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haztory · 4 years ago

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hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”

“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today!

warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!

a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!

nanami kento x gn!reader

There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option.

Much less any advice about love.

“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”

“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.

Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”

Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.

“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”

A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size.

You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.

“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.

“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”

You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”

Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”

Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.

You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable.

But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”

Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”

“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.

“Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”

“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”

Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.

“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”

Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”

Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”

He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.

And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.

You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”

“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.

“I’m still not getting the picture.”

“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”

Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid—

“Shall we go ask Nanami?”

And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love.

Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation.

It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.

“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”

Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness.

Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it—

Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you.

And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.

An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you.

“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”

“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”

He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out.

An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face.

“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”

In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath.

“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap.

You gulp. “Y-yes.”

“I read your report.”

“You did?”

“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”

Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.

The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before.

You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.

He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.

It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.

“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.

You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.

“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.

You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”

Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”

“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”

Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”

His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.

“And yours?” He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”

You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.

“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.

He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.

Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.

“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”

You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”

Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”

“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.

Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.

And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.

Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.

“Home. Warm and comforting.”

Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”

His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.

“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.

You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?

Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.

“Addicting,” you whisper.

And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.

All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.

So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.

“Hey Kento?”

“Yes?”

“You really do have nice tits.”

“Likewise.”

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #my fics #my writing #my writing event #follower event

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collectionoftulips · 3 years ago

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I absolutely agree with you about how Bridgerton S01 had the whole "Love solved racism." Just one scene and a few lines of dialogue and it just threw everything off.

Like, I'm sorry, what? How? Why!? Just why?

Because they didn't have to do that. The show runner and writers could have taken the Brandy Cinderella and/or Hamilton route. It was right there, our suspension of belief prepared.

And what annoys me the most is that they didn't commit to this alternate history. The world building is half a$$ed at best. There was no commitment to it, so why bring it in?

And then Mister Malcolm's List came along and they did it better!

And I think they realized this because it looks like the Queen Charlotte to prequel is retconning it.

So yeah, it was a bad idea and they either should have fully committed to it with the care of a Dimension 20 campaign (or any other DND show people are familiar with) or just not have done it at all.

The world building is really half-assed and particularly the approach they took with 'love solved racism' really implies that racism is just negative sentiments or negative treatment of certain people. It can be those things but it completely negates the structures that have been/are erected around racism, that perpetuate and oppress non-white people systemically.

The implication that the king just undid it because he fell in love renders that systemic component invisible (which is a huge problem because so much of racism is indirect and not really reducible to one person or behaviour), not to mention it's sort of a 'oh you bothered to undo this really awful thing only when it directly affected someone you care about personally' vibe, which I think really is one of the lowest bars.

Also makes me wonder: did you [Bridgerton's version of the king] not bother with the global slavery, colonialism etc? Like, from my understanding the wealth of Europe is at around the Regency era pretty much almost entirely dependent on colonialism, slavery etc

So in the world of Bridgerton, did they only 'abolish' racism within the UK? Or was it global? If it was global, how the hell are the members of the ton that wealthy?

But who knows, if I'm missing something really obvious, let me know.

It really makes me wonder how diverse the writer's room was in S1 or how much people who might have pointed this implication out were treated.

I really need to watch Mister Malcolm's List, clearly!

I'm really not sure if I am gonna watch the prequel. I think it'll depend on what's on telly around the time of it airing, but I'm not 1000% jazzed about it.

Thank you so much for your ask ❤️

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networksupported · 3 years ago

Text

OKAY. GENERAL LORE POST OF HOW CAS OPERATES.

LET'S IGNORE EVERYTHING I'VE EVER SAID BEFORE ABOUT HOW HE WORKS SHALL WE CHANCES ARE I WAS PROBABLY A TIRED OR B UM. reading the uh. the question wrong.

haha.

that would be ridiculous wouldn't it imagine getting confused between two types of reset haha,, /j

GENERALLY.

generally, cas is a being who lives inside a computer. normally, this computer is one owned by a very nice narrator called thursday, but it can vary. he is able to see everything happening on the computer, but it does not interact or affect him in any way. he is visible to but not phased by viruses, he does not get cards scattered on him when you lose at solitaire- you get the gist.

LEAVING THE COMPUTER.

cas is able to leave the computer one of two ways. one, he simply climbs out. this renders him in a very changeable but unstable form, the emotions of which are dictated by whichever bits and pieces of emotions he's collected from the person using the computer (oh yes; i forgot to mention he can do that too.) or two, he inhabits the shadow of the person using the computer. this renders him in a more stable but limited form, usually appearing more as the actual shadow he's stolen than the forms he prefers to go by. the emotions of this form are also more consistent but narrowed down primarily to whatever the user was feeling at the moment of their shadow's possession.

SHAPE-SHIFTING.

naturally, cas is a shape-shifter. he isn't defined by any decided form, and can pick and choose whatever he wants to make those around him feel either more or less comfortable. however, as this act takes essentially a complete rearranging of every molecule in his body (not to mention, all his internal organs and the good juice like that), it's difficult, not to mention exhausting. normally, cas will only choose to shift once or twice in a row, or if he feels he's in some kind of grave danger.

cas always feels like he's in some kind of grave danger.

GETTING HURT.

cas doesn't bleed. instead, his wounds exhibit a kind of gentle smoke. this is probably for the best, as cas's injuries also never heal themselves, so it helps ensure they aren't left to bleed out for all eternity.

DYING.

any death cas suffers will be permanent.

his own universe no longer exists, and it was with no small miracle he was even able to wind up inside this version of the stanley parable in the first place. while he has managed to sustain himself through resets before, killing him will trigger a process that essentially searches for his saved file, realises it's fragmented and unreadable and wiped half-way across the galaxy, and without anything to work from, also wipe cas from the face of the earth.

as should have been done long ago, if you ask me.

RESETS (THE THING COMPUTERS DO AS IN COMPUTERS INSIDE THE STANLEY PARABLE AND NOT COMPUTERS RUNNING THE STANLEY PARABLE HAHA THAT IMPORTANT DIFFERENCIATION I SHOULD HAVE ENQUIRED ABOUT BEFORE)

suck ass. essentially, with his electricity access reduced, cas will either have to a) sleep it off and sustain himself with other sources of electricity until the computer INSIDE OF THE STANLEY PARABLE UNIVERSE is rebooted, or try and stay awake, sustaining himself on those same sources of electricity.

RESETS (THE THING COMPUTERS DO AS IN COMPUTERS RUNNING THE STANLEY PARABLE AND NOT COMPUTERS INSIDE OF THE STANLEY PARABLE HAHA THE OTHER HALF OF THAT IMPORTANT DIFFERENCIATION I SHOULD HAVE ENQUIRED ABOUT BEFORE)

most of the time, do not affect him. he's unbothered. oh, the world reset around me? guess what. i don't care. that's it that's him.

resets to do with his own death however, as seen earlier in this helpful demonstration? not good!! bad!! not at all helpful!!!!

do not work on him!!!!!

i do hope that cleared everything up :)

#:DISCONNECTED:#:ABOUT:#//#take a wild guess what mistake i made huh im so subtle about it #BUT YEAH GENERAL LORE POST LMAO #tldr: he's a lil computer guy. he behaves like a lil computer except if you kill him THERE IS NO RETURRRRNNNN #tw injury ment #tw death ment

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thetriggeredhappy · 4 years ago

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recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”

 Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #dad!spy #father-son bonding au #shut up me #que?#in this au he picks a fake name like she does. later i think demo starts calling him norman and some of the others do as well as goofs #also apologies for montgomery i couldnt quite get away with not naming random rich guy. just barely scraped by with guards one through four #everybody talks

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adorethedistance · 4 years ago

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9 P.M. - Alive!Luke Patterson x Reader Modern Day!AU

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide, painful breakup, and angst.

Words: 1991

Summary: Luke breaking up with you made your world stop turning, and when it finally starts moving again after four long months, Luke is back in typical agitator fashion.

A/N: Not requested, and I wrote this in about two hours so bear that in mind. I’ve been toying with an angst idea for a little bit now, and because all of my requests rn are fluff, I decided why not give Luke a little love since it’s been a minute since my last Luke fic. This isn’t proofread so proceed with caution.

“What are you doing here, Luke?” Dana’s voice cuts clear over the mindless chatter in the busy diner. She tucks a stack of menus under her arm to brush a loose strand of sandy blonde hair out of her face.

“I’m here to talk to Y/n. She isn’t returning my calls and she only has her phone on silent when she’s working.”

A solid four months ago, Luke Patterson had broken Y/n Y/l/n’s heart into a couple billion pieces in this very diner. After Luke requested to meet up as soon as possible, Y/n told him she’d be clocking out for the night around 9 PM, and true to his previous request Luke had arrived at 9 on the dot. He considered taking her to his car for more privacy but in fear of forgetting his long, crafted speech, he opted for a secluded booth in the very back corner of her diner.

He still remembers the evening, clear as day. They sat down across from one another on the red vinyl seats with nervous tension exponentially rising between them. He remembers the way she ruffled her loose hair after having it pulled back for an 8-hour shift. He remembers the way she rested her right ankle on her left knee to massage away the calf pain from 8 hours of waiting tables. And he remembers the way her warm smile disappeared after he uttered the words “I think we should break up.”

Y/n was so shocked she couldn’t respond. Everything seemed to be going well between them. They had said their first ‘I love you’s and she had even opened up to the possibility of giving him her virginity. And here he was, a mere week later, claiming that he had fallen out of love with her over the span of a month.

Tears clouded her vision. She was quick to wipe them away before they fell, something Luke noticed that she only did when she was crying out of anger. With her normal sadness or even stress she just lets her emotions run their course. But the anger swelling inside of her at that moment, she so desperately wanted to hide. As a result, she brushed them away. She bit her tongue. She saved face, not wanting to let Luke know just how much he had hurt her.

Luke expected a full-on interrogation. He knew Y/n’s mind was one of insatiable curiosity and she had to have at least a million questions. However, if she did, she didn’t show it. The only question she asked, “Is this really what you want?” Her voice was steady, but Luke knew how badly she wanted to tear him apart, to ravage him right then and there. But after losing such a huge part of herself, Luke, she held onto her dignity so tight it nearly crumbled into dust and blew out of her clenched fingers. Without asking for any more information, she slipped out of the booth and hurried to her car as fast as her walk could take her.

At the time, Luke felt guilty for making her cry. Now he feels guilty for ever having let her believe she wasn’t good enough for him. The only problem is she wouldn’t give him the chance. And her best friend, Dana, didn’t seem like she would give him one either.

“Well, she’s not here. Have you ever considered she’s not returning your calls when she’s off of work, too?”

“Dana, I need to talk to her-”

“What could you possibly have left to say, Luke? Whatever you said to her that night broke her, it absolutely destroyed her. She hasn’t been the same since.” Luke had no trouble believing that was true, which is why it hurt so bad to hear, granted it didn’t hurt as bad as how Y/n felt that night.

“What? No- I-I really need to talk to her.”

“You really don’t.”

“I have to get her back, Dana!” A tornado of shock and anger consumes Dana to the point where all she can do is let out a bitter laugh. The look in Luke’s eyes indicates how hurt he is by her laughter, and Dana’s desire for vengeance has never been so strong. So, she continues to tell the truth. The ferocious, unabridged, hurtful truth,

“You don’t deserve a second chance. You don’t even deserve an attempt at a second chance. Knowing her, Y/n would never tell you this, but I will: you fucked up so bad, you made her almost make the biggest mistake of her life.”

“What?” Luke almost hesitates to ask, knowing he won’t like the answer.

“That night, she came to my place and cried so hard for three hours before she could even get a coherent word out. She stayed with me for three days and, had my shift not ended early that Tuesday, she wouldn’t be alive today.” The dumbstruck look on Luke’s face is only more motivation for Dana to twist the knife, “She almost didn’t survive losing you, Luke. And god forbid she gives you a second chance because she won’t survive losing you again.”

The diner is just crowded enough that no one is paying the two of them any mind as they faceoff by the hostess stand. Dana spent four long months consoling her best friend back to life, and she was not about to let Luke destroy all the hard work Y/n had put into healing.

“I can make this right.”

“How could you possibly make this right?”

“I know more now than I did before. I’ve changed!”

“So has she.” Dana’s biting words render Luke speechless. Once she realizes her work here is done, she continues setting up tables as they’re disinfected.

__________________________

Luke’s conversation with Dana in the diner left him shellshocked, but it also lit a fire under his ass that he needed to move forward. Rather than discouraging him, Dana’s words gave him a greater incentive to win her back: proof that he was willing to do what he said he would. At least, that’s what Luke told himself. Rather than stepping into the future with greater clarity, Luke went into the world with confidence so large and blinding, his actions may sabotage his true intentions.

That’s how he found himself so determined to win Y/n back. And that’s how he found himself face to face with the front door of her home. It’s 9 PM, just early enough to where she’d be home for the day, just early enough to where she wouldn’t be asleep, and hauntingly just the exact time he had broken her heart all those months ago. Before giving his conviction a chance to back out, he was raising a steady hand to ring the doorbell of her residence.

Y/n opened the door without much thought, expecting a food delivery; she was drastically off-put by Luke’s presence at her doorstep this late.

“Oh.” Was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“Hi. Can we talk?”

There it was. The phrase that was a paradoxical toss-up regarding her emotional state. Half of her has been waiting for this day for so long, dreaming of the boyfriend she once knew to come genuinely heartbroken and remorseful to win her back. The other half was terrified of this impending day as she realized she wasn’t nearly as emotionally strong enough to handle the situation as she thought.

‘Oh’ was the only response manageable for the tired waitress.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please just give me five minutes and if you never want to hear from me for the rest of your life, I’ll never bother you again,” he rushes out, knowing his time is finite. For what short period of time he thought it over, Luke always imagined pouring his heart out on her front doorstep. That’s why her silent sidestep and opening of the door caught him so off guard. He hadn’t anticipated her to actually give him a decent chance. Why would she? He broke up with her in the very diner she works in full time and crushed her heart so completely, the only things left behind had to be contempt and resentment.

Luke crossed the threshold of her small, cramped LA home with his heart on his sleeve. Reluctantly closing the door behind him, Y/n walks to her living room and sits on the couch amidst a mess of popcorn, her favorite chocolates, used tissues, and a bottle of Advil. The night Luke broke up with Y/n was four months ago and she’s still spending her Friday nights alone crying on her couch with a rom-com on the tv. A sharp pang of guilt cuts through Luke’s chest like a machete and his previous confidence completely dissipates into sadness. Though, he can’t tell if it’s actually remorse or just general pity.

“What did you want to talk about?” Y/n asks as if she doesn’t know what conversation they’re about to have. Luke takes a deep breath to prepare himself as best as he can before explaining what’s been on his mind.

“I am so sorry, Y/n.” His hopes for any sort of reaction are crushed once her blank stare doesn’t waver. In spite of everything that’s happened thus far, this is the moment Luke realizes this would be a lot more difficult than he anticipated. “That night, you asked if taking a break from… us was what I really wanted.”

“I remember.”

“I said yes and you left right after that. I know you’ve blocked my socials, but you haven’t blocked my calls, you just don’t answer. I’m sure you’ve got to be interested in why, you’re a very curious person.”

Luke wasn’t wrong there, Y/n had been wondering why. She had been wondering why since the words left his mouth that night, but she repressed that curiosity. She repressed it because she knew that whatever the answer was, it didn’t make any difference. Luke wasn’t hers to have anymore and that was what really mattered.

“I did it because I thought I was falling out of love with you.”

“You thought?”

“I wasn’t actually falling out of love with you.”

“You weren’t?”

“No.”

“Then why’d you break it off?”

“I thought I was falling out of love with you but really my attraction was just changing. Instead of just spontaneous and passionate and exciting, I began to see our relationship as comforting and secure as well as those other things. I thought my comfortability was falling out of love, but really, I was falling in love. I was no longer just super infatuated with you, I was in love with you. Genuine love.”

“Luke…” Y/n trails off. She has no real idea of what it is she’s thinking so she opts to let Luke continue until she can figure it out.

“I love you, Y/n. And I broke things off because, before you, I didn’t understand love. Hell, with you I didn’t understand it was love, but now I do! I love you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“So, what does this all mean?” Luke draws in a nervous breath, identical to the one he used to soothe his nerves as he stepped into the all-too-familiar house.

