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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

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Bee Stings and Butterfly Kisses || SV5

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x wife!reader Summary: Your husband takes nesting to a whole new level with the paradise he’s found to start his family. Warnings: established relationship, pregnant!reader, fluffiness WC: 1.4k

The property Sebastian had chosen to raise his children upon was everything you could have dreamt of and more. There were rolling meadows full of fragrant flowers, forests of conifers and evergreens, and even a lake with an abundance of trout. The house he had designed was built using recycled material and was sustainable to run with the dozens of solar panels on the roof. He had truly future proofed everything to live a life as environmentally friendly as possible.

“Did you know honey is the only food that doesn’t spoil if you store it properly?” Sebastian barely looked up from the old set of drawers he was upcycling into an apiary. “There were pots of honey found in ancient tombs in Egypt, around 3000 years old.”

“I still don't see why we need bees at our home.”

“Because, my love,” he said as he placed his hammer down and pulled you into his arms, “this is our future we are building. Without bees there’s no pollination, with no pollination there’s no flowers, or fruit and vegetables.” His hand splayed across your swollen belly, feeling his son’s kicks against his palm with a smile. “It’s our responsibility to protect our future.”

The outdoor sofa where you were reading was a current favourite place of yours. It was tranquil and warm and allowed you to get off your feet for a little bit while your husband pottered around in the garden. With only a few weeks to your due date everything ached from your neck to your ankles so you kicked your feet up and listened to the birdsong.

The hiss of pain was one you had come to know well recently and it only took a minute for Seb to appear at the edge of the garden, the metal gate squeaking on its rusted hinge. He cupped one hand over his cheek, one eye closed with a wince as he ascended the stairs to the deck.

“You wouldn’t get stung if you used the smoke, love,” you softly reminded him as he took a seat and pulled his hand away. “Oh dear, that’s a big one.”

“We don’t know the long term effect the smoke has on them, it could be poisoning them,” he said as he turned his head so you could use your nails to pull the stinger out without squeezing more toxin into his cheek. “They will recognise me soon and realise I’m not going to hurt them.”

“If you say so.” You loved your husband but you weren’t so sold on the trust building exercise he found himself in. More often than not after going to check the beehive you found yourself in this position, grateful he wasn’t allergic. “How is your queen doing?”

His lips pulled up into a smile and he sat down on the edge of the seat, pulling your feet onto his lap and massaging your swollen ankles. “You tell me, my sweet, how are you doing?”

Emotions swelled in your chest and you cursed as he laughed, leaning closer to wipe away the tear that escaped. “Damn these hormones. You should really stop being so nice so my poor tear ducts can have a break. Can’t you just be a jerk?” His laugh grew and with it the kicks increased. “Yes, yes, daddy’s laughing at me.”

“I would never laugh at your mother,” he chuckled, lifting your shirt to press his lips to your belly. Stretch marks littered the skin and you dared not to think about the other changes that you couldn’t see below the swell, but he still made you feel beautiful. “Everything she is going through is my fault.”

“That’s right,” you agreed with a smile. “Daddy spent a lot of time romancing and seducing me, and now here you are.”

Seb looked up, his long hair hanging in naturally soft waves around his face. “How could I not? You were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I could hardly concentrate on the race after seeing you.”

“It couldn't have affected you too much,” you said as you tucked his hair behind his ear, “you still won.”

“I had to make a good impression somehow, since I could barely speak a word when we were introduced,” he admitted as he looked out over the garden he tendered.

You followed his gaze knowing he was going to be a great father considering the care he gave to the garden, and you. “It was your eyes I fell for anyway, they looked sweet and kind.”

The rows of plants were just flowering and you traced them to see the little bursts of yellows that all too soon would become bright red ripe tomatoes. Next were the beans, too many varieties to count, all climbing the trellis Seb had made from the wood of fallen trees in the forest. Further beyond were your favourites, the bushes that were brimming with berries of every flavour. Each morning you would amble your way to them with Seb and a bowl, pointing out the juiciest looking berries for him to pick for your smoothie.

Patting his good cheek, you shuffled to sit up and swing your legs off the couch.

“Where are you going?”

With a groan you pulled yourself to your feet and rubbed the straining skin at your sides. “To get some ice to stop that swelling,” you said as you pointed to his face. “You need to be able to see properly if you are thinking about getting back in a race car this weekend.”

“I can get it, you rest.” He followed you into the house even after catching the roll of your eyes and watched you struggle to bend down to reach the ice tray at the bottom of the freezer. Unable to stop himself, his hands caught your waist and straightened you up before he grabbed the tray. “I don’t want you hurting yourself,” he said with a kiss to your temple.

“I said the same thing, but you still went and got stung.”

“But that’s because I have you to kiss me better.”

You smiled at the softness in his tone and gave him the gentlest of kisses to his swollen cheek, barely the touch of a butterfly's wing. “There, is that better?”

“Yes, I don’t even need this anymore,” he said as he turned to put the tray away until you stopped him with an amused look.

“Nurburgring,” you reminded him, grabbing a tea towel to wrap the ice cubes in.

He had been excited since he got the call from Christian Horner to drive the historic track, and in a car modified to run on eco-friendly fuel no less. He was not going to do anything to miss the opportunity to return to the racetrack, even though he enjoyed retirement and the quiet life he had built in the rural settlement. So, he quietly accepted the ice pack and carefully pressed it to his cheek.

“It’s a dangerous track, Seb,” you murmured as you took over holding it, cradling his other cheek with your palm. “Please be safe and come home in one piece.”

His hands came to rest on your stomach, nearly covering it all as he splayed his fingers apart. “Of course, my love. And you need to stay in one piece until I get home.”

You giggled and felt the strong kick responding to his voice. “I have a feeling your son will take his time. Would you resort to one of those dreadful planes if he decides to come early?”

His lips twitched in amusement, used to your jibing over the consciousness of his carbon footprint. “I could probably drive home faster, with a few speeding tickets along the way, but I might be able to lower myself to boarding a plane for him.”

“Ah, that’s a father’s love,” you giggled. “He doesn’t even know what a sacrifice that would be.”

Sebastian lowered the ice pack so he could dip his head and kiss you. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the two of you.”

“Except get rid of the bees.”

His lips curled against yours in a smile you felt. “Except that.”

#sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #Sebastian Vettel fanfic #sebastian vettel imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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pennyserenade · 2 months

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picture this | chris o'doyle x reader

summary | there is an american woman, famous for her place in the background of protest photograph, and there is man from the ira. one week of every summer their infamous lives join and they forge a simple something a part from it all. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | ira mention, vietnam war mention, smut, a little bit of an age gap (reader is around 30, chris is 40), friends with benefits, co-workers (?) with benefits, protected sex, fingering, pinv, consensual sex, tender word count | 3.8k a/n | this took way too long to write and i'm sorry about that, but i hope you enjoy it!

Near the middle where the bone protruded on her knee, there was a dainty, thin scar that grew fainter with time. Somewhere–in past publications and museums, in scrapbooks and freshly-printed history books–the scar is being newly formed: she is twenty-two, attending her senior year of college and nothing makes more sense to her than standing up for other people. There is a sign in her hand, uncomplicated in both its design–white board, black lettering–and its demand (PEACE IN VIETNAM). Her youthful face is twisted in pain, her fingers folding the edges of the sign in agony as one knee touches the cement. If the camera had shuttered one second later, you would watch as the other gave way too, and you would see her mouth open wide to let out a scream that would only be masked in the cacophony of other screams.

