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honeypipin · 10 months

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Atlas

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(Part twooo, wooowowoooowoooo)

Disclaimer: König felt a bit cheeky today, he mayyyy be watching you, he mayyyy be thinking pervy things (you were too, equality 🙌), he mayyyy be desperate for you, how couldn't he? You're perfect for eachother 🫶🫶

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Watch

Watching the news every morning becomes a necessary part of your routine. Vicki doodles on her paper, and you listen to the ever expanding list of cryptids.

"Look! Look! Do you like my flowers?"

"Of course I do, Vicki, they're beautiful."

Your smile is parried with a gleaming grin from the little girl, and she gets to work on a new drawing, just for you.

"A new crytid has been reported to access mobile phones by the name of Atlas, if you receive any messages, do not respond. Block, report, and isolate the device for at least 24 hours."

Oh shit.

"17 dead, and 24 suffering near fatal burns and injuries, please exercise caution when dealing with these."

Oh...

Wait, what?

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2 days ago:

A chime rang out from your phone, you picked it up and read the message.

Unknown: Hello

You: Hello?

Unknown: Give me something close to your heart

You: what?

They didn't respond. So you put the phone down and turned around, you still had laundry to put away.

A weird... hand? Tentacle? Something. Something wrapped around your throat and lifted you up, you grabbed and scratched and tugged but it wouldn't let you go, no matter what you did, it felt like it just got tighter.

"Please- please- stop! STOP! Let- *cough* let me go!"

The thing pulled the phone close to your face.

Give me something close to your heart.

Something close to your heart???

"WAIT! I'll give it! Just let me go!"

The black tendril uncurled itself around your throat and presented itself in front of you. It flattened the top part of itself like it was waiting for you to give it something.

Now, what does it mean close to your heart? Did it mean metaphorically or physically? Well, you could only think of one thing that could fit both.

It seemed stunned when you handed it your bra, was that a good thing or not? You didn't know for sure, but the way it slinked into the shadows, and with your favourite bra disappearing into the wall, you probably did the right thing. Right?

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Well, considering you were still alive, you probably did do the right thing. Vicki showed you the brilliant portrait she drew of you, which you rightfully applauded her for, until you were both interrupted by a knock at the door.

To your surprise and delight, a certain Austrian greeted you once you opened the door.

"Hallo."

"Fredrick! Hello! What's got you knocking at my door?"

"I wanted to return the plate you gave me, and the fork"

"Oh, thanks, what did you think of it?" You took the cleaned plate and fork from his hands.

"Delicious."

A grin you can't help appears on your face.

"Well I am a great cook." Vicki grabs onto your free hand, little fingers barely cover half of your palm.

"Hm? Vicki? Something wrong?"

Vicki stares at Fredrick for a little, then giggles and rushes off, leaving the two of you quite confused.

"...weird, she's usually very talkative..."

"Perhaps she is shy, many children get scared of me."

You chuckled "probably their parents too"

"Probably." His eyes are crinkled to a quarter of its max, so you guess he's smiling, though, again, quite difficult to tell with the mask.

"Are you on lookout again tonight?"

"Not tonight, I will have a few days off so I can start working some day shifts."

"And to buy a new fridge?"

This time, he laughs, "And to buy a new fridge"

"Good."

"Don't forget your bins tonight, ja?"

"Hey! It was a only a few times!"

"A few times too many," he adds, god, you'd love to hear that teasing tone somewhere in your bedroom, or his, or both, you really didn't mind... uh oh, there really was no saving you here, was there?

"Erm, well, I will see you later"

His voice snapped you out of your terrible perversions, and rightfully so. Over an innocent man who literally worked to protect you?! whoops.

"Oh! Yeah, see you later Fredrick!"

You smiled at him, watched him walk away, then closed the door.

This crush was becoming an issue.

(you were totally mesmerized by his back)

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König never really had "good luck" - he often got the short end of the stick, ever since his birth. However, sometimes, Lady Luck gets confused and graces him with something holy.

in this case, Someone holy, to be more specific.

He walks in and locks the door behind him.

He was never one to be open with his loves or obsessions, the most he ever did was buy a T-shirt from a Band he liked when he was 14. He preferred quietly appreciating these things, much less stress involved when learning how to play his favourite songs in his room, than telling his friend said band he liked, and having to refuse to play out of sheer embarrassment... What if he messed up? What if it's so bad they laugh? Or something worse? What if all the attention is forced on him? It was bad enough with his size. He didn't need anymore, that was for sure.

A good thing about being an official part of the military now was the fact that he got to de-stress through shouting at poor idiots who didn't listen to him for the umpteenth time, the recoil of his gun killed the nerves in his hand enough to stop the shaking when he was nervous. Military had done him well, he was forced into the game, and now he's got it.

Except this is a different game.

How was he meant to do this? Sure, you have the kindest eyes he's ever seen, and your smile is the stuff of dreams, and you've never been cruel to him... But what if you reject him? What if you laugh like the others from his youth? Or stand him up like people had done before? Or what if he thought he was lucky for one night, only to wake up the next morning without you next to him, he couldn't let that happen!

So he did the one thing he was always good at, watch.

He grabbed a beer from his fridge and sat down at his computer, switching it back on, your voice filled his ears.

"Vicki, what are you laughing about" he watched the two of you giggle together fondly, you were a great parent for raising her yourself, it made him wonder if you would be the same with his child, if not better - after all you would always have his undying support - would you would coddle them, waiting for him to come home?

He finally looked away to continue his stalking research, sure, he had found your social medias quite easily, but he needed to know more! They were only good for seeing pictures of you, and yes, he did enjoy seeing said pictures of you, and yes, they did fuel many of his fantasies - for example, his favourite - a picture of you at a friend's wedding catching the bouquet, in a dress that certainly caught his eyes (not that you don't catch his eyes (you always do), it's just that in this one he can see your cleavage, and he was very glad to see it respectfully), he couldn't help but think about you excitedly rushing to him about it, and how you would later "convince" him to marry soon (he would totally be on board, does not need convincing, but would let you try anyways) with your sweet, needy voice, and gentle kisses, caresses trailing lower and lower on his body, it would be the rare kind of attention he does like (And he would definitely return the favor later, Schatz, don't you know that he's great with his mouth? He'll make sure you feel so good, you won't even notice he took your panties, you'd be too fucked out to do so! Just enjoy the bath he's running for the two of you! What?Whosaidthat?!).

While the pictures were a great start to his mornings, something else bothered him, he couldn't find anything out about Vicki or his biggest problem, the father. He knew nothing about his greatest competitor, so how could he hope to beat him yet? He had spent hours on his computer searching for anything that helped, only stopping for work, human survival, and to talk to or watch you, and the anything that could help him? It only lead him back to square one. It was terribly frustrating.

He brought his attention back to the camera he had snuck into your kitchen, one of many, of course, and smiled at the sight of you pondering over your work.

Your concentrated face peered at your screen, the glasses you wore began to slip down your nose whilst you were trying to understand the code you were sent, freelance programming would be so, so much easier if people could just format their programs better. If only.

Your " uniform" was even better, some comfy leggings, a tank top and some zip up hoodie, with your neckline exposed - König got a great view of the skin he needed to mark. He could almost swear you were doing this on purpose, wearing clothes like these to rile him up, and it was certainly working.

But it was fine. After all, it wouldn't be long until he could finally do something, you were just giving him a little teaser! The more he thought about it, really, you were just being generous, and how could he complain?

Just a bit more time, and you were finally his.

And if things didn't go to plan... the basement could always work, right?

#könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig cod #könig #konig cod #konig x reader #konig #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig modern warfare

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firstdegreefangirl · 1 year

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June 2023 Reading Wrap-Up!

Halfway through the year, and I'm excited to report that I'm either on track or ahead of all my reading goals for 2023! I've just got to focus more on reading books I already have, instead of buying new ones. Should be easy enough, right? ;-)

As always, stats up here, mini reviews under the cut. Click through to see what had me swearing at my empty living room at 1:30 a.m.

Total books read: 7

Total pages read: 1,816

Days read: 23/30

Average star rating: 4.33/5

Challenge Prompts Filled: 13 in June; 66 total. Popsugar: 6(23)/40. Romanceopoly: 3 (18)/36. CRAD: 1(6)/12. BTBL: 3(19)/52

Happy Singles Day by Ann Marie Walker

⭐⭐⭐⭐(¼)

This was cute! I picked it up on a whim, when I found myself with some free time at the big library branch across town, because I liked the idea of a romance novel celebrating singlehood. I liked watching the MC figure out who she is outside of her job, and her love interest was such a compelling dude. Between his daughter and his sister, and his bed and breakfast, he really made the story for me. It wasn’t quite grumpy/sunshine, because Lucas opens up as things progress, but something about his reluctance to even be invovled in the story at all really entertained me. The only thing I’d say really bugged me was the dog. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs. Like, so much. But the cover has a picture of a little terrier shaped pup, and then the text describes the dog as a “pit bull/boxer mix,” and it drove me nuts every step of the way. A little detail, maybe, but the discrepancy really threw me off.

Prompts filled: Popsugar – A book about a vacation

Summer on Blackberry Beach by Belle Calhoune

⭐⭐⭐(¾)

What a fun little summer read! I’ll admit, I was expecting there to be some sort of Christmassy detail, given that the town is called Mistletoe, but once I got past that, this was so delightful! I grabbed it from a book thrift store while my friend was in town visiting, after the teacher/Navy SEAL fake dating plot caught both of our attentions. I liked watching the characters learn how to move past their respective losses, and that they communicated really effectively through much of the story. Too many times, the plotline falls apart if the characters would just have like one mature conversation, so I really enjoyed that they did that here and the story held up. It was refreshing to watch these characters grow together and find the futures they didn’t think they deserved.

Prompts filled: Popsugar – About a holiday that’s not Christmas; Romanceopoly – Soldier Street/One of the MCs are in the military

Biting Through The Skin: An Indian Kitchen In America’s Heartland by Nina Mukerjee Furstenau

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I’ve had this on my shelf for … probably two years now? At least a year and a half; I’m pretty sure I bought it at the library fall book sale on Fill A Bag day. Food as a vessel for culture has always interested me, and the idea of a memoir pairing Indian food with Midwest culture (where I’ve lived my entire life) was particularly fascinating. Turns out the author spent most of her childhood like three hours from where I grew up/live, in the same small town where one of my friends is from! Every chapter includes stories about the Indian foods that flavor her memories, and the recipes are at the ends of the chapters. I haven’t cooked any of them yet, but maybe someday! The essays were heartfelt and compelling, like I could feel myself in the kitchen right alongside the author and her family, with the warm, hearty spices and sentimental stories.

Popsugar – favorite prompt from past challenge (2022 – a book with a recipe in it); BTBL – Epistolary/unusual writing style (recipes)

Darcy by RJ Scott, Meredith Russell

⭐⭐⭐⭐

At some point, I got this for free on my Kindle, and it got the callup this month for being something short enough that I could read it in a couple of days, but compelling enough to hold my attention (also, for having a five-letter title!). I’m admittedly a sucker for fake dating-turned-romance, but usually the “dating” couple is the endgame, so it was interesting to read a story that turned the trope on its head. Darcy and Adrian had such an instant attraction, but more than just sexually. I loved seeing them open up to each other, and how supportive Darcy was through the whole story, of both Adrian and his sister, and especially at the ending. I’m definitely planning to pick up the rest of the series at some point.

BTBL – less than 170 pages; CRAD – half as many letters as May; Popsugar – Forbidden Romance; Romanceopoly – Passion Place/slow burn or instant heat contemporary romance

The Water Baby by Roz Denney Fox

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Finally, I got back around to reading this for the first time in … 15 years or so? I don’t remember exactly when I read it for the first time, but I do remember picking it up from my mom’s book stack when I was probably too young for Harlequin romance novels. I liked it then, and saved it from a garage sale pile a few years later. It’s well-loved and rough around the edges, but the best books always are. Luckily, it’s just as good now as it was years ago, and absolutely worth the shelf space for all this time.

Prompts filled: BTBL – released at least 23 years ago; Popsugar – Set in the decade you were born

Egghead: or, you can’t survive on ideas alone by Bo Burnham

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I don’t have much to say about this one that I haven’t said before. I love poetry, I love Bo Burnham, and some of my favorite poems ever are in this book (look at you, The Letter!). This particular reread was just shy of an hour, sitting on the floor of my denbrary, looking for something to spark inspiration for an upcoming writing project I'm trying to plan. I’m not sure yet, but I think I figured it out, at that!

Prompts filled: None

The Last Flight by Julie Clark

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Fuck this book. Five stars. I’m writing this right about an hour after I finished devouring the book in three days. Mostly two days – the first day I only had time to read like the first chapter. Usually, I’m not one for thrillers, but this caught my eye at the same thrift store as Blackberry Beach up above. Once I realized it’s a signed copy, and was only three dollars, I basically had to give it a try. And holy HELL, am I glad I did! I was sucked in from the first few pages, absolutely enthralled right down to the end. In fact, on page 142, I actively shouted “what the fuuuuuuck?!?” out loud to my empty apartment. It’s that sort of a book. I had a loose suspicion of how it would end, but there were a lot of things I didn’t see coming. I’d KILL to see this one as a movie, and I’m absolutely going to read the author’s other thrillers. Sometimes, there’s a benefit to stepping outside my wheelhouse, because I have a feeling this is going to be a top 10 for 2023.

Prompts filled: Popsugar – A book about divorce; Romanceopoly – Killer Crescent/a thriller of your choice

#katie reads #june 2023 #kr23 #reading #bookblr #reading update

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cleanlenins · 3 years

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Ectober Day 4: Glitter

Bottled Beauty: Reasonable Rates

A new shop opens in the mall. It sells amazing products that make you more beautiful. The prices are fair, as Paulina finds out.

AO3

Warnings: None

A new store opened in the Amity Park Mall, and no one knew how it got there.

One day, there was nothing there but a wide expanse of plaster wall, adorned with a few flyers taped and torn. The mall closed down at half past eight. The guards and workers closed down by nine. Doors locked and no one entered.

When security opened the doors again the next morning, they stood in awe of the new addition. Wide glass windows displayed a varied assortment of unusual goods. Shiny bottles of makeup and perfume. Glittering combs and brushes. Sparkling collections of hair pins and clips. Face masks and nail polish and hair oil and scented powders. Jewelry of every type sparkled in the bright led lights that flooded the store. Beautifully embroidered scarves and accessories were hung with meticulous care along the walls.

Security was flabbergasted. They had heard nothing about this store. Nothing reported to them. They called it in, asking CBL if it was legit. The radio replied that yes, all paperwork was in order.

Bottled Beauty was open for business.

Paulina was frequently at the mall. What better place was there for her to be? There were so many stores for her to peruse, so many things to buy. People could marvel at her perfection. And the Ghost Boy tended to appear there all too often. A bonus. As familiar as she was with the mall's set-up, she immediately noticed the new store. She smiled in delight when she saw the products through the window and eagerly walked in.

It was even better than what she had imagined. Paulina was awestruck. She merely stood there, eyes drifting from item to item.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” A voice asked. Paulina turned at the sound. A person stood there. Paulina could not tell if they were a man or a woman, but she marveled. They were beautiful, dark hair framing their face with a waterfall of curls. Lovely green eyes sparkled with glitter eyeshadow, smiling wide with perfectly full lips. They stood there, dressed in a glittering button down shirt, a small box in their hand.

“Oh, I was just looking. I’ve never been here before. It’s amazing,” Paulina whispered reverently. The glittering person nodded.

“Thank you. We here at Bottled Beauty pride ourselves in spreading beauty at a reasonable rate. What is worse than looking at an ugly world?” The employee grinned as they sat the box on the counter. Paulina nodded in agreement. “Was there anything you were looking for in particular?”

Paulina shook her head.

The employee hummed, tapping their finger against their chin as they examined her. Paulina fidgeted under the stare, but was once more mesmerized by the brilliant green eyes. They walked closer to her, merely inches away. Paulina stood straighter as they got closer. The employee’s eyes gleamed as they stared down.

“My dear, do you know you are very nearly perfect?” They purred. Paulina blushed.

“Really? I mean, of course I am,” She preened. The employee grinned again, green eyes bright. They reached up and gently grasped a strand of hair.

“Only nearly, my dear. But we can fix that,” The employee clarified. Paulina could not bring herself to be offended. “You have such thick hair. So dark, like the night. Many people would be jealous to have such hair. But it must be so difficult to manage. The frizz alone would be a full time job. Am I wrong?”

Paulina thought back to the hours she had spent on taming her hair. How difficult it was every morning to get the perfect style. How she had to pay for so many conditioning treatments to keep it from puffing up in an unmanageable mess.

“You’re right,” Paulina said. The glittering person dropped the strand of hair and stepped away.

“I have just the thing,” They called over their shoulder, walking into the store. Paulina hurried to follow. They stopped at a display of different combs. The employee plucked one, showing it to Paulina.

“Comb your hair with this and you will be able to style it any way you wish,” They said. Paulina’s eyes widened in wonder. “Whether you choose to wear it curly, or straight. Up or down. It will go exactly as you want it.”

“That sounds too good to be true.”

“But true nonetheless. If you are unsatisfied, you can always return it.”

Paulina wrinkled her brow.

“How much?” She asked. The employee tilted their head.

“For you, I would take a laugh,” They said. Paulina blinked in confusion.

“A laugh? You just want me to laugh? That’s all?” Paulina repeated in disbelief.