“I know I don’t deserve it because of what I put you through… but all I’m asking is for a chance to prove that I really do love you.” The looking shimmering across Y/n’s eyes tells Luke how her thoughts are running wild. She’s experiencing a new train of thought at a mile a minute and it terrifies both of them.

“You hurt me, Luke. And I want to hate you so much for everything that you put me through, but I don’t, and I hate myself for that. But, I’m sorry. I can’t give you a second chance.”

***

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul

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rouiyan · 5 years ago

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𝘖𝘍𝘍 𝘐𝘊𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ jeno's installment of the keep your cool collective ⧐

synopsis: he likes to think it's romantic how he always finishes your sentences for you. you think it's annoying that he keeps interrupting you.

✧ ice hockey player!lee jeno x (fem.) tutor!reader ✧ college au

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slightly suggestive ✧ word count : 4.4k ✧ disclaimers : mentions of sexual activities, swearing

✧ author’s note — same universe as my puck in your goal which does not need to be read first but can be. also, hi @crownily i did it :)

let's just say jeno sucks at school and that the one thing he doesn't suck at is hockey, ice hockey. and let's just say that you're his tutor, strictly for tutoring purposes. yet, here you find yourself at his doorstep at 3:47 in the morning, or so your phone says.

he opens up to see you clad dressed down, different from the neat tee and skirt he's so used to. to be completely honest, jeno has never felt anything towards you and even he himself finds that hard to believe since you're everything he could ever ask for in a girl. pretty and cute, snappy but sweet, the most perfect curve of lips and above all, you're an intellectual. he finds it attractive but he isn't attracted to you, per se.

jeno wished he would though, especially now that he's suffering from what he called you here for in the first place: an extreme case of breakup.

one hand leaning your weight on the doorframe, the right of your shit rides up. jeno bites down on his lip, retracting his eyes to your face. "let me get this straight, you called me here, at this time of night, to get me to help you with what exactly?" so what if he thought fucking you would be a good way to keep his mind off things? too bad he didn't think any further than that. the words come to his as he speaks, "i just thought that- that...you- you would be awake at this time! because you know- you like to study…did i interrupt anything?"

donning a dreary expression, you nod in clarification, "yeah, you interrupted my studying."

"right, okay, i'll let you get back to that," he turns in haste as if to close the door behind him but you catch it with your heel, a scowl making its way across your face at what you were about to say, "forget it, jen, i'm already here. what do you need help with?" you stare into his back, his widening eyes unbeknownst to you. he turns again, now deliberate in motion, just to give him as much time to get his bearings together. lifting one shoulder in suggestion, and truthfully confusion, his voice is a pitch higher when he responds, "...studying?"

and that's how he finds himself staring into the crack between the wall and the far end of his desk, your figure hovering above him but not in the way he'd planned for, planned poorly for. jeno is on edge and frankly, he feels incredibly bad because he doesn't understand anything that comes from your mouth and the words you jot down on his paper before him all seem to collide and blur into each other. that's when he realizes he's started crying.

and that's when you're rendered speechless as the boy sits there, the little tracks running down his face wetting the paper you were teaching off of. "jeno, oh my god. fuck, you good?" you don't want to come off as prying so you avoid the whole 'why' notion but you're not that socially inept to miss that he didn't call you here at such an ungodly hour of morning just to get some unpaid tutor hours in and he certainly isn't crying because he doesn't understand shit.

a hand of his is sifting through his hair while another rubs harshly down the side of his face. "i don't think you should- i'm just gonna go get you some tissues, i'll- i'll go get that." you turn on your heel and navigate your way from his room to the kitchen you'd passed on the way in. it's dark and you know he has roommates, you were less than willing to make your presence known. to your dismay, the kitchen was currently being occupied by a man whom you've yet to identify, being only two steps in when you stop in your tracks.

he identifies you first, "y/n, what are you doing here?" and you pick up from the voice that it's donghyuck. your foot hits a cabinet before your eyes get a chance to adjust to the lighting, "fuck, yeah i'm here with jeno, well i'm not- not like that, we're just studying."

"just studying?" there's no way to see it but you swear the cock of his brows is apparent as it would be at day. you hum in response, fingers trying to make out the paper towel dispenser you were sure you caught a glimpse of on the way in. "so you're saying," he pulls out his phone and the light that emits from the screen is enough to guide you in the right direction before he shoves is back in his pocket. "that you booked a tutoring session with him at 4:19 a.m.?"

tearing one, then two, from the dispenser, you distractedly let a disbelieving, "yup," past your lips. hyuck scrutinizes you in the dark and his next words nearly shock you out of your skin, "is he fucking you because he just got dumped? is that why?"

you swivel at lightning speed, "he what?" hand over his mouth, donghyuck seems genuinely apologetic, though you wouldn't put it past him if he was not, "shit, you didn't know?" folding the paper towels two times over in your hands, you gingerly across the room to where the boy is seated, "i mean, i know that he didn't call me here just to study but that's legitimately what we ended up doing." he doesn't answer for awhile so you follow up with a question, "you think he wants to fuck me?"

hyuck looks you straight in the eye, "yeah, yeah i do." it hangs unsaid in the air between the two of you, but it's within both of your knowledge that jeno only wanted you here for sexual relief from his frustrations, that whatever else could be denoted by the deed was simply inapplicable for this situation. you shake your head of the thoughts, "so, what are you doing up this early?" you know that there is a weary and weeping jeno you have to get back to but you also know that your presence is somewhat unwelcome there, uncomfortable even, while he wades in his fit of tears.

hyuck replies with a heavy tone, "he gave me some things to think about too."

and you jump to conclusions all too quickly, "he wants to fuck you too?"

"god, y/n, no."

a weak laugh lining your demeanor after the last of the interaction, you reenter jeno's room to find him sprawled wide, his back to the bed. "hey," you preface as you round upon his bed, setting the paper towels on his nightstand. it seemed his tears had run their race and his eyes were now staring lethargically into the ceiling. perching yourself on the edge, you reach to place a hand atop one of his, giving two reassuring squeezes. "need anything?"

only now does jeno seem to take note of your arrival, his eyes hooded eyes flit to you for half a second before resolutely tugging you by the hand you had clasped within his. "what-" your breath is stolen from you as your back hits his chest. jeno drapes his arms across you front, "jeno, what-"

"i need a pillow, that's what i need."

you blink, trying to make sense of your thoughts, "did you ask me here to fuck you numb?" his body goes rigid underneath yours and you're right to assume that you've pinpointed the answer. "i'm right, huh?" eyeing downwards, his fingers are fiddling for you to see. after a few moments laid in bated breath, he lets weakly, "sorry about that, it's not gonna happen."

"yeah no shit," is said dulcetly despite the denotation. you feel his chuckles reverberate beneath you. "i'm really sorry, i swear i don't think of you that way." a smile upon your own face, you turn in his arms to place an expression to his voice. propping your head up on your folded arms, your arms atop his chest, you peer into his eyes sincerely. there is much that needs to be said, the reasonings behind his unexpected breakdown and the closeness you suddenly feel with still have to be addressed. but at this hour in the morning, you can't bring yourself to.

instead you query, "should i stay the night?" he peers into your eyes with equal sincerity when he responds, "it's already early morning, you'd probably be off better sleeping here." giving a soft nod and a few moments to rearrange your thoughts, you perk up again just as he's about to fall asleep. he isn't annoyed in the slightest, rather he smiles at that, your voice, "do you have practice tomorrow?"

it's his turn to give a nod in response. "wanna come watch?" your arms move around his chest, encasing him like how he's encased you. hiding your smile in the front of his sweatshirt, your voice comes out muffled, "i'd love to but i'm a bit busy, jen. next time, maybe."

at your response, it's the first time that jeno feels, acknowledges, that his heart drops, even though it's in the slightest. there's an image of you in the stands, your textbooks in your lap and glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose. the image moves as he moves cross the rink and you look up when he passes by, eyes bright and a small smile and thumbs up in encouragement. from then on, it's that image that's plastered in his mind every time he thinks of you, that one self-conjured image.

jeno feels his heart drop even more when he awakes to an empty bed. he finds that the text that you've sent in departure isn't nearly enough to repair his spirits, he wishes you were there instead.

practice sucks ass the next day and the day after that, he doesn't pay it any mind, knowing more than well enough how renjun whispers of the news of his breakup among the members. he doesn't hold it against him though, after all, his ex is his teammate's best friend. jeno thinks it hurts the most when his ex shows up at the next game, the one he'd invited you to when you'd crossed paths on campus a few days ago. he finds himself in a weird predicament between trying to forget about a girl and chasing after another one. he can't tell if he really likes you or if he just needs a rebound.

today, jeno decides it's the latter because he's fuming the entire game at how hyuck would send winks in her direction, how he would skate up to the edge of the rink to converse with her during their breaks. jeno hates how she's moved on all too easily and he feels and urge to prove that he can do the same. he wants to prove to himself.

he's let almost every goal in by the time the buzzer signals the end of the final round. the coach reprimands him because at this point, he might as well be from the opposing team. the helmet is off in a split second, he showers for the briefest of moments, only allowing the water to slosh across his body one time before he's patting himself dry. jeno slips the towel from his shoulder throws on a hoodie in its stead. he's out the locker room in bare minutes where he comes face to face with you. you, with the little sheepish, apologetic smile on your face. you, who'd just arrived from your shift at the local cat adoption center, late for the game but in just time for him. you, the only person he's been aching to see the whole day. but even now, he's unsure of exactly why.

"y/n, hey," he's by your side in an instant, hesitant in his actions but words tumbling out nonetheless, "you came. late, but...you came."

you meet him in the middle, hands coming up to your aid and waving nonsensically as you speak, "i'm so sorry, my shift was extended and i forgot to tell my boss beforehan-"

"it's fine, i'm just glad you're here." he readjusts the bag onto his shoulders in a nervous fit. he barely manages to make eye contact with you and he wonders when he started to feel this way about you or, again, the desire for a rebound, his need for a taste of vengeance is willing him to act this way. jeno shrugs off the thought and fills the silence with an offer, "so do you wanna go...do something together?"

jeno should know by now. the little sparkle that glints in your eyes and the way his stomach upturns itself in response. he should know by now how much you like him too. hyuck exits the locker rooms in that instant, he greets you in passing as he joins a girl up ahead. you turn back to jeno, momentarily distracted, only to find his gaze hardened and fixed on the girl. a sickening feeling erupts within you as you begin to piece one and one to make two.

he turns back to you and you avoid his gaze. the shift in your countenance jolts him as much as his had jolted you. you lick your lips before looking back up at him, your own eyes guarded. he wishes he knew why. "jeno, i'm gonna have to rain check. i just- i thought of something- something came up. i have to go."

you're stalking away from him before he can even process it. he's lucky that his strides are long because he catches your wrist right before you get to the exit, "y/n," he tugs gently so that you turn to him but he's caught off guard even more when he sees the tears that have begun to form in your eyes. "why are you like this all of a sudden? what happened?"

you shake your head at him, hurriedly swallowing the sobs before you can embarrass yourself even further, "nothing, jeno. i just realized something." you stare down at his wrist expectantly but he only clutches it tighter, "then, what did you realize?"

he lets go of your wrist now and you feel like your heart couldn't get any heavier as you answer, "i realized that i'm just a fill-in until you get over her." jeno sucks in a breath as he watched the words leave your mouth, as he watches you turn and leave, and he hears more tears bubble from your frame, the sounds receding the farther you walk from him. for some reason, it's only when you tell him so that he understands that he feels the exact opposite.

it's only when you shove it in his face, your own face scrunched up in tears, that he's only going after you as a rebound, when he sees his feelings for what they really are. honest, jeno finds it hard to believe that he's never felt anything towards you since you're everything he could ever ask for in a girl. pretty and cute, snappy but sweet, the most perfect curve of lips and above all, you're an intellectual. he finds it attractive, he finds you attractive. fuck it, he likes you.

fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, your next tutoring session was scheduled for just a few days after, just enough time for him to get his act together and enough for you to cool your head enough sift through the thirty or so voice mails he'd left you. most of them seem to contain the same rueful, repentant tone, though a few seem to be displaying his slow spiral into self-deprecation. you're pretty sure the last is a mistake, a butt dial maybe.

jeno's not proficient with the knife, definitely not with how he's cutting the pears right now. he thinks he would've been better off bringing bananas but that would've seemed too insincere, wouldn't it? his thoughts are jumbling and sludging against one another when a finger of his slips and the fine edge of the knife is pressed on a knuckle. "fuck," he swears, his other hand already reaching over to the sink to run the cut under cold water. the sting is piercing and he looks away from the cut to the clock overhead. "double fuck," he mutters this time. the last thing he needs right now is you thinking that he stood you up.

with steadfast athleticism, he finishes off the last of the pears with one hand. he's sure you'd laugh at the whole debacle if you were there though he's thankful you're not. jeno faces the fear that he sucks at everything except ice hockey, and he's barely getting by these days. he only ever feels confident on the rink with his stick in hand, crouched low so his eyes were level with the ice. he's never felt that much control over anything else, much less confessing to a girl and trying, somehow, to show that she was of much more worth than what he'd made it seem like.

the library is a ten minute walk from his house, a three minute sprint. yes, he had sprinted.

he knows for a fact that pears were the right way to go when you let the tiniest of smiles adorn your face at the sight of him setting the tupperware in front of you. you check your expression back into taut impassivity before he can indulge in his victory any longer. he knows you're not half as mad as you present yourself to be but that doesn't mean he'd take his mistakes lightly and go about this sleazily. jeno needs your trust.

you resist the urge to reach over and flip over the hair that stood upright on the wrong side of his head. reverting your eyes onto the computer screen before you, "let's get started." not a half hour into your session, you're spaced out, eyes zoned onto the way jeno spins his pen between his fingers. maybe it's the lack of sleep that's getting to you.

"y/n? you good?"

you swallow thickly, removing your gaze from his hands, from him, from his paper, from anything that has to do with him. you notice how your chair has inched closer to his, or his to yours, you notice the finger-wide distance between you and him. shivers are sent down your spine. "let's take a break, is that fine?" jeno, from beside you, yawns and for a brief second you think he's about to pull the stretch and hand around shoulder trick. you blush unknowingly.

jeno speaks before you can ask to resume the session, "can i say something?"

"is it work related?" you give your best efforts at keeping your voice level and head turned somewhat in his direction. in your peripheries, he cocks his head to the right, "...no, but we're on break." almost letting a huff escape your complexion, you relent, "fine then, shoot," figuring he would say it anyways.

"i want you to come to our next game."

you're lucky you had the whole scenario thought through, at least something can be harvested from your late nights spent tossing and turning, "i don't think i can-"

"y/n, i haven't even told you when."

"okay fine," you wrinkle your nose in distaste and hand out the truth for him to see, or hear, "i just don't want to." jeno is doing his best, he really is, but he knows that you've heard all that he has to say, if not once, then twenty-nine times over. the last one was a mistake. "did you get my voicemails?"

sighing, you chance a glance at him to see that he isn't the slightest bit annoyed, face drawn into a frown of sorts. you'll never admit that even just the sight could soften your set mindset. consideration replays in your irises when you answer the yes or no question with a decisive nod.