She is not front in center in the photograph, but near the middle, only captured because of the chance way the bodies moved in that single, precise moment. Behind her is a crowd of soldiers, no older than any of the other students, who will later claim they did not strike first. They will accuse a dusty blond boy who died a week later from injuries he sustained during this photograph. This happened at a college campus she thought she would love forever. Now the degree she got there collected dust in a drawer, and she spent much of her free time trying to do anything that mattered.

Tonight, Chris found she was uncharacteristically romantic, full of cheap, potent beer and the inane idea that because they met once a year and fucked without purpose, that what they did was markedly adult. It wasn’t that she really thought that, but was an easy notion to be taken with; friends she had known in college were getting married and settling down, or already had, and the most consistent relationship she’d had in five years was this annual, week-long endeavor. Of course she knew that what they did was more sophomoric than trying at a real relationship and failing, but she could delude herself into thinking it was more mature on the basis that she did not love him and he did not love her. She told herself because they liked each other intellectually, personally, apart from having sex, it was different:. They had shared interests. He really did think she was clever. When he laughed, the laugh came from some place within him, an innocuous place that did not have coal to burn from in Ireland, but stirred happily back to life with her. When he kissed her, he did it for pleasure. He let her dress and undress herself. He lit her cigarettes the way he did for other acquaintances. When they were at her apartment like this, locked together in the quiet hours of the night, she was unabashed, witty, the least vain and neurotic version of herself.

Chris’ leather jacket hung on the back of a chair in her kitchen, his shoes tucked vertically by the door. His arm sloped over the back of the sofa, hovering near her body but not quite reaching it. In his current state, he looked at perfect ease: dress shirt unbuttoned, the glimmer of his silver St. Christopher’s pendant shining beneath the harsh lighting, a content smile on his face. If one were to glimpse inside her home, one might think he was a permanent resident.

“For a man so supposedly out of touch with the world, that mustache of yours is pretty in vogue, don’t you think?” she teased warmly, nodding towards his mouth. Her beer bottle sweated against the coffee table, without a coaster to protect the wood beneath it.

Growing more comfortable, Chris’ hand moved down, his fingers grazing against her knee. A flush of heat rose to her cheeks almost immediately, and he knew that the touch excited her, simple as it was. She watched carefully as he leaned down, quiet, and pressed his lips to the scar there. It was intimate, too familiar. She was an adult, steady minded, logical, and yet the simple act drove her to wordlessness. This was what a week with Chris always looked like, why she so craved it and feared it: it dizzied her, grounded her in a place that had not ever existed since she was twenty-two. It came back with tenacity whenever he stepped into her life.

Chris had no shame, leveling a satisfied smirk in her direction. He took in the sight of her face, his hand traveling further up her leg, exploring the width of her smooth thigh beneath his hand. She became tense under his touch, taut with anticipation. He nudged her legs apart with a tap of his fingers. Slowly, as if she had never done it before - not for him, not for anyone - she spread them apart.

“That’s right, my girl,” he cooed. Beneath the fabric of his tight slacks, his cock began to stir in interest.

This was a ritual his body knew what was going to happen next–because it always happened next. His pale blue eyes went a shade darker, the pupils widening as he trailed over the insides of her thighs with his fingers. Up close like this, he could smell the perfume on her, a heady, intoxicating scent that he relished as she leaned back on the couch for him. He rose up to her neck, tonguing at the flesh nearest to her throat, humming contentedly as her thighs attempted to close around his explorative hand.

He nudged alongside her jawline with his nose, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses on her neck. Beneath her skirt, he began rubbing soothing circles on her thighs. He could feel the heat emitting from her cunt, was thoroughly taken with the idea that in this state, he could just as well do anything he wanted to her. For months now, he’d been thinking of this, of her — of her soft whimpers, of the scrunch of her face as she came, of the taste of her, acidic and lovely. He’d palmed himself in the dark of night too many times to count, re-imagining the moments she hung up her inhibitions for him. He wanted her more than he could bring himself to admit.

He reached up and felt for the outline of her underwear. There was nothing. “No knickers?” he murmured against the warmth of her skin.

She shook her head, almost coy.

Chris pressed his lips to hers then. At first a light peck, the feeling of her lips against his was better than he remembered - better than anything he could possibly imagine - and he could not help drawing himself more closely to her. His hand carded through her hair, and when she opened his mouth for him, he groaned softly, ghosting his mouth above her own. They sat like that for a moment, staring at one another, measuring the depths of each other’s want before his tongue touched hers, and she eagerly gripped on the side of his shirt, pulling his body over her own. His feather touches on her thighs crept higher and higher until his fingers ghosted over her cunt. She canted her hips up, pleading silently, as his tongue ran over the top of her mouth, possessive and needy.

“What’s a matter, darlin’? No one touched you while I was away?” he teased. The Irish lilt drove her wild as it spread itself across the sensitive flesh of her neck.

Her nails dug into his side and Chris relished in the sting of it – at this something painful, that could also be nice. There was always a terrible, incessant part of him that wanted to know that things could still be nice.

She attempted to mold her form to his again, mewling from his curious lack of inattention. Chris grinned – nearly beamed – as if in wanting him, she was granting him some longed desired freedom. He knew her cunt ached for him; he felt the heat of it as his hand cascaded further up. Instead of touching her, he brushed lightly over her, grazing everywhere except the spots that would do anything for her. A protest finally rose up in her throat, but as Chris pushed the fabric of her skirt around her waist, whistling at the sight of her before him, it only came out as a weak sound instead. She looked at him, glassy eyed. Even in the dim lighting, he could see her glisten.

The alcohol made her pliant, but not incapable; whereas sober she probably wouldn’t let his curious eyes linger as long as they were, she allowed it now, slightly thrilled. The feeling ran up her spine when he brought fingers to her, spreading her puffy lips apart. She stifled a moan, gripping the edge of her couch, arching into his touch. With Chris, nothing ever managed to feel lewd; it felt like the most correct thing in the world, like he was drawing up a map and saying ‘this is where you are, this is where you belong, this is what you’re meant to do.’ It made her dizzy, how much she wanted him to merely touch her – not to mention how badly she wanted his cock, his tongue, anything at all. She wanted to tell him. To say: you could do anything you want with me. I’ll lie on the carpet, naked, let you look forever if you just keep looking at me like that, making me feel like this. Keep making me want you, just this much.

She didn't feel bad about it all—it made her feel strangely, inexplicably whole. Better because she didn’t love him, because she only liked him, and he only liked her, and yet they still wanted to touch one another like this, look at each other like that. She’d waited her whole life to feel that way.

“You’re mine,” he told her. The voice sounded as it came from deep within him, a place he didn’t rightly know existed until it did and he couldn’t help but reveal it. “Aren’t you? My girl, waiting for my fingers–” he circled over her opening, watching blurry eyed the way it closed around nothing “--waiting for my cock, wearing no knickers, hoping that I’ll what?” When they made eye contact, she found she never wanted to tear her eyes away from him again. He looked like he could devour her whole. “That I’d notice, fuck you soon as I seen you?”

He clicked his tongue, entering a single one of his thick fingers into her cunt. He tightened his jaw, watching the way it disappeared into the warmth of her. She was wet as hell. When she pushed at his shoulder, squirming a little beneath him, his lips curled up at the end into a small, genuine grin. He liked the way her face contorted, how she pushed even though she wanted more.

“That f–feels good,” she moaned.

“So fucking wet–” He entered another finger into her.

