulder for the comment, laughing. "You're no Adonis either! She says she likes you, but that's probably because your dad's the rabbi." Marc ticked an eyebrow up,

"Your mom's Catholic." He stated matter-of-factly. Moni rolled her eyes,

"Religious brownie points or some shit, I don't know how it all works. Anyway, mamá keeps threatening to send me to live with my tío because of your theoretical conspiring, but I'm pretty sure the only dealings my unc wants in my flor don't involve keeping it intact."

Marc hated Moni's uncle. They only met once at Moni's quince, where he went on and on about her becoming a "fine and filled out young woman," He had a bad feeling about the old bastard from then on. Even with Moni trying to joke and make light of the subject like she was, it still got under his skin.

"Your tío's a fuckin' perv." Marc declared with disgust without hesitation.

"She doesn't see him that way."

"If she did send you there, I'd break you out myself."

"Whatever, Spector. You don't have the cojones. You couldn't even break into my house." Moni said with a laugh. She relaxed the side of her face on the ground to look at him, and for a split second, she noticed how handsome her friend was with the golden sun beaming above his face from a distance.

Her trance was only broken by Marc sitting up,

"Wanna bet?" Marc challenged. Simone gave him a smile fit for a deviant before spitting into her palm and putting it out for him. He spat into his own, and they shook.

Simone and Marc got to her mom's house, which stayed locked up until she returned from work. Moni instructed him to try to get in from the back while she pushed the front.

They frantically pulled up on all of the windows to the house, trying to beat the other inside, when Marc remembered that the window to Moni's room was probably unlocked. He quickly circled to the side and pushed up, opening the pane just enough to slide his body through.

When Marc dropped into her bedroom, nothing took him by surprise. He had been there dozens of times already: outdated baby pink walls, dark stained wooden furniture, posters of Radiohead and Wu-Tang Clan, but one thing was out of place: her teddy bear Loser Jones was on her bed, not her dresser. He grabbed the bear to tease her for sleeping with it when he noticed a slice in the back fabric and a small slip of folded paper fall out.

Marc picked up the note and unfolded it to find words beautifully scrawled into it in blue ink, but the words themselves, directly written in Moni's handwriting, took him by surprise. It was a lazy poem, not that Marc knew the difference, but the subject was sexual and addressed to-

-You.

He didn't know who "you" was meant to be, but he felt his skin flush at the sight of the innuendos and outright filthy words made to read so delicately.

"Going through my stuff?" Marc was startled out of his fixation by Moni watching from the doorway. He realized that was exactly what it looked like, with the bear in his left hand and the paper in his right.

Moni felt a hint of embarrassment at him knowing about her biggest secret but played it off cooly as he responded.

"Uh, no, I-"

"They're shitty, I know." She interrupted as she made her way over. Marc shook his head,

"The one I read was good!"

"Right." She said, taking the note from his hand and stuffing it back into the bear. There must have been a whole treasure trove of this stuff inside poor Loser Jones. "Let's have some real fun."

Marc watched Moni sneak a bottle of tequila from the cupboard and an empty plastic water bottle she had seemingly stashed away for this. Expertly, she took a red dry-erase marker from a junk drawer and made a line where the liquid came to on in the glass bottle before filling the plastic halfway with the liquor.

She eyeballed the pour perfectly, not spilling a single drop from the wider mouth. Marc held onto the water bottle while Moni refilled the glass bottle with tap water precisely to the red line, closed the bottle, and wiped away the marker before putting it right back where she got it.

The pair hiked to the creek, taking off their shoes and socks and rolling their pants above their ankles to trek alongside the chilly rushing water.

Moni was the first to take a sip from the bottle and made a face, surprised by the burn, before passing it to Marc, who did the same.

"People drink that shit straight?" Marc asked in revulsion. "That's what I imagine lighter fluid tastes like."

"It's just as flammable, too," Moni replied with a giggle, thinking about how she wished she liked it so she would appear more impressive and grown up. She knew Marc wouldn't like the liquor, but a tinge of guilt for having him try it with her struck her heart. "I can't believe you let me do this to you."

"Do what?" He wondered.

"Turn you into a bad kid," Moni said, looking down as her bare toes squish through the muddy terrain below them.

"Can't turn me into what I already am," Marc said, seeming sure. Moni picked her head up and shot him a glare,

"Shut up, dude. You're a good boy."

"Mom doesn't think so."

"Well, don't listen to your mom. Your dad thinks you're good."

"He's part of the problem." She heard Marc mumble.

It was clear to Moni that he really believed it, and with all these years of being around him, she couldn't imagine him as anything other than the best person she'd ever known. If his parents couldn't see it, at least she did.

"Okay, I think you're a good boy, and I'm corrupting you." She told him. Marc's heart fluttered at her belief in him, but he didn't appreciate her depreciation of herself.

"No, you're not! You're great, Moni." He declared passionately.

Moni was taken aback by the change, "You're the last one on earth that thinks so-" As she spoke, she slipped on a slick rock and fell into the shallow water with a sploosh and a yelp in shock. The fall didn't hurt, but the water rushing around her legs and bottom was colder than she realized.

Marc reached out to help the girl back to her feet, but Moni had other plans. Instead of attempting to stand, she pulled him down with her in a stiff yank and laughed as the chilly stream also took him by surprise and wet his red polo shirt.

"Payback for earlier!" She yelled.

"It's freezing! You're nuts, Moni!" Marc exclaimed as he tensed up. Moni gathered herself to her feet, laughing hysterically to the point where she didn't feel cold anymore.

"One of the many things you love about me. And I love that you put up with me." She stated, holding her hand out to help him in solidarity. They were square.

Marc understood the gesture and took her hand, speaking as he hoisted himself up. "So, that's what it is? Never crossed my mind that I must put up with you because I love you!" He said, taking a tone that would make a lightbulb over his head seem suitable. Moni's heart stopped at the sentiment, but she kept her friendly teasing.

"Damn right! That'll be our pact. We have love if we have each other." She declared, holding out an extended pinky. Marc wrapped his own pinky finger with it.

"Deal."

The pair returned in the opposite direction to retrieve their socks and shoes on the topic of running away and where and how to do it. Moni noticed Marc's teeth chattered as the breeze cut through his damp shirt. Not feeling as cold, she took off her jacket and handed it to him.

"Somewhere... beachy." She said with a grin. Marc eyeballed the bomber for a moment before taking it without question.

Am I that easy to read for her?

"Like Palm City beachy or Malibu beachy?" He spoke back up, slipping the coat on one arm after another. It was pleasantly warm, absorbing much of Moni's body heat and dispersing it to him. As big as it looked on her tiny frame, it fit him near perfectly.

Moni also noticed this, thinking of how good it looked on him.

"Palm City! Malibu's too swanky."

"You'd be the famous writer and document my adventures." He stated. Moni rolled her eyes,

"Shit, if I'm not on the adventures with you, I'm not writing fuck all for you!"

"Of course, you'd be there." He said as the pair stopped walking. They had arrived just outside the patch of wood closest to Marc's house, "Damn, you gotta get home." He started as he noticed the sun nearly disappearing. Moni nodded in agreement, and Marc pulled her in for a hug goodbye. His shirt was still damp, but she didn't care much.

This hug lasted a bit longer than usual as they relished in the warmth and affection of one another before Moni finally backed up and began her route back home.

"Hey, Moni," Marc called out to her. She pivoted around, still walking backward. "I love you, ya know?" He told her. Moni recalled what they had said earlier, but it didn't stop the blush from rising to her cheeks at the words. They had a deal, and he was upholding it.

Moni nodded in delight, "I love you too, Spector. Catch you later." She called back. As she turned back around, one thing popped into her head.

What a fuckin' sweetheart.

It didn't even occur to her that he still had her jacket until she was halfway home.

8 notes · View notes

yuelun · 1 year

Text

"Once upon a time, she said to me that humans were a weak form of life that she wished to protect with her wisdom, but as she interacted more and more with them, her opinions on them began to change. She marveled at the beautiful complexity of their spirits, the sheer splendor of all they could accomplish through their hard work and intelligence. She told us that to underestimate human potential would be to make a grave mistake. With the smallest amount of guidance, enormous power can be unleashed in them, and a human who has reached their full potential may well be her equal. Someone who could have as much to teach an adeptus as to learn from them."

This is a portrayal of Guizhong/Haagentus from miHoYo's masterpiece Genshin Impact, way too incredibly passionately loved and written by Sae. Guili Assembly fanatic, tag rambler extraordinaire, and sometimes, I do resource/theme things over at iniziare. But more so than anything else, I'm here to love on Guizhong until the day that I die. While I actively write within the days of the Guili Assembly, I have a present/modern timeline.

Some rules can be found under the read more!

The Writer / Disclaimer. Hi, hello, I'm Sae, I'm in my early thirties! Born and raised in the Netherlands, I'm a proud Frenchie at heart living in France at present. While in the GMT+1 timezone, my schedule allows me to be online at the most random of times, as I'm rather of a nocturnal creature. So don't be confused if you see me around hearting your stuff like a stalker at times that would be strange for other Europeans. I'm a little weird.

Furthermore, I bear zero affiliation to/with HoYoverse, Genshin Impact, the character of Guizhong or anything related. Any and all written and visual (excluding reblogs) material found on this blog however are, unless stated or referenced otherwise, entirely my own.

(Very) Lore Heavy. This portrayal will closely follow the events as released and shown by HoYoverse. However, I've only recently gotten into game as a whole (early 2023), so I'm still in the midst finishing the currently released content (slowly progressing through Sumeru at the time of writing), so forgive me if my knowledge about the game does not not extend to all regions; my specialty lies in Liyue for obvious reasons. And don't get me wrong, I can and will talk your ears off about it if you let me. But I digress, for this portrayal, I will take any and all released content (more in 2024 most likely, shh) and combine them into a bigger picture that is formed through rationality and sense, substantiating it with logical motivations and possible inspirations from Chinese mythology (but cautiously and selectively so).

Social Politics. I'm here to write, I don't get involved in social politics of any kind, this includes (but is not limited to): call-out and cancel culture, white knighting in the eyes of anon hate, ship wars, gatekeeping, and real life politics. This blog will venture into mature and sometimes debatable themes, if you're unsure of whether that's up your alley, you're free to hit the unfollow button whenever it suits and pleases you. No ill will! I'm incredibly big on respect, and I happily offer it to you in the same capacity as you offer it to me, it's a two way street.

Mains / Exclusives. Main partners are incredibly far and few for me. While I have long-standing friends on Tumblr whose portrayals I actively trust out of experience to mesh well with my own, they will be subjected to the same treatment as everyone else, as to avoid unfair bias. While I do not and will not tie anyone down, as I do not require the practice of mains to be reciprocated by any means whatsoever; I do insist that if you choose to return it, to give me the decency of your activity and priority, as you will receive both from me. In essence, this means that you will get priority, and along with that, your portrayal will be the one referenced in my meta (if you agree with its content, of course, but I'll inherently involve you) and in my interactions with others. My current exclusives are:

Osial: ozeanum

Shipping. I will be writing essays on this, as this is not a conclusion that I came to lightly by any means (and other popular pairings like Rambler/Guizhong will be elaborated upon), but this blog will operate within the belief that the dynamic of Morax/Guizhong to have been one of a romantic nature. That aside, I'm not interested in any shipping wars and/or debates about pairings and dynamics. We are, ultimately, here to write what we want to write and with who, regardless of substance or motivation. I don't judge what you write, and you don't have to judge what I write. Let's keep it at that!

#[ ooc. ] wherever her spirit may be among the countless grains of sand and specks of dust between the harbor and the mountains…#[ psa. ] it took an elaborate treasure hunt just to preserve the four commandments that were once the lifeblood of a whole civilization.

4 notes · View notes

sserpente · 3 years

Photo

A/N: Requests from three anons. Naughty, naughtier, naughtiest. Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 2426 Warnings: shameless Christmas smut

Additional NSFW warnings: dom!Loki, usage of anal sex toy, orgasm control, forced orgasm(s)

Feeling all warm and fuzzy, you snuggled in closer to your mischievous boyfriend. After three weeks of persistent persuasion, you had finally talked Loki into watching Christmas movies with you and to be quite frank, you were convinced he secretly enjoyed them.

A comedy was on tonight, of a young couple suffering from the usual pre-Christmas stress including eccentric in-laws and turkeys burnt to a cinder. You had been giggling throughout, knowing very well it was a rather accurate representation of how chaotic Christmas could be. In fact, you could hardly wait for this year, given it would be Loki’s and your first time celebrating it together as a couple.

“I recall you telling me that those sex scenes in films are staged unless you watch a… what was it?”

“Porn movie?”

“Yes. I must admit, she is terrible at staging it.” You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“She is doing it on purpose. She is faking her orgasm.” You explained, staring at the screen. The male protagonist was wearing a Santa hat and a fake white beard—nothing else. He had surprised his girlfriend who had just gotten home from a long and exhausting day at work and even though she appreciated it, she was just too tired for sex.

“Why in the nine would she do that? That is rather pathetic for the male part.”

You blushed. You too had faked your orgasms sometimes when you were in bed with Loki.

“Um… well… she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. You know women take longer to get there and sometimes… they’re just too tired or not in the right mind set.” You yawned. “Much like today.” You added.

Loki paused the movie with but a wave of his hand and turned to face, looking you dead in the eye. “Are you implying something?” Oh, shit… you had a feeling this would bruise his godly ego.

“I… I-I only did it a few times. Once or twice. Okay, maybe a little bit more often than that. B-but that doesn’t mean I don’t ever—“

“You are what?” He bellowed. There we go.

“Loki! Listen to me, you are the most mind-blowing lover I’ve ever had. It’s like I just said, sometimes I’m too tired or have so much going on at work that I can’t let go… it’s got nothing to do with you!” You insisted.

“That is unacceptable.” He said after an uncomfortable break.

“W-what does that mean?”

Loki gave you a meaningful look. His tone was downright spiteful when he spoke again. “Let’s just finish the movie, shall we?”

You were a little surprised he let you cuddle with him again but you couldn’t focus on the film anymore anyway.

“Are you… mad at me?” You chirped after a while, your cheek against his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat.

“No. I am not.” You were not convinced. He was up to something.

The next morning started all but merry. You woke Loki with a few wet kisses, quietly singing O Christmas Tree to elicit a response.

Loki groaned, a smile playing on his lips. He didn’t need a lot of sleep but he truly didn’t like being woken up by anyone but his own body when it deemed him rested enough.

You giggled, his raven hair tickling your skin. You barely made it out of bed to open the very last door of your advent calendar and then moved to get dressed. As usual, Loki was a lot faster, simply magicking clothes onto his body without so much as blinking.

You were late. The Avengers were probably already waiting for you in the living room where Tony had put up a massive Christmas tree. And massive it was—it stood almost twenty feet high, about six metres, as far as you were concerned, and the billionaire had had to use his suit to hang up all the baubles and ornaments as well as the shining star on top. And before you had gone to sleep last night, you had sneaked your presents for everyone under the tree.

You bit your lower lip, hoping that Loki wasn’t still taken aback by your involuntary confession last night. You had meant what you had said. He was an amazing lover but sometimes… you just weren’t feeling it but still didn’t want to disappoint him or let him down. A sigh escaped your lips.

“Come on, Trickster, let’s see what Santa brought.”

“Hold up.” Loki said. “Turn around for me.”

You raised your eyebrows, not expecting anything out of the ordinary. So you did as you were told and gasped when he forced you to bend over so your upper body came to rest on the bed again, your backside in plain view for him to admire.

“Hey! Loki!” You giggled during your weak protest, then bit your lower lip. Did he want to… now? Hmm… Christmas morning sex. Your heartbeat sped up as you wiggled your behind a bit, arousal already pooling between your legs.

You heard him chuckle behind you but instead of his hard cock at your wet entrance, you suddenly felt something hard and cold press against your back entrance.

“L-Loki…” You had tried toys of the like before, especially right before sex and you had enjoyed it very much but now was definitely not the time. You were about to head downstairs to the Christmas tree, exchanging presents and having a hearty breakfast with the Avengers, there was no way you were going to…

You gasped when he slid the clearly lubed plug into your rear, and it went in with little resistance. Loki knew your body so well it almost scared you. That, and you were already soaking wet and responsive to your butthole being pampered in such a way.

“Hmm… are we enjoying ourselves?” Loki mused, smirking as he led you over to the mirror to let you admire his work. The plug was a little bigger than what you were using for sex but still oddly comfortable to wear. What stood out the most to you, however, was the fact it was golden, with a green jewel attached to it and decorating your buttocks. “You are positively dripping, my dear.”

You bit your lower lip once more, mouth all of a sudden completely dry.

“It looks hot and beautiful at the same time.” You admitted, meeting his blue eyes in the mirror.

“Consider it a Christmas gift.” He said with a wink. Your eyes widened when he slid your comfy trousers back on and turned to leave the room.

“Hang on there. What are you doing?”

Loki tilted his head, playing innocent. “I am meeting my brother and his silly friends for Christmas.”

“W-what… oh my goodness. This is about last night, isn’t it? You want revenge, is that right?”