"then i'm sure you understand why i want you to come."

jeno lets you drive him home that day, he'd be the last to complain. the ride is silent from start to finish until right when he's about to close the passenger door, the car parked in front of his shared house. an, "i'll think about it," is what he's left to brew over for the next week or so as he stares that the text, read and unreplied, that he'd sent to remind you of the day and time of the game. he's anxious but it's only to that extent.

it's becoming more and more evident that jeno is loosing his touch on ice. he hates that the only thing he can attribute it to is his dwindling love life. he finds that the enforcer is atypically rough today but he's glad that his role at the goal requires the least interaction and footwork. he'd promised his coach that he would be more wary of his surroundings but he can't help the occasional glance at the rink entrance every once in awhile. what he doesn't understand is that his definition of 'once in awhile' marks at around every thirty seconds.

the last round is the most painful, undoubtedly, because it's as if his defeat is being dragged on and on, as if the giant timer above the rink is ticking to the heartbeat of a dead man.

jeno can is aware that he's breathing. he's aware but he has to double check when the entrance doors open for the last time that game and you've arrived. you're standing by the doorway, apprehensive, but jeno can't get it past his head that you've arrived, that you're here. he'd have gotten decked in the face had you not motioned your head in the direction of the fast approaching puck and the burly man behind it.

he blocks the shot and every shot after. there's no need to wonder why.

the buzzer rings in his head so quick that he thinks time runs on his emotions rather than the clock. his helmet is often in seconds and he's making his way at supersonic speeds to the part of the rail where you're stood. the glass fogs with his breath as he tries to get his words across. 'i'll be quick,' he mouths.

you count two minutes until he's off ice. jeno hasn't bothered to shower, he lacks the patience for it. he sits you down on the lowest of the bleachers, closest to the rink. standing over you, he finds that he has so much to say, so many things he wants to let you know, all the feelings he's ever bottled up for the girl so obviously made for him.

he's never had much of a way with words but he thinks that the romance movies hyuck's made him watch over the years give a pretty good overview of what to say in situations like these, "i'd cross the world for you." you snort back at him, nose crinkling in distaste at his choice of words and poking fun at him with your own, "rink, jeno. you mean you'd cross the rink for me."

"y/n, i'm tryna do something here," he whines, the pout on display mimicking his displeased but light-hearted implications. you're equally as amused, "oh yeah? what are you tryna do?"

"i'm tryna," he takes your two arms in his and wraps them around his middle. you instinctively fist the fabric of his blue jersey at the back, "jeno, what are you-" you stop when a hand of his own comes to trace the lines of your face softly. maybe he can't find the words but surely he could show you. if he could just…"you keep interrupting me, jeno."

drawn from his resolution, he's snappy when he retorts, "i think as your boyfriend i ought to have that privilege."

"boyfriend? since when did you-"

"i just did," he revels in the idea that you think him to be smooth with words when in reality the 'boyfriend' was a slip up, a mirror of his daydreams. he's over the moon that it worked out in his favor. while he fixates on just how much he feels for you, you're playfully annoyed at a whole other, "stop fucking interrupting me, jen-"

"i love you."

you blink up at him. well shit. a lot of things are happening and you lack the brain cells to process them. there's only one thing you can think to do, only one think that you're thinking about, have been thinking about, will still be thinking about.

he may be the one to steal words right from your mouth but beyond that he's oblivious, you think. the smile still plays on his lips when he follows up, "is it okay to interrupt you if i say something like tha-"

you press a smile of your own onto his lips, cutting his words effectively. a hand of yours moves up to the curve of his neck to bring him down further, the angle at which he is kissing giving him all the advantage he needs to deepen it. when you part, you aren't surprised to see how half your body is leaning on the row of seats behind you and that jeno's entire body is sprawled on yours, supported by a knee on one side of you.

you like your lips as you feel his breath hot on yours. "how's it feel now?"

shaking his head, jeno presses his temple to yours so that the only thing you can see is him, just him. "interrupt me any day, will you?"

✧ end note — wrote this up in approx. three hours. lee jeno is so rude for interrupting all my other wips (that are also mostly for him). i hope you enjoyed because i did, i freaking love writing for him <3

#nct jeno #nct scenarios #nct fics #jeno fluff #neothestars #neo-constellations #hockeyplayer!jeno #jeno angst #lee jeno #lee jeno fics #nct jeno fics #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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jiminrings · 4 years ago

Note

mayhaps 👉👈 a valentine special with the homebound couple? Where Yoongi is scattered brain as to what gift he should get for y/n (he really doesn't know how and what gift to givE y/n) and it's not like he forgot about valentine's day, no, he's been preparing for it for long (boy messed up once and he doesn't want to mess up agAin-) and he still doesn't know what gift to give y/n??? Cause??? He literally have her one new gift each day for a week and also he wanTs it to be special because y/n deserves everything— whereas y/n completely forgets about valentine's day and :') Yoongi's low-key hurt but won't say it-

yeS, just an idea- is this too specific tho?

homebound: valentine special

pairing: yoongi x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: this time, yoongi’s the one who unintentionally gets stood up — and on valentine’s day too!! >:(

read homebound here!!

notes: babe you’ve sent this request in back in january and it was just tOO good to pass up so here i am :D writing a valentine special a month early :D

there has got to be a glitch in the system

yoongi’s system is flawless wITHOUT a single hitch

he has the same drive as t h r e e full and cold cans of monster energy when he’s in the tracks

sure he crashes to sleep just as hard but that is not the point

yoongi can sniff out inconsistencies and partly, it majorly has something to do with him being book-smart AND street-smart!!! if he wasn’t zooming past other cars for a living then he totally would’ve taken up psychology

he can also plan things really good and he’s never failed at it actually.,., he’s too competent to even half-ass anything

one time it was jimin’s birthday and yoongi professes that he’s his only favorite crew chief <3 even if he’s the only crew chief he’s ever had <3

that alone must’ve been enough for jimin’s next three birthdays but anyways of course yoongs doesn’t stop at that!!!

he gives him a surprise birthday bash in a rooftop that overlooks the whole city in which u could see the stars and fireworks that spell out his name

not to mention that EVERYONE invited to the party is required to wear a black suit and jimin would stroll up as the only one in a wine-red suit :D

it seems oddly too specific and the fact that yoongi GETS what’s in his crew chief’s mind is just amazing

something about the abruptness and warmth of the situation..,.

also not to mention the endless opportunities for photos and then puns and then enough material for his crew chief to feel like the motherfucking boss that he is..,.,

yoongi specifically hired someone to fly a drone and take overhead pictures in which the people are just walking diagonally in their boring old black suits, and there’s jIMIN standing right dab in the middle in his outstanding red suit (you were the one who found then bought it for him as a gift) looking UP and then smoldering at the camera with his hands in his pockets

for the record :D jimin has that framed in his house :D

see??? yoongi has such a notorious track record for being good in what he does, and that includes planning

aight aight he humbly thinks that it’s not wrong to tap into his god complex every once in awhile but holy shit mAYBE he’s omnipotent

but right now?

as in right now?

yoongi thinks that there’s a glitch in the system

maybe HE’S the glitch

he is a pathetic speck of dust in the universe

he’s a sim that’s been rendering for the past hour and can never be moved away from walking into the wall no matter how many times you reset

for once, yoongi is absolutely clueless.

he thinks he’s screaming into the void but now it’s spiraled into what if HE’S the void

it’s february 1st!!!

it’s the first day of february, right?

uh-huh and what is the day after february 1?

february 2, of course!!!

how about twelve days after that

......

WHAT’S YOONGI SUPPOSED TO GET YOU FOR VALENTINE’S????????????????

it’s a little dent to his ego but he just swallowed his pride to ask jungkook what you’d like

they’re progressing as best friends anyway but of jungkook would never let yoongi live down his asshole phase when he gets tOO comfortable <3

yoongi once pointed at a zit that was forming on your cheek bc you were nearing your period

jungkook does poke fun at u and ur zits he’d have to give you pimple patches for, but that dOESN’T mean yoongi can do it too >:(

“hey! remember when you were an asshole and blamed y/n-...”

they’re clearly not hostile towards each other, that’s for sure

yoongi allows the boy to hug him every once in a while but that’s mostly because he needs good rep with your best friend that you’re attached to the hip to

that’s what exactly perplexes yoongi rn

he aaked jungkook for help and he straight-up just LAUGHED at him

“what’s so funny about my frustrations huh???”

kook actually looks like he’s gonna pass out lmao

his cheeks are all hot and red and his eyes are just begging to tear up

“why would you ask me what to get y/n for valentine’s??”

“because you’re her best friend?????”

he couldn’t be any more confused because why does koo find that as a surprise

he should actually be happy because he’s here bEGGING for a clue

“exactly! i’m y/n’s best friend, not boyfriend.”

yoongi squints at that

....

..... isn’t that established enough?

jungkook just snorts at how he looks clueless, snagging another chicken nugget that his hyung’s bought to butter him up

“that takes away the whole essence of the gift, don’t you think?” he starts, tilting his head to see if yoongs is catching his drift

<3 he’s not <3

“you’re allowing me to think of myself as y/n’s boyfriend to get a present?”

yoongi’s face falls

he’s totally underestimated jungkook’s ability to catch onto moral dilemmas

“or are you making me think as is? wouldn’t that equate to a boy-friend gift iNSTEAD of a boyfriend gift?”

holy shit

yoongi, in fact, doesn’t have all bases covered.

when it comes to something as supposedly easy as this, he is definitely not in the drift

he’s not in pole position for this one!!!

he probably isn’t even placed all the way to the back!!!

he’s most likely outside the arena!!!! :D

he is certainly MILES away and not in a good way

jungkook claps him in the back twice, snagging his meal before yoongi even gets the idea to take it back

“you’re all alone in this one, man :D”

for a change, jungkook’s the one who shoos yoongi out

he’s literally just STANDING there dumbfounded and on top of that, he just looks like a character that isn’t done loading yet

literally what else could he buy for you when he’s utilized all his gift ideas for the past week??

it’s to his own accord that he spoils you but now he’s just empty thinking about a special one

maybe his excessive knowledge about movies n shows could come in handy!! after all he’s spent hours watching them when he’s in queue to drive

even jimin used that to his advantage for yoongi to get gold flawlessly and would risk getting his hand bitten to turn off the TV

the most driven yoongi would ever be (before the time that his girlfriend just happened to be his pit crew member and blows him a kiss telepathically) was when he’s in a cliffhanger and he gets snatched up

he NEEDS to know if ji eun-tak removes the sword from kim shin’s chest!!! it’s literally a life or death moment and it makes yoongi zOOM past everyone

alright think

uh he could buy you a star??

you’re just “naming” an entity that belongs to the cosmos and totally nOT to some random people with like a hundred dollars to spare

that’d be so fucking dumb

it could be a bit more personal??

no nvm you already have the key to his apartment

and just last week, he gave you his perfume!! and the week before that, yoongi handed you all his tracksuits that he didn’t wear anymore

what’s something that’s sentimental and not as quick-lived as flowers.,,.

something that just pricks you by the neck and would leave you no choice but to let his valentine’s gift live in your mind rent-free for the rest of your life.,.,.

hmmm

wait a second :D

yoongi’s been buzzing non-stop and he always has to physically clamp his mouth shut just to keep himself from spoiling his gift early-on

“yoongs omg look at this gingerbread h-...”

“BABE I’LL BE RIGHT BACK YEAH?? GOTTA GO TO THE BATHROOM”

you aren’t that suspicious of his behavior but you’ll take it anyway, being particularly amused at his new attitude of jumping two feet into the air at the random things that you say

in fact, yoongi’s so excited that he’s woke up at 5 in the morning with nO alarm at all and without the need to scoff at every single thing

he doesn’t even act like this for his official schedule ://

he’s gonna pour in his time for breakfast because of course that would put you in a good mood!!!! nuh-uh he’s not just gonna pour cereal for you into a bowl and call it a day

it’s (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ valentine's ♥ day and he’ll assume the role of the boyfriend who outperforms himself every time

yoongi’s whipped up like five of your favorites for breakfast and he was jUST about to load it into this caddy that he’s specifically bought for this day (the top parts dismantles to a tray which is sO cool) and take it into your room when-

... when you’re already awake?

and leaving your room dressed in what’s definitely not his shirt and most probably your errand clothes????

he’s not quite catching on here

and neither are you lmao

yoongi gets a fat kiss on his cheek and that’s about it, leaning into more so you’d kiss him again but you uh.,. you don’t do that?

“....... good morning i guess????”

he physically gets motion sickness just by looking at you fetch things around to throw into your bag hurriedly and he has YEARS of racing under his belt pls

he feels hesitant to ask, really, hiding the miniscule and the minor yet sTILL hurting burn by the base of his thumb behind his back, voice turning low in question

“where are you going?”

you’re a lil concerned because yoongi never got this soft-spoken, but u just chalk it up to the fact that he woke up before you instead of the other way around

“gonna buy us a new couch,” you only falter for a little, grabbing the keys to your car that he squints at

“i can drive you there,” he offers and more-on pleads to spend a little more time with you, but you dismiss him with a hand

“it’s okay!! i know you don’t like shopping that much anyway, so you could just go rest back here :D”

that is true

maybe partially true

....

alright starting now that is a big fat LIE

“no, no, it’s okay!! if you don’t — you can take my car instead if you don’t want me... to come with?”

he pauses a little unsurely, giving you an offer that would atleast comfort him in his own ways

yoongi legitimately owns a row of parking spots by the garage to accommodate his little collection!! just take one with you and that way he’ll feel that he’s with you

all of them have receivers for comms and maybe that way, you could tell him on the way to the store why you’re LEAVING him to buy a couch so early in the morning of this particular day

“bringing your lamborghini to a furniture store doesn’t sound like the best idea, no?”

you cheekily reply back, holding his forearms together to look up at him playfully and he softens quickly

ok maybe he’s not that frustrated anymore

yoongi once again (and pathetically) oFFERS his black card to you, an eager smile on your face when you shake your head no because YOU’LL buy the couch alright

he still feels a little dejected when you kiss him goodbye with a skip on your step, his multiple dishes for breakfast long-forgotten

no worries!!

this is just a lil hiccup!! nothing a little water couldn’t fix :D

he wants to look at the positive side of you leaving and not even greeting him a happy valentine’s day!! there needs to be a silver lining pls

maybe this was your plan all along!!!! purposely forgetting what today is!!!

that’s probably a lot of fun :D

oH OKAY OKAY maybe that translates to couch sex???

uhhh you’re gonna have a giggly n romantic dinner at the couch later??

instead of regular stuffing, the couch’s actually filled with presents???

maybe it’s a signal?? couch dOES have the same amount of letters and sounds alot like coo-

what if it’s a couch but like...

ｍｅｔａｐｈｏｒｉｃａｌｌｙ

that’s it tHAT’S the spirit!!

yoongi doesn’t even know why he’s worrying about all these things because frankly, he knows you enough to know that you wouldn’t forget

you don’t like being behind on things either which is why he shouldn’t underestimate you

you always have tricks up your sleeve and yoongi knows that your first valentine’s as a couple wouldn’t end up in sad tears :))

on second thought

maybe this day is gonna end in sad tears

knowing you, you’ve probably done your research on the couches themselves bEFORE you went to the store

maybe you’d be over about two hours maximum

okay maybe the store’s packed and they’re looking through their stocks? ok three hours maximum maybe

perhaps there was someone who bought all the couches and you’re waiting for a restock?? alright…. four hours maximum

you’ve forgotten about your boyfriend and the fact that it’s valentine’s day… nine hours maximum

yoongi’s just so sad

he is a blob of anguish personified and he’s cold and alone

he feels so unlike himself and he feels bad

so unlike himself, that he doesn’t even pick up his phone the moment it rings with a notification

maybe it’s best that he’s just lyinG there on bed with his face down

he feels as useless like the extra chips that would be ignored in a camping trip because everyone overestimated the amount that they’d be eating

yoongi feels like he’s the equivalent of the crumbs left by the bottom of the toaster

: (

his head perks up immediately when he hears the door open though, quickly rearranging himself in the bed to seem more natural and definitely nOT going thru the temptation of hibernation

“yoon- oh! good news, they say it’ll get delivered by tomorrow!!”

you tell him like it’s no big deal because after hours outside, the couch ISN’T you

you take your part in squeezing into the sheets, yoongi quickly placing himself to where your shoulder meets your clavicle and takes refuge there

you seem so unbuzzed and unbothered and he’s the polar opposite

he feels impssibly tINY that even the vulnerability he feels shows up thru his voice

“baby?”

“hm?” you reply as quick, absent-mindedly running your hand through his hair with your eyes glued on the show in front of you

“what do you think about valentine’s?”

okay that’s a sudden squestion??

his bottom lip’s tucked, taking note of the way you snort playfully and don’t even think twice about what you say next

“valentine’s? i think it’s pretty pointless to be honest lmao”

you do kINDA view it that way

you just feel that it’s become an excuse to be the only one (1) acceptable day to make someone feel loved ?? sir there are literally 364 more

realistically thinking, it’s just a random day that’s been given meaning and it seems like something that’s MEANT to be only reserved for that day

it’s the same as new year resolutions!!!! you’re motivated oNLY by the calendar date itself and not by the fact that uhhhh you could lit rally do it any other day

you’re explaining softly, even tilting to a yawn because your feet are tired because of last minute errands until you hear it

yoongi’s tearing up to your chest and he’s not even hiding it

his sobs are soft and could be barely heard and that’s what makes it hurt even more

“what?? w-why are you crying???”

you spring up almost immediately, but yoongi’s head only pins you down because as much as he’s crying, he doesn’t want you to go

this is his greatest fear and he doesn’t want it to be realized

“a-are you — are you b-breaking up with me?”

