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cow-smells · 4 years ago

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Jealousy Games [Part 2] ( Demetri x reader )

Request: Hi can u do prompt #3 from ur prompt list with demetri ? (anon)

Prompt: 3. “You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?”

A/N: fully intended this to be shameless smut, but alas, the plot took over. smut will be in the next part ;)

Words: 1536

Warnings: nothing really, suggestive themes at most.

Part 1

Summary: A storm forces the reader to stay at Demetri's; unfortunately, he's not the only one after her company.

Read this on AO3

“Thanks for letting me stay for dinner,” you gracefully thank Demetri's mom. You had gotten to know her once you started coming over to Demetri's a couple of months ago to “study” and it was clear she liked you, always inviting you to stay for dinner and urging you to come visit more often. “I should be getting home.”

“In this weather?” she peered out the dining room window; it had begun to hail. It had begun raining earlier that day but you couldn't be bothered by it, much too busy with Demetri to even consider the weather outside or how you were to navigate home in it. “Certainly not. Call your mother, tell her you're staying here for the night. She'll understand, no parent would want their child driving on that ice. You can stay in Demetri's room and Demetri can take the couch.”

You gave Demetri a passing look so quick it almost didn't happen; you didn't want to show his mom just how eager you were to stay. “Okay,” you agreed. “Yeah, I'll go call her real quick.”

You took to the privacy of Demetri's room to notify your mum about your plans, to which she agreed, not willing to let you risk the dangerous ride home.

“So?” Demetri asks as her enters his room a few minutes after you did, shutting the door behind himself. You grinned, pleased.

“All clear.” you wrap your arms around Demetri's neck, pulling him down for a passionate kiss. You shiver in to him, enjoying the way his hands glide down to the small of your back, holding you close. After a minute he pulls away, clearing his throat.

“This is... really great, but I actually came to fetch you. My mom wondered if we want to see a movie all together, and... You know my mom. It's not much of a question.”

You grinned cheekily, assuming this was her way of keeping tabs on you both. “Sure,” you agreed. “I'd love that.”

It's nearly an hour in to the movie when Hawk starts blowing up your phone. The living room's lights were off, supposed to immerse you further in to the movie you were watching, but inevitably emphasizing the brightness of your phone screen to an unignorable point.

You picked up your phone when it began to ring. Seeing it was just Hawk, you silenced the call and put your phone back down on the coffee table, assuming that would be it. You didn't notice Demetri's eyes darting to your phone when you had picked it up before, you leaning a little further in to him as you leaned your back back on to the sofa.

It was two minutes later that your phone lit up again with Hawk's name, your ringtone blaring. “Sorry,” you apologized to no one in particular, silencing the call one more, this time putting your phone on mute and leaving it by your side so you could monitor it quicker.

Demetri tensed by your side, agitation creeping up in him. He knew you were friendly with the Cobra Kai's, but he didn't know to what extent your friendship with Eli went. He bit his plump bottom lip, trying and failing not to think about what might be going on between you two. Eli already had everything Demetri wanted; friends, confidence, courage. He didn't know what he'd do if he'd get you too.

Your phone keeps lighting up until the movie is finished, texts from your friends coloring the screen.

(20:45) Hawk👊: Where the fuck are you? Pick up.

(20:52) Hawk👊: We're all going to Aisha's to hang until the storm's over.

Send me your location, I'll come pick you up.

(21:07) Aisha💕: Whats up? Hawk said you aren't answering him.

Come overrrrrrr!

(21:15) Hawk👊: Y/N!

(21:23) Tory: Wya?

(21:35) Aisha💕: For the love of God, please answer Hawk

He's driving us all mad

(22:01) Hawk👊 : I'm coming over

The final text came as credits started rolling, much to your relief. You took your phone in your hands to answer when Demetri's mom rose, stretching her arms up high with a yawn. “Well, I'm calling it a night. I expect you two to do the same soon, yes?” You both agreed – and with that, She left.

You typed a reply.

To: Hawk 👊

(22:03) You're drunk. Don't come over. I'll talk to you Monday :)

Demetri looked away, trying to decide what he was to do. He couldn't help overseeing your texts, you were right beside him after all; and if he was to be completely honest, his insecurity was rising beyond levels he was comfortable with. It was one thing swaying you away from your fantasies about Sensei Lawrence; that was schoolgirl wishful thinking, at best. But Hawk? Hawk was readily available, practically in your hands already.

And you – you were going to “talk to him on Monday”. What about? Demetri's anxiety pestered him. Would you rather be with Hawk right now, only with him because you were stuck there?

As if to solidify the thought, Hawk called you once more right after he read your text – and this time, you answered.

“Hey.” Demetri grew restless in his seat, seeing you smile to yourself as you heard the other boys voice. “No, no, no... No, I'm serious!” despite your words, you chuckled. Demetri felt sick. “You're obviously drunk. I can hear it in your voice! Don't worry about me. Just stay at Aisha's. Promise?” you cooed at Hawk through the phone, as though he were a child. “Okay. Yeah. I'll text you tomorrow. Give Aisha a kiss from me.” You roared laughing at something Hawk said. Demetri rose, not finding the comfort to be able to stay still any longer. “Have fun... Bye.” with that, you hung up the call, a smile still gracing your features.

“You guys are really close, huh?” Demetri asked, halting his pacing.

“Um, I wouldn't say close. Friends, I guess.”

“You -” Demetri stopped himself, reconsidering his words. “He obviously wants you.”

“Um -” you began, disbelief on your face. “I – don't think so. Besides, what's that even matter? I'm here with you.”

With a grin, you reach out to pull Demetri to you, looking up at him. His brow was still furrowed with concern; you wanted to kiss it all away. How could he still not tell how you felt about him, only him?

“Is this even where you want to be?”

Your smile widens before you plant a gentle kiss on Demetri's hipbone. “No where else.”

With that, you rise to stand too. “So, are you gonna offer me pajamas or do you expect me to sleep in a skirt?”

Demetri's eyes widened, at what thought exactly you weren't sure. “Uhh - Of course. You can choose out anything you want from my closet, I'll wait here. Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

“Okay,” you agree cheerfully and turn on your heel to his room, amused by the privacy Demetri was granting you so gentlemanly-like, as though he hadn't experienced much more of you just hours prior.

You closed the door after yourself, leaving you all alone in Demetri's room for the very first time. You trailed a finger along his desk until you reached his closet, ready to dig through until you'd find his comfiest-looking hoodie. But then, seeing one of your favorite t-shirts of his, a different idea came to mind.

