#implied romance
Text
Dancing With Visions - Wish to Dance - Slow Waltz - Neuvillette
Author Notes: This is the fourth fic for my "Dancing with Visions" fic series for Genshin Impact! The slow waltz, also called the English waltz, is one of the more famous styles of ballroom dancing. It is, as the name implies, slower than the Viennese Waltz. This fic was largely inspired by the dance scene from the 2015 film "Crimson Peak." I've never actually seen the movie, but I did really like the scene after watching it on Youtube. Just like the rest of this series, reader is female. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more of this series, the fics can be found here: Dancing with Visions Masterlist.
Type: Female reader/ Implied romantic/ fluff/ dance/ sfw
Word Count: 1609
Fontaine was ever a glittering world of drama, comedy, and theatrics. This was true even in their celebrations. Supposedly respectful and filled with the elegance of old as couples swirled amongst each other in rhythmic motions. Dancing through the brightly lit room just like the fish that swam in the sea that surrounded the nation of Justice.
It was a beautiful sight. Like something out of a play or magnificent story where two lovers would meet one another and share their first dance. But then perhaps that was just your more romantic side talking.
It was interesting to see everyone dancing together, though. The knowledge that similar motions occurred to the same song even though there were feelings in each dancer’s heart had a smile appearing on your face as you watched people spiral around the floor.
Off to the side, you could see Furina watching over the spectacle from a wall, much like you were. One of her hands was raised as if she herself were directing the music and bidding people to dance as they felt moved to. And there was a certain longing to dance with the atmosphere that filled the place, even though you hung back in a manner similar to the former archon. Watching in silence instead of joining the people around you, despite any temptation you felt.
Because, for better or worse, despite the glittering lights, beautiful music, and smiling faces, Fontaine was a nation of judgment just as much as it was a nation of justice.
It wasn’t that you feared others' judgment when dancing was a thing to be enjoyed, but you also didn’t really think you could bear it if you were to mess up in front of so many people.
So you watched, swaying slightly along with the music but holding back and watching as your more talented peers danced across your gaze. Shining brightly as they spiraled through the light cast by the grandiose chandelier overhead.
And it wasn’t as if you and Furina weren’t the only ones not dancing. You could see Charlotte off to the side, taking pictures. Aiming her camera towards where Navia spiraled across the floor in someone’s arms. A bright smile on her face. The perfect choice for the cover of whatever story Charlotte was going to be doing on this evening’s dance that was so filled with the who's-who of Fontaine.
Similarly, Clorinde stood off to the side. No doubt standing guard even as she watched her blonde-haired friend captivate the entire ballroom, including yourself.
So caught were you in the sight of everyone’s beautiful motions, smiling faces, and the glittering spectacle that you almost missed the sight of the man who was crossing the room towards where you stood.
Almost, but not quite.
You felt your eyes widen slightly as you looked towards where Neuvillette was carefully navigating his way through the room to where you stood. He was someone who never seemed to partake in the dancing that occurred at these functions.
Like you, he seemed satisfied to just watch from where he would stand silently off to the side. And though you had always gotten along fairly well with Neuvillette, he never joined you where you stood. Instead, it seemed more like he preferred to watch in silence on his own, and you respected that.
Which was why you were surprised to see him approaching you and gave him your full attention as he emerged from the crowd to stand before you.
“Y/n,” He greeted you in that ever-calm tone of his, as if nothing could ever truly sway him. And you smiled slightly, inclining your head respectfully. Because even though you knew he preferred not to have anyone make such a big deal over his position as Iudex, it was best to behave as expected in such public environments.
What he did next startled you, though. Causing you to falter even before you could truly greet him as he held out his hand in a silent request.
You found yourself glancing around nervously, immediately noticing how Furina’s wide-eyed gaze shifted towards where you and Neuvillette stood. And all at once, people slowly started to notice what was occurring in your once quiet little corner of the ballroom.
“What are you doing?” Your voice was a hushed, uncertain whisper as your gaze flickered back to his, only to find him still looking at you with utter calm. Completely unbothered by the reactions of others.
But he was innately capable of standing apart from others and not letting his thoughts, actions, or judgements be swayed by what anyone else seemed to think. It was what made him so respected as Iudex, and it was one of the things that you admired about him.
“When a couple dances, their motions can become as fluid as those of water itself,” He paused, watching me silently as if waiting for a reaction before sighing slightly. “You always watch others dance, but never join them, and I find myself wondering, do you not wish to dance yourself?”
You blinked at his words, surprisingly on point despite the flowery language that had hid his meaning to start with, “I…. I do not think it would necessarily be wise for me to do so considering I am nowhere near as talented as others.”
You toyed with the skirt of your dress awkwardly as you hesitated before continuing, “Perhaps there is someone better suited to dancing with you. Such as Navia or someone else.”
You smiled at him carefully, knowing perfectly well how people would react to anyone dancing with Neuvillette. Much less yourself, someone known to stand on the outskirts of balls.
A smile flickered across his face, fast enough that you almost missed it, “Ah, but I did not ask Miss Navia or anyone else. I asked you.”
At his words, your gaze fell once more to his still-outstretched palm, your own hand lifting but hesitating just short of his before you at last let your fingers rest in his.
His fingers curled over and around yours easily, and he stepped backwards, slowly leading you out onto the dancefloor and completely ignoring the veritable swathe of people who immediately looked towards where you stood together. Slowly slipping into hold as your free hand reached up to his shoulder and his arm wrapped around you so that he could rest his hand on your back.
“Why?” Your voice was beyond hushed, but he still heard you. Tilting his head as he silently pushed you to continue. To explain your question.
So swallowing, you did. “Why are we doing this?”
His lips twitched as he inclined his head and spoke, “Because you deserve to enjoy these lights just as much as anyone else.”
You smiled at his words, half-amused as you met his gaze, “Even when this will most definitely cause people to talk?”
He stayed silent, and you found yourself frowning once more, “What if they start to talk about you? I know how you prefer to avoid the limelight and-”
Neuvillette shook his head at your words, cutting you off with the simple motion before he ever began to speak, “I’m not doing anything so strange. I am merely doing what any gentleman would. ”
He paused, straightening slightly as other dancers slowly began to take up their positions around the floor, their gazes staying on the two of you even as he continued, “People will talk no matter what I do, so let them talk.”
You smiled again at his words, touched by his meaning but still concerned that he was forcing himself, even as he inclined his head towards you, “Shall we?”
As if you could stop now, as the music began with both of you already in position and the eyes of everyone in the room on us. But you also knew that if you wanted to back out now, Neuvillette would agree.
You swallowed and nodded, “If you are certain that this is what you wish to do.”
He smiled at your words, a genuine expression that caused your eyes to widen slightly since, even though you’d spoken with him numerous times and had seen him smile before, it was still a surprise to see such an easy expression slip across the face of the man known all over as the respected Iudex.
“It is my honor,” And with only those words, he began to guide you into the motions of a gentle, spiraling dance that everyone in Fontaine knew.
A slow waltz. A simple dance that left room for conversation while still imparting the joys of dancing.
It was a dance that fit Neuvillette and had you relaxing into your interaction with him as you smiled. Because if there was any dance you were confident in doing, it was this one. Especially if Neuvillette was your partner. You knew he would never lead you astray.
You swirled around the room together, rising and falling to the distinctive tempo of the song like the ebb and flow of the sea itself and never faltering. Not even as you reached the very end and he released you to spin out from him so that you were only attached by one hand still held in his.
And you were surprised to see you weren’t looking at anyone else in the room as the onlookers politely began to applaud for all who had danced. Instead, your eyes were on Neuvillette as you smiled at him, and he held your gaze with a small smile of his own.
And as easily as that you realized that there was no one else you would rather waltz with.
If you would like to read more:
Previous
Next
#Genshin Impact Imagines#Neuvillette x reader#Genshin#Genshin Impact x Reader#Neuvillette#Dancing with Visions#fic series#mywritings#it-happened-one-fic#Genshin x reader#female reader#fluff#implied romance#waltz#slow waltz#english waltz#Crimson Peak#Neuvillette x you#Neuvillette x y/n#Genshin Impact x you#Genshin Impact x y/n#Genshin x you#Genshin x y/n#fontaine
128 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello. If you're still taking applications, I've got one for Dan Phantom or Dark Danny.
(Perhaps it will be considered as more than one, choose what you consider good. And excuse my English, it is not my native language)
I would like the reader to be a woman (with black hair and silver eyes) as the theme of the daughter of the goddess Nyx (I don't remember if there were Greek gods in the series), that the reader be a supernatural creature that sometimes visits the ghost kingdom and she had become friends with the good Danny. About 20 looking.
Where when starting to go to Dark Danny's prison for his rehabilitation and sentence, they do not get along. But then over time they become fond of each other and Dan shows his affection by giving soft bites on the cheeks. (I remember a friend's cat did that when he was in confidence).
It would be fun to see little Danny's reaction when he sees the fang marks.
(If he considers something more spicy I leave it in his hands, something does not come to my mind, maybe bites on the shoulders)
Major apologies for the wait (¤﹏¤) I was a little stuck on this to be honest, since a lot of ideas were thrown in.
But, fear not, I cobbled a couple of them together since they seemed the most interesting.
Genre: Gen + Implied Romance
Rating: K+
Content Warnings: Mildly spicy near the end, nothing explicit
Words: 2.5k+
An ominous miasma surrounds you as you gracefully glide your way through the spectral realm. A dark veil clings to your slender body, barely distinguishable, and flows like liquid suspended in the air. It was but a scratch on the surface of what your powers were truly like. Long nails brush away your midnight black hair to unveil your luminous silver eyes. Your hair ‘hugs’ your face as you carefully turn your head to survey your surroundings.
An amalgamation of toxic green energy pummels your senses.
Pulsating. Thrashing.
Rocky ruins and islands obstruct your view. Eerie purple doors and windows barely flash in your peripheral vision. Whispers faintly flow into your ears. You involuntarily shiver yet you still barely react.
You can feel it all around. The tug and pull of chaotic energy, the anarchy of the Ghost Zone claws at you. You allow yourself to feel this energy, but at the same time, quash it when it becomes too much.