“At Bottled Beauty, we believe in reasonable rates. A fair price for fair folk,” The employee put their hand over their heart. “And we so crave perfection, something you are so close to already.”

Paulina laughed in delight at the compliment, given from someone so pretty. The store owner handed her the comb and bid her farewell.

Paulina combed her hair with the comb, and wondered at the results. Her hair was perfectly shiny after only one stroke. She preened as her classmates gawked, tossing her hair over her shoulder for emphasis. Dale was so starstruck that he walked into the school’s front door, tripping all the way down the stairs. All of the A-list laughed at his expense. Except Paulina.

She returned again to Bottle Beauty, quickly looking for the employee.

“We thought you would be back,” A voice whispered right next to her ear. She turned eagerly.

“The comb was perfect, so I had to come back,” Paulina said. The employee laughed.

“We are glad you are satisfied,” The employee chuckled. They examined her again. “Your skin is nearly flawless, my dear. But I am sure you already knew of the flaw there?”

Paulina touched the mole on her cheek, the one her Papa never let her get rid of. That makeup could not hide. She had played it off over the years, but still it grated on her nerves to see it in the mirror. The employee led her to another aisle, this one filled with different creams. They grabbed a selection.

“Cover your face in this cream, and all blemishes will be removed, no matter how big or small,” They held the cream out with a flourish.

“I didn’t know anything like that existed,” Paulina said happily, looking over the cream. “How much?”

“For you, my dear, how about some cheer. You seem the type to be a cheerleader, yes?” The employee said. “Does that seem a fair price to you?”

“It’s a bit weird, but sure,” Paulina said. She gave the employee her best Casper High cheer, to which they applauded with enthusiasm.

Paulina hurried from the shop to try out her new cream. It worked like magic, her complexion even more perfect than she had ever dreamed. The mole was erased away as if it were never there. The few pimple scars she had concealed were gone as well. It even erased a small scar she had on her finger, just from where she had applied it. She wanted to dance around her room with joy, to cheer this new development in her life. But she didn’t.

Paulina returned again. The employee was leaning against the counter when she entered.

“It is so good to see you again,” The employee cheered her entrance. Paulina grinned back at them, showing off where her mole used to be. The employee eyed it with approval. “How can I help you today?”

“How do you think you can help me?” Paulina teased. The employee laughed brightly, smiling back at Paulina with fondness.

“I wonder if any have come as close to perfect as you, my dear. Let’s see how I can help,” The employee gently held Paulina’s hand and spun her in a slow circle. “My dear, there is only one thing that mars your perfection. Follow me.”

The employee led Paulina once more into the store, hand still clasped in hand. They came to a display of different makeup. The employee picked up a small container of eyeshadow. It glittered. The employee held it next to their own eye. It matched the shade they wore.

“As you can see, I definitely recommend it,” The employee said. “Wear this, and you will show no signs of aging. You could be sixty, and you will look as you are now. It may be one of our pricier products, but you will not be disappointed.”

Paulina looked at the small palette with greed.

“How much?”

“For you, my dear, I want only your name,” The employee said.

“That’s fair. My name is [ ]” [ ] said, an uncomfortable feeling rippling over her skin as she took the small palette.

“I am glad you are satisfied,” Paulina responded with a laugh, green eyes glittering with joy and something more.

Bottled Beauty: Reasonable Rates

Fair Price for Fair Folk.

#Ectober Month 2021 #Ectoberhaunt 2021 #Ectoberhaunt treat #danny phantom #Cartoons #Paulina Sanchez #My writing #this one is more creepy than horror I think

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Targets - ao3

- Chapter 3 -

Meng Yao wasn’t supposed to be for sale.

His mother had worked hard her whole life to make sure of it, refusing every offer for him no matter how tempting or how desperate their situation. He was a cultivator’s son, she told him, a sect leader’s; one day, he would return to his father’s side, and if he was going to do that, he couldn’t have his past be marred with scandal. He couldn’t have a slave contract, and he couldn’t have done any work as a whore – it was one thing to do odd jobs in a brothel, but another thing entirely to actually work on your back, and somehow, somehow, someone would find out, and he’d be ruined. They would know.

The only way for him to really make it is if he never did anything like that at all.

So when the cultivator – a real cultivator, from the looks of him, not one of the fakers they often got – walked into their brothel and asked for Meng Yao, his mother said no.

The man frowned, then turned to the owner of the brothel who shrugged, indicating that he was helpless. “The boy doesn’t belong to this establishment,” he said apologetically. “But if the venerated Immortal would prefer something more boyish, I can direct you to some of our more masculine girls, or to a neighboring establishment…”

His voice trailed off when the cultivator pulled out a large chunk of gold, about half the size of Meng Yao’s thumb.

“You can keep it all – if I get the boy, a room, and your word to tell no one else that either of us are here,” the man said.

“No!” Meng Shi exclaimed, but Meng Yao knew from the look on the brothel owner’s eyes that it was too late. This wasn’t a good brothel like the one they’d been in before – the one that had kicked them out when they decided his mother was too old and her health too poor – but a lower tier one, less rich and more desperate. A piece of gold like that was more money than all the girls put together would make in a year.

If they continued to refuse, the owner of the brothel would use force. There were the bully boys at the door – they would grab his mother and drag her away, grab him and throw him into the room, maybe tie him down, rob him of any ability to defend himself…

So Meng Yao put his hand on his mother’s arm. “It’s fine, Mother,” he said to her, hoping to offer comfort where there was none to be had, and then forced himself to smile at the cultivator. “How can this humble one best please the venerated Immortal?”

The man’s eyes flickered between them, and his frown deepened.

“The woman comes with us, same deal,” he told the owner, who nodded, eyes fixed on the gold, and never mind that both Meng Yao and his mother had now frozen in horror. There were women in the brothel who sometimes pretended to be sisters and might even be, it was a popular request by clients, but – his mother… “All right, where’s the room?”

“I’ll give you the best one in the house,” the owner said, tone fawning, and showed them the way.

By the time they were upstairs, Meng Yao was shaking like a leaf and his mother looked on the verge of weeping.

The moment the cultivator closed the door behind them, shooing the owner away, she threw herself onto the floor in front of him. “Venerated Immortal,” she said, begging, and Meng Yao averted his eyes, feeling rage build in the pit of his stomach. “Spare my son, please. I will do anything you wish –”

“You misunderstand,” the cultivator said stiffly. “Your son is safe – as are you. I’m not here for that sort of thing…boy, get her off the floor and seated somewhere, get her something to drink to calm her.”

Meng Yao got his mother into a chair, pressing some wine usually reserved for clients into her hand. By the time he was done with that, he was more puzzled than anything else, even the rage at his mother’s mistreatment fading away into confusion. “What does the venerated Immortal want?” he asked delicately, and the cultivator shrugged.

“I actually have no idea what I’m doing here,” he said frankly. “I received a message from my sect leader that told me to find and secure a ‘Meng Yao, son of Meng Shi’ from Yunping City, and when I asked around it led me to you. I was hoping you could tell me the reason.”

“Your sect leader asked for me?” Meng Yao asked blankly. “By name?”

Could it be – his mother had always said –

“You’re not from Lanling,” his mother said, wiping her eyes, expression back to fierce and calculating. “My boy is the son of the sect leader of Lanling Jin, not…”

She trailed off deliberately.

“Qinghe Nie,” the cultivator said automatically, and even folded his hands in front of him to salute – perfunctorily, but still more than most would bother with for a whore. “The message said only that you were in danger, and that I was to hide you until the sect leader could come pick you up himself.”

So it wasn’t his father, Meng Yao thought, disappointed, but still – a sect leader of a cultivation sect, knowing him by name? Sending a message from far away?

He had no idea what to think of it.

And so they waited, each one sitting awkwardly in their own place, as several shichen passed. It was already evening when there was a knock – at the window.

The window on the third floor.

The cultivator got up and opened it, and a large fierce-looking man carrying three children – one on each hip with an arm around them, and another seated on his shoulders, clutching to his hair like reins – wiggled his way through, shaking all the children off as if his arms were hurting the second his feet were on the ground.

“Is that him?” he asked, nodding at Meng Yao, and the cultivator nodded. “He’s young.”

“Thirteen,” Meng Yao said, and noted that it was probably older than any of the three children who were looking at him in fascination.

“One of Sect Leader Jin’s bastards, Sect Leader,” the cultivator reported, and Meng Yao felt something fall in the pit of his belly at the term one of. There were many like him, then – perhaps his mother’s optimism regarding his reception in Lanling City was as misplaced as her optimism in buying all those pointless cultivation manuals that he slaved over and which accomplished nothing.

“Well, that can’t be the reason, then, or the list would be thrice as long,” the sect leader said, frowning. “I’d even started wondering…no, it still makes no sense. Regardless, no point in waiting around here any longer – I saw two Wen patrols making their way through the city as I flew in, and I have no doubt they’ll find this place soon. We should be gone before they do.”

“If this humble one can ask, what is the honorable Sect Leader’s plans for my son?” Meng Shi asked, ducking her head demurely and looking up at him flirtatiously through her eyelashes, even as she leaned forward a little in a way that set off her shape to its best advantage.

“Oh no,” the sect leader said, and took two full steps backwards. Without the fierce expression on his face, he looked much younger – in fact, Meng Yao thought with wonder and maybe even a little disbelieving amusement, it seemed like this sect leader was most certainly still a teenager, and awkward with it, too. “No, I – I don’t – Gao Jianguo, do something!”

“She’s a whore, Sect Leader,” the cultivator said, rolling his eyes. “They flirt. It happens.”

The sect leader was bright red. The children were all giggling.

“Madame,” he said, bowing to her – an actual bow, respectful, not even the perfunctory dip the cultivator had given earlier, and he didn’t have to call her Madame, either. “Forgive me, I’m not…I don’t have much experience with women. My name is Nie Mingjue, sect leader of Qinghe Nie. I have reason to believe your son is in terrible danger if he remains here, and I intend to take him with me to a safe location.”

“What assurances do I have of his safety?” Meng Shi asked, and Meng Yao knew then that she intended to send him whether he wanted to go or not.

Not that he didn’t intend to go. Such an earnest sect leader, this ‘Nie Mingjue’…even if it was all a mistake or misunderstanding, which had to be what had happened, there were benefits that could be gotten here. If Meng Yao could become a servant there, learn cultivation, he could maybe save up enough to later go to his father’s side – no matter what they asked of him, it would be better than a brothel, especially one where the owner had already seen an indication of Meng Yao’s worth as chattel.

And yet…

“You have my word,” Nie Mingjue assured her.

“I won’t leave without her,” Meng Yao suddenly spoke up, and ignored his mother’s glare. He didn’t want to leave her here. He wouldn’t, not unless he was forced, which seemed likely, but he had to try his best. “If I’m in danger, then so is she. They might want to use her to lure me in.”

“That’s a good point,” Nie Mingjue said, which Meng Yao wasn’t expecting. He even nodded in approval at Meng Yao. “Very well, we’ll take you both with us. Gao Jianguo –”

“The amount I’ve already paid would be sufficient to cover any slave bond,” the cultivator said. His frown suggested he wasn’t happy about his sect leader’s actions. “There will be paperwork –”

“Only for me,” Meng Shi said quickly. “My son is free, and always has been.”

Nie Mingjue looked out the window, clearly calculating – two patrols, Meng Yao thought, this sect leader thought someone was hunting him down for some unknown reason – and then glanced at the two of them. He sighed a little, almost imperceptibly, before firming up his expression once more.

“Take Meng Shi and buy her bond,” he instructed the cultivator. “Collect anything she wants to take with her and take her back to Qinghe through safe routes. I’ll take Meng Yao with me and we’ll meet there.”

“What should I do with the ownership papers? There’s a tax for taking slaves out of the county, and people might notice –”

“Burn them,” Nie Mingjue said, and Meng Yao’s heart gave a sudden thrill of delight. “She can travel as a free woman. Make sure she sees a doctor, if she thinks she would benefit from seeing one, and cover the cost – I want her to arrive at the Unclean Realm alive and well.”

Alive and well, Meng Yao thought, even more delighted. That was a warning, no doubt about it – telling the cultivator not to take advantage of Meng Shi during his trip. And a doctor! With his sect leader ordering it, the cultivator would have to take her to a good one, not some phony sawbones, and she could finally get that cough of hers looked at…

Meng Yao would do whatever this sect leader wanted. Just for that.

(It was more than his father had ever done for them.)

“Can you handle flying with four boys?” the cultivator asked, frowning, and – flying? “Especially if you already came all the way from Qinghe, and through Yunmeng, you must be exhausted –”

“I’ll be fine,” Nie Mingjue said shortly. “He’s thirteen; he can stand on his own and hold onto me, arms around my waist, while I hold on to the others…hey, are you afraid of heights?”

That question was directed at Meng Yao.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, aiming for honest. It seemed to be what this sect leader appreciated, and Meng Yao was good at figuring out and catering to people’s likes. He’d have to exert himself especially this time. “But I’ve never gone higher than the fourth floor.”

“Well, you’re about to,” Nie Mingjue said, and his saber unsheathed itself and floated on the floor. “All right, everyone back on – you can introduce yourself in the air. We still have to make the ride back to the Lotus Pier, and I’m sure your parents are worried sick already, Jiang-gongzi.”

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #meng shi #my fic #my fics #targets

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lovely-ateez · 3 years

Text

Vampire Shift~

ꕥPosted: 5/23/21

ꕥGenre: Fluff, Smut, Angst, College!au, Horror!au

ꕥPairing: Fem!Reader x Vampire!Jongho (feat Wooyoung and Minho from skz)

ꕥWord Count: ~5.9k (whoops)

ꕥWarnings: Horror themes, Language, Thigh riding, Unprotected sex, Mentions of blood and blood sucking (please lmk if I missed anything)

ꕥTag List: @cappujinho @bobateastay

ꕥA/N: I hope you all don’t a more spooky concept! Halloween is my favorite holiday and even though its May, it’s always spooky season to me lolol. Also! Feel free to listen to Vampire Shift by All Time Low while reading this (it’s only on YouTube I cry) since this is inspired by the song :)

It was a terrible idea, really, to work the night shift at a gas station alone. Even more so when you’re a young woman whose only defense is the pepper spray on her key chain and 911 on speed dial. Alas, college bills don’t pay themselves and every spare opportunity to get cash was one I had to take.

The digital clock sitting on the counter next to me briefly flashed, indicating another hour had gone by. It was currently four a.m. and it was safe to say I was losing my mind. I’d worked for five hours now, and not a customer had come in. That was the only advantage, really. So long as no one was around my boss let me finish any assignments I had, which came in handy on more than one occasion.

I was only six paragraphs into a five page report and had been staring at my laptop screen for over an hour, feeling beyond brain dead. I was assigned the topic of financial statements and country trade deficits, and wanted to cry every minute I thought about it. I was half convinced to pay someone to write the report for me.

The ringing of a bell indicated a customer opening the door and I closed my laptop to peer around the counter, ready to greet whoever entered. The first man to catch my attention was wearing sunglasses which fazed me, but I tried not to stare. The man that followed had black hair with blond underneath, a combination that I strangely liked. Both men were donned in all back, their faces stoic. They were attractive, I had to admit, but neither were my type.

And then, the last man entered. He looked over to me as he walked through the door, giving me a nod and a slight smile. His slicked back black hair matched his black ripped jeans and highlighted his red leather jacket. He was so handsome he looked like he jumped out of a magazine and I had to suppress a ‘wow’. A string of butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I did my best to ignore them, not even knowing his name.

The three of them wandered through the aisles until I could no longer see them, and I scolded myself for being so thrown off that I forgot say any form of a greeting. I sighed and turned my attention back to my laptop, opening it and blankly staring at the screen. My ears perked when I heard the men’s hushed voices.

“Y’oughta get that girl’s number. I saw the way you looked at her.”

“Yeah, Jongho. She’s pretty cute. If you don’t get her number you know I will.”

“Shut up.” One of the men, Jongho apparently, responded with a laugh, “Let’s just get some snacks, okay? It’s gonna be a long night. Also I’m buying tonight so get whatever.”

A smile crept on my face and I looked down, fiddling with my thumbs.

They think I’m cute. Maybe Jongho’s the one in red?

I heard the bell ring once more and a girl entered who I vaguely remembered from high school. She was popular but for good reason, probably being one of the nicest people I’d ever met. Our circle of friends overlapped slightly so I’d spent a fair amount of time with her. She was smart as a whip and gorgeous all the same, which seemed to stay with her. She looked bright, long red hair falling around her face, freckles still prominent as ever.

We met eyes and she smiled, “Hey y/n!”

I smiled and waved, “Hey Annabelle. How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

“Good! I got into my dream college and it’s been great, although I’ve had to take some pretty hard classes.” She giggled, walking towards me. It’s honestly not too far from here. You go to Westgate University, right?”

I nodded and I put my laptop aside. She spoke again, genuinely excited for me, “That’s awesome! Congrats!”

“Thanks,” I smiled, “I’m taking it you got into Orholt?”

“I did! I was really-”

One of the men that entered earlier—the one still wearing sunglasses—shouted the redhead’s name and caught her attention, “Hey Anna do you want a Redbull or a Five Hour Energy?”

“Redbull! I’m not a monster.” She laughed.

The man nodded and walked toward us with several drinks and snacks in his hands.

“Oh! I want to introduce you to my boyfriend!” Annabelle turned to the man still wearing sunglasses and reached for his arm, “This is Minho. I met him at Orholt.”

