Kind of always low-key irritated by the fact that third world as a term has now been so divorced from it’s original political context and basically been used by the west as a ranking/income system when it originated in the cold war as a way of describing postcolonial countries who refused to align themselves with the capitalist first world and the communist second world by being a third way out aka the anti imperialist non-alignment movement
“I marked her but now Theo is all over her and I’m not even sure if she understands what the mark means.” Stiles ranted to Lydia.
“Stiles eyes.” She sighed and glanced over to where you and Theo were sat studying.
“Thanks… I’m just saying we’re moving back to Beacon Hills which means even more competition and what if someone bites her and remarks her?” Stiles sighed as the bus finally came to a stop and he was met with the sight of his Dad leaning against the Jeep.
My first attempt at ACOTAR fanfic - I decided to start with Nessian.
She didn’t feel like celebrating. Yes, the war was over. Yes, they all survived. But she didn’t feel like she had won anything. She watched as thousands died. She watched her father die. She watched Elain, her delicate sister, slaughter the King of Hybern. And they were both still irrevocably changed in body and soul, both with powers neither one of them knew how to handle or begin to understand.
Nesta didn’t know what was next for her. She couldn’t go back home, not since she was no longer human. She especially wouldn’t leave without her sister and it was clear Elain was in no condition to go back to the human realm. Nesta didn’t know how to help her, either. She didn’t know how to help herself. She hadn’t felt this untethered since the incident with Tomas Mandry. That had taken it’s tole on her life, and changed her in ways she never expected. Just letting his name cross her mind enhanced her current state of being unsettled. Rising from the chair in her room she rubbed her hands up and down her arms to try to warm herself and get rid of the unpleasant thoughts.
The house was quiet today. Everyone else has been happy, resettling into their lives and finding joy in each other and in the new world they were creating. Nesta was stuck. She had nothing to accomplish, nothing to attain, nothing to contribute. She had barely left her room since returning from the war a month ago, only leaving to grab something to eat when hunger drove her out. She didn’t even visit Elain anymore, frustrated and desolate because she wasn’t able to help her in any way. She rarely ran into anyone during her trips to the kitchen, and when she did she always felt like a black cloud raining on their happiness. They stopped talking and laughing when she appeared, and even Feyre no longer attempted to include her in their gatherings. She was the ghost in the attic, residing in the house but always kept at arms length when seen.
She didn’t blame them. She didn’t know how to help herself, so how would they have any idea what to do for her? She never did ask Feyre how she handled being turned into High Fae, or having powers she never experienced before. While Nesta was still human she didn’t care about all that; she was only focused on protecting Elain. Feyre had obviously managed the transition and was thriving when she visited them before the war. And it wasn’t like she was forced against her will to be changed - she was dying, and it was done to save her, so of course Feyre would have come out of her transition grateful for the second chance at life. That was nothing like Nesta’s transition.
Making her way to the kitchen, Nesta couldn’t shake all the dark memories from her recent and far past. She almost couldn’t distinguish the difference between the two anymore, all blending together seamlessly as if she had never known a happy or comfortable period in her life. She thought what Tomas had done would be the most damaging experience she’d ever face and working through that to get back a semblance of a life with Elain almost destroyed her. Everyone thought her strong, but only she knew the truth; the walls she kept around herself felt brittle now, like they would shatter if she ever lost her vigilance at keeping them strong, and she didn’t know how much longer she would have the strength to hold them up. Going through these changes and feeling this darkness writhing inside herself - she knew it was only a matter of time before it overwhelmed and consumed her, destroying her completely.
Startled, she whirled around in the kitchen and saw Cassian standing in the doorway. How long had she been standing there lost in her thoughts? Rubbing her arms, she refused to look him in the eyes.
“Are you cold?” The concern in his voice almost broke her. She can’t let that happen, not now, not today.
“No, I just came to find something to eat,” she snapped at him, still refusing to meet his gaze.
Stepping into the kitchen he moved towards the cupboards. “Everyone has gone out in the city so there isn’t a dinner prepared here tonight. But I can make us something edible, I’m sure.”
“You cook?” Nesta blurted out, the question springing out of her, surprised that a male warrior would stoop to anything so domestic as cooking in a kitchen.
Chuckling, he glanced over his shoulder at her and winked. “I’ve been known to surprise my friends with my skills.”
Feeling awkward, Nesta stood in the middle of the kitchen while Cassian arranged pots and pans on the stove and piled ingredients on the counter. Removing a couple of knives from a drawer he said without looking her way, “Why don’t you help me chop these vegetables?”
He continued to gather ingredients, occasionally throwing something into a pot or pan. After a couple of minutes when she didn’t move to help him, he mumbled, “Or not,” and started chopping. Irritated with him, she marched over to the counter and grabbed one of the knives and a pepper. She started slicing it along it’s length and soon had a mess of pepper bits, seeds and pulp all over the counter.
“Happy now?” She snarled at him, throwing the knife in the sink.
“Yes, thank you.” He had a strained look on his face and his lips were twitching, but he didn’t say anything more, just scooped up her chopped vegetable and tossed it into the pot. He continued adding ingredients and stirring the food, humming to himself as he worked. She watched him, fascinated at a male cooking, let alone the General Commander of the Night Court. He had left his hair down today and when it brushed against his chin he would tuck it back behind his ear. He seemed to be comfortable in the kitchen, graceful even, and she marveled that for all his battle knowledge and warrior training he didn’t look out of place cooking them dinner.
Glancing her way he asked, “Will you get the plates and silverware ready?”
Glaring at him, afraid he had caught her staring, she stated, “I plan on eating in my room.”
“Well, you still need a plate, don’t you?” he smirked.
Aggravated with his logic, she stomped her way to the cupboard that held the plates and grabbing one stepped next to Cassian for him to dish out her portion. His shoulder brushed against hers while he scooped the food onto her plate and she stiffened. He stopped moving and gently turned towards her. She didn’t move, she didn’t look at him. He waited a full minute, two, then three. He just stood there, relaxed but still as a statue, and finally she raised her head and looked at him. Her gray-blue eyes were made of steel, never revealing her emotions, but when she locked eyes with Cassian’s gaze she knew he stripped her barriers and saw the depth of her fear and emotions running through her today. He held her gaze with his beautiful hazel eyes, and she remembered looking into them a month ago and believing they would never get the chance to look at each other again. She thought they would both die that day, and his promises to her on that battlefield made her stronger. But after, he hadn’t so much as looked her way, not once, and she came to realize it was just the heat of the battle and the knowledge of death standing next to him that created that moment between them, that moment that turned out to be a lie.
Hardening her gaze, she yanked her plate out of his hand and moved towards the hallway that lead to her room. When she reached the doorway she heard him speak quietly, “It wasn’t a lie.”
Whirling around and spilling half her food in the process, she stood in the doorway, stunned speechless and with eyes big as saucers.
“In case that’s what you’ve been thinking all this time, about me, about what I promised you on that battlefield.” He held her gaze and took a deep breath. “When you decided to bait Hybern, to use yourself and your power as a diversion, I knew it was a death mission. I knew it meant you weren’t coming back. I also knew I wasn’t going to let you go alone, and I was going to do whatever it took to keep you alive. Anything it took to keep you alive. No matter the cost.”
“And then Hybern showed up with your father in his clutches.” A tear escaped down Nesta’s cheek, and Cassian’s voice broke. “I understood why you couldn’t strike at Hybern. I tried to protect you and kill him, and I failed at both.” Cassian hung his head, his hair falling and hiding part of his face. His shoulders shuddered with a silent sob, and after a moment he gathered himself and looked up at Nesta with tears shining in his eyes.
He was whispering now, barely able to get the words out. “I wanted that time with you, that time I wished we had before the war. That time I promised you we would have in the next world.” Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat and continued in a stronger voice. “I thought maybe you needed time, after everything you had been through. I was torn between wanting to stay by your side and worried that I would be smothering you at at time when you needed space.” He ran his hand through his hair and continued. “I’ve also struggled with changes in dynamics with my friends and me, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry those changes have kept me away from you like this. I haven’t handled this in the best way, but I think I’m learning what the best way should be and I’m going to do that from now on.”