...

......

“what? no, yoongi!”

you almost yell at him with sO much certainty that his eyes widen, head tilting because you sound more sure than ever

how could he even think THAT ??

“you didn’t let me finish!!”

yoongi considerably pales bc there’s more to that??

you weren’t done stepping all over valentine’s day??

dear god pLEASE NO

you surprise him once again when you hold his face firmly, cheeks squished together with an intimidating loving stare

“but despite all that, you make me want to celebrate valentine’s with you.”

that sounds better

“you changed my perspective, y’know?” you make quick work of wiping his tears away with the pads of your thumbs, quietly laughing under your breath because you didn’t expect that he’d take it this way. “would willingly subject myself to capitalism, just for you babe!!!”

yoongi breaks into a goofy smile at that, melting just as quick as he cried and leaned more to your touch bc after all that, he just wants to be hELD

“i’ll treat you real good tomorrow.”

you promise sincerely, pressing a playfully wet kiss right on the middle of his forehead, “it’s hearts day tomorrow, right??”

lmao

now THIS is embarrassing

he tries not to laugh, pursing his lips because his breathing’s shaky with trying to keep it stable

“actually uhm.,.,, valentine’s is actually today.”

you practically LAUNCH yoongi away from you, fishing for your phone by the nightstand in panic

WHAT???????

ok that clearly reads february 14

“i’m so sorry,” you apologize again and again, burying yourself in yoongi’s neck with how ashamed you feel but he just can’t hELP asking

“s’okay,” he mumbles, massaging your nape gently in small circles before he whispers, “did you get me anything?”

except for your blunder about the date and not grasping the concept of time, you luckily did NOT fuck up yoongi’s gift :D

he’s being tugged down so you could whisper, partly to also hide your cheeks that are warm just by thinking how you even came up with it

“couch sex.”

yoongi heartily gIGGLES because that just confirms his assumptions, a nice contrast to his tear-stained cheeks

“o-oh and polaroid nudes!! :D”

his eyes BULGED out that he looked like an overfed goldfish for a sec

he did not expect that but he is definitely not opposed to that

“me? d-did you get me something?”

you feel a lil shy to even ask but he takes it in stride because of coURSE he did for his best love!!!

he was BORN for this question

he nudges you so you’d lie on a pillow, going out to retrieve something very quickly when he comes back with a manila envelope in his hands, definitely piquing your interest

it’s something he’s thought about intricately and he just feels so sure of it

“y-yoongs?”

it’s a plot of land

an actual, very real, certificate saying that there’s this plot of land titled underneath your name and yoongi’s

“you can do whatever you want with it.”

he means that wholly

you could turn it into a kim kradle franchise!! you’re an all-rounder anyway and if the guys would want anyone to expand their business, it’d be you

could be turned into an establishment!! the two of you ate somewhere called that ramen place one time and you’ve considered that your zenith

it’s land for whatever you want it to be

it’s free real estate under your name and his and it’s this realization that shakes you to your core

yoongi’s too pleasantly soothed with your response that he instantly notices the moment your nose scrunches, this time being your turn to cry

“what about a house?”

your voice is croaky and he makes sure to fORCE you to blow your nose and he won’t let you continue until you do just that

“built from the ground up. doesn’t have to be finished within half a year or however long the tv says it should take,” you gulp down the water he hands you, lip trembling into an ugly sob

“we’ll have a big garage for you, okay?”

yoongi cackles at your plans, touched at the same time because this is happening

“then we’ll spend all the rest of our valentine’s there.”

his eyes once again pOP and he’ll go back to crying again

the two of you prolly look ridiculous crying and holding each other, flicking his forehead when he starts to spiral again

“calm down lover boy, we’ll feel it when the time’s right!!”

he eagerly nods at that, more than eagerly pushing you out of the bed so you could get changed

yoongi loves you but you will NOT cuddle him while wearing outside clothes ://

“can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“couch sex? or the polaroids? or the new pair of shoes i hid under the bed??”

AHHHHHH

maybe all of the above. probably all tomorrows with you

yoongi snorts, pressing yet another warm kiss to you

he’s about to sleep when you move closer, whispering for the last time for the night

“i’ll let you know just in case but my eXACT ring size is-...”

#HAPPY VALENTINE'S!!!! FEEDBACK PLS AND THANK U :D #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #yoongi oneshot #yoongi oneshots #yoongi drabble #yoongi drabbles #yoongi au #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi fic recs

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beomglocks · 5 years ago

Text

terror ave. ; c.bg

warnings and other: um?, theres a serial killer, murder is mentioned, nothing too detailed, not proofread bc i wrote this at 4am

"we advise everyone to be in complete lockdown as there have seemed to have been reports of a serial killer gone loose in the area. so far no one has been injured but we suggest taking extra precautions tonight. please do not go outside during this time. lock your doors, close your windows, and turn off all the ligh-"

frowning, you look down at the tub of ice cream situated in between your legs. you lick the ice cream from your spoon as the rest of the news report gets drowned out by your thoughts. wait- shit i think i forgot to lock the back door... you shrug. you forgot that you had invited your neighbor beomgyu over, earlier in the day. he had insisted that he had a cool new pokemon to show you on his switch and you, stupidly, allowed him to show you. to your dismay, it only turned out to be a measly skwovet.

"gyu, you can literally catch these at route 1. you know, in the beginning of the game?" you had told him with a disappointed look on your face. "you're on your 5th gym."

he had gasped in offense, bringing his switch closer to his chest to shield the creature from further judgment. "y/n how dare you! it's the cutest pokemon in the game so of course, i went back to get one. don't you think you're being too mean?"

you giggled to yourself remembering the little back and forth. you've been living alone in your current house for only a couple of months. you were surprised your parents let you move out and have a whole house in the suburbs to yourself considering how strict and overprotective they were. upon moving, you quickly befriended choi beomgyu, the literal boy next door. he had offered to help you get your couch through the door and proceeded to eat his melting chocolate bar on said couch. from then on you and him have been best friends ever since, sometimes having him sleepover or vise versa.

you weren't worried about some rando serial killer in your neighborhood since nothing ever happened to you. you were convinced you weren't the main character.

from your couch, you looked outside to see that beomgyu's lights were already turned off. he must've gone to sleep early. your eyes catch the clock on your wall and you subconsciously yawn when you see how late it is. 1:56 am? damn... i should probably go to sleep too.

you pick up the tub of ice cream and take it back to your kitchen. its fucking chilly in here. you rub your arms as goosebumps start to form on them. you peek around the corner of the wall dividing your kitchen to where the back door is located. it's slightly cracked open and that raises some bit of concern in your head. again, you shrug. you remember beomgyu leaving out the back door since he liked coming in from the back instead of the front. an odd quirk of his that you never got to question him about because every time you tried he would simply smile at you cutely and say something like "its cool that's why."

you walk over to the door while being cautious about where you step since your house was pretty messy. you shut the door and sigh, dragging your body towards the living room again to turn the tv off. the news reporter was just about to give more instructions but frankly, you're too tired to care.

now that the tv was turned off you felt a weird sense of loneliness. the white noise being emitted from the screen becoming a bit too deafening to your ears to handle. you switch the tv off properly and toss the remote somewhere on the couch.

you walk up to your bedroom while scrolling through your Instagram feed. you laugh at the caption of beomgyu's latest post because it's alluding to the argument you both had earlier and type a comment hoping that he'll have time to read it when he wakes up.

when you reach your bedroom you toss your phone haphazardly on your bed and flop yourself into the sheets. today was fairly unproductive but that's been the premise of your days lately. you wonder how you manage to do absolutely nothing yet feel the weight of 10 thousand bricks on you back.

you sigh as you feel yourself slowly drift off to sleep but a noise in the room next door startles you. if you had been fully asleep you probably wouldn't have heard it but you're sure you heard a noise even in your half-asleep state. you sit up in your bed pulling the sheets closer to you. you decide to hold your breath in case you hear another noise or if you're just being delusional and sleep-deprived.

you wait for a while and after 5 minutes you don't hear anything. you sigh quietly but before you can settle back and get back to sleep you hear another noise. ok, you know for sure you have no roommates and beomgyu always tells you he's coming over before he does. the room you're hearing the noises from is the storage room where you keep all the extra furniture and miscellaneous items that you haven't had the chance to use or set up yet so nothing should be moving in there. you also recall the movers checking the house for any squatters since that seemed to be more common than most people would think. that day you had been happy and relieved to know that there was none of that in the house.

a thought crosses your mind that it could be the serial killer that's on the loose currently. if that's the case then the killer is in your house, a few feet away, in a room that has old kitchen knives that you decided don't need to be displayed.

you stare at your door while reaching for your phone. you can hear the person walking around the room and dragging the knives across the wall in a menacing manner and that's when the anxiety finally kicks in. your eyes start filling up with tears at the thought of a deranged serial killer being just a couple feet away from you, literally a wall away.

you feel your phone graze your hand and grab it shakily, slowly getting up from your bed. you don't wanna call anyone right now since the walls are thin, the killer might hear you then it's really game over. once you get to your bedroom door, you push it open so painfully slowly that you just wanna sob right there. you hate that something like this is seriously happening to you.

the killer doesn't seem to be out in the open yet. you figure they're still deep in the storage room. that gives you some time to get out of your house and maybe run to a police station or something. you walk out into the hall and cautiously walk down the stairs hoping they won't do that annoying thing where they creak in intense moments. thankfully though, you make it down the stairs.

immediately, you bolt out of your house. you don't know why but you have the sudden idea to ask beomgyu for help. you run to his house and ring the door repeatedly, you don't care if you're being annoying. you look back at your own house and all the lights are still turned off except for your bedroom lights which you left on. hopefully, the killer isn't persistent and won't come looking for you. you turn back to beomgyu's door and keep ringing the doorbell hoping his ass will wake up since you know he's a heavy sleeper. "come on, come on. fucking choi beomgyu, come on!" you whisper anxiously.

suddenly the door swings open and an angry but half asleep beomgyu is standing there. his hair is disheveled and his face is scrunched up in confusion and drowsiness. you push past him and jump on his couch covering yourself with one of his pillows. "y/n? what the fuck are you doing. it's like 2 am?" he shuts the door, walking over to you.

"is everything locked? the windows? the door just now?" you look up at him, biting your lip. "yes everything is locked and look," you watch him walk back to the front door and lock it. "now the door is locked. mind telling me why you bum-rushed into my house at the ass crack of dawn?"

"gyu-" you can't even manage to get a proper sentence out because a broken sob leaves your mouth rather than words. you walk up to him and hug him tightly. you don't care that you're probably soaking his t-shirt with your tears, you need him to know that you really care about him and you were almost permanently separated from him today. "y/n?"

"gyu t-the killer. the s-serial killer! he's in m-my house right now," you sob even harder into his shirt and you're glad he feels warm because those 2 minutes of ringing his doorbell out there made you almost freeze to death. especially since you're only wearing your pjs which consisted of a t-shirt and short shorts.

you feel him hug you back and you sigh shakily as he rubs your back to comfort you. "y/n," he says simply. you pull away from him, which you immediately regret because you start to feel cold again. "w-we need to call the police," you wipe your tears harshly but to no avail, since they just keep falling against your will.

you take your phone from your pocket and start to dial but beomgyu takes your phone from you and pockets it into his sweats. "y/n, i've never seen you cry. you look so pretty when you cry," he leans closer to your face and you flinch when he brings his hand up to caress your cheek before wiping a stray tear from it.

"gyu, we need t-to call the police! it's not the time f-for games. give me my phone please," you move his hand away from your face and motion for him to give your phone back. he chuckles right in your face, mockingly.

"please, she says."

you watch expectantly as he takes your phone out of his pocket but feel your heart drop with it as he lets it fall to the floor with a deafening crack. if that wasn't enough, you watch in disbelief as he stomps on it with force, effectively rendering it useless.

your eyes start to fill with tears again and the sinking feeling that beomgyu isn't gonna help you starts to settle. "w-why," you blubber. you fall to the ground in defeat and confusion. you don't even have the strength to run to the door to get proper help because you felt you had no energy after watching beomgyu turn his back on you.

"ever since you moved here i've had my eye on you. i really like you y/n. scratch that, i love you y/n. the other girl that lived in the house before you was boring so i had her killed off within the first week of her moving here. i mean she was pretty but you're gorgeous, i like you much more." he lifts you off the ground and examines your face to see how your taking in this information. you can't even speak because of the burning sensation in your throat from trying to hold back your tears so hard.

"i bailed that asshole killer out of jail and hired him to kill people for me," he continues. "didn't actually wanna get my hands dirty."

he moves you to sit on the couch as if this is just another normal conversation between friends. it finally clicks in your head what's happening and you stand up and snap at him. "what the fuck gyu? i thought you were just a regular person what the fuck is wrong with you!" you begin to walk to the front door but he grabs you with a force you've never felt him use before.

"y/n really? i've been protecting you this whole time!" you can sense that his patience is thinning. "all this time! when we walked to the store and those guys catcalled you, i had them killed. that guy that hit on you in our seminar class, he's gone!" he smiles wickedly and you hate the fact that he still looks like your adorable best friend.

"y/n you're the only for me. im sorry i scared you but i knew if the serial killer went to your home you'd come running to me," you feel him rubbing your hand soothingly and you pull away from him with disgust.

"don't touch me! i'm going to the police, this is fucking sick." before you can even reach the door you hear something click. you feel a cold metal around your wrist and when you look down you see that beomgyu has handcuffed you to the door. "you're not leaving y/n, do i really have to do this to you? i've been waiting for months just for you to run away?" he whispers.

"beomgyu let me go right now," you seethe. the anxiety you felt before is only heightened when you look around and catch someone leaving from your house. "beomgyu please," you resort to petty pleads.

he pouts at you, "don't worry y/n i'm not gonna hurt you, i would never." he gives you a tender kiss on your forehead before standing up again.

"i just want you to myself that's all."

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notthelatin · 5 years ago

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This is the House We Get Murdered In: The Ritual (2017)

The first time I saw David Bruckner’s 2017 monster movie The Ritual I liked it a lot. The second time I watched it I fell head-over-heels so hard that I decided to just start a blog so I’d have somewhere to deliver this dang sermon. If you’re on the fence, and you like monsters, or creepy forests, or just really good character writing, go watch it. If you still need some convincing, read on.

There’s a thing that happens in horror sometimes, where the building of tension supersedes the building of character. I get it, I do, they’re trying to scare us, and sometimes they get so focused on threatening the people on the screen that they forget to make us care about the people on the screen. Horror that emphasizes thrills over depth can be fun, can even strike terror if it’s good enough, but it’s harder to inspire real horror when your audience isn’t sure why they should care in the first place. Sometimes, in acknowledgment of this, a movie shoehorns in a little monologue just before the climax, in the hopes that it will inspire us to suddenly love this person enough to care when their face is bitten off in the next scene. The Ritual is a movie that seeks not just to avoid that particular narrative sin, but to avenge the audiences that have fallen victim to it. And holy shit, do I feel avenged.

Never mind that the setting is gorgeous, that the sound design is stellar, that the dream sequences are my favorite of any movie I’ve ever seen. I could tell you that the performances are all believable and touching, and that the monster design is the most unique I’ve seen in years.

But what I NEED to tell you about is the writing.

This movie spends its entirety rendering a careful, thoughtful portrait of its four main characters. Four men in the early half of middle age, Hutch, Phil, Dom, and Luke, on a multi-day hike through Scandinavia. It’s a trip their friend Rob wanted to take before he died. They’re here to memorialize him.

Every interaction and every scrap of dialogue between these four is beautifully intentional. Every joke or offhand comment is there to tell you about one of these men, or about their history together, and none of it feels extraneous. When they find a spooky cabin in the woods, one quips “This is clearly the house we get murdered in”. His friend shoots back: “not as bad as our uni accommodations”.