Rummaging through piles of neatly folded clothes to get it, your hand scratched itself on something when you retracted it, shirt in hand.

Curiosity spiked, you burrowed through the piles to find a golden line of condoms hidden.

It would seem as though Demetri remembered what he was hiding too, as a sudden knock on the door startled you, prompting you to hide the condoms where you found them.

“Y/n?” Demetri's voice called from the other side of the door, loud enough for you to hear but hushed enough to not wake his mom up. “Are you – um – finding everything alright?”

You giggled to yourself, the nervous undertone to Demetri's words obvious; he wanted to know if you found what you had without asking directly.

“Yeah,” you gleefully replied. “Give me a minute.”

Quickly stripping off all of your clothes, you toss on a green shirt adorned with a large pai sign splayed on its front. The hem of the shirt reached the middle of your thighs, with Demetri being so much taller than you. You took a deep breath, stepping to stand in front of the bed before calling, “You can come in now.”

Tentatively, Demetri opened the door. His eyes couldn't help but rake over your body, from your bare legs all the way up to his t-shirt. He swallowed hard, trying to burn the image of you in to his mind.

He suddenly noticed the pile of clothes you left on the floor; notedly, the pair of panties peeking beneath your discarded skirt.

“You’re n-not, um, w-wearing anything under that, are you..?” Demetri asked, his big blue-green eyes widening in awe.

You smile michevously. “No.”

---

Tag list: @lllyyysss02 @deadpvet lmk if you want on :)

#cobra kai imagine #cobra kai #demetri cobra kai #cobra kai demetri #cobra kai demetri imagine #cobra kai demetri x reader #demetri imagine

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obnoxiouslylongandboring · 4 years ago

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Sirene

Featuring snapshots of the three most important road trips in Zemo and John's journey of working together.

Le notti a cercare buone stelle

Ritrovarsi in mezzo a strane sorti

Quanto siamo storti

HARKANSA PASS, ROMANIA

John loosened his grip on the steering wheel, leaned back into the leather-clad seat with a sigh. He took his eyes off the road briefly to look at Zemo from his peripheral vision. The wind was whipping through the man's hair, throwing it up into a wild brown halo, strands nearly shining golden where it was struck by the sun. Zemo's face had regained some color since their trip started two hours ago. The shadows had faded from his cheekbones and under his eyes, leaving the barely noticeable smattering of freckles behind. He had started slouching slightly in his seat like a cat, squinting against the setting sun.

The trees were whizzing past them, behind them, in front of them. John had wanted to track some of them down with his eyes, a stray bird there, an oddly shaped trunk there, but they sped away as soon as they came, leaving him disoriented and dizzy.

He asked if Zemo was comfortable, and that seemed to rouse the man out of some daydream, who had to blink several times to get the dazed look out of his eyes and process John's question, before nodding. Zemo seemed to struggle with himself, lips opening and closing wordlessly a few times, then came a hesitant question after a while, torn away by the wind, "Do you need me to take over?"

"At the next stop," John replied. The next stop would be a few hours away, but Zemo didn't need to know that. For good measure, he reached over and gave Zemo a little pinch on the back of the neck just to see the man squirm. "Thanks for asking."

"... Likewise."

John tilted his head slightly to make sure Zemo could see his smile.

The road around them was wide enough only for two cars, and that was enough since not many cars came around this road. The sun was setting, the clouds were low. They were paper-thin wisps in the distance, but dark sinking little pieces of debris above his head that looked like concrete rubble. They were so solid and impenetrable that the sunlight clung to their edges, never sinking in, making them a beautiful red. John thought beautiful, beautiful, beautiful over and over again till he thought he would pass out with the wonder of it all, the landscapes he imagined as a child.

In front of them, the mountains were falling away, the sides of the high cliffs were fading, the layers and layers of dirt and rock giving away. John found himself almost missing what had gone, the stupid little yellow trees perched on the side of cliffs, or the huge huge walls beside him as he drove, like they were carving a path through, and how the rays would slip out from the peaks of the cliffs, would splatter the hood of the car in yellow, and they would play with him, mischievous, slipping away into complete grey one second, and blinding him like a laser the next.

Yellow, yellow, like autumn, stretching up and up so high and high that if he lifted his head up all the way to see the tops, he would lose sight of the road. And he'd be so enraptured and hypnotized, eyes held up to the sky, not paying attention to their direction anymore, maybe not even caring.

The road swerved left and right in staccato in front of him.

"It's odd, John, to choose a road like this..." Zemo says.

"It's odd?"

"Not many roads are like this one. Not many roads, especially not roads to deliver vibranium..." Zemo murmured, trailing off. For a moment, the illusion was shattered and John was reminded of the six kilograms of vibranium in their trunk, his soon-to-be shield.

"Maybe odd wouldn't be the right word for it," The other man rectified. He was smiling. "Magnificent is a more apt description."

So the walls were falling now. Beside him, Zemo sits up a bit straighter, leans forward in anticipation. The moment their view clears, beside him, he hears a shaky gasp of wonder- beautiful, echoing his own thoughts.

Zemo looked like a child seeing fireworks for the first time.

It took a few seconds for him to realize that he had forgotten to revel in his own wonder and joy, or throw up his own love to the light, that first experience, the wonder and mystery beyond every singing of it, as your world opened up and drew you in; one gate closing and one gate opening, in a little bubble, a snow globe. He had missed it. He had missed the half-second that would lift the air from his lungs in a roar.

It wasn't the splendid view that imprinted itself into his retinas, it was another man's joy.

He tastes something bittersweet at the back of his throat.

He put his gaze back to the road, continuing to drive, but then Zemo tugged at him insistently. "Stop, stop," Zemo whispered. So he pressed on the brakes, the car rumbled to a slow stop. Zemo reached over, turns the ignition off, and without any other words he opened the car door and steps out.

The crunch of boots on a rock-and-asphalt road was a welcome relief to the hum of the engine. He moved out of the car, went to stand beside Zemo. And that was when he hears.

Everything was silent. Pure silence. Then it began. The wind started to pick up into a howl over the hills, darting through the trees and bushes, and all the around them there was such a loud overwhelming rush of leaves, the groaning and creaking of trunks, that John felt that the world was nearly trembling apart in his hands. The two of them were so minuscule in the large expanse of landscape, yet he felt completely in control.

And in front of him stretched mountains long and unending and ceaseless, fading away into the clouds, and at the closer slope of the valley, winding down roads, the sides were painted with trees, tall towering spikes of green shooting through the land like needles through a needle cushion, so tall that even in the distance they appeared huge, and if you were to stand under one of them you could not raise your head high enough to see the top, the trunks that you could not wrap your arms around, everywhere you looked half your vision would be smothered by wood and bark and pine needles.