Slowly, he moved towards Nesta until he was standing directly in front of her, close enough for her to reach out and touch him but far enough that he wasn’t crowding her, that she could still walk away without effort. “Nesta, this is our next world. I promised you I would find you and we would have our time. That’s what I’m doing right now. I want that time with you. I’m keeping that promise. I’m finding you, Nesta. You’re right here in front of me, but I know that a part of you isn’t. A part of you is struggling, is still fighting those shadows, that darkness. I’m not going to let you fight alone any longer. I’m never going to leave you. Never.”
Cassian stood in front of Nesta, back straight and wings slightly flared, tall and proud and waiting, watching her with a confident and unwavering stare. She looked at his wings, how the sun through the kitchen window changed their color from a dark and shadowy hue to a translucent rainbow of colors, beautiful to gaze upon. She ran her eyes over his shoulders, seeing his strength and power, the shape of his muscles visible beneath his shirt. She imagined the syphons on his hands and arms, across his chest and shoulders, and the power whirling beneath his skin. She realized in that moment that they did have something in common - they both had power, and he had learned how to harness and use that power in the past. Maybe she was wrong in thinking no one could help her. Maybe the others had gone through similar struggles while growing up, and wasn’t that exactly what she was doing now, growing up with power?
Nesta thought about all that he revealed to her just now, and how it had already started to change her feelings of rejection and abandonment. With a start she realized that her dark thoughts and fears hadn’t bothered her from the moment Cassian entered the kitchen. She hadn’t been overwhelmed, ready to crumble, since he arrived. Perhaps he was right; maybe staying away from everyone and dealing with this on her own wasn’t the way to conquer the darkness.
Looking up at Cassian’s face, she knew trying on her own wasn’t an option anymore. He wouldn’t allow it. The resolve and conviction in his hazel eyes took her breath away.
Swallowing, Nesta whispered, “I don’t know how to do this.”
Smiling softly, Cassian reached up and gently cupped her cheek with his hand. “Let’s learn together.”
A/N: Okay, firstly, I have zero knowledge when it comes to mommy kinks so please forgive me if this smut is not the most accurate mommy kink you’ve read. Secondly, I wanted to include a sex scene in this smut but I found that if I added it in, it felt a bit overdone if you know what I mean. Thirdly, since some of you mentioned that I should try writing in second/third POV, I decided to make a first attempt at it! This one is in second POV and it worked out well, so thank you to the anon who gave me this suggestion x lastly, remember to leave me some feedback in the ask box, okie? <3
Pairing(s): Sehun x Reader
Warnings: Mommy kink, stripteases
Genre: Light smut
Summary: Baby boy Sehun just needs some love and attention from his mommy.
Word Count: 2129
To those who know Oh Sehun well, he’s a young and handsome
young man without a care in the world, choosing to spend his youthful years by
getting drunk on tequila and getting into harmless trouble with his usual gang
of friends. To the eyes of the outside world, he’s a completely normal
twenty-one-year-old living a completely normal life. He goes to work daily, he
owns an adorable dog named Vivi and he has decent fashion sense. Oh, and he
also has a mommy kink. Wait a minute, that last bit doesn’t sound too normal
for a twenty-one-year-old man, does it?
At twenty-six years old, you have dozens of men falling for
you, willing to kiss the ground you walk on, to which you are fully aware of.
To your own eyes, you’re actually decent-looking. To men, however, you’re
practically a goddess. Unfortunately for at least half of the male population,
you only have eyes for a particular man. Or to be more specific, a particular boy.
Oh Sehun, five years younger than you and utterly drop-dead
gorgeous, is your boy toy. Honestly, you have no flipping idea when he
developed a fetish for older women but along the way, you started growing
attached to the idea of pampering a man younger than you are. As far as it
gets, you have to admit that it’s pretty weird for a carefree young woman like
yourself to fall in love with the idea of babying another legal adult; you
should be running around in lingerie and shaking your ass in the faces of men
older than you are, indulging in impulsive flings and breaking hearts
everywhere you go.
Prompt One: Hello there! I was hoping you could do the
blind!reader x negan? Where she’s just arrived in Alexandria and Negan
immediately takes an interest in her? Thanks and have a great day❤ -Via Anon
Prompt Two: Can
I have a Negan x blind!reader? Where people tried to hide her from Negan but
fails and Negan took an interest in her. Xx. – Via @thecatreadslemon
Negan x Blind!Reader, Minor Rick x Blind!Reader Words: 1,118
Warnings: Curses, mentions of claustrophobia Category: Fluff/Angst (?)
You were crouched in a small space
which judging by the sound of dull drips was damp. Outside of this fresh hell
you could hear two voices, Rick, the leader of Alexandria, and a new,
unfamiliar tone. The words were muffled by the walls so that you couldn’t make
out what they were talking about.
You reflected on how you had come to
be in your current predicament.
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Written by xoxoTheQueenOfHearts
“I want to draw you.” He whispered.
You looked at him with bated breath. You swallowed. “Draw me?” You asked in a mere whisper.
He licked his lips and eyed you like a meal. You blushed under his gaze. “Strip out of your clothes and lay on the couch.” He instructed you as he went to get his supplies ready.
His back was facing you. You were hesitant at first but did as he told you. You were self conscious and fought with yourself internally. You weren’t a perfect girl like a barbie doll but you still were self conscious. You laid on the couch and waited for him to turn around.
You studied the room as it was barely lit but he turned around and sat pretty close in front of you but far enough.
He opened his sketch book and grabbed his pencil. He stared at you for a long time. You couldn’t meet his gaze as it was too embarrassing.
“Look at me while I draw you.” He stated as he started to sketch. He was focused but every time he would look up, you would look away. “Look at me while I draw you.” He suggested and you did even though your face was flushed.
The silence was eery. “Have you ever been in love?” You asked him. He was an immortal and you were sure that someone so ancient would know. His answer surprised you.
“I’d rather have bird crap in my mouth.” He stated coldly as he went to detail his outline of you on paper.
You remained silent as you tried to process what he was telling you. You wanted to understand him. You adored him. You wanted him. And he wanted you but he was too scared as he was afraid of losing his control with you.
You met his eyes one last time before you got up from his couch in the foyer. You took his sketch pad and pencil from him placing it down beside him and as you sat in his lap facing him you leaned in to kiss him. You pulled back to meet his gaze. “Do you know how much I love you?” You asked him and he remained silent. “I love you Mr. Min. I wouldn’t be yours for nothing.” You whispered. You placed kisses down his neck before meeting his lustful gaze again. “I love you so much. You are the most bravest person I know.” You say to him before kissing his lips sensually. He eventually kisses you back. Your soft mewls fueled him as he picked you up and laid you down on the couch.
“I can never lose control with you.” He muttered under his breath, his lips barely touching yours. He was going to pull away but you stopped him as you pulled him back. You didn’t care that you were fully naked beneath him.
“You won’t, I trust you.” You whispered but he didn’t look at you. He was ashamed. “Look at me..” you muttered as he met your gaze. “I trust you.”
He was silent before he nodded and brought you into a slow passionate kiss. You parted your lips so he could enter and explore your sweetness.
He began shedding his clothes off and revealed his toned abdomen and chiseled body. You ran your hands down slowly down his chest.
You leaned up to push him back slightly as you heard him suck in a breath. You kissed up his abdomen and to his lips before making your way down again. When you got to the edge of his pants he stopped you. You looked at him with worry but he shook his head. He pushed you back down before he worshipped your body.
He did the same as you did to him. Kissing your lips, kissing your neck, and down the valley between your breasts. His lips barely grazed over your stomach. He pushed your legs your apart before slowly and sensual tasting your essence. You softly moaned against his touch.
No words were formed except your sweet moans and his licks and sucks at your core.
He kissed back up your body. “Let me…let me..” you were embarrassed to say but he shook his head.
“You’re too pretty..let me take care of you.” He whispered against your lips. You could taste your essence on his lips and tongue. You gripped his forearm before he pulled out his hard member and sat on the couch motioning you to sit on him. “Ride me.” He whispered.