You sigh quietly. Not a spectre to be seen, it was expected.
Order and chaos.
Chaos rings through your mind.
A sensation rises up in your chest, your heart thuds erratically. Your body shivers violently as your conscience latches onto the thought. A beautiful, divine force from which you were born from. From a mother who was the personification of the night, an offspring of chaos.
It was fortunate you didn’t visit the Ghost Zone often. It wasn’t like you needed to, but a want. A warm, familiar sensation wiggles up into your chest. Too much exposure would have had…unfavourable results. That was the best you could describe it without the complicated details.
You were in this spectral dimension for one reason, and one reason only. Otherwise, you would be wasting time. It was the same every single time, rhythmic and never changing. Your mind could hardly draw any details of the last time your visit was deviated from a specific goal. It worked out perfectly for you.
There wasn’t much in the Ghost Zone that interested you. Except for one individual. You sigh softly as you land silently on a huge chunk of rock. Despite your exasperation of visiting this realm, you always got something out of it. Your eyes peer around with barely concealed eagerness in search of a familiar form.
It didn’t matter how much time passed. He retained that familiarity as he did as a boy long ago. He says that part of him died, but you sincerely doubt that. You could always feel the turmoil boiling inside him, the storm of emotions clashing with each other.
Another sigh blows out of your mouth. He always rejected your help, curiously he never rejected your presence.
A small smile makes itself known on your expression as it tugs at your facial muscles. Not necessarily hope, rather that he was still here and grounded. The fact that a small part of him remained, no matter how much he suppressed it. You didn’t dare push it, though.
You didn’t possess any sort of “ghost sense” whatsoever, so it was going to be impossible to tell when he was here. If he was even nearby at all. You always had quite the trip whenever of the two of you met up. He wasn’t the type to stay in one place for long.
Especially considering the power he had and the danger he posed. There was always an innate sense of danger whenever he was in the vicinity. You were not repelled by it, it was a constant thing for you, and it felt natural to you. The goosebumps you’d get were almost relieving and cooling. It helps that your mother, Nyx, is a dangerous entity herself.
Your senses, you could say, were fine-tuned to danger; and dangerous.
He never struck out at you. You turn on your heels, still in search of him. His red eyes always pierced through you, no matter which direction. Your neck always prickled at the sensation of being watched, the hairs on your neck always stood right up.
He very much had the power to hurt you and would, if he wanted to. You always took care to not provoke him and give him space when he needed it.
You crane your neck to glance behind you. A skintight awareness comes over you as your primordial senses alert you. Your mind hasn’t quite caught on to it yet, deep down you know that something is watching. And it may very well be hungry.
Nearby, on another large chunk of rock, a black and white form greets your gaze. For a moment, a happy warmth swells in you. The dark veil around your body shifts in a different direction.
You stop, uncertainty flashes through you.
The figure remained silent, settled atop of the rock. Seemingly unaware of your presence. Too occupied with themselves to look up.
You inhale deeply in minute frustration. Not even a tiny peep from the figure. Contention fills the air, the Ghost Zone regulates to the background. The chaos within you calms, but occasionally ripples. You feel it in your muscles and your hands clench.
“So, her royal highness graces us with her presence once again.” A smooth, deep voice emerges from the figure.
“You know me better than that,” you state firmly, “Dan.”
The figure – Dan – finally perks up in attention to his name being called.
“Don’t I?” He challenges. “Takes a lot to rise up to godhood.”
His voice is like a hot knife cutting through butter. Warmth rushes up to your chest, you pay it little mind but remain aware of it.
Dan stands up, tall and proud. His physique enhanced by the eerie, spectral glow of the Ghost Zone. You also try to pay little mind to it, yet your eyes wander. Dan’s most striking feature is his hair, few spectres had their hair to that effect.
Flowing and ever-changing, much like Dan himself. Flames that ignite with every twitch, crackle with every shift in his mood.
“It’s a blessing and a curse,” you counter, irritation laces your tone. “You lack…integrity and understanding of godhood.”
The last sentence was a mild jab. Dan’s eyes narrowed; still a jab nonetheless.
“Am I not called ‘the evilest ghost on the planet’ for nothing?” Dan spreads his arms out, muscles flexing, gesturing at himself.
“Your circumstances are…unique.”
“‘Unique’ she says…” Dan folds his arms with a mutter. “You were born from a goddess, I would hardly call that…unique.”
The last word is drawn out, long enough to focus your attention on it. You two have had this argument before, it seems almost customary at this point. To broach a familiarity that wasn’t quite there. Finding a semblance of solace that it was still there.
It continuously mystifies you as to why you keep coming back to this debate. Auto-tuned arguments and comparisons of things that were not even comprehensibly comparable. You’d fire right back, Dan always finds a way to deflect it. Going around and around in a circle, and no one wins.
“We keep coming back to this argument, and it doesn’t change,” you say, not as irritably. It wasn’t necessarily about the subject itself. “What do you hope to get out of it?”
Dan merely grins with a small shrug. “It’s a little amusing seeing you get all huffy.”
A tight feeling scrunches up in your gut. Your voice is caught in your throat, your mouth refuses to move for several seconds.
“Would you rather I get upset?” You inquire tartly. Your gut untangles itself, which is a relief, but your throat retains that fuzzy, scratchy sensation.
“It’s not that,” Dan retorts. He does a little hop off of his rock and floats down to yours. He stops right in front of you, still floating. “You know what I mean, milady.”
You don’t respond right away, Dan is so close to you that you can feel the waves of warmth radiate off of him. It was as if the danger melts away, even if just for a moment. You sigh, again, it aggravates your throat.
You ignore it.
“Please tell me again why we keep meeting up?” You ask in exasperation. Your hands place themselves on your hips.
“You’d miss me,” Dan murmurs, his hand rises up and dangerously close to your face.
He hasn’t touched you at all, you feel the tingle of a familiar phantom caress. Firm and gentle fingers that would stroke your jawline and left a spark that had you yearn for more. Hands that wanted the affection to chip away years of being touch starved. They pull away, every single time. The spark that remains eventually turns into a sting, fresh and raw on the surface of your skin.
“Wouldn’t…” You start off hesitantly; your voice quickly fades. “I…?”
Dan gives you a pointed look, disbelieving.
“Why else would you keep coming back here?” He asks knowingly, he pulls away and lands elegantly on the rocky surface. “You never want something without a good reason.”
“Curses…” You whisper to yourself. Dan always had a way of getting a reaction out of you. “Dan—you are dangerous, and…”
Your voice continues to falter. Something heavyset settles in your chest. Your facial expression grows soft.
“And…me?” Dan makes a ‘hm’ sound. “No need to say it, milady, I can see it on your face.”
Dan then turns his head away, gaze averting and pretending he doesn’t see you. Subconsciously, one of his hands rubs his wrist in discomfort. Strong enough to soothe pain and not accidentally crush the joint. Now that you actually have a closer look at him…
Something you didn’t see before, are a pair of metal cuffs on both wrists. Glowing brightly with green and worn down. Broken chains dangle from them, swinging back and forth with a silent story.
“Are those shackles?” You ask incredulously. You admit, it was difficult to imagine Dan in restraints like that.
“Why, yes, they are.” Dan grins down at you, his hand now motionless. “Care to try them on?”
You raise a brow unamused, “What did you do now?”
“The ‘being evil’ part, or the ‘being annoying’ part? I think there’s a difference…” Dan answers nonchalantly with a shrug.
“Quit redirecting me and get to the point.”
“Very well… I let myself get caught.” A dramatic sigh escapes his mouth.
“You—what?” Whatever you were about to say dies in your mouth as your mind processes what Dan just said.
“Walker had been trying to catch me for years, he never did because he knew I was too powerful for him.” Dan explains. His hand starts fidgeting with the cuff.
You remain silent and attentive; his story did mildly intrigue you, despite whatever trouble Dan causes.
“Never seen him as happy and surprised as he was when he saw me being ‘escorted’ by his goons,” Dan says with a sneer. His fangs shine in the spectral light. “He was definitely not expecting his precious prison to go up in ecto flames, either. Hah, I even left him exactly one prison cell undamaged.”
The memory of the warden’s shock and utter rage brings a genuine smile to Dan’s face. You aren’t sure what to make of it. It seems so bright on his face that you can’t help but feel the underlying ominousness of it.
A creak of metal rips your attention from Dan. The cuffs that were clasped a tad too tight around Dan’s wrists fall to the surface with a pathetic thud. Not a second too later, a kick off the rock sends them into the murky abyss below.
Dan turns back to you, his eyes shine brightly.
“Now…where were we?”
“We were talking about you,” you answer with uncertainty.
“About us,” Dan counters in clarification.
He comes close to you once again, you don’t react or move; he raises his hands to take your own into his. Lightning shoots through your nerves at the touch. You become stiller, focusing on the warmth that encapsulates you.
Dan pulls you close, your face merely inches from his. Your bodies lightly brush each other, enough to make of the both of you shiver.
What goes unspoken rises up between the two of you, palpable in the air. As thick as the ectoplasm that makes up the Ghost Zone. You become too aware of Dan’s breath on your face, just as he is aware of yours on his.
“Do you want something?” You ask with a small bite to your lips.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Dan’s voice lowers to a rough whisper.
His muscular form leans in closer, it gives the impression that he is much larger than you are. You have little choice but to gaze into his piercing red eyes. You hold your breath as you feel them examine you.
It’s not long before you gasp, your throat unclenches in relief. The barest of something sharp lightly touches your cheek. Just enough to pinch you and leave no mark. Your cheek stings with anticipation and a rising blush.
Dan draws away with a small grin. His fangs are more prominent than you can recall.
“You, are ridiculous,” you say slowly, the words coming out in soft breaths. “I can’t help but admire you for it.”
You turn away to gather yourself for a second. You hadn’t intended to be so forward like that, though it was freeing to ease up the tightness in your chest.
“I’m flattered you think so highly of me,” Dan comments behind you.
A pair of strong hands grip your shoulders, you tense up only for a moment before you relax. They’re careful to not squeeze you so hard, you know you can pull away any time you like. You can feel the tension seep into your body, numb almost, and the hands hold you up.