This is the only mention of their time in university. A movie that trusted its audience less might treat us to a flashback of their freshman hall, or a stiffly recounted anecdote about how they all met. The Ritual knows that we don’t need anything more. We know that these men, who are at the stage of life where they’re moving from benders to brunches, have been friends since college, since they were barely more than kids. It’s a world of history rendered in a single joke line, and it feels natural, it feels genuine. Every decision in this movie is made with the same care- from the jokes they make at one another’s expense, to the way they react to the growing tension of knowing they aren’t alone in the woods, to the ways they comfort themselves and one another when things start to go wrong.

There’s a scene where they’re marching, hungry, though the woods, daydreaming about the meals they want when they reach safety. Amidst conversations about steak and red wine, Dom announces that what he REALLY wants is a “McDonalds burger, on a metal tray, eaten alone”. It’s played for laughs, but it also tells us exactly what kind of man Dom is in one line.This is a man who chooses quick, emotionally satisfying, nutritionally empty solutions to his problems, and doesn’t care if it isolates him. Later, when he decides, in a fit of frustration, to march away down a random path that’s heading in a different direction than the one they need to go, completely alone, we BELIEVE him. This is not a random panic decision, or a stupid unrealistic plot choice made by writers who wanted to get their characters lost at any cost. That path is a McDonalds burger, and he’s happy to eat it by himself. Similarly, blame is the cheap, easy solution that Dom turns to in his grief. Dom is angry and in pain over the loss of his friend Rob, and blaming someone is the easiest way to make the pain more bearable, even if it means pushing a living friend away. It’s quick, it’s easy, it feels good. It doesn’t bring Rob back.

The visuals in this movie are striking in a way that something so sparse shouldn’t be able to pull off. The colors are desaturated, the lighting is a uniform diffuse, overcast gray. And yet, when weird shit happens, that pared down approach lends itself to a certain shocked surreality. The signature quick-cuts and zooms we find sometimes in monster movies aren’t here in the Swedish forest. When there’s something terrible to see, we just see it, full screen, steady cam, quiet. It’s worse that way, somehow. Like the characters, we can look away, but that doesn’t mean the terrible thing is gone, and the daylight doesn’t soften anything.

The only missteps I found in this movie are towards its climax. The terror has been ramping up in such a satisfying way, and we’ve spent so much time in the quiet, measured, tense isolation of the forest, that when the setting changes to something man-made it feels almost mundane. We’re not sure whether to be terrified or sort of relieved. In the midst of some excellent character development, a nameless Swedish hillbilly wanders in seemingly just to mutter exposition? This is how the movie decides to tell us just what’s been stalking the woods all this time. The scene is brief, but in a movie that’s so careful, almost miserly, with the information it gives us, even that feels like a clumsy info dump. The character motivation for divulging this information isn’t very clear, and honestly, the writer’s motivation isn’t either. It seems like, for just a minute, the director stopped trusting us. “We can’t let an audience draw ALL the conclusions, can we? I’ll just spell this one out”.

Ultimately, that brief stumble before the (excellent) climactic scene doesn’t really detract from the movie. The Ritual is a smart, thoughtful, careful character portrait, and a touching exploration of grief, guilt, and the ways that we find to forgive ourselves and each other. It’s about standing up, sticking together, and moving forward.

Also, the monster kicks every ass. 10/10

#The Ritual #Horror #Horror Movie #Horror Movies #Monster #Ritual #Review #Monster Movie #Horror movie reviews

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adamfoolcry · 5 years ago

Text

How the Tables Turned (One-Shot)

pairings: Reader x Hendery, Lucas(mentioned)

rating: PG-13

warnings: none just cringe inducing fluff

genre: comedy, fluff

synopsis: You are a student assistant at the library and Hendery seems to love staying in the library past open hours.

word count: 1,734

a/n: Mentioning @nctcreations in case the tags don’t work. I love Hendery he exudes so much positivity and is very thoughtful.

Everyone who is acquainted with you knows that you are good-natured and possess a calm temperament. Right now though, the way you are glaring at the back of Wong Kunhang's head makes you resemble a bull seeing red complete with steam blowing out of your nostrils. The ticking of the old clock as it counts every second passing by infuriates you as if it's its sole purpose. It is already past five in the afternoon to other high school students it isn't much of a nuisance but to you, it is life or death. You need to be out of the school premises past five and should be on the way to the cafe you work in the evenings. Being a minute late at your part-time job means that you will receive a lengthy sermon from the cafe's owner as if they will not deduct it from your salary. But here you are still at the library waiting for Wong Kunhang to go on his merry way so that you can return the book he is pretending to be reading back to its respective shelf. Honestly, you would have let this pass but it's as if he is doing this on purpose for the past seven days. Adding salt to the wound, for every single day he takes a different book bringing it to his desk leafing through the pages eyes unfocused. Making you conclude that he is not doing any reading at all but just drops by the library to spite you. Each time before he leaves he will try to approach the desk where you are situated at and as if changing his mind in a millisecond he always makes a hasty retreat, exiting rather abruptly. You have reached your threshold and decided that you are going to confront him, for whatever his game is this got to stop. You walked towards the desk where he is, standing from behind his seat. You cleared your throat to get his attention. He craned his head back to look at you.

"Ummm, hi"

He immediately stood up from his seat in a frantic manner and rise to his height to stand opposite you. The seat's leg scratched the concrete producing a screeching sound.

"Hi, my name's Kunhang you can also call me Hendery if you like." He scratched the nape of his neck sheepishly smiling.

"I know who you are it is past five and the library closes at 5:00 PM sharp and I need to be at work -"

"I can totally take you there!" Kunhang exclaimed cutting you off. His words echoing in the empty library. You were not expecting that, the heat started blossoming on the tops of your cheeks.

"Uhhhmm, I was going to say that if you can, you know tidy up before five that would be great." You replied awkwardly.

"Ohh uhmm sure sure." You can see that he was embarrassed. He picked up the book from the desk. "I am sorry, I am gonna put this book back." You watched him as he put the book on its respective shelf and exited the library leaving you bewildered. Well, at least you got that over with.

After that incident, you no longer have to deal with him as he does not visit the library anymore. But he now occupies the other half of your brain you see him from your peripheral vision wherever you go. It seems that you are hyperaware of his presence and you can't take your eyes off him. How could you not notice before that he sits a few seats away from you at classes? By the things are going you can probably write a one-page essay about him.

He likes cats, not fond obsessed is the right word. His pencil case is imprinted with cat designs. He keeps a picture of his cats in his wallet, you know because you peeked over his shoulder at the cafeteria while he is paying for his food. He always remembers to feed the school's resident stray cat every morning. You saw him one morning bending down at the bushes near the outskirts of your school petting and feeding the stray cat.

He always hides a manga behind his textbook during classes snickering quietly so that he wouldn't be caught. Strangely enough, for someone who is not trying to do his best academically, he excels in maths and sciences and actively participates in those classes.

He likes to exchange crumpled notes with Yukhei. Maybe containing a joke or two because one time the teacher caught them they were kicked out of the class and got detention for the rest of the afternoon.

You can't deny that you are fascinated with him the same Wong Kunhang that you used to curse in your mind. You might even develop a tiny crush on him. This is why you found yourself boring holes at the back of his skull with the intensity of your gaze. Looking for minuscule details to add to your Hendery's cute and quirky habits list. Yukhei caught you in action sending you a wink and a teasing smile like he knows what's going on in your mind. He leaned down and whispered it to Kunhang.

Oh god no ...

Which made Kunhang spare you his attention looking at you with his biggest signature goofy smile. You abruptly hide your face behind your textbook and pretended that you are not gaping pathetically at his back so intently. You avoided looking at his direction for the rest of the day but you can feel Kunhang's eyes following your every move making you flustered and rendering you to something akin to tomato for the rest of the day.

You do not feel good scratch that this is the worst menstrual cramp that you have experienced in your life. Top that with the fact that your PE teacher has instructed your class to do ten laps in the field under the sweltering heat. Your peers are already ahead of you and you have long given up trying to match their pace. You stopped jogging and clutched your stomach the spasms intensifying making you double over in pain.

"Hey _______, you okay?" Kunhang kneeled at your crouched figure.

"Yeah, I am fine." As soon as you said that your abdominal muscles contracted so hard and a whimper escaped your lips.

"Let's go to the clinic you don't look so good." Kunhang reached for your forearm and slung it on his shoulders providing support to your frail figure helping you stand up. Although feeling like you might pass out any minute you can't help but observe Kunhang now that your bodies are now in close contact. His perfect side profile, tall straight nose, big doe eyes, plump pink lips, his floppy hair that frames his face, and his light perfume which smells like the sea breeze. As Kunhang led you to the clinic he started telling you about the time he collapsed due to over-exertion at one of the PE classes blaming the teacher's strenuous routine and launching on his tirade about what a pain in the ass the teacher is. You giggled finding his attempt to comfort you adorable.

"I am on my period Kunhang. The cramps are a bit on the painful side today."

"Oh ..." Hendery said embarrassed.

After dropping you off at the clinic Hendery got back to the PE class to inform the teacher about your mishap and that the nurse advised you to take the rest of the day off. You decided to rest up at the clinic and head home after the classes are over. Exiting the clinic you advanced your way to the classroom to collect your belongings when you froze on the spot upon seeing Kunhang leaning at the opposite wall to the clinic. He was carrying your bag on his shoulder. Noticing your presence he greeted you with his smile.

"I thought it'll be a hassle for you."

You can't help but smile back at him, taking your bag from him as the two of you walk towards the school gate Kunhang started bribing you to buy him ramen as payment for his good deeds.

He has this habit of looking at you but he isn't trying to hide it, in fact you think he is waiting for you to catch him because every single time you caught him redhanded he'll flash his goofy smile at you. The first few times you caught him your initial reaction was to start blushing but after the novelty of being embarrassed wears off you just shook your head smiling your eyes crinkling in mirth.

He'll always approach you and start acting cute doing silly little poses sometimes Yukhei drags him off before he starts embarrassing himself other times Yukhei will join in and start imitating Kunhang's comical poses resulting in overjoyous laughter erupting from your classmates.

He leaves you food and other trinkets on your desk. Lately after coming back from the cafeteria the ever-presence of food at your desk baffles you sometimes it contains other miscellaneous items like hair clips and ties. It was not after that your cramps manifested again that you finally knew who the culprit was for in your desk is a hot water bag. You quickly looked in the direction where you knew Kunhang was sitting, his head thrown back laughing at Yukhei's joke. As if sensing your stare he turned his face in your direction and grinned charmingly doing another of his silly poses.

It's fifteen minutes to five o clock and you need to make sure that every book is on their designated shelf and there is nothing out of its place scrutinizing the library with a sweep of your eyes you deemed that everything is in order. You grabbed your bag under the desk when the sound of the door hinges creaking got your attention. You quickly look to whoever dares to come in at the library fifteen minutes to its closing time. Surprise it was none other than Wong Kunhang. You walk up to him to stand at his opposite side, clearing your throat to get him to address you.

"Is the offer of a ride to my workplace still up?"

"Only if we go to the movies afterward."

"It's a date then."

There it is Kunhang's goofy smile. Perhaps you are too, smitten with him.

a/n: Read more of my works for NCT here:masterlist.

#nctcreations #hendery nct #hendery x reader #hendery fluff #hendery scenarios #hendery imagines #hendery wayv #nct fluff #wayv fluff #nct imagines

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minimitchell · 4 years ago

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“Can i at least take my shoes off before you pounce of me?” Because I know you want to😏

(smut ahead)

7:36.

7:37.

7:38.

Ben watches the minutes tick by on his watch, following the minute hand as it makes its rounds around the black clock-face. The house is empty and quiet; a far cry from its usual state with two kids running around at all times of day.

Today though, it’s sitting silent and idle on the square. There’s no music blasting from Lexi’s room, no cooing coming from the nursery upstairs, no low humming from Callum cooking in the kitchen. Ben didn’t even switch on the TV to keep him company.

Instead, he’s sitting alone on the couch in complete silence, alternating between staring at his watch and at his phone in his other hand, waiting for a message from his husband.

He will always be supportive of Callum and his career - they’ve gotten over their hang ups about their different career choices a long time ago and ever since they had their baby Ben hasn’t had much of a criminal career anyway - and he will always be on Callum’s side, whatever his husband wants to do.

He just wishes becoming a detective would come with less seminars and time away from their family.

Callum spent the last two weeks up north around Newcastle, completing a course and attending a seminar to prepare him for his final exam, and while Ben is insanely proud of him for doing all this training and studying to climb up the ranks in his career, he also misses him terribly whenever he’s away.

It’s worse at the moment. Their youngest daughter is right in the middle of teething and while they really lucked out with her when it comes to crying and sleeping through the night, it’s still exhausting to deal with this all on his own. Not to mention juggle the housework, his own job and Lexi as well.

He’s lucky that Lola and his parents were here to help; that they’re always willing to take Lizzie for the afternoon so he can get some paperwork for the Arches done or just take the girls out for an ice cream so Ben can take a quick nap. It’s completely exhausting, and he really doesn’t envy any single parents out there, but he wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

They tried to facetime every night when Callum was done for the day so he could say goodnight to the kids - sometimes Lizzie only falls asleep once she’s heard Callum’s voice for the day - and talk with Ben about their days. It’s not the same though, not even close, and it’s certainly not enough to satisfy the longing that’s made a home in Ben’s chest for the last two weeks.

Which is why he’s sitting alone in their home right now.

Callum called him a couple of hours ago to let him know he’s on his way home and now, over four hours later, he should be here any minute.

Ben is positively vibrating out of his skin; he desperately longs to have his husband back with him, to have him back in his arms, to feel him against him again. Hearing Callum’s voice is great, but it’s never gonna trump actually having him here with him in person.

He takes one more look at his watch when he hears a key being inserted into the lock in the front door, the sound of clothes rustling and a suitcase being hauled in following soon after.

7:51.

Ben doesn’t give his husband much time to arrive, strutting into the hallway and taking Callum’s face in his hands to pull him into a kiss before Callum can even get a word out.

Callum makes a noise against Ben’s mouth in surprise, before he lets go of the handle of his suitcase to wrap his arm around Ben’s middle, his other hand dropping his keys and settling on one side of Ben’s face, cupping his cheek.

The kiss deepens, with Ben pushing their tongues together before nipping at Callum’s bottom lip, not letting up until his mouth is puffy and red. There’s a hunger thrumming low in his stomach; a familiar need taking over every rational thought and only leaving room for feeling, wanting.

The vibrations of a low chuckle reverberate in Callum’s throat when Ben moves down to litter kisses along his neck; the hand previously on Ben’s face runs up into his hair, tangling in the soft part on the back of Ben’s neck.

“Can I at least take my shoes off before you pounce on me?”

His voice is light, filled with a smile Ben can somehow hear without directly looking at it, and god did he miss this voice. He still heard that voice every day for the last two weeks but for some reason he missed it terribly regardless.

Ben relents, disentangling himself from Callum to give him enough space to take off his coat, hanging it on the hook right next to their front door, and shrug his shoes off. As soon as his second sneaker finds its place on their shoe rack though, Ben’s hands are back on Callum’s chest, fiddling with the top button of his shirt in his quest to get it unbuttoned.

“Lexi is at a mate’s house all night, Lizzie is at my mum’s.”

Ben looks up at Callum from under his eyelashes, biting his bottom lip into his mouth. His mum had definitely seen right through whatever flimsy excuse he tried to give her when he asked whether she could watch their baby for the evening. But he just wanted some alone time with his husband after being separated for a fortnight, alright.

Callum’s eyebrows rise higher on his forehead; a sly smile spreading over his face. Callum shared a room with another colleague when he was away so there wasn’t much phone action going on at night and Ben just knows Callum’s as desperate as he is to finally have each other again.

“So I really need you to fuck me right now.”

Callum is back on him in a flash, hands wandering down to Ben’s ass and mouths smashing onto each other while he walks them into the living room and in the direction of the couch. Ben falls backwards onto it with a heavy thump, not being able to hide the hungry look on his face when he looks up at his husband. He feels almost dizzy with want; every second he doesn’t have Callum against him feels too long, too wasted.