Your face flushed as you sat on top of his as the both of your legs were on each side of his. You aligned yourself up to him as you slowly sank down taking him inch by inch. He was big for your petite size but you didn’t care. You loved him. You wanted him. He loved you just the same whether he wanted to admit to it or not. When you took him entirely you brought your hands to grip his shoulders as you waited to adjust to his size. He licked his lips as he watched you with hooded lustful eyes.
As soon as you got adjusted to his size and girth, you slowly rocked yourself up and down. You let out little moans and whimpers and he ran his hands up and down your back causing shivers to go down your spine. He rested his hands on your hips and started to help you rock. You could see in his eyes that he was trying to control his shift and you knew it was hard for him but you trusted him. You brought yourself to lean into him and kiss him passionately. You rocked a little quicker against him. He grunted and hissed beneath you.
You were close and he knew it. He could smell it. “Y-Yoongi..” you breathed out into his ear and he moved his hips with yours as he increased speed. You screamed out and arched your back as you came undone before him. Soon after he reached his climax and when it was over, you didn’t move. He didn’t move.
You met his gaze then and he whispered. “I lied.”
You swallowed. “Huh?” You asked.
He was ashamed. “When you asked me if I have ever been in love and I answered the way I did…” he started in a low tone of voice. “I lied.” He confessed.
You didn’t know what to say except listen. “And?” You asked quietly.
There was a long pause. “I love you.” He said sincerely. “I’m in love with you Y/N.” he whispered. “It’s always been you….all this time…it’s definitely you.” He looked deep into your eyes. “I love you..Y/N.”
You smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “I love you too.” You said against his lips.
There’s a couple in our [student/teacher] tag! Honestly one of my favourite fic tropes! I wish there were more… 10/10 will bribe authors with chocolate. I don’t think these are all necessarily smut, by the way.
Catnip Summary: Levi’s having a shitty day, somehow he ends up in a cafe filled with old ladies wearing cat ears, then suddenly Eren comes out dolled up in tights and a skirt and cat ears. Levi gets horny.
Further Inappropriateness Summary: Eren almost dropped his phone at those words, and quickly bit down on his left hand to stifle the moan that threatened to escape him. Oh how he wanted what Levi was promising him right now. Looking up at the front of the class room he tried not to squirm at the heat in Levi’s eyes as they rested on him. He could feel that gaze stripping him naked where he sat in a class room full of his peers.
“And there goes Weathers and McQueen, rounding turn 3!”
“It looks like Chick got caught up in the pits, that’s gonna leave Weathers with a huge lead!”
The King steadied himself into the lower lane of the track as he rounded the turn, his chassis low to the ground as his body tilted from the momentum. Lightning wasn’t too far off of his tail, his gaze centered on the blue race car before him.
“Alright, wait for him to go the outside, then slip by,” Doc spoke up to Lightning through the headset, watching the two racers exit the turn.
Lightning nodded in confirmation and grit his teeth as he pressed his engine hard enough to get side by side with Strip. The King glanced to the rookie, and though he didn’t smile, it was a look of respectful competitiveness. It wasn’t a smile, but it felt like one, it was the urge to win, the feeling driving both racers, in both the figurative and literal sense.
Chick veered around the second turn of the track now, an angered expression on his face as he saw the racers far ahead.
The two racers shared their stances for a good few minutes, with Lightning waiting for the perfect chance to take the lead. His engine’s powerful roaring only fueled him with more confidence, and it got him into the mindset that he had the assured ability to take the win. He kept his eyes straight on the track, glancing every few moments at The King, tracking his every choice and direction. It was coming up soon…
Lightning hurriedly accelerated, his body lowering to gain lineage as he steadily began to pass Weather’s frame. The red car was on the outside, and it only gave him another advantage to surpass the other racer. McQueen grinned happily as he managed to get far enough, keeping his new speed as he was now in first place.
Far behind them, although they couldn’t hear it, was Chick speeding as far and hard as he could go, the distance between him and the other two cars ahead closing slowly. He would soon reach them to take the win, at least he could try; but either way, he did not look happy about where he stood.
“Here, comes Chick, rounding turn 3 now, he’s catchin’ up to the leaders!” Darrel Cartrip stated over the microphone, and Chick’s fans in the crowds all cheered, though they were few.
The King’s gaze centered on McQueen as the red racer was now in front of him, though he didn’t panic and make any unnecessary and dangerous moves. He could pass the rookie in the next turn, regardless of his actions.
“Strip is right on your tail son, make sure to keep an eye on him, he’s going to try and pass you in the fourth turn.”
“Thanks Doc!” Lightning replied, speeding up further to his top speed as the track straightened out to its full length. Weathers tailed Lightning close, though his gaze flicked back as Chick neared up quickly.
“The legend, the runner up, and the rookie, lining up! With only 10 laps to go, this is gonna be close!” Bob Cutless stated, on the edge of his place in the booth, watching with great interest.
As the fourth turn neared, Strip took the moment and sped by Lightning with an incredible speed, he wasn’t called the King for nothing. Lightning watched with a somewhat look of shock as it had been so sudden, and he cursed under his breath as he hadn’t taken Doc’s advice soon enough.
Lightning sighed, but he wasn’t giving up just yet. All he had to do was earn his place back, that was all. Now he didn’t only hear his engine and Weather’s, as there was a new sound entering his range of hearing. He could sense Chick drawing up from behind, and he only put on a smirk of how it was all playing out for them. It took a minute, but the green car managed to have his front bumper aligned evenly besides McQueen’s back left fender. The Stock car narrowed his eyes, his anger subduing by just a bit since he was finally caught up, but it was still there.
“Hey McQueen!” Chick stated in his usual voice of annoyance. Lightning glanced to the direction of his voice from the side, realizing how close he was gaining up on him.
“Wait until you see me in Dinoco blue! Just a few short laps, prepare to taste the thunder!” he commented, though Lightning rolled his eyes. Just a distraction.
“Yeah, sure Chick, in your dreams. That’s why you’re behind me!” Lightning replied, speeding up to his top speed.
Strip had taken a little more of a lead now, about 20 yards in front of Chick and Lightning. Chick grumbled under his breath and sped up as well, noticing the first turn nearing. He glanced to the television in the center of the stadium, which showed the King’s lead.
“I am not going to be stuck behind you all again!” he called up, nearing Lightning ever so slightly, getting a little too close for comfort to the red racer’s side.
“Watch your distance kid, get out of it in the next turn!” Doc told McQueen, his gaze following the racers as they sped along. Strip was in the turn now, resuming his usual track of going to the inside to get around the turn as fast as possible.
Lightning gave a slight nod to himself, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself ever so harder. He settled his eyes on The King, making a mental note that he’d be able to catch up in no time if he kept his pace consistent. Besides him, Chick made sure to match the red car’s speed, narrowing his eyes. On his list of plans for this race, losing was not one of them. An idea came to his head; but it wasn’t new. It was something that always occurred to him, something that was drilled into his mindset over and over. He glanced at McQueen’s side, seeing that they were still alongside each other, bumper to fender.
“I am not staying behind you again!” he repeated, suddenly ramming at Lightning’s side.
Lightning gasped and suddenly crashed into the wall fender first, golden sparks spraying in all directions as he struck the wall hard. The red car veered to the left in a millisecond, his side just barely clipping Chick’s front bumper. Lightning was sideways now, his tires skidding inwards and leaving dark tire marks on the road.
“McQueen is loose, McQueen is loose!” the announcers were shouting, and Lightning’s gaze flicked sideways, which allowed him to see forward. The smallest bump in the racetrack suddenly made his front wheel buckle inwards and it forced him into the air. The King’s gaze flicked up to the television as he heard the announcer’s calls, and his gaze widened, his speed slowing ever so slightly.