Soft lips slowly ease themselves on to the back of your neck. You inhale deeply, Dan’s name on the tip of your tongue. You refrain from moaning out loud, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
His hands start massaging your shoulders as his lips gently nip and kiss their way down. Tingle after tingle grows stronger with every breath against your back.
“Perhaps…” You say softly, glancing behind you. “I can make an exception…for an old friend.”
You hear Dan make a sound of satisfaction. His lips stop at your shoulder, he takes a breath. Then a soft, warm breeze blows on you. You twitch as your skin tickles in response.
“Do ‘old friends’ do…this?” Dan asks, his voice rough.
A sharp prick on your shoulder has you tilt your head back. You don’t need to look to know what it is, the tips of a set of fangs. They barely graze the surface of your flesh, a pleasurable burn wells in place.
Noting your ease of letting him so close to you, Dan invites himself closer. One of your hands eventually holds his, a silent plea. He smirks victoriously.
Neither of you can see each other’s smiles when Dan lowers his head. His fangs glint in the light, you move your head to expose your neck. Warmth surrounds you in a haze.
Sharp fangs at first graze your skin, tasting you. Seconds later, a piercing sensation that draws itself out makes you tense. Your breath catches in your throat, a groan threatens to erupt from it. Your chest swells and ripples with passion, a taste nearly foreign and intoxicating.
You wouldn’t have it any other way; just like the old times.
#danny phantom#fanfiction#dan phantom#character x reader#female reader#dan phantom x reader#dan phantom x female reader#tumblr writers#fanfiction community#dark danny#gen fic#implied romance#fanfiction blog#phanfic#dp fic#danny phantom fanfiction
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
AoNoSummer2023 Day 19 - Vendor 😘🎟️
As part of an assignment for a summer festival being held at True Cross to raise money for local charities, all the students open up specific booths, and Shima opens a kissing booth with unexpected results…
#AoNoSummer2023#ao no exorcist#aoex#aoex fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#blue exorcist#renzo shima#rin okumura#yukio okumura#noriko paku#shiemi moriyama#izumo kamiki#konekomaru miwa#ryuuji suguro#comedy#implied romance#crushes#implied Yukishima and ShimaRin#I had fun writing this piece
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
prompt # 134
The moon danced around the earth, watching her beauty, chaotic and full of glorious life... and when the time came, it fell into the earth’s pull gladly.
#prompt#writing prompt#writing idea#writing inspiration#POV you are a storyteller#POV you are an astrologer#an immortal who's seen the rise and fall of whole galaxies#meets a small child whose fate is yet undecided#found family#implied found family#implied romance#hi#it's been a while
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Friend in Need- 4
summary: On the brink of death, Xiao seeks out Aether.
contains: general injury whump, graphic descriptions of injuries. illness and effects of poison.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
The grass that dotted the peaks of Huaguang Stone Forest had the same consistency of threads of fine silk. It was one of Aether’s favorite aspects of Liyue, the environment itself seemed like it was infused with something mystical (and, if local folklore was to be believed, it was). The wind was brisk at this altitude, but after an entire afternoon of being in the hot sun, it was a welcome relief to Aether.
Xiao was perched atop the rock face beside Aether, steely gaze fixed on the horizon. Aether found that Xiao seemed to prefer high places, whether it be the tops of mountains, or the roof of Wangshu Inn. He was always scouting for something, vigilantly waiting for the next threat to arrive, so he needed to be at a high vantage point.
Aether flashed a sad smile at Xiao. Xiao wasn’t looking at him.
There was a festival going on in a village near the area, celebrating the summer solstice. Xiao was especially on guard during times like this, as he claimed that festivals were the most common time that monsters claimed fatalities.
“The environment causes people to let their guard down, whether from carelessness, or the influence of wine. Before the fools even realize it, they’re already surrounded,” he had said bitterly.
Aether could see a few lantern lights below them, evidence of the festivities. He wanted to tell Xiao that his fears were unwarranted, as he had encountered Chongyun, Xingqiu, and Xiangling on the way to the village. Between the three of them, Aether wasn’t sure what monster would stand a chance. Hell, he had even heard Ganyu took time out of her busy schedule to attend with Yanfei. That festival was probably one of the safest places in Liyue right now.
Aether tucked the blanket he had placed over Paimon closer to her chin. She was sleeping on the ground beside him, using his bag as a pillow. He spared another glance at Xiao, touching the cloth pouch that was resting in his palm. Aether examined the contents, one more time, to steady his nerves.
He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, it was just a simple pendant he had picked up from a craftsman at Liyue Harbor- a chunk of raw Noctilucous Jade, wrapped in wire and placed on a leather cord.
At this point, Xiao had saved his ass more times than he could count, and Aether wanted to do something to let him know he cared about him. It was trivial, sure, but Aether thought Xiao deserved something small, a gift that was normal. It seemed every interaction they had was marked by either one or both of their lives being in danger. Aether was still shaken by Xiao’s suicidal stunt at the Chasm.
Aether scaled the rock face with the ease of a cat, helping himself to the empty space beside Xiao.
“It’s really pretty out here tonight, huh?” Aether said letting his hands rest in his lap. His legs dangled over the edge, feeling the tickle of wind on the loose fabric of his pants.
In contrast, Xiao was not sitting, instead balancing on the pads of his feet in a crouch. Even in the low light, Aether could see Xiao’s muscles were tense, coiled like a spring that was primed to release at any moment.
Xiao stayed silent in response, but the slight twitch of his eyes in Aether’s direction let him know his presence had been noted. He could hear Xiao’s even breaths, a gentle rhythm in the otherwise quiet night. It was nice, to simply exist in each other’s presence.
It was times like these that made something in Aether’s chest ache, as he became acutely aware he needed something more. Seeing Xiao for the first time in months only to spent it on a stakeout was agonizing.
The two had been to hell and back more than enough times, and not even once had he witnessed Xiao dropping his guard. He’d seen the Shogunate soldiers regard each other more causally. All he could think about was if Xiao even thought of him as more than a passing acquaintance. Suddenly the pendant in his palm felt very heavy, and very silly.
Finally, Aether spoke, taking a chance and walking out on a proverbial limb. “I think we should go down and check out the festival, what do you say?”
“I saw no reason to suspect there had been sabotage from within the festival,” Xiao replied bluntly. He said it so matter-of-factly, that, had it been from anyone else, Aether would have taken it as a deadpan joke.
“Well I… That’s not what I meant, Xiao. I meant, like, actually attending it. We’ve been at this for hours. It looks like there’s some fun stalls set up, maybe there’s still time to catch a show? I heard Yunjin’s troupe will be making an appearance-”
“We can’t,” Xiao interjected in a breathy rasp, “I detected faint traces of Hilichurl activity in this area some days ago. They will be attracted to the smell of food. We must stay here to prevent any possible ambush.”
Aether reached out a hand, only for Xiao to swerve out of his touch. Whatever shaky peace that had fallen over them dissipated. Xiao was back on his feet, knuckles gripped around his spear.
For a moment, Aether had almost deluded himself into believing this had been a late-night rendezvous between two perfectly normal people leading perfectly normal lives.
“It’s no good to stay in one place,” Xiao finally uttered, “It’s approaching midnight. Monster activity will be increasing. We should split up, I’ll take the north, you go south.” These were curt words between fellow soldiers, not a moment shared with someone you loved.
Aether rose to meet him, an objection beginning to form on his lips. “Xiao, listen-” The words died before they came to fruition. Xiao was already gone, disappearing into a cloud of dark vapor.
——
It’s too hot.
Xiao’s consciousness ebbed and flowed to the rhythm of the pounding in his head. He was vaguely aware that he was lying down somewhere, somewhere soft. Pressure weighed down on his chest, the source of the painful throbbing that stretched across his entire body. And, most of all, a miserable heat clung to him, burning behind his eyeballs and drying out his mouth.
Immediately, a single thought gripped his heart- he can’t be laying down like this, out in the open and vulnerable to attack. He had to get up, assess his situation, and keep moving.
Xiao’s head flopped weakly to one side, his cheek supported by one of the pillows stacked nearby. Fever made his eyelids far heavier than they should be, and he could only barely make out a dark shape at his side. For a moment, he flinched, but relaxed when he realized he sensed no killing intent.
Ah, Xiao thought, of course.
As creatures dedicated to exterminating evil, it wasn’t uncommon for he and his fellow Yaksha to injure themselves in combat. During those times, Bosacius always became particularly restless, keeping a close vigil at the bedsides of his comrades.
Fighting the exhaustion pinning down his limbs, Xiao reached out his fingers, clumsily groping for the hand that rested on his arm.
He was struck by how small the hand was. Unlike Bosacius’s massive, clawed hands, the fingers were slim and almost dainty. If Bosacius wasn’t at his side, who was? Indarius? Bonanus, perhaps?
Triggered by the thought, memories rushed to the surface. War, karma, agony, death… the realization settled in his stomach like a stone. He was the only Yaksha left.
Xiao’s eyes opened further, trying to identity the figure through the pulsating haze of fever. Golden hair materialized before him, and Xiao felt an involuntary sigh escape from his lips.
Aether.
That was the only permission Xiao’s body needed to relax, the weariness creeping back up upon him through his bones. With his last bit of strength, Xiao gave Aether’s hand a squeeze, soaking in the relief the gentle warmth of his skin offered. Xiao felt himself sink back into dreamless slumber, a sense of contentment he hadn’t felt in centuries spreading over him.
#genshin impact#genshin xiao#whump#hurt/comfort#victors writing#romance#at least kinda#implied romance
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Delirious
There is static in his ears.
There is smoke and fire and screaming all around him. It’s loud and wild and claustrophobic all at once which is strange in such a big forest. But -
Reynir is looking right at him.
There is a pungent smell in the air and bones and sinews and black masses of horror strewn around him like a morbid oil painting. It’s wild, it mad, it’s sick and there is red. So much red, he can’t tell where it begins or ends or where it comes from.
But he’s looking right at him.
The look on his face is so cross and frightened and – and he’s here. The same pale grey, and cheekbones and furs that Lalli has with a bow and arrow at his hip. He has so many questions, he’s not sure how he’ll voice them all. But he has to, even if it’s just one answer he'll get. Just one word. He has to. This is what the weeks of searching was leading up to.