Ben watches on as Callum unbuttons his shirt and throws him somewhere to the side, using the downtime to get out of his own shirt and get his jeans unzipped. It’s oddly reminiscent of the beginning of their relationship, the time before their kids were lurking around every corner, for them to just be able to get it on like this without a second thought. But god does it feel good to not overthink how loud he’s going to be or be aware that they always have to keep one ear on the babyphone.

He loves his kids but right now he really loves that they aren’t here.

Before he can pull his pants and underwear down though, he’s stopped by Callum’s hands on him, running up his thighs. He’s perched in front of Ben now, knees on the rug in front of the couch. Ben scooches down a bit, bracketing Callum in-between his legs.

Their eye contact never breaks as Callum pulls his pants and underwear down in one go, letting them fall haphazardly to the floor beside him. His fingers trail back up Ben’s legs, over the coarse hair there and down the crease of his hips. Goosebumps are following his digits, breaking out on his skin in response to the soft touch.

Callum leans down to press kisses over his thigh, inching closer and closer to Ben’s dick in the process. It makes him reach out to tangle a hand in Callum’s hair, holding onto it with a vice grip. He wants to tell Callum to stop teasing and get on with it but no words are coming out. It’s like he’s too turned on already to speak; the sight of Callum on his knees in front of him enough to render him speechless.

A moment later, Ben is sure he wouldn’t even be able to speak if he wanted to anyway, not when Callum seals his lips around the head of his dick and starts running his tongue all over it without much warning in advance. The curse that falls from Ben’s lips is loud and uninhibited, his fingers tightening in Callum’s hair.

He’s been practically half-hard since Callum had announced he’s on his way home and it only takes a couple of bobs and tugs for his dick to stand to full attention.

It’s not going to be a very lengthy endeavor, Ben knows it the second he feels that familiar tug in the bottom of his stomach, that pressure running through his lower half. He also didn’t get off in two weeks now, telling Callum it’s in solidarity when in reality he just much prefers his husband’s touch to his own by now, and right now it feels like it won’t take more than a few more seconds for him to tip over the edge.

“Fuck, babe, I won’t last like this.”

He’s torn between wanting to come and trying to draw it out a while longer, maybe get there together with Callum, but the decision is made for him when Callums pulls off with a wet sound, pressing kisses up Ben’s stomach on his way to his lips. Ben welcomes the kiss to his lips with a sigh, pushing their tongues back together to taste himself.

God, he has missed this.

Callum gets his dick aligned with Ben’s - he isn’t sure when exactly Callum lost his own pants and underwear; it must’ve happened when Ben was too busy wading off his impending orgasm - bucking into him in a way that wretches a desperate moan from him.

It feels too good, them sliding against each other like this, with just enough friction to make it just as dirty and rough as he likes it. Blunt nails dig into the skin of Callum’s back when he trails his mouth down Ben’s neck and onto that one particular spot that never fails to make his knees weak.

“Are you close?”

The words are groaned right into his ear, wet breath hitting his skin and making him shudder. There’s an edge to Callum’s voice that tells Ben he’s close himself, their hips meeting in quicker, more desperate, thrusts now.

“Yes, fuck, almost there.”

Ben arches his back more, twisting and changing the angle until he’s seeing stars whenever they glide together. He presses his legs closer to Callum’s body, trapping him in-between his thighs, gripping every bit of skin his hands can reach.

Callum is making these familiar, low-pitched noises in his ear where he’s pressed against his neck and they run straight to his dick, delivering that last bit that gets him to finally tip over the edge.

They must get there almost at the same time because when Ben comes back down to earth again, Callum is spent and panting in his arms; his chest rising and falling rapidly. Ben runs one of his hands back up into Callum’s hair, raking his nails over Callum’s scalp, getting a satisfied murmur in response to the gesture.

“Missed you, baby.”

Ben’s voice is quiet in the overall silence of their home, like the words are a precious secret only to be shared in the confined space between their bodies. Callum’s hand finds Ben’s free one on the couch, tangling and knotting their fingers together. He presses a kiss onto the skin underneath him and from above him, Ben sees that his eyes are firmly shut.

“Missed you more.”

“Not even possible.”

Ben presses a kiss into his hair, soaking up the feeling of having his husband back in his arms. They’ll have to get up in a minute, go for a shower and maybe order some food in, enjoy the rare evening they can spend with just one another. But for now he’s content in lying here, skin on skin and heartbeats aligned.

Time can run on without them for a while. Everything else around them can wait.

On his wrist, the minutes tick by undisturbed.

#ballum #ballum fic #my writing #back by very much unpopular demand hi #testing the waters with this #sorry it took so long cally #calsangel

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smokeybrandreviews · 4 years ago

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Smokey brand Retrospective: The Gift and the Curse

Brendan Fraser has seen a resurgence lately and i love every bit of that. Dude has been one of my favorite actors for decades. I’m an Eighties kid who grew up during the Nineties so i was right there when he came onto the scene. I was a massive fan f all of his early work; Bedazzled, George of the Jungle, Encino Man, Airheads, Blast from the Past, and even Monkeybone. Dude hit his stride right around the Aughts and then completely disappeared. We found out later it was because of some really f*cked up sh*t but he made it through and proved he still had with Robot Man on Doom Patrol. I’m so glad this guy got another shot at this movie star sh*t but i wanted to revisit the franchise that put him on the map: The Mummy.

The Mummy

I love this campy ass flick, man. I saw this one in the theaters because, at the time, i was super into CG. It had only been a few years since Jurassic Park blew that sh*t out the water and only a few months after The Matrix made everyone sh*t the bed. The Mummy just missed that window but it was still incredibly enjoyable. This was my Indiana Jones because i didn’t care about Indy for a long time. It’s not that they were bad movies, i was just too young to appreciate them. The Mummy came out right at the time i started to really understand why i liked cinema, what a good permanence truly was, and how beautiful a film could be. The Mummy covered almost all of those bases. Fraser did an excellent job as Rick O’Connor and Rachel Weisz stunned as Evelyn Carnahan. F*cking Evie, man. I was already a fan of Fraser but this movie made me really pay attention to Weisz and she became one of my favorite actresses. It helps tremendously that she is f*cking gorgeous! Rounding out the cast is John Hannah as Evie’s brother, Johnathan and Arnold Vosloo as the titular mummy, Imhotep. Also, i can’t not mention the scummiest of scumbags, Benny, portrayed so effortlessly by Kevin J. O'Connor.

I absolutely adore this film. It’s a not the best example of Nineties cinema, how can it be, and it’s a terrible remake of the original Universal Mummy but it does what it wants to do very well. I love the ideas and the world they built with this campy clusterf*ck. It shouldn’t work, it should be terrible, but it’s one of the funnest films i have ever seen. It has it’s issues, absolutely, but they are minor compared the non-stop action, the incredible cinematography, the dated but ambitious CG effects ,and solid performances from every principal actor. They really let Fraser do his thing and that energy carried over to the rest of the cast. Evie is every bit the bad ass as Sarah Connor or Ellen Ripley but is still a very girly-girl; Something that seems to be frowned upon nowadays. Imhotep id an unrelenting, vicious antagonist who controls powers from long ago, literally willing the seven plagues of Egypt into modern times. This movie is all over the f*cking place but it worse so well and every time i see it, i have as much fun as i did way back when i was a ripened fourteen years old.

The Mummy Returns

Boy, this one suffers terrible from Sequelitis. It does nothing new and is an almost exact retread of the first film but we have new characters and a new villain in the guise of... The Scorpion King! Yes, this is the first film that titular Arachno-Monarch makes his first appearance portrayed by a very young, very beefy, and later, very poorly rendered, Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson! That’s right, long before he was Franchise Viagra, way before he was punching out Dom into a stalemate in them god awful Fast flicks, The Rock got his start here, in the sequel to The Mummy and he’s f*cking terrible! Oh my god, is he bad but it works. His awful, awful, performance fits right in with the utter camp of this ridiculous franchise ans, to no one’s surprise, i loved every second of it. Now, as much as i love The Rock in this thing, i have to absolutely give it to Patricia Velasquez as Meela Nais, the physical reincarnation of Imhotep’s regicide partner and f*ck-buddy, Anck-Su-Namun. I didn’t talk about her much in the entry about The Mummy but that as mostly because she was more a plot device rather than a character. She isn’t much else in this one either but at least we got to actually see her for more than ten minutes. Plus, that fight between her and Nefertiri was f*cking glorious. Sixteen year old Smokey appreciated the f*ck out of that.

The returning cast hits their points perfectly. That chemistry never falters. Fraser, Weisz, and Hannah are exceptional together and Vosloo is, somehow, both far more menacing and hilarious at the same time. There’s this scene toward the end where he is utterly defeated and it’s the funniest sh*t i have ever seen. I also really enjoy both Oded Fehr as Ardeth Bay far more in this one than the last because he gets to do sh*t finally. Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje was also a welcome surprise as the muscle, Lock-Nah. Dude just kinds of stands around and i think he gets into a fight with Fehr that was pretty cool but a little trite. Obviously, as a film from the early Aughts, it has it;s problems. There’s a ton of culturally insensitive sh*t that Zoomers would probably be upset about but, you know, f*ck em. It’s like a sense f humor is illegal nowadays. That said, having Rachel Weisz, as gorgeous and half-naked as she is and was, portray an Egyptian is a little much nowadays. At least Patricia Velasquez is a type of Brown? An attempt was made. This thing is a mess and i enjoy every second of it. The Mummy Returns is substantially worse that the first but, at the same time, just so batsh*t that it is equally as entertaining. But f*ck that kid, though. Every time he’s onscreen all of the good times are thrown right out the goddamn window!

The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor

I gave this one the hard pass for years. It looked like trash. Like straight up dog sh*t. This thing came out seven years after Returns and i just didn’t care. I was one hundred percent in my hipster film snob era and couldn’t be bothered. For a full f*cking decade and some change. Seriously, i just watched this thing the day before yesterday. For the first time. It was the inspiration for this retrospective because, after seeing this train wreck, i went back to check out the first two just to get the taste of dogsh*t out of my mouth. There are several changes made to the formula that immediately take me out of this film. First, and most egregiously, no more Rachel Weisz! She didn’t come back for the third. The reason behind her absence has run the gambit from vanity, to scheduling conflicts, to literally never getting a script. I don;t really care why, all i know is that her absence was felt. Maria Bello did her best but she isn’t MY Evie. Another “choice” was to age up that awful f*cking kid into an awful f*cking adult. That’s right, this is a “passing of the torch flick” and Luke Ford’s Alex O'Connell was supposed to take over the franchise going forward. That didn’t happen because this is Rick’s franchise. The Mummy would be nothing without Fraser and the at was proven when this thing tanked. It wasn’t all bad though. I really liked the new mummy, Han. They did some really fin things with his abilities and Jet Li never once phoned in an action scene. Unfortunately, even with the strength of the brand and outstanding lead performances, this thing still sucks.

I had a time with Tomb but it wasn’t like the time i had with it’s predecessors. I don’t know if it’s because I'm so much older and hardened by life but all i see is the flaws in this one. It doesn’t have the nostalgia goggles like the first two so i can’t enjoy it like i enjoy those. I just see plot holes instead of camp. Bad CG instead of rustic attempt. Poor set pieces instead of Nineties jank. Bad character writing instead of unfortunately hilarious dialogue. Tomb isn’t terrible but it ain’t good wither. It;s mediocre and i know the first two aren’t great but they’re better than whatever this wanted to be. It’s weird to see because there are a lot of great ideas here. I can see the vision that lays outside the margins and it’s frustrating. Fraser does is in his element as Rick and Li’s Han is a physical powerhouse but that’s not enough. As awesome as this movie gets when those two are on screen, literally everything around them is dismissible and i don’t understand how or why. I think a lot of the chemistry was lost when the focus was shifted to Alex from Rick and the recasting of Eve really didn’t do this film any favors. However, even with all of my frustrations, i can’t say i had a terrible time with this thing. It was entertaining, if a little bogus.

#The Mummy #The Mummy Returns #The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emporer #Brendan Fraser #Rachel Weisz #Smokey brand Retrospective

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chelsfic · 5 years ago

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Five Times Nandor Tried and Failed to Make a New Vampire, and One Time He Succeeded - Guillermo x Nandor fic (one-shot)

WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Journey into Nandor’s past and discover the real reason he’s been so hesitant to turn Guillermo all these years...

A/N: I hope you enjoy this small offering!! If you like and comment that would make me a very happy little writer creature.

Warnings: Crack, Fluff, Smut, mentions of concubines in Nandor’s human past, Blood drinking...obviously

---

“Truth be told, I’m not feeling my usual plucky, intrepid self.”

Nandor bares his fangs in a nervous smile. He’s sitting stiffly on the chaise in his crypt, fiddling with his rings as the documentary people question him about tonight’s...big event.

The vampire lifts his eyes to the ceiling and exhales before continuing, “It’s just--and I don’t like talking about this, but Guillermo says I need to work on expressing my...feelings--it’s just that in the past I might not always have been... entirely successful in making new vampires.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence during which Nandor casually picks at some lint on his sleeve.

“I mean, there was my nineteenth wife…”

---

Andrakis

Nandor languished in the empty halls of his palace for a week after his thirty-seven wives left. But at a certain point there comes a time to stop moping and start acting. Plus he’d eaten all of the servants and he was a little alarmed by the crowd of peasants outside armed with pitchforks and torches.

So, his new vampiric form was a little problematic. He was now homeless, wifeless and--worst of all--horseless. Driven from his land, Nandor was forced to take refuge from the lethal light of day in whatever haphazard way he could. He snuck into wine cellars. He broke into catacombs. And, most shamefully, he even buried himself in the earth when no other shelter was available. But at least his new state gave him the means to solve one of his problems.

There was no reason that Nandor should have to walk the night alone. He thought he remembered enough of what transpired on the battlefield to be able to turn someone else into a vampire. And as soon as the thought occurred to him he knew there was only one person with whom he wished to share this cursed gift.

Andrakis . His favorite wife. She was sweet and young, with a magnificent ample backside that Nandor loved to squeeze and slap. She had not yet bore him any children but perhaps that was for the best. No messy loose ends for her to leave behind. He knew she would agree for she, alone among his wives, had wept sorrowfully as they rode away.

Nandor used his new vampiric senses to find her. It took months, but eventually he tracked her back to her family home along the Euphrates. He walked through lands scorched and ruined by his own army and he thought about the first time he laid eyes on Andrakis. As he recalled, the town was on fire and his men were pillaging the wealthy houses for gold and jewels. They were also rounding up the attractive, young citizens for...reasons. Nandor took one look at his sweet Andrakis and said, “No! That one is for me and me only!”

So romantic.

He could have kept her as his concubine, but Nandor was infatuated with her sweet, soft spoken ways and her delicious round thighs. He gave her jewels and furs and when he finally returned from the campaign he made her one of his wives. All Nandor’s wives loved him, of course, because if they didn’t he would have their heads chopped off. But it was different with Andrakis. She seemed to truly care. She fretted when he went into battle, insisting that she be the one to help him don his armor. She cried real tears and begged him to be safe and return to her. It really moved him. Also, again, she had a fantastic ass.

The night he, at last, found her, Nandor floated up to her window, scratching at the wooden shutters and calling to her softly.

“My sweet Andrakis! It is I, your husband, Nandor the Relentless! I’ve come to assert my claim on you, cherished one! Do you...want to, maybe, come to the window now and let me inside?”

With his heightened abilities, he could hear her soft gasp and the rustle of fabric as she pushed back her bed coverings and slowly approached the window. Nandor heard her heart racing, the thundering gush of blood flowing through her veins and her trembling breath. He opened his mouth and his eyes rolled back with pleasure as he caught the smell of her blood just on the other side of those thin planks of wood.

“Time to open up, sweet one!” Nandor singsonged, placing his hand on the shutter as if he could reach through and grab her.

“Is it really you, my husband?” Her voice was as soft and sweet as he remembered.

“It is really, really me, Andrakis!”

She unlatched the window and Nandor beamed at the sight of her pretty, round face. That may have been a mistake--he kept forgetting about the fangs--the poor woman took a quick step back and brought her hands to her chest in shock.

“Oh, my Nandi! What has happened to you?” her eyes widened and she took a cautious step toward the window, peeking out over the sill, “You are flying, dear one!”