His nose once more rubbed along the smooth outline of her face. How badly he wanted to know the entire shape of her–to reach inside, extract a piece to take home. His fingers rubbed against the spongy top of her walls, and he measured the beat of her heart, the wavering of her breath, the ghost of her against his skin as he adjusted above her. His other hand grazed beneath the fabric of her shirt, peeling it up.

As he hung his head, a shag of hair concealed his face. She pinned it back just as he licked just above her breast. Her body arched up towards his own and he groaned, pulling his now wet fingers out of her and gripping at her hip. He pinned her against him, knocked his nose against hers, before kissing her; he sucked at her bottom lip, ran his tongue over the back of her teeth.

Chris wanted her to make a mess of him, and to let him make a mess of her. He wanted her spread and wet, wanted to plunge his cock deeply inside of her, wanted to run his tongue over the creases between her legs, wanted to suck her clit, bite her nipples, to see her mouth around his cock, his fingers, wanted to watch her pupils dilate, her mouth form into a neat ‘o’, to hear the thud of her heart against his ear, a sound that would no doubt make his own heart beat quicker, and more happily than it had in months.

“Please,” she told him, and he couldn’t resist.

Her fingers found the buttons on his dress shirt and diligently began to undo them as he reached between their bodies to push down his slacks. As she moved the shirt down his arms, he caught her lips against own again.

“D’you have a condom?” he asked, urgent.

“Over there.“ She pointed to the drawer beside them. He kissed her again before leaning over and grabbing the pack out of the assortment of junk she had stored there.

His brows furrowed as he took one of the wrappers out of the pack. He tried not to think entirely much about the fact that there was empty space where others had been, and tore the end as she hooked her fingers beneath his underwear and drew them down around his hips.

Swallowing, he took himself in his hand. As he pinched the tip of the latex, she reached out, stilling his hands. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she was doing it. He watched with widened eyes as she put her mouth around the weeping tip of his cock, taking him slowly into the warmth of her mouth. His fingers gripped the back of the couch and he sucked in a shallow breath. “Jesus Mary—“ he uttered, face tinting red. Her eyes glanced up and he nearly shuddered; they were glassy, impish, delighted as she flattened her tongue on the underside of his cock, tracing the vein up.

He felt drunk when she hummed around him — everything going straight to his brain all of the sudden. What she could not put in her mouth, she stroked with her hand. Chris could not peel his eyes from her. She’d done this before, of course, but never with so much self-possession. Saliva glistened on his cock and cornered the edges of her lips as she pulled back. He wanted to reach out, to touch her. To tell her good girl and watch the way the praise settled over her skin. But it all happened too quickly; she was already moving off of his cock before the words could come up. “

Now,” she told him, still holding him in her hand.

Chris understood; he nodded and adroitly peeled the condom over himself.

She laid back, spreading her legs apart to make room for him. He looked down at her, reverent, but still with the mind to be clever. “Mind me if I’m wrong, but I thought you women liked a bit of foreplay?” he joked, running his finger alongside her thigh.

Her lips mirrored his own. “This entire day’s been foreplay.” Her own fingers sprawled against his stomach, wrapping around his sides. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Like you said, I’ve wanted you to take me as soon as you saw me.”

It didn’t take much more convincing for him. His head dipped, his mouth on hers as he guided her back on the couch. She wrapped a leg around him, their tongues rolling against one another’s as he positioned himself over her. Even through the cotton of his undershirt, he could feel her pebbled nipples against his chest. He sighed, kissing at her jaw, her neck, leaving wet kisses over her collarbone. Reaching between her legs, he ran two fingers through her folds, testing how slick she was for him. He sucked hard on the skin over her breast—hard enough to leave a bruise—and hummed agreeably as she coated his fingers.

“My naughty, naughty American,” he delighted. He spread her folds apart with his fingers, rubbing over her core teasingly. She looked him in the eye, mouth parting to let mouth a silent moan.

Chris repositioned, replacing his fingers with his cock, rubbing the head of it through her folds. He went slack jawed with her as he teased the tip inside of her, stretching her entrance with the fat head of it. Her nails, which had been ghosting over his skin, dug in slightly. After a few moments, he pulled back out, much to both of their dismay.

“Don’t know if you’re wet enough,” he whispered against her lips, grinding his hips in an upward motion. She whined, pouting.

“I am,” she insisted.

“Not for me,” he replied, his hand reaching back between their bodies. He pressed two fingers inside of her, grinning as her brows drew together. “You’re mine,” he told her again, dragging his fingers along her walls. “You can fill yourself with whatever or whoever you like while I’m gone, but I want it to be known that this—“ he rubbed the top of her cunt, reaching a deep part of her that made her squirm. “—is mine. All fucking mine.”

She was intoxicated, the heady fumes of desire spreading out around them. He thrust his fingers inside of her, widening them apart to stretch her for him. Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, she brought him down to kiss her. He did, parting from her only to cast his translucent eyes down to where he was touching her.

“Fuck, I’m wet enough, Chris,” she said murmured his lips, frustrated. He laughed.

“Not enough. Want you dripping,” he said back, a bit stern. She could see it, suddenly, the way she hadn’t ever been able to before: an etch of seriousness that told her he could be a somber man. She found it terribly attractive. She sucked at the end of his tongue.

“If you fuck me properly, I will be,” she retorted, drawing her fingers around his sides, up to his back. She traced alongside his spine.

He scoffed, though she could see in his eyes he liked the teasing.

“You’re not being very nice to me. Don’t know if I should.” They both watched as he dragged his wet fingers up to her puffy clit. He traced wide, light circles around it. She held her breath, drawing her legs up involuntarily for him.

“You’re clenching around nothing, baby. What a pity.”

“Chris—“ she breathed out. “Chris.”

“Yes, that’ll do,” he nodded in approval, righting himself over her again. He applied more pressure on her clit.

“My pretty-“ Chris took himself in his hand again, lining his cock over her entrance, “-pretty girl all worked up.” He shook his head as if chiding, before thrusting his hips forward slowly. His eyes followed his cock as it disappeared into her, her cunt stretching beautifully around him. She was a goddess, laid out before him, wanting and waiting. Despite his desire for all of her, he thrilled at the slow taking of her. He was savoring it, remembering the tightness of her cunt, allowing the curve of her nails to embed themselves into his mind as well as his skin.

When he found himself fully seated inside of her, he turned his head, kissing the side of her lips, his eyelids, her nose. She pulsated around him. “You feel so tight,” he told her, gradually pulling out, only enough to feel the squeeze of her around him without losing too much of the warmth. He nearly sighed in contentment as he moved back inside.

She was already flush and warm all over from the alcohol in her system, and the feel of him inside of her felt less like an intrusion, as much as it did a missing piece to a lifelong puzzle. His cock was better than his fingers, thicker, longer, going deep as he grinded his hips down into hers. Impatient, she told him, “Faster.”

He huffed out a laugh, but obeyed, drawing up more quickly this time, pressing into her with more intent. She bit back a moan as she felt the plunge of him inside of her. Her knees went higher, something he encouraged by hooking one of them around his arm and thrusting roughly inside of her.

“Fuck, like that,” she moaned, nodding as he went impossibly deep inside of her then. She felt herself grow wetter—could hear it too, the slap of their bodies growing nosier the more intense he grew with his thrusts. It was no longer an issue for him to slide in; her body beckoned him, made all the room so he could seat himself closer and closer to her core.

Chris began to whimper as his thrusts grew more erratic. The pendant on his necklace swung as he watched the way his cock entered her, hitting her in the face as he pushed inside. Her tongue latched onto it, drawing the cool metal into her mouth. When he looked back at her, his eyes were full of unadulterated want. He shuddered, his hands falling over the back of her shoulders, attempting to draw her closer than she already was. She felt the fabric of his undershirt against her sensitive nipples, felt the drag of his pubic bone against her clit as he worked himself inside of her; he was all around her, hot, tangible, lovely, human. Hers.

