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fillinforlater · 2 years ago

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Blonde: Chapter II

Female Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 2938 words

Tags: terrible day, everything goes wrong, helpful friends, saving and helping, light hearted fun, slow burn, character building, mystery toxic relationship, curse filled fight, hatred, terrible mother

TW: toxic relationship

Credit: @midnightdancingsol for editing. The real MVP behind the scenes, thank you!

(A/N: @firagaarmor bcuz of course and @ifeelsounsure0 bcuz he got me to write something fluffy. Love you two and I hope y’all enjoy this second part)

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m, I’m sorry, sir.”

It’s not going well for you today. In fact, it’s been quite terrible.

Your alarm didn’t go off as your phone didn’t charge overnight. For some reason the energy supplier cut off your electricity. Again. Is it because there was an issue with the powerline? Definitely possible, it wouldn’t be the first. It could also be because they haven't been paid last month.

A cold shower, dry noodles, and being late to school make you contemplate calling your mother and asking, no, begging for money. It's the worst form of humiliation and only has a fifty percent chance of succeeding. There is no painless way out of this, and this was only the beginning of the day.

After this disaster, you arrived at school. You are already in trouble for your bad grades and so it's a terrible look when you arrive five minutes before the lesson ends. It gets even worse when your explanation is a stuttering mess. Your teacher screamed at you for minutes straight. One more misstep and he'll let you fail.

And lastly, work. From the very first customer on, you made mistake after mistake: two items weren't scanned, three complaints with unsatisfying answers, and now, you drop a glass of jam. Luckily, the customer caught it. In his understandable anger he throws a tantrum, urging you to scan faster and faster.

"My God, is it really this hard to watch out? Every elementary school student can do this!

"S-sir, I'm sorry."

"This should not happen, I w—"

"Please, leave her alone, sir. She apologized enough already."

A soothing voice suddenly speaks up for you. Gaeul has a stern, confident glow on her features and can stand up for herself, for you, even if she's signifiantly smaller. The man backs off.

"I mean, she should just be more careful."

"I'm sure she will be."

"Okay, okay."

He scans his credit card and leaves with the usual clatter of the shopping cart.

It's just you and her now. Gaeul's blonde hair seems to glow silver-gray today, but it could just be the dirty white light above the store's shelves. She is once again carrying colorful cans, more than last time. Half a dozen.

"You, you two are more thirsty this time, huh?" you stutter your failed attempt at a joke.

"Hey, are you okay? You're crying."

"What, I'm not—"

Not yet. The tears in your eyes are like an avalanche about to break loose any second now. Gaeul can clearly see it as she softly inspects your face. No, don't cry now, you tell yourself and reach for the soda.

Pepsi. Beep.

"Yes you are and that's okay."

Coke. Beep.

"N-no, I'm not cryin'."

Mountain Dew. Beep.

"Hey."

It's too late. The can of green tea over the scanner is not only met with a beep, but also drops of rain. Your tears come down, nothing is able to stop them. Today is just too much.

Beep. Beep.

"Hm, how do I do this?"

Gaeul's breath brings you back from this freezing in place. She’s right next to you, on the side of the scanner only employees are allowed to access. Cautiously, she tries to read the words on the panel and keys, but you are in the way. Her body heat and calm breath are so close, you gasp and back off and feel something hit your elbow. A decorative vase at the back of your carrel falls over. The sound of china bursting on the stone floor makes Gaeul jump.

Gaeul scrambles awkwardly to quickly leave the carrel and walks to the pile of dirt and shards, while you try to balance yourself and look around. If your manager heard this, he will be here in less than a minute—

“What was that? Checkout three—”

“I’m sorry,” Gaeul interrupts the annoyed manager, “I must have accidentally touched it. It wasn’t on purpose and I—”

“N-no!” you interrupt Gaeul with a shocked stutter, “I, it was my fault. My e-elbow hit it when I turn—”

“She is just taking the blame for me,” Gaeul interrupts.

“Wh-what?” your manager says. He looks between the two of you.

Instinctively, you shut up and stare at the ground. Confusion keeps you from crying and instead raises questions. What is happening? Why is Gaeul doing this? What if I have to pay—no, what if Gaeul has to pay for the vase? Would she do it for me?

“Trust me, sir, she is taking the blame out of kindness,” Gaeul argues calmly. She then bows her head. “It’s my fault. I will pay for the damages.”

“Ah, no. It’s fine,” the bewildered manager responds, scratching the back of his head, “Thank you for your honesty. It was an ugly vase anyways. Just… be more careful next time.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry sir.”

You stare at Gaeul bowing again. Her upper body is covered by a simple, white t-shirt with a black cat on its front, something you haven’t noticed in your self-centered sadness. As the manager walks away, you’re still staring at her. Your heart beats faster and a warm thought arises in your mind.

This is the first time someone made a sacrifice for me.

The final rays of sunlight beam over the roofs. This time of the year, it’s your usual sight when you leave the store after your shift. You step through the employee exit, a white plastic bag in hand, and trot towards the parking lot. At this time, no one is allowed to park on the property of the store and the manager made it your job to check every evening. You scan the concrete area and as usual, no one dares to park here. If so, you’d write down the license plate number and—

“G-Gaeul?”

“Oh, there you are. Hey.”

Gaeul sits atop a metal safety pillar next to the entrance, each of her six cans lined up in a row before her. She waves and points to the pillar next to her. The sunlight reflected from the glass front behind her makes her bright hair glow brighter and you fly towards her like a moth.

“What are you d-doing here?”

“I was waiting for you. I wanted to apologize.”

“A-apologize? Why?”

Gaeul points at the pillar once more. Never not laying your eyes off of her face, you sit down on the metal surface. Through your thin skin-tight jeans you still feel its coldness. You want to jump back up and rather stand, but Gaeul reaches for your hands and you freeze on the spot. It’s not cold anymore.

“Because I had a stupid idea and made you feel uncomfortable in front of your boss? I think this warrants an apology.”

“B-but you actually helped me. I should th-thank you.”

Before you can fall back into your old habit of lowering your gaze, Gaeul brings you back with an assertive rebuttal.

“No, I made you trip and then the accident happened. It’s my fault and I am sorry. I should’ve used my brain back then.”

Gaeul chuckles. For the first time, you hear her voice as small and cute. You join her and a rare wave of warmth and appreciation overcomes all negative emotions. The rest of the day with all its burdens becomes irrelevant for at least this moment.

“Apology accepted. By the way, wh-what was your ‘stupid idea’?”

"Hm? What do you me—ah, yes! Well, uhm, I guess I wanted to help you by scanning the cans and finishing the transaction on my own. The scanning part was easy, but I had no clue how to, uhm, open the register. Hehe…”

Gaeul averts her gaze onto the cracked pavement. A faint blush turns her pastel pink cheeks rosy pink while her hand scratches the back of her head.

After a second of silence, you begin to snicker. Your mind cannot fathom why she looks so irresistibly cute when she is embarrassed, but also why she would attempt something this unnecessary. It’s nice that she wanted to help, but it was meant to fail from the start.

“I-I’m sorry, but I find this funny,” you say as your snicker continues.

“Is that why you’re laughing at me?” Gaeul asks, acting offended.

“No, no, I’m laughing because it was cute, but pointless.”

“Th-that’s why I apologized!”

Gaeul’s face jumps from the beautiful rosy pastel to the red of a ripe tomato. She buries it in her hand, making only her blonde bob—the light in the store betrayed you: it’s still as blonde as before—visible. Her body moves to the side away from you.

You stop your giggles and aim your hand at her shoulder. What was supposed to be an apologetic gesture to get back the beautiful girl's attention and explain yourself to her, turns to a shove. With too much momentum from standing up, you unwittingly push Gaeul, making her stagger and almost fall from the pillar. Luckily, she is able to put her leg down firmly and rescue the two of you from falling over.

She removes her hands to reveal her shocked orbs. They are so close to yours, a breath away. Somehow your hand is still on hers and once again, everything is silent for a second. Instead of giggling, you fall to your knees this time.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t want this to happen, really. I just wanted to—no, I’m sorry, I always do things wrong, there is always trouble and—”

“Hey. Hey! Everything is okay, nothing happened.”

“No, I’m such a klutz, an worthless idiot—”

“No, you’re not. A funny little mistake doesn’t make you worthless.”

Gaeul’s soothing voice and soft fingers on your hair guide you away from your self-loathing. The pain you so easily get lost in lingers only for seconds, but when you see her eyes, it's gone.

"You mean it?"

You did not have to ask that as her genuinity was obvious in her gaze, her expression, her gesture. She doesn’t lie, her words are not just rootless. Although she might only act out of human decency, it feels like burning compassion.

Gaeul stretches out her hand and you take it. You get up swiftly and stand next to the beautiful woman, staring at her probably a second too long. She giggles and turns her head away.

"Yeah, I mean it. Don't define yourself over such a tiny mistake. Actually, it was kinda cute."

Turn away as well. She should not see the seemingly instantaneous, almost cartoonish blush taking over your face. There is no doubt that she once again was genuine and you scramble to come up with a response, with a rebuttal, but there is nothing. Your mind is so full, yet so void of words.

A ring from Gaeul's phone puts an end to the rising tension.

"Hi," Gaeul greets after fishing out her phone. A second in and she freezes in place. Her lips lose a bit of their already light color, her knees buckle lightly.

You watch Gaeul from the corner of your eye. Throughout the call, she is reduced to repeating simple words or inconclusive phrases. A 'Yes' here, a 'Me' there, sometimes an 'I know', other than that she is just listening. Her free hand scratches her blonde hair or hides shortly in the pockets of her baby-blue jeans.

When your eyes meet, you quickly spin around. She is clearly uncomfortable and you don't want to make it worse by eavesdropping on her. In an attempt to look somewhat disinterested, you look into the plastic bag you brought along. Soda, two days past the expiration date, along with instant noodles, rice, and a mixture of vegetables that still looked edible. It'd be a waste to throw them away.

"I'm sorry, b—"

You raise your head and Gaeul lowers her hand. Little beads of sweat trickle down her distressed features. In a hurry she collects all the colorful cans splayed on the pavement and tries the impossible task of carrying them in her bare hands. They of course tumble down and you watch as Gaeul’s body trembles.

“Ah, damn,” Gaeul says in a dull voice, adding a clearly faked laugh, “I have to go now. I missed something important.”

“Wait!” you shout as she tries to jog away with the unstable tower in her arms, “take this. O-otherwise, you won’t make it home without an accident.”

Stretch your arm towards her. A light breeze makes the now empty white plastic bag in your hand sway in the wind. It’s like a flag and your arm is the pole. Gaeul hesitates.

“Are you sure? Don’t you need it too?”

“It’s not that much. Look, a couple of packets—I can easily carry those.”

“I don’t know…”

You try to make your eyes look more pleading to finally convince Gaeul to just take the bag. You definitely want to help her and although you understand and cherish her care for you, hearing the shift in her voice to sadness leaves you determined—you will not leave until she accepts your offer, even if it takes a lie.

“Gaeul, please. If I should struggle to carry this home, I can just grab another bag from inside the store. You need it a lot more right now.”

With a residue of hesitance Gaeul reaches for and fills the plastic bag with her cans. Although she whispers a grateful ‘Thank you’, her expression is trying to hide something dampening her mood. You can’t help but think that there is something seriously wrong. Some dread seems to linger above Gaeul like rain-filled clouds.

You wave after her, but she doesn’t turn around. Her walk is swift, her blonde hair bops at each step and you admire how incredible she looks in this casual outfit. Form-fitting jeans, short white T-shirt—Gaeul can wear literally anything and still look stunning.

Who would want to cause any discomfort to someone this wonderful?

Scroll through your contacts. It’s certainly not a long list and you wish most of the names displayed on the screen were just non-existent, but you can still waste time by going down and back up.

Avoid at all costs, waste as much time as possible, maybe she will call on her own.

Naive thoughts to keep you occupied, but if you want your stove top to work or lamps to shine you need to call her.

Even this late, she is still surely awake. Even after years of fighting, she will surely pick up. Even if you are formal and nice, she might make this go sideways quickly. Having to call her was always your least favorite chore since living alone, and when her receiver is lifted and the line is clear, you freeze on the spot, like you have every single time.

“What?” she groans into your ear, not hiding her annoyance. There is an obnoxiously loud TV running in the background, some soap opera characters are fighting. You always hated these shows. They were one of the most irritating parts about here, but not as irritating as the barking of a dog. Last time you called, she didn’t own one. Maybe she is at a friend’s house, maybe she is getting her life together and wants to care for a dog, but God forbid she has a boyfriend now.

There is no escaping it, you already pressed the green button. Suppress the urge to immediately tap on the red one and end the call. You have to engage in this. It's no use running away.

"I need… there is no electricity," you say firmly, even through the little slip-up, trying not to sound too cold or desperate.

"Yeah, I know," she responds nonchalantly, interrupting her response to suck at her cigarette. Even after all this time, you can still smell the disgusting odor of the smoke she always exhales in a celebratory fashion.

"What?!"

"I couldn't afford it."