Terror struck through Lightning as his body was now in the air, but all feelings were eliminated as the side of his front bumper struck the ground. His back left side tilted forward, the force beginning to flip his body in a wild spin. Yellow sparks flashed in all directions as he slammed into the ground repeatedly, metallic pieces scattering onto the ground. The crowd gasped, their eyes widening as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. McQueen’s body flipped quickly, it being a blur as gravity shoved him toward the grass in the inner parts of the stadium. His spoiler suddenly ripped off, with scratches and dents embedding themselves deeply into his frame, making for permanent scars. He plummeted face first at times, only causing his back side to be shoved forward all over, landing on his back. Smoke trailed from him, and he began to come to a gradual stop, tilting over onto his back heavily.
The King found himself slowing down for some reason, and Chick sped by him like a blur. The green car rounded the next turn and was off within seconds.
Strip gazed at the television, and knew something wasn’t right. He quickly slammed his brakes, the road now stained with his tire tracks. Once he stopped, he reversed and turned around to rush over to McQueen.
As he neared, he could see the damage was more severe than the televisions were showing it as.
He nudged McQueen and tried to flip him right side up, but flinched at the car’s murmur of pain.
“You’re gonna be alright buddy, let’s just get you on your tires,” he assured, pressing against McQueen again and getting him on his side before flipping him right side up. Chick continued to round the track, cheering himself on, though the crowd was silent in disbelief.
The King blinked, worry filling his gaze as the injuries came into better view.
It was atrocious.
There was smoke steaming up from Lightning’s entire body, from his hood to the underside of him. His tires were bent in an awkward position, only leaving it to fear to form what his axles must’ve looked like. In many places his frame was chipped off, some parts larger than others, and his entire spoiler was nowhere in sight. The dents were extremely deep, marking his body heavily, especially on his hood. McQueen’s eyes were only visible in the slightest, his gaze clouded and tinged with red. Oil was leaking out from underneath him, and there was even liquid oozing out of his exhaust pipes on the sides and his tailpipe. Lightning was taking in struggled, slow breaths, as if he ever dared to stop he’d pass out.
Doc was in complete shock and he sped down off the ramp and headed to the crash sight. He went with a speed he hadn’t used in a while down pit lane, skidding around the turn to get to being in the right direction.
Terror filled his engine with flashbacks of his own crash and worry that this was the end of Lightning’s racing, for good. The same thing that happened to himself would happen to the rookie. He couldn’t let it happen, not to someone who brought him so much joy with the adrenaline of racing.
“Kid–kid!” he stated quickly as he neared, though he found himself slowing as his mouth opened in shock. The damage was worse than his own had been.
The sound of Chick rounding another turn behind them was a dull noise now.
The King’s worried gaze flicked to Doc, and the light blue car backed up so the darker blue car could head up closer.
“Kid…” Doc breathed out, his eyes only widening further at the injuries. This couldn’t be happening…Not when the rookie had so much left in him.
Lightning coughed, though it was barely audible. His dazed vision landed on Doc, his pupils dulling at the slightest as he tried to focus on him.
“…D-D..oc…” he rasped out, his breathing cutting back into its slow momentum again. The Hudson Hornet edged closer, his expression being fearful and full of denial.
“Lightnin’, you’re, you’re gonna be okay. Just hold on…” he breathed out, in reassurance for both Lightning and himself. The sound of sirens in the air met them, and Doc and Weathers turned around, spotting the ambulances speeding up toward them.
As he got a look, Doc turned back around, his gaze full of sorrow and pain.
Lightning’s gaze was slowly clouding over, growing dull. As Doc glanced down, the amount of oil underneath the racer was flowing in sickening amounts.
“He must have torn a main line, get him into the ambulances now!” an emergency vehicle shouted quickly, but Doc remained unmoving as the ambulance pulled up beside Lightning.
He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t fathom it. He was bleeding too badly, and the way his gaze looked was a very, very bad sign.
“C'mon kid, you can’t…l-leave…” Doc’s voice broke, and tears edged at his eyes. It wasn’t like him to cry at all, in fact, he’d only done it a few times in his life. His voice grew hoarse and he inched ever so closer, his breathing shaky.
The ambulance’s back doors opened as the vehicle positioned itself behind the fallen racer.
Lightning shuddered as emergency cars carefully lifted him up, edging him into the back of the ambulance. Even more oil leaked onto the grass, and Doc found himself shedding tears.
“K-Kid…you’ll…be fine…” he breathed, his gaze connecting with Lightning. The rookie didn’t seem to notice this, his eyelids ever so slightly dropping down as if he was going to fall asleep.
The Hudson Hornet jolted as the doors slammed closed, breaking off the view from him.
Clicking on its loud sirens, the ambulance accelerated away quickly, driving toward the exit to the nearest hospital.
Doc lowered his gaze onto the ground, seeing the blood puddled in large amounts, which was already seeping into the dirt. The King hesitantly glanced at him, his eyes filled with sorrow.
“I’m so sorry..” Strip breathed, his gaze flicking back to Chick as the car had rounded the final lap and already crossed the finish line. But, he was the only one celebrating.
Strip drew back slightly, letting out a heavy hearted sigh. His gaze fell to the blood again, his eyes flicking over it ever so slightly.
“That..” he swallowed, as if not wanting to say it, “that might be fatal…”
Doc knew this too. Something had broken that definitely shouldn’t have.
Drawing back slowly, Doc’s gaze was filled with a small amount of panic that spoke he wasn’t believing this was all happening.
“No…” he breathed out, the tears finally edging down his hood.
Strip didn’t need to look at Doc to know. He already heard him. He looked away, closing his eyes in denial as well. No one had ever thought this may have been Lightning’s final race. Or even worse…his final day permanently.
Doc reversed back a bit, the other members of the pit crew coming into mind. He couldn’t bear to think what they were feeling. Mater, Sally…
The Hudson Hornet forced himself to look up, noticing that the crowd was much quieter than they were before. It was a moment of confusion for him, but he figured they must’ve been worried too.
Doc’s pain only grew worse. Lightning had been forward to racing today; it was something he loved. And to have it all end so soon…It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right.
All of McQueen’s pit crew was grieving back inside the pit stop, and it broke Sally’s heart more to see Doc sobbing, actually sobbing.
“Doc–…I…” she breathed out, her voice shaky. “I-I don’t know what to say…” she murmured, glancing at Mater, who was strangely silent.
Two cars came into the pits, the King and his pit crew chief.
“Officials told us–…” the pit crew chief began, but his voice trailed off.
The King spoke up instead, his voice solemn. “McQueen is…they got him to the hospital but…it…” he trailed off as well, but the cars they were speaking to slowly got the message.
Doc’s eyes widened huge and he looked at a loss for words, his gaze shaky.
Sally drove up slightly, her gaze filled with disbelief. “St-Stickers is..?”
The King forced himself to connect gazes with her. “He..they, said he…didn’t make it…” he breathed out, his gaze lowering.
Sally blinked, tears filling her eyes as they trailed down her hood. She backed up, terrible pain wrenching inside her engine as she comprehended what had been said.
The entire thing hit Doc all over again, squeezing his eyes shut hard as he combated the sorrow deep within him.
“I’m, I’m sorry,” Strip choked out, trying to keep himself composed. “He…lost too much blood. There..was nothing they could…do..” he finished off, the words stinging as he said it.
A/N- this is a fic with Draco x a female reader from another house. You’re with the trio as they are your friends. Sorry to all my fellow Slytherins :(
You play around with the food on your plate while gazing around the Great Hall. Dinner is nearly over and you’re getting bored. You dart your gaze straight ahead of you where you feel someone’s intense stare. You’re met with the stormy grey eyes of none other than Draco Lucius Malfoy. Slytherin Prince and Bad Boy of Hogwarts. His ruffled, platinum coloured hair falls on his forehead as though he’s run his fingers through it. You sit at the Gryffindor table surrounded by your friends. Only one table away from the Slytherins.
You look closely at Draco and notice a few…interesting details. His eyes hold a bright, lustrous gaze which sends shivers running down your spine. He fidgets quite noticably if you look at him long enough. Almost as though he’s…restless.
“(y/n)…(y/n)!” Harry shouts. Causing you to jump and tear your gaze away from the sexy Slytherin Prince.
“Y-yes?” you stammer, looking into Harry’s startling, emerald irises.
“S-sorry, I was just asking whether you…erm..wanted to er..go to the library with me after dinner? I mean j-just as friends…studying.”