They were the most beautiful brilliant shade of hunter green, like oil paint, a stark contrast to the yellow-green of the soft meadows below. That shade of yellow-green was like if he looked at a grass field of canola flowers and backed away far enough until everything blended together. Down in the winding roads, there was a small little farmhouse, red and dainty, its shadow cast long against the ground by the sun's rays. John was reminded, and he looked back, at his own shadow, both of their shadows. A little smile played on his lips as he realized that their height difference was made more apparent by the sunset.

In the distance, the mountains were the pale shade of blue cast over by the clouds. Blue and golden mixed in with the sunlight. Ah. Maybe he had an epiphany then, for John thought, blue. It was blue that he was smelling, blue and golden in the air all around them. He looked to Zemo again. There was the hazy swirl of pollen in the air, settling on his eyelashes and his nose, blown from the flowers down the valley. He was coated with it, that invisible perfume.

John laughed. "Pretty," he said.

"More than pretty," Zemo said. "It's magnificent."

John smiled wider and wordlessly turns to the horizon again.

The sun touched his skin, his face, leaving his back cold. It was just a saturated red bloom across the horizon line now, fading into the mountains. And it became dark so quickly, so soon, that John was surprised when he looked at Zemo once again and saw that the other man's pupils were black and dilated like a cat's. The trees seemed to grow taller in the darkness, stretched by their shadow. The grass shined wet and oily with the moonlight. The world became a lot bigger, as the blackness of earth merged into the blackness of the sky, spiraling into galaxies and constellations above them.

He pointed to Zemo the Big Dipper, the Cassiopeia, and finds Polaris, the true North. They were stars that he'd trace in the war zones, above the sound of gunfire, to get him home. Then the Orion, and to Mintaka, the first star to rise in the constellation. Through all this, Zemo listened silently, occasionally nodding or asking questions.

He draped a blanket over Zemo's shoulders. He let his hands linger there, tracing the edge of the fabric, then slipped one hand under his purple turtleneck, resting at Zemo's trembling hips. There were bruises there, in the shape of his fingers. Some yellow and fading, some new. This was more intimate than usual, tonight, a new game that Zemo wasn't used to. But it would be back to normal in the morning, and John would remember that there was nothing gentle about Zemo, nothing redeemable for all his cruelty and vengeance and loathing. And Zemo would hurt him, over and over, taking him apart bit by bit, only to lie in bed shaking and shuddering, screaming John's name as he came, snarling hurt me, make me feel it, in a twisted form of self-punishment.

But for now, he could savor the moment. Those pretty eyes hold his own, nearly black in the darkness. John knew they were the true shade of brown, pools of honey in the light.

Maybe poison or aphrodisiac would be more accurate, for who he really was.

He couldn't resist - "Pretty."

John didn't need gentle. He's learned that gentleness is only a disguise for something more insidious. He needed madness and sin. Zemo was both in spades, and pretty as a striking cobra.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Zemo laughed hoarsely, but pulled him down into a kiss nonetheless.

Inspiration and images were taken from:

Zion National Park, United States (Utah)

Black Canyon of the Gunnison, United States (Colorado)

Trollstigen, Norway

Transfăgărășan road, Romania

Karakoram Highway, China-Pakistan

Images were taken from Google, not owned by me. Harkansa Pass is not a real location.

#walkerbaron #zemo #john walker #baron zemo #landscape #road trip #love and sin #hahahaha #spent 4 hours on this

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famouszoom · 2 years ago

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waldos-writing · 7 years ago

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The Sometimes Thief - Chapter 2: Tuesday’s Child is Full of Grace

“It’s a little complicated,” said Albert, moving around the kitchen and spying the ice cream churning away. “How long until that’s done.”

No! Simon waved his arms emphatically and came over to shove Albert away from the ice cream maker. You can’t have any. We have to save it until tomorrow so Bethany O—. Simon stopped signing and just shoved Albert back more. No, he signed again.

“Don’t push me,” said Albert, his brows crinkled. “Look, you’ll teach her bad manners and I’m not letting that happen.”

Me? I’m the one who’s going to teach her bad manners? Simon spun to look at the girl standing still in the center of the kitchen, her hands draped carelessly at her side as she watched the two men push each other back and forth. Albert reached over to get a taste of some of the chocolate still sitting in the double burner—the heat thankfully turned off so it wouldn’t cook to a rock—before Simon slapped his hand away. Who is she?

“I’m not doing this,” said Albert, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m not doing this.”

You can’t just walk—

“I’m not doing this tonight, okay? It’s late. And I’m tired. I’m tired!” Albert looked back at the girl and waved his hands at her. “How about you, sweetheart, you tired? I bet. Been basically halfway ‘cross the world. C’mon.”

There was no way this was going to end like this. Not tonight. Not on such an impossibility as Albert Halloway singing his way back when his song should be closed. With a girl he claimed as his daughter. Simon slapped the table to get his brother’s attention and jabbed a finger up towards Albert’s huge hooked nose.

How? Simon sighed, mouthing it as wide as he could manage. But Albert only scoffed and rolled his eyes. We both know your song is for midnight. So.

Simon motioned around the room, at the two bodies standing in their kitchen, and at the clock on the wall very clearly marked at 11:11. Simon couldn’t help but remind himself to make a wish when he saw the time, but he scowled afterwards, turning his ire back over on his brother.

“I’m not doing this,” Albert said more insistently. He tapped his fingers against his chin before he spun on his thin black sneakers and reached for the refrigerator. Simon made a move to block his path, but Albert was taller, bigger, and always stronger. He got into the fridge easily, retrieving a package of deli meat. “Hey now, turkey. You like turkey?” he asked the girl beside the kitchen island. She didn’t nod, didn’t shake her head either. She barely blinked. “Yeah. Turkey sounds good. We got any bread now, Simon, or we just gonna have to eat this like animals?”

Simon huffed, crossing his arms as he glared at his simple brother. He stood stock still near the ice cream maker, to deter any further attempts at sampling from it, as Albert shrugged and took the deli meat over to the counter, popping open the red plastic lid. He fingered out a sliver of meat and tucked it away in his cheek, humming around the turkey with a smile. He fished out another and was about to eat it when he glanced down at the girl again. Albert held out a piece to her, waiting for a reaction. She did not budge.

“It’s good,” he said, dangling it off his index finger with a singsong promise in his voice. “Might make ya feel better.”