The staves he manifested are shrinking and oh norns – if Onni ever thinks of leaving his sight again Reynir feels like he’s going to lose it.
His hands are shaking, and his breathing is heavy as he glows still, all pent up with frustration and anger and fear all at once. Ninety years of the world’s dirty rotten secrets are still coming from the shadows and he feels small. Oh, so small in the middle of it.
His stave grows as he sees sharp teeth jumping at him, his short sword raised. The screeching is loud, and the mask digs into his skin. Someone shouts but he can’t for the life of him tell who it is. Not for the first time he’s forced to face his own mortality in the silent wilderness and his skin prickles with the same fear he felt like that night in the cabin, when the floorboards had caved and let the dark in.
He swings his knife and the stave grows, bright and strong in the dim light. Somewhere through the screeches and shouts and static he thinks he can hear someone singing.
-
Reynir wakes with a start.
The shadows on the walls creep up at him like trolls in the night and he jerks upright pulling himself from sleep. His body aches and it’s hazy and he can still hear the ringing in his ears.
His vision shifts from the trolls, to the lush fields of his dream world, to Onni and back again.
It takes a while to register the bodies around him – they are alive and breathing – but one stands out to him the most. He sits across from them in a corner, trying very hard to be smaller and not be seen. He stiffens when he notices Reynir shift and doesn’t acknowledge him.
He thinks he looks weary and stretched paper thin.
Reynir’s voice is terribly hoarse when he calls out to him and drags himself over. His body protests at the movements and the world tilts as he collapses in front of him, gripping at his clothes like a lifeline.
He makes it clear to him with the last of the energy he can muster, that he’s not going anywhere again. Not without him, or Lalli or anyone else.
Never again.
It’s a long time before he feels Onni move against him and start to feel less rigid. He’s silent and his hesitant hands gently brush his hair from his face and his lips barely brush his.
Reynir is halfway back into his fantasy of the large green fields and the gold washed wooden walls of the camp to properly see him but he manages to smile as he feels Onni continue to run his hand through his hair.
He thinks he can still hear him sing.
It’s him, it’s him, it’s him –
#stand still stay silent#Reynir Árnason/Onni Hotakainen#reynir arnason#onni hotakainen#kiss#magic overuse#Implied Relationships#implied romance#writing#writing community
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 8: Alt. Prompt - “I love you”
Angst, past trauma, identity issues, crying, implied romantic/sexual relationship, implied past noncon [not between the presented characters], referenced scars
[Follows Retire]
He tensed under Jackson, the older man still tracing shapes across East’s bared chest where they lay in bed. It was still early, rain pattering outside their apartment window and the sleepy London streets below were yet to fill with the morning rush.
East let the memory pass - cruel hands and voices drenched in ecstasy telling him the same thing as he bled and bruised for them. His breathing stuttered, but Jackson kissed his shoulder.
A reminder of worse times. A reassurance those times had passed.
“No you don’t.” East whispered in reply, voice husky with sleep. Jackson shifted, lifting his head from his partner’s shoulder to fix him in those steely gray eyes.
“What did you say, love?”
“You don’t love me.”
“I don’t think you get to tell me how I feel about you.” Jackson rolled his eyes as his crows feet pinched with a smile. “I love you.”
There it came again, a tide of phantom hands and hazy pain and the taste of another man’s cigarette. East rolled over, his back to Jackson as his partner sat up in surprise.
“Love, what’s wrong?” The hand that pressed gently against the faded scars across his back was real. East grounded himself to the touch, a single point of heat and life against his scarred skin.
“You don’t love me. You love East.” Jackson couldn’t love who he had been Before. What he had been Before. But the patient hand on his back was soft, rubbing small circles over the ridges of healed scars.
“I love East. And whoever survived long enough for me to meet him. And whoever stays behind if he ever leaves.” Jackson’s breath was warm, curling in East’s ear before he planted a kiss on his throat. East could hardly feel it, the old burns too deep and the scar tissue too thick.
“You shouldn’t.” His voice was small, broken and begging as though Jackson would break him. Perhaps he would. Perhaps he already had.
“I don’t take orders from you, love.” Jackson’s arm wrapped over East’s side, draped across his broad chest, voice teasing. But now, his voice grew soft, sincere and open. “Do you want me to leave? I will - but you need to tell me, if that’s what you want.”
“Stay.” East whispered, feeling hot tears well in his half open eyes. He didn’t deserve Jackson. Jackson didn’t deserve him. But he was a selfish monster, so he took what he was given, and would hold tight to it as long as he could.
[Before Waiting]
(Part of my Freelancers: Boy Meets World series)
#whump#angst#past trauma#identity issues#implied romance#implied past noncon#scars#febuwhump#febuwhump2024#febuwhumpday8#woe. old man yaoi be upon ye. (wolf's like. mid40s so hes not that old. Jackson's the foxy senior citizen here. you love to see it)#i've been writing abt wolf's canon escape from the project lately like *biting drywall* you don't understand the bond he has with Jackson#ngl i could have sworn today was the 9th. it's been a long week ough.
1 note
·
View note
Text
A Taste of Sweetness
"The facts of the case seemed clear cut. And yet, they still called on him, Xavier thought idly, resting his head on his palm. He flipped through the papers before sighing, placing the folder down and looked around the station indifferently. Why the local police couldn't solve this on their own, he didn't know."
Or, A renowned detective is called to a small town to investigate the murder of one Carl Prescott. Unfortunately, the town of Falinton holds many secrets, most deeper than he would ever know. Will he solve the case and keep his perfect record clean or face his first failure?
WC: 5509
CW: Minor Character Death, murder, description of a corpse
August 6th, 1985
The facts of the case seemed clear cut. And yet, they still called on him, Xavier thought idly, resting his head on his palm. He isn't yet sure why he came for such a simple case. Perhaps it was because he was bored, he hadn’t had any cases delivered to him in some time. He’d have to talk to his assistant about that, he noted as he popped a piece of gum in his mouth.
He flipped through the papers before sighing, placing the folder down and looked around the station indifferently. Why the local police couldn't solve this on their own, he didn't know. He shouldn't have agreed so quickly. The shabby motel bed he slept in caused his back to ache fiercely, he thought grimacing internally as he rubbed his lower back. Spotting one of the officers walking by, Xavier quickly flagged him down.
As the officer approached, he spoke, “Yes, Detective Garcia?” The officer was dressed in the standard uniform, pressed neatly and without a wrinkle in sight. His fluffy brown hair peeking out from his peaked black cap. Those bright eyes of his peering at him.
“Think you could take me down to the scene, officer…” he paused, looking at the officer questioningly.
“Ah! Jason Wan, sir.” Officer Wan smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wouldn't mind guiding you. This is an important case.”
“Officer Wan. Yes, well, let's get on with it then. I'm sure you have things to do after.” Xavier stood up, gathering the folder in his hand and tucking it under his arm as he grabbed his coffee cup. His exaggerated ‘lead the way’ received an amused huff.
The drive didn't take long. It wasn't a very large town, after all, just barely reaching 3,000 people total. He had been told it was a tight knit community, but this murder proved otherwise.
Driving into the driveway, you could tell the owner enjoyed himself. The house was large, four stories high and elegant pillars holding a tasteful balcony, a large garden curving around the house. A smaller building lay beside it, to hold any tools the owner would need, he reckoned. The inside was just as lavish. Paintings hung on the walls, lined with gold or gems, and a bejeweled chandelier hung above them. It wasn’t something you would expect for such a small town. Hm.
The illusion was broken by the yellow and black tape surrounding the hallway. There were still little cards numbering anything thought of as evidence laying about. Crossing over the tape alongside officer Wan, he took in the scene. An ornate bedroom, drapes flowing due to the open windows. There were small trinkets here and there, you could tell that they costed a pretty penny.
Stepping inside, he slowly tracked across the room, looking for any little clue that he could find. Officer Wan shifted in place, watching him like a hawk when he began opening drawers and closets. Presumably to make sure he doesn’t pocket anything. There must have been a theft here recently, or else he wouldn’t have such an intense reaction, Xavier mused.
He was to close the inner closet’s door when he spotted a large wooden box at the top of the closet. Officer Wen had informed him earlier that they hadn't gone too deep in Carl Prescott’s possessions in respect of his privacy. This must have been one they missed. He dragged the box closer and lifted it, almost tipping over from the unexpected weight.
Dropping the heavy box onto the bed—which officer Wen made a face at— he unlatched the lock and opened it. Inside were rows and rows of cassette tapes. Pulling one out, it read ‘June 19th, 1985’. About two months ago. Looking up at officer Wan, he looked equally surprised at the appearance of the cassette tapes.
“Any chance your group confiscated a tape recorder?” Xavier asked.
“Oh! Let me just…” Officer Wan shuffled around the room, “It was right around… here!” He held up the tape recorder, making his way back to Xavier’s side, a smile gracing his lips.
Placing the tape inside, they began the recording.
‘Today is June 19th, 1985. Around 7:00 pm, just as always. The weather was quite nice today, not too cold or too warm. I arrived at my appointment with ten minutes to spare. Doctor Moore was quite pleased with that. He gave me my injection and we finished early. I think he was glad he had a break so soon, god knows that man loves to slack off. I met with Dan after. He was heading towards the market before we bumped into each other—’
They stopped the recording there, before pulling out another one and slipping it into the tape recorder.
‘The date is July 1st, 1985. I've checked, it's 7:06 exactly. I had a lovely breakfast, fried eggs with cucumbers and bacon on the side. It was absolutely delicious. The mail had arrived but it had nothing important. Onto better news, Bianca said she would be harvesting the honey soon! I am quite excited. After all, her honey is always amazing. I don't know what I would do without it. The quality is just different than any that is store bought—’
It seemed that Carl Prescott would rather record his diary than write it. Or at least, that's what it seemed to be, a record of his daily life. Officer Wan gave no indication that the police knew of this little hobby when Xavier asked.
He searched the room once more, just in case he spotted something he hadn't earlier, before leaving to check out the other rooms of the house. Though it seemed he didn't have much time to do so, he thought as he looked out a passing window. It was beginning to become evening and he still hadn’t gone around to interviewing the main suspect of the case and the caretaker that had found Carl’s corpse.