Minho gave me a slight nod as I introduced myself and he placed the food and drinks on the counter. I began to scan the items, the mindless routine that I was used to by now. The loud sound of laughter made me look up, seeing the two other men approach us and place their snacks down as well. I watched them long enough to notice the way two-tone—my new affectionate name for the man with blond and black hair, I decided—shamelessly checked me out, a cocky smile on his face when I caught him. I just let out a small laugh before resuming my task, watching his confused reaction in my peripheral vision.

“Oh my god I totally forgot to introduce you to my friends.” Annabelle giggled and pointed to two-tone, “This is Wooyoung.”

“Hiya, Wooyoung.” I said with a confident smile, enjoying the way he still had a slightly confused look on his face.

“And this,” Annabelle nodded towards the man in red, “This is Jongho. Both him and Wooyoung go to Orholt, too.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jongho. I’m y/n.”

“Very nice to meet you.” The man smiled before he sent me a wink.

I had never been a particularly shy person, but as he did so my eyes darted down as I felt my face flush. I didn’t notice the gears turning in Annabelle’s head as she put the pieces together.

I placed the final items in the bag, raising my head as Annabelle addressed me, “You know I’m having a bonfire tomorrow night at my place and you should totally come!”

I stopped to think, first trying to remember if I worked the next day, then wondering if I was willing to go the bonfire when I realized I didn’t have to.

She sensed my hesitancy and her face fell, “Aw do you work tomorrow night? It’s a Saturday!”

“Oh no, I don’t. I...” I stopped to think for a minute. Although I likely didn’t know anyone else who would be there, I was familiar with Annabelle’s house, which brought me a bit of comfort, “Are all of you going?”

Annabelle gave a knowing smile, “Yes. All of us will be here.”

I nodded, accepting the credit card Jongho gave me, quickly after handing them the bags, and returning his card, “I’ll go.”

“Yay! We’ve gotta head out but I’ll send you the details. You’ve still got the same number, right?”

“Yeah I do.”

“Alrighty! I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

Annabelle left with a wave, her boyfriend on her arm and Wooyoung behind her. To my surprise, Jongho didn’t leave with them, the cocky look on his face all but telling me why he stayed.

I looked at him with wide eyes, playing innocent. “Can I help you?”

He placed an arm on the counter, his dark eyes seeming to put me under a spell. The confidence he was radiating was almost palpable and I felt myself being pulled to him. It was intimidating, to be honest.

“You’re really cute and I want your number.”

I let out a surprised laugh, “You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

“No, not really,” He propped his other arm on the counter, leaning towards me and raising an eyebrow, “So what do you say, doll?”

A smile crept on my face as I mirrored his actions and leaned towards him, “You gonna memorize my number? Or do you have a phone I can put my number into?”

Jongho’s smile got brighter as he reached to grab his phone, handing it to me. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, “I’d like to think so.”

When I handed his phone back, our fingers brushed and I could’ve sworn I felt sparks shoot through me at the simple interaction.

“Well I need to head out before the rest of them get too annoyed,” He nodded towards the exit where Annabelle, Minho, and Wooyoung left, “But it was enchanting to meet you, y/n.” He bowed, drawing a laugh from me.

“Ah yes. You as well, absolutely delightful.”

He gave me a smile, “I’ll text you later.”

"Sounds good. I’ll hold you to your word.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” And with that, he was out the door, leaving my heart a fluttering mess.

Me [8:37pm] So is there a dress code for tonight?

Annabelle [8:42pm] Nope! Wear whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m wearing this if it helps at all!

Annabelle [8:43pm] 1 Image Attached*

Me [8:45pm] So leather jackets and crop tops?

Annabelle [8:48pm] Haha sure! We can match!

Me [8:51pm] Lol bet. See you at eleven :)

Annabelle [8:51pm] See you then!

I started the process of slipping on a white cropped top followed by my light washed ripped jeans. I knew I was getting ready far earlier than I could have, but something about new events made me anxious and I had to make sure I looked nice. I giggled at the black leather jacket I was throwing over my shoulders, not having worn it since high school. In the middle of debating whether or not I should add another layer of mascara to my lashes, my phone dinged.

New Number [8:59pm] Y/n this better be you. This is Jongho and I’m texting you for a really important reason and I need you to reply quick

Me [9:00pm] Yeah it’s me. What’s going on are you okay??

New Number [9:02pm] I’m gonna go grab some food before I head to Anna’s. You wanna come with?

Me [9:02pm] Oh my god don’t do that to me, you buffoon. You scared me so bad rip

[New Number name changed to A Cute Buffoon]

Me [9:03pm] But sure I’m down lol. Here’s my address btw

Me [9:03pm] 1 Location Shared*

It occurred to me perhaps a bit too late that I was sharing my address with someone that I’d met only once and in a gas station.

I mean, he’s friends with Annabelle so he’s gotta be good right? God I hope so. I thought to myself.

A Cute Buffoon [9:04] Then it’s a date :) I live pretty close so I’ll be over in 10. That work for you?

Me [9:06pm] Fine with me!

A Cute Buffoon [9:06pm] Sounds good. I’ll see you soon ;)

I set down my phone and thanked myself for already doing my makeup. I checked myself out in the mirror, satisfied with my appearance and proud of how well my makeup turned out. I grabbed my bottle of perfume and spritzed the liquid in the air, letting it gradually fall on me so it wouldn’t be too overpowering.

You look beautiful, babe.

The waiting game was harder than I thought, not knowing what to do except awkwardly sit around and play an assortment of phone games. When exactly ten minutes had passed I heard my doorbell ring and I lifted myself from my couch, grinning at his punctuality.

I opened the door to see Jongho holding a bouquet of flowers, a smug look on his face. “Lovely to meet you here, stranger.”

I wanted to make a joke back but I couldn’t seem to think of anything, too surprised by the flowers in his hands. It wasn’t anything extravagant, the small bouquet of violets, but I felt my heart swell.

It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

My voice was small when I spoke, “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

His eyebrows furrowed as a confused look painted his face, “Really?”

I nodded, taking the flowers from his outreached hands and smelling their sweet fragrance, “They’re beautiful.”

My eyes flickered to his, the tender look on his face making me feel as if I was melting on the spot, “You’re beautiful.”

I squealed, my face undoubtedly turning pink while my mind short circuited. I’d never become so shy around someone before and the only thing I could think of to say in response was another ‘thank you’ followed by ‘I’ll go get a vase for these.’

I opened my door further, rummaging through my cabinets for a vase when I noticed Jongho was still standing by the door, “You can come in, you know? That’s why I opened the door.”

He laughed nervously, “Sorry about that. Force of habit, I guess.”

I raised my eyebrows in a teasing manner, “What? Are you a vampire? Can you only come in if someone invites you?”

I thought I saw a flicker of shock on his face for a moment, but it was gone before I could register it and I shrugged it off, my eyes finding the perfect vase for the flowers.

“It’s just how I was raised.”

“I get that.” I placed the flowers in the vase, giving them a bit of water before walking up to Jongho and gently patting his cheek, “Your good manners are appreciated.”

He laughed in surprise, full gummy smile on display as he playfully swatted my hand away from his face, “Alright, alright. Let’s head out already.”

I made a sound of agreement before noticing a slight pink on his ears. I was temped to tease him, but ultimately decided to save it for later. If I could fluster him once I knew I could do it again.

The diner we went to was one I’d never heard of before, let alone been to, and I was beyond frustrated that I didn’t even know about it’s existence. It was an adorable fifties style diner and even the attire the waiters were wearing fit the theme.

“This is the cutest place to ever exist, I’m convinced.” I said as we sat down on the same side of a bright red booth.

“I really hoped you would like it. This is my favorite restaurant ever and they have fantastic milkshakes. If you’d like to share one for desert, I’m all for it.” A wink.

I bit my lip and hid my face in the menu that was placed in front of us, thankful for any method of escape.

“You’re so cute.”

“Ahh no don’t say things like that.” I giggled from behind the menu.

His hand grabbed the top of the menu, pulling it down so he could see me, “Why’s that?”

“Because you make me nervous. Like a good nervous!” I tried to explain, which only resulted in becoming even more embarrassed, “I-I mean I’m excited to be around you but I’m also nervous. I hope that doesn’t sound weird.” I cringed at myself. Never in my life did I think I’d be blushing and stuttering over some man, but my god did he prove me wrong.

“Not at all,” he reached over to take my hand in his, “because I feel it, too.”

Before I could properly react our waitress came over, taking our order and effectively saving me from becoming a human tomato.

We handed our menus back to her after ordering and she looked at us with a soft smile, “You two make a cute couple.”

While I was a bit too stunned to say anything, Jongho didn’t seem to have the same problem and went along with it, “Thank you, ma’am. That’s kind of you to say.”

When she left, Jongho leaned closer to me, “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by saying that we we’re a couple. I thought that-”

“No, I didn’t mind it!” I bit my tongue after likely saying that way too fast with far too much enthusiasm, but I meant it, “I didn’t mind it,” I said again, softer this time.

The tips of his ears once again turned a faint shade of pink, “Good to know.”

The food was as wonderful as it possibly could’ve been, their fries alone being one of the best things I’d ever consumed. Just as Jongho suggested, we shared a milkshake, which led to shy eye contact and laughter and my crush becoming stronger by the minute.

Just as Jongho paid and we were about to leave, a certain song began to play and he looked at me with an air of mischief, holding out his hand to me, “Dance with me.”

I took his hand, trying to hide my smile but failing. He led me away from the table and next to the jukebox. The area surrounding it was more open, probably with the intention for people to dance near it. He grabbed my waist, holding the hand of mine that wasn’t placed on his chest and looking at me in a way that could make any woman fall in love on the spot. We swayed to the music and I couldn’t help but feel full. Like I’d found all that I’d ever need.

Put your head on my shoulder~

“Do you know this song?” He asked with a smile.

I scoffed, “Of course I do! It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s one of mine, too.”

Hold me in your arms, baby~

I mouthed along to the words as I felt the need to prove it to him. As if to one up me, Jongho began to sing along, his gorgeous voice amazing me.

Squeeze me oh so tight, show me~

That you love me, too~

I blushed as he looked at me while singing along, becoming a bit flustered himself when the lyrics clicked with him.

Put your lips next to mine dear~

Won’t you kiss me once, baby~

As if we were in sync our eyes darted to the other’s lips at the same time. I could feel Jongho’s breathing becoming heavier before he said in a hushed tone, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” Was all I could respond before I pressed my lips to his, fireworks igniting inside me when he kissed me back. His lips were so soft and warm and as crazy as it sounded, he felt like home. I felt him smile against my lips as the music continued to play.

Maybe you and I will fall in love~

The fire was loud, crackling and lighting up the faces of all those crowded those around it. It was essentially the only source of light in the dark of the night, except for the distant lights still on in Annabelle’s house. My hands were interlocked with Jongho’s as we sat around it’s warmth, both of us finding it hard to separate from one another.

Conversation was flowing all around us, and I was relieved to find that everyone I had talked to was kind and welcoming. I was more nervous than I realized, but having Jongho next to my side alone calmed me. Someone around the fire mentioned an old story involving Annabelle and I began to wonder where she was, having not seen her since Jongho and I first arrived. I mentioned I was going to look for her and he nodded, at first wanting to join me but then getting pulled into conversation with one of his former classmates. I told him I’d head off on my own and he nodded again.

I looked around what seemed to be the entire property and still there was no sight of her. At that moment I heard yelling coming from her house, startling me. I felt my blood run cold when I recognized one of the voices as Annabelle’s. The yelling didn’t sound like it was out of fear, but instead more aggressive, out of pure anger. Without thinking I ran inside, hoping to calm the situation but instead found what seemed to be out of a work of fiction.

An unfamiliar man was on the ground, obviously trying to get away from a hidden figure before him that seemed to be cloaked in darkness. He let out a sound that I’d never heard a human make, one that I couldn’t even compare to something I’d heard before, and a shiver ran down my back. As the figure took a step forward I recognized it as Annabelle, or what seemed to be some version of her. Her normally grey eyes were now bright red, sharp fangs on display as she snarled at the man. A group of people were surrounding them, alarmed looks on their faces but hardly trying to intervene.

“What the hell?” I whispered, my eyes wide as I tried to back away without anyone noticing. But of course, I just had to step on an empty soda can, all eyes pointing my way. As I looked at the people around me, their expressions seemed to mirror mine and I swallowed, suddenly feeling immensely claustrophobic.

I met eyes with Annabelle and she seemed to change in a flash, her eyes returning to their former color and fangs disappearing. She looked more panicked than I had ever seen her which only scared me more. She was always able to keep her stressors under control, but as she stared back at me, I saw a version of her I never had before.

I was barely able to form a sentence, adrenaline coursing through me at a rampant rate, “Um...”

Annabelle slowly walked towards me, “Oh—hey! Sorry I disappeared for a while but how’s the party going? Are you having fun?” Panic was still evident in her voice but I knew she was trying to keep a hold of the situation.

“I...I don’t-”

A stern voice came from left, and I nervously turned to meet Jongho, an unreadable expression crossing his face, “Y/n.”

“Yeah?” My voice squeaked as I began to regret agreeing to come along in the first place, still hyper aware of all the eyes on me.

“Come with me.”

His eyes softened at my panicked state and he held out a hand, “Please?”

I was hesitant, but being anywhere away from the crowd and whatever Annabelle turned into seemed to be a good idea. I took his hand and watched as he exchanged a look with Annabelle that seemed to calm her. Turning on his heels he led me back to the bonfire, sitting in a chair and motioning for me to do the same. Seeing no one around us gave me a feeling of both anxiety and comfort, and I wasn’t quite sure which feeling was winning at the moment.

“Well I’m sure you have plenty of questions.” He started, “I won’t lie to you and try to convince you what you saw wasn’t real, because it was, but I need you to know that no one is going to harm you. That guy is Anna’s roommate and they get into an argument at least once a week. Sometimes it can be nasty, but they never get physical and neither would ever hurt anyone unprovoked. No one here would.”

I was silent for a few minutes, trying to process what I saw on top of the time bomb of information he dropped on me. “Is she...is everyone....are you a vampire?” I whispered the last words, almost too stunned and afraid to say out loud.

He smiled slightly, his kind eyes making me feel safe. “Yes. We’re what you’d call vampires.”

I took a breath, almost afraid to hear the answer to my question, “Am I in any danger by being here?”

“No, everyone here is good. They don’t pose any threat. There are plenty of dangerous vampires but we stay away from them. Besides,” He placed an arm around my waist, playfulness in his eyes, “If there were, I’d protect you from them.”

“Oh? And how don’t I know you’re not dangerous?”

He leaned closer to me, clearly enjoying this, “You don’t, I suppose. Doesn’t that make it fun?”

“That’s very much debatable,” I smiled for a moment before a frown took over, “Everyone just seemed really...I don’t know, startled I guess?”

Jongho let out a loud sigh, looking down at the ground for a few seconds before looking back up at me, “Humans aren’t normally invited to these parties. It’s assumed that everyone here is a vampire. The perfume that you’re wearing, whatever the hell it is, is masking your scent. If I didn’t meet you before today I wouldn’t have known you were human. I guess Anna didn’t tell everyone, either.” He placed a hand on my knee and looked at me with kind eyes, “How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly calm considering that I just learned vampires exist.”

Jongho laughed, “Yeah I’d say you’re taking it pretty well. Like I said earlier though, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of questions, so fire away.”

“Yeah I have a few.” I hesitated, hoping he wouldn’t be offended by my question, “Exactly how old are you?”

“Oh are you gonna age shame me?”

“No but it’s probably an important thing to know...since we kissed and all.”

He laughed again and leaned back in his chair, placing his arms behind his head, “How old do you think I am?”

I used his question as an excuse for my eyes to wander over his body. He was beyond attractive, very clearly fit and he knew it, which equal parts pissed me off and turned me on. As hard as I tried, I kept finding myself being pulled to his thighs. Even through his jeans I could tell he had strong thighs and I had to press my fingernails into my palm to keep from drooling. “From your appearance? Early twenties. From what age fiction usually tells us vampires are? I’d guess you’re a hundred and three.”

Jongho nodded with a smile, “I’m not quite that old but that’s a fair guess. You had it right the first time. I’m a pure born and we actually age, but we don’t age as quickly as humans. I’m twenty.”

“Pure born?”

“It means both of my parents are vampires.”

I nodded as another question came to mind, a smile on my lips. “Do you sparkle in the daylight?”

“Oh my god,” He covered his face with his hands, a mixture of a groan and a laugh escaping his mouth, “No, we do not sparkle in daylight, “His hands came to rest on his knees, “But it sucks that we really shouldn’t be in direct sunlight for over two hours a day. That’s normally the rule to go by. It’ll burn us if we’re in it for much longer than that.”

“So do werewolves and witches and everything like that exist, too?”

“Yeah pretty much. We don’t all get along, but we have to coexist. It’s something we’ve struggled with for a while, unfortunately. Basically everything you’d believe to be supernatural exists.”

I was silent for a while, not really knowing what else to say.

“Y/n? Are you doing okay? If you’re not comfortable being here I can drive you home right now or if you’d rather be alone I can call an Uber or—”

My heart skipped a beat at his kindness. “No, I’m okay. I guess I’m just surprised I’m learning about this just now.”

“We do a good job of hiding it. Also it was probably a given, but keep this as a secret if you can. Having a lot of people know about our existence can be risky.”