“Er-um I~” you look across the hall in search for Draco but find his seat empty. You don’t know what you were expecting. But it makes your face fall.
“S-sure..I gue-” you begin.
“No can do, Potter. (y/l/n) was just coming with me.” Draco cuts in with a hint of anger. You gape at him in shock. As does everyone else. Ron even drops the chicken drumstick he had been eating. Draco nods his head in the direction of the door and begins to storm towards it.
“(y/n)?” Harry begins uncertainly.
“Sorry, guys. I have somewhere to be. I’ll speak to you later, Harry.” And with that you take off after him. Heart pounding in anticipation of who knows what.
Just as the doors to the Great Hall slam shut behind you, you’re pushed roughly against them.”W-what?” Draco cuts you off by smashing his slightly chapped lips onto yours. You stiffen in shock before you kiss back just as hard. One hand finds its way into his soft hair; while the other trails down his lightly toned body. Just as he begins to cup your breast you pull away panting.
“I think we should take this somewhere else.” Indicating to the Great Hall where the sound of peoples’ footsteps nearing the door is heard.
Draco nods quickly and lifts you up by the waist, taking you by surprise. You squeal in shock and instantly wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. You feel his hard member through your robes on your stomach. He smirks sexily. “Don’t worry, love. I’ve got you.” he says before taking you to the Slytherin common room. You blush slightly at the nickname and bury your head in the crook of his neck.
Draco whispers the password to the portrait and quickly enters. You’ve never seen the Slytherin common room before. Glancing around you take in the elegancy of the room. From the expensive, leather couches to the blazing lizard-green fire casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. “Wow.” you breathe.
“Ready to see my dorm?” he asks lowly.
“I hope to see more than that, Draco.” you wink at him. He chuckles huskily in response and carries you up to his dormitory. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sound of his voice. He glances at you and smirks triumphantly at your lust-glazed expression.
As the door opens, you are greeted by the sight of roughly six emerald and silver four-posters. Draco carries you to the one in the farthest corner on the right side of the room. In one swift movement, he opens the draping curtains. His grip on your hips tightens for a second before he throws you onto the bed.
Straddling your hips, Draco pins both of your hands above your head. A flash of anger flickers in his cobalt eyes. “Draco~” “You. Are. Mine. You got that?” he growls.
“Draco, where’s this coming from?” you ask in shock.
“Potter.” he hisses. “You belong to me. Not him.” you laugh lightly. Your heart is pounding ferociously as though it’s trying to escape your ribcage. His possessiveness turns you on immensely.
“I am yours. I don’t belong to anyone else. You got that?” you imitate. He huffs satisfied, and leans closer to you. An inch away from your lips.
“Good.” he says huskily. It drives you over the edge and you yank his tie and capture his lips with your own. He kisses back with unrestrained passion. Letting go of your wrists, Draco lets his hands wander over your clothed body. He leans back on his ankles and begins removing his uniform.
Sliding off his tie, Draco begins to unbutton his slightly dishevelled shirt. You stare in lust as his deliciously smooth, pale skin is exposed further and further. You feel your mouth water slightly at the sight of Draco’s lightly toned abs. Once his white shirt is cast aside, Draco uses his wand to cast the muffliato and sealing charms.
Draco glances up at you with a hooded, lust-filled gaze. “Strip.” he commands quietly. You oblige immediately. You quickly get rid of your tie. Though fumbling with your buttons due to Draco’s fixated stare. He chuckles softly and unbuttons the remaining ones. He flings your shirt to the side and you hear his breath hitch at the sight of your black lace bra.
You slowly slide off your skirt and chuck it God knows where. You both stare at each other; your breath becoming increasingly eratic. He crawls over you and whispers huskily in your ear, “Do you want me to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able remember your own name,(y/n)?” you let out a soft whimper in reply.
He strips you of your panties and uses a slender finger begins to strum your clit. A gasp escapes your lips and he grins wickedly. Draco claims your lips again while continuing to pleasure you. You suck his bottom lip and he groans. He begins to nibble on your bottom lip then pulls it towards him. Seizing the opportunity, Draco thrusts his warm tongue into your mouth and you start a heated battle for dominance.
Draco removes his finger and grinds on you instead; feeling his rock hard member create friction against you. Moan after moan leaves your lips. You clutch a hand ful of his silky hair and tug. It drives him mad. He growls lowly and reaches behind you to unhook your bra. He throws it behind him and squeezes your breast.
Draco unbuckles his belt and you help him tug off his remaining clothing. Then lines himself up to your entrance. He pushes into you slowly. Sucking in a breath before groaning loudly. You let out a small hiss as he stretches you. Once you’ve adjusted to his size you hook your left leg around his waist. “Move.” you breathe out. He moves out slowly only to slam back in. You both groan. He repeats the action a few times before he angles himself differently. You gasp his name and tug his hair again. He’s found your g-spot. A smug smirk tugs at his lips and he whispers in your ear, “found it.”
He slams into you relentlessly. Hiting the same spot over and over. You can’t think, hell you can hardly breathe. You feel the familiar sensation pooling in your stomach and you know you wont last long. You clutch him closer to you. “D-Draco.” you moan. He understands and goes faster. He has you screaming his name and he held true to his word. You can’t remember your own name.
With one last thrust you cum. Legs trembling and stomach clenching. Draco follows soon after. Though not before he has pulled out. Draco’s worn-out body slumps against yours. It takes a good few minutes before you regain your breaths. Draco moves next to you.
Laying your head against Draco’s sweat-layered chest, you fall asleep to the sound of his calming heartbeat.
Eh..I felt like writing smut XD hope you guys liked that ;)
can’t wait for the drought to come back,
can’t wait to find frog bodies bloated and dense where the creek once passed,
feel the sun on the back of my bare neck, turning red and hot to the touch.
if i ever fall in love again i want it to be in the light, with spoken words, with gazes through strips of grass, with breath, without breath, with breath again and overflowing with it.
it would have to be on the kitchen counter, beside the sprouting avocado tree and the bowl of green apples, at night when the dish washer is running and someone on the radio is singing about heather and driving to the coast line.
summer is coming too fast,
i see it in the ripple of indian grass.
Mr Gold gestured to a table away from the bar, and Belle shrugged and picked up her wine and the plate of nachos. She was surprised when he pulled out a chair for her, but took a seat, and he sat across from her with one hand folded over the handle of his cane. Fingers drummed slowly on the side of his whisky glass as he watched her, and Belle wasn’t sure if he was making her uncomfortable or not. She sensed that he was dangerous, but there was something else there, something that told her that he wouldn’t hurt her.
“Well,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we should start with the basics. What’s your name?”
She thought quickly. Her name was known at the hospital, and until she was sure that Dr Hopper would vouch for her, and for his decision in releasing her, she didn’t want to make the job of taking her back any easier. So she needed a name.
stiles is dared to go into a 711 in just his underwear and get a slurpee. derek is on shift that night.
“He won’t do it. He’s a pussy.” Jackson drawled, arms draped around his girlfriend Lydia. Stiles was seated in their apartment, along with a few of their other friends as they passed around a bong. He was high, they had already been a drinking a little, and damn it if this truth or dare session wasn’t going to be the death of him!
It had been Erica’s turn, and rather than confess his current crush (Derek Fucking Hale), the nineteen year old quickly sealed his fate as soon as her lips parted into a wicked grin. “Alright. If you won’t spill the beans about your love life, I dare you to…” she trailed off, staring out the window for a moment. “Go buy me a huge cherry slurpee from the 7/11 across the street.”
Stiles narrowed his eyes, he knew there was going to be more.
“Oh. And in just your underwear. Strip, strip, strip!” She began to chant as Danny, Isaac, Scott and Allison joined in.
Stiles was a lot of things, but he definitely knew he wasn’t a coward. With his inebriated inhibitions and misplaced confidence, Stiles jumped up, nearly falling over Scott due to his level of intoxication. He pulled off the red hoodie, dropping it pointedly over Scott’s face.
“Shut up, Jackson. I was getting hot anyway.”