She did not even blink.

“Alright,” he said and shrugged, popping the turkey slice into his mouth. He took three more, chewed them noisily, and replaced the lid on the container. “Right. Well. I’m bushed. She’s bushed. We’re all going to bed, aren’t we? Also, where’s Cairn? Hey Big Boy, why aren’t you here for Daddy? C’mon out now, it’s me, sweetheart. He’s in, isn’t he?”

Simon didn’t answer. He’d take a cue from the disturbing young child and leave him with nothing. There were too many questions to ask and he knew it would be a long time asking them. Simon closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned over towards the sink. He grabbed the packet of matchsticks there next to his pruned mint and struck it against the flint, scooping the tiny flame up to another cigarette.

“Oh, hey,” said Albert, his head back in the fridge. “Don’t smoke in front of her, okay? Bad habits, man.”

Simon puffed a few times, shoulders sagging as the nicotine and smoke curled around his throat. He would have scoffed, but he was trying his damndest to leave Albert with nothing. He took a long drag and blew the smoke out across his plants, despite the fact that they hadn’t done anything wrong and didn’t deserve it. Well, he didn’t deserve a lot of things either. Simon clicked his tongue against his teeth and went straight for his bedroom. It didn’t matter. He could hear Albert cooing after Cairn by the time he was at his door, Simon’s presence soon forgotten.

One song for noon. One song for midnight. One song for summer. One song for winter. One song for taking. One song for giving. One song for noon. One song for midnight.

There are, of course, rules to the halloways, despite what some amateurs may believe. The gift itself is inherited amongst the line that created it—found it, being more accurate. It is a gift that is fickle, bestowed upon the family line at random and with no regard of who might or might not wish to use it. The songs themselves came a long time ago, by a Mrs. Evelyn Halloway of Westmanchestireville in what is now a southern providence of the UK, rezoned and obliterated of its history. Mr. Richard Halloway gave the poem to his children as a guideline, a wrote to the writ of how their songs worked and how they should be expected to behave when they used them. One for noon. One for midnight. The poem was simplistic, but it’s execution less so. There were few Halloways that actually had a song for noon and midnight. Their father’s song, Mr. Richard Halloway’s song, was for 2:57 am. It didn’t matter where he was in the world, as long as it was 2:57 am, then he could sing open a halloway plain as you like, and be on his way. Their grandfather, William Halloway, had a song for 7:17 pm. Somehow, Simon and Albert were gifted the actual stream of noon and midnight, in that order. And weren’t they lucky for it? There was something deliriously magical about noon and midnight. Something so stern and neat. So long as they followed the rules. So long as they sang their song.

And yet, despite every instance to prove otherwise, Mr. Richard Halloway believed he could find the song that would open every passage at any hour of the day and give him complete control of the ethereal web we know as Time. Perhaps that is why he did what he did to Simon all those years ago. Perhaps that is why Albert slips away for weeks at a time, hunting down the one thing that might knit them back into a cohesive unit he dreams is called a family. But that is getting beyond things, and neglects the fact that there are, of course, rules. Of course.

Exceptions to the rules are want to happen.

Of course.

And they have.

Of course.

Cairn wasn’t there to wake him up that morning. He’d call the lanky gray cat a traitor, but it was unfair to ask allegiance of an animal who knew Albert as the man who rescued him, fed him for many occasions, and loved him a touch more than Simon did. This was life. This was how cats were. This was something that didn’t bother him except that it did, and the fact that it did bothered him, so he buried that down too and swallowed it all up with a dry gulp. There were other things to be upset about.

Simon stirred unpleasantly, sheets coiled around his ankles, blanket swallowing an arm by his side like a vice grip in the inky remainder of a dream. Something about a face? Or a girl? Something about red thread and pain? Except it didn’t matter. Once he was conscience, he knew exactly what it was he was supposed to be furious with. Memories and wandering psyche aside, it was his brother in the other room there that should have his attention. Simon threw away his blankets with a shove and leapt out of the bed, ignoring a twinge in his back and a dull ache at the bottom of his feet.

Damn for getting old, he thought with a miserable snarl before he marched out of his bedroom. The mirrors laced the hallway, back and forth, back and forth, and he was greeted with the bronze bust of Albert’s stupid face. Just as he was every morning. Just as he was in his nightmares and in the afterlife and echoing on in any reincarnation that might find him, he figured. That stupid. Bronze. Bust.

At least this morning Simon had sense to wear his pajamas and an old gray shirt with the UoB Cobras painted on it in flaky white. His feet were bare, per usual, and there was a cool draft snaking around the floorboards, prickling his toes. Not that he minded. No time to mind when he was out to hunt down his brother and get some answers or at the very least strangle the life out of him.

Albert and the girl were in the kitchen, as though waiting for Simon to come out and join them. They were each sitting at the small dining table set, a breakfast nook at best. It was a circular table with two chairs and a simple cozy sitting out in the center. The lace cozy was weighed down with napkins, a stack of crocheted coasters in various colors, a covered dish of sugar, and a few spoons. Albert had a bowl of cereal in front of him. The Frosted Mini Wheats kept in the upper corner of their pantry for when Albert was actually home. He scooped a few of the soggy treats up into his mouth, chewing efficiently, his mouth thankfully closed. Chewing like a cow was not one of the habits that Albert had inherited from Mr. Richard Halloway. But even as he chewed, he kept a firm lock on the girl sitting across from him. He hunched over his bowl, one arm wrapped around it in a haphazard, passing thought at security over his food, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He was in a surprisingly simple outfit that morning. Plain white V-neck, dark jeans, no socks, and black loafers. He looked like a regular fellow then. Anybody, really, except for the Halloway nose and the untamed blonde hair.

The girl was still in her outfit from last night. And she was not taking any bites from the bowl of cereal in front of her.

“I don’t know what she eats,” Albert said without looking up. He must have heard Simon enter the hallway, despite the fact that he hadn’t made a move to signal his entrance. “Can’t tell if she’s hungry or stubborn.” Simon signed over to him, but Albert didn’t even glance back. “She’s taking after her Uncle Simon right now, aren’t ya? Can’t get her to say a word to me. Is that odd? Should I be concerned?”

That got a long, resigned sigh from Simon. Enough of one that Albert finally looked up from his bowl and gave his brother his full attention. The two regarded each other quietly, with less furrowed brows and pouting lips than before.

“I don’t know,” Albert finally said. “I don’t know, man, I’ve tried.”