I gave him a silent nod, unintentionally leaning closer to him. The sound of approaching footsteps made me jump into Jongho’s arms. I didn’t know why I found comfort in him, knowing that he could be dangerous as well, but he’d been nothing but sweet to me. I had no reason to fear him.

Annabelle approached us but stopped, taking a few steps back when she saw how I was buried in Jongho’s arms.

“Hey y/n.” She rubbed her arm, looking down as if she’d done something wrong.

“I guess Jongho probably told you everything at this point. I’m really sorry if I scared you and I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore.” Even in the dark I could see tears beginning to stream down her cheeks and I felt a pain in my chest.

I got up from Jongho’s hold and wrapped my arms around her, feeling her stiffen, “I trust you, Annabelle.”

Those four words seemed to relax her and she returned my hug, still sniffling, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We aren’t supposed to tell anyone and I thought you might hate me—”

I pulled back, “Why the hell would I hate you? You’re still you.”

She laughed through tears, gripping me tighter, thanking me over and over for not pushing her away.

We’re gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay.

Not too long after, Jongho drove me home. The ride was more silent than when we were headed to Annabelle’s house, but the air wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. Feeling tired, I laid my head on Jongho’s shoulder, faintly hearing ‘sleep well, baby’ before drifting asleep.

When I woke, I was in my bed. I reached for my phone on the bedside table and found a little note placed next to it that read:

I hope you don’t mind that I carried you inside. I tried to wake you for like five minutes but you were out cold. Anyways, I had a really good time with you yesterday and I hope you had fun too :) Text me when you wake so I know you’re okay. -J

I looked at my clock and saw that it was still early, but I texted Jongho anyway.

Me [3:00am] Not sure if you’re still up, but I really enjoyed yesterday, too. I’m exhausted so I’m gonna go back to sleep but I just wanted to say I’m okay and everything is good :))

A Cute Buffoon [3:00am] Sleep well, darling. We can talk in the morning

It had been roughly a month since Jongho and I started dating, and while I felt like I knew him pretty well, we had only known each other a little over a month, on top of the fact that he was a vampire which was essentially an entire separate culture. I’d asked him most questions I had early throughout our relationship, but one in particular kept replaying in my mind.

We were currently sitting on the couch in my apartment, cuddling each other. The TV was on but neither of us were really watching it. I was far more interested in the warm body in front of me, and based off of how Jongho was looking at me, the feeling was mutual.

I bit my lip, anxiously mulling over the question I’d wanted to ask him for weeks. I didn’t know how he would take it, let alone how I would bring it up, but I needed to ask at some point. Knowing he could probably sense my nerves, I gave in. “Jongho, can a human turn into a vampire?”

He hummed, turning to face me. “Why do you ask?”

“I just...I didn’t know if it could happen or not.”

Jongho chuckled, “Yeah it’s possible. It’s a long ass process to go through though, and there’s a lot that can go wrong, so it rarely happens.”

I shifted in my seat, trying not to appear overly interested. “Why is that? What can go wrong?

He smiled and raised a brow, his cocky persona resurfacing, “You sound so eager to know, dear. Do you want to become a vampire?” His eyes briefly flickered towards my lips before he tilted his head, dragging his soft lips across my neck. I let out a gasp when I felt the tips of his teeth lightly scraping the skin, “Or maybe you’re just looking for an excuse for me to put my mouth on you?”

Like with anything that exuded him, I felt myself becoming quickly overwhelmed, my mind now hazy and distant. I shut my eyes in an attempt to gain some semblance of control over myself.

“Your thoughts are swirling, doll.” Jongho began leaving gentle kisses along the side of my jaw, “Don’t think too much. Just let me take care of you. Okay?”

“Okay.” I said through a short breath, knowing we’d just have to have the conversation another time.

We’d had sex before, so it wasn’t like this was new territory for us, but every time felt like the first, leaving me just as out of breath each time.

He lifted me and placed me on his thigh, dragging me across his flexed muscles. I felt my eyes roll back at the simple motion, my need growing at an embarrassing rate. I grabbed his shoulders as I began to drag myself against him, whines and whimpers spilling from my lips.

“God you’re hot,” Jongho said through hot breaths, beginning to kiss my neck, no doubt leaving marks.

“Thanks I try.” I managed to say, pleased when Jongho laughed.

“You don’t even have to, and it’s completely unfair.” His hands moved under my shirt and danced along my skin, “It’s like you’re an angel come to life.”

I let out a loud moan, feeling tears well in my eyes from his praise, “You always make me feel so beautiful when I’m with you.”

Jongho responded with a smile, carrying me to my bedroom and laying me down on the bed while hurriedly discarding both of our clothes.

“You’re always so eager, babe.”

He nuzzled my neck as he climbed on top of me, his hands finding my own and holding them, “As if you’re not.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

He then moved in between my thighs, teasing me with his fingers as he ran them along my wet slit, occasionally rubbing my clit, drawing small whines from me.

“Jongho please just fuck me already.”

“Sweetheart, do you even think you’re wet enough for me?” He cooed.

Feeling frustrated, I pushed my fingers inside myself with ease, pulling them out and spreading them so he could see my essence dripping down my fingers, “I don’t know you tell me.” I said with far more sass than I intended.

Jongho’s eyes widened at the sight and wasted no time positioning his cock at my entrance, pushing in and letting out the most beautiful groans.

Neither of us ever bothered to use protection because, to put it simply, vampires couldn’t get humans pregnant. It was only possible when both partners were vampires, and we took full advantage of that.

“Fuck—baby you feel amazing. You’re so warm and tight ohmygod.” Jongho moaned as he began to move, thrusting in and out of me at a steady pace.

I clenched around him, loving when he was vocal. His sounds helped get me off just as much as his actions, at times it seemed.

“You feel...really good...too.” I said through heavy breaths. And as much as I wanted to last longer in bed, with Jongho, I never could.

“I don’t know if it’s because you’re a vampire and you’ve got like magic powers or something or maybe you’re just a sex god—but holy shit...I’m close.”

He threw back his head and had the audacity to laugh, something I really couldn’t stay mad at with how good he was making me feel. “Babe it’s been like six minutes.”

“Don’t be an asshole.” I joked, my laugh turning into a moan. It only spurred Jongho on, making him angle one of my legs up higher, hitting deeper inside of me.

“I know you’re close, baby. I can feel it. Cum for me, baby girl. Let go for me.”

He reached down to tease my sensitive nub, drawing quick circles until I was seeing stars, chanting his name like a prayer.

After Jongho came down from his high, he disappeared into the bathroom as he always did, coming back with a warm towel. As he pressed the towel to my thighs I tried to ask again.

“So...about the human to vampire thing?”

“Well,” Jongho sighed, “I didn’t think I’d be able to distract you forever.” He smiled, “It’s mostly done because couples want to stay together. The thing is though, the vampire obviously gets a taste of the human’s blood and it can be hard to stop once you’ve marked them, especially since smell is such a big allure for us.”

He took a long breath, “Then the human will almost always pass out, and needs to be taken care of for the next couple days because they’ll be so weak. Another problem is that the scent of their blood will be amplified during those days and it’ll be harder for the vampire to not, you know...” He looked away, not able to say the words. I knew what he meant, we both did. In some cases, vampires would kill their human partners for of their blood. Sometimes it was beyond their control. Just a primal need that would betray them. “Then their scent is more easily detected by other vampires and the whole thing is just kinda a mess. I think I’ve only heard of five attempts and only one of them was successful.”

I nodded, not really knowing what to say.

“And then on top of it all, it can be harder for the human to adjust and it can put a lot of pressure on the relationship. Human and vampire relationships are dangerous.”

His face was serious as he ran a hand through my hair. I looked up at him and leaned into his touch.

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, a shy behavior I hadn’t seen from him before, “I guess it’s important for you to decide then.” His eyes met mine again, “Is this still something you want to continue?”

“Our relationship?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course, are you crazy? You mean the world to me.” I swallowed, realizing he hadn’t voiced his own thoughts, “What about you? Do you want this?”

“I think you have a pretty good idea of what I want.” He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, his eyes sparkling.

“Hey Jongho?”

He hummed, looking at me.

“I want to spend forever with you.”

#ateez #kpop #imagines #ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez smut #atzinc #ateez vampire au #vampire au #jongho smut #jongho imagines

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succulentsunrise · 3 years

Text

A Chance of Courage

- Small talks, small actions and small decisions lead to something momentous.

My piece for the YamiChar Week, Day 2! It is both a stand-alone and a continuation to my Day 1 fic 🥰

Edit: I've added a small directory!

Day 1 | All | Day 3

It is funny how sometimes even the smallest things can become an obsession in one’s mind. For Charlotte Roselei, this was the meeting she had had with Yami Sukehiro in the gardens a week prior. A cordial, common meeting - but the substance of it empty. Her mind kept replaying that meeting, her heart aching and leaping into conclusions. She knew that the more she thought about it, the more she was adding things into the scene. More meaningful stares. More subtle hints. The reality was probably something more reasonable.

“Sis?” Sol’s voice woke her up from her thoughts.

Charlotte turned towards the younger woman, straightening her back and trying to concentrate on her surroundings. They were sitting together outside, in the garden. Ah - that was why her thoughts had turned to the meeting again. The thought distracted her once more. She was in some aspect conscious that Sol was talking to her, but she found it difficult to concentrate on that. Sharing a moment like this with Yami would be impossible. He wasn’t the type of man to sit outside and read poetry. Charlotte liked poetry. It was proper and beautiful and oh - so romantic. She blinked, trying to listen to Sol again. What a beautiful morning it was…

“Sis, you’re not listening.”

The accusation wasn’t without reason, causing Charlotte to look slightly embarrassed and apologetic. She spoke gently, her eyes lowering down to the poetry book on her lap.

“My apologies, Sol.”

“What’s on your mind?” Sol asked, her young face painted with curiosity.

It would be too embarrassing to tell. Too difficult to tell to Sol. Charlotte shook her head with a small smile.

“I was wondering what inspired these authors to write so beautifully,” she lied.

“They probably couldn’t say what they wanted out loud, y’know,” Sol laughed with a grin.

Charlotte considered her for a moment. Sol was a vibrant person, full of life and brashness. She didn’t stop to consider things yet. She lived in the moment. Charlotte knew Sol looked up to her. Sol was still easily impressionable. Any opinion Charlotte presented, she echoed louder and coarser. Yes, Sol wasn’t refined, not like a noble. Perhaps it was what endeared her to Charlotte. Perhaps she liked coarse people. People like Sol and Yami. They both disarmed the wall of thorns she had built in her quest for control over her own magic.

They probably couldn’t say what they wanted out loud.

Charlotte found it a rather apt remark. Perhaps she should write one? No. Yami wouldn’t understand anything about poetry, and in any case, it would be rather too embarrassing. It was already embarrassing to try to come to terms with the fact that the ruffian had stolen her heart. With a sigh, Charlotte shook her head.

“You do not admire the ingeniousness of the poets,” she remarked to Sol. “Perhaps because you always have the right words for everything.”

Sol laughed a little more, its gay sound ringing in the air.

“I’ve got the words, alright, but sometimes they come out wrong! Or sometimes I mean to say something, but I say something else instead, something that I wasn’t supposed to say at all!”

“That’s because you speak quicker than you think,” Charlotte suggested, turning back to her poetry book.

Sol didn’t seem to mind her comment, and instead returned to her own project. She had decided to try embroidering on Charlotte’s insistence. So far, she seemed to be somewhat frustrated by the actual process, though delighted by the results.

Later that evening, Charlotte visited the marketplace at the Royal Capital. She never quite liked these trips. There were too many shouts, too many men staring, too many awed sighs. She steeled her face into a cold stare to keep people from approaching her and simply strode towards her destination: an antiquarian bookshop. It was a gold mine for old poetry books, and she had become a regular there by now. Her visit there was simple and sweet. The shopkeeper recommended a new arrival - a rather old poetry book by a rather old poet. Flipping through the pages, Charlotte had approved of its contents and taken it. Then, business concluded, she left. As she glanced around herself on the road, her gaze picked up a familiar figure far in the distance. The combination of dark hair, black cloak and the relaxed style of walking was impossible to not recognize. Yami. Next to him was one of his subordinates - Charlotte couldn’t quite remember his name. She considered for a moment going after them and talking, but her pride won over. She wouldn’t know what to say. In any case, it was too embarrassing, running after a man. Charlotte turned to the opposite direction, deciding to take the long way home. This time she tried specifically not to think of Yami. She avoided the parks of the Royal Capital with the exact purpose of not remembering their meeting. She kept the poetry book she had just bought out of her sight and she stopped herself from wondering about what Yami was doing here. She tried to concentrate on the other people wandering around: a group of young girls giggling and whispering in a group, several workers sitting together on a break, young children running across the street…

It was an impulse that made Charlotte stop at a street food vendor. She wasn’t especially hungry, but it had passed enough time from the last time she had eaten. A sweet smell had caught her attention, and the sight of the first berries of the year had enthralled her. She happily bought a snack and found herself a place nearby to eat it. Then, Charlotte sunk to her thoughts once more. She should’ve taken Sol with, most likely. Sol would’ve liked such a sweet snack. It’d be difficult to take one with, though. Would it stay good - and if she took one, wouldn’t she need to buy the whole squad some? No, it was too much trouble. Charlotte leaned her face to her hand and sighed. She’d just have to bring Sol here some other time. She couldn’t take the whole squad. For now she would just enjoy the atmosphere of the city, eat her little snack and go home. There were still some reports to be written. Charlotte’s thoughts became immediately busy with planning. She’d first write that one, then turn to the mission business - and then there was that case of misconduct from one of the girls. Yes, that would be very important to investigate. She would make sure there was something in that accusation before she’d let it slip through her fingers.

A series of voices caught Charlotte’s attention as she pondered her duties.

“--it’s great for all tastes, Captain!” a warm, insistent tone explained, half-apologetic, half-excited. “You could bring anyone here and they’d find what they’d like!”

The young man speaking was dressed in greens - Charlotte recognized him immediately as that subordinate of Yami’s. Her gaze moved quickly next to the man. Yes, Yami was with him. Scratching the back of his neck as he was squinting at the street vendor’s food, he seemed unimpressed and unwilling to be there.

“Just get what you want, and let’s go,” she heard Yami grunt.

It was clear they were here because of the subordinate. Somehow, while Charlotte had tried to avoid them, they had run to Charlotte. She felt a slight flush come to her face. Yami moved away from the vendor, waiting at the side for the subordinate to pick what he wanted. Charlotte stood up, impulse taking over. Several things jumped in her mind: the meeting, the fact that poets couldn’t say what they wanted, the fact that Yami was right there and that Yami was coarse like Sol, and that Sol spoke quicker than she thought. They didn’t make much sense like that, but they were what drove Charlotte to walk up to Yami.

“Oh, hey.”

Yami’s greeting expressed his surprise well. The eyes that stared at her were shrouded in that dumb gaze. Charlotte spoke fast and breathily, forgetting to draw air while speaking. She didn’t want the subordinate to hear.

“I was wondering if you’d meet me tomorrow evening.”

“Tomorrow?”

Yami’s gaze flickered to the skies. He scratched his cheek.

“Look at you,” he then answered, and Charlotte could swear there was a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Sure.”

“Tomorrow then. Let’s say at six, at the--”

“--at the Grove,” Yami interrupted with a smirk.

Charlotte’s composure faltered, the stream of words sputtering to an end. She felt her face become fully red as she tried to regain her ability to speak. The Grove? It wasn’t the one she had planned to suggest, but it was an alright dining place. Not as fine as she had thought of - but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Perhaps because she hadn’t planned it out properly yet. From the corner of her eye, she saw Yami’s subordinate turn to look for his captain. She didn’t want him to see this.

“Cat got your tongue? The establishment not good enough?” Yami teased.

Yes, it was teasing. Charlotte could recognize it, even when his expression looked hurt and insulted. He had perfected that look.

“It’s fine,” Charlotte muttered, embarrassed and caught off-guard.

Yami smiled.

It was a smug smile.

Charlotte whirled around and went back to where she had been sitting, picking up her things and leaving with her half-eaten snack. She couldn’t bear to stay there any longer. No, she needed to go and work on the reports.

That was - if she could concentrate on them after this.

#Yami Sukehiro #Charlotte Roselei #black clover #yamichar #yamichar week 2021 #yamichar week

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years

Text

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27 Part Two - Suicidal Misunderstanding AU

Continuation of this

By the time the hovercar finally pulled into the temple, Obi-Wan’s tremors had mostly quieted. Cody awkwardly manhandled him out the vehicle door. Obi-Wan didn’t resist; he mostly seemed to be dealing with the overwhelming situation by refusing to open his eyes.

“Master?” Cody absently noticed that Anakin’s robe was tied modestly, with no other layers peaking out underneath; wherever he was before Cody called, he had left half-dressed and in a hurry.

Obi-Wan started shaking again, burying his face into Cody’s pauldron.

“Yeesh- you’re really a wreck,” Anakin observed bluntly but not without sympathy. “Honestly, you’re taking all the fun out of the situation. What’s the point of getting drunk if you act so pathetic that your smug padawan can’t even mock you afterwards?” Anakin hesitantly laid a hand on his master’s shoulder.

It was uncertain whether it was the words or the touch that succeeding in garnering a positive response, but finally Kenobi seemed to pull himself together. With a deep breath, the high general straightened up, opening his eyes to look Skywalker square in the face. He continued to hold eye-contact, expression gradually shifting from steely resolve to open faced delight.