His fingers wrapped tightly around her shoulders, almost with a bruising intensity, as he began to twitch inside of her. She looked him in the eyes, nodding, urging. He came then, the warmth of his seed inside of her making her gasp, even through the latex of the condom. Her arms wrapped around him, and she panted, smiling.

Pressing a kiss to her breast, he steadied his breathing. She brushed her fingers through his unruly hair, enjoying the faint tickle of his mustache against her skin.

“I’m still gonna make you cum,” he promised, cupping his hand around one of her breasts. They adjusted, so that he tucked himself beside her on the couch, their legs intertwining. His touch was curious more than attentive, the tips of his fingers caressing her warm flesh.

“We’ve got all night.”

“I know,” he smiled, licking behind her ear. Her eyes shut closed, and she pressed away the thoughts that this was not friendly. The alcohol made her feel pleasant, warm, and she did not care.

“Gonna make you cum a lot, my American,” he murmured, biting her earlobe.

She kissed him softly and he returned the kiss in kind, resting a hand on her cheek. He wanted to tell her something terribly romantic, to confess that he liked her quite a lot, that he enjoyed being here more than she would know. But Ireland was such a quiet, fearful place and the IRA had made him wearier than ever; it was best to say nothing than to say too much. It was better to show. His hand drew up between her legs, his eyes glimmering as he pulled away from her.

I want to know all you, said the line he traced up her thigh.

Alright, she consented, parting her legs for him.

#chris free fire #free fire #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy x reader #chris x reader #chris o'doyle x reader #free fire fanfic #cillian murphy smut #chris free fire smut #chris o'doyle smut #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x reader #cillian x you #cillian x fem!reader

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xelasrecords · 2 years

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In the Dead of Night, You Bring Me Back Alive

Han Jumin x Reader

What if you're not insecure about attending the high society parties that being in Jumin's life entails? What if instead of floundering at a public event and waiting for a rich man to rescue you, you could stand on your own?

Featuring an after-party scene where you and Jumin share quiet meandering conversations and find peace in them. Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it.

Words: 3.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Your words always wielded power. It was one of the reasons Jumin was intrigued by you. While he was a figure who commanded respect through his presence and status, you were someone with an air of quiet confidence. It was the kind of subtlety that people tended to overlook, but impossible to unsee once they saw it. Jumin might stand tall in front of everyone, his confidence formidable and magnetic, compelling the whole room to focus their attention on him, but one word from you would bring him to his knees.

Not that he minded.

He knew what kind of hold you had over him and would give in to you without a second thought. You were the person he loved. You were the person he admired. You were the person who knew the exact things to say to stimulate both the intellectual and sentimental parts of his brain that no other person could, except for Jihyun. If it weren't for social constructs, Jumin would gladly roll out a red carpet wherever you went and worship the ground you walked on.

Elizabeth the 3rd was treated like a princess. You, a human whom he cherished above all the fortune he possessed, should receive a treatment fit for a queen. Racking his brain for more things to give and do for you was his daily routine.

Tonight, both of you were inebriated from the numerous glasses of alcohol—champagne for you, wine for him—swiped from the corporate gala tonight, you considerably more so than him. With your red heels strewn out on the polished marble floor, the strap lacing trailing behind and stray confetti stuck on the sole of the right stiletto, you left them as they were while you slumped against the side of the white sofa. It had been a long night, and the back of your feet was throbbing. Elizabeth the 3rd was nowhere to be seen, but she was most likely asleep in her bed of posh design and hand-carved frame.

Jumin had crashed on the floor alongside you when your knees buckled from exhaustion. You had entered the penthouse together, his arm around your waist, steadying you as you snickered at things incomprehensible to anyone but you. You waved languidly at the bodyguard posted outside the door while Jumin gave him a brisk nod.

How the bodyguard didn't appear weary at this ungodly hour was beyond you. You grinned at him and threw a hearty good night! before you went in. If there was anything you knew from being with Jumin, it was that everyone could use a little bit of kindness. The irony of maintaining a stoic, emotionless mask was more taxing than living freely was not lost on you.

In your drunken haze, you registered that Jumin had put away his dress shoes and transferred your clutch onto the glass coffee table, a preventive measure to keep you from tripping over them. It wouldn't be the first time you made a fool out of yourself by having poor muscle coordination. The mistakes just had never been made public and you intended to keep it that way. For Jumin, he only wished to keep you from sustaining more injuries.

During the gala, Jumin had noticed the raw chafed skin on your ankles when you made rounds and exchanged amicable banter with the people you had learned only hours before, courtesy of the guest list Jaehee had put together. However impressed Jumin was with you, he couldn't stay still after catching glimpses of you wincing when you thought nobody was watching. Immediately, he requested Driver Kim to retrieve a medical kit.

But despite the pain you were enduring, you glimmered. Your gold sequin dress swirled around your figure as you conversed with other guests, making polite enquiries and occasionally tilting your head back in laughter when the topic entertained you. You had the talent of making your conversation partner felt important and welcomed, like everything they said was interesting and worth your time. You were an attentive listener and an even more suave speaker.

Jumin knew this easy-going character was a front you put up to support him. Although he had reminded you that you needn't play the part of a charmer to boost his image and win him more contracts, you couldn't be dissuaded. The last things you wanted were to stumble and fail spectacularly in front of a respected crowd and tarnish Jumin's reputation. If Jumin had done this his whole life, the least you could do was to understand his ways of survival.

Besides, there was a part of you that found this amusing. It was new and different, and you always welcomed a challenge. And who was to say this was not the real you? You were an amalgamation of everything you wanted to do and everything you had done, and this was one of them. As much of a charade as it was, it was also moulding your personality into something with more depth and complexity. Truthfully, you were tired of always being the same person you were before you met Jumin. You needed a change.

Even if you were not yet as well-versed as Jumin, you were determined to carry yourself with elegance and your head held high. The two of you were a sight to behold. He possessed an assertive demeanour that led him from one person to another with definitive strides, while you lured people in with the unique flair that belonged to you alone. Together, you were a force impossible to break. Everyone knew you had each other's back without making an ostentatious display about it. No one would dare to touch you.

Albeit you had spent the evening largely separated from Jumin, there were times when you would search for the one familiar face in the room that you loved, only to find him already looking at you. Stealing glances amidst the faceless crowd was a game you liked to play. Whenever he caught your eyes, his stern expression would soften, a soft, genuine smile that was exclusive to you would grace his lips, and his shoulders would lose their tension.

A few seconds would pass before he assumed the original stance with his conversation partner. But during that short time, the faces around you would blur and the mindless prattle would fade into the background. It felt as if you and Jumin had entered a peaceful bubble invisible to outsiders, and you could finally breathe. Even when you were not physically attached to his side, Jumin had brought you all that was safe and sound. That few seconds were all you needed to power through the evening. You knew it was also the case for Jumin.

Beneath the opulent crystal chandelier and melodious tune of live jazz, you weren't nervous about navigating the crowd alone. Although you were not the most outgoing person alive—it was exhausting to speak after dabbling in small talks with five people—you were glad that Jumin trusted you enough to handle your part alone. In the beginning, he used to fuss over every little thing, worrying that attending these parties would bring discomfort to you. He reassured you that if you ever needed help, you could signal him and he would come right by your side.