"Huh? And what am I supposed to do now?" you say resentfully, unable to keep yourself from shouting. Her attitude broke you faster than even your worst fears would have assumed. The barking gets louder and your mother half-heartedly speaks over it.

"Chill out! After my boss pays me, I'll be able to pay for your bill. That motherfucker is late again."

"And till then?"

"What do I know. Can't change it."

Your hand wrapped around your cell phone trembles. You grit your teeth and keep your rage-filled tears back.

"You want me to starve? I can't cook anything. Noodles, rice—"

"Then eat something else."

"And how should I shower?"

Your voice cracks, almost crumbles as you press the speaker onto your sweaty cheek.

"You'll survive without one."

"Can you fucking care for once?! I'm in trouble, again, and you don't give a shit, again!"

"I don't have to listen to you. You wanted to live alone."

"Because I can't stand smelling you and your fucking cigarettes all day."

"Shut the fuck up."

Her voice is cold, colder than ice, colder than a murderer’s heart, colder than the vaccum of space. It’s the coldest thing in the entire universe. If hatred was transferable through phone lines, she would wince and squirm on the ground right now. Instead, it’s you who is about to fall on your knees. The weight is getting too heavy.

The beeping of your phone after she hangs up just echoes through your empty mind.

One thought however resonates infinitely in this void.

I fucking hate you.

(A/N2: thanks for reading! Btw, why is she so damn beautiful??😳🥺)

#kpop fluff #gaeul fluff #ive fluff #female idol fluff #female reader fluff #female reader insert #Female reader #female idol

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years ago

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Belamour (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Set after Book 3, Pooja finally gets Ethan to dance in the rain.

A/N: A silly something born out of my love for rains and my binge listening to 80s Bollywood classics (I have no idea what kinda mess this is tbh). Also, my first song based fic🤎

A/N 2: The song lyrics are indented (Translation in parenthesis)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Rating: General

Word Count: around 1.5K

Category: Total fluff

Warnings: None that I noticed

Song Inspiration: Aaj Kal Yaad Kuch by Mohammed Aziz

READ ON AO3

A pair of summery blue orbs insistently stare at the world beyond the glass windows.

A world that was now being washed by the consistent droplets that came down from the adobe of clouds to meet their origin.

Their drum was usually henotic, tranquil for him.

But at the moment, it only added to his irritation and deepened the void of disappointment that had formed in his chest.

In another room of the same house, a pair of amber orbs watched the magic of nature with a child-like wonder.

The pleasant, dewy petrichor spread around her, and the mellifluous tunes of Earth's own orchestra made her forget the fast turns her life went through in the past day.

In the faint light, she picked up her hand and let the jewel, the stone that was nothing less than a promise of forever, shine like the billion stars that dot the sky at nights that are devoid of clouds.

As the iridescent lights make her eyes sparkle, a vague idea forms in her brain.

Her thoughts float to reach the person who gifted her happiness, and a smile lit up on her face.

There was a mix of challenge and love in the quest she was about to partake and she was determined to succeed.

In slow, soundless steps, she made her way out of the room and out of the house.

A blur went past and his trained eyes were quick enough to catch the motion.

Shaking his head with realization, he followed behind.

As the steps took him down, and he stood under the shade of the multi-floored skyrise, she stayed yards away from it.

Her hair was wet, her skirt twirling, her face bright and beautiful.

He felt his heart race, whispering an urge to join with hers.

He restrained himself, but the scene in front of him was so spectacular that he doubted just how long his restraint would last.

After what felt like an eternity, she turned to him, half of her face golden under the street lights, the other half bearing the monotones of black and white.

She looked like the personification of their love.

Her life the golden, and his the black and white.

He could write sonnets to describe the picture-perfect scene that played before him like a film, but all he did was stand still, unable to tear his eyes away, unable to speak the words that hadn't already been spoken, his well-thumbed thesaurus gathering dust in the labyrinths of his mind.

She looked at him with a longing, a spoken call for him to join her as the rains continued to fall and purify the earth.

All he did was shake his head in silence.

She took it as a challenge, and he already knew how it was going to end.

For a minute he got lost in her memories, reminiscences from a time, from a moment that passed too quick, yet slow enough for him to remember every moment of it.

And suddenly, the faint tunes of a song brought him back to the present.

Every word of the foreign seeming language lucid clear, setting in a cascade of emotions and bringing pictures etched in past pages of the novel of life, making him go on a trip down the memory lane.

Aajkal Yad Kuch Aur Rehta Nahi

(Nowadays I don't seem to remember anything else)

Ek Bas Aapki Yad Aane Ke Bad

(Once your memories enchant me)

Yaad Aane Se Pehle Chale Aaiye

(Please come to me before the memories reach me)

Aur Phir Jaiye Jan Jane Ke Bad

(And then leave only after my breath leaves me)

The truth of the words came with an epiphany.

Every day of knowing her had been a way of painting the monotones of his life in colours he thought didn't belong to him.

Every moment she had ever spent away from him had made him yearn for her more than ever.

And yet he was foolish enough to think that miles of distance and hundreds of hours could make him forget her.

All the distress he felt could have been so easily ended if she had been with him then.

And now, as he dreams of an aeon with her, he promises to only let her go when his breath leaves him alone.

Apni Aankhon Me Mujhko Basa Lijiye

(Allow me to settle in the world of your eyes)

Apne Dil Me Mera Ghar Bana Dijiye

(Make a home for me in your heart)

Kya Karu Dil Kahi Aur Lagta Nahi

Pyar Me Aapse Dil Lagane Ke Bad

(What's the fault of mine if I can't concentrate on anything other than you, since our hearts connected by the string of love)

As the minutes pass by, melting into each other to form an hour, he loses all tracks of time.

And amidst the sweven he was living in right now, at a moment he could not pinpoint, she had taken his hand into hers and now he stood, lost in the amber of her eyes, forgetting all about the shower that now fell upon him.

As she continued to mutter the tunes in a harmony that went on in rhythm with the rain, he wished he could live in the world of her orbs.

To see the world as she saw it, to live the life from her perspective.

All he wanted was home in her heart, a tiny place on the lands of her soul.

Ishq Ke Maine Kitne Fasane Sune

(I have heard many tales of epic romances)

Husb Ke Kitne Kisse Purane Sune

(And stories about beautiful people from bygone eras)

Aisa Lagta Hai Phir Is Tarah Tut Kar

Pyar Hamne Kiya Ek Zamane Ke Bad

(But I feel I have been broken and got mended by love after centuries)

In muted harmonies, the two of them twirled, forgetting the world around them.

The way their eyes held onto each other, as if holding onto their lives, reminded him of the tales of love the folklores talk about.

The romances of princesses and maidens, and of beauties who earned their fairytale.

But as her palm stroked his cheek in a feather-light motion, he concluded that all those tales faint in front of the story of theirs.

There were no royals, no cruel witches setting up spells and no poisoned apples.

There were just two people, broken by the storms life made them navigate through, fitting perfectly as if parts of a whole.

He tried to remember if he had ever experienced anything as he did now, his lip tracing her ear as his hands wrapped around her waist.

It didn't even take him a second to know the answer.

He hadn't.

Aapka Naam Dil Se Nikalta Nahi

(Your name never leaves my heart)

Dillagi Me Koi Zor Chalta Nahi

(No force is strong enough to stop the meet of two hearts)

Aapko Bhul Jane Ki Koshish Bhi Ki

(I tried a hundred times to forget you)

Aur Tadpa Hun Main Bhool Jaane Ke Baad

(And suffered a suffering of pain and agony once I forgot you)

The rains accelerate and become a downpour. The mist envelops them but there was no care for the changing environment.

The distance between them ceases to exist as their hearts finally get the pleasure of beating in unison.

In the next moments, she whispers close to his ear, the last of the melody, and it's his story.

The story of how he couldn't get rid of the five-lettered name since the first time he ever came to know about it.

Of how no force in the world could stop two hearts from meeting if that's what destiny had in plan for them.

Who one loves and who loves them back determines so much in one life.

And for him, it was a chance, a risk he was scared to take, dreading the destruction it may cause.

After all when had anything ever-blossoming flowers in the city of his soul?

But this time not only did spring finally arrived with its flowery footsteps but also led to a discovery of himself, a part of him that was buried under layers of snow from the winter that reigned in his life for years.

She taps twice on his heart, indicating how he had tried to forget her, all those years ago. And how he broke himself in the process.

As she hummed the last lines, he bowed down in front of the forces that brought the two of them together.

He thanked the stars which aligned the way did to let him fall for her and agreed to hide, to let the rains fall, to let him have this night with her.

And looked in awe at the woman who brought about the sweetest catastrophe mankind has ever known.

And without uttering a word, he picks her and kisses her, saying all that was left unsaid with it.

PS: I actually have another version of the song, that I sung specifically to go with this, but Tumblr is giving me troubles to upload it. Do let me know if you would like to hear it someday.

Anyways, If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

Tags🤎(Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @izzyourresidentlawyer @phoenixrising308 @adiehardfan @quixoticdreamer16 @a-crepusculo @cordonianruby @gryffindordaughterofathena

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010 @headoverheelsforramsey @estellaelysian @shanzay44

Ethan x Pooja: @aleynareads @choicesaddict5 @stygianflood @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @takemyopenheart @mm2305

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

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darling-cas · 3 years ago

Text

Hoax (an original story)

I amaze myself sometimes.

My therapist says I need to go back to things that bring me joy, says I need to find happiest in life again. During one specific session, I was asked to name a time when I was truly at peace, a time I felt moments of pure joy outside of my partner and friends. The first thing that came to mind was a time years ago, when I would post stories here, on this website, for you all to see.

This surprised me honestly, because if you knew me personally (*cough* hi @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie *cough*) you would know the amount of stress and pressure I put myself under when it came to writing We Are Young, Whatever It Takes, etc, etc, etc. But despite all the negative emotions, the moments that always stand out to me is sitting on my laptop after I clicked post, watching all the love and adoration pure in from each and every one of you.

I say this monthly but, I really do want to get back into writing. Thanks to my therapist and business major partner, I’ve been dipping my toes into editing for others as a side job. But I want to make my way back to writing my own stories and sharing them with even the smallest corner of the world. This story, Hoax, I wrote actually one year ago, when I first started therapy and after a hard heartbreak. It helped me feel like myself again and lifted me out of the darkness.

I hope, for even the smallest number of you, it does the same. I hope you can feel the same magic that I felt when I wrote it. Take this as a thank you for, years ago, bringing me such joy and happiness.

Until next time...

Cas.

--------------------

The air was midsummer sweet.

It was an Indian summer of blue sky dreams and late evening tears, with the weather shifting moods in the blink of an eye. Grey clouds would eclipse the setting sun with their mighty fists, soaking up the colour of the earth like ink drenching a cotton ball.

And with the continuous alternating weather came the busty smell of sunblock and wet grass. Summer scents combined with the salty air and pungent fish that cling to Jake’s senses from the moment he started his journey along the coastal towns.

His mountain travels started just mere days ago. The task of hiking the grand peak was something he was finally going to cross off his bucket list. Dipping into his savings and requesting a week or two off work was a small price to pay when it came to the tranquility and beauty laid bare before him.

Born and raised on the outskirts of the city, there hadn't been much nature for him to appreciate and admire growing up. But from the moment Jake entered the first small, close-knit fishing town, all he could seem to do was appreciate and stare in outright awe.

The land laid undisturbed all around; the mountains, the trees, the ocean, they had all planted their roots, dug in their heels, and refused to surrender. Cities had been conquered, the vast expansion of country fields and towering summits were placed in chains, forced to give themselves to man. But here, on the coast of fishing villages, it seems as if Land and Man came to an agreement, a compromise, an understanding, to live in peace as one.

Roads of all kinds swerved, twisted, curled up and down along the coast, between the trees. Houses of unnaturally charming bright blues, yellows, oranges, and greens sat gracefully against the mountain rocks, climbing up the forest-speckled cliffs. Homes and buildings of sea-weathered colour rested on the broken shoreline. Boats bobbed in the water, their docks reaching out towards the horizon like fingers longing to reach and touch a disappearing lover.

In the coastal towns, driving along the sunset stained ocean, Jake swore he would never see true beauty again.

Even now, when the sky wept tears of sorrow, its beauty never vanished.

The weather came on suddenly, as he passed the welcoming sign for Higdon's Harbour. The roads became slick, a ghostly fog settled in, and the colours were muted a few shades darker by the clouds above. Rivers trickled down the mountain side, disappearing into shallow ditches. Waves started to leap and jump to catch the increasing wind. All while the sky cried on and on.

Jake drove on through the town. Classic rock thumped softly in the background and raindrops tapped on the roof of the car. He had planned not to stop for the night until the next town over. He had driven through several rain storms since the start of his trip, and this was nothing.

But the cracks in the sky's broken heart continued to grow with exceptional pain. Tears of despair quickly turned to tears of anger. The beating on the car became more aggressive as the wind wailed daunting threats and the ocean frantically waved its arms.

It became too much, too quick. Jake was used to driving through bad weather, but not seaside storms. Not gusting winds and sideways rain. Plus, he decided, he was already making good time. So when the flashing green neon sign reading Beaumont Motel came into view, he didn’t hesitate to pull off the road, into the parking lot, and turn off his car.