“ANAKIN!” Obi-Wan flung himself at his former padawan with obvious joy. “OH ANAKIN! IT’S YOU! IT’S REALLY YOU!” They staggered with the force of Obi-Wan’s enthusiastic bear hug.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Anakin managed to get out, shocked by his Master’s uncharacteristically loud and emotional greeting, as well as slightly breathless from the intense grip. Obi-Wan didn’t answer; he just held Anakin tighter.

“Man, what did you drink?” he tried to ask instead, deciding to return the hug fully and deal with any later consequences later.

Obi-Wan shifted back enough to make eye-contact again. His brow furrowed in thought. “Just some Jawa beer to wash down the spice doses.”

“SPICE DOSES?!?” Cody and Anakin both shouted in alarm. Anakin grabbed at Obi-Wan’s face, examining the man’s pupils before pulling back his lip to look at his gums. “You don’t look like you’re dosed up. And the only thing you smell like is middling quality alcohol.” he concluded doubtfully. “Are you sure that’s what you took?”

Obi-Wan stopped to think again “The Jawas that sold it seemed pretty confident. I would be more likely to entertain the possibility that I was ripped off were you not standing here with me.”

“I- Wwhere- When would you have even bought spice from Jawas?” Anakin asked, exchanging bewildered looks with Commander Cody.

“They seem to like stopping by my hut, even when I don’t have anything to steal or buy. I suppose there’s not many opportunities for sentient contact out on in the wastes,” He mused.

Anakin only looked more confused, reasonably confident that he would have known if Obi-Wan owed a home on Tatooine.

“Heart rate was slightly elevated to normal on the ride over, sir.” Cody added dutifully. “Well within average human normal, and not consistent with spice use or alcohol poisoning.”

“His presence in the force is... strange,” Anakin said while patting Obi-Wan soothingly on the back. “I’d have to take him to the healers to confirm, but my best guess is he's having a bad reaction to something he drank. There are certain alcohols that can cause side-effects and unexpected reactions in force-sensitives. Though I can’t believe that after all the lectures he’s given me, he would be stupid enough to drink one.”

“He...did have an unknown mixed drink a bartender gave him on the house,” Cody said with a sinking sense of failure. “Could this have been a targeted attack?”

Skywalker clearly looked pissed at the idea “If it was, then that bartender committed an act of treason.” Only the fact that he was still supporting Ob-Wan’s weight (in what was rapidly approaching the second-longest hug they had ever shared) kept him from taking command of the troopers to interrogate a bartender.

“Sir, do you want me to accompany you to medical and make a report?” Cody asked.

Anakin hesitated, thinking while Obi-Wan rested his chin on his former padawan’s shoulder. As amusing as the idea was in theory, he didn’t really want to humiliate a vulnerable, emotional Obi-Wan by dragging him through the heart of the temple to be gawked at and judged.

“No.” He finally decided, “Even if he somehow managed to miss the fact that he was being poisoned in a civilian bar, he’s more than capable of processing toxins on his own, and I’m more than capable of monitoring him overnight. We’ve got a full field med-kit in our quarters- I can take a blood sample tonight, and ask him what he wants to do with it once he sobers up in the morning.”

Obi-Wan readjusted slightly as Anakin shrugged, “It’s also possible that he just, you know, overdid it drinking, which isn’t anyone’s business but his own. I mean, he hasn’t exactly had the opportunity to cut loose when he’s a High General all the time; his tolerance might not have been where he was expecting.”

Cody saluted in acknowledgement of the command decision. He ruthlessly quashed any doubts, reminding himself that General Kenobi had, in fact, asked for General Skywalker by name, and Skywalker was likely to better informed on Jedi responses to alcohol.

“Master, let’s get you to our quarters so you can sleep this off,” Anakin reluctantly pulled back from was now officially the longest hug Obi-Wan had ever given him. “Can you walk by yourself, or do you want me to help?”

The unusually peaceful smile Obi-Wan was wearing started to slide away. “Our quarters? Our quarters were destroyed. There’s nothing to find there now but ash,” he stated, as if gently reminding Anakin of a known tragedy.

Cody, still standing by, sucked in a breath.

“Besides,” he continued mater of factly, “You were barely ever in them at this point anyway. Even for a dream, it would be a lot more realistic for me to go to my quarters and sit in the dark trying to memorize casualty lists, while you’re out somewhere unknown, carousing with Padme presumably.”

“Carousing with Padme?! I - why would you- Master!” Anakin fumbled out, addressing the last point first before processing the rest.

“And is that seriously what you do when you have time off? Just sit and memorize the names of everyone who died during the war? That’s - that’s seriously sad Obi-Wan, we are talking about that when you sober up.” Not giving Obi-Wan the chance to defend his extremely sad hobby, Anakin plowed on.

“And our quarters are fine, I know that- uh- I know I haven’t been around a lot, but I was just in there earlier today, they look practically the same as they did when I was a padawan. Whatever you saw, here and now - I promise you - here and now the temple is fine. We’ll talk about your vision or your hallucination once you sober up, I promise.” Anakin ended emphatically, gripping Obi-Wans shoulders and staring directly into his eyes.

The miniature rant seemed to work.

“That sounds nice,” Obi-Wan said smiling, “I would love to see our old rooms- I know it didn’t really matter either way to you, but I always took comfort in the fact that you never bothered with requesting a new room after you were knighted. I know, I know that between how rarely we were temple based and Padme, it probably just didn’t cross your mind, but it was nice to have some tangible reminder of our connection, even as the war and the growing darkness stole everything else.”

Anakin truly didn’t know how to respond, the raw emotional honesty somehow even more painful than the crushing hug. Obi-Wan reached up to smooth back his hair like he was still a child. He then walked a few steps to face the extremely out-of-depth Commander Cody.

Not hesitating, Obi-Wan pulled Cody into a tender hug which he couldn’t help but lean into. The commander brought his arms up and around but hesitated to actually make contact, instead ghosting his hands along the general’s back.

“I always wanted to do that,” Obi-Wan whispers into Cody’s ear. “I can never thank you enough for all you’ve done; I never would have gotten through the war without you. I wish...I wish I could tell you that I consider you one of the best of men, and one of the best of friends. But... I can’t. Even if I abandoned my last mission to search you out, even if I succeeded in finding you, you would never allow me close enough to do this.”

Cody’s heart is racing, trying to decode the General’s words over the ringing white noise in his ears. He stops breathing entirely as Obi-Wan shifts to press their foreheads together, allowing him to focus entirely on the feel of the general’s breath, the sight of tears trickling again from red-rimmed eyes. “Goodbye, Cody.” he finally exhales.

And with that he turned and walked away, not looking back.

Next (Part Three)

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #commander cody #how should i format trigger warnings is there a guide somewhere #nothing in this post but at some point in this au its literally the premise #time travel au #shoutout to #@wonderingrealist #for commenting and whatnot #i've been lurking on tumblr for a while but actually logging in and engaging is new so thank you #fanfiction #star wars au #sw

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

scrubs - 2.

pairing: doctor!sebastian stan x biomedical scientist!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of death. if you are not comfortable with these warnings please dni.

< previous chapter

- Where are you going? - Miriam rose her head from the work bench as Y/N took her gloves and googles off, disposing of both in the yellow bin. - Y/N, where are you going? Don’t leave me alone with the trainees.

- I’m going to get dinner. No eating in the lab, remember?

- Urgh, couldn’t you have gone to dinner when Michael was here? You’re leaving me alone with the trainees ... and the ask so many questions. - she whispered the last part, afraid the trainees would hear her and hit her over the head with their very heavy portfolios. - I’m going next.

- Hour break, don’t you dare page me. - she pointed her finger menacingly at Miriam before clocking out and heading out for dinner. If they had told her during her sleepless nights spent revising for her least favourite modules the most exciting time of her shifts would be the bland food served by the hospital cafeteria, she would’ve just become a pharmaceutical researcher. Yet again, you need to start at the bottom if you want to get to the top and Y/N was more than ready to climb that moment.

She pressed the button for the lift, leaning against her own hand as she tried to wake herself up. Turns out studying and staying up all night applying for PhD projects and then coming to work at 7AM is not the way to go for energy. Luckily, the black tea she had drank this morning had managed to keep her awake, however the caffeine was starting to slowly leave her system and she still had a few more hours awaiting her. As she was about to fall asleep while waiting for the lift to make it to the lower floors, she heard her name being called out.

- Y/N? - she looked to her side to see Peter standing next to her. They’ve known each other since freshers and if there was someone who was always wide awake during twenty four hour shifts it was him. He worked currently in the clinical biochemistry laboratory, mostly coming over to visit Y/N whenever they were working on cardiac infection cases together. - I looked at the file you gave me. CRP is actually present but quite low, could be recovery phase from an infection. My guess with abdominal pain would be a UTI.

- You reckon it hit recovery phase by itself?

- Listen, some pharmacy assistant might’ve given him antibiotics. Who knows but I’d get a urine analysis, do some cultures and see how’s it going but from my point of view, it’s in recovery phase.

- You’re a superstar, Peter. - she hugged him just as the lift doors opened. - You’re going up?

- Yeah, it’s dinner time. I think they’re serving meatballs today. Exciting stuff. - the two stepped onto the lift. - Miriam said Dr. Stan came down today. You’re still giving him hell?

- I am not giving him hell. He’s just constantly sending samples either mislabelled or misplaced and he expects me to lecture his nursing staff about it.

- I don’t know, Y/N. Back at university you spent 2 hours arguing an answer with a lecturer, I just think you like arguing. - he chuckled as the doors opened onto the floor where the cafeteria was. - Or maybe you like arguing with Dr. Stan.

Before she could complain about the snide comment, Peter took to having a chat with a nurse he was particular sweet on leaving Y/N with her mouth open ready to argue and a finger pointed at him. She rolled her eyes, collecting herself as she released her hair from the ponytail which held it safely high up so her scalp could rest for a few hours before it had to go back up. Walking into the green lit cafeteria, the room was filled with half asleep medical staff digging through the bland food like mindless zombies. She did not blame them, she too sometimes would switch off her brain during breaks but lately all the free time she had was dedicated to applications after applications, despite the fact she kept getting rejections every single day.

The scientist grabbed a worn out plastic blue tray, getting a batch on weirdly shaped meatballs from the cafeteria lady as well as some odly too yellow noodles. Hey, it is food, her brain told her as she grabbed a diet Pepsi and a slice of apple pie which was the only eatable dessert around.

- Didn’t you owe me dinner?

- You almost made me drop my tray. - she gave the resident doctor a dirty look, gripping tighter onto the tray. - And I’ll be damned if I ever owe you dinner but I do have your blood culture results and we did sort out your weird infection case.

- It is not my infection case.

- Fine, your patient’s infection case. God heavens if any interns knew that you had an infection, that way they wouldn’t fawn over you. - she rolled her eyes at him, setting her tray in the first table she came over. He did the same, placing his tray right in front of hers before sitting in the metal chair with a cocky grin. - Go away, I’ll send over the report to your office.

- Have you not figured it out yet and trying to buy yourself more time? Or are you trying to escape the dinner date you set up with me?

- That might work on your interns but not on me, Stan. Besides, it is an infection.

- But there’s no worrying levels CRP besides, what about the abdominal pain? Surely CRP and white blood cells would be off the roof.

- Okay, since you probably missed Biochemistry in med school I will explain it to you. The CRP levels are high during initial phases and lower down during resolve. Your patient is probably on recovery phase already. Recovery means it is fixing itself. Do you need me to explain CRP to you?

- If you pulled that out with any other doctor, you would’ve gotten told off.

- Other doctors don’t ask me stupid questions. - she pointed her fork at him. - Dr. Mackie never sends the samples in the wrong vials.

- What about the blood cultures?

- Congratulations, Dr. Your patient is not septic. It’s most likely localised but I’d suggest ordering some X-rays if you wanna localise where it actually is. I wash my hands of your troubles. - she shrugged, wrapping her fork in the spaghetti laying on her plate. - Need anything else, Dr. Stan?

- I remember being promised a dinner date.

- You should get your ears checked, the only thing I promised you was data and you’re lucky I also gave you a data ana ... - the scientist was interrupted by her pager beeping loudly against her belt. She grumbled, looking down at her belt with a look that would scare anyone. - Duty calls.

- How convenient it went off now.

- Unlike you, Dr. Stan, I have a team to lead.

- Sounds complicated, Y/N. You sure you don’t need a babysitter?

She turned around as she was about to leave, raising his middle finger at him before rushing down the hall as her pager beeped uncontrollably. So much for not paging her during dinner time. Someone better be dying, she thought to herself as she slide her card into the door slot to get access. What she came in contact with was not what she was expecting from a laboratory of trained professionals. Miriam was holding one of the trainees head forward whose nose was bleeding all over her worktop bench.

- Miriam, what the fuck?

- Don’t look at me. Thomas ... - she squinted at the boy whose head she was holding forward. - Started bleeding when he smelled the knee aspiration.

- Oh no. - Y/N put some gloves on before walking over to the two. - Okay, Miriam call a code orange. I’ll take Thomas upstairs and get him sorted.

- It’s so stinky.

- I know. - Y/N handed them two cotton balls from the jar to her left. - Put them up your nose.

What would be a day in the laboratory if a newbie didn’t either faint or got nose bleeds from samples? Definitely not a day in her laboratory. She looked around the busy hospital grounds, trying to find any free, available nurses but they were all overworked. No wonder why, whenever midnight rolled around, people started coming in left and right from club brawls and the grounds were always a nightmare.

- What you got there, Miss Y/L/N? Is this how you lead your team?

- Fuck off, Stan. I do not have time to listen to your comments, I need to find a nurse.

- What happened, kid? - Sebastian looked to the 19 year old medical laboratory assistant holding cotton against his nose. - Lab that bad? Come on, I’ll fix you up.

- Thanks. - she mumbled, following the two men into one of the free areas. Thomas sat on the table while Sebastian pulled up a chair to sit in, Y/N remaining up on her feet.

- So kid, what happened? Y/N rough you up too much?

- He got a nosebleed from the smell of a knee fluid from an aspiration. - Y/N replied to him, much to Thomas delight who felt more than embarrassed about the situation he was in. - Is this what you’re doing now, Dr. Stan? Minor cases? Did the chief of medicine finally realised you’re unqualified?

- No. - he spoke as he pointed out his light at the trainees nose, to look for any specific damage. - One of my patient’s in critical care but it seems to have stabilised for now at least.

- Oh ... sorry. What happened to them?

- Sepsis. - he turned off the lights. - Listen kid, it’s nothing to bad. Just stay sat here and firmly pinch the soft part of your nose, just above your nostrils, for about 15 minutes. Don’t forget to lean forward and breathe through your mouth. Me or one of the nurses will come check on you after to see if it has improved but so far, so good.

- I’ll return to the lab. Page me when you’re ready to return, okay? - she gave the young starter a kind smile before pulling the curtains and letting him be. Unfortunately for her, Stan would not let her be. - Keep it.

- How weak are your staff? How are they gonna react to when they actually see infected body parts?

- I said keep it. - she crossed her arms, ready to leave and return to the laboratory until she remembered something. She turned around on her heel, passive aggressive smile on her lips as she leaned her head on her shoulder. - Also, Dr. Stan, the infected tissue samples you sent us had the wrong birthdate on them.

- C’mon Y/N.

- They’re on hold until you speak with the laboratory manager about them. Good luck.

He opened his mouth to fight with her but she had already gotten into the elevator. The rest of her shift was pretty uneventful with her and a few of her colleagues having to pick up the pace to get everything sorted before they left. Miriam and her fiance left first at 1AM leaving Y/N to count the minutes til 2 AM rolled around. Once the clock read 2AM, like a speeder, she was out of that laboratory and into the elevator before anyone could call her. Walking to her parking spot, the sky was dark, the lot light by harsh yellow barely brightening. As she walked over to the second handed baby blue Fiat 500, she noticed someone hunched over and sat on the top of a black new model Audi, smoke coming out from his cigarette. Normally, she would’ve just avoided it and gotten into her car to go home but the turquoise scrubs were much too familiar at this point.

- Dr. Stan? - her boots hit the gravel as she stood just a few meters away from him. - Do they not teach you in medical school that smoking increases the chance of lung cancer?

- Not now, Y/N. - no sarcastic remark? That was a new one. He threw the cigarette butt onto the ground once it was all over, feet rubbing it against the gravel. - Not now.

- I thought your shift finished at 1:30? Pulling overtime hours? Someone needed your assistance? Death time?

- My septic patient died. - she immediately wished she hadn’t said anything. Death was not something she particularly dealt with. Surely, some results were awful, specially in cases of ultra resistant bacteria showing up in the blood but that’s what they were, results. She didn’t see the patient, in all honesty all she would know the patient would be by a barcode number. - Sepsis quickly lead to organ failure. I don’t understand ... she was getting better.

- Sepsis is unpredictable. You did the best you could do.

- And you’d know? All you do is be in the laboratory and do tests. What would you know about it?

- Okay ... - she put her hands on her hips. - Are you on any antibiotics, prescription pain killers, sedative drugs, statins or any antidepressants?

- I don’t see the point.

- The bar nearby has a discount for hospital staff. It’s only a five minute walk and everyone else is so miserable, you don’t feel bad about being miserable.

- I’m not going to the bar in my scrubs, Y/N.

- If you’re okay wearing those ... - she pointed at his scrubs. - Then you are okay wearing them at the bar.