Of course, you knew he would stay true to his word, but you wanted to be capable. If you had to live in this corporate world that Jumin had introduced you to, you would have to adapt and hone your skills. You didn't want to hide behind his protection. Yes, it would be easier if you simply passed all the problems to Jumin and let him handle them, but you also loved yourself, and that meant fortifying yourself enough so that you could hold your own in the face of the public.

Jumin adored the fire in you.

Once he realised you were never going to relent, he offered personal tips and helped you practice as you eased into his world, all of which you gratefully received and implemented. It was unrealistic to sit back and hope for the best when it was only a matter of time before the media criticised you for being a gold digger disguised as an unfortunate damsel. Malicious rumours had begun to circulate the moment your dating news was made public, and it would continue to escalate unless you did something. You had to take control of the narrative before they could define you.

At the present moment, the ghost of the raucous chatter fell away as you felt Jumin's cold fingers wrapped around your ankle and carefully rested it on his crossed legs. "Don't move, darling," he chided. "Your feet are bleeding. Allow me to clean your wounds."

The penthouse was quiet and you were safe. You could let down your shield now.

The only light switched on was in the hallway by the front door. It poured into the living room, its yellow gleam illuminated Jumin's concerned face. The sight of him in his three-piece formal suit while gently dabbing rubbing alcohol on your injury was a pleasant thing to see. Even after a long night, he still looked put together, not a hair out of place.

You didn’t even complain about those heels during the ride home, yet he noticed. You felt love, so much love. "I feel like I am consumed by love. It's like love is coursing through my veins and exploding with fireworks inside." You let out a worn-out giggle. "If you cut me open and study my organs, I bet you could see how much I love you. I bet there would be a whole fiesta going on in my bloodstream and muscle tissues."

Jumin gave you an amused look before plastering a bandage on your ankle. "I do not have to witness you spilling your internal organs to feel your love." He put down your leg and lifted the other onto his lap. "The things you say, truly."

You relished in his tender touch, feeling its cold against your warm skin, running from your exposed calf up to your thigh where the slit of your dress fell off, a golden rumpled sea of glitter around you. "But imagine tiny cells wearing party hats running around inside me. How absurd!"

"Now, where did you get this idea from?"

"The tiny cells just announced it with trumpets and drums in my brain."

"God." Jumin shook his head, but not without good humour.

"Am I scaring you away? Do you fear my"—you let out a dramatic gasp—"unbidden thoughts?"

"I fear for the people who mean you harm. You, however, are still as mesmerising as ever," he said, his striking grey eyes studying your face. "You were captivating tonight. I had to fight off the physical urge to make you the sole focus of my attention. It is so easy to forget about everyone else when you are there." Jumin had finished bandaging your left foot and placed both your legs on top of his, running his fingers up and down across yours.

Shivers crawled up your spine. "So were you. You have the same effect on me."

"You were the highlight of the party. Have you any idea how many compliments I received on how seamlessly you fit into this society? People had been waiting for your downfall, but you put yourself above everyone instead." Jumin smiled at you. "And you didn't even have to try."

"What can I say? I'm a natural charmer."

"And very humble too."

You closed your eyes, a wan smile painted on your lips. The alcohol was catching up to you, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. "No, actually, it was the opposite. I tried very hard." You sighed. "I wasn't always this polished before I took your advice."

"I must be frank with you. I don't think you need all those extra lessons. You have always been excellent at being yourself." You weren't looking at him, but his voice alone spoke of total adoration.

You had never been on the receiving end of such affection. How fortunate you were to cross paths with him, to be loved by him. He had never given you any reason to doubt him and had always treated you well from the moment you met. You were not a believer in fate, but you believed in him.

You flailed your arms at him, motioning him to sit beside you. You yearned to feel the warmth from his body. "How about you? How well do you think you are at being Han Jumin?"

He put your legs down and obliged, shifting to your side, your shoulders nudging each other. There was a stretched silence as he pondered your question. You rested your chin on your tucked knees and gazed up at him.

"There are two Han Jumins in the world—or are there three? The first one is what I present to the public. The second is a mixture of the dutiful son and the loyal friend. The third one is the man I am with you."

The wine must have also brought out the pensive side of him. You had half-expected him to bludgeon your question with his usual brand of self-assurance, listing out his achievements and strengths. You preferred this vulnerable honesty, however rare it was, over the stoic image he put on in front of people.

"I like all versions of you," you said, offering him your own honesty.

"It's unfortunate that I have to create multiple personas to meet everyone's expectations." Jumin craned his neck down to look at you. "There are times I fear that I might lose myself if I play a certain part for too long, but this fear is a paradox in itself."

"A paradox?"

"Which persona is my true self? Have I split myself into too many pieces that they've become indiscernible? If I can't tell which piece is real, then who am I masquerading as this whole time?" He took a deep breath. "Who am I, if I couldn't be put back together?"

"This vulnerable Jumin seems pretty real and whole to me." You took his hand into yours, massaging his palm. "But don't you think it's normal to don multiple masks to survive? I'm not saying we have to be fake, but that's how humans navigate life."

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're getting at."

"See, I am more reserved and polite in front of strangers. I'm careful not to offend people and filter which things to say. But with the RFA, I can be more relaxed and let go of myself. And with you, well, I have no qualms about saying anything that comes to my mind."

"I can attest to that." Jumin chuckled. "But if politeness is a charade, then can we really be genuine in treating people?" You cocked your head to one side. "You may recall that I am trying to be more considerate with my employees."

You scoffed. "I am positively drunk, Jumin. My memory is impaired." You knocked on your temple in quick succession with your knuckle and yelped. Your head instantly felt heavy and your vision spun.

At no time, Jumin was already checking and caressing your head. "Be careful, love. Are you all right?"

You waved it away. "It will pass." You let him continue to card his fingers through your hair. It was therapeutic; every touch from him was. Recalling his musing earlier, you shared your thought, "Even if the act of being polite is a faux gesture—which I don't think it is—doesn't the feelings of the receiving party matter more?"

"Do elaborate."

"When you're polite to someone, you extend your respect to them. You treat them like a decent human being. It feels good to be treated well, you know." Lowering his hand from your head, you slung his arm around your shoulders and leaned against him. "I know you are indifferent towards niceties because people tend to only be nice to you out of fear or greed, but please hear me out before you debate me on this."

"I am listening to you." Jumin rubbed your arm, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "My experience doesn't cancel out yours, and I'm interested in what you want to say."

You rested your head against his chest, vertigo already subsiding. "I remember when a salesperson tended to me with patience and smiles even when I asked a lot of questions. I felt sorry for that, but it made my experience better than if I had to face a rude person who looks down at me for my ignorance."

"And that improved your feelings."

"You know how when you're having a bad day, everything becomes a chore?" You tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Standing underneath the shower is tiring. Making your bed is almost impossible. Talking with people at work makes you feel like you're drowning further in the mess that is you. Nothing can be smoothed out. Everything is creased."

"I have my maid to tidy up my bed, but I understand the sentiment," Jumin said in all seriousness.

"Well, I was having a bad day, but those three minutes of friendly exchange, even when they were out of obligation, had lifted my mood for three minutes. I had this thought, 'Ah, that wasn't too bad. Maybe I shouldn't shun this life just yet.' Then, my day became a little more bearable."

Jumin placed a kiss on your forehead and murmured, "I would like to meet this person and thank them."

"It was a long time ago, so I can't remember who it was. I remember how it made me feel though, so I reckon politeness has more worth than being a superficial act."