A bell jingled above as Jake pushed open the door. He stepped into the warmth of the lobby, drenched through his clothes and soaking the carpet under his feet.

“Turned nasty out there real quick, didn’t it?”

Jake threw off his hood, shaking out his damp, blonde hair as he caught sight of an older woman with long grey hair smiling at him from behind a wooden desk.

She pulled her beige cardigan closer around her, brown eyes crinkling in the corners. “Looking for a room, hun?”

“If you happen to have one available,” Jake replied, walking towards the desk and setting down his backpack. Judging by the lack of cars in the parking lot, he was more than confident there were plenty of empty rooms. Still, he glanced at the woman’s name tag and flashed her a smile. “Vera.”

“Oh, hun,” Vera chuckled. Her fingers tapped away on the computer that looked too new to be in the small, tacky, lobby with flower-patterned wallpaper. A lobby that was decorated with simply a small sitting area off to the side, a dusty fireplace warming the room, a dark wooden desk, rouge carpet, and outdated lighting fixtures. “I think I have one or two available. For how long will we be seeing your handsome face around?”

“Only a night,” Jake said. “I’m just passing through.”

“Storm pushed you off the road, huh?” Vera turned around and grabbed a key off one of the hooks on the wall. “It should only last the night. Nightly storms are common for us during this time of year. Here you go, hun.”

“Thank you!” Jake took the key before picking up his bag once more, throwing it over his shoulder.

“If you’re looking to warm up a bit, Kay & Elle, the pub next door, is open for a few more hours,” Vera informed him, fixing her wool cardigan on her shoulders. “A lot of the locals inhabit the place, but we’re friendly folks here. I’m sure they’ll keep you entertained for a bit.”

“Thank you for the suggestion!” Jake pulled his hood back over his head. “Have a good night, Vera.”

She waved him off with a dazzling smile. “Enjoy your short time at Higdon’s Harbour.”

Rain beat down around Jake as the lobby door closed behind him. The sticky air promised an onslaught of thunder and lightning, but it had yet to develop. With a glance at the metal key in his hand, Jake made out a marked 9 engraved at the top. His toes were cold as he quickly made it to the door and inserted the key before pushing the door open and stepping into the musty smelling room.

It was just as drab as the lobby. The double-bed was dressed in off-white coverings. Cream walls, dark carpet, and tacky seaside pictures. Along with two side tables by the bed, a small TV on top of a mini fridge, and a bathroom door on the far wall.

It wasn’t the nicest looking room he’d ever stayed in, but he would also be lying if he said he hadn’t stayed in worse before.

With a tired and uncomfortable sigh, Jake tossed his bag onto the bed, peeled off his wet coat, and padded off into the bathroom.

He never really thought of going to the pub Vera had mentioned. His only plans that evening consisted of taking a scalding shower before crawling into bed. Maybe watching some TV or reading the book at the bottom of his bag to spice up the night.

Yet, once the two former items on his agenda were checked off, an uneasiness fell over him. Neither the TV nor his book could hold his attention. The bedsheets itched his legs. His heart thumped in his chest, just fast enough to be noticeable. He couldn’t sit still.

Lightning flashed outside and Jake’s head whipped in the direction of the window. The pub came into view; the two porch lights twinkled in the dark and laughter sounded in time to the pounding storm. It shimmered in the lightning’s afterglow, the rain creating a silver mist of magic around the stone building.

Jake tossed off the sheets and threw on some clothes and his damp jacket. The pull in the pit of his stomach pushed him towards the front door without Jake even really realizing what he was doing. But he chalked it up to boredom and the anxiety of being knocked off his schedule.

He left the warmth of his room behind, almost crashing into a figure as he gently closed his door. An apology was on the tip of his tip tongue when a feeling of nausea washed over him. He felt dizzy, stomach turning. But it was gone between one blink and the next, along with the person. Jake got a glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye followed by bells and laughter as the door to room 8 snapped closed.

The thunderous weather started to overload Jake's senses and the urge to get to the pub was greater. With his head down, the figure fading from his memory, Jake made his way across the parking lot.

A drink or two would kill some time, he thought to himself. At least it would help settle the uneasiness and put him to sleep.

The mist around the pub seemed to glow as Jake drew closer, but he was too busy keeping the rain out of his eyes to pay much mind to it. Warmth shot up his arm as he pushed the door open, a jingle filling the room.

The smell of liquor and smoke tainted with the slight scent of sweat greeted Jake as he stepped over the threshold of Kay & Elle. The low rumble of a banjo filled the space, bouncing off the wooden rafters, mixing with the low mumbles and chuckles of the clusters of people scattered around the room. It wasn’t a full house, but crowded enough given the storm outside.

With his footsteps sounding off the wood floors, Jake made his way to the dark-oak bar. He received a few stares and nods of acknowledgment as he walked by men and women alike, sitting at tables and standing by pool tables. As he walked past, he took in the stone walls, the empty stage in the back, the shimmering yellow lights, and the photos of fishermen, smiling ladies, and vast landscapes littered throughout the walls.

He took off his jacket, his heart having settled from the moment he entered the pub. Jake wasn’t a man who believed in faith, but in his bones, deep in his marrow, he knew this was where he was meant to be, for whatever reason.

“Well ain’t you a fresh face,” the elder man behind the bar remarked as Jake sat in one of the barstools, just a few seats down from a hunched over figure nursing a glass of whiskey.

Jake placed his wet jaket on the chair beside him as he chuckled. “Hard to be a stranger in this town.”

“Small-town life, my boy. Everyone knows everyone.” The man threw a towel over his shoulder, his dark hair pulled back in a low pony-tail, causing the wrinkles on his slim, tan face to be on full display. His green eyes sparkled in welcome and his smile pulled at the faded scar on his left cheek. “Passing through?”

The dim lights jumped and danced off the many bottles lining the wall behind the bar. A muted glow hugged the bar, the music changing to the beat of a fiddle.

“I am, but the storm took me off the road for the night,” Jake explained.

“You staying at the Beaumont?”

Jake nodded. “The woman, Vera, recommended I stop by for a drink.”

The words tasted bitter, full of half-truths and false tales. But Jake wasn’t sure why, just as he wasn’t sure how to explain his need to be sitting in the pub at that particular moment.

“That woman,” the elder man chuckled with a shake of his head. “She sends more business this way than any billboard ad ever could. Well, have a drink while you’re here…"

“Jake.”

The music skipped a beat as the fiddle played a harsh note. The air turned bitter and cold. Jake’s limbs urged him to run, screamed that he made a mistake, scolded him for giving his name so willingly. But it was a reflex; the word leaving his lips before he understood what was happening. An impulse came over him, the same one that pulled him to obey the man's demand and order a drink.

No one seemed to notice the odd behaviour, aside from the hunched over figure a few seats down. His depthless brown eyes flashed to Jake, grey hair falling across his pale, sweaty forehead. There was a look of pain and madness in those eyes. Jake opened his mouth to say something when a draft of beer appeared in front of him. And suddenly he couldn’t remember why his limbs felt tense or why there was a cold sweat on the back on his neck.

“Nice to meet ya, Jake,” the bartender smiled with a gleam in his bottle-green eyes. “Name’s Murphy.”

“Likewise,” Jake raised his drink before bringing the glass to his lips, downing half of it in a few gulps.

The hunched man tipped back the last of his whiskey, slamming the glass hard on the bartop.

“Murphy,” he spoke in a husky voice, like the sound of asphalt and gravel.

A flash of irritation, with just a hint of sadness, came over Murphy's face. He didn’t say a word as he quickly prepared another glass, sliding it gently in front of the stranger.

“Take it easy, Harold. That’s your third now.”

Harold grunted, shooting back half the glass without a word.

Murphy sighed, every other emotion but worry washing from his face for the smallest moment, before he turned back to Jake with a smile on his lips.

“So, where were you headed before the rain knocked you off track?”

After another smaller sip of beer, Jake explained his mountain travel plans and his desire to reach the great peak that waited for him at the end.

“Good on ya. Do it all now while you’re still young and can move about,” Murphy said with a chuckle. “This a solo trip? Or are you with someone special? Perhaps they’re waiting for you back in your room?”

“No,” Jake chuckled, ignoring the grunt of clear annoyance from the man a few seats down from him. “Just me.”

A glimmer appeared in the old man's eye. “So no one speical then? No sweetheart waiting for ya?”

Glass rattled as Harold slammed his empty drink back down on the bar.

Jake cast a sideways glance at the stranger. Restlessness rushed through him as he slowly sat up straighter. Tension gripped his limbs as Harold turned to look at him. Those unnaturally dark eyes shined with intensity. They held so much knowledge, so much pain, so much fury that Jake couldn’t look away.

“Don’t waste your time with such things, boy,” Harold grumbled, voice rough and firm. His brows were pulled together so tight they were touching, as the bar cast his face in shadows of back and grey. “Love is pointless.”

He said the word love with such hatred, Jake felt as if the stone structure surrounding them would cave in and collapse.

Murphy, for his part, looked just as on edge. It was a fact that did little to calm Jake's sudden nervousness.

“Harold,” he sighed. “Let’s take a moment-”

“There is one thing that is certain when it comes to love,” Harold continued, eyes gazing unblinkingly at Jake. “It is nothing but pain. Love is made up of pain and heartbreak and bitter ends. It is a useless and pointless part of the whole damn human existence.”

A hush fell over the bar, as if even the other guests could sense the mood Harold had brought about. The upbeat tone of the fiddle suddenly switched to a soulless wail. . A shiver ran up Jake’s spine and he begged his body to turn away, to dismiss the man and be done with it. But he couldn’t. His unmerciful gaze pulled him in and suddenly Jake was drowning in the scent of liquor and smoke and dead leaves and depthless seas.

“You fight so hard." Harold gripped his glass, and a crack started to appear. “You fight with all you have and give yourself completely and it's no good. It doesn’t matter. Nothing you do is good enough. Love is about fighting a losing battle and in the end, only one person suffers the consequences. And it's usually the one who fought the hardest.”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was firm, loud, booming over the music as Jake jumped back in his seat. He didn’t realize how intently he’d been listening to Harold. How he was hanging on to every word like it was air. Or how, while talking to the terrifying man, for the first time since entering the town, Higdon’s Harbour glowed with colour.

An angry, remorseless, pulsating red colour.

Harold held Jake's gaze for a moment longer, intense eyes cast in complete shadow, before turning back to the bar.

“Thanks for the advice,” Jake found himself saying, voice shaking more than he'd like to admit. He didn’t mean to speak, the words simply rushed out of him with an aftertaste of smoke.

Clearing his throat, Jake downed the last of his beer before pushing the glass towards Murphy for a refill.

A hush fell around them for just a few moments, the tension already starting to subside. Jake felt his shoulders drop as he slowly sipped his beer and Murphy slid Harold a glass of water. After some small talk with the old bartender, Jake felt himself able to breathe once more. His body started to relax, the fog lifting from his head. He was breaking the surface and forgetting all about the darkness of the ocean and the murdered limbs of the trees on the forest floor.

While on his third drink, Murphy started to get busy with the other parties of the bar. Tables started to ask for refills, and drenched couples walked through the door, the wind roaring behind them. He drifted more and more between the bar and the tables. And it was about that time that Jake decided he would soon be calling it a night.

“You shouldn’t have stopped, boy.”

Ice crawled up Jake’s spine at the sound of that sandpaper voice. Murphy was off to some seemingly remote corner of the bar. Jake couldn’t help but notice that every new body who walked in stayed far away from the bar, from him, and from Harold.

Jake gripped the tall draft in his hand, foam and condensation running through his numb fingers.

He turned to face Harold, those black soulless eyes dragging him into the abyss. He was in a freefall, too much rushed through him all at once. A thumping started at his left temple and his heart dropped to his stomach as he fell and fell and fell from the bowels of the sky through the open arms of the corpse-like trees.

“You shouldn’t have stopped,” Harold spat, teeth clenched and head hung low. “You should get out of this cursed town before they get you too. They know you’re here. They knew you’d be here before you knew you’d be here. They got to the rest of this damned town. They got her. Get out before they get you too, boy.”

Fear rooted Jake in place. Fear for what, he couldn’t tell. But in the back of his mind, in the depth of his soul, he knew Harold was right. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t have stopped. Yet, the thought of leaving caused his heart to clench and spots to form behind his eyes. Without his control, he found his lips forming the words -

“Who are they?”

The lights flickered with the time of the thunder clashing outside. The fiddle faded out and the haunting strings of a violin floated through the room, accompanied by a soulful woman's wail.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t provoke this man. He should just pay his tab, get up, and leave. But it was unexplainable, much like the whole night had been. He simply couldn’t help himself.

Harold completely turned to Jake. The harsh lines on his face caught the glow of the dim lights. His eyes burned with unattainable wisdom and passion. Jake's heart started to race, limbs locking into place as he noticed the music slowed. Along with, somehow, every other body and soul in the bar. A haze filled the room, a mist blurring and engulfing everything that was not Jake and was not Harold. Even the storm seemed to hush, with only the woman's cry continuing on.