She was right, the bar did look miserable. Not in a miserable way which would require regulation to shut down the place but miserable in a way one would just be at home wallowing in their pity with a pint of beer and right now that was all he needed. He sat in a sticky red booth, in front of her with a pint of beer while she picked a cocktail from the menu.

- You don’t seem like the type of girl who’d come here.

- And I’m not but they sell really cheap burgers at lunchtime. - she put her hand under her chin. - Besides, I’ve done this before.

- When did you convince someone to come to the bar because their patient flat lined?

- You know Dr. Liam Watts?

- Surgery residency? I’ve heard about him before. - her lips tensed in a straight line as she leaned her head on her shoulder. - No. You’ve been here with Bucktooth Watts before?

- Yeah... even after he clearly needed support after he couldn’t save his first patient, he still decided to take me on a date here.

- I’m sorry, you dated Bucktooth Watts? - he chuckled, downing whatever was left of his pint, signalling the bartender to bring him another one.

- This is why we don’t hang out. He’s not bucktoothed.

- Sure, sure. I see the appeal, I mean over Christmas at least you have someone to cut the carrots.

The night went onwards with a bunch of maybe irresponsible drinking. Y/N was two mojitos in and she was already tipsy and giggling like a school girl, not really used to drinking. Sebastian was in the same state as her, trying not to laugh at everything as they stepped outside to grab a taxi. At least both of them were conscious enough to decide not to drive.

- No, you did not get locked in the vroom cupboard during your residency. - she held her belly as she laughed.

- I did and my senior doctor did not notice I was gone. I was stuck there for 5 hours.

- Oh god. - she held herself against the wall. - I always knew you were a clutz. You know, you’re the only doctor who hasn’t told off his nurses about the blood bottles.

- Can I tell you a secret? - he whispered mid laughter. - I am afraid of them.

- Oh my god. - she held her hand on his shoulder covering her mouth with the other one. - See, this is why I constantly argue with you. You’re soft, doctor.

- Arguing with you is the best part of my day. You look really hot when you’re telling me off.

- You look terrible when I tell you off. - the two of them stopped laughing, looking into each other eyes for the first time since they’d been out of the laboratory. Maybe it was the alcohol but at that moment, the best idea to the two of them was to lean towards each other, his hands grasping each side of her waist as they connected the space between them, getting together into a hot long kiss.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan doctor au #doctor!sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine

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laheyyisaac · 4 years

Text

Overdue

chapter 3 — starting over

SUMMARY: Guinevere Bailey just moved to McKinney, TX in order to figure out her life. She meets Captain Hank Syverson at the local library, and she finds out she might have bitten off more than she can chew. PAIRING: Syverson x OFC WORD COUNT: 1394 A/N: holy shit! it’s been like 5 months! first of all, i’m so terribly sorry. i’ve been wretchedly depressed, and covid and grad school have simultaneously been beating the shit out of me with a wrench. or a lead pipe. not sure yet. either way. let me know what you think. i’m a bit rusty on this story, but i still want to at least finish it. not much of an idea where it’s gonna go. any thoughts? anything you’d like to see? lmk! TAGS: @promptandpros @alyxkbrl @completelybonkersentirelymad @mylifefallingupthestairs @kissthatlifeaway @dangerouslovefanfic @michellemybelles-world @poledancingdinos @speakerforthedead0 @omgkatinka @marswritings @misslalaland-blog-blog @oddsnendsfanfics @mzchievous-blog @auds24 @maizyistrash @mary-ann84 @justaboringadult @mis-lil-red @xxxkatxo PART 1 / PART 2

Captain Henry Syverson Jr. had never felt more like shit than he did now. He stared at his phone with a scowl on his face, still covered head to toe in soot.

hope you’re okay. i’m headed home.

He’d screwed up the date he was having with a girl he thought was… well, incredibly pretty and incredibly funny. Sy closed his phone and sat it on his bed, going to his bathroom to wash off the remains of the barn that had caught fire last night. The barn had belonged to his mama and pop, and when he’d seen the smoke, he knew the animals hadn’t been moved out yet. Most of last night had been moving the animals out as fast as they could. So far, they’d only lost a hog and a calf in the fire, and a few were burned. It was...not bad, all things considered.

He still hadn’t had the nerve to text Guinevere back. He hadn’t had the nerve to go and see her either at the library. She most likely thought he’d stood her up, but the exact opposite was true. Sy stepped under the hot water, and he sighed as the drain tried to handle the near black liquid pooling down. He scrubbed his head as best he could. His hair was starting to grow back, already longer than he was used to. However, he wanted to grow it out. He missed his shaggy curls. The desert didn’t allow for that much.

He washed up as best as he could, and he realized his need for new shampoo and body wash since he smelled like a damn Bath & Body Works store. God love his mother, but she didn’t know what he liked anymore. And as lovely as lavender smelled, Sy didn’t want to smell like that. No, he much preferred his lovers smell like that.

With a sigh, he stepped from the shower and dried off, looking over himself in the mirror. A few scars littered his chest, a few bullet wounds and the like. They added to his look. Or so he hoped.

He grabbed his phone and finally made the plunge, texting Gwen with all the humility he could muster.

I can explain. She typed back for a few moments, but then the typing bubbles went away. They started up again a moment later, and that continued for a few more minutes. Sy was practically having heart palpitations.

let’s hear it.

Our barn caught on fire last night, and I was out pulling the animals out. I completely forgot to text you. I’m sorry.

She started typing again. He didn’t have to wait long for this one. oh my god oh my god i’m so sorry! i must seem like such a jerk right now! ugh. i’m so sorry a thousand times over. do you want to reschedule?

Sy smiles. She’s sweet. Sounds good. I’ll be there this time. Hell or high water. Same place, same time tonight?

perfect. see you then, sy.

She sent a little heart emoji after that, and Sy was over the moon. Hopefully, nothing would ruin tonight. Then again, knowing Sy’s luck...

He made it there on time, meaning 5 minutes before. He got their table, set everything just right, and he waited. One minute before, Gwen stepped inside looking like the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The mustard colored dress she wore perfectly complemented those eyes of hers. Took his breath away.

She looked nervous, and she was. However, he stood and waved a hand over to her. She beamed at him, trying to look like she wasn’t running towards him. It looked more like a brisk half-jog, which Sy appreciated. They were both excited. In their own ways.

He stood as she got closer, going around to pull out her chair for her. She flashed him a quick smile, and she sat. The tips of her ears were bright red. Sy had done his duty in making her blush, so he returned to his chair and sat across from her.

“I am so sor—”

They both spoke at the same time, and they both laughed in tandem. “You go first,” Gwen said, brushing her hair from her face and putting her chin in her hands.

“I am so sorry, Guinevere. I should have texted or called you sooner to let you know what had happened. I wasn’t thinkin’.”

Gwen was silent for a while, and that made Sy fidget. He wasn’t fond of silences he deemed awkward, and this was one such silence. The Captain in him wanted to continue speaking, to talk and talk and talk until she had finally gotten it into her head what he meant when he hadn’t messaged her. But she spoke before he could actually say anything else.

“Nothing to be sorry about, Sy. Not like you set fire to your own barn. Unless you did, and if you did, I’m required to report you to the authorities.” They both laugh, and Gwen reaches out to take his hand across the table.

“Sorry for the miscommunication,” she breathed, finally. “Do over?”

“Do over. Howdy.” He raises their hands to shake. “My name is Hank Syverson Jr. But you can call me Sy. I’m a Captain in the U.S. Army. Who in the world are you, young lady?”

She laughs and shakes his hand right back, thumb brushing along the rough texture of his hands. “I am Guinevere Bailey, local librarian and nuisance. But you can just call me Gwen. Or nuisance. Again, I answer to both.”

It only goes up from there. Turned out that the army captain and the librarian shared a deep love of Tolkien and fantasy series of all sorts. He had a deep affection for video games, and though their tastes differed — he preferred combat heavy games and Gwen preferred story driven games — they both agreed that video games were quite fun no matter the genre. They laughed. They shared dessert. They lost track of time. They were gently reminded of the restaurant’s hours, and Gwen started to pull out her wallet to help pay for her dinner.

“Now now, little lady, let me get this one.”

“Only if you promise I can get the next one.”

Now, Hank was a chivalrous man, an old fashioned man. But he also never said no to a free meal, and in a refreshing turn for Guinevere, he said — “Deal.”

She smiled. “I really like you Hank Syverson Jr. I really, really like you.”

“I like you too Guinevere Bailey. Now c’mon. We’re wearin’ out our welcome.”

They left the restaurant, and the stars twinkled above them, cradling a bright full moon. Sy took a chance and linked their arms together, much to Gwen’s delight. She took his arm and leaned into him. They walked around historic downtown for a bit, continuing to chat and observing the old, beautiful buildings. By the time they’d made it back to their cars, the time was nearly midnight. They stood outside Gwen’s car, and he looked down at her, tall and towering.

“I had a nice night tonight, Gwen.”

“Me too, Sy. We should do it again sometime soon.”

“We should, and I should start goin’ to the library more often. I think I still got some books that are overdue from the fifth grade.”

“You’re going to get in trouble, Sy.”

“As long as I’m just in trouble with you. Night, Gwen.” Then, “can I kiss you?”

The question surprises her. Not many ask her. So she simply nods before letting out a resounding “yes. I’d like that.”

He leans down slowly, and Gwen’s lips part at the sight. He descends and places the softest kiss right there on her cheek, his beard tickling her jaw. She laughs at his tease, and he pulls back with a wink.

“Didn’t think you meant it like that, Syverson.”

“Hey, I never specified where. Buy me dinner first, and we’ll see where it goes.”

They both laugh again, and they linger. Neither wants to go home. Neither wants to stay. It’s kind of chilly, but neither will say anything if they can help it. It’s Gwen who breaks the silence, though.

“One more for the road? The other cheek’s getting jealous.”

“Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.”

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson x ofc #syverson fic #syverson fanfiction #syverson #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #my writing.#mine.#ahhh here we go

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slippinmickeys · 4 years

Text

The Post

From a Tumblr anonymous prompt: “ Prompt for AU where Mulder is an investigative reporter and Scully is a Pathologist. They bicker and work together to get to the bottom of mysterious deaths and fall in love along the way. Scully is engaged to Ethan, Mulder's competition, but she is not happy or aware that he is cheating on her. Bonus points for angst, fluff, and smut.“

“You can’t tell anyone I gave this to you,” she said, and he had a sudden almost-psychic sexual flash of his cock splitting the soft autumn fur at her center. Of her head thrown back, her sharp little incisors gnashing at the air.

He shook his head to clear it of the indecorus fantasy.

“The Post protects its sources, Dr. Scully,” he said, and took the envelope from her, his fingers brushing the skin of her hand as he did so. He was certain he saw the soft hairs of her wrist turn to goose flesh.

She turned her head away, offering him her profile, a soft rise of color high on her cheekbone.

“Ethan Minette is my fiancé, Mr. Mulder,” she said quietly, not meeting his eye.

He nearly staggered back, the past six weeks running like a movie montage on hyper speed through his mind. Minette—on the City Desk at the Times—handing cash under the table to a beat cop on K Street; the Trojan horse on Mulder’s computer, his own scoop running in the Times an hour before the Post went to press; Minette’s hand sliding down the hip of a White House aide before disappearing with her into the coat check room at The Palm.

“I assure you,” he said, scuffing the leather bottom of his shoe on the cold floor of the morgue, “not a whiff. No one will be able to trace this information back to you.”

“Thank you,” she smiled shyly, ducking her head, a lock of copper hair pulling loose from her ponytail to whisp along the delicate line of her jaw. He had to resist the urge to finger it softly back behind the shell of her ear.

Instead he raised the envelope to his temple in a salute, nodded at her and moved toward the door of the autopsy room. He turned back to her when he was within its frame, and she looked up to meet his eye, the glacial blue of her own piercing something deep inside of him.

“It was nice to officially meet you,” he said, and she smiled again.

“Oh, nothing about this was official,” she said, and he huffed a laugh and stepped away, the metal door sucking shut behind him.

He was waiting outside the morgue door when she walked out, paying no attention to her surroundings, her head making a mental list of groceries she needed to pick up on the way home. She was so startled that she had her fist around her pepper spray before she recognized him, holding up a staying hand under the orange soda glow of the street lights, his eyes all apology.

The morgue door had only clicked shut when she heaved a relieved sigh.

"Oh," she said, "it's you." The night was cold and dark around them. It was February; the ugliest time of year in DC.

He smiled at her in the half light and it took her a moment to notice that he was holding out a newspaper toward her in his other hand, the thick stack flopping down as he lifted his arm so that she could read the headline: EVIDENCE SHOWS MASSIVE COVERUP, it read, and she snatched it out of his grip.

"You went to print?!" she asked excitedly. It had been weeks since she’d tipped him off. He nodded.

"Hot off the presses," he said.

She skimmed the article under his byline, reading as fast as she could.

"God, I hope this takes them down," she muttered, still reading, "I hate dirty cops." Her pulse was thrumming.

"It will," he said with confidence, and then shifted a bit on his feet. "Though... it may take your fiancé down with them."

She steeled herself. She'd suspected this was coming since before she'd called Fox Mulder's extension at the Post. So it was true, then. Ethan was in on it. All for a fucking story.

"So be it," she said, and his eyes softened.

"You okay?" he asked. His breath wafted above their heads in a white vapor and something about the softness of his eyes and the wet glint of his generous lower lip made her forget her nerves.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Can I... buy you a drink to celebrate?"

He appeared as surprised as she was by her invitation.

"I know a great place," he said, delighted.

They burst through his door connected at the lips, her hands running over his shoulders to cleave off his suit coat and he stumbled backwards over it as it hit the floor. His blood was singing on a high of lust and gin and the exquisite poetry of her; the Roman cut of her nose, the amber glint of her hair, the way her teeth caught on her s’s.

The slam of the door behind them brought her up short. She pulled back as if surprised to find herself in his apartment, though she'd been the one who'd leaned into his ear at the bar and hissed "take me back to your place," her breath smelling of whiskey and lipstick. She'd been all hands and lips and teeth in the cab.

"You okay?" he asked for the second time that night, out of breath, practically panting, the front of his pants tight.

"I'm--" she started, "I never do this. I'm sorry, I -- I never do this."

"Hey," he said gently, "we don't have to -- I don't expect -- do you want to sit down?"

She nodded, looking shocky, and he led her over to his couch and then slipped into his kitchen, checking every cup and mug in his sparse cabinets until he found one that looked perfectly clean. He pressed the glass into her hands, the ice clicking gently into the sides. He sat on the floor next to the couch to give her space, crossed his legs and tried not to think of his aching cock.

"Ethan is --" she began, "we've been together since high school." She was talking to her lap, half the water chugged before he even sat down. Her blouse was still untucked from when he’d pulled it out of her pants to run a hand over her silk-clad breast in the cab and she was fingering the gold engagement ring on her left hand-- it was an antique-looking thing, something he couldn't see her liking, though he admittedly barely knew her at all.

He nodded at her, wanting to reach a hand out, but opting to rest his arm along the edge of the sofa instead.

"He's cheating on me," she said, a statement. Mulder knew it to be true, but it seemed too self-serving to say anything confirming it, and so he stayed mum. “But we’ve been together so long, and I didn’t want to believe it. And now that I know he’s in on this…” He reached out and touched her knee lightly, and her eyes sharpened. “Tell me something about yourself,” she went on, her voice dropping an octave, “something that no one else knows.”

And so he told her about his sister. About his years-long search for the truth. They talked and talked as she slowly melted into the sofa, her legs stretched out and almost touching him, her head propped up on her elbow.

Finally, she blinked slowly down at him.

“I still feel kind of drunk,” she said, and then yawned.

“Take my bed,” he said, rising to quickly change the sheets. “The bathroom is just over there,” he nodded toward a door. “There’s a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.” He disappeared into the bedroom before she could decline.

She walked through his bedroom doorway on silent feet just as he was shoving the last pillow into a fresh pillowcase. He hugged it to his chest and made his way to the door, smiling at her shyly as he passed. She grabbed his arm gently and he paused, looked down into her sharp starlet eyes. She smelled of toothpaste and faded perfume. Her face had been scrubbed clean.

“Thank you, Mulder,” she said, and let go, her touch practically burning his skin.

She called him three weeks later at work, asked him to meet her for lunch. They sat in the cavernous Les Halles in the District, at a middle table where Mulder kept getting bumped by people making their way to the restroom. The air was filled with the clatter of silverware on plates, a constant murmur of business talk, the expediter calling orders in the kitchen. She wanted to apologize to him.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, before the words were even halfway out of her mouth. “If anyone should apologize, it should be me.”

He reached out a hand and brushed his fingers lightly over the back of her left hand. He noticed her ring finger was bare and stopped short.

“I was in a relationship and — even though I knew it was over, I should have never -- I stuck my tongue down your throat before you finished your second drink,” she said, blushing, but with a smile.

“Say what you will about the former,” he said, reaching for his sweating water glass, “but don’t you dare apologize for the latter.”

She leaned back in her chair and signaled for the waiter. As the man walked away with their orders, Scully leaned forward, her elbows on the table, fingers laced over her plate.

“Detective Cho came to our apartment as Ethan was packing up his things last week,” she said, attempting to keep a cheeky smile from her lips. Mulder’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, though he wasn’t sure which part of her statement surprised him most. “The DA was with her,” she went on, finally cracking a grin.

“You think Ethan will cop a plea?” Mulder asked excitedly, half his brain already on the phone to Skinner, his editor, the other half already writing the story.

