“shopping for your brother?”
you trip at hearing the question, your lips parting in surprise as you whip to look at the clerk. she blinks at you amidst her own shock before turning her eyes down to your hands where a faux fatigued boonie dangled between your pinched fingers.
you watch as she glances back at you before shooting a look towards simon, having seen the two of you walk in together. he’s standing on the far side of the shop, attracting electric looks from everyone – you couldn’t even blame them because even your mouth is watering at the sight that he makes.
still, the insinuation that you couldn’t possibly be simon’s partner stung. forgotten insecurities are rising once again, rippling against the quiet elation that once filled you up.
“um,” you begin, clearing your throat at hearing your voice brokenly taper off. “it’s for, uh, my boyfriend.”
the clerk stares at you for a second before her cheeks fill up with red, the blush descending from her forehead to her neck.
“bloody hell,” she utters. “i’m so sorry.” she scurries away after that, disappearing into their storage room where you think she’s going to stay until you and simon leave.
and you’re willing to do just that. you drop the boonie and walk towards simon, trying to ignore the bitterness that is stinging in the back of your throat. simon uncrosses his arms – tattoos and muscles obscured by the expanse of paper bags that he insisted he pay and carry for you – and holds his hand out for you to take. you look at it, hesitating, before you shake your head and walk out on your own.
you can’t hear him follow you but you know he is there, quiet in his assessment of both the surroundings and of what happened to make you upset. you blink the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, trying to hide your distress as much as you can.
but it is futile because the next thing you know, simon’s pulling you away from the busy stretch of the mall and into an obscured exit point with dim lights and narrow halls. he drops the bags onto the floor before tugging on your wrists with firm gentleness.
“what happened?” his voice is gruff but worry is evident in his tone.
“it’s nothing,” you say, sniffing. “just tired.”
he hums, and you know that he doesn’t believe you. you sigh, turning away from him as you mutter, “i dunno why you like me.” you chew on your words, hoping he wouldn’t understand. but you feel him stiffen before you, his back tensing like he is preparing for a fight.
you know he is angry – not at you. never at you. and seeing his protective nature spark up just at the mere mention of your insecurity makes your lips wobble, your eyes blurring as tears pool once again.
you hear him let out a sharp curse before he’s pulling you in his embrace, tucking your head under his chin and engulfing you in his arms. he’s so big and all muscles, but he’s so, so warm. you nuzzle your cheek on his chest, letting out a content sigh when you feel his lips press on the top of your head.
“you know that i love you, don’t you, sweetheart?” simon asks, thinly-veiled desperation curling at his words.
you nod, shy all of sudden. he clicks his tongue.
“use y’r words, love.”
you peer up at him, your pouty lips quivering into a small smile at meeting his intense gaze, his beautiful eyes tracking the details of your face like he can’t get enough of you.
you see simon’s reverence and feel your heart melt.
“yeah,” you finally reply, swiping your tongue on your chapped lips and feeling your cheeks warm up at the way his eyes zeroed in on the action. “i know it well, si.”
he grunts before he is bending forward to press his lips over yours, your eyes fluttering close to savour the kiss. he is gentle as he guides you through it, prompting you to part your lips just enough for him to deepen the kiss – tongues swiping against each other and soft moans being engulfed by both of you.
you are panting by the time he pulls away, his eyes dilated in pleasure. you wonder if you look just as debauched, just as desperate for more.
“wanna take this somewhere else?” simon murmurs, just the sound of his grave voice already making you tremble.
you scramble to say yes, your words lilting together in your excitement. simon chuckles and presses a quick kiss on your lips before he’s picking up the shopping bags and herding the two of you out.
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the canon of dunmeshi makes it easy to imagine farcille with marcille as the perpetually pining party ready and willing to violate the most fundamental laws of nature for the woman she is utterly, irrevocably in love with. but.
the idea of marcille doing everything she does under the impression that falin is just her dearest most special friend that she loves with the normal platonic intensity of all girl besties while newly re-resurrected falin is shaking laios in their shared bedroom at the earliest opportunity trying to spark their two brain cells together to figure out if marcille, who she has been desperately crushing on since magic school, is actually in lesbians with her and just denser than a neutron star is infinitely funnier so that's the version of reality i subscribe to
(to sweeten the pot this makes marcille being obsessed with romantic drama and effortlessly spinning a character study of chilchuck's wife based solely on two sentences, her knowledge of him as a co-worker, and the power of her own delusions so much funnier too. too busy working that maxed out delusion stat on her unfortunate partymates to look inward for two seconds)
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