Jumin squeezed your hand three times. You had shown him an article about the gesture, informing him that it meant I love you. Since then, the two of you had made it into a habit to do so. "Your observations never cease to amaze me. I love this about you." He was also in the habit of proclaiming his love for you every now and then. "You bring your thoughtfulness wherever you go, that even if you wear thousands of masks, you wouldn't be in danger of losing yourself."

"I didn't know that's how you see me."

"It is. You are so grounded in you that it unnerves me to realise what it says about me."

"What does it say about you?" you asked softly.

"That I am not as connected to myself as I had thought." From the way you were practically lying on him, you could feel his chest rise and fall. "I know who I am. I know my likes and dislikes, my strengths and weaknesses. But knowing things aren't the same as owning them."

"Because they don't feel like they are part of you?"

"I don't know if they are true to my character. I slip on new faces quite easily," Jumin went on. "You know how I used to deal with contracts."

You remembered what Jaehee said aeons ago when you just joined the association. Jumin was a businessman who used his good looks to hook potential business partners into signing contracts with him, especially women who clambered onto him without the slightest shred of dignity, only to quit cold turkey on them once the contract was over.

It wasn't the most morally correct thing to do, but you also thought it was an apt response to people who merely wanted to take advantage of his wealth. "It's a necessity for you. If you have the leverage, why not use it?"

"You seem to contradict yourself," Jumin said. "This competitive edge had left many women heartbroken, as I recall."

"Maybe I just feel inclined to defend you and put your happiness first." You shrugged. "And once again, I am drunk."

"You are running out of chances to use the drunk card."

You hummed while tracing the buttons on his white dress shirt. "How many chances do I have left?"

"One."

At this, you straightened up and swivelled your body to face him. "What kind of rule is that?"

"My rule. I can do anything I want if it contributes to my happiness, as you very kindly declared." Jumin smirked.

Your brain was too muddled to come up with a counter-argument, so you merely huffed and sat back in silence. Jumin picked up the skirt of your dress that had bunched up between you two, rolling the sequins from one finger to another. The only sound wafting through this nearly dark penthouse was the crinkle of the gold coins embedded on your dress.

You wished every night was like this. Being together in peace, talking about things you would barely remember the next day. The dim yellow light cast long shadows beneath the outline of your figures, and you knew that this moment would stay forever bursting technicolour in your mind.

"You're judging yourself too harshly," you said after a while. "You just started discovering your emotions and learning how to dissect these layers that you had long buried. It's not fair to yourself if you expect an immediate result by using my progress as your benchmark. Not when I've been in touch with my inner self for longer than you have."

"Except I'm usually a fast learner."

"Usually." You bumped his leg with your toes. "It's about time you're not the best at something."

To your surprise, Jumin laughed at your statement. It was a crisp, freeing laugh that you had never heard before. You jumped at the sound, but it only made him laugh harder. His voice sent tremors down the hollow of your bones. Then suddenly, you also cackled, imagining all the bones in your body quivering because of him. What a ridiculous thought! But how funny!

Soon enough, none of you could stop the fits of laughter. You, doubling over with a hand on your stomach, the curtain of your hair streaking over your already blurred eyesight. Jumin, shoulders shaking from trying and failing to stop, one arm rounding your body, the other straightened out, hand clenching at his thigh.

Nothing made sense, but nothing had to.

Years later, after you and Jumin had moved out of the penthouse for a place that you owned together, this was what you would remember: in the dead of night, two souls were alive with giddy lightness, as bubbly as the champagne you had downed, as intimate as the mutual understanding you had shared. In your long span of life to come, this was the memory you liked to come back to. This one evening with him might be brief, but it made your life more bearable.

That was the only thing that mattered.

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.

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inlite-furnishing · 11 days

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Discover the Best Furnishing Store in Calicut for Your Dream Home

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kmp-modernfurniture · 10 months

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Imbuing homes with the Christmas spirit mindfully

“It’s time for the Christmas countdown. This also means that many homes will begin to sparkle, twinkle, and jingle with the tunes and decor of the Christmas spirit. But have you ever considered what happens to all the single-use decorations we buy?” Read more.

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aishangotome · 11 days

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Main Story Chapter 18-07: Among All of Nature (在萬物之中) | Light and Night 光與夜之戀

Chapter 18-05

♡———♡

Although I've temporarily moved to my grandma's house, the commute is too long and it's not a sustainable solution.

Using my spare time these past few days, I've looked at a few more apartments, but none of them were suitable. I had to expand my search area and increase my budget.

Luckily, I had good luck today. A small rental house just became available in an alley near my company. Because I'm used to living in a small shop, I really like spacious one-story houses.

With more space, I can store some design materials at home, set up a large table, and create a work area, just like Sariel's studio.

The person showing me the house was an elderly lady with gray hair, who was also the landlord. She owns several properties in this area. She's mentally sharp but has some trouble with her legs. She was a bit unsteady when crossing the threshold.

You: Grandma, let me help you across.

Landlord Granny: Oh, thank you, young lady. When you get old, everything starts to ache.

You: I should be thanking you for showing me the house yourself.

Landlord Granny: I don't like using agents. They don't know the good and bad about this place like I do. I've lived here for decades.

Landlord Granny: I can tell you exactly what time the vendors set up outside, which families have dogs, and whether they bark or not.

I nodded with a smile and looked around, noticing that the colors used, from the sofa cushions to the tablecloth and lamps, were quite bold and vibrant.

You: The decoration is so interesting!

Landlord Granny: You young people should like it. A young girl lived here before, and she did it up.

Landlord Granny: I even introduced her to her boyfriend, who lived in another one of my houses.

Landlord Granny: After they got married, they bought a house and moved out together. Before they left, they even came back here to take a photo together.

The granny took out her old phone and scrolled for a while before showing me a photo. It showed a young couple standing at the entrance of the alley with their luggage, both smiling brightly.

But my eyes were involuntarily drawn to a figure in the background. The figure was far away and small, hunched over, wearing an old-fashioned hat, with only a bit of their side profile visible.

They looked like an elderly person. I stared at them, and a strange intuition came over me.

You: No way...

Landlord Granny: Why not? They even gave me a box of wedding candies for being their matchmaker.

You: No, no. Grandma, do you know this person? Do they also live nearby?

I zoomed in on the photo and pointed to the man in the baseball cap, who was almost blending into the gray-blue wall. The old lady squinted and looked for a long time.

Landlord Granny: Oh, that hat... Isn't that Xiao Chen?

Landlord Granny: He's also one of my tenants. He lives in the attic upstairs. He's a tall and handsome young man.

Landlord Granny: It's just that he doesn't dress very neatly, always wearing hats, sunglasses, and masks.

If the hat, sunglasses, and mask were all used for disguise... My heart pounded. I wasn't mistaken. This person must be Charlie!

I've always understood that frequent contact would put him in danger, so I deliberately didn't ask for his address. But that doesn't mean I don't want to know how he's doing.

I clenched my palms and continued to chat casually with the landlord granny.

You: Grandma, can you tell me more about this Xiao Chen?

In the old and cozy house, I sat upright at the carved wooden table. The landlord granny placed a bowl of mung bean soup in front of me.

Landlord Granny: Freshly made, young lady, have some.

You: Mmm, okay...

I took a couple of reluctant sips, not because it wasn't delicious, but because the granny was sitting opposite me, looking at me with a cheerful and gossipy expression.

Landlord Granny: Go on, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's perfectly normal to like a handsome young man.

Landlord Granny: Feel free to ask anything you want to know.

It seemed she had misunderstood my intentions from the beginning. But since she said I could ask anything, there was no need for me to correct her.