Now Stiles also knew he wasn’t as nearly chiseled and lean as the rest of the guys present, but he knew he was decently attractive. He blushed under the scrutiny of his friends gaze as he stripped, Erica howling in laughter in her boyfriend Boyd’s lap. Scott wolf-whistled, Danny commented on his ‘nice boxers’ while slapping his ass, and Isaac poked him before giggling. “You’ve been working out Stiles. Them guns. Niceee.” The blonde boy crooned. Stiles batted his hands away while blushing furiously, grabbed a ten out of his wallet, and slipping his flipflops on.
It was now or never. He made his way down the stairs, equipped with only his batman flipflops, tight fitting red boxer-briefs, and shakey resolve. It was a very brief walk to the store, but the warm summer air actually felt nice, and he hadn’t ran into anyone on the sidewalk on his way to the 7-11.
Once inside the store Stiles finally realized how high he was, because he could have sworn he could see Derek Hale standing behind the register. He wiped his eyes, and nope. This was a nightmare. Had to be.
The dark haired male turned, finally noticing Stiles arrival. Derek’s eyebrows rose comically as he tensed up, clearly surprised by Stiles appearance before him.
“Stiles…w-what are you doing?”
Stiles gulped, feeling his neck and face heat up. He knew with his pale skin it was easily noticeable. Maybe if he just acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, Derek wouldn’t think he was a complete lunatic.
“Hey, Derek. Just, uhm, came for a cherry slurpee. It’s too hot.” He made his way to the machine, feeling Derek’s eyes follow him the whole way.
He made himself and Erica a drink, and stepped over to the register gingerly. Derek didn’t react, and continued staring at him in a daze. Stiles had to wave to get his attention, and finally caught on to what was going on: Derek was blushing.
“Hey, earth to Derek. Eyes up here man.” He teased, cocky grin plastered on his face. Derek quickly looked down, coughing to clear his throat, shifting nervously.
“Oh, sorry. Let me just. Yeah. Two-fifty please.”
“Thanks. How’s your night going?”
“It’s been okay. Off soon. Twenty minutes.” Derek looked up shyly, obviously trying not to get caught staring again.
“Sweet, you should come hang out with Scott and our friends across the street after your shift ends. They’re assholes sometimes, but it’s fun.”
“Uh, sure. You lost a bet or something, didn’t you?”
“A dare, actually. I hear spin the bottle is next. Juvenile, I know. We like to keep it real. Apartment 231, see you in a few?” Stiles smirked. This was doing wonders for his ego now, but he had the odd feeling he was gonna be really embarrassed later.
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll be there. See you soon, Stiles.” He smiled bashfully, and Stiles knew then that he was in love. And turned on. Deciding he would rather not die of embarrassment for popping an awkward boner in front of his crush, he quickly left and journeyed back to Lydia’s.
When the door opened, the noise died as all his friends looked at him expectantly.
“See, no big deal. Your slurpee, my lady.” Stiles shrugged, handing Erica her beverage.
“Shit, Stilinski, you actually did it. I’m impressed.” Jackson said, finally breaking their silence.
“Wow. Thanks. Your turn to dare someone then,” Erica nodded. Stiles handed his drink to Scott who had been making grabby hands, and tugged on his pants and hoodie, neglecting to put back on his white t-shirt. He sat back down, instantly being pounced on by Isaac, and hummed in thought as he ruffled the blonde’s curly hair, taking a hit off the pipe Lydia had passed him.
“Scott, truth or dare.”
Said brunette made a betrayed sound, instantly looking at Stiles with wounded puppy eyes.
Derek showed up like he said he would twenty minutes later, and Stiles may have gotten his number.
As we walked out of the door, I let go of Rhys’s hand and looked up at him to see his smile falter. I turned to walk towards the reception but as soon as I realized Rhys wasn’t following me I turned back to him and asked: “Are you coming?” His eyes trailed up my body and focused on my lips and then he nodded, smirked and followed.
Characters: SugaxReader Length: 1473 Genre: Fluff. So much fluff. Warnings/Notes: Emotional Yoongi and one f-bomb. The first two lines are borrowed from this song.
Summary: Sometimes words don’t come easy, but Yoongi has a language of his own.
I look for ways to say I love you
“But I’m not into making love songs.” Yoongi knew exactly how ridiculous he looked, his arms crossed defiantly in front of his chest, his lips slightly pursed, headphones only covering one ear muffling out the sound of Namjoon’s response.
“You made ‘Let me know’.”
“That’s not about love,” Yoongi spat. ‘Let me know’ was about pain, uneasiness, uncertainty. It was about the darkness that came with the kind of love people called love because they didn’t know what else to call it. It was about the loneliness that accompanied falling for a person who wouldn’t take the leap for you. It was about holding on to things that were long lost, or had never been there to begin with.
Okay, so this is my first attempt at fan fiction, after being a fandom lurker for almost a year. Believe it or not, I actually wrote this like a month ago and honestly thought it would never see the light of day, but then @2momsmakearight‘s Missing Scene Challenge popped up and I figured, what the heck.
I just had a lot of thoughts about when Scully actually told Mulder that he was William’s father (because there’s no way that she never gave him any confirmation, let’s be real), and this little thing resulted from that.
Also, I’m sure someone has written something similar to this before, and that’s probably where my inspiration came from; if that’s the case, my apologies!
He places the key in the lock, surprised that it still moves
counterclockwise with his wrist. As if he doubts that his key would still work. He knows he should knock, but at this hour,
it’s useless: the person on the other side of the door has long been asleep. As he twists the
knob and pushes the door open, he sucks in a breath. Nervous. He’s nervous. He thinks, this is how someone must feel during their first breaking and
entering. He’s not breaking, and it wouldn’t be his first time anyway; he knows he’s welcome to enter whenever. At
least, he used to be.
As he gently swings the door closed behind him, he realizes
that he is making a mistake. He should not be here, she does not want him here,
or she would have told him so. He tries to push those thoughts aside as he toes off
his shoes and quietly shakes out of his jacket, hanging it up on the hook on
the wall next to the door. He lines up his shoes directly underneath his jacket, knowing she would be upset to see them in the middle of the floor when
she woke. He takes a step towards the hall and freezes, thinking he should just turn
around and walk away. She would never know he had been here if he were to leave right now.
His movements are on autopilot now, contradicting his
thoughts. He tries to redirect them, but he’s finds controlling them to be difficult. Don’t do it, he thinks at first. But then he takes another step. Just go, go to her. He follows his
feet, and in a few silent strides, he is at her bedroom doorway. It’s opened
just a crack, which is odd. She usually sleeps with the door completely shut. It must be because she’s constantly getting
up to use the bathroom, he presumes. It
can’t be comfortable having something persistently pushing against your
bladder. No, not something, he corrects, someone.
He pushes her door open slowly and stands at the entry for a
few moments, taking her in. She’s curled on the left half of the bed, resting
on her right side with her left hand clutching her swollen belly. She takes up
more space now than she used to, but he reminds himself that there are technically two
people in that bed, not just her. She’s sleeping heavily, and he sees the deep
rise and fall of her chest. He takes a quick glance at the clock on her
nightstand. 2:23. He hesitates for a moment, thoughts of doubt filling his mind
But then he sees her sigh heavily and let out a whimper, as if afraid. A tear silently falls down her left cheek, escaping her closed eye, and her grip on her abdomen
tightens. In an instant, he is gently crawling into the bed behind her. He
feels her sink into him as the mattress dips with his added weight. He rests
his left hand over hers, the one that’s protecting the life inside of her. She
starts at his touch, gasping as her eyes go wide. He removes his hand, hovering closely so that he still
feels the warmth radiating from her skin, but enough to lose the physical
contact that leaves him slightly empty.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispers into her hair. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Mulder?” Her voice is groggy, and he detects a hint of
bewilderment, but he recognizes the underlying relief in her tone, as well.
He puts his hand over hers again, stroking it lightly. “I
just…” He’s at a loss for words, distressing thoughts invading his mind again.