Simon came over to the table and stood at the end. They’d only ever needed two chairs between them, and having them both occupied at the moment put Simon in an awkward position. He shooed Albert out of his seat, handing over the bowl of mostly-eaten Frosted Mini Wheats before he sat across from the girl.

Name? he signed. Albert leaned in like he had misheard, and Simon pointed over at the girl. Her name? Does she have a name?

“Oh. Her. Uh, well, I’ve just been calling her Evelyn, because I’m pretty certain if I had a daughter, that’s what I’d have named her. Y’know, cause…? The one who got the songs and such? God, remember how Dad used to go on and on and on about Evelyn? Anyways, yeah. That’s what I’d name my daughter. And she is my daughter.” Albert scooped up another mouthful of Mini Wheats before he added his last amendment he’d provided last night. “I think.”

What do you mean you think? You don’t know?

Albert nodded and tapped his head. There should have been an empty dull knock against his skull. He shrugged. He chewed. He just stood there like an idiot, offering nothing in return as far as answers or even apology were concerned, which Simon felt he was due anyhow. Instead, he turned back to the girl and waved.

Evelyn was a slight girl, shorter than Simon’s hip with short blonde hair and big eyes. She looked bruised under her chin, her arms, and around the neck, faint yellow and green markings from some altercation a long time off. She breathed evenly, not offering a smile, a nudge, a twitch of the lips or nose. She just…stared. Her eyes were on Albert, drawn to him, unwavering.

Hello, Simon signed to her and waved again. Do you know how you got here?

Evelyn blinked and turned her gaze fully on Simon at last. It was as cold and unfeeling as he imagined the Cyba patrols looked in 2121, the ones that Albert had nicked a motherboard from and brought back to his usual set of collectors.

Evelyn snaked a finger up from under the table. When she began to move, Simon and Albert leaned back, flinching away for different reasons—fear and alarm for part of it, disgust and distrust for the other. A mingling palate of emotions. When she brought her hand up, she placed it on the table, palm down, and tapped her fingers against the hard wood. She drummed it a few times, stopped, drummed it again, and stopped. This went on and on until she stopped suddenly, putting her hand flat on the table again.

“Oh.” Albert stepped up, taking another spoonful of cereal and munching it thoughtfully with his mouth closed. “Oh. Well. Sure.”

Sure? Simon signed. She didn’t say anything.

“I saw her do this the first time too,” said Albert, muffled a little by his cereal. He leaned down so he could rest his elbows on the table and put out his own hand, tapping his index firmly in a rhythmic staccato. Evelyn just watched him, not smiling, but her shoulders seemed to relax a little as Albert drummed the table. “This means something,” he offered over his shoulder.

What does it mean? Simon signed, but Albert wouldn’t look at him and he was doubly certain that Albert wouldn’t answer him even if he was reading Simon’s hands.

Evelyn waited for Albert to finish his little taps before she started up with hers again. Simon was almost certain this had to be Morse Code if it was anything, but he didn’t know Morse Code. Furthermore, he knew Albert didn’t know Morse Code, and had to be tapping nonsense at his supposed daughter. Certainly he could have picked up some new tricks during his journeys, but Simon doubted Albert had interest in old naval codes or the necessity of a language he didn’t need to use every day.

Simon pushed himself away from the table, leaving the two to tap away at each other. As soon as he left the chair, Albert was after him, scooping up his cereal bowl in one hand.

“Hey,” said Albert, following Simon back into the kitchen. “We were getting somewhere. Where’re you going?”

Simon didn’t deign to respond. He went straight for his room. The bed was still a mess and he went to tidy it, pulling sheets down at all corners, straightening out the blanket on top, and even going so far as to fluff his own pillow. He collected clothes for the day—slacks, white dress-shirt, gray tie, gray belt, black loafers, socks, underwear, undershirt. He laid them out neatly on the bed before he began to change into them, taking his time with each item, folding himself up in the comforts of clean lines, strict dress code, and comfortable under garments, which he understood to be a luxury of his sex. Poor Evelyn, when she grew up and had to learn how to withstand an underwire bra.

Once he was dressed, Simon exited his room to see Albert standing in the hall. Albert, jeans and shirt, in his black loafers, with his hair a frazzled mess atop his head. Albert, with his stupid face. Albert, who just had an empty bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, like some lost wandering child wondering where their next meal would come and please, sir, could they have some more. Simon huffed, and tensed his shoulders, expecting a physical altercation.

“Where are you going?” Albert asked in a lower voice, as though he was afraid Evelyn might hear them and go blabbing to the neighbors. “Are you going in? Right now? C’mon, man, please. Please, just work from home.”

Simon huffed again. He was instantly aware that he had not had a cigarette that morning, and the fact made his head start to throb a little at the temples. He rolled his eyes and went around Albert without having to push him or force his way through. Lucky him. Albert had weight and height to his advantage and could lay Simon out flat if he really needed to.

“Simon,” Albert said more insistently, following his brother down the hall to the bathroom. Simon went inside and closed the door, but Albert was right there, insisting to speak through the closed door anyways. “Simon. C’mon. I just got home, like, could you do this for me? Please? I don’t ask a lot.”

Simon actually snorted when he put a bead of toothpaste on his toothbrush. The nerve? Of that man? And, anyways, there wasn’t anything that he could really do, since he didn’t know how to speak or interpret Morse Code. Simon began to brush his teeth, hoping to drown out Albert behind him.

“It’s how I found her, okay? It’s so weird, but, if anybody can figure it out, Simon, man, it’s gotta be you, right? Right?”

That still wasn’t an answer. That was an excuse. And trying to butter him up. Simon brushed harder, digging the bristles into his soft pink gum line.

“I don’t know how she did it,” said Albert, quieter this time. Not like he was walking away, exactly, but just that it was more reserved, closer to the chest, something he wasn’t sure Albert was even capable of.

Simon finished brushing his teeth, spit the slush of toothpaste, saliva, water, and a touch of blood out into the basin, and rinsed his mouth. Combed his hair. Straightened his clothing. He checked his reflection, ignoring the circles budding under his eyes or the start of a very faint moustache and beard. Pathetic wisps of hair that could wait another day before he shaved, though going into the office looking like this did not give him any confidence. He shrugged off the desire to shave like he shrugged off his desire to smoke, in that he shoved it around to another part of his brain to fester until the urge overtook him. That was for Future Simon.

Once everything was done, Simon pushed open the door, moving past Albert to collect his items he needed to take the train in to work. The Citywide Business Class Train Ticket, good for 100 rides, the computer bag with his BrinTech computer and BrinTech security badge, his wallet, and his keys hanging from a rusty key-shaped hook by the front door. He started gathering all of these items when he passed by Evelyn again, still tapping away at the table. Simon watched her just as she watched him, both of them unblinking in their studies.