Loki smirked. “I have no idea what you are talking about, my love. Now… let us head downstairs, shall we?” You only glared at him in response, tensing up when his hand wrapped around your arm and stopped you in the threshold. “You will regret it dearly if you secretly try to take this out before I allow you to do so.” He hissed into your ear. Your walls clenched. This was certainly going to be your most interesting Christmas yet.

You had been right indeed. Crouching down to get the presents out from under the tree proved extremely difficult wearing a butt plug—at least, it proved extremely difficult to not moan in front of everyone.

Loki’s smirk never faltered, not even when he received your present and thanked you with a passionate kiss right in front of the Avengers. If only they knew… you had no idea what else Loki had in store for you once the two of you were alone again.

Christmas dinner posed as equally difficult. Sitting calmly at the table, enjoying the delicious turkey and treats and conversing without wiggling around like a child was nearly impossible. For the first time ever, you were glad when the festivities were over and you could finally retreat to bed, hoping that Loki would fuck your brains out before you fell asleep tonight.

You stood in front of him, arms akimbo when his clothes melted off of his body and he threw back the covers of the bed to get comfortable when you returned from the bathroom.

“Are you serious? Loki!”

“Oh dear… I almost forgot.” He lied, once again smirking like a cat that got the cream. “Lie down, little minx. Tell me, are you aching?” He teased, chuckling darkly.

“No!” You spat sarcastically, unable to hide your amusement. “I have been horny all day, you tease!”

“Have you now?” He was grinning now. Your heart skipped a beat when he snapped his fingers and then pointed at the bed for you to lie down. At this point, you did not even want to pretend to resist and be bratty for a bit.

Eager for your release (and knowing fully well this was his vengeance) you climbed on the mattress and gaped up at him with anticipation. But Loki took his time. Slowly and while eyeing you like a wild predator he joined in bed, tugging at your clothes in the process.

“Take them off.” He growled. You were panting when you did as you were told, all until you were completely naked except for the butt plug still snugly inside of your rear. A squeal escaped your lips when he lunged at you with a start, grabbing your hips and pulling you into a lying position. His scrutinising and downright lustful gaze never left yours as he sneaked his hand between your legs, right where you wanted him the most and dipped a finger in your folds.

“My… you are gushing.” You bucked your hips up against him, too impatient to listen to him talk dirty like that but his hand was already travelling upwards again, fingertips ghosting over your skin and leaving a trail of goose bumps behind. You gasped when he circled your left breast and played with your already hardening nipple until you were whimpering for him.

“Loki, please…” You begged, biting your lower lip to appear innocent. The God of Mischief chuckled.

“So desperate?” He uttered, fingers returning to your cunt. You shivered when his thumb ghosted over your clit, giving it a gentle stroke. You had been on edge all day it would not at all take you long to finally be granted your long-awaited relief, even less so when Loki buried two of his long fingers inside you without any forewarning, curling them to massage your g-spot and circling your impatient clit with his thumb. His fingers were magic. No, he was magic. If only the world knew what a skilled lover Loki was they would change their mind about him being a megalomaniac villain and shower him with affection and fanmerch instead.

Moaning, you threw your head back, meeting the thrusts of his digits by bucking your hips hungrily. Loki could tell you were close already. You were tightening around his fingers, your breathing so fast he feared you might lose consciousness.

A satisfied growl escaped his lips when you came, milking his fingers as endless waves of pleasure rolled over your body, making you moan his name. Only Loki did not stop once all the bliss slowly started to fade away, your clit complaining about the ongoing stimulation.

“Again. Now.” Loki growled.

“W-what?”

“I want another. How can I be sure you truly came, after all?” He mused. You groaned. So it was revenge after all. He knew exactly you had come.

“I d-did… w-what… I can’t… Loki… oh, fuck…” He knew you could. He knew your body could. Still fingering you relentlessly, he tossed you straight into another hot orgasm as his thumb returned to your clit. Your back arched, fingers digging into the bed sheets as you clenched rhythmically around his long digits. Heavens, it felt even more intense with the butt plug still snugly inside of you.

“L-Loki… stop… s-stop, please…” You breathed, unable to form a proper sentence.

“Oh no, my dear… you can give me one more. Just so I can be completely sure.” He replied hoarsely, knowing that you could take it and would react differently if you truly had enough. It was the mix of pleasure and your strong feelings for him that made your mind turn like a spinning wheel, unable to stop or escape the tornado of emotions and relentless bliss. So he kept going, tormenting your already overstimulated bundle of nerves until your toes curled.

“Don’t you ever dare fake an orgasm with me again.” He growled into your ear, his hot breath brushing against your skin. Pleasant shivers ran up and down your spine, yet you were unable to answer him. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him and dug your nails into his back, pulling his upper body closer to yours to urge him on, his name leaving your lips like a prayer as he brought you to a third orgasm making you see stars.

Panting, it took you quite a while to come down from your high again as Loki helped you ride out your climax before finally removing his now slick fingers and licking them clean with relish. When he made no move to position himself between your legs and get some relief himself, you let your head fall back into the soft pillows, making Loki chuckle.

“No falling asleep just yet, my love. Let me remove the jewel from that lovely behind of yours first.” Your eyes fell shut nonetheless, an acknowledging sound the only form of communication you could still muster as you let Loki gently take out the plug. You would have drifted off to sleep there and then, without a blanket, if Loki didn’t scoop you up like a cherished bride and wrapped you under the covers before cradling you in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Loki.” You muttered, eyes still shut tiredly.

“Whatever for?”

“I never meant to offend you when I faked, I just wanted you to have your fun even when I wasn’t in the mood.”

“I know. Don’t lie to me again. Ever. There is no point for me to take pleasure from you if I am unable to return the favour.”

You smiled. You really had the most amazing boyfriend in the world. Well… which was probably because he was in fact, not from this world. No Christmas present could ever compete.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

1K notes · View notes

classyklancey · 3 years

Text

White Magnolia

Pairing: Keith Kogane x Lance McClain Genre: fluff (pining idiots) Warnings: Keith is so in love it’s gross Summary: Lance convinces Keith to go on a road trip with him to California. Keith struggles to hide his pining Word Count: 3.5k words A/N: this was supposed to be posted for Lance’s birthday but oh well-

Keith doesn’t know why he decided to indulge Lance in such a crazy fantasy. One minute Lance is just rambling about what he misses about Cuba and the next, Lance is driving them both from Texas to California in his blue Tacoma. Keith really can’t find it in him to complain though with the way the sun is shining on Lance’s beautiful bronze skin and the wind is blowing through his brown, curly locks.

What Keith can complain about though is Lance’s terrible taste in music. For some reason, Lance’s road trip playlist—which is mysteriously called ‘Not a thing to do, but talk to you. WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! WE'RE ALL ALRIGHT! HELLO WISCONSIN!’ and no matter how much Keith asks, Lance refuses to tell him why it’s called that—is mostly consisted of 90s songs. Being the pining idiot that he is though, Keith can’t find it in him to do any more than light teasing in Lance’s direction as he screeches all the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

One song does however catch Keith’s attention, especially since Lance immediately tries to skip it. “What was that?” Keith asks, smashing his pointer finger against the back button on the radio to bring it back to the song that Lance is currently blushing over.

“Nothing! Stop hitting the back button!” Lance screeches as he keeps trying to skip it only for Keith to hit the back button. They do this three or four times before Lance reaches his right hand over to smack and hit Keith. Keith grunts with every hit that Lance lands, not even noticing that the song he’s been trying to skip is finally playing.

When I first saw you, I saw love And the first time you touched me, I felt love And after all this time You're still the one I love, mmm, yeah-yeah

Keith starts to blush along with Lance, his hand smacking Lance’s away and finally bringing the brunette’s attention back to the song playing. Lance hurriedly skips it and looks at Keith out of the corner of his eye, but Keith pretends not to see as he looks out the window. Keith just assumes that Lance is embarrassed for having such a lovey-dovey song playing with Keith here, but Keith can’t help but feel that this is their song.

Keith is a stupid man who has been stupidly in love with someone who will never return his feelings for as long as they’ve known each other. Keith instantly took a liking to Lance despite having never even had a conversation together. Keith had always admired that Lance was so outspoken and friendly with everyone he met.

Well, except for Keith.

No, you see, Lance had somehow decided that Keith was his rival and that Lance would take him down. First, it was little things, like Lance trying to do better than him on quizzes and he’d brag each and every time he’d even get one single point more than Keith. That was annoying but it wasn’t too bad, Keith could handle that. It slowly began to escalate though over time until it turned to them yelling in each other’s faces and having to be pulled away from one another before it got physical. All that ended up doing was causing Keith to shut him out and pretend he didn’t even exist despite the fact that he could barely keep his eyes off of the blue-eyed Cuban. They ended up getting into the same friend group though since Hunk is friends with Lance, Keith is friends with Pidge, and Hunk and Pidge are friends with each other. It didn’t take them long to bring Keith and Lance together, even though it did take a long, long time. The duo eventually started to see each other as friends and became as thick as thieves.

Keith always craved for more though.

Keith is knocked out of his reminiscing when Lance curses because he missed a turn, his frown instantly becoming a smile when one of his favorite songs comes on. Lance goes back to screaming the words which causes Keith’s grey eyes to roll towards the back of his head. Despite his supposed annoyance, his heart is doing tricks in his chest whenever Lance grows focused on driving, which causes his screeching to become light, melodic singing.

Keith is starting to believe that this is what heaven would be like.

Keith’s eyes focus on Lance’s right hand that rests on the gear shift, his fingers tapping along to whatever annoying song he is playing. Keith suddenly has the urge to reach out and tangle their fingers together, to compare who’s hand is bigger and how their skin tones contrast beautifully.

This all repeats for a while, along with occasional chatter, for about eight hours before Lance grows too tired to drive on anymore. They have about twelve more hours to drive and Keith offers to drive while Lance sleeps, but Lance has an odd reaction. He claims he doesn’t trust Keith to drive ‘his baby’ but something Lance doesn’t know is that Keith has become a bit of a Lance expert. If they’re getting food and Lance says he doesn’t want any, what he really is saying is he doesn’t want to make Keith pay since he forgot his wallet. If Lance seems off and says he’s fine when Keith asks about it, what he really means is that he’s not okay but he wants to appear strong in front of everyone.

So, when Lance says he doesn’t trust Keith to drive his car, what he’s really saying is that he wants them to enjoy the ride there together. ‘It’s called a road trip for a reason, Keith.’ Keith doesn’t fight him on it and offers that they get some food before spending the night in a motel.

After getting some extremely greasy fast food and talking until really late, they finally head into their crappy and very worrisome motel. They both stop in the doorway when they find that there’s only one bed, making both of them stare at it in silence.

“I can sle—”

“I don’t mind tak—”

They both go quiet again when they both talk at the same time, both of their bodies turned slightly away from each other. Lance sighs and places his bag onto a small table by the door, starting to unzip it to pull out all his nightly routine items. “Look, why don’t we just share the bed? The floor is absolutely disgusting and I’m afraid one of us would catch something if we even tried sitting on it,” Lance says as he pulls everything out and begins heading for the bathroom. He makes a face when he walks inside of it before turning to smile at Keith and shooting him his signature wink.

Keith sighs and sets his bag on the chair by the table, deciding that he really didn’t want to sleep on the gross floor nor did he want to make Lance do it. Lance would probably complain about it through the entire night and all of his life if he ended up sleeping there anyway. Keith changes into his pajamas right there seeing as how Lance has seen Keith shirtless many times. Not that he ever seems to notice Keith’s shirtlessness…

The same doesn’t go for Keith though. Oh, no no. Keith has become the master at staring at Lance without getting caught. Well, sometimes he does and each time he’s caught, his face erupts in color. Lance always just assumes it’s from their recent workout or being out in the sun too long. Keith thanks God every day for Lance’s obliviousness despite the fact that he’s not religious. Keith catches himself staring at Lance more than the Cuban man does. He can’t help himself though. Lance has the looks of a god, what with his smooth, caramel skin, thick, curly hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, perfectly straight, white teeth, and the list goes on. Keith’s pretty sure he could write a whole book—no, a trilogy—on Lance’s perfect body. The thing Keith hates the most about his stupid crush though is that it’s not just his body that he likes. No, that would make Keith’s life easier and he’s pretty sure that the universe is out to spite him. No, Keith has to like all of Lance. His bad puns, his stupid finger guns, his cheesy pick-up lines, his corny sense of humor, his everything. Keith wants all of him more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

“Alright, bathroom’s yours!” Lance calls as he walks back over to his bag, smiling when he sees that Keith is wearing the pajama set that Lance had gotten him for Christmas one year. “No way!” Lance shouts in glee before rushing to his bag to pull out his matching pair. Keith sighs down at his red pajamas before looking at Lance’s blue pajamas.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he grumbles as he walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I’m not doing anything!” Lance huffs as he starts pulling on his own pjs. Once they are all ready for bed, they stand at the foot of it in another silence.

“So, uh, what side of the bed do you want?” Lance mumbles. Keith shrugs, not really caring either way what side he gets. “Cool, can I get the left side then?” he continues, already moving onto that side of the bed before Keith can even reply. Keith huffs a laugh through his nose before crawling onto the right side. Both of them lay on top of the covers, too scared of what lies beneath the covers to let their skin touch it. Good thing Arizona is such a warm state cause Keith would think he’d freeze otherwise. Guess it also helps that their AC unit doesn’t work anyway.

Unlike Lance, Keith has always been an early riser, so he’s not surprised when he wakes up before the brunette. What he is surprised to find though is that Lance is laying on his chest softly snoring away. Keith’s arms are wrapped around Lance’s torso and he can’t help but to squeeze him a little tighter, hoping that this isn’t a dream. Keith then finds that the still snoozing dork is sweating buckets, if Lance’s semi-damp clothes are anything to go by. Keith’s nose wrinkles at how gross they are but, of course, Keith’s poor weak heart starts beating faster at the fact that they’re cuddling.

And maybe Keith’s wildly beating heart is what causes Lance to stir and to slowly blink his eyes open. He’s letting out a yawn and beginning to stretch before halting in the middle of it, his eyes growing as wide as plates. He suddenly jerks away from Keith, doing so in such a harsh way that it causes him to tumble to the floor with a scream. Keith laughs and sits up, crawling over to Lance’s side of the bed to look over the edge at him. He finds Lance frowning and glaring up at the amused look on Keith’s face.

“It’s not funny,” he grumbles up at Keith, his frown turning into a pout as he sits up. Keith helps Lance up before offering Lance the bathroom first. Lance’s face warms as he stares at where he was once laying, Keith’s brow-raising up at him as he just stands there gawking. He then clears his throat and forces out a bad joke before scurrying to the bathroom.

They both take turns showering and while Lance is taking his, Keith lets his mind wander while he lays on the stiff bed. Keith’s stupid heart makes his stupid brain wonder what it would be like to wake up beside Lance every day, seeing the dried drool on the corner of his mouth and witnessing his sleepy blue eyes come to life the moment they see Keith.

Keith snaps out of his daydream when the bathroom door swings open and reveals a glistening Lance emerging with rolls of steam curling around his body. Keith recognizes the hypnotizing smell of Lance’s vanilla shampoo all the way from the bed, making his heart flutter with the familiar scent.

After Keith takes a brisk shower, they are on the road again. They stop to get breakfast at a diner before leaving the town that they stopped in. It isn’t until they’re in California that they stop again, this time pulling over onto the side of the road. Keith is about to ask why Lance is pulling over when Lance leans against the car and just looks out in front of him. Keith finally takes his eyes off of Lance to look at what Lance has stopped to admire.

When he turns his head, he sees just what Lance is marveling at. Before them are dozens of white magnolia trees that Keith begins marveling at right along with Lance. Keith slowly gets out of the car and leans against it beside Lance, his eyes finding the side of Lance’s face every few seconds. Keith’s eyes widen when Lance suddenly grabs his hand and begins tugging him towards the trees. “Lance! What are you doing? What about the truck?” Keith hollers. Lance just laughs and continues dragging him along without a care in the world, smiling when they reach the sweet-smelling trees.

Lance starts to hum a song as they weave their way between all of the trees, Keith’s heart threatening to beat out of his chest with the way the wind is blowing some of the petals and flowers off of the tree and onto Lance’s hair. They spend quite some time there, their hands still clasped together as they wander around. Keith and Lance end up racing from one tree to another and arguing about who clearly won. Once they settle on that it’s a draw (even though it most definitely wasn’t, Lance), they sit down beneath one of the larger trees to escape the unforgiving sun. They lean against each other and talk about any and everything, Keith’s heart threatening to pop out of his chest when Lance keeps mindlessly playing with Keith’s hands. Lance stops telling a story of something that happened last summer mid-sentence when a whole magnolia flower lands in his lap.

“These are edible, you know,” he says as he picks it up, studying it like it’s one of the greatest wonders of the world.

“What?” Keith asks, not being sure if he should trust Lance or not. This could be revenge when Keith told him that a flower he found on their weekly hike was good and tasted like cinnamon. Lance had been suspicious but ended up going for it anyway and immediately regretting it. Lance just about strangled Keith but Keith had laughed so hard that tears were falling down his face. It made Lance’s job of strangling Keith easier though since his body was so weak from laughter.