Checking out the rest of the rooms was quick. Those without personal belongings had been thoroughly searched so he didn't find anything substantial. The last room he had to search was the kitchen. It hadn’t yielded much, but with the amount of dishes in his fridge made with honey, you'd think he was a beekeeper. In his pantry too, there was a jar of honey, just slightly open. Reaching over to put the lid back on, he caught a whiff of it. It was almost like the standard honey, a sweet and syrupy scent and yet it smelled slightly… bitter? Why would it—?
“We are done, yes? We’ll have to get going if you still want to interview Dr. Moore and Mrs. Campbell.” Officer Wan interrupted.
“Oh! Yes, I hadn’t forgotten.” He can't believe he had gotten lost in thought just like that.
“Is there something wrong with that?” Officer Wan pointed towards the jar. Xavier had been staring deeply at it from his perspective, hadn't he? How embarrassing.
“No. Just not a fan of honey.” Xavier replied, quickly setting the jar down and covering it with the lid.
“Then I’m guessing you wouldn't be a fan of Ms. Taylor either.” Officer Wan chuckled, his eyes twinkling in mischief.
——
August 6th, 1985
The interview with the doctor and the caretaker was a bust, Xavier thought glumly. When the police officers thought Prescott died from an injection, the first person they suspected of the murder was his doctor, Blake Moore. It was known that Prescott had high blood pressure and that he took injections to combat it. The scars on his inner elbow and his recorded tapes proved that. When the doctor was investigated. There wasn't any evidence he tampered with the injection dose. They did find him selling some medicine off to the side but it only earned him a misdemeanor.
Not to mention the caretaker. She didn't have anything substantial to say about the case. She knew Prescott since he was a young boy, she used to babysit him lots, she said. She was close to him as they grew and eventually became close friends. It's why she was asked to take care of him before his sudden passing.
She did explain the frankly ridiculous amount of honey in the house, though. Apparently, the older Prescott got, the more of a sweet tooth he gained. He didn't want to eat anything unhealthy, so he experimented. Eventually, he struck gold with honey and ever since, he never stopped. He even managed to convince the caretaker, Mrs. Campbell, to incorporate it into a dish almost every day.
As nice of a story that was, it didn't bring anything of use to the case. That was why he was back at the police station, going through the files again and requesting authorization to examine the tapes he had found earlier in the day.
According to the case files, Carl Prescott died five days before he had arrived, on August 2nd. Before that, it was reported that Prescott had been acting differently. Confused and twitchy, as if he was on his last rope. It seemed that Prescott’s behavior had gotten significantly worse the closer to his passing he was.
When being inspected, his body had rashes all over the body along with pupils so dilated you could barely see what his eye color had been. His first thought upon seeing this case was that Prescott had been poisoned as the symptoms Prescott had experienced were a telltale sign of poisoning. But the local police want to rule that Prescott had passed from tampered medicine. Most likely because they couldn't believe that anyone would poison Prescott and they couldn't find any evidence of the poisoning. Xavier had heard that Prescott was a central part of the community in Falinton and was widely beloved.
There had to be a reason for Prescott’s death, though. Why would someone murder Prescott? What would the reason be? He had already had a background on Prescott, it was pretty ordinary for a civilian. Though… that house of his was pretty suspicious. In such a small town, how did he manage to have such a luxurious house like that? The surrounding neighborhoods—that he had seen—weren’t nearly as lavish. Plus, he had only moved to Falinton thirty years ago. That's not enough time to embellish a house like that. He would need to investigate that. The background he was given only had the bare bones of Prescott's life.
“So you're that famous detective? The one that solved the Mushroom Killer’s case?” A voice sneered down at Xavier. He startled a bit, not expecting to be torn from his thoughts.
“And you are?” Xavier asked, a thin polite smile stretched across his face. He set down the case files, folding his thin reading glasses and placing it on top.
The man’s eyebrow twitched, a frown beginning to settle on his face. He crossed his arms and replied, “Marcus Woolf, the lead officer in this case.” Oh? It seems someone’s ego has taken a hit because a detective was called. Hopefully, Woolf won't be too much of a bother.
Xavier angled his body towards Woolf, “Is there something you need me for?”, he asked pleasantly.
Woolf pursed his lips before answering, “Nothin’. Just introducing myself. We’ll be working together after all.”
“Well, then I’m pleased to meet you.” Silence hung in the space between them. “Is there anything else?” Xavier began tentatively before checking his watch. He hadn't realized how much time had passed while he was piecing together the case in his mind. “It’s a bit late and I have to go soon.”
A sour look crossed Woolf’s face before he took a step back. Tossing a “I’ll see you tomorrow.” over his shoulder before he strode away. Good. He greatly preferred officer Wan anyways. At least Wan was polite.
He organized the files on the desk he was using, jotting down some notes in the margins, and shoved them into his briefcase. He quickly stretched, feeling some bones popping, before shouldering his briefcase and headed to the door.
“See you tomorrow, Officer.” He gave a small wave to his—currently, he hadn't really met much of the local officers—favorite officer, Wan, and walked out of the building.
Hailing a taxi, he gave the driver the location of the motel and leaned back into the seat, watching the streets fly by. Hopefully, he would be given access to the tapes soon.
──── ∘°❉°∘ ────
August 7th, 1985
‘— she’s there, I know it! I’ve seen her! She's always at the edge of my vision, just standing there. Everytime!’ A quiet voice is heard in the background before the sound of shuffling is heard. ‘Blasted woman! Don't—’ The recording ended there.
Going through the tapes, there was an obvious pattern. The closer to his passing, the more incoherent Prescott became. He began talking about ‘her’ around six tapes before this one. It coincided with the timespan Mrs. Campbell had said that Prescott’s condition was deteriorating. This tape was recorded around a week before his death. He only had seven more tapes to go through. Hopefully Prescott would elaborate on who ‘she’ was.
The police station had authorized him to go through the tapes the day after he made the request. They must really want this case solved, Xavier mused as he removed the cassette tape and inserted the next.
The next few tapes contained the ramblings of an unwell old man. They just repeated the same thing over and over, that Prescott was being haunted by a part of his past. It was clear that the woman who he talked about in the tapes was someone who he had done ill to. He had alluded to harming her if you read between the lines, Prescott being surprisingly smart enough to avoid confessing his crime on tape even in his confused state.
He was listening with half an ear, speculating on who the woman being constantly brought up could have been, before he heard a name. Nadia. He hurriedly paused the recording and winded it back a couple seconds back.
‘—She’s here again. Just standing there. Watching. Nadia, please—’ Prescott’s voice cracked at that before pausing, the recording going quiet. Xavier stopped the record, mind whirling over the new information.
“Nadia?” Xavier murmured, rolling his chair over to the nearest computer. Typing in the name in the police site resulted in one result. Clicking on it, he was met with the smiling face of a young woman. Scrolling down, the name read Nadia Elin, deceased at 26. Last known residence… 314 Sandrow Drive. The same address of the late Carl Prescott. This can not be a coincidence. He knew the house was fishy but this… He would have to visit the house again. But first, he had to see how young Elin fit into this puzzle of a case.
Nadia Elin passed away 30 years ago, on August 12, 1955. Her parents six months before. Officially, the causes of death was pronounced as a suicide, though it was written in the notes that there were strange bruises on her wrists. It was most likely a sign of a struggle, though he couldn’t be sure unless he saw the images himself. For all he knew, it could have been something completely unrelated.
The case was closed quickly, only a day after Elin’s body was found. He grabbed a paper from his folder, checking the date Prescott moved into the house. Only a week after Elin’s death. Interesting.
A presence leaned against the table next to him, looking over, It was officer Wan. His hat was off today, his floppy hair framing his face and neck. Xavier raised his eyebrow, receiving a smile from the officer.
“Officer Wan.”
“Jason.” Xavier blinked a few times. “You can call me Jason.” Officer Wan said cheekily, a grin spreading across his face.
“Only if you call me Xavier.” Xavier replied pleasantly.
“What are you searching for?” Officer Wa— no, Jason spoke curiously, his eyes lingering on Xavier's own pair before turning to the clunky computer.
“Nadia Elin.” Xavier watched Jason’s strange expression, perplexed at the reaction.
“Her? Why?” Jason asked, tilted his head as he crossed his arms.
“She came up in one of the tapes.” He paused before continuing. “You knew her?”
“No. She passed away when I was young, around eight or nine.” Xavier gestured for Jason to continue when he hesitated. “There are rumors. Said that her family offended someone big. Her family went from riches to rags in one day, it was big news back then. After her parents died, I heard that she tried to get help from others but she was denied. She even went to the police and they kicked her out! Apparently, whoever her family offended was big money, to be able to do that.” Jason visibly shivered.
“I see.” Xavier said thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair began to piece the puzzle together. The house the late Prescott acquired was the largest residence… and it belonged to the Elin family. It seemed that Prescott took offense to that and most likely tried to buy it from them but was declined. That likely set him off and caused the Elin family to become bankrupt. Though he probably hadn't thought that they could have still possessed the house even if they weren’t rich anymore. This set him off again and he tried to get rid of the family. Looking at the suspicious deaths of the whole family, it seemed likely. He took out the parents but failed to get rid of the daughter, who then tried to expose him. Though, in the end, he succeeded in his goal; getting rid of the Elin family and gaining the house.
That happened thirty years ago, so why was he suddenly targeted now?
“Xavier?” Jason waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts and giving Jason an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.” He explained. Xavier stood up, draping his coat over his shoulders and turned to Jason. “Do you know if anyone was close to young Elin?”
Jason blinked before answering, scratching the back of his neck as he did so. “Nah, It's been so long. Though you could ask around? I'm sure there were others who knew.”
“Would you be able to accompany me?” Xavier asked as he put his things away, placing them into his briefcase.
“Unfortunately not. I'll be busy filing papers for the rest of the day.” Jason responded regretfully. He would have preferred Jason’s presence.
“That’s too bad. I'll see you later then?” Xavier suggested as he walked away, looking back to wave goodbye. He received one in return along with a confirmation.