“Let me tell you a story, son.” Harold’s voice turned mystical, the words floating in the air between the two. “Cause I’ve lost my friends, my family, this whole damn town, and yet no one will believe me. They think I’m a nut-case, a man full of grief. But I ain’t, you hear? And maybe you’ll believe me. Maybe you won’t. But they took my wife-”

“Your wife is missing?”

Jake’s pulse jumped as Harold leaned in close, his blood-shot eyes burning crimson red. “For years now. Cause they took her.”

“They?” Jake repeated, feeling physically ill.

Harold nodded. “The fairies.”

He should have laughed. He should have backed off. His mind should have been yelling at him that the man was senile, crazy, insane. He should have bid him goodbye, called over Murphy, and been done with this place, this man. This man who was staring at him with all the earnestness in the world.

Fairies.

The word danced around in his head, bells and whistles suddenly joining in with the escalating violin. Suddenly, the whole town made all the sense in the world and yet, none at all.

“Fairies?” Jake spoke slow and steady. “They’re just folklore. A myth.”

Even as he said it, the words turned to dust on his tongue. He wanted to wash the taste out with his beer, but found he genuinely couldn’t move.

“The Harbour Fairies,” Harold whispered. “Nasty creatures. And if you believe they’re just a myth, you’re as foolish as the rest of them. If you believe there isn’t more to this world, that we’re the only beings here, you’re blin. These aren’t just some little buggers who pick your berries and sprinkle dust. They are savage, mischievous demons.”

Jake started to shake his head, mostly to clear the fog that had started to form. “I don’t-”

“We here grew up wearing our clothes inside out and carrying bread in our pockets to stop the little people from leading us astray,” Harold spoke with more urgency than Jake had heard all night, “But little good it did. Everyone was blinded by what was right in front of them. These creatures play tricks. Oh, they love tricks. And not the fun kind. No, the kind that leads you over a cliff or dead at the bottom of the sea. They are unpredictable forces of nature who lead you in the woods, and suddenly you're never heard of again.”

“And they got your wife.”

“They stole her,” Harold spat the words into the air. His gaze flicked towards the red-head who walked past them, beer in hand, before he spoke again. “They took her from me. Everyone here believes she ran away, but I know. I caught them you see, I saw it with my own two eyes. One day she was in the garden, the next…”

… she walked into the woods, never to be seen again. Jake knew because he saw it himself. He watched it play out in Harold’s aged eyes. And suddenly he was inserted into a story that was not his. He didn’t feel right; too tight in his skin, eyes unable to properly focus on the greys, blacks, and whites of the world. But he still watched.

A grass-stained seven year old boy cradled the arm of a pretty girl with messy blonde hair. They sat in a treehouse, feet dangling over the edge, kicking at the clouds. The girl had tear-tracks running down her cheeks and dead flowers stuck in her hair. She was biting her lip, nodding as the boy spoke.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” he whispered sternly.

“I didn’t mean to,” her lips trembled, gaze moving to anything but the boy before her. “It wasn’t my fault.”

The boy shook his head as he ran his hand over the forming bruise. “You gotta be more careful Cathy. What if something were to happen to ya?”

“Then let's get out of this town, Harry,” a seventeen-year old girl twirled in the headlights of an old pick-up truck. The waves crashed against the shore in the distance, the sun tenderly kissing the horizon goodbye. The girl’s blonde, messy braids whipped around her shoulder, dress bunched at her ankles. She stood before a brown haired boy, grass-stains on his jeans, leaning against the red truck. “Let’s pack up and leave after graduation next week.”

“And go where, Cathy?” The boy shook his head. “I have a job lined up on the boat and you have-”

“Nothing! I have nothing!” She threw her hands in the air. “I ain’t got nothing lined up. Just my next shift at the diner. I want to go to school, you know I do. But papa-”

“Don’t worry about your father,” the boy grabbed at the girls skirts, pulling her so close their hips touched. “I told you, I’ll protect you from your papa.”

The girl bit her lips, forest green eyes glancing over the boy's shoulder. Her face was tender but the look of caution never left. As if she wanted to believe the boy holding her but her heart refused to pay heed. “Promise?”

“I do.”

Applause thundered across the crowd, the waves beating against the rocky cliffs. The man lifted the woman's veil, tucking a piece of messy blonde hair behind her ear before gripping the back of her neck. He leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips. Whistles and wails filled the air, a screaming violin starting to play as the newly-weds walked down the aisle.

She held on her husband’s arm like a life-line, biting her lip as her father clapped the bride-groom on the shoulder. Her eyes darted around the crowd, the same look of caution from five years ago still masked her face.

It was a look that never left her face, a look that was forever present in the back on her eyes. It was the only thought Jake found he was able to form; the look of a woman who was scared. The look of a woman who was holding a secret.

And maybe she was, for that look stayed with her for all the years to come, Jake noticed. He watched Harold's and Catherine’s life play out before him, just as Harold described. The twenty plus years together. The moments of tender love, the moments of bitter fights. The squealing laughter and howling sobs. The funerals and the weddings, The slamming bottles and doors leading to nights together and alone. It wasn’t the best marriage, but what marriage is, Harold said.

They never had kids, their life centred around just the two of them, their fading love and the growing tension. Every second leading up to that moment, in a garden of muted yellows, reds, and oranges.

Flowers in her messy hair, a near fifty year old Catherine knelt before a bed of dirt. Sunglasses covered her eyes, dirt stained her knees, finger nails, and cheeks. She was silent as she worked.

A door slammed in the distance. “Catherine!”

The tension became electricity in the air. Catherine’s head snapped up as footsteps made their way to the backyard.

Jake noticed it at the exact moment she did. The wind switched directions, bells jingled off the tree tops, mystical laughter floated out from the forest on the other side of the garden.

Catherine turned slowly. The flower fell out of her hair. She tossed the sunglasses onto the ground and her bruised, deep green eyes glowed against the muted world. She walked towards the tree line, footfalls light. Laughter bubbled past her own lips and, between one step and the next, she was gone.

“... the forest swallowed her up and I knew they got to her.”

Jack was back in the bar. Everything rested as it had, and he himself wasn’t even sure if what he had just witnessed was real. Surely not, but the description and details felt real, tangible. As if, for a moment, he truly stood in Harold's memories.

“The forest was the only way out,” Harold’s eyes were wide, urgent, and the brightest things in the whole bar. “It was either through the house or the forest. And she’d been acting out for years. Always in the garden, out on her own. They got her, it's the only answer. But,” a pause, eyes shifting. “I know where she is.”

Jake swallowed, throat dry as sandpaper. “You do?”

“An island just a few miles out in sea. A rocky cliff, that's where they stay,” Harold nodded, talking more to himself than Jake. “She's there, with them. I’m taking my boat out tomorrow morning. I’m going to get her and-”

“Harold.”

Murphy’s voice was enough to make Jake jump back. He never noticed how close he had been leaning towards the old man. Just as he never realized how tightly he was holding his warm, untouched third glass of beer. He pulled his hand back, wiping it on his jeans as the pulsing in his left temple grew stronger.

As he looked around the pub, Jake took in all the faces looking his way. Eyes bounced between him and Harold, whispers and murmurs accompanying the flute and violin pair. It was only when Murphy loudly, purposely, cleared his throat that the inhabitants of the bar started to look as if they weren’t listening.

“Harold,” Murphy spoke softly, placing a hand on Harold’s tense shoulder. “I think it's time to head home, friend.”

There was a fight in Harold’s eyes, Jake could see it. That bloodshot, haunting, soulless gaze held a fire and life to them, ignited by the hatred for creatures that couldn’t exist. But the moment Murphy spoke, the moment Harold looked around the pub and saw all the eyes on him, the fire vashined. It was as quick as releasing a breath, there one minute and gone the next.

Harold held Jake’s gaze. There was still so much left unsaid, unanswered, and Jake found he didn’t want him to go. His mind and soul craved to know more about fairies and their secret world.

A laughter echoed off the rafters, and Jake realized for the first time that night how terrified and exposed he truly was.

“Tomorrow morning,” Harold grunted as he stood, the invitation loud and clear. Jake didn’t understand why Harold was inviting him along but it somehow made all the sense in the world.

With no other parting words, with not so much as a glance at any other living soul in the pub, Harold walked out. Back hunched as he disappeared over the threshold, rain and wind howling as they swallowed him whole.

A hush carried on throughout the pub for a few heartbeats. Until the flute faded back into the plucking of a guitar. Someone cheered, laughter followed, and soon the lively atmosphere of the bar was back once more. As if the haunted man with an implausible story wasn’t present a few moments before.

“Is it true?” Jake found himself asking, tongue sliding across his chapped lips. He turned in his chair, facing Murphy, who now stood behind the bar. He hoped his shaking hand wasn't noticeable as he raised his beer to his lips. “About those… about the fairies.”

The word tasted like strawberries and metal on his lips.

Murphy glanced up for the glass he was cleaning, scar strained across his cheek as he pursed his lips. “They’re urban folktales. Myths passed down through all the generations of the Harbour.”

“And his wife?”

Murphy paused. He let out a sign, placed the glass under the bar before turning to Jake. Worry and concern shinned in his eyes.

“She left him,” he explained softly, mindful of the ears around. “Packed up and left, just like that.”

“Just like that?” Jake raised an eyebrow at Murphy’s hesitation.

“There were… rumours about cheating and drunken fights but…” Murphy took a breath, crossing his arms on the bartop as he leaned in close. “Look, Harry's a good guy, difficult but good. Our families know each other well. And Cathy… well she had a hard life with her father. She wasn’t all there before she left and Harold took it hard. He still won't get help and has himself convinced the Harbour Fairies are behind it. Says he’s seen things with his own eyes that explains it.”

Jake swallowed, leg bouncing restlessly. “He’s going out tomorrow morning-”

“Yeah,” Murphy nodded solemnly. “We’ve tried to stop him, talk sense. But he won’t listen. And he’s at the age and point now where we've given up - what can ya do.”

A lot. Jake glanced around the pub, taking in the numerous people laughing, chatting, drinking. He didn’t know these people, he shouldn’t judge, but they could be doing something to help that man. He may be talking crazy but… was he?

The more Jake studied the bar, the more it felt like a fog was lifting. The pieces were falling into place. The math was suddenly starting to make sense. And Jake refused to acknowledge the answers that were before him.

“Where is she then?” Jake asked, breathing through his nose to calm his racing heart. “His wife. Catherine.”

“No one knows,” Murphy admitted. “She got out of this town, that's for sure. And no one has heard from her since.”

“No one checks in?” Jake couldn’t hide the disbelief from his voice. “No one’s tried to find out where she is or what happened.”

Murphy watched Jake for an uncomfortable moment. His eyes looked him over, mouth twisting as if to say something. But then his lips shut, he blinked, and he shrugged before pointing to the still full glass in front of Jake. “You want another?”

Jake's breath caught in his throat. Claws bit into his spine. His skin felt too tight as a breeze brushed the back of his neck, red flashing in his vision. The room was too small and too big all at once. He didn’t know why he was feeling such a way or what had brought it on. But his gut knew it was because of this town.

And he knew he wanted to get out.

The door to the pub shut as a couple walked out, but the noise still rattled against Jake’s bones as he shook his head.

“No,” he stood up, hand shaking as he pulled out some bills and tossed them on the bar. “I think I’ll call it a night actually.”

Murphy picked up the money, either not noticing the odd behaviour or choosing to ignore it as he smiled. “Well, Mr. Jake, I hope you enjoy the rest of your short stay. Maybe someday we’ll get to see you passing through the Harbour again.”

“Who knows,” Jake gave a nervous chuckle, “It seems anything is possible.”

He left the pub in shambles. The smell of ashes and fowl fish followed Jake as he made his way to the door. Tables were knocked off centre, chairs were tipped over. The banjo played too loud and slightly off key. Men and women alike stumbled over one another, drinks spilled onto the floor. Even Murphy’s slicked back pony was a mess, falling into his dark, sweat covered face.

The illusion was breaking, the corners being pulled back to show something ugly and monstrous. Something those who inhabited Higdon’s Harbour refused to acknowledge.

Jake stepped over the threshold, blood pounding through his veins. He welcomed the rain beating down on his face, the wind biting through his damp jacket and nipping at his icy skin. The door to Kay & Elle closed with a thunderous bang. The banjo and hysterical laughter was replaced by sorrowful wind and wailing rain.

He stood there for a moment, face turned towards the sky as he tried to will air into his lungs.

He needed to get out of this town.

Whatever force pulled Jake towards the pub earlier was controlled by a demon. He didn’t know what purpose it served him, to hear about Harold and the fairies… fairies that shouldn’t, didn’t, couldn’t exist…

Someone squealed and giggled across the parking lot. With a jump, heart in his throat, Jake started to make his way back to the safety of his room.

And he was almost there, just a mere few steps away, when his body suddenly felt as if it were stretched too thin. Nausea overcame him and his head spun. The rain pierced his skin like devilish needles and the wind sang a woman's lullaby in his ear. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, thunder crashing as someone bumped into his shoulder.