“Yeah. They’re actually pretty good. They have a mild ginger taste,” he explains. Before Keith can tell him to prove it, he’s already taking a bite. Keith watches with wide eyes as he chews and swallows, a soft smile coming to his face. Either it’s actually good or Lance is an amazing actor. He offers the flower to Keith and Keith decides to go for it just as Lance went for it when their situation was reversed. Keith found that he was, in fact, not lying.

When Lance finally decides they can leave, Keith stops him with a soft smile. He reaches up, tugs one of the flowers from the tree, and then faces Lance, finding his perfectly waxed brows furrowed together. Keith’s smile grows more as he tucks the flower behind Lance’s ear, causing the Cuban’s face to erupt with color.

Keith has changed his mind. This is what heaven must be like.

Lance finally lets Keith choose some music to play once they continue driving, his hand always coming up to tuck the flower back down behind his ear whenever the wind threatens to blow it away. When Keith plays some of his music though, of course Lance complains about the songs. Keith can tell he doesn’t have any malice behind his words though.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t loud and dizzying, Mullet?” Lance jabs, turning to look at him with a crooked smile when they come to a stop at a light. Keith scoffs and turns his gaze away from the many shops lining the street to face Lance.

“Do you listen to anything that isn’t repetitive and annoying?” he fires right back with his usual smirk. Lance scoffs just like Keith did before turning his eyes back onto the road, his fingers going back to tapping on the gear shift, which brings Keith’s gaze back to his hand.

When they finally reach their destination in California, the sun is slowly starting to sink towards the horizon. Lance rushes out of the truck stop that they had decided to stop at when he notices it. “Mullet! C’mon! Hurry up! We are going to miss it!” Keith can’t really take him seriously when he’s wearing dollar sign shades that he bought in the gift shop. He’s sure he looks just as ridiculous with his alien eyes shades.

“Miss what?” he asks as he follows Lance at a much slower pace to his truck. Lance doesn’t reply though. Instead, he rips them out of the parking lot before Keith even has his door shut, making Keith screech and holler at him to slow down despite his laughter. He realizes why Lance was in such a big hurry when Lance parks and then flies out of his truck. Keith follows Lance down to the beach, a soft ‘wow’ leaving him when he sees the pretty blue water reflecting the sun that has just touched the horizon. Lance doesn’t seem to think Keith is going fast enough though, seeing as how he snatches his hand up and once again starts dragging him towards the coastline.

When Lance’s bare feet touch the water—wait, when did he take off his shoes?—the biggest smile that Keith has ever seen spreads across Lance’s face. Hunk wasn’t kidding when he told Keith that Lance belongs in the water. Keith smiles and gives his hand a squeeze before turning to look at the setting sun, not even caring that his boots are getting wet right now.

When the sun is gone behind the ocean’s waves, Keith notices they are facing each other with their hands tightly grasped together. Keith isn’t sure how they got into this position but what he is sure of though is that he’s never wanted to kiss Lance more than in this very moment.

“Keith…” Lance suddenly interrupts the peacefulness with a whisper, his eyelids seeming to grow heavy the longer he stares at Keith. Keith is momentarily shocked into silence when Lance uses his name instead of ‘Mullet’ but quickly recovers when he notices Lance slowly getting closer to him.

“Yes?” he whispers back, his voice refusing to get any louder in fear of shattering the dream-like state that they’ve created within the last few minutes.

Instead of verbally replying, Lance leans forward until their noses bump together and their breaths begin to mingle. Keith can taste the spearmint gum that Lance got from the pitstop on his breath, the smell becoming Keith’s favorite scent, second to Lance’s vanilla shampoo. Keith’s heart halts in his chest before going into overdrive when their lips finally touch, Keith’s breath stuttering. As their lips move against each other’s, Keith vaguely listens to the sound of the waves crashing and the seagulls squawking.

Keith is once again corrected. This is what heaven would be like.

Keith is knocked out of their blissful kiss when a bigger wave suddenly washes over their feet, causing water to spill down into his boots. He pulls away with an aggravated grunt, looking down at the saltwater that is now brimming his shoes. “Lance,” Keith growls despite the fact that it wasn’t necessarily Lance’s fault. Their dumb banter comes more naturally for them than anything else.

“What?” Lance crows with a look of indignation on his face, his arms letting Keith’s cheeks go to cross his arms over his chest. They fall into the usual repartee despite the fact that now their arms are wrapped tight around the other and refuse to let go. Well, that is until Keith goes ‘too far’ and makes Lance splash him with water. Keith glares at Lance like a murderous wet cat, his claws and fangs starting to show. Lance lets out a squeak before taking off down the coastline, his laughter deafening the sound of the waves that still lap at their feet.

Keith catches up to Lance with ease, seeing as how the tanned man isn’t actually trying to outrun his new lover. Keith wraps his arms around Lance’s waist and snatches him back, making Lance’s laughter cut off with a squeal. Keith spins him around which just ends up bringing Lance’s melodic laughter back.

Keith sets him back down and Lance immediately spins around to face Keith, setting their foreheads together. “We should go on another trip soon, Samurai,” he whispers before connecting their lips for another kiss.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

MASTERLIST

More with Klance

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

245 notes · View notes

cactiem · 3 years

Text

coming back to you // m.b

Pairing: Marcus Baker x OC

Requested: Nope

Summary: How does Victoria Lexington know Marcus Baker?

GIF Not Mine

Everyone knows everything about everyone in Welsbury. That’s what is part of the charm. Deep in the roots of the picture-perfect town are secrets and lies, feeding its residents. Maybe that’s what brought Georgia to this quaint town. She was intrigued by the flawless front the town presented, a place where nothing could go wrong. It did go wrong though. One fateful summer afternoon, Caroline Lexington was found dead in her home leaving a giant hole in the Lexington home and one in the town she put all her a time and effort in to.

No one had heard from Victoria Lexington after her mom’s funeral. She just disappeared off the face of the planet without telling anyone. Her classmates just thought that she moved away or something after the traumatic year she had but the stares and whispers said otherwise. Her hair was straight, and lips painted a deep red, hips swinging as she walked down the hallway with everyone’s eyes on her. Nothing had changed. It was like the whole summer didn’t exist.

“Who’s that?” Ginny asked, intrigued by the presence Victoria had.

“That is Victoria Lexington.” Abby said as if it was obvious.

Seeing Ginny’s puzzled look, Max couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You’re so cute.” Ginny just gave her a deadpanned look before she continued. “Her family like owns this town and her mom died at the start of the summer so we’re all waiting for a breakdown to happen.”

Ginny looked at the brunette taking in her appearance as the rest of MANG fell into conversation. She didn’t look like she just lost her mom. Her red lips were pursed as she rummaged through her locker, aware of all the attention that was on her and loving every bit of it. Victoria was well put together. Ginny knew everyone handled loss in their own way, but something didn’t sit well with her, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

There was one thing that was getting on Victoria’s nerves as she went through her first day back at school and that was everyone asking her if she was okay. Was she okay? She didn’t know. Nothing was ever black and white. There were many levels to being okay and right now Victoria was okay enough. That didn’t stop her from plastering on a fake smile and thanking everyone for their forced condolences as if they cared. They didn’t. The only person who really cared about her was Marcus and she fucked that up. He saw at her lowest and Victoria couldn’t allow that. After all Lexington’s don’t cry in front of people.

She heard her mom’s voice clear as day, feel her claws digging into her jaw as she gripped it forcing Victoria to look up at her mom. “If you cry at any inconvenience then you’ll never stop crying. Crying is a weakness and Lexington’s aren’t weak.” Deep breath in. “You’ve gotten fat. Please don’t make me alter this dress so close to the gala.” Deep breath out. “This is all your fault. He’s dead because of you.” Deep breath in. “You stupid ungrateful bitch!” Deep breath out.

“Hey, its okay.” Victoria heard Marcus’s familiar voice and felt his hands clasp hers to stop her from hurting herself any further. She opened her eyes to a concerned brown pair looking back at her. He cupped her cheek, wiping away the tears she didn’t even know fell. Victoria quickly brushed him off, stepping away from him and wiping away her own tears.

“I’m fine.” She said, her smile forced.

“Tori, you don’t have to lie to me. I won’t judge.” Marcus slowly walked back over to her, making sure it was okay.

“I know I should feel sad today but I-I don’t. Does that make me a bad person?”

“There’s no wrong or right way on how you should be feeling.” Marcus said and Victoria such collapsed into his arms, gripping his lapels of his jacket as she cried, letting everything out.

At least when she got home, Victoria could count on some sense of normalcy. Her dad in his office doing work leaving the house to herself. That’s at least what she was hoping when she walked through the big oak front doors. Instead, a woman’s laugh could be heard from the kitchen along with her dad’s. Victoria slowly walked into the room, observing what was happening. “Hey, sweetie.” Her dad greeted, happier than he has been in a while. “This is Georgia from the mayor’s office. She’s helping with the business.”

“You must be Ginny’s mom, right?” Victoria said after a moment, looking the blonde women over.

“I am. Are you two friends?” She asked, her smile growing even bigger and her southern drawl thick.

“Great friends.” The brunette returned the smile, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the island before going upstairs, a plan hatching in her head.

Looking in the mirror, Victoria finished touching up her hair, her hand knocking over her drink all over Ginny who had just come over to wash her hands. “I am so sorry!” She gasped, feigning shock. “Here let me help you.” She quickly grabbed paper towels to try and help Ginny even though her efforts were pointless knowing the top will stain.

“Thanks.” She mumbled taking the towels to try and salvage her top.

Victoria leaned against the side, looking over Ginny with a sly grin. “If I was you I’d keep my hands to yourself.” Ginny gave the girl an incredulous look as she made her way to the door. “Same goes for your mom.”

Ginny was speechless, standing alone in the bathroom. She couldn’t believe what had happened, well she could but still. Her friends told her not to retaliate knowing that Victoria will make her life a living hell. What they didn’t know though was that Ginny also had a mean sting in her and never pulls her punches. She was a woman on a mission and made a beeline for Victoria after the final bell rang. That was why her friends followed her and Marcus hung around to see what was going to go.

“Can I help you?” She asked, already bored of the conversation that hadn’t started yet.

“You owe me a new top.” Ginny simply said, her arms crossed to help seem more intimidating.

“I told you it was an accident.” Victoria said innocently.

“Oh, please, you and I both know you did this on purpose.” She scoffed. “Why did you this?”

“Because, as classy as ever your mom has already got her claws into a new man, a recently widowed one at that.”

“You mean your dad, right?” Ginny asked before continuing not waiting for an answer because she already knew. “Because let’s not forget why he is a widow in the first place. You killed her, right? Your mom?”

“Ginny.” Victoria heard Marcus warn her, but she held her hand up.

“No, I wanna hear what she has to say.” She clenched her jaw trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall.

“You killed your mom because you had enough of all the shit she put you through since your brother’s death which, was also your fault.” The silence that had fallen onto the group was suffocating. Everyone was waiting to see Victoria’s reaction, expecting her to breakdown or something. She didn’t though, the many years of hiding her emotions coming handy.

“You’ve what, been here five minutes and you think you know everything? Well, you don’t so how about you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut and run along unless you want me to destroy you and everything your mom built.” Victoria warned, walking away from the stunned crowd.

Her chest rose and her eyes burned from the tears she was holding back. Victoria ended up in the nearest bathroom, not caring if it was the boy’s or not. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the sink hard, trying to calm herself down. “What Ginny said isn’t true, you know that, right?” Victoria should’ve known that Marcus would have followed her. She continued to ignore him, staring down at the floor. “Hey, look at me.” He said, gently lift her chin up so she could see him.

“Why are you being nice to me? I pushed you away, remember? I treated you like shit.” Victoria said.

“Because even though you did that I still find my way back to you just like you find your way back to me.” Marcus leaned down, his lips ghosting hers. The same electric feeling coming back from their first kiss.

A/N: if you have any requests for Marcus please send them in

Tag List: @mayaslifeinabox @princess-of-the-fandoms @live--aloud @les-bio-lie @ivvitm1109 @seninjakitey @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @genius2050 @tiannawashere

#marcus baker imagine #marcus baker x oc #marcus baker #ginny and georgia imagine #ginny and georgia

172 notes · View notes

got-svt · 3 years

Text

for tonight

order up ! large caramel latte at 75 % sweetness, an oatmeal raisin cookie, and a slice of cheesecake with doyoung for anon <3 order notes : doyoung x reader, angst, but the end is kinda fluffy, exes to lovers, some mentions of other nct members look, something’s written on your cup… hi anon! for oatmeal raisin cookies the prompt is either enemies or exes so i hope you don’t mind that i chose exes haha. anyways, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! <3 - ren

summary: it’s taeyong’s wedding and you find yourself having no choice but to share a bed with your ex-boyfriend, doyoung. word count: 2.75k ( so sorry, i might have to change the word count on large orders asdfghkl literally all my oneshots are over 2k why did i think i could stick to under 2k for ca )

You stared ahead, eyes unblinking at the sight. Sure, the sight of a single bed wasn’t remotely daunting to most of the human population, but not to you. Not when you had to share it with your ex-boyfriend, Doyoung. He wore the same look of shock you did, mouth parted, eyebrows raised, and a cold drop of sweat dripping down his forehead. Beside you, you could see his fists clenching and unclenching — like he was trying to keep himself calm, but to very little success. Unfortunately for him, you were also feeling very on edge as you bit the inside of your cheek — waves of nervousness building up from the very pit of your stomach, soon enough they would eventually have to come crashing down.

You shouldn’t have come in the first place. If it weren’t for the incessant pestering of your friends, you wouldn’t have come at all. But it was Taeyong’s wedding, it was too big of a deal to ditch just because you didn’t feel like running into an ex.

“Seriously, Yn?” Taeyong pouted after hearing your initial hesitation on attending, “You’re skipping my wedding, the biggest day of my life, because you’re afraid you’ll see Doyoung? May I remind you that you were my friend before he became your boyfriend.”

You huffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I know that, but what if things are awkward between us and we ruin your day because of it?”

“Hasn’t it been a couple of months already? I’m sure both of you moved on.” Taeyong rolled his eyes, “I’m not saying both of you have to spend the day together, I just want you to be there.”

You eventually agreed, though it took convincing from at least three other people besides Taeyong to get you to finally go. Johnny promised that he would sit beside you during the ceremony, you subtly asking to sit as far away from Doyoung as you possibly can — which meant tugging on his sleeve the second you caught sight of him. Taeyong was kind enough to move seating arrangements around, placing you in between Jaehyun and Mark and having you four tables away from Doyoung. You spent most of the reception dancing with Yuta and Haechan, laughing loudly whenever you stepped on their feet or when they spun you around a little too quickly. For most of the day, Doyoung had been in the back of your mind, enjoying the company you kept and catching up with your shared friends. But the day eventually had to end, nightfall slowly creeping up on you before shaking you back into the reality you had to force yourself to face.

“Okay, thank you.” Doyoung politely spoke before placing the telephone back on its receiver. His suit’s jacket was now off, neatly folded across the back of a wooden desk chair. The top two buttons of his crisp white button-down were undone.

You had to stop yourself from staring too long to be considered appropriate, shaking your head slightly. “Well, what did they say?”

Doyoung winced at the sharpness in your tone. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, or cold for that matter, the effects of the long day had been wearing down on you and you wanted nothing more than to take a warm shower and fall into a dreamless sleep surrounded by the fluffiest pillows this luxurious hotel had to offer.

“Hotel’s all booked up because of the wedding. We can’t get another room.” He sighed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, the soft mattress dipping ever so slightly.

You pinched the the bridge of your nose, shutting your eyes as tightly as you could — as if that would somehow help you will into reality that this was not happening. The two of you booked this hotel room weeks before you had broken up, the minute you had finally gotten wind of the where the wedding was going to be held. In the sudden whirlwind that was your breakup, neither of you had remembered to cancel and book another room. With the the nearest hotel somehow fifty miles away, you slowly braced yourself to deal with the unfortunate situation of having to share the room with your ex-boyfriend.

You opened your eyes to see Doyoung hunched over, eyes trained on his phone, very clearly frustrated. His fingers moved across his screen quickly, face slightly lit up from its harsh glare. You tilted your head to the side, watching as he eventually shut his phone off and ran a hand through his already messy hair. “I asked our friends if I could sleep in any of their rooms. All of them answered no. All full apparently, so no space for me.”

You scoffed, there was no way none of them couldn’t possibly spare a bit of space for Doyoung. He nodded in agreement at your annoyance. Both of you knew all of your friends rooted for the two of you, they were the reason you had even gotten together in the first place. You knew Taeyong ever since you learned how to walk, and you saw no harm in going on a blind date with a friend he had claimed would be absolutely perfect for you. Their denial only triggered memories of their exaggerated wails of heartbreak when they found out about your breakup.

“It’s fine, maybe I can sleep on the tub or something. You can take the bed.” Doyoung offered, motioning a hand towards the bed before heading to the bathroom. You rolled your eyes. Always the sweetheart, you thought. He was gone for all of five seconds when you heard his voice from the bathroom, soft yet clearly frustrated, “There’s no tub.”