Making his rounds around the neighborhood, Xavier interviewed the residents about Nadia Elin. Some of the elders of the community responded with their sadness over her passing, saying how she had so much to look forward to, and others shut the door in his face when he brought her up. Then there were those who didn't even know who she was, though it was mostly the younger residents.
When he did ask about Prescott, the residents had much more to say. They had been worried about his behavior recently, it had seemed he had gone mad, and were shocked at his sudden passing. Many said that he was close to one of his neighbors, Bianca Taylor.
Checking his watch, he walked up to the porch of the last house he had to interview, belonging to one Bianca Taylor. The beekeeper Jason had joked with him about. She was also referenced in the cassette tapes of the late Prescott for supplying him with honey the month before. Said to be close enough to Prescott that she had the keys to his house.
The door opened after he knocked, an older woman appearing in view. She wore a cream colored dress that was covered by a frilly flour-covered apron. Her dark complexion was framed by two beaded braids, the rest presumably tied behind her back in a low ponytail.
“Bianca Taylor?”
“Yes? You are?” She questioned, her gaze moving up down his body, assessing him.
“Detective Garcia. I’m investigating the death of Mr. Prescott.” He pasted on a polite smile and gestured to the door, “May I come in?”
She frowned, rubbing her hands on her apron and closing the door slightly, leaning against the doorframe, “I didn’t have anything to do with that.” She was obscuring the inside of her house. Of all the people he questioned, she was the most defensive from the get go. Interesting…
“It’s just procedure, I’ve already questioned the rest of your neighbors. This was the last house I’m visiting.” He reassured her.
It worked, he could visibly see her get less closed off though she still had a shred of defensiveness.
As he was let in, he noticed how many jars of honey were arranged in her kitchen despite the brief look he had. He was led to the sitting room, decorated in warm yellows and blues. Taking out his small notepad, he began his interview, beginning with basic questions and jotted down her answers. Taylor was relatively calm during those questions, though her eyes flit around the room the longer he stayed.
“Have you been supplying Mr. Prescott with the honey you produce?” He asked casually, the last question about Prescott he needed to ask.
She seemed startled at that question, “How did you know?” The hands that were rubbing her dress clenched, her eyes staring at him sharply. He hadn’t expected that kind of reaction from her, it was a simple question… unless something was wrong with the honey?
“It was recorded by Mr. Prescott, in his diary.” She relaxed at that, letting go of her firm hold over her dress and smoothing it out. She frowned a bit at the mention of the diary before hastily fixing her expression into a polite smile.
“I see.” Bianca spoke neutrality, her gaze straying from his once more.
“Last question, then we’ll be finished.” Xavier smiled back, looking at her from under his eyelashes, studying her expression as he asked, “Do you know a person called Nadia Elin?”
Her face twisted in grief, clenching her fists tightly and ducked her head. She was obviously not expecting that question, if her reaction was to be trusted. When she brought her head up, her expression was back to neutral.
“Yes, I did. She was a previous classmate. We weren’t close. Was that all? If so, I’m busy cooking.” That was a lie if Xavier ever heard one. Her previous reaction couldn't be explained away as not knowing Elin. Not to mention her clear dismissal after he brought Elin up.
“It is. Thank you for cooperating with me, Ms. Taylor.” He stood up, giving her a quick but firm handshake before exiting the house. He stretched in the cool night air and began his walk back to the station. He needed to submit his findings for processing.
She was definitely involved in the case. If not the main offender, then an accomplice in the murder. Looks like he’ll have to visit the Prescott residence soon.
──── ∘°❉°∘ ────
August 8th, 1985
The morgue was dimly lit, Xavier’s footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. Reaching an office, he knocked on the doorway, gaining the attention of the mortician. She looked a little surprised at his presence but welcomed him all the same.
“Mr. Garcia, we weren’t expecting you so early.” She greeted, her name tag reading ‘Mrs. Jo Carter’.
“I’ve had some time. I'm here to see Mr. Prescott’s body, Mrs. Carter.” Xavier requested, the case files were sparse with details about the corpse. He had to examine the body with his own eyes rather than only relying on what a piece of paper said. He’s done this plenty of times before.
“Of course, I'll take you there. It's really a shame what happened to him.” She said, keeping up the conversation. They made small talk for the time it took to take out Prescott from his assigned mortuary cabinet. He lifted the cloth covering Prescott’s face, Carter lingering in the back.
Peeling open an eyelid, the pupils were still dilated from his death five days ago. Xavier moved the cloth lower, exposing Prescott’s chest and abdomen. Purple and pink rashes were spread over Prescott’s arms and lower chest. Rashes weren’t a symptom of an overdose.
Mrs. Campbell had told him that Prescott experienced convulsions, vomiting, and labored breathing. Not to mention the deterioration of his mental facilities… Those were symptoms of poisoning, just as he first thought when he saw this case.
He covered Prescott’s body with the cloth and turned to Carter, “Has his blood been tested?”
She jumped, not expecting to be suddenly called on. “It has. The test showed that Mr. Prescott had Hydralazine in his system at the time of death.” She hesitated before continuing, “It had some unexpected results though. There was an extra element recorded but we couldn't tell what it was.”
“That’s all I needed today. Thank you.” Xavier stepped away from the examination table, waiting for Carter to put Prescott back into the cabinet and walked her back to her office.
Exiting the building, he drove the police cruiser towards Prescott’s residence. Xavier invited himself inside, heading straight to the kitchen. He had thought it odd that for a supposed overdose, Prescott was affected for weeks before his passing. The only thing that he consumed daily was honey. The honey that was gifted to him by Bianca Taylor.
Prescott stored the new batch of honey he was gifted at the front of his pantry. He tugged on plastic gloves before reaching out and snatching the lid off the jar, taking a sniff. Just like last time, a bitter smell was infused between the sweet scent. He took another jar out of the pantry and smelled it too. It smelled like regular honey. Testing the other honeys, it seemed that there was only one jar of poisoned honey.
Xavier returned to the cruiser and put the two jars of honey into separate evidence bags. He started his drive, radioing the station and asking for an evidence processor to be readied. Of course, Woolf had to object. By the time he arrived at the station, the processor still wasn't ready.
He walked in from the front door, Woolf waiting for him with his arms crossed. As Woolf opened his mouth, most likely to lecture him about who was in charge of the case, Xavier cut him off. Holding the bags up, he said, “I found evidence. It needs processing. If you could be so kind…?” He gestured to the room behind Woolf, the evidence processing room.
Woolf scowled before moving to the side, following behind Xavier as he walked into the room, nodding to Jason as he passed.
Woolf snatched the evidence bags out of his hand, putting them into the processors while mumbling about insubordination for some reason. They sat down in the seats at the edge of the room, Xavier placing his bag on the table. It would take some time for results to show, so they would have to wait.
Xavier shuffled through his case files while Woolf grabbed a book to read. Xavier stood up abruptly, going to grab himself a coffee. Sitting in one place and waiting was going to drive him crazy. He didn’t deal well with boredom. It was the entire reason he was even on this case to begin with.
Ordering three coffees, he handed them to Woolf and Jason, who thanked him. Woolf just gave him a grumble and a nod from his head. Xavier and Jason started chatting, time flew past quicker with a conversation partner, Woolf chiming in occasionally.
A sharp ding sounded throughout the room. That could only mean one thing; the processor was done. Standing up, they rushed to see the results. Xavier grabbed the paper, holding it so all three of them could see. The officers in the background staring curiously at them.
There was one word written on the processor.
Nightshade.
──── ∘°❉°∘ ────
August 9th, 1985
Xavier watched Woolf interrogate Taylor through the darkened one way mirror. After it was confirmed the honey she gifted Prescott was poisoned, an arrest warrant was sent out. Three police officers were sent to her house to arrest her but it was found empty. An officer who was retrieving more jars of honey from Prescott’s residence for evidence happened to find her and arrested her on the spot. He had found Prescott’s keys in her possession. It was just her misfortune to be caught by an officer.
The interrogation was quick once all the evidence was laid out in front of her. She truly realized she had no way out of this at that point and broke down, explaining why she targeted Prescott.
She murdered Prescott due to an old grievance, the death of Nadia Elin thirty years ago. Taylor and young Elin were close friends, they met in middle school and stuck with each other ever since. When the Elin family were being targeted, Elin came to Taylor for comfort. They became even closer after the Elin parents passed away, leaving young Elin with only an empty residence in her possession.
Elin shared who she thought targeted her family, going around from house to house. She was called crazy and thrown out of homes. She was even laughed out the door when she asked the police for help. Thus, when Taylor believed her she was shocked but happy.
It wasn't too long after that Elin passed away. Taylor was distraught. Of course she would be, the person she was closest with had died. She hadn't even been allowed to identify the corpse or attend the small funeral. She became very angry after, wanting revenge for her friend. She knew that Elin wouldn't have killed herself, especially when Elin wanted justice for her parents.
Taylor then began to investigate who was after the Elin family, and why. She quickly narrowed it down to two men, Dan Brady and Carl Prescott. Dan Brady was taken off of the list swiftly. The only grievance he had with the Elin family was too small for him to murder someone over. That left Carl Prescott.
She had her suspicions but didn't act on it, deciding to search for evidence before she accused him of a crime willy-nilly. What she did find was incriminating, but when she tried to anonymously give the evidence to the police, it ��mysteriously’ disappeared. That's when she knew she couldn't trust anyone but herself to bring Prescott to justice.
Taylor took up beekeeping at first as a hobby, and then had an idea to poison Prescott. But first, she needed him to trust her. She decided she needed to be in his good graces and fast. It took her twenty five years for Prescott to trust her again, since he undoubtedly knew she submitted evidence against him to the police. He had the entire police force in his pocket back then.
Prescott had given Taylor the keys to his house, and she thought that if she got rid of him so soon after she received them, she would get caught. So she waited. And waited. And waited some more. After five years, she decided to act. But when she finally got her revenge, she was caught just a week later.
And just like that, case closed.
Xavier saw Taylor off, for once not feeling pleased that he solved a case, a frown resting on his face. It was really a pity. If the police weren't as corrupt and the young girls were taken seriously, none of this would have had to happen.