She turns over to face him, awkwardly, due to her protruding
stomach, and when she’s settled, he wipes away the streak of wetness her tear
tracked down her face. His touch is delicate, as if he’s afraid she might break
from too much contact. She doesn’t lean into him, just simply closes her eyes
again. It didn’t used to be this way,
he thinks. The last time he remembers her crying in her sleep, she was dying
from her cancer. His thoughts now flood with memories of sleepless nights on
his end, watching her cry as she slept, holding back tears of his own. He wonders now if she had just as many of those nights during his
absence. You were actually dead, he
thinks, it was so much worse for her.
He wonders what made her cry this time. You, jackass. You’ve caused her so much pain. How can you be so selfish, wanting the child she’s carrying to be yours? You don’t deserve her.
You don’t deserve that child.
He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He’s about to ask her what she was dreaming about when her
eyes flutter open to meet his. Ashamed, he plants the direction of his gaze firmly on
the strip of bare skin peeking out below her pajama top. When he finally shifts
his eyes back to her, he sees the look on her face, as if she’s grappling with
what’s going through his mind. She’s concerned over his thoughts, and he’s
wallowing in them. Yeah, I really don’t
A few minutes pass, and his gaze has returned to her
stomach. His thumb traces a path just below the hem of her shirt. He speaks so
quietly and it’s not quite a whisper, more like a sigh with almost unintelligible words.
“I just have to know. Is this my… am I going to be a…” He can’t finish his sentences,
and he’s not sure if he truly can’t find the words, or if speaking them means
she’ll give him an answer he’s not ready to hear.
She keeps her eyes focused on his face, pleading silently
for him to meet her gaze. She sighs and grabs his left hand with her right,
placing it fully on her abdomen just below her belly button, letting her fingers
slide between his. They keep their palms flat against her stomach, feeling her
skin radiate against their combined touch. “Mulder,” she says, “I want you to
tell me a story.”
He looks up at her, their eyes locking on each other once
again. This time, he keeps his hazel, blue-green eyes even with her ocean blue
ones. Despite the perplexing expression he knows his face embodies, hers is
calm, the corners of her mouth even slightly turned up. He’s not sure why she’s
avoiding his question, but he obliges and begins to speak.
“Have I ever told you about how I became a Yankees fan?” She
shakes her head, carefully propping herself up slightly on her left elbow.
Their hands remain gently pressed against her skin. “Well,” he continues, “It was just over a week shy of my sixteenth birthday when the Yanks began their
’77 playoff run. I had always liked baseball, despite the fact that no one else
in my family did. I played for years, too, which you knew already.” Her smile grows slightly.
“But I had yet to feel truly
connected to a professional team. So I sat down and began to watch that
seasons’ playoffs. The Yanks won the ALCS in five, and Game 5 was a nail-biter.
They were down 3-2, but in the top of the ninth, they got three more runs. It
was incredible, coming back from behind like that! Anyway, the World Series
began two days before my birthday, and Game 1 went into extra innings…”
He stops his rambling when he feels movement beneath his
hand. He looks down at where his hand meets hers, and is conscious of yet
another distinct movement a few seconds later. Her hand hasn’t moved, and
neither has his. He looks back up at her with wide, curious eyes, tears
threatening to break the surface. Her smile is blissful and her eyes show contentment;
he realizes this is the first time she’s smiled at him like this since he
“I wanted the baby to know your voice, just in case…” her
smile fades, and her breath hitches. He knows what she cannot bear to speak, in case I never came back.
“The baby knows my voice? How?”
She lets go of his hand and sits up cautiously. She turns to the
nightstand at the side of her bed and opens the drawer, revealing a portable CD
player equipped with headphones. She turns back to him and lifts her shirt
slightly, placing the headphones on each side of her stomach. The player comes
to rest at the top of her stomach just below her breasts. She switches the
player on, turning the volume up slightly, and presses “Play.” She places her
hand on his head, encouraging him to move closer to her stomach near one of the
headphones, faintly hearing his voice emitting through the speaker.
“What’s on that CD?” he asks, voicing his confusion with the
first of many eager questions.
“Old recordings of some of our case files. Conversations you
had with the Gunmen. They didn’t always turn the tape off, you know.”
He glances up toward her and sits up fully, slightly baffled, but
hanging on her every word.
“When I told the Gunmen I was pregnant, they compiled
anything and everything they had of you speaking. They put it on a disk and
gave me this,” she lifts up the portable player. “They told me that they read
somewhere how by 24 weeks, a baby’s hearing is developed enough that they begin responding to sounds and voices that they recognize, which I already knew. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first.” A tear
escapes her eye when she closes them and sighs, trying to collect her thoughts.
“We decided it would be a good idea for the baby to have something, especially
when he got older, so that he could hear his father’s voice whenever…” She
trails off, her gaze dropping, and he doesn’t need her to finish.
She casts a glance his way and smirks. “Technically, I don’t
know what it is. But I think it’s a he. I want it to be a he.” Her voice grows
smaller as she continues to speak.
“You could always find out, Scully.”
She gives him a wholehearted smile, but she sounds dejected
when she utters, “I didn’t want to find out without you.”
When their eyes meet again, they both soften. He takes the
headphones off her belly and pushes the CD player towards the foot of the bed. He
cups her face and plants small kisses on her forehead, nose, and cheeks before
settling on her lips, leaving them pressed together longer than he anticipated.
When he breaks the kiss, they settle back down on their sides, facing each
other. He takes her right hand in his left, placing it on her belly.
“When’s your next appointment?”
“Thursday.” She pauses, hesitates even, but begins again.
“You could come, if you want. We could find out, if you…”
The baby kicks again, and he thinks he’s never seen a smile
so exquisite on her face. He props himself up slightly and turns onto his back.
His right arm goes around her shoulders, pulling her as close as their child
will allow, and she nuzzles her nose into his neck.
“We’re having a baby, Scully.”
“Yeah, Mulder. We’re having a baby.”
Her eyes close slowly, taking only minutes to fall back to sleep. His thumb begins rubbing her stomach, soothing both her and the
life they created. He listens to her breathing, and when he thinks it’s deep
enough, he whispers, “So, kid, on October 18th, 1977, the Yankees
won their 21st World Series…”
Summary: A shitty day had just turned shittier when you had to share a room with your really unpleasant boss, Oh Sehun… It had been a week since that night, that morning, and that email.
(( Note: You guys might hate me for this, but hERE’S THE THING: THERE’S A NOTE AT THE END OF THIS, PLEASE READ IT AFTER YOU’RE DONE READING THE SCENARIO :) ))
That one particular morning was obnoxiously sunny and Oh Sehun walked through the doors of that one very familiar large office building. The one which he walked through almost every single day of the year. The one which he seemed to be the big boss CEO of… The one which, from the very moment he walked in, felt different but just like the past seven days of that week. And of course, it was exactly seven days since that very email popped into his inbox while one his business trip, the email that titled: Letter of Resignation Confirmation: Y/N Y/L/N.
The words and letters on the illuminated screen that day seemed to be permanent in the CEO’s eyes, as those haunting words had kept him up for the past seven nights. Each night he would be on his bed with the comforter and countless pillows pushed off to the side, his room seemingly too hot for him now (or was too cold?), and Sehun would be thinking of the usual: that letter, that night, that feeling, this feeling…
“…this warm feeling he was feeling or this fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach…”
While thinking of you.
If he was confused then, he was completely and utterly mind-boggled now. Sehun found himself thinking back on the events that had happened, each time would bring a pang onto his chest and he would be puzzled as to why. Why was he feeling all of this? About you? His sassy, hot-headed assistant who would seemingly always have a comeback to everything he ever said and a way to annoy the hell out of Sehun.
You were just another employee after all.
Then again, you seemed so far from ‘just another employee.’
“…so confused and as his mind was a mess, his heart was a mess…”
And why was he feeling a mess knowing simple fact that you—
You were leaving.
All Sehun could ever ask himself was: Why?