You: Okay... well, when did Xiao Chen move in?

Landlord Granny: He hasn't been here long, less than two months, but many people around here know him.

You: Why is that?

The granny pointed out the window. Not far away, there was a small cart parked with a wooden board leaning against it. On the board, the words "Fresh Wontons" were scrawled in chalk.

Landlord Granny: Xiao Chen was poor when he first arrived. He couldn't find a job for a while and couldn't even afford the rent.

Landlord Granny: At that time, Old Liu, who sells wontons, injured his arm and couldn't run his stall. So he asked Xiao Chen.

Landlord Granny: He asked if Xiao Chen could help out, two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening, with pay and meals included.

Landlord Granny: The morning shift starts at five, and the evening shift goes until midnight. It's quite hard work, but surprisingly, Xiao Chen agreed.

Landlord Granny: He said he loves wontons and wants to open a wonton stall with someone he likes in the future. He considered this as practice beforehand.

I had just taken a sip of mung bean soup when I heard the words "practice beforehand." I choked and coughed several times. The granny quickly handed me some tissues.

Landlord Granny: Isn't he an interesting young man? He got to know everyone quickly.

I nodded. Charlie being poor was probably because he couldn't go to the bank to withdraw money when he was wanted.

I had imagined his initial days were very difficult, and now that thought was confirmed. But even so, he still bought me flowers. I lowered my eyes, feeling both touched and a bit sad.

Landlord Granny: But later he found a job and seems to be earning a decent amount. He's capable, don't worry.

Landlord Granny: I don't really know what his job is.

Landlord Granny: He's always fiddling with his computer in his room, wearing headphones. I guess he's in the IT industry.

I took a deep breath and nodded in agreement. If I wasn't mistaken, this was Charlie's surveillance plan.

You: Yeah, probably.

Landlord Granny: Come to think of it, no wonder he's so well-informed. He seems to have seen everything online.

That seemed like a stereotype about the IT industry... But Charlie did seem like he knew everything. I couldn't help but smile, feeling a bit curious.

You: What kind of things has he seen?

Landlord Granny: My leg has always had arthritis. I usually listen to health programs on the radio and buy some of the medicines they recommend.

Landlord Granny: Xiao Chen advised me, saying those things are expensive and their ingredients have no medicinal value.

Landlord Granny: I didn't quite believe him at first. I said, Xiao Chen, you're not a doctor, how can you tell?

You: Did you say that...

Landlord Granny: What did you say, dear? I didn't hear you clearly.

"Not a doctor." It was just a casual remark, but it stung a bit when I heard it. It was like being transported back to the night when Sun Taizhong was injured. If Charlie heard it, how would he feel?

You: It's nothing. Please continue. Did you believe him later?

Landlord Granny: I did. He sent me several... what do you call them... expert articles from public accounts.

Landlord Granny: They explained all the ingredients mentioned on the radio and even exposed the false claims about those medicines advertised on the radio.

You: Grandma, do you know the name of the public account? I'd like to take a look too.

The granny took out her phone, placed it on the table, and opened a chat window.

The profile picture in the chat window was a shadow stretched out on the road, surrounded by lush plane trees. It looked a bit like the small road I used to take on my way home from work.

Landlord Granny: I don't know the name, but it's this article. Take a look.

I leaned over to look, and the first thing I saw was a very eye-catching title: "Xianggu Essence Capsules are Fake! Protect Your Wallet!" Below it was the author's name: "Famous Doctor Charlie."

You: Famous Doctor Charlie...

I couldn't help but smile, as if I could see Charlie's smug expression when he typed that name.

I had already guessed it. How could there be such a coincidence that he just happened to have read an article debunking some unknown health product advertised on the radio? It was obviously written by him.

Landlord Granny: So, what do you think of Xiao Chen? Are you satisfied?

You: Uh, satisfied or not...

The sudden question was a bit like picking out pork at the market, but it showed that the granny had a very good impression of Charlie. Under her eager gaze, I nodded.

Landlord Granny: But dear, Xiao Chen is good in every way, except for one thing. You need to consider it carefully.

Seeing me agree, the granny's tone changed, becoming serious.

Landlord Granny: His health seems to be a bit problematic recently. I don't know how he'll be in the future.

You: Really?! What's wrong with him?

Startled, my voice rose a few pitches.

Landlord Granny: It seems like headaches. Once, when I was going out, I saw him, a grown man, squatting in the stairwell.

Landlord Granny: His face was pale, as if he was unconscious.

Landlord Granny: I called out to him several times, and he just asked me if I could pick up his phone from the ground and make a call.

Landlord Granny: I said I'd call 120 for him, but he said no, not 120, and then said forget it, no need to call.

Landlord Granny: It took a long time before he stood up and left. I don't think it's a minor illness.

I froze, feeling a chill all over. When did his headaches become so severe? If left untreated, could there be serious consequences? The thought made my nose tingle with worry.

Landlord Granny: When the time comes, you should ask him about it properly...

The landlord granny was still giving me instructions, but I couldn't respond. Thankfully, a knock on the door interrupted her. She answered and went to open the door.

???: I'm here to pay the rent.

Landlord Granny: Oh, isn't it Xiao Chen?

Xiao Chen - those two words made my ears buzz.

In disbelief, I slowly turned my head. The door opened a crack, and warm sunlight spilled in, outlining a familiar silhouette.

Wearing a low-brimmed hat, sunglasses, and a mask, his expression was hidden, but I could feel that he, too, had frozen in place at that moment.

Landlord Granny: Come in, Xiao Chen, have a seat and some mung bean soup.

Charlie seemed to realize that his hand was still on the doorknob. He gently closed the door and walked in. The wooden stool creaked as he pulled it out, and he sat down beside me.

Landlord Granny: Xiao Chen, do you have a girlfriend?

The granny went to the kitchen to get more mung bean soup. Her voice came through the wall. Charlie Su glanced at me, and somehow, I felt he must be smiling.

Charlie: Are you asking because you want to introduce me to someone?

Landlord Granny: You got it!

The granny placed the bowl on the table. It was from the same set as mine, decorated with dragons and phoenixes, very festive.

Landlord Granny: Xiao Chen, this young lady saw your photo and fell in love at first sight. She came specifically to inquire about you.

You: No, that's not---

Landlord Granny: It's okay, young lady. If you're embarrassed, just pretend this old lady is talking nonsense.

Charlie turned his face towards me. This time, his gaze was intent. Sitting closer, I could almost see through his sunglasses, even the purple in his eyes was blurry, but the overflowing longing and joy were exceptionally clear.

I couldn't help but stare back at him, and we remained like that for who knows how long. The granny reached out and waved her hand in front of us.

Landlord Granny: Xiao Chen, don't stare at the young lady like that, you'll scare her away.

Charlie didn't look away. His voice was sincere and gentle.

Charlie: I think I've also fallen in love with her at first sight.

Earlier, when the landlord granny teased us, I didn't react much. But now, my face instantly turned red, as if we were truly meeting for the first time.

Charlie: What should we do, miss? I want to take you out on a date right away.

Landlord Granny: A date, that's wonderful!

The granny was beaming, unable to contain her smile. She pulled out a few boxes from a cloth bag at her feet.

Landlord Granny: It's just perfect that you're here, Xiao Chen. Take these with you.

Landlord Granny: I listened to your advice and went to the hospital to check my joints. They prescribed some painkillers for me.

Landlord Granny: The doctor said this medicine hasn't been released yet, and only their hospital can prescribe it. It's very effective and can also be used for headaches.

Charlie: Oh? Where was it prescribed?