Doyoung made his way over to you, his hands behind his back. There was a certain nervous energy that surrounded his figure, you wonder what was it about you that made him feel this way. Granted, this had been the first time you were going to be alone with him in months, you don’t even recall seeing him in person before the wedding. He refused to meet your eyes, gaze firmly on the carpeted floor beneath him, “I’ll take the floor instead.”

You knew there was no way you were letting him sleep on the floor, you were already about to protest his suggestion of sleeping on the tub until he made his way to the bathroom before he could even respond. Sure, you were broken up, but that didn’t mean you were that cold of a person to deny him access to a bed. “No.”

“What?” Doyoung looked up at you in surprise, eyes growing wide.

“Listen,” You sighed, not wanting to make this a bigger deal than it already was, “it’s been a long day, we’re both tired, both of us can take the bed. It’s just one night, what’s the worst that could happen? We can go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist in the morning.”

Doyoung blinked back at you, processing your words before nodding slowly. He didn’t feel like arguing with you anyways, not when the last time he saw you was in a screaming match that lasted hours and had you storming out of his apartment. “Fine, I assume you’ll take the right side of the bed? You can have the extra pillow too.”

You stepped back, trying your best to not seem too shocked that he still remembered your sleeping preferences. “Yeah, thanks.”

Doyoung nodded in acknowledgement, before both of you tried to get as much of your night routines done without bothering the other. The silence in the hotel room was palpable, breaking every now and then by the sounds of water running, doors opening and closing, bare feet prodding on carpeted floors, shuffling about as you narrowly avoided looking at or bumping into each other.

This is only for tonight, you and Doyoung thought to yourselves.

“Good night, I guess.” You mumbled, as both of you turned off the lamps on your respective sides of the bed.

“Night.”

The two of you were submerged in darkness, the only whisper of light coming from the moon that peeked through the curtains. You and Doyoung retreated to opposite edges of the bed, leaving an obnoxious amount of space between the two of you as you slept on your sides. You shut your eyes, hoping that sleep would come to you as soon as possible.

It didn’t, but only because your thought kept drifting back to the man that lied beside you. It was almost impossible to keep your mind at bay, not when he was right there, just at arm’s reach — so close yet so far. You couldn’t help but look for the sound of his breathing, remembering how it used to comfort you on nights you had trouble sleeping, patterning your own breaths after his. Something in you wanted to turn around and face him, to lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer in the way he did before.

The truth was, you didn’t know the exact reason for your breakup. All you remembered was crying, screaming, eventually storming out. It was all the little moments that both of you held in, eventually bursting out when it was all too much to hold. All those late nights he came home from work late, the small seconds of jealousy that welled up between the two of you, all the cancelled plans, missed dates, moments of misunderstandings that never got brought up or resolved.

You groaned as quietly as you could, not wanting to wake Doyoung up if he was already asleep. Maybe it was the effect of a long and tiring day, maybe it was because you had just been at a wedding and love was in the air, maybe avoiding him the entire day wasn’t the right move, not when it only made you miss him more. You couldn’t help but want to reach out for him and little did you know he felt the exact same way.

Doyoung felt cold, a chill creeping up his spine, goosebumps littering the little areas of skin he had exposed. He could hear your sighs, the groans that escaped your lips, and Doyoung knew you were having trouble sleeping. He wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms, the warmth of your body pressed against his. When he spent years falling asleep with you close to him most nights, it was hard to forget all of that in a matter of months.

He remembered how his heart ached when he saw you lead yourself and Johnny away from him, when he saw you seated tables away with him, talking it up with Mark and Jaehyun. But it shattered when he saw you dancing with Yuta and Haechan, smile wider than he had ever seen before, looking like you were having the time of your life without him.

Doyoung didn’t know how you were only keeping it all in, pretending like it didn’t bother you.

You turned to lay on your back, eyes wide and wake, looking up at the ceiling. There was nothing to look at, everything was painted in a pale shade of gray. There’s shuffling beside you as Doyoung turned to lay on his back as well, hands neatly folded on his stomach.

“Can’t sleep, Yn?” He asked, eyes also fixated on the ceiling.

You shook your head but quickly realized he probably couldn’t see you, “No. I suppose you can’t either.”

“Any reason why?”

“Thinking…” You trailed off, afraid of what you’d say if he dared to ask more.

“About?”

You sighed, unsure if you should actually answer. There was never really any closure to your breakup, you could only remember leaving. “Us, like what exactly happened?”

There was a certain amount of vulnerability in your voice, it was quiet and soft, yet it still pierced through the air and rang in his ears. He couldn’t believe you, how could you ask him that?

“Yn, you left me.” Doyoung answered back, he tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice cracked at the final word, giving his true emotions away.

You deserved that, the little clench in your chest at the sadness in his voice. “But you didn’t go after me. You just let me leave. You let me go so easily.”

“Did you want me to go after you? Would you have taken me back if I did?” Doyoung turned on his side once again, now facing you, “I thought you were done with me.”

You kept your eyes on the ceiling, trying your best to ignore Doyoung’s piercing gaze. You couldn’t look at him, not when the guilt of your actions finally caught up with you. It was a selfish decision really, to leave so suddenly, not giving each other a chance to possibly work it out. You still don’t know why you had done it, or at least made no effort to contact him after, leaving both of you to just assume that things were over.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up.” You bring your hands up to your temple, trying to rub away the headache that was beginning to form. Should you say anything else? Did you even want to? Your chest tightened, feeling tears form in the corners of your eyes. You had spent the entire day keeping it in, spent the months after your breakup pretending that this was for the best, that this was what you wanted. The walls you built around yourself finally came crumbling down, “I just…I missed you. I can’t even remember why we broke up in the first place, why I left…”

You expected him to turn away, to tell you it was too little and far too late. Instead he reached out to you, the suddenness of his action had you yelping in surprise. He pulled you to his chest, closing the distance you had put between yourselves. Doyoung whispered, his breath ever so slightly tickling your ear, “I’m sorry for letting you leave.”

“No,” You shook your head against his chest, tears staining the white cotton shirt he chose to wear to bed, “I’m sorry for leaving in the first place.”

Doyoung didn’t say anything else, letting you cry into his chest as he rubbed comforting circles on your back. You calmed down after a few minutes, but you still gripped his shirt tightly, like you were afraid that you were going to lose him again if you didn’t.

It was quiet, but it wasn’t the same kind of silence that descended between the two of you earlier in the night. This silence was more peaceful, content. You could hear the sound of his heart beating, relaxing and consistent — lulling you to sleep. Doyoung felt your breath against his neck, warm and inviting, reminding him that you were once again in his arms. The heaviness in his chest that plagued him the past few weeks was suddenly gone, replaced with a sense of peacefulness.

“You know, something in me says that you didn’t cancel this hotel room on purpose.” Doyoung teased, knowing it would get some sort of reaction from you.

And it did. You groaned as you hit his chest, in the way you always did whenever he teased you when you were still together, your hand still lingering on his chest even after you hit him. Unfortunately, you exerted a little more force than you originally intended.

“Ouch!” He exclaimed, but you could tell he wasn’t actually hurt when you saw the ghost of a smile making its way to his lips, “Are you trying to flirt with me or start a fight?”

“Which would you prefer?”

“Definitely flirting.” Doyoung grinned, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

You hummed, content as sleep finally began to take its hold on you, “What happens now?”

“We can talk about it in the morning.” Doyoung kissed your temple, one hand running through your hair, “We should go to sleep.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, a content sigh escapes Doyoung’s lips. There was still so much left for the two of you to talk about, to actually work on if you wanted your relationship to last. But that was all to be discussed in the morning. Right now, for tonight and this very moment, Doyoung only decided on one thing: there was no way he was letting you leave again.

— thank you for visiting cafe amore ! feel like ordering something else? check the menu here.

274 notes · View notes

disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

Text

Aftershocks (2/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse.

summary: That bomb fucked you up a little more than you thought. h/c, fluff.

words: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ - canon typical violence, lots of medical stuff in this one.

a/n: unbeta’d. I had a surprise day off, so enjoy the second installment of Aftershocks much sooner than I had anticipated. More notes to follow!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

You’re escorted beyond the heavy double doors of the emergency department in a hurry. It probably has a lot to do with Javi busting into the waiting area with you in his arms, flashing his DEA badge and barking out orders in irate Spanish.

Honestly, you wish he wouldn’t make such a scene. Sitting still in the car had allowed you to catch your breath a little. You feel like shit, sure, but you’re pretty sure you aren’t actively dying.

Try telling him that, though.

The triage room is little more than a curtain masking a dimly lit corner. You’re answering what questions you can in halting Spanish, but Javi can see that you’re overwhelmed.

“Ella habla ingles.” His tone earns him a dirty look, but the nurse nods, placing an oxygen probe on your finger and frowning up at the monitor. Both of you follow her gaze, noticing that the number reads 87.

“The doctor will see you soon,” she says carefully. Her English is heavily accented, and suddenly, you’re grateful beyond words that you have Javi here to translate. “Here. You’ll wear this.” She winds the oxygen tubing beneath your chin and around your ears. The oxygen is dry, burning your nose and making your face twitch in annoyance, but you can’t deny that you feel better with it on.

The nurse leaves you then, pulling the curtain closed behind her. Javi continues to stare at the monitor with his arms folded across his chest as the number on the screen climbs to 89, then to 92, the soft tone of the blips rising in pitch with each subtle improvement.

He’s thinking again, you can tell.

“Javi?” You reach for his hand, tugging at his fingers. Instinctively, you know that leaving him alone to stew right now cannot be a good thing.

He glances down at you, all dark, glittering eyes and terse expression, and worry clinches in your gut. “You okay?”

Javi snorts. “Really, Ears.” You can just see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s a hell of a question, coming from you.”

You decide to shoot for levity. “I’m great, thanks for asking.”

That earns you a pathetic, lopsided lip twitch. You count it as a win anyway.

The doctor never shows. Javi grumbles and broods. A little while later, somebody comes with a wheelchair to whisk you away for an x-ray, and no matter how much blustering and badge-flashing and protesting he does, Javi is told firmly to stay put.

He’s pacing agitatedly in the hallway when return. Apparently, it had felt like an eternity for him.

In reality, you’d been gone less than twenty minutes.

It seems that your x-ray has earned you some attention, because things start happening a little faster now. People are in and out, one nurse bustling in to wordlessly draw an entire fistful of little color coded tubes of your blood, another working on IV access in your opposite arm. You take it all stoically, caught between watching in fascination as the nurse tapes the catheter in place with practiced efficiency and wondering why all of this can’t just happen in one stick.

A little while later, the same nurse returns with a bag of fluid. “Seca,” she informs you as she stretches to hang it on the hook in the wall.

“She says you’re dehydrated,” Javi translates. His face is a stone wall, the subtle clench of his jaw the only hint of the emotion that churns beneath. You can just imagine him kicking himself for not making you eat or drink.

You bite back a shiver. The saline is cold in your arm.

They move you to a real room not long after that. It’s only marginally bigger than your corner in the emergency department, crammed with two rickey, uncomfortable beds separated by another dingy curtain. Thankfully, you don’t have a roommate for the moment.

You let Javi handle the paperwork as you change out of his sweats and into the itchy, open-backed gown that you’ve been provided with. Even with the oxygen, moving around still requires that you pause to catch your breath, and you’re grateful for the opportunity to sit when you’re done, even if the hospital bed you’re on is squeaky and uncomfortable.

Once the documents are signed and the nurses are gone, silence settles thickly between you. Javi is standing with his fingers fisted into his hips, glaring daggers at the clock on the wall. He hasn’t spoken in a long time.

Again, you feel that burning need to pull him out of his head. “Not really set up for visitors, is it?” you ask wryly. It’s a stupid, pointless thing to say, but you’re just trying to fill the void.

Javi glances around the room, raising his brows at what he observes. There’s no chair and no free space, nowhere for him to sit. Sighing deeply, he yanks back the curtain that divides the room and eases carefully onto the bed opposite of you, leaning forward with his arms folded on his knees.

You grit your teeth. Really, you wouldn’t have minded him settling down on your bed, but the more time you spend with Javi, the more you’re starting to realize that he withdraws when he’s feeling wrong-footed. As annoying as it is, the distance he’s putting between you is just par for the course, and it’s just not worth addressing right now.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, pinning you with a sharp, assessing stare.

“Better,” you answer automatically, forcing some cheerfulness into your tone. Honestly, you’re far more worried about him than you are about you.

Javi raises a skeptical brow, clearly doubting you.

“No, really!”

Your protest makes him shake his head in dark amusement. “What am I gonna do with you, Ears?” he wonders aloud.

You’re ready to supply several very detailed answers to that question, all of them interrupted as your doctor finally breezes into the room.

“About fucking time,” Javi mutters under his breath as he rises to his feet.

“Hola, hola. I’m Dr. Perez.” Dr. Perez says, actually managing to sound a tiny bit apologetic. “Forgive the delay, por favor. I know it must seem that emergencies are the most non-emergent situation in the hospital, but, I promise you, we are working hard behind the scenes.”

You decide immediately that you like Dr. Perez. He’s not a big man, compact and clean cut, with just the faintest dusting of silver at his temples and a warm, genuine smile.

Javi must be thinking along similar lines, because he comes to stand just at the edge of your shoulder, looming dark and foreboding at your side as Dr. Perez approaches your bedside.

Oh, now you’ll stick close, you think fondly, trying to find a little amusement in Javi’s behavior. Everything about this situation is entirely new, totally incongruous with the cool, suave Javier Peña that you thought you’d known, and a malicious, possessive part of your brain is just eating up the implications.

“I understand you were involved in the bombing in downtown Bogotá, correct?” Dr. Perez’s grip is firm and cool as he shakes your hand.

“Yes, that’s correct.” You’re acutely aware of Javi standing stiffly beside you, watching your every move.

“Most unfortunate,” Perez shakes his head in a show of sympathy, and you manage to believe him. “And the breathing problems, they began later, no?”

“Yes,” you answer, surprised that he would guess with such accuracy. “I was okay afterward. Maybe a little bit sore. But not hurt.”

“Ella ha estado tosiendo sangre,” Javi interjects quickly. You’re not sure what he’s saying, but Dr. Perez’s eyes flicker in his direction, a swift, meaningful look passing between them.

“Veo.” Dr. Perez says smoothly. He frowns down at you. “And how for were you from the blast zone?”

You think back, willing yourself to relive the memory of the morning in clinical detail. “I was crossing the street,” you say slowly. “Headed home.” You do some quick mental math in your head, analyzing the width of Circular against the image of Emilio, waving. You’d been close enough to shout a greeting. “Forty feet. Maybe a little less.”

Beside you, Javi sucks in a sharp breath.

Perez purses his lips. “Sí, eso lo haría.” He crosses the room, flicking a switch to illuminate a bright white panel built into the wall that you hadn’t noticed before. He shuffles through your chart, pulling out a dark film and pinning it to the light.

It’s your chest x-ray. You can clearly see the curve of your ribs, stark white against the darker background of your lungs. In the middle of the film lies the dusky outline of what you assume is your heart. To the lower left, a patch of hazy, white blur mars the image.

“This is the problem.” Perez points to the blur. “Pulmones magullados. Your lungs are bruised, see? This is common in blast zone survivors. The change in air pressure when the bomb ignites causes an injury to the lung tissue. You are bleeding just a little bit internally.”

You can damn near feel Javi gritting his teeth at that.

“But I felt fine,” you protest weakly, looking assentingly at the blob on the x-ray. It’s a pretty good size.

“Sí, you were fine.” Perez is nodding along with you, like he’d expected the argument. “That’s normal with this type of injury. You felt good immediately afterward because the bruise was new, the bleeding slight. But the bruise has gotten bigger, and you have gotten worse.” He indicates the oxygen that you are wearing with a grim nod. “You are a very lucky, mi amiga, to have walked away from that. Muy afortunada. Had you been closer…” Perez trails off, shaking his head somberly. “It does not bear thinking.”

He claps his hands, startling you away from the grisly images stirring in your mind. “There is good news, though!” Perez gestures toward the x-ray as a whole, circling over it with his index finger. “I see no rib fractures, nothing collapsed. Your breathing might get worse before it gets better, but it will get better. We will keep you under close watch until then.”

“Keep me?”

“Sí, you will be here.” Perez pins you with a no-nonsense stare, as if to curtail any protests before they come. “There’s another matter. You have a small concussion as well. To this area, here.” He taps the back of his own head with his hand. “From falling down, yes?”

You nod. The area he’s pointing to is right where your head hurts most, where you’d fallen backward after the blast. “Yes. It did knock me off my feet.” Apparently a with a little more force than you’d initially assumed.

Perez hums. “We will monitor that as well. You do not take blood thinners?”

“No, sir. No medications.”

“Bueno.” Dr. Perez seems genuinely pleased by this. “You’ve made my job very easy.” He gathers the film and shuffles it back into your chart, flopping it shut with a flourish. “Rest for you, Orejas. Time and sleep will do the best healing.”

“Orejas?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the name that Emilio had used for you, but you’re shocked that Perez knows it.

Perez smiles. “I listen to my nurses. That is what they call you.”