Sehun walked, his shoes clicked against the newly waxed floor as he passed the reception giving the ladies at the front desk a respective nod before pushing the glass elevator ‘up’ button. He watched as the gears on the other of the translucent doors shifted, the elevator pulled down to the ground floor, and the doors that slid open with a loud ‘ding.’ Sehun stepped into the four walls and pressed his floor button at which he stared at the lobby, becoming smaller and smaller and soon disappearing. He waited for what seemed to be too long before the elevator dinged once more and Sehun stepped out onto his floor where numerous head turned towards him. The floor gave Sehun silent greetings as he made his way down the hall and to his office returning the greeting with the same curt nods he gave the fronts desk a few minutes ago.
It was just like any other day.
But as he placed a hand on the knob of his office, he noticed something. Or rather heard something that was definitely not ‘any other day.’ That something happened to be noises that seemed to be coming from his office that was supposed to be dead silent after…
No, it couldn’t be.
He shook his head and shook away the seemingly impossible as well. Although he himself couldn’t deny the fact that the noise—they sounded so unusual and yet so familiar. But it can’t be, he thought. It was probably the lack of sleep. Sehun breathed and once he’d calmed down a bit, he clutched onto the shiny tighter before giving it a twist and a push open.
But within the second of him stepping into his office—he froze.
Because what he was seeing the second he stepped into his room—he could not believe.
Because what—or who—was in front he proved the ‘lack of sleep’ only seconds ago completely wrong.
Because it was her.
You were standing by your desk dressed in casual clothes and hair tied up in a ponytail with glowing aura from the bright sun from the wall length window behind you that surrounded your figure so beautifully. Sehun eyes had already fixed on you right as you looked up and within that moment your eyes met his and you opened your mouth letting out a soft, “Good morning.”
Sehun felt his heart stop.
It was Y/N.
“G-Good morning,” he barely managed to not choke on his reply. You gave him a small nod before directing your attention back to whatever you were doing before he had walked in and Sehun’s eyes followed as you hand moved across your desk, grabbed the post-it holder at the corner of the glass desk, and retrieved the item only for it to disappear into a box.
His eyes wandered to the area of your desk only to find similar boxes as the one that sat on the table top, one on the ground, another on your chair. Items that used to be on your desk, that Sehun was used to seeing every day, were nowhere to be seen. Your simple desk vacant of almost everything. And Sehun’s eyes followed your hands as they—again—picked up the pencil holder and place it into the same box.
The obvious dawned upon him.
“You’re packing,” it slipped out of him without him even realizing.
You looked up with his question. “Oh, yeah. I just have to clear some stuff. Then I’ll leave.”
Then you’ll leave.
Sehun moved to his desk and slowly placed his things up on the glass surface with the words ringing in his ears it was then that he noticed something sitting beside his desktop, on a wooden coaster—coffee.
“You made me coffee.” He let out. Powerless. Monotoned. And he watched as steam swirled from the hot beverage and as you replied, “I figured since it’s the last day, ” he almost missed the soft chuckle coming from you. “Two sugars and a cream.”
“I’ve made ten cups of coffee for you already!”
“Your point, Miss Y/L/N?”
“My point is ten cups of coffee and you’re going to make me go make another one?!”
“I’ll make you go get ten more if anything.”
“But the perfect cup apparently doesn’t exist in your world, my kind and generous boss.”
“Oh, the first cup you made was already perfect.”
“WHAT? THEN WHY—”
“You never asked.”
“I swear to—”
“Profanities are completely unprofessional, Y/N.”
“You say it all the time—.”
“My company. My rules.”
“Such a dick.”
“Right back at you.”
“One perfect cup of coffee please, Miss Y/L/N?”
“I-I totally forgot what the first cup had.”
“Ten more cups it is then.”
Sehun chuckled at the grumbling and the fit as you made your way out of the office for the eleventh time.
Yes, he teased you. Yes, he’d experienced every single level of sass. Yes, he’d held every single little argument. But without the teasing, the sassiness, and the little arguments nothing felt normal. Whatever he and you had was weird but he was so used to it. He was happy.
Sehun missed it.
Sehun missed you.
Sehun cared about you.
But you felt otherwise about it all.
Something in him snapped.
“Okay,” you called and Sehun was then snatched back to reality, “I’m pretty sure I have everything, I just need to check with the others, and I’ll be out—
“Do you want to leave that badly?”
You immediately halted at your steps with the sound of his voice and the realization of what he’d just said, “Sorry?”
“I’m sure you heard me well, Y/N,” Sehun only said with eyes still glued to the cup of coffee on the table.
You’d heard him well, that was more than certain, the question was just—“I can’t see why I’d have to answer.”
“But I want to know your answer,” Sehun said back almost immediately. He was now facing you and your two pairs of eyes locked, Sehun couldn’t tell what expression you had on, neither could you. His voice was monotone yet each word was so stern.
You raised your brows at so, “Mr. Oh—”
“‘Mr. Oh?’” Sehun repeated what you’d just said, his shoulders tensed at the words, the formality. “You never call me that.”
“We’re no longer colleagues. I don’t see why I should address you in another way.”
Sehun simply stared at you for what seemed like to longest seconds, his expression still unreadable.
“Answer my question,” he said once again, this time, the slightest bit softer with his locked gaze following the same manner.
“I don’t need to answer your question,” you shook your head.
Either that it was easily missed or that you were seeing things, but for a fraction of a second hurt flashed across Sehun’s eyes.
“What if I need your answer?”
“Y/N, do you seriously want to leave that badly?—”
“Don’t you?” You cut him off before he could fully finish his sentence.
“Don’t you want me to leave?”
Sehun opened his mouth to speak although all that came out were pathetic little shocks of air, “I…I—”
You laughed,“I don’t get it.” You stripped your gaze away from your ex-boss, deciding that eye contact was not necessary.“I don’t get why you’re asking me these questions.”
You didn’t get his out-of-the-blue question.
You didn’t get how much he insisted for your answer.
You shook your head with eyes still on the tiles beneath your feet. Even if you couldn’t see Sehun, you could feel his eyes on you as you continued, “You’ve despised me all this time, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”
No words could be heard, not even a sound. It was absolutely silent. But it had to be the loudest and most suffocating silence a human could ever experience.
You didn’t get the hurt that flashed across his eyes.
You didn’t get how he ‘needed’ your answer.
“It’s for the best, either way,” you finally said after you had enough of the pregnant silence in the cold office room. You gathered your stuff, putting away everything you could in one box before picking it up and deciding that the rest you could just ask someone to grab later on. You hurriedly strutted towards the door and with your hand landing on the knob—
“Wait,” you heard the man say after not hearing his voice for solid minutes, “Where are you going?”
You didn’t hesitate when you turned the knob and said, “I’m leaving.”
Although out of all the things you didn’t get_
The one thing you most certainly didn’t make any sense to you was the strange pain you felt within you very the moment you stepped out of Oh Sehun’s office…
This was once again a moment at which Sehun asks himself ‘why?’
Why does he feel his own heart shattering?
**THIS IS NOT THE END**
Yes, there will be another and it will be fluffy dO NOT WORRY I KNOW YOU ALL ALREADY HATE ME. I had to post this first because I need your guys’ help! I’m having trouble writing the fluff part esp Y/N’s feelings. SO a huge favor I need from you all is to go drop by my ask box and say what your interpretation of Y/N’s character in this scenario is (ex: she’s really shy but she really wants to put herself out there and sing etc etc…) Like by the way I’ve described Y/N what description had you gather for her? I KNOW THIS IS REALLY WEIRD BC SHOULDN’T I KNOW WHAT MY OWN CHARACTER IS LIKE? But what I’ve written so far I’m afraid will not go with the image I’d already put out there and it won’t flow well/won’t make any sense. It’ll be so helpful if you do! Thank you! :)
Nothing. I had nothing. I thought I would be able to paint the view that I had seen earlier in Nesta’s room however, I couldn’t quite remember the shades of colors of the water or the look of the beach and my view was utterly pathetic. Buildings and shops and restaurants filled with people dressed in swimwear. I liked more nature views with very minimal people or disturbances thus rendering my view useless.
I got out my sketchpad again and saw the very rushed drawing I did of the eyes of the man from the plane. They really were magnificent and they were so blue they appeared violet. So far I hadn’t quite found the right color to replicate them but maybe when I got back home I would try again. As I was just lifting my pencil to start another piece a knock came at the door.