“Isn’t it great?!” Nandor laughed, kicking his legs out merrily and doing a little twirl. “I thought you might want to join me. You know...with the flying and the eternal life and the--ehm--blood drinking.”

She started to shake her head before he even finished and Nandor’s smile faltered. He rushed back to the window sill and placed his hands there, just on the outside edge of the invisible barrier protecting the home’s occupants.

“Andrakis...I am so lonely. And...and there is no one to help me with my armor or give me a massage when my head hurts. I think you liked being my wife, didn’t you?”

The woman’s eyes flood with tears and she comes even closer, leaning onto the window sill and reaching out a shaking hand to press against his bearded cheek.

“I love you, Nandi! And I am honored to be your wife, always. I will not take another husband, but… Nandor, I am frightened!”

“My honey,” Nandor crooned, laying his forehead against hers as she leaned out the window, “There is nothing to fear. I will protect you forever if you will stay by side.”

---

“...and then I ate her.”

Nandor held his hands out and shrugged his shoulders, “What are you going to do? These things happen, right? No! I was very upset about it for the next eighty years or so. She trusted me to take care of her and I fucking ate her!”

Nandor stares into space for a long moment. He’s had eight centuries to get over the loss of his favorite wife so it’s not grief that shows on his pinched face. It looks more like apprehension and self-doubt. The crew asks a muffled question and he starts as if they’ve woken him from a daydream.

“No...no I do not think I would ever recover if I were to lose control with my Guillermo,” his hands clench into fists on his knees. “I will not lose control.”

There’s more silence and one of the crew members suggests cutting the interview when Nandor continues as if he hasn’t heard them, “Guillermo is strong. He’s a cool, vampire killer guy now. He will be alright. He...he has to be alright.”

---

“Nadja?” Nandor stands at the threshold to her and Laszlo’s crypt, anxiously plucking his fingers in the air. “May I speak with you about something in private? In the fancy room?”

Nadja is braiding her dolly’s hair. There’s something really creepy about that thing that Nandor can’t quite put his finger on. Like it’s always watching him. Yeesh . Nadja rolls her eyes and snaps, “Can’t we talk in here? I’m going to tell Laszlo whatever pig-brained scheme you’re wanting to talk about anyway…”

Nandor glances at Laszlo, hunched over and diddling the keys of his organ with a shit-eating grin, “That’s true, old chap. There are no secrets between me and my sweet mamtam…”

Laszlo winks smarmily and Nandor rolls his eyes, “Please, Nadja! It is just a formality!”

She shrieks in aggravation, accidentally yanking the doll’s hair and then cooing apologetically at the thing. Nandor grimaces uncomfortably.

“Fine, you stupid ostrich. But this better be quick!”

Once he’s properly secured the curtain and made sure to check for eavesdroppers, Nandor lays it out for Nadja. He speaks haltingly and without meeting her eyes.

“So...you see, now that Guillermo and I are...are...more than master and familiar, I am wanting to make him a vampire. But you may have noticed that my past attempts in this area have been a little shaky…”

“Shaky! I think you mean totally fucked up the rotten asshole! Don’t forget you told me all about Babsy the Brainscrambled!”

---

Babaius

Babaius was a little guy he met a couple hundred years after the whole thing with Andrakis. He was a Wallachian painter’s apprentice and he had agreed to do a gratis portrait of Nandor for the practice. The portrait was flat and middling, but what did you want? It was the 16th century and the cool Renaissance shit hadn’t exactly reached the backwoods of Eastern Europe quite yet. More important was the fact that this cute painter guy had managed to ingratiate himself with the apex predator he had unwittingly invited into his home.

Originally, Nandor’s plan was to kill him once the portrait was complete. But the longer he sat there, staring back at the man as he worked with that cute little half-smirk on his face, the longer Nandor had to appreciate his form. Babaius was not as curvy and sensuous as Andrakis. He was taller and leaner. But his lips were pleasantly plump and his fingers long and elegant. Again, Nandor felt the weight of eternal loneliness and he began to wonder.

This time he made sure to feed beforehand. When he arrived at the human’s rooms he found him looking more excited than Nandor had ever seen him.

“It’s complete!” he gushed, grabbing Nandor’s hand and pulling him over to the easel. “Come see!”

Nandor stared at the clumsy, dour-faced rendering of himself and smiled politely. Is this really what I look like? Why is my head so small?

He felt the weight of Babaius’s hopeful eyes on him and schooled his voice into false praise, “Wow! It’s...so...wow! You sure used a lot of...orange on my face, didn’t you? Bold choice…”

“I’m so pleased that you like it, Nandor,” the human’s voice was slightly breathless and he looked up through his lashes coquettishly. Ah ha!

“Yes, well, now that that’s done…” Nandor swept Babaius’s long hair off his shoulder and plucked at the collar of his thin shirt. “Perhaps we could discuss other things…”

“ Oh, yes! ” Babaius trilled, launching himself into Nandor’s arms and frantically dropping kisses on his neck, chin and jaw. “I thought ...but I wasn’t certain… but yes, Nandor! Yes!”

Nandor wrapped his arms around the man’s back and laughed a little at just how easy this was going to be. No mistakes this time. He was completely and totally in control.

---

“Alright, Najda! I get it! I know you have to give them more than just one drop of blood now, okay?”

Nadja nods somberly, “That poor man. Could not even remember his own name after you turned him. What happened to him again?”

“I ripped off his head,” Nandor snaps, sinking into the couch cushions in a sulk. “It was the humane thing to do.”

Nadja squints her eyes trying to remember something, “But wasn’t there someone else after…?”

Nandor’s lips thin into a narrow line and he crosses his arms over his chest with a huff of annoyance, “I suppose you mean Aggy the Shrieker?”

---

Agnes

Agnes was something called a Quaker, which meant that she did not go about wearing a crucifix. She was also highly susceptible to hypnosis. Nandor didn’t think this had anything to do with her Quaking, it was just a nice bonus. She’d served him well for a number of years, procuring a very fine assortment of virgins for him night after night. The good lady was entirely ignorant to the fact that it was she who drew these young innocents to their doom. Nandor erased her memories each time before sending her away. She would hem and cluck along with the other Friends when news of a disappearance reached her ears.

After a few decades, Nandor noticed that her face was starting to turn wrinkly and her movements were not as swift as they once were. The prospect of finding another familiar with a brain as soft and accepting as Agnes’s was a wearying thought. Enough so that he considered, once again, trying his hand at creating a new vampire.

This time it was a sure thing. Agnes appeared at his doorstep that night, like always. At her side was a fresh-faced boy whose blood positively shouted his innocence. Delicious . Nandor would feed first. Then he would just do a quick refresher of Agnes’s hypnosis so that the poor lady did not have a fright once she saw Nandor’s blood stained face. And then a quick nip and plenty of blood. Voila! A new wrinkly-faced vampire baby is born.

The plan was faultless.

---

“And no hypnosis! Alright. Seems nit-picky, but fine!” Nandor grumbles. He seems suddenly to remember that Nadja is helping him and his voice softens, “ Please, Nadja . No more walking on memory street. Just tell me what to do so that I do not hurt Guillermo. I cannot stand the thought of him becoming a shrieker .”

“Nandor, you beautiful giant baby,” Nadja’s face gentles into genuine sympathy. “I’m going to tell you just what to do. Even you won’t be able to mess this up.”

And she does. She tells him how to listen to his human’s heart and count the seconds in between beats, waiting until just the right moment to finish drinking. She advises him to prepare his blood ahead of time, decanting it into a vial or mug. He should not count on Guillermo being conscious enough to suckle from his wrist as he’d originally intended. Pour the blood down his throat if he has to. Once he drinks the blood the transition will begin, but Nandor’s work is not done. He must procure for his new vampire the most succulent of virgin feasts. He must care for him during the sickness. He must watch over him and make sure that the baby vampire does not do anything silly like run out into the sunlight or drink a gallon of holy water.

“You must be resolved and sure in your actions!” Nadja finally says, casting a skeptical glance at the immortal warrior. “You think you can handle all that?”

Nandor sits there looking shell shocked for a moment before twitching his mouth into a forced smile and holding up two thumbs.

“OK-A!”

---

On his way back to his crypt Nandor glances into the camera and leans in conspiratorially.

“She does not even know about Roger the Rocker or Benjy…” he whispers, his lips folding into an embarrassed frown.

---

Roger

During the 1970s Nandor went through a brief but intense love affair with punk rock. Disco would soon supplant the vampire’s fixation on studded leather and the Sex Pistols, but for a few fleeting years he was, truly, insufferable.

“ Fucking goats’ balls ! Nandor! We are trying to have a blood feast in here! Will you turn off that unholy screeching!?” Nadja shouted, blood dripping down her chin as she drew back from the pathetically mewling woman sandwiched between herself and her husband.

Laszlo reared back with a lecherous grin on his bloody lips, “Did I hear you mention something about unholy screeching, my sweet dimplebottom?”

“ Oh, Laszlo! ” Nadja giggled, leaning over the dying victim to latch onto her lover’s mouth.

Nandor slammed the door to his crypt and rolled his eyes, “Don’t mind them, Roger. They’re just a couple of sell-out perverts who don’t understand ay-narchy and non-conformationism.”

Roger was a young human man with spiked green hair and a studded leather vest. He was the coolest familiar Nandor had ever had. He was also an alcoholic and a heavy drug user and half the time he didn’t even do what Nandor asked of him. But once he explained about “the man” and toppling “the system”...well, Nandor still didn’t get it but he was impressed! He felt that Roger would bring a certain rebellious youth to their cohort that might give them a cutting edge in these modern times.

The problem was that Nandor had never tried drug blood before. It didn’t hit him until Roger was half-drained but then the world spun off its axis. Nandor ripped his face away from Roger’s savaged neck, stumbling backward and falling down hard on his ass. The vampire exploded into a fit of giggles as the familiar twitched limply on the floor beside him.

“Roger! I am ball tripping!” Nandor laughed, turning his head to look at his friend, “Whoopsie! Almost forgot! Time for a little drinky, Roger…”

Nandor tore into his own wrist, ripping a jagged wound open with his fangs and smearing the gore over Roger’s lips and chin.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Nandor cackled, falling back down and letting his wrist fall limp against the human’s mouth. He started singing softly under his breath, “Ayyyynarchy and the U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!”

In the end Nandor was so high he went to his slumber completely forgetting about the moaning, half-turned man on the floor of his crypt. He woke the next night to find Roger wandering around the front lawn, sun-burned and hideously deformed. He also had no memory of who Nandor was or anything at all about his human life.

Nandor wouldn’t see him again until decades later when he caught the skeevy creep trying to take a bite out of Guillermo at the Sassy Cat Club. Nandor was so spooked to see the evidence of his past failure standing next to his most cherished human companion that he...perhaps handled the incident in a less-than-totally-gallant manner.

---

Benjy

Benjy...to be honest, Nandor isn’t entirely sure what came of the old clunker. He turned him and dumped him. Maybe not his finest moment but...Nandor had other things on his mind at the time…

---

Guillermo

The moment that Guillermo flew to their rescue at the Nouveau Théâtre des Vampires, Nandor felt something shift inside his chest. It was an actual physical sensation like a key turning in a lock. How many years had he spent building moats, walls and fortresses between himself and his handsome, caring, devoted, achingly good familiar in order to protect his sweet innocence from the poison that was Nandor the Relentless? And all along he’d been underestimating him! Nandor watched Guillermo twirl, kick, punch and stake his way through a theater full of angry vampires. In the end he stood alone on a mountain of conquered enemies, covered in blood and heaving with the adrenaline of battle.

Nandor had never been more aroused.

He was silent and brooding on the drive home. He sat in the passenger seat and kept flicking his eyes in Guillermo’s direction, hoping to catch his gaze. But his ex-familiar kept his eyes fixed on the road, his face a storm cloud of some scary-looking emotion that Nandor couldn’t name. The vampire felt unease crawl up his spine. Was he planning to leave again as soon as he dropped them off at the house?

Nandor cringed in embarrassment as he watched the look of disappointment cross Guillermo’s features at the sight of the wrecked foyer. Dead bodies littered the floor, candle wax and blood stained every surface. He was overcome with shame and humiliation that they had made such a mess of the home Guillermo had toiled to maintain for eleven years.

Guillermo stood awkwardly in the front doorway, not quite inside and not quite outside, hovering on the threshold of their home. It was their home , wasn’t it? Nandor’s eyes flicked to the sad, dirty mattress in the cupboard beneath the stairs and he silently cursed himself. It’s possible he may not have made this quite a happy home for Guillermo.

“I’ll just...go now…” Guillermo’s voice was soft and uncertain again, as if he hadn’t just committed a bad ass massacre.

“No!” the word strangled from Nandor’s throat and he lurched forward, raising his hand to stop the human. For a split second he was completely unguarded and the raw desperation in his voice and on his face froze Guillermo in his tracks. Then Nandor’s eyes shifted to his fellow vampires, feeling the weight of their stares and he continued in a closer approximation to his usual haughty authority, “I would speak with you a moment. In private.”

Once the door to his crypt clicked shut Nandor rounded on Guillermo, taking him by the shoulders and pressing him into the heavy wooden door. He loomed over the human for a moment, fangs bared, breathing raggedly as he scented him. Guillermo’s intoxicating, virginal aroma was mixed with the tang of his enemies’ blood. The irresistible fragrance threatened to overcome the vampire and he let out a pitiful mewling cry as he pressed even closer. Nandor’s forehead thunked against the door and his body was flush with Guillermo’s. Now he would know . The hard, bulging evidence of Nandor’s arousal was pressed into the human’s soft thigh-- unmistakable . Nandor keened a sob and his body went boneless as he fell to his knees in supplication before the human.

“Guillermo, please!” Nandor sobbed.

Guillermo stood as if paralyzed, staring back at his former master with shocked, wide eyes. Nandor felt broken, like one of those colorful donkeys split open and pouring out his guts. He did not exactly know what it was he wanted. Everything about this moment was highly uncomfortable. For one thing, the floor was very hard and hurty on his knees. For another thing, his erection was straining painfully in his pants. Also, he was realizing for the first time in his long, long life that there existed a person whom Nandor loved more than himself. And he was desperately, mortally afraid that Guillermo would leave him again.

“What is it, master?” Guillermo flinched at the slip up but he pressed on, his eyes burning with earnest intensity. “What do you want?”

Nandor had known the answer to this question for eleven years. He knew it the first time he laid eyes on the sweet, plump mortal working the panini press at Panera Bread. He knew it the first time Guillermo graced him with his smile after Nandor showed him his fangs. He knew it when Guillermo came to live with them, hauling his rolly luggage case up the front steps and shaking with nerves and excitement. He knew it when he spent hours crafting his familiar’s sweet face from glitter. He knew it when Guillermo cried, silently begging Nandor to give him a reason to stay. He’d known it in a thousand different ways for a thousand different reasons and he’d keep knowing it for a thousand years, long after the flicker of Guillermo’s short human life extinguished.

“You,” Nandor’s voice was a broken whisper. “I want you, Guillermo.”

The air expelled from Guillermo’s lungs in a shaky gasp as he fell to his knees as well. He took the vampire’s face in his warm little hands and Nandor had to remind himself that those were hands capable of plunging a wooden stake through his heart. The very thought sent another wave of lust through him.

Guillermo’s lips trembled and his eyes flooded with tears as he spoke, “If you’re just saying that to manipulate me…”

Nandor grabbed Guillermo’s wrists, circling them with his long fingers, keeping him from removing his hands from Nandor’s face.

“No, Guillermo. I--I have not been a good master to you…” Nandor gulped, fighting years of careful control in order to get the words out. “I’ve lied to you many, many times. Made you think that you were just a servant to me. I thought that I was protecting us both. But...really I was hurting you. When you left me I...I…”

Nandor’s voice trailed off and Guillermo allowed it, not wanting to push his fragile vampire too far.

“If we’re going to do this, I need to know. I need to know what exactly you want from me, Nandor. Because I know what I want. I’ve known for eleven... fucking years,” Guillermo’s voice hardens toward the end and Nandor feels himself go weak. His little Guillermo...so forceful and strong!

Suddenly the human was leaning in and brushing his lips over Nandor’s. It was the barest, gentlest hint of a kiss but it felt like a live wire touching his skin. Nandor’s eyes drifted closed and he saw stars as Guillermo pushed his tongue between his lips and plundered his mouth. Oh, why had he forced them to wait so long for this?