“Take out your notebook, and I’ll tell you everything,” she said.

Mulder was on the steps of the courthouse eating a street hot dog when she came clicking down them in her best pumps. She’d been called as a witness in many cases in her life, but never before one in which one of the accused was somebody she had once loved.

She still felt shaky and overdrawn, but just the sight of his sable hair, his strong profile against the sidewalk, settled her nerves.

They hadn’t seen each other in months, but had taken to talking on the phone in the late evening, initially about the story and the case, eventually dropping any pretense and talking just to hear each other’s voice. It had gotten to the point where if she didn’t hear his low timbre each night before bed, she’d have trouble sleeping.

He turned when he sensed her and stood when he saw her, his face blossoming into a pleased smile.

She stopped two steps above him, which made them the same height. His eyes looked mossy in the sun, his lashes long sweeps along his skin.

“The courtroom smells like a Pulitzer,” she said, “I’m surprised you’re not in there.”

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his overcoat and shrugged.

“And miss a day like this?” he said, the sun glinting off his hair as off a robin’s wing.

“You know, I really thought a sharp wit like you would come in with a line like ‘the real prize is out here,’ but I guess I lobbed the softball a little low,” she teased.

He smiled, shrugged again.

“What can I say?” he said, “I like the high ones.”

He had a smudge of mustard on the edge of his mouth, and she reached out and wiped it slowly off of him with her thumb, the scrape of his five o’clock shadow rasping.

She had a sudden almost-psychic sexual flash of his lush mouth opening wetly over the rise of her mons, of his long, warm hands running slowly up the back of her thigh, could practically feel his low, satisfied moan flushing up her skin.

She blinked away the fantasy but held it in her mind, smiled and reached for his arm, coming down the steps until she was even with him and he turned to walk with her.

“So it’s done then,” he said, finally pulling his hands from the depths of his coat pockets and reaching out until his hand was resting on the small of her back. “Can I buy you a drink to celebrate?”

She smiled into the sunshine and leaned into his touch.

#the x-files #fanfic #msr #ficlet #prompt #AU #my fic

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

EUPHORIA - Chapter 19

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Flangst

WC: 2653

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘authority kink’ square for @spnkinkbingo. Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

This series is more than two weeks ahead on patreon!

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The next morning Y/N wakes up sore all over. It’s her own fault really. Dean had made it clear that he wasn’t going to fuck her but she had to go and beg him for it. She just can’t help it. He’s so good to her, respects her and always puts her first.

Needy little thing , he once said.

He’s not wrong. And it’s all entirely his fault. He’s the one who makes her all tingly inside. It’s not only her pussy that tingles either, it’s her heart too.

Falling for him seems like the easiest thing to do and she doesn’t know if she can catch herself on time. She doesn’t want to get hurt, she really doesn’t.

Y/N hopes that she can make time to see him today but there’s still tons of work to catch up on because she kind of set them aside, probably thinking that it’s going to dematerialize into thin air, but it seems like it fucking didn’t. Plus she’s going to have to go to Washington tomorrow either. That means two nights without seeing him.

But this morning, she notices a text from him on her phone, and she can’t stop grinning like a complete idiot.

D: I hope you’ll have a great start of the day, baby. Can you make room for me today?

D: Please?

It was sent close to 4am. He probably just got back from work. She hopes that he only worked last night. This whole concept of being with someone who owns a sex club is still hard to wrap her mind around. He can basically go down and have sex whenever he likes. How can he resist? She doesn’t get it? Would she be able to? Why does he want her when he can have anyone there?

But again, she should trust him, shouldn’t she? It’s just… she’s been burned before. Trust is still a thing she has to learn.

From the way Cas and the other employees are talking, it doesn’t seem like Dean’s ever engaged in anything there and he’s been telling her that too. And she believes him, she does. There’s just something nagging at the back of her mind, is all.

It’s almost 3pm when she types out emails to her colleagues about their inputs for the workshop. As she’s the only one there from her team, she needs some pointers on what to focus on so she can report back to them about particular hot topics.

She thinks she can go and see Dean before she has to be back at 10pm and work until the print deadline.

Gathering her phone and cash, Y/N makes her way out, informing Rufus that she’ll be in later and takes a cab to the club.

On the way there, she thinks that maybe she should have called him and said that she’s on her way, but abandons that thought quite quickly because somehow, she wants to surprise him.

When she arrives at the club some fifteen minutes later, she hears loud music from the inside, which is highly unusual. She doesn’t think that she has heard any music during the day, like ever. Not until shortly before opening time at least.

Curiously, she walks closer. There’s only one bouncer standing outside and he notices her, opens up the door for her with a courtesy nod. The bass of the music vibrates on the ground with every step she takes. The music is not really loud like it is during opening, but it’s loud enough to feel it beneath her skin.

Y/N parts the heavy curtain at the entrance, and what she sees makes her stop in her tracks. The club is basically full with strippers. There were at least four dancing on stage. About another dozen lounged around on the chairs and booth around the stage, watching the performances. Right in the middle, sitting at a table is Dean, an empty chair next to him, and there’s one stripper who she thinks is dancing exceptionally close to him while he’s sitting back, and watches the show before him. His lips curve up into that charming cocky grin he used to have in school, the crinkles around his eyes deepening and she feels something stinging at her heart.

She curses herself for not letting him know that she’s on the way. And why is she even here again? God, what she sees makes her sick to her stomach. That’s exactly a thing she doesn’t necessarily need to see, to be honest.

Fight or flight?

Oh, she wants to leave, alright? But again, if she leaves, would she be able to act like she saw fucking nothing? Would she be able to act like it doesn’t fucking matter? She’ll be upset and she’d have to explain to him why she’s upset and since she’s already here, maybe she should face it like a fucking adult. The thing with them will probably end anyway, won’t it? Why not now before she falls any harder. Right now she can still get out with minimal damage to her heart.

Her way of thinking is totally stupid, she knows. She just can’t really help the doubts in her head.

She takes a couple of breaths, wills her heart to just fucking stop beating so hard, and then she summons all her courage to walk forward to Dean.

Approaching slowly and carefully, Y/N comes to stand next to him and Dean notices her, turns his head to look up and he fucking smiles when she sees her, like the things happening here is no fucking big deal.

Maybe it isn’t to him , she reminds herself. Maybe she’s the one who overreacts.

“Hey,” Dean grins, and she’s standing close enough for him to reach out his hand for her. It catches her wrist and he pulls her down with a force that sees her landing on his lap. He quickly wraps his arms around her, kisses her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.

The stripper quickly retreats. Good.

She’s irritated to say the least and pushes herself away and off his lap, frowning at him when she looks down, and then her mouth opens to speak, “Am I interrupting?”

Dean sees her distress, jumps up from his chair and takes her hand, pulls her to the back and away from the crowd, where there were more booths and love-seats that were unoccupied. She thinks it’s because he doesn’t want her causing a scene right in front of everyone, and scare away his fucking strippers, when that’s all she actually wants to do.

His grip is tight around her arm and she shakes it off, snorting loudly at the absurdity of it all.

“You’re upset,” He breathes, threads his hand through his hair before he rubs at his scruff.

From her standing point she can still see the half naked figures dancing on stage, and can see them mingling in the first seating row. Y/N’s sure that they can see them too, sees a couple of the girls craning her neck to see what’s going on. Dean’s hand reaches out, wanting to touch her again but he stops short, knowing that she’ll shrug him off.

“Wow,” She snorts, “Tell me why I shouldn’t be?”

Dean purses his lips into a thin line, and she can see that he’s smirking. Why is he fucking smirking? He reaches out a hand, lays it on her shoulder and she pats it away. Dean lets out a frustrated sound before he rubs a hand over his face again.

“Jesus, Y/N! It’s not what it fucking looks like!”

He’s a little louder. It’s making her flinch and there are eyes looking back at them.

“Oh, it fucking looks like your club is full of fucking strippers and you’re about to get a fucking lap dance,” Y/N cranes her neck to look over his shoulder dramatically. Just for good fucking measure, “Ah, look, they’re still there! So yeah, I think it is exactly what it fucking looks like!”

God, she doesn’t even know why she’s so upset. She doesn’t want to be but she can’t help it. He calls her his girl and dammit, he is hers too, isn’t he?

“Fuck’s sake,” Dean growls, “If you would just fucking listen to me for a sec—”

“—Go on, humor me!” She snaps and he groans at the interruption, lets his head drop down to breath for a moment. Probably trying to control himself because she knows herself that she’s being a fucking pain in the ass right now.

The way he just stares at her with irritation on his face almost makes her pity him. Almost. There’s something else she sees in his eyes as well. Even though the club is not well lit, there's something else in his expression. Something… fond? Like he’s irritated about her outburst but somehow he’s also very delighted about it. And that is fucking irritating.

Dean’s hand reaches out for her again and grabs her by the back of her neck, his thumb massaging circles on her skin before he lowers his face to her level, “Fucking listen to me, okay?”

Y/N crosses her arms over her chest, raises one eyebrow in challenge and Dean sighs. His grip is tighter where her shoulder meets her neck, fingertips digging into her skin.

“We’re having a Striptease Night in the VIP room, alright? It’s a fucking casting!”

“Yeah, right,” She scoffs, blows air out of her mouth, sending the strands of hair in her face flying up.

He’s smirking. The hell is he smirking for?

Dean licks his lips before he goes on, “Cas just went to the bathroom,” He turns his head to look back at the space where he was sitting, and she takes a look too, sees Cas sitting back there with a clipboard in hand, “And now he’s back and the casting can go on.”

Y/N could swear that Cas wasn’t there just a moment ago and now she feels kind of stupid because she thinks that Dean’s telling the truth. But still, it’s exactly what she was thinking earlier. He’s the fucking owner of a fucking sex club and she has issues with her insecurities and that’s not a fucking good mix!

“Baby, you have nothing to be worried about,” His voice is softer and Dean moves his face closer, kisses the top of her head to test the water. When he sees that she’s not pushing him away, he weaves an arm around her waist, pulls her closer and kisses her lips. However, he probably feels that she’s still upset and won’t kiss him back, so he parts again to thumb at them, “Y/N, I’m not a fucking idiot. All I want is you, okay? How do I get you to understand?”

“I don’t know,” She mumbles, doesn’t really look at him but instead, she stares down, “I just don’t get it. Why me? Look at what you’re missing out on!” Y/N gestures widely with both her hands.

He’s grinning before he kisses her again and this time, she can’t help but give in, kisses him rough and needy, her body melts to his and Dean lowers his body, picks her up and carries her to the next love-seat in the back, making her straddle him. The music’s still going on behind them and she hears girls laughing and talking together.

Dean parts after a while, pecks her lips, leaves his forehead on hers, “Jesus Christ, Y/N, you just don’t get that you were the first one I ever really wanted, do you? Now that I’ve found you, I would never put myself in the position to lose you.” He takes her wrist, guides it down between them to palm over his cock, “You feel that? I only want you for crying out loud!”

He’s hard. Like, really hard. Not just semi hard, it’s the real deal. He wasn’t hard before, not even semi, when he pulled her into his lap moments ago.

“And all just from fucking kissing you,” He pecks her lips again but holds her hand there where she rubs over his clothed cock, groaning a little at the friction her hand provides, “You have no fucking idea how much you affect me,”

She swallows hard, “You’re doing the same to me,” Her lips curve up into a smile, “I want you to fuck me now.”

Dean’s grins widens, “Jesus, baby,”

It turns him on hearing these dirty words from her lips, he can’t lie about that.

He kisses her once more, leaves his lips there, teeth tugging at her bottom lip, bites so hard it makes her squeal into his mouth and then he sucks at it, eases the pain.

He parts with a question, “How long do we have?”

“I have to be back by ten.”

“Good,” He nods, while he takes out his phone and texts Cas, although the man is just a couple of feet away, but Dean thinks it seems too much to ask of him to walk over there with a fucking boner in his pants.

As soon as he places the phone back in his dress pants, she takes his hand, “Come on,” She says in an authoritarian voice Dean’s never heard from her, and it makes him all kinds of fluttery inside.

She walks away, but turns around to look back at him when she sees that Dean’s not moving, still sitting there in the seat because he’s admiring her. She rolls her eyes and sighs, lifts her arms away from her body, “Follow me, Dean!”

She’s still upset, Dean can tell, because she storms off, walks swiftly and loudly up the stairs, and Dean grins like an idiot before he dashes after her.

By now, Y/N knows her way around his club, and Dean is strangely okay with that. It’s okay that his employees know that she belongs to him. They don’t even ask any questions, only opening the door for her and he almost has to run to keep up.

It’s a whole new side of her that he sees. The way she stomps along the floor of the VIP room, the way she doesn’t even look back to see if he follows because she knows that he does. How could he not? Seeing her all worked up and being all possessive and authoritarian over him, turns Dean on. Definitely can’t lie about that. He’s getting just a little harder thinking about what she might do to him.

He would let her. Of course he would.

And that is a first for him. Usually he’s the one in control, not only with her but it has always been like that. He absolutely hated the fact that someone else could have control over his life, sexually or non-sexually. But with her, Dean thinks that he feels comfortable enough to let her steer the wheel. He’d like to sit shotgun for some time, let her take over. There’s some comfort in knowing that he’s being taken care of as much as he takes care of others.

Dean watches her pausing mid-stomp, she’s about thirty feet ahead when she turns around and braces her fists on her hips, “Are you coming?”

Jesus, his dick twitches at the sight and Dean’s almost guilty for finding her distress highly arousing.

Apparently, he finds out kinks about him he never knew he had. Authority kink is one of them, and no, he’s not ashamed about that.

He clears his throat, smirks cockily, “Well, I hope I will,” Dean chuckles satisfactory at his own joke. It was a great one, alright. He walks a little faster, catching up but before he could reach her, she rolls her eyes, turns around and continues to walk on.

Fucking adorable, is what she is.

Chapter 20

#euphoria #spnkinkbingo #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester series #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fic #nathalie writes

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t-o-m-hollands · 4 years

Photo

Warning: Ever so slightly smutty at two parts, but only slightly. However if that’s not you thing at all or if you are too young then do not read.

Summary: You and Timmy were once an item. After a painful breakup you meet each other again at an award show.

Here’s how it goes. For being an actress you’re awfully shy. While in front of the cameras when you’re immersed in a role you can turn it all off, all of your doubts and insecurities dissipates, and you can turn all your focus on the performance at hand and forget about all the people in the studio or the camera catching your every expression.

Award ceremonies however are a special form of hell. The probing questions from the journalists, the flashing lights of the cameras, the noise of reporters all screaming at you to look their way. The constant watching and judging eyes, ready to tear you apart piece by piece on the internet.

It is not for you. Despite wearing a couture dress from a fashionable designer, you do not feel like you belong in this room, with these people, who all seem to know exactly what do to and say, who seem like they were born to be here. You feel like a fraud.

The afterparty is in full swing when you arrive at the venue. Loud music echoing across the room from the DJ booth, people clinking their glasses while wearing the finest clothes money can buy, and a never-ending stream of cold champagne being served by waiters in black. A few guests are dancing, some on the floor, some on tables.

You’re hiding. Out on the balcony, out of sight. If only just for a moment. Giving in to a temptation you’ve struggled to resist all night you try to lit a cigarette, but the damn lighter just flickers.

“Need a light?” he asks and the effect that voice has on you seem ridiculously disproportionate. You can however not deny that it’s happening to you. Your knees feels unsteady and your hands are shaking and surely the world is spinning too fast around you and surely you have a fever, and you want to blame it on the champagne, you want to blame it on the cold, you want to blame it on the hunger. But it’s him. It has always been him. Whatever it is about him, whatever magic quality that he possesses, that only he possesses, is entirely his own. And no champagne in the world has ever made you feel as light headed as he has. As he still does.

As he walks up to you the world seems to be spinning and you try not to breath. The scent of him is surrounding you and you don’t want to breath him in. Because he’s not here to stay and he’s not yours to keep and soon he will leave, and you can already feel the wound in your heart pulling at its seams.

He leans closer, over you, and he holds up a lighter and so you lean closer still with your cigarette. He then lights one for himself and for a while all you do is stand there, your back pressed against the wall and his body still leaning slightly over yours. You can hear the voices and the music from inside, the chaotic roars of celebration and delight. The pounding music. Down on the street the soft noise of never-ending traffic as cars drive by. And yet, you swear you can hear both of your hearts beat, even thought that must be impossible.

It’s cold up on the rooftop but you can feel the heat of his body, so close to yours. Then he bows his head, almost as if in defeat, and he rests his forehead against yours and he takes a shaky breath.

“Sorry” he mumbles against your forehead, but what he wants to say is – I’m sorry for the times I left without saying goodbye. I’m sorry I never stayed long enough to talk things out. I’m sorry I never told you how I felt, the way I still feel when you’re around. I’m sorry I was a coward when we met, I’m sorry I stayed when I thought it wouldn’t last. I’m sorry I left. God I’m so sorry I left. I’m sorry for the tear in your heart, but if you want to compare war wounds mine is yet to stop bleeding.

He wants to say – I kept having this reoccurring dream where I was lost at sea, unable to set ashore and unable to sail away and all I could see was the light of the lighthouse and it blinded me. I couldn’t turn away from it. The rest of the world didn’t exist anymore and everything else paled against the blinding light. There was no sun, no moon, no stars. I couldn’t feel the rain or the cold or hear the screams of the sea. But the point of a lighthouse is to warn sailors of dangerous and traitorous paths ahead. In the end, there was nothing but the blinding light and I had to get closer still, I just had to, no matter the cost. And so, I crash against the rocks and every night I drown, mon ange, every night I drown.