“How much time?” Javi interrupts before you can respond. You’d nearly forgotten about him, as quiet as he’s been.

Perez turns to address him for the first time. “It depends largely on her body. The concussion is small, and won’t require anything in the way of treatment. Her lungs, though…” Perez frowns down at the closed chart with a furrowed brow. “The contusion is still developing. A few days, a week, perhaps? I can say more tomorrow.” He turns back to you, sighing in sympathy. “I’m afraid you’re in for a stay, mi amiga.”

Well, fuck.

With that, Perez disappears just as quickly as he’d arrived, soft, quick footsteps echoing down the hallway, and silence falls once again over the room.

Javi doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He’s standing very still, arms folded tightly across his chest with his thumbs digging into his armpits. The expression on his face is downright chilling.

Your blood turns to ice.

“What the fuck, Ears?” he says very slowly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision.

You glance up, suddenly hesitant to speak. The little movement must be enough to spur him on, though, because Javi fucking explodes.

“Forty fucking feet!” he bites out, clawing angrily at his hair. He paces the tiny room, whirling as he runs out of space and pointing an accusing finger at you. “You told me you were across the street, Ears, not crossing it. There’s a big fucking difference.”

You blink at him, recalling the conversation you’d had in the embassy parking lot.

Shit, he’s right.

“Why the hell did you lie to me?” There’s a subtle warble in his tone, a flicker of devastation in his eyes that’s quickly masked.

Discomfort that has nothing to do with your injured lungs twinges in your chest. “I don’t know,” you answer miserably. You hadn’t thought of it as lying. At the time, you’d been overwhelmed by the situation and thoroughly confused by Javi’s erratic behavior, just desperate to get home and sleep off the worst morning of your life. “I didn’t want to upset you, I guess.”

Javi laughs sarcastically. “Well, you’ve done a fucking fantastic job of that, haven’t you?” He throws his hands in the air, like he’s had it up to here with your shit. “Coughing up blood all over my kitchen floor. Christ, I should have known.”

Okay, now he’s being a little dramatic - the only blood you’d coughed up had been into your fingers, after all, but the protest is lost on you as you look him in the face. Javi’s eyes are deeply shadowed, his expression pained, his hair standing wildly from where he’s run his fingers through it.

He looks thoroughly exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, dropping your gaze to the floor.

Javi huffs and looks away, clearly not ready to accept any apologies from you.

You don’t blame him. Throughout this entire screwed up relationship, you’ve done an absolutely piss poor job of putting yourself in Javi’s shoes, and it’s coming back to bite you in the ass.

You deserve his irritation, and more.

Javi’s pager beeps, the shrill sound of it slicing through the tension. He snatches it roughly off of his belt, frowning down at the display with squinted eyes.

You glance up at the clock on the wall. It’s pretty late, but given the day Javi’s had, it’s not outrageous to assume that somebody would need to be in touch with him at this hour.

“I’ve got to take this,” Javi says tonelessly, hardly glancing up at you. If there’s any regret there, it’s buried very deeply. “I’ll see you later, Ears.”

He’s gone before you can get a word in edgewise.

♠

confessions/notes:

I speak one language poorly, and I’ve never extensively written a character who is not a primary English speaker (I’m not counting Javi here). Any critiques or corrections to my Spanish are very welcomed!

Up next: a look at things from Javi’s POV.

Spanish translations:

She speaks English.

Dry

She’s been coughing up blood.

I see.

Yeah, that’ll do it.

ears

tags:@jedi-mando, @perropascal, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me

To my taglist peeps, I’m sorry for tagging you guys three times in 24 hours. Again, chaotic jay cannot plan anything, like ever.

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña #narcos #pedro pascal #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfic #reader insert #hurt/comfort #fluff #narcos netflix #narcos fanficiton #narcos fanfic #better love #aftershocks

238 notes · View notes

pregnant-piggy · 3 years

Text

Snowed in

Hermione Granger x reader

this is part of All I want for Christmas is fanfiction

this is written for @coffee--writes writing challenge

words: 2.1k

A/N: I love the snow, but sadly it rarely snows anymore where I live. I would absolutely not mind if I got snowed in with my crush and I would mind even less when it was Hermione

prompt: ‘Why can’t you just tell me how you feel?’ ‘It’s not that simple’

It was dark when you woke up. But not dark because the sun hadn’t risen yet, you realised when you looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was dark because there was something covering the windows and it were not your curtains.

You stepped out of bed and immediately were greeted by an embrace of coldness. It felt like stepping into an ice bath on a hot day. Frantically searching for warm clothes, you hopped closer to the window on one leg, as the other was in the air trying to put your pants on. You pushed the curtains aside and saw nothing but snow.

The whole window was blocked by a layer of snow. The light barely came through the blockage, only through the spots where the layer of snow was thinner. Your bedroom was lit up only by a hazy, pale light.

You opened the window and watched the layer of snow slide down the glass and fall down on the snow on the ground. With a jolt you noticed that the snow was not really on the ground, but it had built up to halfway through the windows on the downstairs floor.

There was movement in the shadows on the snow and you realised that Hermione must have gotten up already. Quickly you closed your window and got dressed further, so you could go downstairs.

‘Good morning, y/n,’ Hermione said when you opened the door to the kitchen.

‘Morning,’ you mumbled back. You sat down at the table and reached for an apple.

‘We’re snowed in,’ Hermione said and she pointed at the windows behind her. The same kind of snow that had been covering your window, blocked half the windows. All you could see outside was the light grey sky and the tops of the white trees that stood at the edge of the garden.

You walked closer to the window and stood beside Hermione. You took a bite of the apple and stared outside. Hermione turned around to the window too and she stood with her shoulder against yours. Her body warmth brought the heat that you were so desperately trying to find this morning.

‘I don’t think we can go anywhere,’ Hermione said and you nodded slowly.

‘Yeah, no, the door must be frozen shut,’ you mumbled.

Hermione’s low hum, made your inside turn and you stepped away from her. Your fingers shut around the apple you were holding tightly and you took a deep breath.

‘Are you alright?’ Hermione asked worried and you flashed her a smile.

‘I’m fine, I just- I don’t know, I think I pulled a muscle when I stepped out of bed or something,’ you lied, rubbing your leg to make it more believable.

‘Can I feel? Because I had the same a while ago and I found a way to relieve the pressure on it…’ Hermione said and she came closer to you.

‘No!’ you quickly said and Hermione’s face cramped together at your loud voice. ‘No, I mean- I think I’m fine. I just… I’m going to put something warmer on, I’m cold.’

You left the kitchen swiftly and tried to ignore the sting in your chest that you got from being so mean to your friend. But you just had to. You were afraid that if you let her come close to you she would notice that there was more than just innocent platonic feelings on your side. The friendship you had with Hermione was one of the most cherished things you had and you didn’t want to lose it. The fear of losing her was bigger than the courage to confess.

In the safety of your bedroom you let out a loud sigh and dropped on your bed. You despised yourself for your behaviour. You wished there was a way to get rid of the feelings, but they only seemed to be getting more intense. Tears pooled in your eyes as you thought of the sad face of Hermione. You didn’t want to hurt her, but you also didn’t want to get hurt.

Maybe you fell asleep or maybe you just stared at the ceiling for a while but after some time Hermione knocked on your door and she came in. She sat down next to you and stroke your hair lovingly. You closed your eyes at the warm touch of her hand and for a moment you let yourself enjoy.

‘I’m sorry,’ you muttered and opened your eyes. Hermione was staring out of the window and you only saw one side of her face. She said nothing but you could see the glimmering of the tears in her eyes.

You sat up and wrapped your arm around her shoulders. She looked at you and smiled sadly. You pulled her close and rubbed circles on her back. ‘I’m sorry,’ you said. ‘The snow just stresses me out a little. We don’t know how long it will last. I shouldn’t have outed that on you, sorry.’

Hermione looked up at you and smiled more genuinely. She sniffed and you wiped the tears from her face, trying so hard to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You felt your cheeks growing hot and you hoped to all the spirits in the world that Hermione wouldn’t notice.

‘Come on, let’s go do something fun!’ Hermione said with a happy grin on her face.

* * * * *

The rest of the day you spent watching films and baking cookies with Hermione. It was nice to once do something without the stress of your normal daily life. It was for the first in a long time that you fully relaxed, though at all times still careful not to get too close or not to stare too long.

Over time you had learned how to suppress your feelings for your best friend. Day after day you had pushed them down, hidden them from everyone. There was no one who knew about your crush and no one who suspected anything. At least, that you knew of.

A day passes quickly when you do nothing. Before you knew it, it was after dinner and you were sitting on the couch under a blanket, staring mindlessly at the film that was playing on the TV. While the main character confessed his undying love for woman whose life he had saved, Hermione sighed happily next to you.

There was so little space between you two that you could feel the warmth radiating from her arm. A part of you wanted to get closer to her, but the other part of you wanted to be on the other side of the couch. You longed to hold her closer, but you feared she would notice. As your mind and heart were in battle you lost focus on the film and your surroundings. All you noticed was the warmth on the left side of your body and the angel and devil on your shoulders.

But the battle was stopped when Hermione put her head on your shoulder. As a reflex, that was the result of the inner battle, you pulled away. Hermione’s head shot back up and without thinking you got up from the couch and walked to the window.

There was someone in your head screaming at you, cursing you for your brute response, and that voice sounded an awful lot like your own voice. A shiver went through you and for a moment it seemed like you were going to break down just right there, like you would fall through the ice and drown in the cold water.

But a warm hand held you above the surface. Hermione’s soft hand on your shoulder was enough for you to hold yourself together. Or maybe she held you together.

‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’ Hermione whispered as she watched the snow.

You looked at her and hummed a response. The contours of her face were lit up by the light of the setting sun reflecting on the white snow outside. The lines of her face were as a golden thread spun around the beauty of her appearance.

Hermione’s eyes were still fixated on the snow outside as she spoke to you. ‘Why can’t you just tell me how you feel?’

Staring at your hands you swallowed. You should have known that she would eventually see through you.

‘It’s not that simple,’ you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sounds from the TV.

‘It is,’ Hermione said and she turned to you. She took your hands, forcing you to look up to her. ‘You make it more complicated than it is. Please tell me.’

You closed your eyes and shook your head. For a moment you felt like a small child, not knowing how to put your feelings to words. There was a fire inside you spitting words to your mouth, but they didn’t leave your lips.

‘I don’t know how to,’ you whispered. Your throat was squeezed shut by the tears that were threatening to fall. There was a lump in your stomach but you knew that if there was ever a moment you had to confess, this was it.

‘Take your time,’ Hermione said and you took a deep breath. Her hands were rubbing up and down your arms softly and when the first tear fell she was quick to wipe it away.

It was now or nothing and you decided to throw it all out in the simplest way possible. You feared for the outcome, but this was what eventually would give you peace.

‘I love you.’

With closed eyes you listened to the silence that followed after. The music from the TV at the subtitles of the film was the only sound that was in the room. You couldn’t even hear Hermione’s breathing and you were pretty sure you had stopped breathing yourself too.

The hands on your arms had stopped moving and the fingers were drilling into your skin. The warmth from them had disappeared and your arms grew numb the longer the silence lasted. You didn’t dare to open your eyes, afraid that you would be faced with your worst nightmare. You couldn’t lose Hermione, you just couldn’t, but now you feared that you had messed it all up.

After what felt like hours there were more sounds in the room. Hermione’s breathing got deeper and you could hear your own breathing too. The warmth from her hands got back on your skin and sparkles were sent throughout your entire body.

‘I love you too.’

All the dark wall around you collapsed and you stood in the clouds. The sun was shining brightly on your face, warming up your entire body. The beams fell on your cheeks like soft hands caressing your skin.

Before you had opened your eyes you felt two soft lips brushing over yours, forming a smile as your hands found Hermione’s hips. Her hands went from your arms to behind your neck and she pulled you closer, pressing her lips to yours.

It wasn’t fireworks, it wasn’t electricity or sparkles but it was ethereal. It was the softest silk and the most velvety clouds. It had the taste of cherries and rosé wine, the scent of peony roses. It was a kiss in the sky, above the tops of the highest trees and passed the mountaintops. It was higher than the clouds, in the pink light of the setting sun.

It felt like all your dreams had come true and for a moment there wasn’t any fear anymore. Hermione and you were all that mattered in that moment, nothing more, nothing less. A bubble of protection and trust was built around you and there was nothing that could burst it.

As you pulled away you could only smile. Hermione’s plump lips smiled back at you and you wished that this moment would stay forever, that the time would stand still and nothing had to change.

There was so much that you wanted to ask, but all that passed your lips was a content sigh that was answered with another kiss. Hermione’s hands raked through your hair and your fingers squeezed her hips lightly. One tap of her tongue against your lips was enough for you to open your mouth more. The divine feeling rushed through you in waves, knocking you off your feet further with every second that passed. It felt like your legs would bail on you, but you didn’t care.

Hermione would be there to catch you.

- - - - - - -

taglist

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna @kylosleftbuttcheek @mrs-malfoy-always @thefandomplace @magicwithaknife @mt2413 @aesthetically-hailey @superbturtlemakerathlete @the-natureofme @missswriter @hahee154hq @chloer1275

#coffees800wc #all i want for christmas is fanfiction #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger imagine #hermione granger #hermione x reader #hermione imagine #hermione #harry potter x reader #harry potter #hp

171 notes · View notes

archerdaryl · 3 years

Text

Peppermint Sugar.

You’ve been tasked with decorating the Christmas cookies while Carol is out on a hunt. It would have gone just fine if the archer hadn’t shown up.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Tags: more cute christmas vibes, sfw, fluffy and fun but still a little slow burn Word Count: 2.5k Notes: This one-shot follows on from London in Your Eyes! I’m thinking about turning it into a little collection of Christmas fics that all link together. As always I would love to hear your thoughts. ♥

You’d been at Carol’s house for barely ten minutes and you were already overwhelmed.

The air was thick and sweet like molasses, a pleasant surprise that was almost enough to soften the visual overload that was waiting for you in the kitchen. There were trays upon trays of cookies sitting on almost every counter space you could see. You had happily agreed to help decorate while she went out on a run with Ezekial and his knights, but good God.

There were at least a hundred cookies there. And they all needed expertly icing.

You approached the kitchen island slowly, eyebrows knitted together as you cursed under your breath. You can’t have been the only person she asked. Especially considering you weren’t exactly artistically inclined. Sure, a snowman was simple and you could probably figure out how to ice a Christmas tree adequately enough, but a couple of the shapes you couldn’t even identify.

“She’s lost her fucking mind.” The words escaped you in a mumble, followed by a long exhale.

Looking back you weren’t sure why you agreed to this in the first place. Maybe it was the assumption you wouldn’t be stuck here alone at 7am or that it would only be a few cookies you could hide at the bottom of the pile. You couldn’t have been more wrong, but you were at least relieved that you didn’t bother to change out of your yoga pants for the occasion considering you were going to be standing there decorating for hours.

Eventually you accepted that simply staring at the endless trays of cookies wasn’t actually going to do anything and you moved towards the stove to boil some water for coffee. While you waited for it to bubble, you organised the trays according to cookie shape and decided to start on what you could only assume were snowflakes.

How could you possibly mess those up? All you needed was white icing. If by some miracle Carol had got her hands on some food colouring, maybe you could be real fancy and mix a little blue in too.

You continued to wipe down the counters, dusting off remnants of flour before placing the first tray in front of you. You soon found a set of instructions left behind by Carol and you would be lying if you didn’t say you were relieved. You followed them, grabbing everything you needed and mixing up some sort of concoction that resembled a very basic icing.

Carol had to have chosen you for a reason. You hoped she had more faith in you than you did in yourself.

She had to, because you were already bored and you had barely begun.

And then the door swung open, almost making you jump.

“Oh my god, my very own knight in shining armour.”

Daryl Dixon stopped in his tracks and stared at you in confusion.

“Wha’?”

“I could settle for scrap metal.” You grumbled.

He narrowed his eyes before hesitantly moving his way through the house, eventually disappearing into the basement with Dog trailing along behind him. You mumbled a rather sarcastic goodbye before grabbing a ziplock bag and carefully spooning the icing into the bottom right corner, following Carol’s instructions as closely as possible.

“Thought you were huntin’ today.” Daryl shouted as he climbed back up the stairs.

“I was supposed to be. Carol wanted me to do… well, this.” You gestured to the mountain of cookies behind you and tried to hide your disdain. Dog happily padded towards you and demanded neck scratches by pushing his snout against your legs. Naturally, you obliged.

“On yer’ own?”

His crystalline gaze traced your form as he leaned onto the opposite side of the kitchen island. You were in an old hoodie, hardly form fitting but the dark red hue complimented your eyes, and there was a dusting of icing sugar across your cheek. He smiled ever so slightly, but said nothing.

“Unless you’re offering to keep me company, yeah, it looks like it.”

The pair of you hadn’t spent much time together since the Christmas fair. Keeping food stocks up was more important than ever with the snow being as heavy as it was, and the fact The King insisted on an extravagant Christmas celebration wasn’t helping anyone’s work load. Keeping busy kept you both from thinking about that stolen moment of innocent intimacy, though Daryl still found himself staring at you just a little bit longer with his fists clenched every time you crossed paths.