Landlord Granny: The First People's Hospital.

The box landed on the table. Charlie's gaze darkened. I saw it too. The label on the medicine box clearly read "DEA."

However, only for a moment. Charlie's expression quickly returned to normal. He picked up the medicine box and casually put it in his pocket.

Charlie: I think I've heard that this medicine has some side effects.

Landlord Granny: Really? My husband and several of my friends are taking it. The doctor said it's fine.

Landlord Granny: I'm not sure. I'll go back and look for that public account article later.

Charlie: Don't take it for the next few days.

Leaving the granny's house, Charlie and I walked side-by-side down the alley. The entire alley was bathed in the orange-red glow of the sunset. I couldn't help but keep glancing at him.

Charlie: Fiancée, what do you think I should say or do now?

Charlie had already taken off his sunglasses and hung them on his lapel, but he still wore his mask.

You: What did you plan to do when we met again?

Charlie: Just like I said on the phone, I wanted to admire the airship with our names on it together with you.

He looked at the horizon, his voice trembling slightly. But I knew it wasn't a bad kind of trembling.

Because my voice was the same. It meant that our long-awaited hearts had finally found satisfaction.

The granny's words echoed in my mind, along with DEA and his illness. But I didn't have time to ask him about all of that.

I walked around in front of Charlie and reached out to gently remove his mask from his ears.

He had lost some weight, his face was pale, and his features were more defined. I opened my mouth.

You: I finally get to see you again.

Almost at the same time, Charlie leaned down and hugged me tightly.

Charlie: Me too, fiancée, me too.

For a long time afterward, we didn't say anything. We just held each other, feeling each other's breath and the rise and fall of our chests.

We were already very close, but the arms around my back tightened even more, almost painfully so.

You: Charlie, I can't breathe...

Charlie loosened his grip a bit, but not much. His warm breath lingered by my ear.

Charlie: My saint. You're suddenly so close to me, it's a bit overwhelming.

Charlie: Haven't you heard that people who have been hungry for too long can't eat too much at once?

I couldn't help but laugh.

You: Such a simple analogy, is that something Young Master Charlie would say?

Charlie: Why would I need to sweet-talk my fiancée?

He said it matter-of-factly, but to me, it sounded sweeter than any sweet nothings. My eyes stung, and I couldn't help but lightly punch his back.

Charlie: Why are you hitting me?

You: I won't tell you.

Charlie: I know even if you don't tell me. It's my fiancée's overflowing love for me.

I wanted to hit him again, but my face felt hot, and I couldn't bring my raised hand down.

We separated a little. We had hugged many times before, but thinking back to that moment just now still made me feel a bit embarrassed. Charlie probably felt the same way, staring straight ahead seriously.

Charlie: How did you find this place?

Charlie: When I saw you, I wondered if I had stepped into a rabbit hole.

I told him the whole story of how I was looking for a house, saw the photo, and recognized his figure in the background. Charlie raised his eyebrows.

Charlie: I know that photo.

Charlie: Back then, when my father discovered my whereabouts, he sent a few people to find me. They saw it too, but they didn't recognize me.

You: What?! Your father sent people to find you?!

Charlie: Don't worry, I didn't leave them anything except a few empty water bottles.

Charlie: And after they left, this place became the safest place.

I was slightly relieved, but there was still one question.

You: How did they even think of looking at that photo?

Charlie: It seems the landlord mentioned to them that a newlywed couple had moved out.

Charlie: I don't know what kind of information my father gave them, but they were incredibly sensitive to the word "marriage."

Charlie: They thought one of the newlyweds was me.

Charlie looked at me with a playful smile, and I quickly understood why they were so sensitive to the word "marriage." It was because Charlie kept calling me his "fiancée."

Seeing my knowing expression, Charlie let out a long sigh.

Charlie: I thought my disguise was flawless.

Charlie: I never expected that you would recognize me from such a small shadow.

You: Should I pretend that I didn't recognize you, that it was just a coincidence, and let Young Master Charlie be happy about his disguise skills?

Charlie: There's no need.

Charlie lowered his eyes, his curved eyelashes casting a shadow on his face. His thin lips parted, and he said:

Charlie: I'm even happier that you recognized me. I'm going crazy with joy.

Whoa, whoa. An alarm bell was going off in my head. Was it because I hadn't seen him for so long? Why was my heart pounding irregularly? I quickly turned my face away.

You: Okay, Xiao Chen, stop teasing. Didn't you say you were taking me on a date?

Charlie paused for a moment, a flicker of hesitation and sadness crossing his face.

Charlie: Fiancée, actually...

You: We can go anywhere for our date.

I finished his sentence. I had already sensed that after the initial joy faded, something else was weighing on his mind. But whatever it was, I was willing to help.

Charlie stared at me for a while, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

Charlie: I have an appointment this afternoon with an organization called the Drug Safety Assurance Association.

Charlie: I'm going to talk to them about the side effects of DEA.

You: Great, let's go together.

As soon as I said that, we looked at each other. We had fought side-by-side too many times; there was no need for further explanation or persuasion.

Charlie sighed dramatically and shook his head in mock helplessness.

Charlie: I was relatively inconspicuous on my own, but with such a dazzling fiancée by my side, I'm afraid we'll be discovered immediately.

I knew it was a playful joke, but it did remind me that going together would increase the risk of exposure. I hadn't considered that carefully enough.

Charlie noticed my silence, and his expression turned serious.

Charlie: It seems I made a tasteless joke.

You: No, it's not that. I was just thinking that two people together would indeed...

Charlie took off his sunglasses from his lapel and put them on me. Then he took out a mask from his pocket, opened the package, and put it on me.

Charlie: There's no "indeed." Isn't this better?

I glanced at the mask from the corner of my eye and saw a small bird printed on the lower right corner. Charlie's mask had the same bird printed on the upper left corner.

You: Why are they couple masks again?

Charlie: That's because I've always wanted to play the role of a Bonnie and Clyde duo with my fiancée.

He looked happy. I thought back to his "tasteless" joke earlier. Although it was a joke, I could vaguely sense his inner hesitation.

Just like how he had such severe headaches but never mentioned them to me. Was it because he was worried about me, or was he afraid of making me worry? I tugged on his sleeve.

You: From now on, if you have a headache, call me. Don't hesitate.

It was an abrupt statement, but after a moment of stunned silence, Charlie nodded solemnly.

Charlie: Okay.

I strode forward, pulling his trench coat sleeve long.

You: Let's go! How are we getting there?

Charlie: Let's borrow the steed of Spyders II.

Chapter 18-09

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#light and night #light and night translations #evan #sariel #osborn #jesse #charlie #light and night chapter 18 translation #light and night main story translation #lu chen #xiao yi #qi si li #xia ming xing #zha li su

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Transform Your Space: Top Home Decor Trends for 2024 best color combinations for bedroom walls

Best color combinations for bedroom walls as we step into 2024, domestic decor continues to adapt, reflecting a mix of undying elegance and progressive functionality. This yr’s developments exhibit a deep appreciation for craftsmanship, sustainability, and personal expression. Here’s a comprehensive guide to the key domestic decor developments of 2024, imparting insights on how to refresh and increase your dwelling areas.

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Art Deco Revival

Art Deco is making a amazing comeback in 2024, with its expensive and sumptuous fashion being reinterpreted for modern interiors. Characterized by using geometric shapes, wealthy colorations, and elegant materials, Art Deco provides a hint of glamour to any area.

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Personalized Spaces

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#Eco-friendly home decoration #Modern farmhouse home decor ideas #Best color combinations for bedroom walls

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