I’m sorry, he signed, circling his fist over his chest. Evelyn stopped tapping out her code on the table and turned to him, returning the gesture. And that is what made Simon pause.

Very carefully, Simon set down his computer bag next to the loveseat sofa—big enough for two—and placed his laminated Citywide Business Class Train Ticket card on the side table beside him. He kept his eyes locked on Evelyn, in case she decided to “say” more beyond her apparent Morse Code tapping.

Can you understand me? he asked, nodding towards her. She blinked, but did not offer him anything else. Was that a yes? One blink for yes, two for no? Was it nothing more than wetting her lenses? Was it something completely different?

Simon went back to the chair at the kitchen table, pulling out and sitting down as smoothly as he could manage. He tented his fingers in front of him on the placemat, rubbing his long thumb across his opposite hand’s knuckles as he watched the girl. He would give her time to think, to process. He could only imagine that, if she actually knew any sign language, where she was from might affect her own version of it. Would their vernacular and accents clash? Simon only bit his lip, nibbling on the corner as he waited.

“Oh, good, staring contest again,” said Albert as he came out of the hallway. “Well, keeps you here, I guess. Listen, can I please just have some of that ice cream you made in there? It smelled really really good.”

Simon snapped his fingers and pointed at Albert, glaring from under their dining corner light fixture—to call it a room was to give it too big of a purpose.

“Tell me I can’t have any,” said Albert, his hip in the refrigerator doorway. If he wasn’t constantly running from one century to the next, he would have surely grown to fill the size of the apartment. He leered over at Simon and Evelyn, reaching to unlatch the freezer door next to his head. “C’mon. Tell me I can’t.”

Simon pushed himself away from the table, shoving the chair back with the weight of his body as he slammed two hands down in front of him. He pointed, and his fist struck the table a second time. He didn’t even think that it might frighten the girl, who didn’t so much as flinch.

“I can’t hear you, Si,” Albert sang as a taunt, and curled his fingers under the latch. “C’mon.”

Don’t make me do this, Simon signed frantically, marching towards the kitchen. Albert mimed the sign back at him, not actually saying anything as he stuck out his tongue. You’re terrible.

“Just say it, Si,” said Albert and he undid the latch to the freezer. It made a soft click, an almost inaudible whisper of cold air slipping free and a tiny crackle as some of the ice inside popped and groaned from being introduced to a warmer temperature. It was a symphony of sounds, almost always ignored by those who would demand to speak above it, as Albert often did.

Don’t you dare, Simon signed, even though Albert was completely beyond reasoning. So, instead, he slammed his fist on the counter again, the closest he had to a primal yell.

However, just as Albert put his greasy hand on the ice cream maker, tugging it playfully from the dark cold confines of their freezer, a different song started to play. They perked at it instantly, turning towards the source as it dinged and screamed and called to them.

“Who the hell is calling now?” asked Albert, checking the wall clock even as he closed the freezer door tight behind him and went to their office to answer the phone.

Not that it was anywhere near his business, but Simon followed him towards the joint office, spelling out the name of the woman who had called yesterday. Albert wasn’t paying attention in the slightest, so Simon reached over for a pad of paper and a pen and scribbled it down before he flashed it in front of Albert’s face. Albert reached around him, going for the phone, when his eyes narrowed in on the name on the paper.

“Jessica…Pu—”

Albert picked up the phone and promptly put it back on its cradle. He didn’t say a word, just stood there stone stiff as his hand rested on the phone itself, as if to mute it’s incoming cries. The phone was dead for a second, two, and then it started ringing again.

“No,” he whispered, eyes darting around the room before they stuck to Simon’s face. “Did you talk to her?”

And, of course he had. Of course he had, if he had a damn name for her. Simon nodded only to have Albert curse to himself, a long, elaborate string of words coming in and out as he pushed the phone away from him, throwing open one of the desk drawers. There was a black case inside, mottled with black eggshell paint, and a small blue sack with white drawstrings.

What’s going on? Simon signed, twice because Albert wouldn’t barely pause to give him a passing glance, let alone read what he was trying to say. Simon huffed at his deliberate avoidance and wrote his questions down on the paper again.

“What?” Albert cried, taking the pad of paper and skimming over the words. “You wanna know?” Simon nodded. “I’ll tell you.” Simon waited. “But you gotta grab Cairn for me and put him in his carrier and we gotta go.” Simon…shook his head. “No arguments. No time. Just do this, and get Dad’s little poetry thing too. The map. That should help."

Simon started to ask more questions, moving his hands frantically, reaching out to Albert when he tried to duck away. Albert nodded at the hands, the fingers dancing, but he started to splutter and groan. “Well…I-I…yeah.” He tried to push Simon’s hands down, but they were the only way for Simon to get his questions out, and he had to. He thought he might explode if he didn’t. Who is that woman and what have you done? Where are we going? How are we supposed to get there? Why do you want the map if we can’t even read it? I don’t know where Cairn’s carrier is, why don’t you grab it? What happens if—? Etcetera etcetera, but Albert, who nodded and hummed, fluttered his own fingers daintily beneath his chin. His eyes widened, his eyebrows furrowed, looking absolutely lost. “I can’t…I can’t…” he said to every question asked. “I can’t. Do. This! Right now!” Albert waved his hands dramatically in front of his face and shoved at Simon, hitting him in the chest and pushing him back enough that he staggered into his desk. The chair spun lazily, squeaking just a little from a pivot that needed a good greasing. “Not right now, Si, okay? Okay? For your sake and mine?”

But Simon was breathing heavily, a hand on his breast as though he’d been stabbed. The other hand rested on the desk, supporting his weight as he stared, scandalized at his brother, his own flesh and blood.

“Christ, calm down,” said Albert and left the office just as the phone started to ring again. “Don’t answer that!” And then, further away. “And get Cairn!”

I’ll get Cairn, said Simon, sneering at the empty doorway to the office. Oh, I’ll get Cairn indeed. He reached over to Albert’s untidy desk and picked up the phone. There was the woman’s voice again, starting her greeting, before he put the receiver back down on the cradle and hung up. Somehow, it did not feel as good as he was hoping.

“Don’t hold him like that.”

Albert reached over and took the cat carrier with Cairn mewling inside unhappily. The sounds were almost drowned out as one of the train trolleys trundled by, leaving them lost in a wind tunnel and screeching metal.

“And don’t let her go.”