Guillermo pulled back, the combination of his blushing cheeks and the splatter of blood along his jaw was a powerful image. Nandor whined, following Guillermo’s movement and pecking kisses to the man’s mouth.

“Nandor, wait! Stop!” There was mirth in Guillermo’s eyes but a fragile uncertainty as well. “I need you to tell me this is what you want. That I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and find you pretending this never happened. Things have to change if we’re...if we’re going to do this.”

Nandor nodded frantically, pawing at his human’s face as unmanly tears spilled from his eyes and rolled into the whiskers of his beard.

“Yes! Please! I want this. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re brave and strong and cool and beautiful and I lo--” Nandor’s mouth snapped shut and his dark eyes widened in fear at the words that almost slipped out. But when he took in his human’s guarded yet hopeful expression he growled and forced them out. “I love you, Guillermo.”

Guillermo choked on a sob and his face crumbled rather alarmingly.

“I love you so fucking much you stupid asshole,” he replied.

Nandor scowled, “Hey! There’s no need for all that!”

But before he could work himself up to being truly affronted, Guillermo launched himself at him, knocking Nandor over backwards and attacking his face with his mouth.

“Things are going to change,” Guillermo repeated between open-mouthed kisses along Nandor’s bearded jaw.

“Yes!”

“I’m not gonna dig graves for you anymore or polish your boots!”

“...Alright.”

“And,” Guillermo ripped open the fly of Nandor’s trousers, eliciting a delighted howl from the vampire, “you’re going to make me a vampire.”

---

“So tonight is the night!” Nandor injects false levity into his voice as he strides down the hallway carrying a stack of towels on one arm. The camera shakes as the crew follows behind him.

“I’ve made all of the arrangements! We have a juicy virgin in the cell…”

The camera peaks into a dimly lit closet where a young man is bound and gagged. Across his forehead giant block letters spell out: “DO NOT EAT! GUILLERMO’S VIRGIN FEAST!”

“I’ve decanted plenty of my blood…”

Nandor holds up a mason jar filled with thick, dark crimson liquid as he mounts the stairs.

“I’ve got the towels and Guillermo has a first aid box ready…”

He finally arrives at the door to the big, blue bedroom and turns around to face the camera with an apologetic smile.

“ Vampires only! ” He slams the door in their faces.

Once the door closes behind him Nandor lets out a long breath and his head falls back to hit the wood with a loud thunk. He lets the facade drop for just a second and the cloying anxiety and terror of what he is about to do rises to the surface. Then Guillermo looks up at him from where he’s sitting up on his big new bed and Nandor forces a cheery smile.

“Who’s ready for their unholy transformation?!” he warbles, shaking the jar of blood in his hand.

Guillermo grins, coming over to stand before him in all his warm, soft, human grandeur. Nandor drops his head and plucks at the sleeve of his ex-familiar’s thick, stripy sweater. He hopes that Guillermo will not think himself too cool to wear such garments once he is a vampire. He’s grown to love Guillermo’s simple human clothes.

“Nandor…” Guillermo takes the jar and the towels from him, setting them down on his bureau next to the collection of wooden stakes and crucifixes. “You don’t have to pretend. I’m scared too.”

The vampire lets out a breath and tugs his human into his chest, wrapping him in a fierce, suffocating hug. He lets his cheek rest on top of Guillermo’s dear head. Guillermo clings to the front of Nandor’s long tunic, pressing his face into the rich, embroidered fabric and wetting it with his tears.

“It’ll be okay,” Guillermo comforts Nandor, his voice trembling with emotion. In the short weeks since the incident at the theater and since their relationship took such a sharp turn in the right direction, Guillermo has been shocked and pleasantly surprised to find how dramatically the dynamic between them has changed. Guillermo isn’t just Nandor’s equal now. He’s his touchstone, his protector, and his deeply cherished lover.

“You don’t know that, Guillermo,” Nandor sniffles. “What if I brainscramble you like I did to Ba...Baba...Bambie?”

“Babaius?” Guillermo prompts, pulling back from the embrace enough to lock eyes with the weepy vampire. Nandor has told him his whole sorry history of failures and abominations. It was Guillermo’s idea for Nandor to seek out Nadja’s guidance. And though he’s nervous and frightened about his transition...there is no one else in the world from whom Guillermo would accept this gift. “You won’t scramble my brains, Nandor. I trust you.”

The soft cry that Nandor makes at those words cuts to Guillermo’s soul.

Nandor sniffs and attempts to pull himself back together. He speaks confidently, as if his words are an incantation that will somehow conjure success, “Well, of course you trust me, Guillermo. I’m a very strong, cool vampire. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to make another vampire when a freaky pervert like Nadja is doing it all over the place.”

Guillermo snorts and pulls Nandor in for another quick squeeze before drawing away toward the bed, “Should we…?”

“Yes...oh! Wait!” Nandor grabs the towels off the bureau, hissing when he accidentally grazes a crucifix with his hand. He hurries forward and starts laying them down on top of Guillermo’s thick comforter. “I don’t want your nice, new bed to get ruined.”

Guillermo smiles warmly as he watches his ex-master’s efforts.

“Well...it’s not like I’ll be sleeping on it anymore after tonight…” he murmurs, causing Nandor to think about the shiny new coffin sitting next to his downstairs.

Nandor shrugs, “No...but we might--you know--do other things on the bed still…”

He smooths his hands over the towels and retrieves the jaw of blood, placing it within easy reach on the nightstand before climbing onto the bed and stretching out in an unintentional come-hither pose. Nandor’s soft, long locks fall over his shoulders and his big, dark eyes look up at Guillermo with longing and terror. He pats the spot beside him on the bed.

Guillermo clambors up after him, stretching out at his side and letting his head fall into the mountain of pillows that Nandor had insisted on purchasing for him after their...reconciliation. He smiles shyly and looks up at the vampire, his cheeks turning bright red.

“Is it alright if we...do some of those ‘ other things ’ first?” he asks, dancing his fingers over Nandor’s tunic. “You know...my last time as a h-human?”

The stutter in Guillermo’s voice interrupts Nandor’s contented perusal of his human’s delicious body and he meets the man’s eyes. Guillermo’s cheeks are irresistibly red and his lips are parted slightly with lust. But his eyebrows are all crinkled and there are still some tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Nandor can’t really relate to Guillermo’s fear. When he was turned he was in the middle of dying on the field of battle. He didn’t have a clue what was happening when the strange vampire descended upon him. What would it feel like to go into it knowingly? To place his life in the hands of the one that he loved knowing there was a chance that things might go terribly wrong?

Guillermo is incredibly brave.

“Yes, my Guillermo,” Nandor cries, leaning in and pressing their mouths together in a desperate kiss. “Anything you want.”

They take their time with the kiss, lips and tongues sliding and probing as they clumsily undress each other. By the time they’re both naked the floor of Guillermo’s bedroom is littered with discarded items of clothing and the towels on the bed are askew. Guillermo throws his leg over Nandor’s thick waist and straddles the man, their aching erections rubbing together as he leans down to trail kisses across Nandor’s hairy chest.

Nandor throws his head back in the pillows, his hair tangling as he writhes underneath Guillermo. He will miss the feeling of his human’s impossible warmth. The way his kisses seem to sear a blazing path over Nandor’s cold skin. The way his silky smooth rod pulses with molten heat. The feeling of plunging inside Guillermo’s fiery, grasping tightness. Nandor curses himself, yet again, for not allowing them both to have this sooner.

Guillermo’s hips rise and fall as he strokes himself against Nandor. The air between them grows humid with their breath and the room fills with the sounds of whimpers and moans. Guillermo places a hand on Nandor’s chest for balance and he leans over to his nightstand to grab the small bottle of lube sitting there.

He holds it aloft and says, as if reading Nandor’s mind, “Do you want to feel me one last time before…?”

Nandor’s lips split into a grin and he grabs the tube from his human’s hand, nodding fervently as he drips the liquid onto his fingers. He’s careful and gentle with his Guillermo, mindful of how new this still is for him. He reaches between his delicious thighs and slides his wet fingers around until he finds what he’s looking for, pressing gently and then more firmly as Guillermo opens up for him.

Guillermo’s breath escapes him and he presses down on Nandor’s fingers with a wanton cry, riding him needily. Once he’s ready, Nandor pours out more liquid, slicking his cock and grasping Guillermo’s hips to move him into position.

“Are you ready, Guillermo?” he asks and the words take on an added meaning with the knowledge of what’s to come hovering in the air between them.

Guillermo senses Nandor’s seriousness in the moment and he meets his eyes, smiling softly before replying, “Yes, Nandor. I’m ready. Really .”

The sex is a revelation and a comfort. Falling into Guillermo is like coming home. It’s like finally finding the place he was always meant to be. Even 700 years ago when Nandor was a ruler in his prime, he never felt this level of peace and belonging. He watches his beautiful, strong, brave human fall apart on top of him. They take turns setting the pace. Guillermo bounces frantically in Nandor’s lap until the vampire grabs his hips and holds him still so he can thrust upward, slowly and tenderly. He penetrates deep until Guillermo is near tears and the human’s poor erection is leaking copiously onto Nandor’s soft belly.

Nandor finally releases his hold on Guillermo’s hips and wraps his hand around his erection, pumping up and down quickly as he bounces the man on his own cock.

“I’m close, Guillermo,” he whispers, stroking the human rapidly to edge him along. “Come with me. Please!”

They fall over the precipice together, panting and clinging as their bodies quake with the intensity of their love making. Guillermo collapses on Nandor’s chest and the vampire wraps his arms around him automatically, soothingly running his palms down his lover’s sweaty back as he twitches and catches his breath.

“You’re getting very good at that, Guillermo,” Nandor murmurs with a hint of teasing in his voice.

Guillermo snorts, “Yeah, I think you’ve almost got the hang of it, too, Nandor.”

Nandor laughs and smacks his behind playfully, “Do not be thinking that just because you’re going to be a vampire you can start being so cheeky with me! I’m still seven hundred and twenty-eight years older than you, mortal.”

Guillermo grins and hums in response, pillowing his head into Nandor’s broad chest with a contented sigh.

After a little while, Nandor shifts Guillermo off of him and lays him down on the bed with a gentle reverence. He picks up one of the towels and uses it to carefully clean him, dabbing between his legs and swiping over his soft stomach. Nandor takes his time, his face turning dark and serious as he contemplates what comes next.

When he’s finally finished he says, almost shyly, “There’s just one more thing I want to do first…”

Nandor stretches out at Guillermo’s side and rests his head over the human’s chest, directly over his beating heart. His hair fans out over Guillermo’s flushed skin and the human brings his fingers up to toy with it as Nandor listens.

Thump...thump...thump…

How many nights has Nandor awoken in his coffin, still gripped by the horror of a half-remembered nightmare and listened for that comforting sound to lull him back to sleep? How often has he heard that steady rhythm interrupted when Nandor did something that particularly stirred his familiar’s illicit attraction? How many thousands of beats has he taken for granted over the years? Soon that steady tattoo will cease forever. Nandor feels panic grip him but he reminds himself that things will be different this time. Guillermo will come back to him as he always does.

He does not feel ready but the hours are ticking away and he’d like to finish this well before dawn. Nandor shuffles up the bed, leaning on an elbow and letting his hair cascade down around Guillermo’s face. He brushes his thumb over his lips, caresses his jaw line and the ridge of his brow. He’s memorizing the way his beloved looks right now, flushed with life.

“Guillermo, I want you to know that even if I do scramble your brains--which I won’t!--but even if I do, I will take care of you forever,” Nandor says, his eyes wide and earnest. “I’ll never abandon you or rip off your head. That’s a promise.”

Guillermo should scoff or snort or roll his eyes but instead he sobs and beams up at Nandor as he answers, “I know, baby. I’ll never leave you or rip off your head either. I promise.”

Nandor nods and his dark eyes shift to focus on the crook of Guillermo’s neck. His skin is still slicked with the cooling sweat of their coupling and Nandor can see his pulse jumping in his throat. He opens his mouth in a hungry leer and his fangs elongate slightly.

“This will hurt, Guillermo,” his voice is dark and menacing, but also mournful. “I am sorry.”

He snakes a hand behind Guillermo’s neck and cradles his head to the side as he lowers his mouth to his vulnerable throat. He hovers there for a moment and marvels at the way his lover’s body surrenders so sweetly to him. Guillermo is soft and loose in his arms, the perfect victim. Nandor banishes that word from his mind. Guillermo, sweet, sensitive, competent, strong, scary, loving, powerful Guillermo. He is not a victim. He plunges his fangs into his human’s soft neck and takes from him the sweetest gift Guillermo has ever given.

Nandor’s terror and anxiety melt away as the blood pours over his tongue and down his throat. He has always known that Guillermo would taste delicious but this is ridiculous. He tastes like the joy of riding John over an open plain, he tastes like the excitement of watching the Dream Team do battle on the basketball court, and, most of all, he tastes like Guillermo. Like fuzzy knit hats and secret smiles and quiet evenings playing chess. Like longing and hunger and wistful pain. Like strength and desire and the thrill of conquest. Nandor drinks deeply, memorizing the flavor as his lover goes more and more limp in his arms.

He listens, once more, to the beating of that heart, just as Nadja said to do. He waits like Guillermo used to do, listening to the pops while he was making his corn kernel snack in the multiwave machine. Once the rhythm begins to slow Nandor pulls back, licking his lips and scrambling for the jar of blood on the nightstand.

He gathers Guillermo into his arms and the human moans low in his throat. Nandor feels unadulterated joy at the sound. He is still here . But when he looks down at his human’s pale, ashen face, a sob tears free from his throat. His lustrous, brilliant Guillermo diminished to such a drab reflection… Nandor mentally slaps himself and unscrews the jar, bringing it to Guillermo’s pale lips.

“Time for your snack now, Guillermo,” Nandor’s voice shakes. He strokes his fingers through the human’s curly hair as he lifts his head and begins to tip the contents of the jar into his open mouth.

Nothing happens for a small eternity. Nandor watches the blood pool in his lover’s mouth and spill out the sides of his lips with a feeling of increasing helplessness.

“Guillermo? Can you still hear me? It’s time to start drinking so you can become a cool vampire just like me and your friend, Armand…”

Guillermo’s eyes are closed and his body is unnaturally still.

“Please drink, Guillermo! I’m going to be very cross with you if you do not!”

His skin looks waxy and he feels heavier in Nandor’s arms. The vampire tugs him further into his lap and clutches him to his chest, tears falling onto the eerily calm face.

“Guillermo, you said you wouldn’t leave me again, please! ”

Guillermo swallows. Nandor watches with a giant, goofy grin on his face as the man’s throat bobs and the blood disappears from his mouth. He brings the jar back up to his lips and continues to hand feed him, taking comfort in the way Guillermo’s lips purse as he drinks down the vampire’s life-giving blood.

“That’s it, my cherished one,” Nandor says, slipping into endearments he used several lifetimes ago. “Drink, sweet honey. And don’t ever fucking scare me like that again !”

Guillermo snorts as he drains the dredges from the jar, blood bubbles forming on his lips as they curve into a smile. Nandor watches, his eyes wide and wondering, as Guillermo’s eyes flutter open and he feels a sense of intense relief when he recognizes that smile as the same one he fell in love with eleven years ago. Only...you know...with the fangs and the blood stains…

---

“So, I’d say it was a marked success!” Nandor shouts into the camera a few nights later. “Of course, there was a lot of vomiting and achy-pains in the beginning...but once that passed and he drank some human blood everything was OK-A! Isn’t that right, Guillermo?”

The camera zooms out to include Guillermo in the shot. He’s sitting next to Nandor on the chaise, their hands clasped together between them. His skin tone is very much the same although without the lively blush that used to grace his cheeks. He’s noticeably in tact, no pointed ears or deformities and seemingly in full possession of his brains.

He smiles and the camera zooms in on his newly minted fangs.

“ A-OK , Nandor,” he corrects in an affectionate tone. He leans over and kisses the immortal warrior on the cheek.

Nandor, still unused to public displays of affection, smiles nervously and answers with a roll of his eyes, “As I said, Guillermo!”

#nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandermo #nandor x guillermo fanfic #wwdits #wwdits fanfic #smut

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