A shoulder bumped into his, Jason handing him a mug of coffee which he grabbed with enthusiasm. The ending of the case had really taken a toll on him.
“How are you feeling?” Jason asked, genuinely curious.
Xavier took a moment to really think about it. The case wasn't as clear cut as he thought it would be. There were many people involved that could have prevented such a tragedy from happening and yet, they didn't act. He wondered, if this case wasn’t solved, would something like this happen again? He wouldn't let that happen!
As nice of a place this town was, it had many secrets. Much of which were still unearthed. He wasn't oblivious to how suspicious many of the townspeople were. If he stayed, would he have the opportunities to unearth some of those secrets? But he couldn't stay, could he? He still had a life outside of this town. A life that consisted of traveling from case to case…
“Im…as good as I can be.” He answered with a shrug and sipped his coffee. Jason gave him a small smile, his crow’s feet becoming more defined.
His eyes lingered on Jason’s face. Perhaps he could stay a while longer. I couldn’t hurt, could it?
──── ∘°❉°∘ ────
This took two days to write, which, new record!! This was originally a school assignment that spiraled so now im throwing it out into the world :)
I didnt expect it to get so long tho :/
──── ∘°❉°∘ ────
Ao3
#original character#murder mystery#ats#mystery#halloween#murder#implied romance#implied male oc x male oc#implied female oc x female oc#original work#no beta we die like men#posted on ao3#tw death mention#sorry for the rushed ending :(#tw corpse#wwob#romantic tension#wip: my attempt at a quick detective story
0 notes
Text
MOULDER - CH.1 - PT.1
(Not beta read)
CW: Implied Character Death, Foul Language, Drugs
Sasha sat there, silent. Her mind slipping from her like it was sand in her palms. Looking at her arm, she seen no scar. Reminding her of how that night never happened, reminding her that he was gone. He had been for a while...
The frost crawled up the glass pane, spreading across the windowsill slowly. She grabbed her coat, putting it on and slinging the shotgun over her shoulder, marching out the door, the chilly air brushing past her, feeling the embrace of the cold that almost stung. She walked briskly through the forest, her eyes staring straight ahead and her boots crushing the snow beneath them, branches and leaves covered in snow, a small cloud appearing in her face with every breath she took.
Boots crunching through the ice and snow as she marched through the forest, heading north. A few corpses lying on the snow, their colourful coats contrasting the whiteness of winter; cold and unforgiving, Sasha didn’t slow down though; she had places to be, and the day couldn’t be wasted. The wind was silent, there was no sound of birds singing, the only sounds she could here where her soft breathing and the sound of her boots crushing the snow beneath them. On every tree there was carving or spray paint, getting more frequent the closer she moved to the tunnel, the entrance; a warning to the new ones to turn back before it’s too late...
After a while of walking, she stopped for a moment, leaning on a tree, her eyes scanning what she could see before she opened her flash, sipping at the contents; the water a pleasant relief for her dry throat.
She let herself catch her breath, right when she seen something. A dark navy figure moving through the woods, making no effort to be quiet or hide themselves.
Sasha stared at the figure with some curiosity before she turned and started walking away once more...��
He stared ahead, walking through the woods without much care. His pistol was firm in his grip, he knew exactly where he was going...
It wasn’t long before he stopped walking on snow and his boots started to make noise on a wooden floor instead. Knocking on the door before he spoke up in a rough voice.
“Package is here”
He stood outside the house for few moments, looking around and noticing how well kept the building was compared to the other establishments he’d seen in the zone. The vines that crept across the cobble walls being cut down, yet he was dragged from- his train of thought when he heard a voice from the other side of the door.
“Demid?” The voice called out, belonging to a short man who walked outside, whose face lit up into a grin when he seen the soldier “Ah! My friend!” He exclaimed, and Demid leaned down to greet the shorter man, ignoring the dread bubbling in his chest. He was fine, this was just a delivery...
When he walked into the building, Demid noticed just how well kept it was; The floors where swept and the broken parts of the walls were covered up with sheets of tarp. The broken legs on the chairs taped together with a much better standard than what else he’d seen in the zone; no chips of wood and splinters jutting out of the tape. It was pleasant... And the lack of death in the air was a welcome surprise for Demid. Sitting on the stool, he looked at the man.
“So, my friend,” The man hummed, pouring two shots of whiskey, handing one to Demid, “Where’s the package?”
He nodded, taking the glass and giving it a sniff, before taking the mask off his face and downing the shot. Grabbing a box from his back, the paper rustling under his fingertips as he stretched his arm out, placing the package on the table. The atmosphere was pleasant, and Demid sat down, looking at the man calmly, sunlight lit the room simply, a cool breeze flowing through the window.
“I must say...” The man hummed, licking his lips as he stared at his friend. “I’m sorry for this....”
Hearing those words, Demid paused, his eyebrows furrowing. That’s when he felt it; a sudden wave of nausea hit him, and he stood up. Realizing the man spiked his drink. Stumbling towards the man before his knees buckled under him. Grunting as he hit the floor and the panic set in.
“You... Bastard-!” He mumbled, looking up at the short man, who had a wicked grin plastered on his face. The words the man spoke rung in his ears as everything spun, and he felt like he was falling before it finally went black...
#original lore#original characters#original story#original character#original post#original work#oc story#ocs#action#implied romance
0 notes
Text
Getting ready for a special event~ 😉🕺
#In this case: New Year's Eve! ^o^🎉#Who else wants to see Luigi and Toadsworth play matchmakers? 😏#I feel like these two would get along really well honestly 🤭#Often chatting about Mario and Peach... Subtly trying to move things along at the castle lol#Not to mock our lovebirds but-#they do need all the help they can get xD#I had imagined that Peach would once tell Luigi about her secret wish to attend a fancy party with Mario#And this wouldn't fall on deaf ears ;D 💕#Cue Mario being dragged into a dressing room and wondering why he's having his measurements taken all of a sudden#Feeling very clueless about it all but confusedly following royal fashion protocol regardless 😂#He doesn't know it's done with the sole purpose of him matching with the princess for the occasion#Although Toadsworth's statement assuredly gave him a clue; and one can only assume he blushed very noticeably at that! 😆#Mario#Luigi#Toadsworth#Princess Peach#Mareach (implied)#Mario x Peach#romance#shenanigans#conspiring wingmen#party#Super Mario bros#fanart
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Overindulgence - Baizhu
Author Notes: Happy (belated) Valentine's Day Genshin fandom! I debated about whether or not to write a Valentine's fic or not before finally breaking down and deciding to do so. I actually had a fair bit of fun writing this one. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!
Type: Gender Neutral reader/ Fluff/ implied romance/ sfw
Word Count: 1121
“What are those?” Even though I wasn’t facing him as I sat down the plate of chocolates I knew exactly what expression on Baizhu’s face. I'd easily known him long enough to know that and clearly picture it solely based on the tone he used.
It was the one that was usually reserved for particularly disobedient or poorly behaved patients. The frustrating ones who wouldn’t do as instructed and would automatically complain when the didn’t recover immediately despite not having done as they were told.
I was proved correct as I turned to look at the doctor with a smile that was perfectly at odds with his frown. But I was wholly unperturbed by the frown on his face as I gestured to the little chocolates on the plate, “Dark chocolate. I helped Qiqi make them.”
I paused, tilting my head and letting my amusement creep into my voice as I finished, knowing my next words would seal the deal, “She wanted us to have them.”
I watched as Baizhu pursed his lips, unable to turn down the little girl’s gift despite his general distaste for candies.
He’d dealt too often with patients suffering from a stomachache or some other sweets-related ailment to be fond of such foods.
“Where did she get the idea of making chocolates,” His tone sounded weary, but I knew it had more to do with the situation than actual fatigue as I sat down next the table that now held the candies.
“Yaoyao was talking to her about the ways that Valentine’s day was celebrated. I think she decided she wanted to make something after their conversation but then didn’t really know what to do with all of it so she gave some of them to us. She’s giving the others to Yaoyao,” I explained calmly, wondering how long it would take for him to give in and just accept the chocolates.
After all, I wasn’t going to be the only one pushing him about this.
“Surely just one wouldn't hurt?” Changsheng’s tone was almost judgemental as she looked at the doctor and I didn’t even bother to hide my smile as he shot her a look. It wasn’t common for Baizhu to get annoyed with his serpent friend, but it seldom failed to be amusing when it did happen since it was almost always over something like this.
“Did you know that dark chocolate is a very good source of antioxidants?” Baizhu looked my way as soon as I spoke, a smile slipping onto his face at my words. But they were true, and he knew it.
“Yes, but if over-indulged in they can lead to a myriad of health issues,” His eyebrows lifted and crossed his slender arms as he responded. Automatically picking up on my change of tactics and not falling for it.
I nodded agreeably though, humming slightly as I picked up a candy and looked at it carefully. After just a bit of practice Qiqi had picked up on how to shape and powder the candies quickly. And though she wouldn’t remember doing so later, I really did feel like she’d enjoyed herself in her own quiet way, and I knew Yaoyao would be ecstatic to receive such a gift.
And even if he wasn’t admitting it, Baizhu was too. It was just that he tried very hard to follow the same diet he prescribed to so many of his patients.
“So can overdoing medicine and other foods.” I glanced over, meeting Baizhu’s stare before I held the little candy out to him with a smile, “Balance is important for health and life in general. I know you know that, Baizhu.”
I tilted my head as he sighed, seemingly accepting his defeat even as I continued, “One or two pieces aren’t going to hurt you.”
He was smiling at me in an almost rueful manner as he plucked the chocolate from my fingers, surrendering easily just like I’d known he would when I first came into the room. Baizhu could certainly be stubborn about matters pertaining to health, but he was also pretty bad to indulge both me and Qiqi and could be quite reasonable.
He smiled down at the chocolate, chuckling slightly and shaking his head, “I suppose you're right.” He popped the candy into his mouth, humming to himself and nodding as he quickly finished and looked my way, with a proud smile, “She did a good job.”
I felt my smile widen before I nodded, agreeing with him, “She picked up on how to make it very quickly, and I think she enjoyed herself too.”
I watched as his gaze softened and he nodded, smiling more to himself than anyone else now, “Good.”