It was an innocent tap, the woman clearly too captivated by the lady on her arm to notice him. But it did all the damage in the world.

“Oh!” She gasped, the sound like a thousand bells. She grabbed his arm, full-lips pulled back in an apologetic smile as all the air vanished from Jake's chest. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn't breath, the pulsing in his left temple was suddenly magnified by ten. The warmth of her hand on his arm spread through his whole body. He no longer felt the wind and rain beating against him, he was too allured by her auburn curls, high-cheekbones, and hazel eyes that glistened like moss coated in morning dew.

She was the most hauntingly beautiful creature he had ever beheld. And every part of his being begged him to run.

“Are you okay, Jake?” Her partner spoke up. They were holding one another so close, arms locked tight, it was as if they were one. Gravity pulled them together; where one moved the other followed. A simple stranger such as himself could not doubt their adoration and love.

Jake ripped his gaze away from the red-headed woman and looked at her partner. He took in her slim face, the dirty dress, and messy blonde hair pinned back with a flower.

It was then that Jake noticed that both women were completely dry.

It was then that Jake realized they knew his name.

It was then that his eyes met the blonde’s green ones, and he saw it all.

“I told you not to make your papa mad,” a seven year old boy with grass stains on his knees told the six year old girl with a bruised arm.

“I didn’t mean to,” she trembled, and Jake realized she wasn’t avoiding the boys gaze. She was looking at someone else. She was looking at the young auburn haired creature standing a few feet away, invisible to the boy and eyes tense with worry. “It wasn't my fault.”

Be more careful, the boy told her at the exact moment the creature met the girl's gaze and said, I know. I’ll protect you.

“I told you,” said a seventeen year old boy as he gripped a sixteenth year old's skirts. “I’ll protect you from your papa.”

You know he can’t, Cathy, The auburn creature said, standing over the boy's shoulder as she held the girl’s green-eyed gaze. I’ll protect you from them both.

The blonde trembled. “Promise?”

With all the power of the forest and the sea. I promise.

She was there, always there. She did all she could to keep her promise. But it seemed even she was limited in her abilities.

Jake watched Harold and Catherine's life play out once more. As the twenty plus years faded together, the moments of tender love vanished. The fights were more frequent, more aggressive than Harold let on. He stumbled home in the dark more than once, eyes bloodshot and words slurred. There were many years of fights and screams. Fists were thrown and bones were broken. And the red-head was there through it all, helping as best as she could. She cared for Cathy, tried to protect her, but it wasn’t enough.

Run away with me, Cathy. It's the only way.

And run she did.

It wasn’t a laugh that called Catherine to the forest that day in the garden as Harold’s raging voice bellowed off the walls of the house. No, it was not a laugh at all, but her name, spoken in bells and chimes, love and warmth.

Catherine stepped over the threshold of the forest, laughter on her lips, as she jumped into the arms of the beautiful red-headed fairy.

She didn’t leave, wasn’t taken. She willingly left her delusional old life for one of magic and wonder and respect.

Jake stumbled back a step, shaking off the hand of the creature before him. His head was spinning, his stomach turned and his vision blurred as he truly saw the two ladies before him. As he noticed the glow around them, the electricity that danced in their wake.

This town, these people… how could anyone let a woman suffer as Catherine did and not do anything? How could they not see what was right in front of them?

And these creatures, the fairies, Harold painted them as the demons and yet, this fairy was Catherine’s saving grace, her lover, her protector...

They shared a look, the two lovers, before turning back to him. They didn’t say another word as the fairy smiled at Jake, white teeth flashing, and blew him a kiss. They turned to leave, Catherine giving him a wink over her shoulder, before disappearing into their hotel room. Right next door to his.

Jake stumbled as fast as he could to his room, slamming the door behind him as he tried to catch his breath and will his mind to understand what the hell was going on.

It took him a few moments to realize, for the first time all night, he was completely dry.

----------

Light had yet to transform the morning sky when Jake sped out of the Beaumont Motel parking lot. The rain had stopped and the winds were whisked away. Grey clouds lingered in the sky, suffocating the rising sun on the horizon.

What was once a piece of art to Jake was now the ugliest thing he had ever seen.

The mountain reached its claws to the sky, holding all the trees and buildings in the palm of its hand. The roads swerved in and out of its fingers, weather-worn homes running up the forest-speckled hills, trying to escape. The ocean leaped for joy as it played with the rocky cliffs, trying to capture and destroy anything it could reach. The boats bobbed in the water, begging to be let free, while the docks pointed their fingers to the open sea, luring in any desperate and lonely souls to the corrupt town.

The ocean was painted an angry blue against the grey light. The white-capped waves pounded against anything in their way. What Jake once thought was a place of harmony, he realized now, was an illusion.

The image had been shattered, broken beyond repair.

The land had won after all, he realized now. It had conquered Higdon’s Harbour and all within it. There was no agreement, no compromise to live in peace. For nothing could truly defeat nature.

The land cackled against the last remains of the raging storm winds. For it knew the game it was playing; it knew who truly ruled the town. And it was not man.

Jake made it out before the first kitchen light flickered on. Before the inhabitants of Higdon’s Harbour woke and started about their delusional lives. His heart pounded in his chest the whole way, hands shaking as they gripped his steering wheel. Even when he passed the city line, his body refused to relax. Not as the sound of chimes echoed on and on and on in his head.

By the time Jake remembered Harold, he was long gone. And he was too far out to turn back. Too far out to hear the news, or see the headline of the Higdon’s Harbour newspaper that morning. And to hear the otherworldly laugh that accompanied it.

Man Crashes Boat Off Rocky Cliffs In Desperate Search Of His Wife.

#oringinal character #original writing #original story #fairies #tog #acotar #fanfiction #tog fanfic #tog fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #cas writing #personal

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

❛ IT'S NOT JUST A TATTOO ❜

✨ REQUEST BY ANON: Hiiiiiiiii! Can I get a HC on Happy telling his girl he loves her, wants her to be his OL and get his crow? Pleeeease.

✨ REQUEST BY @ocetevasgirl: Hola cielo! Can I request "Don't look at me like that" with Happy please? 💕☺️

Words: about 1.2k

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place or something that makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ HAPPY LOWMAN MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

There's something that has grown inside him, like a seed planted in the ground, the first time you kissed him. You were flirting with Happy since the very first moment you met him. And even if he thought it was just for fun, the alcohol helped to show him you were serious.

He doesn't hide his acts anymore.

It's been three months since you two started to play.

Sex is good. Sex is pretty good. Your bodies look like they were made for each other. You understand the other to perfection. Every move is made in sync. He really loves the bite you have with him for making him moan, due he's too low. But you always get it.

He wasn't used to touching you, holding hands, or kissing you in front of his brothers. It has happened in two or three situations, very rarely, very randomly. And you have noticed that for two weeks, more or less: he doesn't hide his acts anymore.

Happy likes to watch you fixing some bikes at Teller-Morrows. He likes the way your hand moves, bolting, painting a hood, checking the pressure (...). Your fingers dance all around with delicate and accurate touches. He could be by your side for hours enraptured on the tasks your hands attend to.

Whenever he loses control or his calm, he goes to find you wherever you are. As soon as you're close enough, Happy sinks his nose in one side of your neck. Takes a deep, deep, deep long breath and presses his lips over your throbbing carotid artery. Your heart beating and pumping brings back his cool. Your fingers gently and slowly caressing the back of his head helps too.

He has been needing to have his hands on you the whole time. At least, one. On your lower back, around your forearm, gripping your wrist, on your nape, on your thighs (...). Anywhere is valid to him. It's not a way to mark his territory, but to make you feel that he is there, that you don't need protection but he protects you, that he likes your tact.

And it's funny how he is like your personal bartender in SOA parties. You want a glass of whisky, rum, gin? He brings you a bottle of your favorite one. Your beer is almost empty? He finds the coolest in the fridge for you. Are you hungry? He prepares you a sandwich, in the clubhouse kitchen. Sometimes, the guys tease him about it, but he doesn't care anymore. Happy only wants to make you feel comfortable, attended, loved. Happy.

He has never danced in his life, but when Mayans come to Charming and play latin music, it's impossible for him to not try to dance with you; watching you provoking him with the moves of your hips swinging and that shameless smile on your lips that only he owns.

Marcus has taught him some basic moves? Marcus has taught him some basic moves.

He already loves you. He loves every single thing about you. The way you have to imitate his favorite cartoons' voices. The way you have to understand and read his body when there are no words from him. The way you take care of his wounds, without asking what happened, who he has killed. The way your lips feel around all his length, tightly and warmly closed, sucking out the air of his lungs.

He wants to tell you about his feelings. But he doesn't know how to do it. Happy feels insecure that you're not in his orbit, that you do it only because sex is from another dimension. He has asked Chibs because Tig would simply advise him about fucking the hell out of you against a wall and keep doing it until you get tired of his dick. Chibs has told him to be sincere, to use the confidence between the two of you, and ask you about what you want.

But when he comes to you, simply saying “what 'you want from me”, he scares the shit out of you. This time, you can't read in his eyes what is happening within his head. You can't decipher his intentions. Is he going to finish whatever you have? His rough, dry voice hasn't helped either.

“What 'you want from me?” Asking you again, as if you were stupid, only makes you feel worst. Your heart is racing, your throat is closed. You have been working hard to show him that you don't want him for a couple of night-stands; that you really understand him, that you love him, that you want to spend your whole life enjoying his silence. And after all, it seems like it's the end.

“I… want you”. Probably, your words aren't enough for him, watching how he tilts his head just like a confused puppy would do. Something clicks in his head, connecting the two neurons left that aren't damaged for his assassin personality.

“I want you to be my Old Lady”.

Then, your heart stops.

“I love you”.

Then, your heart jumps back to life.

Being an Old Lady doesn't mean only that you're the girl of. It means that you're part of SAMCRO, part of the family. That you have to defend the club with your life, after defending your man. It means being loyal as fuck.

But it also, and most importantly, it means to wake up with his arms around you and going to sleep together every night he's in Charming, drunk or sober. It means furtive kisses whenever and wherever. It means being loved by the loveliest and mortal man on earth. Because yes, he is both things. Happy can't help but spend his time covering you with all kinds of caresses. Happy can't help but spend his time whispering to you that he can't imagine a life without you, that he loves your laugh, that he loves the way your fingers trace every tattoo in his body.

Talking about tattoos… “I want you to get my crow”.

“Then, I want you to tattoo it. What? Don't look at me like that… I know you can do it”.

He can't wait to come back to his house.

He feels fucking powerful retiring the tracing paper from your forearm. The crow is big. The crow is visible. The crow is his.

Happy feels fucking powerful delineating every black line on your skin, before coloring it with the same ink. As your eyes are on his extra concentrated face, your free hand is rested over his right thigh.

It's a piece of art.

You love it.

You love him.

After covering it with cling film to not stain the sheets, when it starts to expulse the excess of ink, Happy kisses it. Happy kisses every single damn inch of it, feeling your other hand caressing the back of his head.

Putting away all the stuff, he urges you to sit on his lap. Facing him. Your legs spread at both sides of the chair. His lips roaming your neck with soft bites, with some grunts when your hips rock slowly over the bulge under his sweatpants. His lips find yours. His tongue finds yours. Your nails gently scratch his bare chest, redrawing invisibly the serpent in it.

For the first time, he doesn't fuck you. He makes you love. He's careful, he doesn't move fast. He covers all your body with magical and sweets caresses. He makes sure that you enjoy them. Happy makes sure that you feel the love he feels for you, in every touch, in every moan he utters, in every move he does.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ✨#sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman imagine #happy lowman

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knockknockchicagopd · 4 years ago

Text

❛ WHO'S THE ALPHA? ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: hi there💞 can i request where reader and antiono dawson are dating in secret and she's pregnant and now they getting it on with some smut in his office and her father hank catches them with some angst please

❚❙ ANTONIO DAWSON MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1.9k

❚❙ NOTES: There's no smut because I couldn't imagine the situation of being caught in the act, also keeping in mind that reader is Hank's daughter. There's no way Antonio would take that kind of risk.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @anotherfan07 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

Since you knew this morning that you're pregnant, you haven't stopped thinking about how you are going to say it to Antonio. It's not a big deal, but it means that your father will know it too. And that's a real problem. But the happiness inside you doesn't let you worry now about that. It's been a long year hiding it from him and maybe it's a good way for him to discover it.

Honestly, you can't wait till coming to his house to tell him and, by the time it is, your father must be in your home already. So you decide to drive to the District. Antonio has to be there, since he hasn't text you yet. Leaving your car in the private parking, you walk in by the back door, going upstairs straight to the Intelligence Unit, passing away what they call the cage and the interview rooms. You can't contain the smile curving up your lips when you find your boyfriend very focused on something in his computer, writing down some kind of notes in a report. He doesn't even notice your presence, till you're in front of him.

“Voight left ten minutes ago”. He says, keeping up appearances just in case someone can hear you.

“We're alone”. You reply raising both eyebrows.