He was chasing the sensation of your hand in his without even knowing it.

“Ain’t got much else t’ do,” He lied, shrugging and leaning further onto the countertop with his forearms, “Watchin’ you fuck up might be fun.”

You didn’t bother glaring at him, your hands went straight for the icing sugar, picking it up in a pinch and flicking it right into his face before turning to find some scissors. You heard him splutter and blow hard, as if that alone could erase your act of vengeance.

“Don’ start somethin’ you can’t finish girl.”

You snorted and returned to your original position at the kitchen island, your grin widening after seeing the mess you made of him.

“I think you look great.” You insisted, “As ruggedly handsome as always.”

Daryl’s lips thinned in faux annoyance, though his eyes betrayed him. He was unable to come up with a retort of his own. He was stuck on two words in particular.

Ruggedly handsome.

He knew you were being sarcastic, you had a habit of that, but it still made him feel a little embarrassed. If not for the icing sugar speckled across his face, you likely would have noticed him blush a little.

“Handsome huh?”

Daryl had never been one to concern himself too much with the way he looked. He could never afford to and there certainly wasn’t any point anymore with the world in the state it was. However, in that moment he realised that when it came to you, he felt a sense of insecurity previously unknown to him.

“Oh yeah. I’m super into the whole dandruff thing.” You teased further, gesturing to the sugar speckled in his hair.

He rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off the island counter, “You talk too much.”

You had thrown him off on purpose. You had no choice. You couldn’t stand there and lie to him to protect yourself from the feelings you constantly tried to bury. Daryl Dixon was many things but ugly was not a word that ever came to mind. Yet, you couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him he looked like home either.

“C’mon. Carol will kill me if I don’t get something done.”

Daryl wasn’t sure what exactly it was he was supposed to be doing, but he was perfectly happy to be there even with the nerves causing havoc in his stomach. Anyone else would have considered them butterflies, but he wasn’t exactly a teenager dealing with a high school crush.

He met you behind the island and towered over you at your side. You forced yourself to concentrate on the task at hand, continuing to spoon icing into the ziploc bag. As he watched your hands at work, he leant down onto folded forearms and chewed the inside of his bottom lip absentmindedly

How did they look even softer than before?

He supposed it was because you were inside where it was warm, nuzzled within that oversized hoodie of yours. Was the rest of you as soft as your hands? He lost himself for a moment wondering what it would be like to fall asleep against your chest, your heartbeats perfectly in sync.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Quickly clearing his throat, he took his index finger and scooped up a blob of icing before you could steal it away with your spoon. He savoured the sweetness as he sucked it off his finger and then looked up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

This was the most time they had spent together in days and he wasn’t about to ruin it by getting caught up in shit that didn't, no, couldn’t matter.

“Don’ start somethin’ you can’t finish girl.”

You met his gaze, eyes briefly drifting to his sugar sweet lips before you allowed a smirk to tug at the corners of your own.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Dixon.”

“Oh yeah?” He replied, cocking a brow before going in for a second scoop of icing.

Before you could even try to swat him away, Daryl had gotten his hands on the bowl and darted out of reach. Though his mischief may have been a distraction from his wandering thoughts, you were none the wiser. To you, this was one of those rare moments where he let his guard down enough to act a fool without wanting to beat himself up about it. You couldn’t be pissed even if you wanted to.

Grabbing the bag of powdered sugar, you immediately rushed after him, eager to make an even bigger mess than you already had. You followed him into the lounge where he had collapsed onto the couch, making himself comfortable and continuing to scoop out sticky white icing with his fingers.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You whined, unable to keep an amused grin from tugging at the corners of your mouth, “Don’t think I won’t ruin this couch.”

Daryl looked up at you and allowed a snort of amusement to escape him. He didn’t doubt you for a minute, but he didn’t care about decorating no cookies and he knew you didn’t either so it wasn’t like he felt particularly guilty about the matter.

You stood your ground, your hand venturing into the bag of powdered sugar. Daryl watched you carefully and weighed up his choices, which didn’t take long at all because he soon found himself leaning forward to grab your forearm, pulling you down onto the couch with him in a poor attempt to keep you from attacking again.

What he didn’t consider was the bag of sugar doing a somersault out of your hands and creating an even bigger mess anyway.

“Ah, shit!” He groused.

You landed awkwardly on him, having to adjust yourself so that you were flat on your back while he was laying on his side next to you with his arm bent to prop up his head. You quickly found yourselves coughing and having to wave your arms as you tried to dissipate the cloud of sugar, which mostly landed in a little hill on the rug but had still managed to leave heavy traces all over you.

“This,” You gestured to your hoodie and the mess around you, “- is on you.”

“Fuck that, I weren’t the one chasing me with sugar.”

After a futile attempt of wiping down your stomach with your hands, you turned your head to look at Daryl with a frown. You didn’t realise how close you were to each other until you met his eyes, which almost made you trip up on your words. You didn’t remember them being that blue.

“You’d really leave me to fend for myself like that?” You pouted.

Daryl opened his mouth to speak but the words got stuck in the back of his throat. You were so close. Too close. He could smell the sweetness on your skin, paired with peppermint which he could only assume was your toothpaste or some sort of lip balm.

“Carol won’t get mad at her pookie.”

He reached for the pillow by his legs but didn’t follow through on the threat as you quickly grabbed his arm and pulled it back towards you.

“I’m kidding!” You practically shrieked, his arm resting over your stomach with your fingers still wrapped around it to keep him from going for the pillow again, “Well, actually…”

“Stop.”

“It’s true and you know it. Please don’t leave me with this.”

Daryl went a little stiff. He wanted to pull away. He could feel the warmth of your body against his, could see each individual eyelash, and, fuck, those fingers of yours were wrapped around his arm. He was almost afraid to breathe. He didn’t want to take up more space than he already had.

You had spent many sleepless nights at each other’s sides in the past, either in temporary shelter while on a run or for comfort when things got bad. You had not, however, been this wrapped up in one another. Not in the slightest. He only had to put his head down for you to take him into your arms, and the thought of that alone was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

Once again, something had shifted and those uncharted waters were only getting deeper.

“Ya’ know, Dog can be pretty bad sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

Your eyes were locked and the words spilled from each of your lips slowly. Your grip on his forearm softened but you made no effort to let him go. In that moment it seemed as if you only saw each other and that the wall you insisted on keeping up was starting to crumble. It was only a matter of time before one of you rebuilt it, but right then, right in that moment, you could have laid there forever.

You wanted to know what he was thinking, if his thoughts were as scrambled as yours. You felt safe at Daryl's side, as if nothing could ever hurt you again, and you found yourself wanting him to pull you in closer.

God, he was already so close. One of you only had to lean in.

“Yeah. Carol don’t gotta know.”

“But the cookies…”

“Can’t ice no cookies without icin’.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Daryl wet his bottom lip with his tongue and he could have sworn your eyes lowered to his mouth for just a second. He wanted to be put out of his misery. He felt like a damn school girl losing his head over someone he couldn’t have. You hadn’t approached this - whatever this is - for a reason but he wasn’t feeling very reasonable anymore.

Did your mouth taste as sweet as his? Would the peppermint make his lips tingle?

All he had to do was lean in.

Then, the unmistakable sound of the front door being opened echoed throughout the house. You both froze and confusion turned to horror when Carol eventually called out to you, claiming the weather had taken a turn for the worst.

You sat up on your elbows, eyebrows knitted together in worry whilst Daryl went completely silent, both annoyed and embarrassed that Carol had trespassed in her own home. You were mortified, there wasn’t a damn thing to show for your time there other than icing sugar everywhere, but you were also a little relieved - not because you didn’t want to be pinned in place next to him, but because you were finally able to take a full breath.

“Quick.” Daryl muttered, “Out the back.”

“But -”

Daryl didn’t give you a chance to argue. He quickly but carefully climbed up off of the couch and grabbed your hand without hesitation, squeezing it tight and pulling you along towards the back of the house where you could both escape.

You squeezed back, a childish grin growing across your sugar dusted face as your hand fit perfectly into his once more.

#the walking dead #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon ff #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #mine #my fic #christmas fic #christmas

173 notes · View notes

zintranslations · 3 years

Text

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 78

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Link to ongoing Taida Translations

Chapter 78: Accident

Tan Zaozao came to visit and asked after Ruan Nanzhu with heartfelt care. The entire time however, Ruan Nanzhu pretty much blew her off.

"How was your fourth door?" Lin Qiushi asked casually as he sat on the side with nothing to do.

"My fourth door?" Tan Zaozao scratched at her head. "Alright, I guess…" She didn't seem keen on talking about the world of the doors, quickly circumventing the topic.

Seeing this, Lin Qiushi didn't ask any further either.

The television hanging on the hospital wall would occasionally play one of Tan Zaozao's perfume commercials. Onscreen, her noble glamor looked completely beyond this world. Lin Qiushi eyed the commercials, then eyed the woman scrunched up next to Ruan Nanzhu, who had her face buried in a mango and yellow fruit flesh smeared all over her mouth. He fell into a peculiar silence.

Tan Zaozao clearly guessed Lin Qiushi's thoughts from his expression, and bellowed, "stop staring, it's all fake anyways!"

Lin Qiushi, "oh…"

Tan Zaozao peered at Lin Qiushi, and asked with malice: "Are there any stars you're a particularly big fan of?"

Lin Qiushi answered frankly: "No." He didn't do the fan thing.

Tan Zaozao, disappointed, "that's a shame. I could've gotten you an autograph or something." I might've even had gossip to completely ruin your image of that person…

As they chatted, a breaking news report appeared on the TV, saying some star had a car accident on his way to a concert and died on the scene. It even showed footage of an awful car crash.

Tan Zaozao, who'd been working on her mango, suddenly looked up, seeming lost.

"He…"

Ruan Nanzhu, lying on the bed, asked quietly, "you knew him?"

Tan Zaozao nodded.

She put down the mango in her hand and spoke lowly, "he seems to be someone from the doors too. We filmed a commercial together, but we weren't close or anything…"

Lin Qiushi watched Tan Zaozao, whose mood had clearly fallen.

"Then he began to have all these accidents." Tan Zaozao talked, speaking quite slowly. "During a concert, a light fell from directly above his head, but he only had minor injuries. And other things as well. I had my suspicions then…"

"Maybe it really is just an accident?" Lin Qiushi frowned. "It might not be the doors…"

"It's probably the doors," Tan Zaozao sighed, clearly down. "I'm heading out. Take care of yourselves."

Despite seeing her like this, Lin Qiushi didn't know how to make her feel better. In the end he could only watch her hurry off.

Ruan Nanzhu's expression remained calm the entire time Tan Zaozao was leaving. Lin Qiushi said, "she's okay, right?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "she's fine. She'll be over it in a couple of days."

Lin Qiushi had always thought of Tan Zaozao as quite an optimistic person. To see her break down so unexpectedly like this…

Even though before the actual breakdown, she'd taken off.

Faced with Lin Qiushi's lack of comprehension, Ruan Nanzhu asked, with some surfacing exasperation: "You've really never liked anybody in particular?"

Lin Qiushi thought carefully, then slowly but surely shook his head.

"No. My family's never been close. As far as I recall… Yeah, I've never really liked anyone."

Since youth, the number of friends he had could be counted on two hands. It was precisely because of this that he had been able to leave behind his hometown to come work here with little hesitation.

"But girls must have liked you." Ruan Nanzhu spoke with absolute certainty. "Unless you've never received a confession before?"

Ruan Nanzhu didn't believe at all that with his personality and appearance, Lin Qiushi hadn't been well-received by women.

"Well sure, I've received confessions, but I turned them all down," Lin Qiushi answered.

Ruan Nanzhu, "how come?"

Lin Qiushi, "because I couldn't give them what they wanted."

Ruan Nanzhu frowned. "How did you know you couldn't?"

Lin Qiushi quieted for a while, before answering softly, "because I didn't like them."

Ruan Nanzhu couldn't help a laugh: "You're self-aware."

Lin Qiushi smiled. "I couldn't delay their lives, they're all good women."

Lin Qiushi was indeed a warm person. If he met someone who needed help, he would do all he could to provide aid. But his kindness wasn't limitless either. To put it bluntly, he would never help others by sacrificing himself; he had a thorough comprehension of his own capabilities, and would never request others to do things outside of the scopes of their abilities either.

A kind, clever person who knew how to accurately assess the situation was bound to be attractive.

Ruan Nanzhu slowly closed his eyes. The things that attracted him to Lin Qiushi however, didn't stop there.

Seeing Ruan Nanzhu shut his eyes, Lin Qiushi thought he must be tired. He stood up from the bedside and quietly left the hospital room. As he did so he spotted Cheng Qianli, who was just coming back with the washed lychees.

"Why are you out here?" Cheng Qianli asked.

"Don't go in," Lin Qiushi said. "He's resting now. Zaozao's left too."

Cheng Qianli, "oh, then what about the lychee?"

Lin Qiushi glanced at it.

"Just leave it. Bring it in when he wakes up, or just eat it yourself."

Cheng Qianli, "nah, I won't. Ruan-ge seems to really like lychee."

At this, Lin Qiushi was suddenly curious.

"What else does he like, besides lychee?"

He had been living together with Ruan Nanzhu for a while now, but still knew little to nothing about Ruan Nanzhu's likes and dislikes.

Cheng Qianli, "what he likes? He likes plenty of things." He looked at the lychee, then looked at Lin Qiushi. "He seems to like you a lot too."

Lin Qiushi, "what, and he doesn't like you?"

Cheng Qianli giggled, "hehehe true that, 'cause I'm adorable."

Lin Qiushi thought oh, you're really just shameless.

During the time of Ruan Nanzhu's convalescence, many people from other organizations came to visit. Well, they said visit. "To gather information" was more accurate. After all, a ten-door top honcho like Ruan Nanzhu was a rare sight to see.

White Deer's Li Dongyuan came by without any sense of shame as well. Though Ruan Nanzhu agreed to let him in, Ruan Nanzhu didn't spare him any kind looks the entire time.

Lin Qiushi was seated by Ruan Nanzhu's bedside, peeling lychees for him to eat. He'd part his mouth ever-so-slightly for the milky fruit to pass between his pale lips. Then, after some neat chewing, he'd open his mouth again and Lin Qiushi would bring the plate over to catch the black seed his tongue pushed out out.

This entire eating process was exceedingly elegant. Watching Ruan Nanzhu, Lin Qiushi suddenly understood what Tan Zaozao had meant when she said beautiful people ought to eat lychee.

Li Dongyuan sat just beside him, all friendly grins on that baby face of his. He really was very different outside the door. He said, "Nanzhu ah…"

Ruan Nanzhu shot him a glare from out the corner of his eyes.

So Li Dongyuan could only change his tune: "Ruan-ge, Ruan-ge, are you doing well?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "you can't see for yourself? Say what you came to say."

Li Dongyuan turned and glanced at Lin Qiushi.

Ruan Nanzhu understood his meaning, gaze shuttering.

"No need to keep it from him."

Li Dongyuan, "I'm going into my ninth door soon, so you know, is there…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "no. Get out."

Li Dongyuan, "…"

Lin Qiushi wanted to laugh, but thought it'd be inappropriate. So he kept his head down and pretended to be very seriously peeling lychee.

"Don't be so mean." Li Dongyuan had begun to pout. "I'm not even holding it against you, you know, the time when you pretended to be my lover Zhu Meng."

With those big watery eyes of his, Lin Qiushi was reminded of Cheng Qianli's husky…

But Ruan Nanzhu had a heart of steel and was utterly unmoved. He didn't even appear shocked when Li Dongyuan called out his identity like that.

"Don't waste my time. Talk business."

Li Dongyuan, "I heard you had a hint for the ninth door though…"

Ruan Nanzhu's lips moved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Heard?"

Li Dongyuan, "fuck man, I really did! They're all saying it."

It was at this point that Lin Qiushi suddenly recalled that Ruan Nanzhu had already passed his tenth door. Didn't that mean he likely already had a hint to the eleventh door? What could it be like? Was there something different about it than all the other doors?

"So?" Ruan Nanzhu stared at him.

"So, will you sell me the hint?" Li Dongyuan finally said what brought him here today.

Ruan Nanzhu turned him down without any hesitation: "No way."

Li Dongyuan, "name any price, as long as I can afford it—"

Hints to the ninth door were too scarce; even he hadn't been able to obtain one.

Only Ruan Nanzhu, the crazy bastard, could get his hands on two.

Ruan Nanzhu ate the lychee fed to him. Didn't answer.

Seeing Ruan Nanzhu's attitude, Li Dongyuan became a bit agitated. He said, "thirteen days from now is my limit before going in, I don't have that much time."

Ruan Nanzhu, "weren't you having a great time jacking my customers? Telling them I got here on looks alone?" His lips were smiling but his eyes were cold. "And now you’ve learned to beg me?"

Li Dongyuan began to awkwardly laugh.

"My bad, my bad. Here, how about I service you for a night and you be the bigger person and forget all about it?"

Ruan Nanzhu pointed at the door.