Albert snatched up Evelyn’s hand as she began to pull away, half her face obscured in an oversized winter jacket, her hair covered by a wooly hat. Albert himself was bundled up in his striped scarf, pea-green colored overcoat, and matching hat. Simon only sighed, letting the black flap of his coat smack him once in the cheek before he tucked it back under his chin.

“You can’t run off, sweetheart, okay? We have to wait for the train.”

Evelyn glanced up at Albert, her big wet eyes shining just a touch brighter now that they were surrounded by the dark winter colors. She looked washed out in the low gray gloom of the city, soot already covering the bottom half of her strange pants and the gridlines of the girders of an unfinished building leaving latticework shadows across her face. Across all their faces, surely. Simon looked between her and the building and the noisy city circling around them. He took her hand, both of theirs snugly warm in gray mittens. At least he could do that right.

“Sonuvabitch but it’s cold,” said Albert, sniffing and snorting behind his scarf. Apparently cursing wasn’t a bad habit to be taught. “They say it’s gonna snow tonight or what?”

Simon gave him a sidelong glance before he turned his attention back to the tracks. Another train would be coming by in ten minutes or so, but they wanted the 11:15 out of Chatterley. Simon yanked his hand free of his pocket and mashed up his sleeve to check the time on his watch. They had almost half an hour to wait out on the lonely platform and the sky above them was doing its best to get darker and darker. Maybe it would open up and drown them in snow before the train arrived.

Someone took to the platform, standing about three yards off, wrapped up in their own protective bundle of warm clothes, coffee steam, and general societal standards of personal space. He did not so much as glance at Albert, Simon, and Evelyn, but Simon watched him anyways. He wasn’t even sure why he did. Perhaps it was the red thread going through that black cashmere coat, an odd touch of flare that drew the viewer’s eye in naturally. Maybe it was his unkind eyes and rounded shoulders. Maybe it was because Simon didn’t want to have to look at his brother or the bleak empty tracks, and that was the only other focal point he was drawn to. But he looked. He looked anyway.

“Well?” said Albert. He was still holding the cat carrier in both hands and he nudged Simon with his knee. “Check the forecast.”

Simon rolled his eyes back to his brother. Now with a hand free, he managed to get into one of his pockets and fetch his phone, but the mitten was preventing him from unlocking the screen. He swiped a few times, turning his mouth down in a scowl before he had to put the phone back, bite the fingers of his mitten, let it dangle from his mouth like he was a dog playing fetch, grab the phone, and open the damnable weather app. He sneezed with annoyance and turned the screen for Albert to see. Albert eyed the phone around his nose, nodding at the numbers.

“Can’t see with your thumb in the way, Si,” he said, and twitched his head as though he would telepathically shift Simon’s thumb. “I wanna know if it’ll snow, not the temp right now. What’s it say?”

So, Simon had to take the phone back, scroll, and show it off again. His stomach was starting to boil and his head ached in a tight little pinprick of pain between his eyebrows. Albert inspected the app again and nodded.

“Yeah, still can’t see if it’s gonna snow. Oh well, Si,” he said, and clicked his tongue. “Maybe they just don’t know everything.”

Simon brought the phone back up to his face and read the forecast as easily as reading anything else. He tapped the screen, but now Albert was just feigning disinterest, looking instead into the cat carrier and cooing away at Cairn in hopes of keeping him less agitated. Well, Simon was agitated. Who was going to coo at him then, huh? He rolled his eyes back along the tracks and unfinished building and the girders and the short translucent cover ahead to shelter them and the empty platform beside them.

Empty platform beside them.

Empty?

Simon blinked on the spot where the man with his black coat and red thread had been standing not a moment ago. He straightened and when he did, involuntarily tightened his grip on Evelyn’s fingers. The man was just…gone. Simon scanned the platform, the wall behind them, the staircase that led up to it. They were all alone up there, the trio and their cat. No sign that a man in a black coat with red thread had even been there in the first place. There was no snow sticking to the ground to see any tracks. Simon’s pinprick of pain began to bubble more and he whipped his head from left to right, searching him out to prove he hadn’t either imagined it or witnessed an apparition.

There was a tug on his hand and Simon was brought back as he looked down at the little manacle holding him. Evelyn was looking up. She tugged again, like she was pulling on a rope to make an old fancy doorbell ring. Her face was blank, but there was something urgent in her movement and Simon leaned down to her. He had a brief thought that she might try to bite a chunk of his nose or reach up to gouge out one of his eyes, but he got closer to her face all the same. He raised an eyebrow, a silent, “Yes?” asked. She put her hand up to her mouth ever so carefully and whispered to him.

#The Sometimes Thief #original fiction #novel #chapter 2 #300@200

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myenchantingkpop · 8 years ago

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Build A Boyfriend - Sehun Pt.2

Months had past and you’ve never felt better. School was now on break, your boss had given you a raise, and you had an extremely attractive and sweet boyfriend that you had show up on your doorstep all those months ago. Life was going well for you.

The bus came to a stop in front of your street as your knees were bouncing in excitement. You hurriedly got off the bus and practically skipped down the street toward your home that you now shared with attractive man-child.

You reached into your bag ready to grab your keys to unlock the door when it suddenly swung open. You jumped from the sudden appearance of Sehun, but smiled nonetheless. He already had his arms open wide with an expectant smile that made his eyes form crescents. You jumped into his arms allowing him to carry you into the house and shut the door with his foot without dropping you or even tilting to the side-that’s what you called talent.

You sighed in content as Sehun grinned back tucking a piece of hair behind your ears. He stood in the shoe area just holding your figure as close as possible. His nose buried itself in your hair taking in the sweet scent of vanilla and strawberry. His nose contoured down your cheek to your neck and finally stopped at your collarbone placing a delicate kiss on the skin there.

“Welcome home Jagi.” His deep voice greeted you as he kissed the skin again as a ‘hello.’

You hummed as your finger tips played with the hair at the nape of his neck. You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Hello to you too.”

Sehun smiled before pecking your lips and walking you two into the kitchen before setting you on the counter.

“Are you hungry? I can make you something. What would you like?” He asked peeking his head into the fridge.

You sat on the counter watching him as he bent his knees to see what was in the lower shelves of your fridge. A giggle escaped your lips and he looked back at you with a raised eyebrow with the what’s-so-funny face. Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to hold in more giggles from tumbling out.

Sehun’s eyebrow raised a bit higher and a smirk began to crawl its way onto his lips. “What’s so funny Jagi?” He asked.

“Nothing baby it’s just that *snicker* the fridge is a bit too small for you.” You laughed at his form hunched over to peek into the fridge.