Leaning back on his chair to check both sides of his office, he drags his seat away from his desk enough for you to sit on his lap. Infected by your smile, Antonio can't help but draw the same gesture while placing an arm around your waist and his other hand on the back of your head. He's delighted to see you after a long day of paperwork and his ass stuck on his chair. Sometimes he doesn't know if it is worse to be there or to be in the street. But you're his reward, so he doesn't complain.

His lips find yours in a sigh, purring against them when he feels your warm wrapping him. The only thing he needs. His kisses are soft, slow, gentle. Just like his caresses. Just like him all the time. You found the most tender man you could ask for, and you thank God every day of your life. He takes care of you like no one else, with the most minimal details, without asking anything back. You two are made for each other, that's a fact.

“Antonio… baby, I have to tell you something”.

“Can't it wait?” He mumbles pecking your lips once and again, watching him bite his in the short meantime of meeting again.

“Yeah, actually for… like seven months, more or less”.

With his mouth on yours but not moving a single inch, he pulls himself away from you frowning confused. Your boyfriend doesn't last longer than two seconds to put his brain cells to work and connects the dots. His gesture changes from playful and joy to a big pout, as his eyes are filled up with tears.

“Dios mío”.

It's the first time you watch him crying since you know him, for more than eight years. You don't doubt cleaning the tears that fall down by his cheek, as his sobs become a little constant.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a broken tone of voice, tilting his head for a moment. You just nod in silence. “When did… you know?”

“This morning. I'm two months now… Are you… happy?”

“Of course I am, princesa”. Lively laughing, he urges you to stand up to do the same and push you into a tight hug between his arms.

Of course, it wasn't something you two planned. And of course, it wasn't something you two were expecting. But you have never felt this blissfulness in your life. You're in a rollercoaster of emotions right now, just like your boyfriend who doesn't know what to say, nor what to do more than to spread a bunch of kisses all around your face trying to transmit you every single thing he is feeling right now.

Since Laura left him, Antonio thought he would never be loved with so much intensity, and then, you clapped eyes on each other. You know him ever since practically, but that time was different. You had a rare day in the hospital and he had closed a two-months investigation satisfactory. But you were tired like never before, feeling vulnerable and with a mix of emotions roaming your bodies. You came to the District looking for your father, but he was gone to celebrate already, so he offered himself to drive you home. And it just simply happened.

One year after, you're expecting your first baby. And probably not the last.

“Making friends?”

The well known tone of voice of your father interrupts your moment. Your bodies are frozen against the other, putting distance between both slowly. Gulping and turning toward the sergeant, you watch him waving a hand waiting for an answer. The tip of his tongue licks his teeth, arching an eyebrow as his face hardens. You aren't able to say anything, looking at your boyfriend who seems more terrified than you, rubbing his forehead.

“Hm…”

Your father grabs his gun from the holster on his belt, taking the safety off. You know he's just pressuring you to talk, but you block his possible target by putting ahead of Antonio. Just in case.

“Dad… Dad, list—listen”.

“I'm listening, baby girl”. He scoffs, placing his hands crossed under his abdomen.

“We… Uh…” Your heart is racing so fast that you're afraid to collapse, until you feel one of Antonio's hands hold yours, placing himself by your side. “We're together… like… a couple”.

“You're not anymore. Go home and wait for me there”.

“Da—”.

“Don't make me say it twice, (Y/N)”.

“Go. We will talk later, I promise you”. Your boyfriend's whisper doesn't make you feel convinced, but you obey in silence not being another option.

With your arms around your abdomen and your hands trembling tangled on your own uniform, you leave the District looking back every two seconds. It's not like Hank controls your life, but this is a question of honor, and you trust in Antonio. You know they need to be alone to talk some sense into him. But you also know what is going to happen.

Two long hours sitting on your sofa, desperate with your phone between both fingers waiting for a call, a text, anything. You knew it wasn't a good idea to hide it from your father, but to be honest, you didn't know that Antonio and you could go that far. The baby wasn't something planned, it just happened. You haven't even had time to react, but you still have some hope. Hank would never forbid you to continue this relationship now that you're pregnant. Though you know it's not going to be easy for him to assimilate it.

When the lights of a big SUV illuminates the street and the facade of your house, you don't lose time getting up from your seat to run to the entrance, opening the door and waiting for your father to say something as he steps out of his car. He doesn't look happy, not at all. You've lied to him all this time and you're aware of how hurt his ego is right now. It's going to cost you more than a sorry to bring back his trust in you. Licking your bottom lip in silence, you can't help but go downstairs to meet him on his path.

Hank has his hands kept in the pocket of his jeans with a rough and disappointed gesture in his face. You aren't sure what to say, being just a couple steps away from him.

“Maybe Antonio tripped and broke his nose”. He just says with feigned innocence, causing you to arch an eyebrow and cross your arms on your chest. “He's in the Chicago Med. You should go”.

Your father is about to pass you away to the inside when you stop him by a hand on his chest, pushing him back to face you.

“You're still my favorite man on earth”. You mumble bowing your head down for a second, till he holds your hand to place a kiss on the back of it.

“That's why he isn't dead, princess”.

“Isn't it because I am pregnant, and he is the father?” Not trying to contain a soft grin, you grab his other hand to lace your fingers with his and place them on your belly, knowing it's going to work.

“His grandfather is more than enough”. Hank replies squinting at you, before tilting his head to press a kiss on your forehead.

Leaving the front of your house straight to your car, he waits for you outside till you abandon your neighborhood to take the highway and reach the hospital faster. You're ashamed, you can't lie, but if your father didn't have a single scratch means that Antonio didn't hit him back, which is good. He still knows who the alpha is. You can go against the world, but not against Hank Voight. That's a fact. Everybody in Chicago knows it.

Not caring too much about how you park your car, your legs move quicker to the Emergencies being received by Will, who is trying to not laugh pressing both lips against the other. Making you a sign with a silent congratulations, your eyes travel around the open doors till finding Antonio sitting on a stretcher with his head bowed down, swinging his feet.

Knocking on the white metallic frame, you stick your head out of it with a sweet smile on the corner of your lips. “Need a ride back home, inspector?”

“May I need a nurse too”.

His brown eyes have a shine that only appears in them when he sees you after a long, long day; when he's about to be hugged by you, kissed, touched, loved. Putting down from the stretcher, you help your boyfriend to wear his jacket and zip it up over his torso.

“You okay?” Feeling your cheeks burning because of the shame, you put both hands on his neck to take a look of his nose covered with a gauze.

“He just threatened me and punched me. Honestly, I thought he would bring me to a remote place to make me dig my own grave. I think it did quite well, don't you?”

Antonio's positivism makes you laugh, nodding with your chin. Holding your arms and taking them to his mouth, he kisses both with so much care and tenderness, before tilting his head to catch your lips between his. At first, it's weird and awkward for you to be kissen for him in public, after a year hiding it. But it only lasts a short second. You can't wait to stop containing your impulses for hugging him and holding his hand and calling him amor in front of all; not in front of your dad, obviously. You're too young to die.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ⚡#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #antonio dawson #antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawson imagine

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levis-little-nuggie · 4 years ago

Note

(SFW) prompt 84: “Leave me alone.” “I brought cookies.” “… fine, come in.” with Leviathan and f!mc

Hey nonny! For this prompt, I immediately knew how to start this and I knew it was going to be "easy" for me to write it but it took me... awhile... to finally sit down and write this.

Thank you so much for the request, I hope you enjoy this at least half as much as I did writing it 💜💜

Inspired by this rolling pin

SFW, female MC, fluffy with a dash of angst, no warnings (but can be added if requested)

Cookies for the Otaku

The timer rang and she picked herself off the counter. Sliding on the oven mitts, MC opened the oven, pulled out the tray, closed the oven, and turned off the timer. The kitchen resumed its relative silence as she inspected the baked cookies. She'd made enough, she hoped, for Beel and the other brothers, but this last batch was special.

Resisting the urge to sigh again, MC waited a few minutes before removing the cookies from the pan to let them rest on the wire cooling rack. What better way to cheer up the otaku than with her signature snickerdoodle cookies imprinted with Ruri-chan and Azuki-tan designs from the limited edition "Baking With Ruri-chan Rolling Pin" she'd bought specifically to make for Ruri-chan's number one fan.

She'd overheard the brothers this morning teasing the third-born over a picture he'd posted of the two of them from Christmas he'd tagged with #ChristmasDate and #WithMyBeloved. Mammon had started the fuss showing it to everyone and soon after, the brothers had followed suit. They filled the halls with their squawking and opinions saying things like "you wish she saw you more than a friend," and comparing what they saw as their redeeming qualities with his "flaws."

Before MC even had a chance to step in, Lucifer intervened. Much to her disdain, the eldest criticized Leviathan's decision to post the picture at all, saying he'd had the intention to cause a ruckus. MC felt Leviathan's growl of frustration vibrate the air around her before he stormed back to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Distracted during her classes, MC sent Levi a few messages throughout the day, trying to reach him through a few of his social media accounts but his status was always unavailable or offline compared to the almost permanent active/online status.

Plating up the special cookies made just for him, MC set off down the hall not knowing what state he'd be in but wanting to help him any way she could. She knocked on the door, but only silence responded. Knocking a little louder resulted in the same silence. Starting to worry, MC jiggled the locked door handle and knocked louder; he would be able to at least feel the vibrations if he was in the aquarium.

"Go away." His voice was rough, not necessarily loud but it was low and threatening reminding her of a rattlesnake.

"Levi? It's me, I-"

"Leave me alone." He cut her off and she heard a splash of water followed by soft footsteps. His voice, no longer filled with venom, sounded defeated and sad.

"I brought cookies. Snickerdoodle? Said to hold magical powers that can turn any grumpy guppy into a silly sea turtle..." Silence stretched out the seconds and her hope gradually deflated until she'd heard him sigh and a rustle behind the door. The lock clicked soon after, the door opening barely a sliver.

"...fine. Come in." Usually he'd at least smile, tease her for using such childish alliterations when she'd attempted to cheer him up in the past. Levi's deadpan tone crawled under her skin uncomfortably but she reached out to open the door, pulling it closed behind her and locking it as he had done previously.

MC's eyes followed the trail of puddles decorating the floor around the room before her gaze landed on the culprit. Levi had fallen back in his bathtub bed, legs dangling over the edge as his computer's screensaver cast an unsettling glow in the room.

Walking over to his desk to set down the plate of cookies, MC moved the mouse slightly causing the screen flicker to life; she wasn't interested with what was on the screen so much as the default screensaver had been silently mocking her.

MC took a cookie from the plate and placed it in her mouth, moving to stand between his legs. She held her hand out expectantly, waiting for the third-born to take it and let her pull him up. Eventually when he reached for her hand, Levi locked his legs around hers, lifting her before pulling her down into the tub with him. The cookie had fallen during the movement as she had yelped in surprise, and landed on his chest.

Arranging themselves to be comfortable, MC was lying on her back and Levi had his head resting on her stomach, her fingers brushing through his wet hair with the cookie lying innocently on her abdomen. It was quiet for awhile, neither of them spoke but the atmosphere was comforting, reassuring.

Finally, MC felt his fingers ghost along her stomach to inspect the cookie. It was too dim to see the pattern but she wasn't concerned about it; he'd see the design eventually.

"You made these?" His voice was barely above a whisper so as to not disrupt the mood.

"Mhmm," an affirmative hum in response, fingers still sifting through his hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. Levi hugged her a little tighter before lifting himself up, cookie in his mouth like she had done earlier, and held his head right above hers, the cookie gently pressed against her lips. Levi couldn't meet her gaze and she swore she could feel the heat radiating from his face, but she raised her head to take a bite from the offered sweet.

Crumbles rained down onto her face and she laughed, bringing up a hand to swipe them away causing Levi to shove the rest of the cookie into his mouth not knowing what else to do with it and not wanting to drop any more crumbs on her.

"It was supposed to be romantic, I'm sorry I messed it up," she could hear the pout in his voice. Looping her arms around his shoulders, MC pulled herself up to kiss him on the cheek, his skin warm against her lips.

"Romance is for boomers and normies. You're adorable and literally perfect the way you are." Levi groaned and leaned forward, burying his face against her neck, his chest rumbling as he tried not to whine.

The two of them shifted their positions again with practiced ease learned from maneuvering around in his narrow bathtub bed. Her ear against his chest listening to the rhythm of his heart beat and his arm resting gently on her upper back. She could feel his hand ghosting over her arm, still showing his shy, hesitant nature.

"Do you want to talk about it? This morning I mean." She felt him tense up and moved her hand from under her chin to splay her fingers gently on his chest to which he flinched from the contact. "We don't have to if you don't want to, I just want to make sure you're okay. You weren't online all day." Her voice got quieter the longer she spoke until the last sentence was mumbled.

"Eh? I bet you jumped around all my accounts to see if I'd been active." MC shrunk down trying to make herself smaller and he let out a laugh. "You did? Oh you totally did! Let me guess, DevilTube, Devilgram, Devilbook, Devcord, don't tell me you also checked Devtrest? Man I haven't been on that one in ages!!" Levi continued laughing and MC playfully smacked her hand on his chest with a scoff, her face burning as he teased her.