Changsheng watched him before letting out a sigh and shaking her head before looking my way, “You know, the balance of things goes two ways.”
Both of us now looked at the snake whose eyes stayed on me as she continued, “Too little of something can be detrimental to one’s health too.”
I nodded slowly, agreeing with her, but wondering where she was going with this even as I popped a candy of my own into my mouth. We’d already been victorious in getting Baizhu to accept his chocolate.
“I guess you're like that for Baizhu. If you’re away too long then he becomes useless.” Changsheng’s nonchalant words had me sputtering as I barely managed to swallow the chocolate without choking.
I looked over, wide-eyed, at Baizhu who looked just as startled as I was, if a little mortified while Changsheng continued to gaze at me with a now smug expression.
“We don’t actually know if it goes the other way yet. It seems like it's impossible for him to overindulge in your presence, though he does get distracted some-”
“That’s QUITE enough Changsheng!” Baizhu interrupted hurriedly, causing the snake to look his way in an almost indignant manner. She didn’t get to snap back, though, since he continued in a scolding tone even though he himself was most definitely flustered, “You’re going to make them uncomfortable.”
Chengsheng let out an unimpressed hiss, sliding down from his shoulders and to the ground before making for the door. Only pausing to look back at us over her shoulder, “Suit yourself. But you’ll have to talk about it sooner or later, otherwise we’ll have to start conducting studies to see if there is such a thing as too much of Y/n for you.”
She slid out the door before he could say anything back while I sat, dumbfounded in the chair.
Silence fell heavy between us until Baizhu at last recovered, letting out an awkward cough and gesturing to the side with an uncharacteristically inelegant smile, “Tea?”
#Genshin Impact imagines#Baizhu x reader#Genshin Impact Baizhu#Genshin Impact x reader#Genshin x reader#Genshin#Baizhu#gender neutral reader#valentines day fic#valentines day#fluff#implied romance#sfw#it-happened-one-fic#mywritings#Genshin impact#Baizhu x you#Baizhu x y/n#Genshin Impact x you#Genshin Impact x y/n#Genshin x you#Genshin x y/n#Liyue#fic#fanfiction#fanfic
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
A moment to hold.
And as the two of them sat there, entwined in each others arms, all was calm in the night. The room was dark and perhaps a bit too warm, but they did not care. All they cared for was to smell each other's hair, touch each other's faces, breathe each other's air. Neither of them spoke, neither of them dared to breathe too loud, for fear of breaking the moment. It had been five years since they had been able to see each other, let alone touch, and all they wished for was a never-ending-moment. They each tried to forget that their moment would only last a few hours, that it would be years again before they would see each other. Life on the seas was funny like that. You might end up sailing together and have all the time, or you might truly be nothing more than two ships passing in the night.
#writers on tumblr#romance short#implied romance#a very short story#two ships passing in the night#harper ance#author harper ance#original writing
0 notes
Text
prompt # 135
"Must I desire something that is already mine?"
#prompt#writing prompt#writing idea#writing inspiration#short prompt#writers block#guess who's back#back again#possessiveness#implied romance#implied enemies to grudging allies#referring to a literal object... not a person#someTHING not someONE#please do not mistake this for objectification of a human person#POV you are the villain who's about to win the one thing they've been fighting for#POV it's the stupidest fucking thing#but it's yours and no one else can have it.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Every time they face each other in court, basically~
I may have spend way too much time on this nonsense, but it was fun. Main frames under the cut, because I like how they turned out :3
#ace attorney#ace attorney animatic#miles edgeworth#phoenix wright#kits art#wrightworth#narumitsu#nrmts#it's implied okay#court romance lol#it's my first attempt on a meme animation#i have no idea what I'm doing#please sent help
454 notes
·
View notes
Text
God, you're so handsome. ~ T.Wolff
Synopsis: Toto and George Russell's Sister are sneaking around.
TW: Implied smut, Age Gap, Smoking.
God, he's so handsome in his vintage Merc and black Tom Ford glasses. With the sleeve of his black shirt casually rolled up, his muscular forearms catch the light. A wisp of smoke hangs between his parted lips as he waits for me at the end of the road, hoping my brother doesn't see us. I drop my duffle bag rushing into his arms and meeting his lips with a sinful kiss. His lustful eyes raked over my outfit, biting his lip But we both know time is of the essence.
Out on the open road of Monaco with the wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck, just us and the ocean. His palm lays flat on my exposed thigh, mindlessly drawing shapes, his fluffy hair tousled due to the wind. His skin was glowing due to the setting sun. We pause to watch the sunset. I lean back against his chest, nestled between his long legs, with his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips against my neck. While my phone rings in the back seat.
5 missed calls from George
It's midnight, and we're tangled up in his sheets. I'm nestled against his side, his warm skin pressed against mine. His hand slowly roams my hip and waist until the teasing becomes too much. I stand over his body, holding him like a python, he canʼt keep his hands off me or his pants on. His lips whispered my name like a prayer.
16 missed calls from George
DAY 2:
In the morning light, he's still as handsome as ever, with tousled hair and sleepy eyes. I press a soft kiss to his jaw. As I try to untangle our limbs, his arms tighten around my waist. I flop back down, giving up on getting out of my safe place. After all, who needs breakfast?
Around mid-noon, we begrudgingly leave the bedroom to have ‘breakfastʼ. Who would have thought Toto Wolff would look so good making eggs? His bare torso is covered in an apron, his dexterous fingers wrapped around the whisk. I just intently stare at him making us breakfast, simply mesmerised, which he notices, he winks before giving me a bowl of strawberries to snack on. We share Crêpeʼs with whipped cream, with my feet in his lap; our lips swollen and his marble skin covered in purple splotches.
26 missed calls from George
It's the dead of night, and he sits on the sofa with his spectacles on, furiously typing away on his laptop, his hair messy from running his hand through it, his face set in a scowl. I just made his favourite Pumpernickel bread, and I have about 45 minutes to kill while it bakes. He looks too delicious right now for me to resist. I stand in front of him with an innocent smile, slowly moving his laptop away. His brown eyes crinkle with excitement, His lips find mine as I tug on his hair, gently massaging it to soothe the sting. He chuckles against my lip, his large palms sinking into my skin as my fingers nimbly unbutton his white shirt. My lips meet the skin between his neck and shoulder, his head thrown back in pleasure.
38 missed calls from George
DAY 3:
The next morning, I grab my phone while Torger is in the shower, to see a flurry of texts from my brother cussing me out, asking where I am. I calm him down, listing more lies to cover up our trial and he blindly trusts me, my heart heavy with guilt but he would never understand. I repeat it in my head like a mantra till that guilt settles when Toto takes me into his arms, kissing away my problems.
We lay on the couch as I read out loud, my hand running through his hair, his eyes fluttering shut. God, he's so handsome.
I chuckle, my darling all worn out. The simple domesticity of this week has me longing for more. we need to tell my brother, but how can I, this wasn't meant to happen but if I could go back in time I wouldn't change a thing. but my brother wouldn't understand, he has always been protective of his baby sister, and I know he would blow a fuse if he realised I was with his long-time mentor.
Our peaceful weekend had come to an end when he parked at the end of the road; back where we started, His face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl during the drive back. A chaste kiss and I walked up the road back home nodding at the security guard as he let me in giving me a sorrowful look. Stepping through the threshold of my house I switch to being the perfect sister and daughter of The Russells.
I happily greet my brother, feeding lies about my girl's weekend like I didn't spend the whole weekend in bed with his Boss and Mentor. As I head up the stairs he complements my outfit, I thank him with a soft smile but beneath that pretty pink Chanel dress he brought are the bruised hand prints of Torger Wolff with love bites to match.
#rehenysstories#formula 1#f1 drivers#toto wolff#toto wolff fanfic#toto wolff fluff#toto wolff fic#toto wolff imagine#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff x you#mercedes#mercedes amg petronas#formula one#formula one fanfiction#george russell#forbidden#forbidden romance#implied sex#implied smut#sneaking around#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#mercedes amg f1#team principal#lana del ray aesthetic#lana del ray coded#older#oldermen#older man younger woman
211 notes
·
View notes
Text
What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)
#witch hat tag#orufrey#er.... i'm too tired to have anything to say..i worked several days on this.#wait.. didn't i say just recently here that i probably wouldn't ever depict 'what if alaira is qifrey's sort-of ex'. What's going on#i don't even remember deciding to draw this..it's all a blur..i'm not sure why i WOULD decide to draw delicate scenes in my head#that i wouldn't really want to share with anyone/discuss so why did i draw it...#some part of me really really wants to draw things that are more and more true to myself...#maybe because of my alienation with most romance/shipping/dynamics the rest of the world depicts.#orufrey really is perfectly suited to me - what i read in the text and what is in my head. well anyway#i am TIRED of drawing poses and angles and..maybe now i will actually take a break from drawing bc of the tediousness of Angles#btw it really is a 'stretch of time' . . . assuming witches graduate age 18-20#well orufrey are canonically 30-ish. they've only had agott around for presumably about TWO years (?) bc she took the test age 10#and it feels like oru moving in/unknown atelier acquisition/building (?) .. i guess that could be a year or so before agott at most#(she was the first disciple) so... ????????? What about the other 7 or so years ?!?!?!!?!?! Unemployed Brimhat Hatred era#that time is very nebulous. after qifrey went to the tower i feel like it's been implied he and oru drifted apart a little.#certainly they didn't live together at first... no way. that doesn't feel like how it is based on things oru has said about becoming Eye#idk. I'm tired now. i don't usually think of alaira as necessarily qifrey's ex and this being how things went in that 'sliver of time'.#i usually prefer the idea that they have their first kiss with each other in their 30s cause That's Just The Orufrey Lifestyle#just felt like making a more relatable alternative view of my own Cai Orufrey Canon one time. btw im a big monoshipper and it hurt a bit#let's leave it there. this is surely the most i've worked on a 'single' art - though now i realise just how much longer the fic took :')
189 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
horrorqueen21
Welcome To Your Nightmare💀💀💀
gachupons
Anime Girl Go Brrr
please-and-tease
Please Me And Tease Me
whis--ker
this guy again?
aarondissell-blog
Aaron Dissell