"Get out."

Li Dongyuan looked aggrieved.

Lin Qiushi thought, you're really going overboard. You want the hint, fine, but you also want to take advantage of our boss? You totally deserve to get kicked out.

"I can give you a hint to the ninth door," Ruan Nanzhu said, "but I have a condition."

Li Dongyuan, "what condition?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "you go into the tenth door with him."

At this, Li Dongyuan startled. He glanced at Lin Qiushi.

"You're not…"

Ruan Nanzhu, "I am."

Li Dongyuan's expression changed immediately.

"Are you insane?!"

Ruan Nanzhu was already testy.

"Agree or get out, don't sit here wasting my time."

Li Dongyuan continued to look stormy, but in the end bit the bullet and agreed to go into the tenth door with Lin Qiushi. Judging from his face though, there was more that he wanted to say, but refrained since Lin Qiushi was still present.

Lin Qiushi stood up and said he was going to go wash his hands.

Ruan Nanzhu didn't stop him this time.

But when Lin Qiushi came back from the bathroom, he heard Ruan Nanzhu and Li Dongyuan arguing. Li Dongyuan stood no chance against Ruan Nanzhu though, and ended up slamming his way out the door in a fit of anger. When he spotted Lin Qiushi, he even shot Lin Qiushi a glare.

As Lin Qiushi stood baffled by this glare, Li Dongyuan spoke: "Watch out for yourself then! If Zhu Meng whips it out it'll definitely be bigger than yours!"

Lin Qiushi, "…" I already know he's bigger than me, don't need the reminder thanks.

He returned to the room and saw Ruan Nanzhu sitting expressionless on the bed. So he said, "what got you two arguing all of a sudden?"

Ruan Nanzhu scoffed, "someone wanted to make all these accusations about me. He thinks he's worthy?"

Lin Qiushi, "you're still not feeling well, don't be angry." Then, warmly, "what do you want to eat tonight?"

Ruan Nanzhu leaned against the bed.

"Porridge. Made by you."

Lin Qiushi didn't take Li Dongyuan storming off that day to heart because he thought, between Li Dongyuan and them, there would still be time for all sorts of stories, whether good or bad. But Lin Qiushi didn't imagine that that day would be the last time he'd ever see Li Dongyuan.

The morning thirteen days later, Ruan Nanzhu, who was out of the hospital, received a phone call. Everybody in the mansion was gathered for breakfast. After he hung up, his expression went blank for just a moment. And then he opened his mouth and said, "Li Dongyuan is dead."

The chattering crowd suddenly went quiet. Everybody heard what Ruan Nanzhu said.

First chewing on a bun, Cheng Qianli also stopped.

"Ah," he said, then asked what everybody was wanting to ask, "Ruan-ge, what are you saying… Li Dongyuan, as in White Deer's Li Dongyuan?"

Ruan Nanzhu made a noise of confirmation and stood.

"I have to head over."

Lin Qiushi said, "I'll go with you."

Though Ruan Nanzhu was out of the hospital, he had yet to fully heal; even now, there was a pallor to his face. Lin Qiushi worried that if anything happened to Ruan Nanzhu out there, his body wouldn't be able to take it.

"Okay," Ruan Nanzhu agreed to Lin Qiushi's accompaniment.

Lin Qiushi quickly changed and got into the car with Ruan Nanzhu.

After announcing a destination, Ruan Nanzhu sat in the passenger's seat with his eyes shut to rest. His face was pale, and with his long, raven-dark lashes lightly fluttering, he had, in the air about him, a touch of fragility. But this fragility seemed just as likely to be Lin Qiushi's imagination.

Was Ruan Nanzhu grieving? No. Lin Qiushi thought the upset he emanated was more like commiseration. The fox mourning for the dead rabbit.[1] Ruan Nanzhu hated Li Dongyuan, but hardly wanted Li Dongyuan to just die like this—because seeing this happen to Li Dongyuan, it was difficult not to think of it happening to themselves.

Lin Qiushi remembered that last time he saw Li Dongyuan, a bit over ten days ago, and he exhaled for a long while, as if he wanted to breathe out that entire mass of smothering air in his chest.

After a forty-minute drive, they came to an apartment building in the city.

Lin Qiushi first thought that White Deer was headquartered in one of the apartments. Only after they arrived did he learn that White Deer had bought out the entire building.

There were many people gathered out front. Lin Qiushi had a bad feeling when he saw this. After he parked, they went over to the gathered crowd and saw, unsurprisingly, what everyone was surrounding.

A body, smashed to smithereens. Its face could no longer be made out, but from its clothing and general appearance, this fallen corpse was recognizably Li Dongyuan.

This wasn't Lin Qiushi's first time seeing a dead body in real life, but this was the first time someone familiar to them was just dead like this. He glanced to his side at Ruan Nanzhu. Ruan Nanzhu still maintained his placid expression—only, there was a teeming light in those dark eyes of his, like the tossing of fathomless lakes.

A woman's cries started. A teenage girl burst out from the crowd, fell to her knees beside Li Dongyuan's corpse, and began to wail. She even tried to gather Li Dongyuan's tattered body into her arms.

Those around the girl stopped her, and pulled her away from Li Dongyuan's body by force.

Lin Qiushi looked around them, and found some people quietly whispering, some people looking on with numb eyes and pained expressions. These ought to be the members of White Deer.

A beautiful woman approached Ruan Nanzhu, and spoke lowly to him, "Mr. Ruan, hello."

"Hello Ms. Jin," Ruan Nanzhu said.

"Call me by name, Jin Yurui." The woman seemed to want to smile at Ruan Nanzhu, but it came out stiff. The corners of her mouth made their way up by force, and looked very laborious. "From now on, I'll be taking over White Deer's internal affairs."

Reading between the lines, she was to be White Deer's next leader.

"Mh." Ruan Nanzhu nodded his understanding. Then, after some silence, he suddenly added, "you don't have to smile if you don't want to."

Jin Yurui's smile immediately faded. She took a deep breath, as if to get a grip on her emotions. Then, hoarsely, she spoke: "Come inside, Mr. Ruan."

Ruan Nanzhu nodded and headed for the apartment, Lin Qiushi behind him.

In the lobby of the apartment building stood six people. Plus those outside, White Deer likely had about twenty or so members.

Jin Yurui began to announce the things Li Dongyuan had already prepared before death. The whole process went by quietly.

But in this quiet, Lin Qiushi sensed a surging undercurrent. In the group, some didn't seem pleased with Jin Yurui as the successor. However, when their gazes fell on Ruan Nanzhu, they seemed surprisingly wary of this outsider.

Lin Qiushi suddenly understood why Ruan Nanzhu came. He was here to quell one last upset for Li Dongyuan.

Jin Yurui was now White Deer's next leader. She had just passed her eighth door, and there was still some time before her ninth.

But clearly, White Deer's members weren't as satisfied with her as they had been with Li Dongyuan.

Ruan Nanzhu had certainly noticed as well. But he wasn't planning on interfering with White Deer's matters, and so only sat silently to the side.

Lin Qiushi watched his awful pallor and thought he must be uncomfortable by now. Concerned, Lin Qiushi thought for a bit. Then he pulled out a piece of candy and snuck it into Ruan Nanzhu's hand.

Ruan Nanzhu glanced back at him momentarily, before nodding lightly. He unwrapped the candy, and slowly placed it in his mouth.

The flavor of the candy was sweet, and washed away a certain sense of discomfort. Ruan Nanzhu sat in that lobby for a long time, until Jin Yurui was finished delegating matters.

The group in the lobby began to disperse. In the end, the three of them were left.

Jin Yurui looked up with a pained smile. "Thank you Mr. Ruan. If you hadn't been here, I don't know what I would've done."

Ruan Nanzhu stood, and said, "I can only do this much. The rest of the road you have to walk on your own."

Jin Yurui nodded. She was no fragile flower on tendrils; though faced with the winds she swayed a bit, in the end, she would withstand the storm herself.

"We'll be off then," Ruan Nanzhu said.

"Mr. Ruan won't stay for dinner?" Jin Yurui asked politely.

"No thank you." Ruan Nanzhu declined the sentiment, and said, "I'll come again after he's been buried."

Jin Yurui didn't force the matter either, nodding and showing Ruan Nanzhu and Lin Qiushi to the door.

Li Dongyuan's corpse had already been cleaned up. Only a bloodstain on the ground was left to tell the world what had transpired here.

In a few days, this stain would be gone as well. At White Deer, people came and went. Perhaps they would all very soon forget that there had ever been a leader named Li Dongyuan.

The entire way here, Ruan Nanzhu didn't look well.

It was only on their way back, sitting in the driver's seat, that Lin Qiushi noticed something was wrong. He asked, "Nanzhu, are your wounds okay?"

He could faintly smell blood in the air. At first, Lin Qiushi had thought it was because of Lin Qiushi. But even now Lin Qiushi could smell it.

"I'm fine." Ruan Nanzhu was leaning tilted against the door.

Lin Qiushi didn't believe he was fine at all, and frowned.

"Let me take a look."

Ruan Nanzhu, "no."

Lin Qiushi startled. He didn't think Ruan Nanzhu would refuse him so plainly.

"Let's go home first," Ruan Nanzhu said. Immediately after, his eyes drifted shut in apparent exhaustion.

Worried, Lin Qiushi couldn't help but drive a bit faster.

Some tens of minutes later, they got back to the mansion, and Ruan Nanzhu finally dragged his eyes open. Lin Qiushi quickly took hold of him and helped him inside. Once he was in bed, Lin Qiushi very naturally sat down beside him, taking a corner of Ruan Nanzhu's shirt in hand.

Ruan Nanzhu glanced up at him.

"What are you doing?"

Lin Qiushi, "I'm taking a look at your back…"

The wounds were the worst on Ruan Nanzhu's back.

Tilting his head to the side, Ruan Nanzhu kept eyeing Lin Qiushi.

"Can you not look?"

Lin Qiushi frowned.

"No."

He thought that Ruan Nanzhu's wounds had for sure reopened.

Ruan Nanzhu gave this some thought.

"Then give me a piece of candy."

Lin Qiushi fished out a piece of candy, unwrapped it, and popped it in Ruan Nanzhu's mouth.

"Go ahead," Ruan Nanzhu mumbled around the candy. "There’s not much to see really…"

Lin Qiushi lifted Ruan Nanzhu's shirt and unsurprisingly, he found the wounds reopened. Blood trickled down his back and seeped into his clothing.

Brows furrowed, Lin Qiushi, "this isn't good. We have to go to the hospital."

Ruan Nanzhu stopped moving, his breaths evening out.

Glancing up, Lin Qiushi sighed.

"And now you're faking sleep?"

Ruan Nanzhu still wasn't talking.

Exasperated, Lin Qiushi could only get up to go grab some gauze. As he cleaned simply around Ruan Nanzhu's wounds, he was still nagging, "we have to go to the hospital tomorrow morning."

With a vague sound of acknowledgement, Ruan Nanzhu once again closed his eyes. He really was a bit tired, and wanted to get some actual rest.

Author's Note:

The feelings are here, is it exciting enough /author proudly puffs up her chest

Translator’s Note:

“The fox mourning for the dead rabbit” / 兔死狐悲 (tù sǐ hú bēi). This is a direct translation of the chengyu. Both the rabbit and the fox are prey of the hunter, so the fox mourns the dead rabbit as it fears for its own fate. Translating chengyu is fun, because sometimes it requires sacrificing the imagery to convey the meaning concisely, or sometimes you can choose to put both.

[Ch. 77] | [Ch. 79]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒 #YAAAYYYYY I'VE LINKED IT #now if you'll excuse me #i'm gonna finish hako onna #and #keep skipping the rest of the statue door sdjfnksjdnfksdf #i mean it's fine i'm sure i'll get back around to it but #:)))#and you know i love my son

141 notes · View notes

samanthadalton · 3 years

Text

Slowly falling (part 3 finale)

And here we are!! last part of the fic, I hope you guys enjoyed it. I ended it just at the end of the pool scene but I know in my version, Nicole is dead so the story would obviously play out different. So in this version, Nicole is actually a vampire and when Kamilah buried her, it helped Nicole not turn feral since Vega fed her his blood before the attack on the castle. So Nicole would obviously come out during the tribunal to back up Vega’s claims in which Adrian would be found guilty and then the gang will break him out and you guys know the rest :)

also i took some lines from the book, bc the pool scene is just too good :))))

slightly NSFW (but quite tame but I’ll tag it as that anyway) also mentions of death

taglist: @cloud9in @alleycat97 @thedaft1 @mrs-avamontjoy @itszdavenport @iamsimpforpoppy @otakufangirl-12 @orisasay @justavampirefan @waterinathermostat @bloodkueen @dimis-yiddies @alexlabhont @thepotatobleh @mara-re @fundamentalromantic

wordcount: 2.5k

Amy wakes up, dazed. Her eyelids feel heavy as she blinks away the last remains of her sleep, wondering when she went to sleep in the first place. As she takes in her surroundings, she sees she’s in Kamilah’s office, laying on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, unsure of where it has come from as the sun begins to set. She rubs her eyes sitting up to see Lily typing away at Kamilah’s desk, looking slightly zombified as her fingers fly over the keyboard.

“Hey Lil?” As if in her own world, Lily continues typing, her eyes never leaving the screen. Amy amplifies her voice louder to capture her attention, “Lily!”

“Huh,” Lily jerks her head up, her concentration breaking. “Hey Ames.” She tiredly rubs at her eyes, shaking her head a little before mustering a small smile, “sleep well?”

Amy yawns a little smiling back, “yeah, this couch is pretty comfy. Thanks for the blanket.”

“Oh that was Kamilah, I haven’t gotten out of this chair since we’ve come back from the gala.” Lily stretches before continuing with her typing, already back in full attention. Amy looks down at the blanket, hugging it closer to her body, feeling a glimmer of something she can’t quite put her finger on.

“So have you found any evidence yet?”

Lily shakes her head, “whatever Vega is hiding, he’s done a damn good job because it’s heavily encrypted, I’ve broken past so many firewalls but it feels like there's millions.” Lily runs hand down her face, “Oh yeah, Kamilah said that if you wanted to clean up she left a key to one of the rooms.” Lily gestures towards the table before refocusing. Amy stands, and swipes the key from the table before making her way to the room to clean up. Once she’s finished taking a shower, Amy chooses a new outfit from the closet and makes her way back to the office.

“Good you’re here.” Kamilah lets her gaze roam Amy’s body for a few seconds before meeting her eyes. Amy can see the fatigueness in her demeanour, how her body is slightly slumped and her hair slightly frizzled.

“Are there any updates?”

Kamilah shakes her head, “not yet. If only Lily could do her job better we could actually get the evidence,” Kamilah retorts, a hint of malice in her tone.

Frustrated Lily slams down on the desk, “hey I’ve been working on this all day. My skills are the best of the best, it’s just Vega’s is better.” Lily, downcast, looks down at the screen, her head spiralling at the sight of the numbers on the screen.

Kamilah sighs heavily, her head hanging low, “I apologize. I’m just frustrated.” Lily musters a small smile and continues typing away on the keyboard but Kamilah stands from her chair and lays her hand over the young vampire’s stopping her, “I think that’s enough.”

“But Adrian-”

“He will know we did our best with the time we had. There are only a couple of hours until the tribunal, it’s inconsequential at this point.”

“But how will we know what Vega is hiding?” Amy interferes.

Kamilah looks at Amy, “we won’t until it’s presented.” Her head turns back to Lily, “I think since you and Amy were at the castle it’s only fitting that you two testify on Adrian’s behalf.”

“Of course,” the girls say simultaneously.

Kamilah gives a satisfied nod, ”we’ll reconvene in an hour, I’m going to go for a swim. Lily you should get some sleep.” Kamilah makes her way to the door but before she leaves she throws her head over her shoulder, her eyes blazing into Amy’s, “and Amy you’re welcome to join me.” Kamilah turns her head and continues walking.

Amy looks in surprise as she whispers to Lily, “what should I do?”

“Girl why are you still here? Go!” Lily shoos Amy out of the door.

Amy trudges up to Kamilah as they wordlessly enter the elevator together. Amy can see a hint of a smile on Kamilah’s lips as they go up to the rooftop. As the doors open, Amy lets out a short gasp. A gorgeous pool lies in the middle of the rooftop, the water glimmering under the moonlight as the stars sparkle overhead.

“Woah, and I thought Adrian’s rooftop restaurant was nice.”

Kamilah merely shrugs her shoulders, “Adrian finds solace in the company of others. I find it in solitude. Swimming here alone, under the stars...it brings me peace.”

Amy cocks her head slightly to look at the other vampire, “but you invited me up here.”

“So I did.” Kamilah replies, Amy waits for something, instead Kamilah paces over to the bar, reaching behind it. She gives Amy a conspiratorial look, “drink?”

“Sure, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Kamilah begins mixing together a concoction of liquor before pouring it into 2 glasses. She hands one of the glasses to Amy before settling down on a lounge chair. Amy assesses the milky white liquid before taking a small sip, she squirms slightly as she coughs slightly, “it’s certainly strong!”