"And you even made me cookies too?" Levi sighed and wrapped his arms around her in a hug, squeezing her for a few seconds before pulling away. A hand lingered on her shoulder made her heart swoon. "I just," he started before stopping short, trying to collect and organize his thoughts and she waited patiently as he knew she would.

"You're so patient with me, I'm, I should be able to show you off to my brothers, to the world like you deserve. I should be confident enough to announce that we're, y-you know, t...to..., GAH! I can't even say it! I'm sorry MC, that I'm so use-"

"I don't think so," MC snapped back and pushed herself up to straddle him, smooshing his cheeks together to make fish lips, effectively cutting him off. "Do you remember what we talked about?" Levi looked away and huffed an exhale through his nose. "About being nice to ourselves?" MC still had a hold on his face squishing his cheeks together so he wasn't able to vocally respond but he huffed again before nodding slowly. She released his cheeks and patted his head, watching him expectantly. It was a battle they had frequently, waiting for the other to break first, but he always caved.

"Fine, fine, I give in, you win." As part of their agreement, whenever they caught each other saying something negative or self-depreciating, the one that was caught has to then say a compliment about themselves. "Ah, I'm Ruri-chan's number one fan!" Levi laughed and MC playfully huffed in response before standing and leaving the bathtub bed.

Levi peeked his head over the rim of the tub, worried he'd actually upset her, his eyes following as she walked to his desk and spotted the plate of cookies. He smacked his lips relishing in the sweet aftertaste and his stomach growled signaling it hadn't had a morsel of food all day. Pulling himself out of the tub, Levi padded over next to her and sat down in his chair.

Waiting until he got comfortable, MC sat down in his lap, facing him, and wrapped her arms around his torso, nuzzling her face against his sternum. Levi rested his chin on the top of her head and opened up his social media accounts to catch up on notifications and news, forgetting about his hunger. Hearing his stomach rumble, MC reached over for another cookie, holding it so the glow from the computer highlighted the imprinted design on top.

"If your her number one fan, then that makes me an enabler." Confused by her words, Levi looks down at the cookie in her hand and squealed, cupping her hand holding the baked good gently like it was a precious delicacy.

"MC," he whined. "Is this from the Limited Edition Baking With Ruri-chan Rolling Pin featuring Ruri-chan and Azuki-tan in their aprons and chef hats?" The designs smiling back up at him confirmed his suspicion. "But, we went to all the stores, all the lottery tickets, how were you lucky enough to get one?" She tittered knowing he was impressed and her surprise a success.

"Someone bought one by accident not realizing the design was themed. They wanted the original Ruri-chan design and returned the limited edition one."

"What?!? That's, how does that even happen?" Levi exclaimed, confounded by the happenstance.

"The store clerk was confused too, they could have made bank if they would have sold it instead but nope; they made an even exchange. The clerk remembered how desperate we were to get one and held on to it in case we were to stop by again. Mammon and I were window shopping when the clerk flagged me down. He said by doing us this favor, he hopes we'll seek him out first for future rare merch drops."

Levi was quiet for a moment, considering the design imprinted on the homemade baked good. His free hand lifted, running his fingers along her neck, urging her to pull back and she followed suit, her eyes blinking wide up at the otaku. Levi's hand held her head steady, his finger under her chin, blinking slowly and a soft smile parting his lips.

"I change my answer, I'm your number one fan." Her heart skipped a beat as he pressed his lips softly against hers and she melted. Their flushed cheeks mirrored each other and as she found herself dazed, he realized what he'd done and his face burned hotter. Looking everywhere else, Levi's attention was brought back to the cookie and he quickly took a bite as a distraction. Actually tasting and enjoying the sweet, he let out a delighted hum while he chewed and MC laughed in response, grabbing another cookie for herself to eat.

"You know," he spoke up after finishing his cookie, "I'm a pretty big fan of these cookies too."

"You're not gonna kiss the cookie too, right? Cause that'd be weird." MC snorted with laughter and Levi sputtered before following her in laughter feeling the weight of the day, of the morning, finally drift away.

#obey me #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me shall we date #om leviathan #om swd #om levi #obey me lucifer #om lucifer #obey me sfw #obey me levi x mc #om levi x mc #obey me female mc #obey me f!mc #obey me levi fluff #om levi fluff #obey me levi angst #om levi angst #double check tags

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lucientelrunya · 3 years ago

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Like a lonely house pt 2

Chaotic me deciced to switch back to present tense (already edited part one) and I'm still quite clueless how to tag. But it gave me so much joy to see people enjoy my little idea.

Please feel free to point out any mistakes you spot, I'm always trying to improve my writing and stop myself from agonizing over every sentence and constantly rewrite everything...

I think Zhang Rishan might be a tad bit dramatic in this part, but I hope you enjoy this anyway :)

The blackness and cotton in his head only slowly recede, permeated by the sound of muffled voices Zhang Rishan knows. The voices carry an urgency, an impalpable sense of importance that drags him back to consciousness with a sudden harshness. Still it takes more effort than it should to blink his eyes open and for a moment he is confused why there is a stone ceiling above him and why little white flakes are clinging to his lashes. He rubs at his eyes, his movement sluggish and his arm feels heavy, a dull ache that causes the memories to come rushing back. The strange tomb, the force controlling him, the ritual, the pool - Ba Ye. It’s not a dream - nightmare? - or at least not all of it and he sits up way too quickly for his body to adjust. Thankfully someone grabs his shoulders - again - to keep him upright.

It takes Zhang Rishan another long moment to blink away the black spots and recognize Luo Que beside him, offering him an already open bottle of water, which is considerate and much appreciated. He really needs to drink something, at least to get the taste of copper and something he can’t even begin to describe out of his mouth. The strange pale liquid has dried all over his skin and clothes like some sort of clay, cracking and peeling off in flakes and powdery dust when he moves. He opts to ignore it for now, content with getting it off his lips and out of his eyes.

Luo Que doesn’t say anything and patiently waits for him to gulp down most of the bottle before he sits back again, letting go of Zhang Rishan’s shoulders and looking at him with a barely there question in his eyes. And, yeah, Zhang Rishan would like to know what’s going on here himself, thank you very much. With his vision mostly free of black spots and blurring edges he dares to look around him, having already spotted Zhang Qiling’s black clad legs next to him from the corner of his eye. He is lying on a sleeping bag right next to him, with Huo Daofu examining him quietly and unhurriedly.

And Zhang Rishan’s brain is still mushy enough to take a long moment to truly comprehend what he is looking at when he finds the source of the voices. Liu Sang and Pangzi arguing is not some rare occurrence (as he has learned in the last two days), although it's not really arguing and more of a friendly stage of bickering, but Liu Sang and Wang Pangzi arguing with Ba Ye is not normal, not in the least. So it really hasn’t been a dream or his imagination.

An illusion then, maybe? A hallucination, like the meteorite inside the tomb and Er Ye getting back his dead wife? Maybe he is still in the pool and all of this is just a hallucination? But back then the whole fake world had frozen once Ba Ye had started to doubt and Zhang Rishan is absolutely doubting the possibility of this being real. It feels too much like Er Ye’s illusion of getting Yatou back and Zhang Rishan has lived long enough to know that there is no way to truly bring a dead person back to life.

No one freezes and no one vanishes, not even when he puts his hand on his arm to push a thumb into the wound beneath the bandages and elicits a spark of pain that is absolutely and undeniably real. It quickly vanishes again, his body cataloguing it under ‘inconvenient but not life threatening’ and opting to ignore it like he had been trained. But it leaves Zhang Rishan fairly confident in his assumption that this is not an illusion.

He must have been staring, lost in his contemplation of what is real and what isn’t, because suddenly Ba Ye is turning towards him, a look of relief flashing over his face. “Lieutenant! You are awake! Please, please tell these people who I am!” He sounds worried but also a little irritated and whiny, and so much like the Ba Ye Zhang Rishan remembers. For a moment he allows himself to just watch Ba Ye come over and squat down in front of him. He had obviously tried to wipe his glasses off on his equally stained scarf resulting in smudged pale lines all over his glasses and his face.

And he has to fight the urge to reach out and touch, to convince himself that Ba Ye is real, because he has been dead and gone for almost 80 years. Even if they never found his body, even if he had been hidden somewhere by Qiu De Kao for whatever reason there is just no way for him to be alive right now, alive and the same, he is no Zhang, he has no qilin blood.

Wu Xie kneeling down beside him, half on Zhang Qiling’s sleeping bag, breaks the moment. “You know him” and although it’s not a question Zhang Rishan nods. He glances at Wu Xie, who looks worried but also curious and intrigued, always drawn to mysteries. Pangzi and Liu Sang come over, too, placing themselves behind Ba Ye like they are prepared to grab and restrain him if he tries anything, but they look at Zhang Rishan. With at least 5 pairs of expectant eyes on him, probably six, he has to squish the feeling of vulnerability and helplessness that wants to crawl out and drape itself all over him. Instead he consciously straightens his back, squares his shoulders and shifts to sit cross-legged.

He has no idea what’s going on here, no idea how to tell Ba Ye where or rather when he is now (because right now he can’t fight the acceptance that this is a living, breathing Ba Ye who just hasn’t aged a day) or what happened in the pool or if everything did really happen like he thinks. If that being had been there, in the pool and had granted him a wish he hadn’t ever put into words, had made a fleeting thought into a new reality. Each of them is looking at him like he has all the answers and he hates that he is sitting here on the floor of a dimly lit cave, on a sleeping bag someone else has rolled out for him, with bandages around his arms and feeling so utterly helpless. He can’t suppress the bitter thought that Fo Ye would have known what to do.

Taking a deep breath he decides to start with what he is sure of, which is the answer to Wu Xie’s “You know him”. “I do know this man, his name is Qi Tiezui, also known as Ba Ye”, and the name and the title should mean something to at least Wu Xie and maybe Huo Daofu, even if they obviously don’t recognize him from old photos. Maybe because they never paid attention to those pictures, which are faded and grainy compared to what even the simplest smartphone camera is able to capture nowadays or maybe because Ba Ye looks like he took a mud bath. Maybe both.

On to the second thing he is quite certain of: “As to what happened, I’m not really sure myself. As soon as I entered the tomb some force took over my body and I suppose Zhang Qiling's as well and we came to this cave to enact some kind of blood sacrifice ritual for whatever deity they are worshipping here.” No need to point out he had been meant to be the sacrifice, that bit is quite obvious, although he is not sure why Zhang Qiling is the one still unconscious then. “There was chanting, but I wasn’t able to understand it”, he adds, which makes Liu Sang nod at him. “Yeah, I heard you through the wall, but wasn’t able to identify the words either.”

Zhang Rishan considers asking why they hadn’t followed them into the cave and tried to stop the whole thing, if only to give him a little more time to try and find words for what happened after that, but he doesn’t have to voice his question. “Yeah, almost broke my damn nose trying to follow you two through that convenient little magic wall that suddenly turned into a real wall after you two went through, and we couldn’t find a mechanism or another entry or hear anything. Imagine our immense joy at hearing this idiot here say there’s ‘eerie chanting’!” Pangzi grumbles and there is no need for him to add that the use of some explosives had been on the table. Or had they used explosives?

“Did you blow a hole into the wall?” Zhang Rishan asks, eyeing a pile of broken stone in the vicinity of the wall, but Pangzi shakes his head. “Nah, I wanted to, but then the ground started to shake and - poof - the entrance was back and actually visible.” It takes Zhang Rishan another moment to realize the rubble is what’s left of the statue he had only glimpsed upon entering the cave. Had the earthquake destroyed it? Had it even been an earthquake?

Wu Xie humms beside him, following his line of sight for a moment before he points to the wall behind the rubble. “There are some murals depicting locals worshipping a deity that I have never seen before. But it seems to be for protection against droughts or bad harvests, your garden-variety-harvest-god to ensure plenty of food and the likes. Nothing that can bring dead people back to life.” Ah, right back to the burning question.

Ba Ye sputters quite helplessly at that. “Dead? What do you mean dead? Do I look dead to you? Lieutenant, what is going on here, who are these people?” Considering that Ba Ye’s face is still mostly covered in white it wouldn’t be that unreasonable to mistake him for a ghost. But beneath that he doesn’t look dead or like a walking corpse, he looks just like Zhang Rishan remembers him, just like the last time he had seen him before he had vanished. And he still has no idea how to tell Ba Ye that everyone he knows is dead. Well, everyone except Zhang Rishan.

“I’m Wu Xie, this is Wang Pangzi, Liu Sang, Luo Que and behind me are Huo Daofu and Zhang Qiling.” Wu Xie blindly pats Zhang Qiling’s lower leg when he says his name, his eyes never leaving Ba Ye’s face, gauging his reaction to two familiar family names. And Ba Ye doesn’t disappoint, confusion clearly written all over his face. He is mouthing ‘Wu’ and ‘Huo’ while his eyes scan Wu Xie’s face before he looks at Zhang Rishan with a mixture of confusion, incomprehension and helplessness.