He quickly shut the fridge and crossed the room parting your legs to stand between them and he had placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, effectively trapping you. In. One. Swift. Motion. Your eyes widened at the close proximity as his breath fanned across your face, noses barely touching. Rich brown eyes stared into your e/c ones.

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer nuzzling his nose into yours. You blushed under his intense hooded gaze. He slowly leaned closer before placing a kiss on your forehead, then making his way down your cheeks to your jaw before kissing down the smooth skin of your neck. Subconsciously you released a sigh as he nibbled on the skin of your neck.

“Oppa.” You whispered as his soft but enticing kisses froze for a split second before he was kissing back up your neck.

Your head was tilted to the side allowing him more room and your eyes were closed as your hands gripped his forearms. Another sigh escaped your parted lips as his teeth grazed by the spot between your shoulder and collarbone.

“O-oppa.” You gasped again as your fingers dug into his upper arm.

He slowly backed away enough to see your blushing face. Your eyes darted down to take an interest in the floor to avoid his intense dark eyes. His hand came up to gently but firmly turn your face back up making your eyes slip back up to be captured in his entrancing eyes. He continued to drink in your blushing face with his now darkened eyes and a lick of his lips.

“O-oppa?” You tried to break his trance with uncertainty in your voice. He blinked once before he was suddenly kissing your lips with ferocity and passion. His arm snaked around your waist pulling you closer as his other hand cupped your cheek holding you in place. He molded his plump lips against your and his tongue lightly traced your bottom lip followed by a slight nip. You obliged to his demand letting him make the kiss deeper.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled back to catch your breath. As soon as contact was severed he was immediately capturing you back into a bruising kiss. He was relentless as he quickly stole your breath again. He finally broke the kiss panting slightly and staring at you with abnormally dark eyes. His eyes dropped to your blush and finally onto your slightly swollen pink lips. He groaned and slammed his lips back onto yours as he wrapped both arms around your waist pulling you off the counter making you gasp. He swallowed your gasp as he wrapped your legs around his waist securely. He walked out of the kitchen and popped down of the couch with you straddling him.

You pulled back catching your breath as Sehun’s lips ghosted across your cheek to his next target-your neck. He was relentless as he nibbled and kissed the skin, moans falling past his lips each time he discovered a new patch of skin. Your head dropped onto his shoulder, eyes closed, heart racing at what seemed like a hundred miles a minute. You weren’t sure what brought this on. He hadn’t acted this way before.

“Jagi” his husky tone made you tense up. Now you definitely knew something was up. He never had that tone in his voice. He gently tilted your heard into his other shoulder and the diving into that side relentlessly. You gasped with each new patch created. You tried to pull away but he held you still with a slight grown rumbling in his chest. Your eyes widened. Something was definitely up with him. Each time you tried to pull away he held you closer and his grip tightened leaving you in an iron like grip.

He wasn’t letting up and you couldn’t move so you just let it happen. Your eyes closed for seemed like ages before the warmth from his kisses left the skin of your neck to softly kiss your rosy cheeks. The soft caress was a major opposition from the rough nips he was delivering just seconds ago. He placed a gentle kiss on your bruised lips before pulling back to really look at you. His once dark eyes were back to a soft brown and his grip loosened on your form. He stared at you and then his eyes went wide.

“Um Jagi?” He said and you tilted your head with a hum. He said nothing but over your hair and gently caressed his thumb across your neck making you gasp slightly as the skin was tender. You quickly stood up and ran to mirror gasping at the sight.

The skin of your neck was various shades of red to purple. Every inch seemed to be covered making it look like some sort of rash. You tilted your head gasping at the other side that seemed to have even more purple color than red. Your hand slowly reached up to touch the skin and you let out an audible gasp at how tender the skin was. You gawked at your reflection. The once smooth skin was now a rainbow of reds and purples from the hairline down to your shoulders.

“Holy shit.” You whispered still staring at your neck. You jumped as arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Sehun kissed your shoulder and then met your disbelieving eyes in the mirror.

“Jagi I think we need to call the company. You look like you had a really bad allergic reaction.” He stated inspecting the marks carefully.

“Did you come with an instruction manual?” You asked turning around to look at his guilty eyes.

“Not that I remember. Jagi I’m really sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I couldn’t stop your skin was so so soft.” he caressed the darkest mark making you jump slightly. You could see the guilty look in his eyes and he practically gasped as you winced slightly as he applied minimal pressure to it. He suddenly had you wrapped into a tight hug swaying you both back and forth.

“I think something went wrong. We need to call the company.” He muttered running his hand through your hair. “We’ll call in the morning. It’s late we should go to bed.” You whispered burying your face in his chest. Sehun pulled away to stare at you again.

“Does..does it hurt? Was I hurting you? Did I make you uncomfortable?” You giggled at his worry.

“Sehun…..Sehun….Sehun!” You laughed catching his attention by cupping his cheeks. You grinned up at him and stood on your tippy toes to place a gentle and loving kiss on his red and slightly swollen ones. He relaxed slightly holding you close. You broke the kiss to peck his nose softly. “It’s fine okay? I’m okay. It didn’t hurt but damn were you possessive!” you teased.

Sehun chuckled and caressed your cheek. “So…it wasn’t bad huh?” He smirked with mischief as you shook your head no. “So what if I were to do it again? Maybe we shouldn’t call the company. Besides you seemed to be enjoying as you willingly tilted your head for me and those gasps falling from your pretty lips told me you loved every second of it.” He smirked getting close to your face again making you lean back.

“Yah! Sehun! You can’t do anything!” You squeaked pushing him back. He chuckled and pulled you into his arms again kissing the crown of your head.

“I’m just joking love. I won’t do anything to you….for now.” He smirked wider and then grinned lovingly tugging you to the sofa and plopping down on his lap.

Your eyes widened at the position and you tried to move to the other side of the sofa. Key word tried. As quick as lightening his arms secured around your waist in a cobra grip before he rested his cheek on the crown of your head.

“Yah stop moving. I won’t do anything more okay? Let’s just cuddle and figure this out in the morning.” He said before kissing your cheeks then your lips before turning the TV on to watch a drama. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.” He whispered before you slowly drifted off to sleep with a sigh of content. Your boy was truly one of a kind.

(If you guys have ideas for Kai bab part 2 don’t be afraid to let me know!)

Hey lovelies here’s part 2 of Sehun build a boyfriend! Hope you all enjoyed it! ~Allie

#exo #exo scenarios #exo imagine #exo sehun #exo smut

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