He wants to say – you are a force of nature and the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. the first time I saw you I didn’t know what to do with myself. It seemed impossible, you seemed impossible, like taken out of dreams I hadn’t realized I was having. And when you walked up to me I wanted to sound clever, make you laugh, impress you but I didn’t know, I still don’t know, what to do with myself when you’re around. So, I offered my hand for you to shake. And you took it in yours and you smiled up at me and I swear you’ve had my heart ever since. Like I’d handed it over to you in that handshake.

He wants to say – and when you told me you loved me back I got scared, because you were beautiful and clever and funny and bright as the sun and I was half a world away for weeks and months on end and I didn’t understand how that could be enough for you. How you could settle for that. How could I let you? And I thought that surely you would meet someone else, someone better and they’d sweep you off your feet and that there would be nothing for me to do but to watch it happen and wish you the best. So, I thought of it as ripping of a band-aid and I left. Before you could leave me and I’m sorry. I was young and dumb and in love and didn’t know what to do with myself and I’m sorry.

“Sorry for all of it” he adds, even though is seems heartbreakingly inadequate even to his own ears.

You look up at him, really taking in the sight of him for the first time that evening. Hair’s a mess, like he’s dragged his hand through it a million times tonight. Dark circles under his eyes so prominent you feel worried for him and his lips pressed tightly shut together, as if he’s trying to keep a stream of words back from entering the world.

“Let’s leave” your voice a soft whisper.

He blinks, “wha- really?”, and you almost want to laugh at his puzzled expression.

“I haven’t eaten all day in order to fit into this dress, I’m starving. Let’s go someplace where I can eat my body weight in fries, and then we’ll talk. Alright?”

“Alright” he repeats, eyes full of stars as he looks down at you. And then, as if he’s unable to stop himself, he plants the gentles of kisses on your forehead. You smile up at him before reaching out your hand for him to take, and he does. It feels right.

In silence you walk out of the hotel. In silence you stroll the streets before walking into a 24/7 open diner. It is nearly empty, but the few guests and the waitress inside all notice you when you walk in. The difference between the posh party you’ve just left and this rather dirty old diner makes you smile. You don’t know if they recognise either you or Timmy but you guess that your fine clothes give you away. Timmy leads you to the booth at the far back, away from the windows and from the staring eyes of the other diners. He then waits for you to sit down before sliding in beside you. It feels familiar. In the back of your mind there’s a nagging thought that this isn’t how it should be. Seeing each other again after nearly a year apart should surely be painful, be awkward, be difficult. This is anything but. This is the familiarity of coming home and sleeping in your own bed after having been gone for too long. This is re-watching your favourite movie from childhood. This is the smell of birthday parties as a child, cupcakes with vanilla frosting and strawberries and coffee in the air. This is a shower after a long day. Your favourite meal. A photo album from when you were young. Your most beloved song. It is bliss.

On the stereo you can hear “I want hold your hand” by The Beatles over the faint sound of chatter. The whole place smells of fried food, yet his scent is so clear to you and you want to just cuddle up beside him, breath in the familiarity of him. So, you move closer and he wraps an arm around you, a big smile on his face. He kisses your forehead again and you smile.

“And what are you ordering?” A waitress asks you both, tapping a notepad with her pen.

“Do you have champagne?” you ask, only half joking. You might not have felt like celebrating all evening, but you do now.

“No” is her answered, not amused.

“Oh, well, fries? And a milkshake, strawberry, please” You smile at her, but she doesn’t melt, just writes down your order.

“And you?” She turns to Timmy.

“Oh, I’ll have fries too, and a coke, thank you”. He smiles too but the waitress still refuses to be charmed. She does however jot down his order too before dutifully rushing off to the kitchen.

Timmy looks down at you, and the smile he gives you, you swear it is radiant. You swear you see stars in his eyes. You swear he looks at you so fondly you’re more than half in love with him again. But then you think, did you ever stop. Because sure, without him you were still breathing, you still functioned as you should. You still walked your dog, went to work, cooked dinner, showered. You still went out with friends. Still laughed. You went on the business of living. All the while you missing him. It was with you like a constant ache between your ribs. Sure, the first week after he left had been almost insufferable, like something vital had, without grace or ceremony, been ripped out of your body. But you had picked up the pieces of your life and you had dusted yourself off and you had gotten on with it. And here he was, smiling down at you with stars in his eyes. You don’t feel angry, but you wonder if maybe you should. For although he felt as familiar as a cuddly toy from childhood you needed answers.

“Why did you leave?”

His smile fades, he takes a shaky breath and leans his forehead against yours, as if to collect himself. Then, with an apparent effort he pulls himself together and sits up straight again, one arm still draped around you.

“I just” a long paus. “I just thought you deserved better, I suppose”. You sit quietly and think this over. “Was that not up for me to decide?” you ask, gently. He lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah” he agrees sounding bitter, and then, sounding almost embarrassed, “I got scared”. The way he says it sounds like a confession, and a fleeting though strikes you. He wants you to repent him for his sins. “What scared you?” Your voice is gentle and soft as a whisper. While you wait for his answer you find yourself absentmindedly painting little patterns over his hand. It seems to settle him.

“The intensity of it all, I guess” and again, he sounds embarrassed, almost shy, as he confesses this to you. He nuzzles up closer to you, seeking comfort. Leaning his head against yours as you both observe your intertwined hands. “It never happened to me, not like that” and then adding, sensing your confusion “love, I mean. It never happened to me in that way, like I’d been struck by lightning or something. When it happened before, if that even was love, it grew slowly and then slowly faded. But this felt like, like” he seems at a loss for words for a second “like being thrown out of my orbit and it scared me. Being with you scared me, like I’d do fucking anything for you, be anyone for you. It just got really intense, really quick.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Before the silence can drag out too long the waitress returns with your food which she places it in front of you before scurrying off. You untangle your hand from his grasp to grab a hold of your milkshake.

“Timmy” you start but he interrupts you, “no mon ange, please, let me explain properly first”. You can tell that the endearment slipped out without him having meant to use it, for it startles you both, and you can feel the wound in your heart pulling at its seams again. You then know that without realizing it a big part of you had just assumed that he was back in your life again, and back to stay. And hearing him call you his angel again in that familiar way, as if he had never gone made you question if he really was yours to keep. He realizes that he has made you tense up and he hurriedly tries to fix it, “shit, I’m sorry babe” and there’s the other one.

And a river of memories flows over you.

A white room, with white curtains flowing in the wind as sunshine streams through them. Laying on white sheets on the hotel bed as he moves above you. You are laughing and moaning and touching. Then, a shaky whisper that might as well have been a praying in your ear as he comes, dragged out in all its glory, “babe”.

In a cinema at a movie premiere and on the screen your boyfriend having sex with another woman. You know it’s all pretend but it doesn’t stop the sinking feeling in your gut as you watch them. Then, his warm hand grasping yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “it’s all pretend, mon ange, I love you”.

Fighting over a game of scrabble in your apartment “Babe, I really can’t help it if ‘squeeze’ is spelled with a Z and not an S!” “Alright, then you shouldn’t be allowed to spell ‘quickly’ with a CK!” Silence. Then “but that’s the correct spelling, that’s what it should be spelled like!”

“Fuck babe, you look amazing” his admiring eyes from across the room, and then his hands in your hair as he kisses you and you laughing into that kiss. “No, where going to be late!” “Fuck them”. Laughter again and then “No, fuck me”.

A telephone call in the middle of the night. Unexpected. You’re out on the balcony, hoping the cold air will make you feel less numb. “I’m sorry, mon ange, I just can’t do it anymore”.

And then you’re back to reality again. “Babe, are you all right?” Timmy’s worried voice in your ear as he leans over you, trying to pull you back from the memories. “Look at me, please look at me, babe”. You do. He has tears in his eyes, you can tell he’s not far from shedding them. “Let me explain, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, all I meant was that, that” and he looks so frustrated at not being able to put words on his own feelings. “All I mean is that, is that it felt like, that I felt like I loved you so much that I” he stops again and you wish you could help him formulate whatever it is he’s struggling with. “It felt so intense and it scared me. I wasn’t ready for it to happen to me like that, love I mean. I wasn’t ready for you. It scared me. I was a coward and I’m sorry”.

You kiss him. Not passionately or fervently but gently and deliberately.

“Alright” you say before finally taking a sip of your now somewhat melted strawberry milkshake. It tastes heavenly, although kissing Timmy might just taste better. You look up at him, and he seems almost frozen in place, staring back at you with stars in his eyes again. “Wanna taste?” you ask, referring to the milkshake in your hand. He nods but doesn’t place his lips around the straw, instead he places them on your lips again. It’s still slow and gentle, but this time there’s a fever behind it. Like he wants to make up for all the time spent apart.

Eventually you move away, smiling. He’s smiling too. You both tuck into your food and suddenly you feel starving. He’s still got one arm draped around you and he’s playing with your hair. And your chatting with one another. About all the small but important things that has happened in the others absence. You talk movies and music and travel too.

Before you know its early morning.

And here is how it goes. You leave the diner, still arm in arm, and make your way out into the morning. The glitter on your couture dress sheen in the sun and your limbs feel heavy with sleep deprivation. He manages to get you both a taxi and you make your way across New York City. His hand is warm in yours. You nearly fall asleep against his shoulder. The sky is a clear blue outside and the sun is beaming, and the taxi driver is humming along to the radio. It is Sunday and outside people are eating breakfast alfresco, enjoying time with their loved ones. The whole world seems to be smiling with you today.

And then you are at his apartment. He helps you out of your dress and you help him with the many buttons in his dress shirt. Body’s exhausted you both lay down in his bed, naked naked as the day you were born.

And this is how it goes. He holds you. He says softly, voice hardly more than a whisper “I won’t be a coward this time, promise. Promise I won’t leave again. Not unless you ask me to”. You turn around and you kiss him. And you trust him. And you fall asleep holding each other.

***

This is a repost from my previous blog.

#timothee chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee x you #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothée x reader #timothée x you #timothée chalamet

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amlovelies · 4 years

Text

Addie

part 2: cruelty

pairing: Vexx/f!traveler (Adonia) warnings: some mild suggestive language words: 1.6k read on ao3 part 1

Vexx almost makes it back to the barracks. Crescents mark where his nails have dug into his palm, and he is grateful for the late hour as he slides down the wall of the hallway and sinks to the floor. He can still smell her perfume. He has no nose for fragrance but he knows hers well. At first encounter all softness and flowers, like a spring day walking in the gardens, but it’s not the flowers that linger on his skin. Something deeper, something warm and enticing, teases at his senses and sets his pulse racing. He half expects to find her watching him from the end of the hall, but she’s not there. She is back in her room where he left her.

If he returned and knocked on the door would she answer? Would she let him in? She shouldn’t, but she would. Addie trusts him. She loves him. She hadn’t finishing saying the word, but he’d seen it in her eyes. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s guessed it for a while now, heard it in the way she said his name, felt it when she would squeeze his hand.

He could go back and take all that she offers. Lose himself in her softness, and her warmth and her love.

A year ago, he’d expected the Princess Adonia to be a vapid and shallow thing, someone only concerned with her wealth and status. Someone expecting to be pampered and coddled at every turn.

That was until he’d happened upon her creeping out from behind a tapestry. The sight of her like that, cobwebs stuck in her long chestnut hair and smudges on her face, was so at odds with his expectations. Perhaps there’s more to this princess than I thought he’d mused to himself with a soft chuckle.

There was so much more to her.

The problem is there’s also so much more to him. Zovack gave him one job, find a way around security, find a way for him to storm the palace, find a way for him to take the throne. Information he’d had for months now. Information Addie had given him, with a shy smile and sparkling eyes, not knowing it would spell her doom.

Except it hadn’t.

It’s been many months since she mentioned a passageway that led out beyond the walls of the palace. She was different in the tunnels. Less guarded, her smile wider. He hadn’t known she had dimples until then.

“Do you run off and explore the city when I’m not looking princess?” he’d asked leaning close in the confined space.

He’d been flattered when he’d first noticed her crush. As much as he pretended it was a tactical move, he enjoyed encouraging her affections. He enjoyed the breathy quality to her voice when she got nervous and her habit of biting her lip when unable to think of a response to his antics.

“What? No,” she’d responded her voice flustered.

“I wouldn’t even know where to go. It’s not that I don’t want to,” her voice dropped to a whisper before she went silent. He remembers the longing in her eyes.

He should have gone to Zovack that night, but he hadn’t. She had given him exactly what they would need. She had given him the tools to bring this whole rotten palace down around them. She had given him the tools to free his parents.

It would just cost her life. At the time, he’d told himself he need more information, better information to give Zovack, but was that really the truth? It suddenly wasn’t so easy to sign her death warrant. When did she begin to matter?

Was it that day he heard music coming from a supposedly empty hall and discovered her dancing? He’d been transfixed by the sight of her. Her body swaying and moving to the music in graceful movements as she balanced on her toes and spun and pirouetted through the empty space. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, so much so that he’d leaned out from the shadows to get a better view. She’d caught him red handed, but been so embarrassed that she’d hadn’t questioned what he was doing so far away from his post. He can’t even remember what excuse he’d come up with. She trusted him. She’d always been too trusting.

Was it the day he’d finally led her out into the sunshine on the other side of the palace walls? Her tentative first steps into the city that she had lived her whole life in but never visited. She’d looks so different then, her hair in a long braid down her back, in a stolen hat and coat, no longer a princess, but just Adonia.

They’d sat near one of the cities many fountains sharing a snack and watching the people pass. Her eyes hungry and drinking in all the sights. The children in particular delighted her, “I’m the youngest” she had told him. “Ven’dela was always with her mother, and Arlo didn’t want to waste time playing with a girl.”

Her voice turned wistful, “I wonder what it would have been like to so many friends, at least I have you now, Vexx.”

“Of course, Princess,” he’d answered trying to ignore the feelings of guilt her statement elicited.

Her eyes widened with panic, “you shouldn’t call me that here, what if someone overheard you?”

“They’d probably think I was flirting with you,” he’d said with a smirk. “What should I call you then princess? Adonia?”

“What else would you call me?”

“I don’t know Adonia is a bit of a mouth full, feels a bit pretentious too,” She scowled, her face all scrunched up. He’d laughed, she always managed to make him laugh, and after a moment offered, “how about Addie?”

“Addie?” she tried the name out feeling the syllables out with her mouth, and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from her lips, “I like that.”

It had been Addie from then on. Not in public, because he was still a guard and she was a princess, but, whenever they were alone. Either exploring the streets of the city or the hidden spaces of the palace, they were alone often.

As much as he flirted and teased, he hadn’t planned on kissing her. It had happened on one of their many excursions into the city; they’d been caught in a surprise rain storm. The day had started all sunshine and then the skies had darkened. When it began to pour, instead of running for shelter she’d tipped her head back and let the rain fall over her skin. She’d laughed and then kicked water at him from a puddle. Had they run, they probably could have made it back to the passageway relatively dry, but they didn’t. Instead, they laughed and played and by the time they made it they were soaked.

He hadn’t been thinking about Zovack and revolution, he’d been thinking how the sound of her laugh made him feel light. He hadn’t known until later that it was her first kiss. All he’d known was that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Zovack has been endlessly patient with him, accepting all his delays and promises to fulfill his mission, but from the coded message Vexx had received this morning his patience has run out. Zovack wants him to report in person, and Nerissa needs more time.

Time that Vexx would try to buy her.

Vexx is no fool. He knows that lying to Zovack is dangerous. At best Zovack will think he is a failure, and he’s killed for less than that. The masquerade was one last chance to hold Addie in his arms. To see her smile, and even for just a moment see the world with the joy and wonder that she does.

She’d looked so beautiful tonight. The yellow of her dress complimented her tawny skin, and even behind her mask her blue eyes had sparkled. She’d felt so right in he’s arms as they’d spun along the ballroom floor. He’d seen more than a few heads turn to watch her graceful movements and felt the thrill of pride that she was in his arms.

He’s not sure he’d ever desired someone more.

It was a goodbye. When they danced in the garden, he’d tried his best to imprint her face on his memory. He wouldn’t let himself forget the way the moonlight shimmered over her features and got caught in her long dark hair. He would remember the quiet of the garden and the feeling that they were all alone in the world. Even now, he can close his eyes he can still feel the warmth of her hand in his.

He should have made an excuse when she asked him to come to her room, but he hadn’t. He’d had her there, willing, and open. The soft curves of her shivering under his hands and his lips.

I love her.

That’s what stopped him. When he heard her begin to say it, he knew he couldn’t go through with this. No matter how much he may want to lose himself in her. No matter how willing she was.

It would be a cruelty. It was already a cruelty. There was a whole year of cruelties that he had committed against her. A year of smiles and jokes and dreams of a life they could spend together.

With a shuddering breath, he rises from his slumped position. He only allows himself a glance back down the hall. For a brief moment he considers asking her to run away with him. He always promised to take her traveling.

It’s a fool’s dream. Zovack would hunt them to the edge of the system and beyond.

The only thing he can do now is try to buy them time.

He has to try.

tagging: @lord-king-saint, @bellarxse, @alavidzes, @roses-and-roo, and @pearlsandsteel

#andromeda six #a6 vexx #lovelies writes #oc: traveler adonia #fic: adonia #vn: a6

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