“That’s what makes it good,” Kamilah watches as Amy takes a bigger sip, her features in more control as she enjoys the drink, “It’s Arak. Distilled from anise seed.” Kamilah takes a huge gulp of the drink as she looks out to the sky, while Amy takes a seat on the lounge chair near her.

“Thank you Kamilah.”

“For what?”

Amy shrugs as she gazes off into the distance, her hand swirling the drink in the cup, “everything I guess. For helping Lily, Adrian,” she pauses, “me.”

“Of course, I know Adrian would do the same if he were in my position.”

Amy nods, “knowing him, he probably would.”

Kamilah gives Amy a side glance, looking for something but she can’t quite put her finger on it. When she doesn’t find what she’s searching for, she places her drink down and begins unbuttoning her shirt before sliding it off her body, exposing her smooth toned upper body.

Amy's eyes widen, “oh!” She awkwardly glances away, as Kamilah places her hands on her trousers, smoothly slipping them off. “You’re taking off your clothes. That’s a thing you’re doing.” Amy gulps uneasily, trying her damndest not to make her gawking conspicuous.

“Well I’m not going to swim in my suit,” Kamilah bluntly answers as she enters the swimming pool. She begins swimming a few laps as Amy looks at the water droplets glimmering off of her body, only accentuating her curves more. She stops swimming before looking up at Amy expectedly, “coming?”

Amy pauses momentarily before nodding, “yes,” she hesitantly glances over at Kamilah whose gaze is still burning on her, as she slips off her clothes, folding them neatly onto the chair before she dives into the pool. When she reaches the surface, she slicks back her wet hair, “it’s cold.”

“Is it? I didn’t notice.” Amy turns on her back and floats towards Kamilah who’s already aimlessly floating, together they stare up at the sky, lost in the shimmering of the stars. A few moments later Kamilah breaks the silence, “it’s funny,” when she speaks her usual commanding hilt is gone and replaced with something softer, more resonating with the voice Kamilah used when she was helping Amy after discovering Nicole’s body. “How old are you Amy 23?”

“24,” Amy replies.

Kamilah chuckles, “I remember that age. I thought I knew everything. I thought I’d felt all there was to feel. I imagine you feel the same way.”

Amy gingerly answers, “I guess? I mean I feel like I’ve been through a lot.” Kamilah turns her head to face Amy, and when their eyes meet, the older vampire’s eyes look so deep they almost look bottomless.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The question catches Amy off guard, as she shoots her eyebrows up. “Once.” Kamilah curiously cocks her head as she appraises the tenderness in Amy’s tone. Amy gazes back up to the sky, as if the stars are painted in her eyes, “Christopher. He- he was a childhood friend of mine. Everyone used to always make jokes that we were dating but it wasn’t until we were freshman in highschool when he asked me out.” Amy’s lips quirk up slightly, “I felt like the happiest girl in the world. We both even agreed to go to college in New York. He got into Columbia and I got into NYU.”

“What happened?”

“Our first year in college was the worst.” Amy’s eyes darken, a somber look in her eyes as she recollects, “we agreed to live together while we were in college but we ended up fighting all the time. During our Sophomore year, we agreed to break up. I moved out and ended up moving in with Lily.” Amy lets out an airy laugh, “but that’s a story for another time. Anyway, I was so heartbroken during my college years, I tried moving on but it didn’t feel right. Fast forward to the end of my Junior year and we randomly bumped each other. We got to talking and decided to get back together again. We agreed to take it slow, so I was still living with Lily.”

“Well I’m guessing it didn’t work out.”

“No.” Amy’s eyes glisten with tears as she blinks them away, her voice becomes hoarse as she continues, “a few months after college, Chris, he was- he was walking through the park, and I guess he was attacked by a wild animal but the police found his body torn to pieces.”

Kamilah grimaces, and apologetically reaches out to Amy, and rubs her arm, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Now that I think about it, it wasn’t a wild animal.”

“What do you mean?”

“I keep getting flashbacks to what happened in Marcel’s castle. The bodies, the way they were shredded to pieces I-” Amy cuts herself off, as she swallows down her sobs.

“You think it was a feral?” Kamilah knits her brows together, following suit as Amy pulls herself out of the pool, grabbing a towel to dry herself off.

“I know it is. It’s why I became so triggered I guess, with everything that happened with Nicole. All the memories of his body just came flooding back and I panicked. I-” Amy closes her eyes, taking a slow steadying breath.

“I’m sorry for asking, I did not realise this was a sore subject.”

Amy shakes her head, “it’s not your fault, it’s just hard sometimes. For months I didn’t leave my house and it wasn’t until Lily practically forced me to start being more outgoing. She’s the one who told me to go for the job of Adrian’s assistant.”

“I guess we have to thank her for that.” Kamilah speaks softly, her eyes boring into Amy’s and Amy can see the genuinity behind her eyes.

“So why did you ask about my love life?”

Kamilah presses her lips together in thought, “mere curiosity. It’s been a while since I’ve spent my time with someone with so many attachments. The company of vampires tends to make you jaded. It’s nice to be with someone so uncynical. So open to new possibilities.”

Amy gives Kamilah a small smile, “well you’re welcome for giving you a fresh perspective.” Amy smiles hoping to alleviate the tension a little bit, but the somber look on Kamilah’s face causes her to knit her brows together in thought, huh, she thinks to herself. Maybe Kamilah isn’t as tough as she makes out to be. “Kamilah?”

Kamilah hums, “yes?”

“Doesn’t everyone have someone they’re attached to, I mean without Lily, I don’t know where I would be today.”

Kamilah purses her lips in thought, “no, no they don’t.”

“But you love Adrian.”

“I’m quite fond of him, yes. Which perhaps is an illusion itself, because he reminds me of my brother.”

“But you have loved.”

“Many times.” Kamilah’s face drops, her voice quiet, “and lost. Just as many.” When Amy meets her eyes, she can see the sadness brimming in the surface of them, 2000 years worth of pain and loss just merely breaking the surface.

“2000 years is a long time.”

“It defies imagining.”

“You’re right. I can’t imagine even a small percent of what you’ve seen.”

“And I’ve seen a lot. I’ve watched empires rise and fall. I’ve watched the world transform right in front of me and yet I-” Kamilah presses her lips together in a thin line, a pensive look on her face. Kamilah sharply inhales, “I’ve felt everything that there is to feel, I’ve loved, lost, grieved, but now, I feel like an empty vessel. Just detached from everything.” Kamilah looks away, as Amy watches as she transforms her expression back into her usual icy demeanour, as if the last few minutes did not exist.

“I might not know a lot Kamilah,” Amy takes a step towards the older vampire, “but I know that you are so much more than you think you are.”

“Please,” Kamilah scoffs, but behind the harshness, Amy can see she’s touched by her words.

“I’m serious. You are incredible. I’m purely in awe of you every single moment.”

“You don’t need to fuel my ego, I don’t need your pity.”

“Pity isn’t what I feel at all.”

“Oh? And what do you feel?” And in that moment, Amy can see the earnestness in Kamilah’s words.

“Connection. Admiration,” Amy hesitates for a second, “infatuation.”

Kamilah raises an eyebrow as Amy takes a step closer to her, closing the gap between the two. Wordlessly, Amy tilts her head up, and presses a soft kiss against Kamilah’s lips. When Kamilah doesn’t reciprocate the kiss, she steps back flushed, “I’m sorry.”

Kamilah places her forefinger against Amy’s lips silencing her, “don’t be.”

In her eyes shine conviction as her finger trails down Amy’s body before her hand cups her hip, Kamilah leans down, capturing Amy in a long kiss, the kiss full of ecstasy, driving Amy into a euphoric state. Kamilah kisses Amy harder, her tongue snakes into her mouth, eliciting a small moan from the human. Kamilah groans slightly, her hold on Amy’s waist tightening as she leads her to the lounge chair before pushing Amy flat out on it, covering her body with hers. Kamilah dominates the kiss, her kiss full of passion, as if she’s yearning for the desire it brings her. Her eyes flash red as her knee pressing against Amy’s core, evoking a small moan from the girl. Kamilah smiles devilishly, as Amy’s hips buck against her knee, slowly rubbing trying to gain any friction that will bring her pleasure. Kamilah brings her hand under Amy’s chin and kisses her breathless. Eventually the kiss breaks for the much needed air, and the atmosphere is quiet, but charged with electricity. Kamilah rests her forehead against Amy’s as the human pants heavily, and as their eyes meet, everything feels different.

“We should get going, the tribunal is soon.” Amy swallows heavily and nods, the wind still knocked out of her after the kiss. Kamilah smiles as she climbs off her, and offers her hand for Amy to stand. “Come on.” The women silently make their way to the elevator, but Amy feels different, she feels something that she hasn’t felt since Chris and as she gazes at Kamilah, she can see she feels the same.

#playchoices #BloodBound #bloodbound kamilah #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #hope you guys enjoy!!!!!!

78 notes · View notes

peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

Text

Tracing Time

Again a tiny mention of the hate crime in the first few paragraphs here, just as Sander is thinking of the last clip.

Thursday, 12:03

Song: Agnes Obel - Island of Doom

“Oh my god, Gilles, can you please just stop for five minutes?”

Sander’s not sure where the outburst comes from; he regrets it instantly. He feels better today, after the shit-show that was last night. He’s stopped thinking about punches and bruises and pain and lies and Robbe curled up on the ground. Or at least, he’s stopped thinking about it enough that he can breathe easier again. He had never even really noticed the weight, until he’d spoken to Jens the other night. Until then, it had been about Robbe. Robbe being okay, Robbe feeling safe and not missing out, Robbe not hating himself for loving Sander. Robbe moving on. Recovering, healing. Forgetting.

They’ll never forget it entirely, he knows that. But he sees it in Robbe, and he can see it in himself now, those times when it leaves them for a moment. When the universe shrinks back down, and centers them in its orbit, and blocks out the rest of the world. They can forget, for more and more moments.

Once they admit that they haven’t, it becomes easier to try. Ignoring it hasn’t given it less power; it only makes the memory scarier when it pops up unexpectedly.

He’s allowed to curse it. To hate faces he doesn’t even remember. It’s all that anger, that spark of spite, that lights a fire in him and allows him to grow bigger than it. He should have known, with how long Agathe has been ingraining the thought process in him. Giving voice to it, letting his words be carried away on the air, shifts the concrete away to prod at the core, which is only as heavy as damp, rotting leaves. If he speaks at the right moment, the wind will be strong enough to sweep them out.

Maybe the right moment should have happened before last night. Maybe it should have come a year ago. But he’d woken up this morning with such an unexpected sense of light and relief, and he thinks that should count for something, no matter the time.

Then he’d gone to class, and the usual restless-and-bored feeling kicked in, and then he’d settled himself down at one of the picnic benches outside. Now, he’s still there, with the addition of his friends, and the good mood he’d woken up in is dissipating quickly the longer he tries to work on this assignment.

And the longer Gilles keeps distracting him from it.

They’re looking at Sander now from right next to him like he’d just slapped them across the face, and the regret deepens, twists itself into something gnarled and jagged that hooks and tugs at his ribs. Thomas and Emilie have gone silent and, effectively, so has Gilles. They open their mouth only once and quickly snap it shut again.

“I’m sorry,” Sander says quickly. “I honestly didn’t mean it. It’s just—“ he gestures to his laptop “—this fucking assignment.”

Gilles wipes the surprise away and forces a smile, giving a tiny nod. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I can keep it down. Actually, I think I’m gonna go get something to eat, anyway.”

They begin to rise from the bench as they speak, and Sander quickly latches onto their arm and gives a pleading tug. “No. Gilles, I’m sorry. Please, don’t be upset.”

“I’m not,” Gilles waves him off. At Sander’s unconvinced look, they insist, “I’m not.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Sander tries. “Don’t leave.”

Gilles just shakes their head. “I’ll come back. Compromise, yeah? You asked for five minutes.”

Sander slowly lets his hand fall, feeling lost. He can’t just keep apologising, but he doesn’t know what to actually say to make it better. He’s hopeless in such situations. He glances at Thomas and Emilie for help, but they both seem disappointed, too.

“Sander.” Gilles sets a hand on the back of his neck as they finally stand and gives a gentle squeeze. “I get it. It’s fine. I’ll...try to actually help you, or just be quiet whenever I get back, okay? Whichever you want.” They duck down and press a firm kiss to his cheek, and he barely has time to lean towards them before they hoist up their bag and walk off.

Sander wants to call out, but he still can’t find the words, and Gilles won’t be dragged back if they want to go. Instead his mouth opens and closes as helplessly as a fish’s, and Thomas slowly packs up his things and stands instead.

“I’m gonna go…” He juts his thumb over his shoulder, hovering by the table hesitantly. “I’m sure it’s fine, but, you know. But it’ll be fine, Sander.”

Sander’s shoulders slump, but he nods, and Thomas smiles at him before running to catch up to Gilles. Sander pushes his laptop back far enough that he can plant his elbows on the table and drop his head into his hands with a sigh.

“Hey,” Emilie breaks through his thoughts, voice soft. “Gilles is a big boy. They’ll get over it quickly. They really know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“It was still shitty,” Sander sighs.

Emilie gives him a sympathetic smile and slides across the seat to sit directly across from him, where Thomas had been a moment ago. “What’s going on?”

Sander huffs. “You mean why am I being a dick?”

She ignores him. “The assignment can’t be that bad. Maybe give yourself a break from it, get something to eat as well. Come back to it with a clearer head.”

“It’s not that easy,” Sander says, frustrated. “Just because you can pass all this stuff without even trying, doesn’t mean it’s the same for all of us.”

“Okay, wow, you really do have a stick up your ass today.”

Sander shrinks back, effectively admonished. He, again, didn’t mean to be so harsh. He probably should just stop speaking altogether. Which means he probably should stop writing this essay, too, at least for a moment, until he gets his head under control again. Chances are it will be more strongly worded than he intends if he continues at this rate. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Emilie stares him down for a moment, then sighs. She reaches out and carefully pushes his laptop aside, and Sander doesn’t even attempt to muster the energy for a protest. Emilie lays her hands over his and doesn’t hold them, but massages the pressure points between each thumb and forefinger as she speaks.

“You know, it would take me a full month to do the kind of art you can pull off in like, a day. And I’m no smarter than Tom. It’s not just easy for me, Sander. I work my ass off to be here as much as anyone else.”

Sander curls in on himself a little more, nodding. He could mumble another apology, but he doesn’t quite see the point. He knows it’s not what she’s looking for. “I know,” he says instead. “I didn’t mean to discredit you.”

“I know.” She gives his hands a squeeze and sighs, leaning in closer to catch his eye. “And I would never discredit you, either, because I know none of us would be here if we didn’t deserve it. It’s not supposed to be easy. But we can do it. That’s the whole point.”

Is that true? It’s something Sander would like to believe, certainly, but at times like this...he doubts his abilities and his choices. What if he’s just not meant for study? In that case, what is he supposed to do?

“And you know it’s okay,” Emilie continues softly, “to ask for help when you feel like you can’t do it.”

Of course she sees right through him. He smiles weakly and works one of his hands free to draw his laptop backs towards him, angling it towards Emilie. “Will you help me?”

She huffs now, but smiles. “If only you’d had to ask one of us that last week. But when it comes to practicals you’re a pro. Otherwise we would’ve realised you’d gotten mixed up.”

“Are you saying,” Sander asks slowly, “that I messed up because I’m too good?”

She grins at him. “Exactly.”

“Cute. Just say you want help with your piece too and be done with it.”

“I want help with my piece, too.”

“At your service,” Sander smirks.

He feels only mildly anxious as she quickly skims through what he has already done, and relieved when her first response is a question that unexpectedly prompts him onwards. He’s typing away again within moments, ignoring the girl’s smug smile as he flicks between tabs and documents and his own thoughts.

When he’s completed another, rather lengthy paragraph, Gilles and Thomas return.

Sander is surprised enough to stop immediately; he hadn’t actually expected the two to come back. But Gilles perches next to him again with only the slightest hesitance and passes him a small, white paper bag with two croques tucked inside.

Sander instantly wraps an arm around their waist and leans into them in a hug, mumbling another apology. It’s all it takes to have Gilles beaming and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You’re both so easy,” Thomas muses. “Remember this, Em. Just give Sander food and Gilles affection and they’re fine.”

“Or the other way around,” Gilles offers, to which Sander immediately nods.

“Both,” he agrees. “Both is good.”

They’re all halfway through their food when Sander remembers the other thing he wanted to talk to them about, and a smile is stretching his lips before he actually speaks. “So, what did you guys think of Luca? She’s pretty fun, right?”

Gilles and Emilie choke on the same bite, with Gilles falling into a dramatic coughing fit and Emilie just politely clearing her throat with the back of her hand pressed to her lips. Thomas’s sandwich is held halfway up to his mouth as he freezes and examines the scene, the top rim of his glasses cutting his eyes in half as he widens them at Sander. Sander simply laughs, shaking his head at the two culprits and remarking on all their old comments about him being the one lacking subtlety.

As if.

~^~

previous/next

#wtfock #sander driesen #sander season #tracing time #gilles visser #emilie de vries #thomas aarden #one clip left now

38 notes · View notes