“He is Wu Laogou’s grandson”, Zhang Rishan says softly, because their relation is the most obvious to emphasize how much time has passed and the most obvious in terms of resemblance, Ba Ye must have seen that. And Zhang Rishan holds his gaze until Ba Ye looks down, takes a deep breath, closes his mouth and lets himself plop back down to sit on the ground, his whole body curling inwards. This would be a lot to take in for everybody and Zhang Rishan would like to give Ba Ye a moment to compose himself without everyone else staring at him. There are things he hasn’t told them yet, but he is still not sure how to put any of that into words.

“Did the murals say anything about something being confined here?” Zhang Rishan asks Wu Xie, who just looks puzzled. “Confined? What do you mean?” And he really has to try and put it into words, there is no way around it, is there? He takes another deep breath through his nose. “For the ceremony I was kneeling in that pool and when the tremors started I fell into whatever liquid is in there, and it was like - like there was something in there with me. Like it was a living thing with a consciousness and whatever we did in that ceremony it set that thing free.” He can already feel some doubtful looks but nobody starts to interrupt him and Wu Xie actually nods thoughtfully like he can imagine that, so he continues: “It was communicating with me, not with words, more like with feelings and impressions,” and he just waits for Huo Daofu to interrupt him, to say something about blood loss and hallucinations, but he doesn’t, he just doesn’t - “It made very clear that it had been imprisoned here for whatever purpose and that it was just so very thankful that I set it free.”

Everyone is quiet, mulling over those words. There are still so many questions, like who or what had controlled them to enact this ceremony? Had it been the imprisoned being? Or something else? But why? And who had sealed the tomb? And why?

“So you set some ancient being free and someone from your past turns up. What if he is no human but that being in the shape of someone it saw while it was inside your mind?” Liu Sang questions, looking at Ba Ye thoughtfully who stops his calculations to stare back incredulously. “What? First I’m dead, now I’m some preternatural being? Let me tell you, I’m just a fortune teller!” He acts and sounds just like Ba Ye, but Liu Sang has a point, that being had looked into his mind, had probably had access to all his thoughts and memories. It makes his head hurt even thinking about it.

Pangzi and Liu Sang start bickering about how to test that theory, to find out if someone is human and it only gets more chaotic when Zhang Qiling wakes up and Wu Xie starts worrying over him, asking him how he feels and if he is alright while Huo Daofu tries to rule out a concussion. Zhang Rishan tries to ignore them for the moment, even though he would like to get Zhang Qiling’s version of the ceremony. He feels torn between the possible explanations for this situation, but why would some ancient being that had been trapped in a cave for centuries if not millenia take human form and stay with them? To play tricks on him? Or maybe-

“Lieutenant, if so much time has passed that the grandson of Wu Laogu is at least as old as I am, how come you haven’t aged a day?” Ba Ye’s question jolts him out of these thoughts. “It’s a Zhang-family-thing”, he answers, because Ba Ye already knows so much about their family that it should be enough. Ba Ye nods, visibly brightening at the answer, as if he had hoped for something along those lines. “So, why don’t we just ask Fo Ye for help to prove I’m just a normal human? I mean, if that being was in your head and knows what you know it doesn’t know everything about me.”

Of course he would think of Fo Ye as the answer to everything and of course Zhang Rishan has to say it now. He shakes his head slightly and forces himself to watch Ba Ye’s face and catalogue his reaction. “No. Fo Ye is not with us anymore.” It’s cruel, so cruel to tell him like this and Zhang Rishan hates it even more than he hates saying the words at all. Ba Ye’s whole face crumples but he visibly tries to hide his distress. “How on earth am I supposed to prove I’m just a normal human, then?” he bristles, obviously trying to distract himself with anger. “Tell me! What should I do!” Those last words are directed towards Pangzi and Liu Sang behind him who actually stop their bickering and have the grace to look embarrassed.

“Why would that being even want to stay here? What could be in it for... it?” Pangzi voices Zhang Rishan’s thoughts from before. “Maybe it needs help to leave the cave?” Wu Xie suggests, joining the conversation again after assuring himself that Zhang Qiling is fine aside from a cut on his forehead. “Or maybe it’s just lonely and looking for some company?” Huo Daofu throws in and Zhang Rishan isn’t sure if it’s meant to be a joke or a real suggestion. But if they are just casually throwing around theories he can add one, too.

“Maybe it’s an illusion.” Even if there is no meteorite around and even if he had set that theory aside before. Ba Ye inhales sharply at that suggestion and slaps Zhang Rishan’s knee a little harder than necessary. “Aiya! An Illusion? Does that feel like an illusion? Is there a meteorite around that you haven’t told me about? Shouldn’t you be able to tell the difference?” Ba Ye slaps him again and Zhang Rishan just lets him, flinching only a little. It makes Luo Que beside him tense noticeably, like he contemplates grabbing Ba Ye’s arm and stopping him from hitting his boss, but in the end he doesn’t move and just watches.

“Should I? I mean you were the one who realized it was an illusion back then, and you guided us out of it.” Ba Ye harrumphs at that, knitting his brows. “It’s not an illusion”, Wu Xie says and the certainty in his voice makes it easy to just accept it. After all Wu Xie had come with him and should be a real person, even if they stepped into some fake world at some point, just like Fo Ye, Ba Ye, Er Ye and Chen Pi had been real people who stepped into the meteorite.

“Thank you!” Ba Ye says, giving Wu Xie a small bow. “And if you let me, I can show you that I am perfectly capable of leaving this place all on my own.” Which leaves them with: a lonely godly being looking for company (or a bored godly being looking for some fun?) or the possibility that it is really Ba Ye.

For a moment everyone is quiet again and Zhang Rishan takes the chance to ask Zhang Qiling how he had experienced being possessed or remote controlled or whatever it had been. His answer is disappointingly simple and his experience almost the same as Zhang Rishan’s, except that he had not been in contact with another consciousness but had been knocked out really hard by something as soon as the cave had started to shake. Which confirms Zhang Rishan’s suspicion that there had been something with him in the pool.

He gets up, startling both Ba Ye and Luo Que with the sudden movement, making them stand up with him as if they are preparing to catch him again. It’s endearing and disconcerting at the same time and he opts to ignore the way it makes him feel for the moment, but tucks the feeling away to pick it apart later.

The pool is surprisingly dry and empty, but covered in the same white flaky residue both Zhang Rishan and Ba Ye are covered in, which is reassuring because it means there had been something before. For a moment Zhang Rishan just stares at the empty pool, trying and failing to find a hole or a crack in the stone through which the liquid could have vanished. Surely it did not just evaporate into thin air? His memory is not clear enough to dispel the thought that maybe the liquid had not vanished but changed its shape and made itself into a human being.

“Huh? Why is it empty?” Pangzi asks which makes Zhang Rishan release a breath he hadn’t even been aware of holding. “It wasn’t empty when you could get in?” he reassures himself, looking at the other man. “Hah! Wish it had been, do you have any idea how hard it was to get you out of that stuff?” Pangzi snorts and points at the smudged edge of the pool, where a very visible track of white covers the ground all the way over to their sleeping bags. It also makes Zhang Rishan notice the white smudges all over Pangzis clothes only to find the man grinning at him when he looks up again. The corners of his mouth twitch involuntarily in quiet amusement and he nods his thanks, which makes Pangzi grin even more.

With the pool providing no answers at all Zhang Rishan walks over to the wall to look at the murals, soon joined by Wu Xie who points to the parts of the murals he had mentioned before. It shows a group of people in clothing Zhang Rishan has never seen building this tomb. Maybe some minority? They have no idea how old this tomb is, after all or how long it had been sealed. In the next part of the mural it almost looks like they are summoning the unknown god and not merely worshipping and some part of Zhang Rishan’s mind resonates with that thought. The ceremony looks just like what the two of them had enacted, one person in the pool and the other at the altar with a dagger. But it almost seems like the sacrifice on the mural dissolves into the pool, a thought he really doesn’t want to dwell on.

After that the mural gets quite confusing, depicting the statue that is broken now and people celebrating rich harvests, without any clear connection. He looks back at the picture of the god, tracing the faded lines with his fingers trying to recall everything the being in the pool had tried to tell him through thoughts and feelings and suddenly he understands. Or at least he thinks he does.

“They didn’t worship the god, they captured it and confined it in here because as long as it was here everything around it would be thriving, rich harvests, no sicknesses, people living long and full lives.” As soon as he says it he knows it’s true and he finds Wu Xie nodding next to him. “So, you set that god free and as a gesture of thanks it returned a dead person from your past?” And Zhang Rishan knows dead people don’t come back to life, but this is a god they are talking about and it had made everything else grow, had kept people healthy and strong. Maybe it could do this too?

“I’m still not dead and I was never dead!” Ba Ye protests from beside him and reminds Zhang Rishan that he still doesn’t know what happened when Ba Ye vanished back then, how or when he died. He looks at him and contemplates asking just that but somehow he is afraid of the answer. “Maybe you died and you just forgot.” Pangzi says, pushing at one of the larger rocks left over from the statue with his foot.

“How would someone forget his own death, this is ridiculous! An hour ago I was just in my room, enjoying a nice cup of tea and suddenly I find myself in this cave, almost drowning in that pool!” Ba Ye gestures wildly and angrily with his arm, almost slapping Zhang Rishan in the face in the process, but Pangzi is unimpressed. “How could you not forget your death? Or the fact that you died. Maybe you just dropped dead drinking your tea, things like that happen. Who knows.”

“He didn’t drop dead, he vanished without a trace, leaving everything behind”, Zhang Rishan interjects. If Ba Ye had just dropped dead there would have been a funeral and it would have been just as sad and hard, but there wouldn’t have been a mystery, no reason to wish to know what happened.

“Well, maybe he did drop dead and that god plucked his body from the past, brought him back to life and put him here”, Wu Xie shrugs, “I mean, my terminal lung cancer got healed by magic golden coffin water in thunder city, so it’s not that far-fetched.”

And - oh, oh - realisation hits him like a punch to the sternum, taking his breath away, almost making him double over and sink to his knees. It had been him. Ba Ye never just vanished, had never been kidnapped by the Japanese or Qiu De Kao. He had never died, he had been snatched away by this being - god - whatever - and placed here and now, with Zhang Rishan, because it had wanted to give him something he had lost. But Ba Ye had never been lost, he had been stolen, stolen because Zhang Rishan is selfish and thoughtless and cruel and - He has done this. He has done this to Ba Ye. And to Fo Ye. And -

He can’t breathe. How can he ever say this? How can he ever tell Ba Ye? He can never be forgiven for this, there is no way, absolutely no way. Look out for Ba Ye, that had been his order, the one most important to Fo Ye and thus the most important to Zhang Rishan. And he had failed, miserably - no, he had done the opposite! And for the first time in quite a while he wishes Fo Ye was the one with a long life and not him. Fo Ye would never have done something so stupid.

Unbidden he remembers the illusion he had fallen victim to below the Chen tree, Fo Ye with his gun pointed at him, disappointed, so disappointed and he wishes it had been real, that he had died that day so he would have never been able to come here today. But Ba Ye had been missing before, he had vanished before Zhang Rishan had ever been to this tomb and shared his memories with a god. There would have been no reason to wish to know what happened that day if nothing had happened. And that really makes his head hurt, how is it even possible? How does this work, today and the past linked like this? Like it had always been meant to be this way?

#I wrote this instead of sleeping #dmbj fic #mystic nine #zhang rishan #qi tiezui #fuba #wibbly wobbly timey wimey #ba ye

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httpsgfg · 4 years ago

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happy 9 months to this bad bitch!!

it's sappy o'clock look away

yeah yeah another one of these

look, i won’t drone on about how shit this year has been we’re all well aware and past that. what i want to focus on is the joy and refuge that i have found here thanks to this album. i don’t think i have ever been this surprised and taken aback by an album before? in the best way possible. i was a casual listener at best, a local if you will. i knew the Hits i just never felt the urge to dive in...but that all changed as soon as i heard red desert. genuine and utter shock? no words to describe it really. i went down the youtube rabbit hole and well i’m a wholeass clown now. i don’t really contribute anything as i can’t edit, i don’t write, i never planned on immersing myself in the fandom per se. i thought i’d just come here to reblog pretty moving pictures and talk to myself in the tags, i had no idea i’d meet such kind and wonderful people and actually make friends? i’ve been in and out of So Many fandoms and never really found that sense of belonging to a community like i have here.

everyone i have come across has been so caring and kind and friendly. i appreciate the effort and love you put into each gifset and edit, every chapter written, memes and all. moreover, i have watched you all support each other through this difficult year and all the shitty hands we’ve been dealt and i couldn’t be more proud of each and every single one of you. simply for being here. know that my inbox is anon friendly and always open. keep on keeping on, i love you!! @karajaynetoday @kindahoping4forever @ashtcnirwin @blackbutterfliescal @cakelftv @mukeaf @mikeycliffords @bandsanitizer @calmfolklore @notinthesameguey @twilightmomentswithyou @ghost-of-you @ashesonthefloor @devilatmydoor @tekweela @ashtonsunshine @afterlows @sexgodashton and a few more words to those of you who made the effort to talk to me bc god forbid i do something first @clumsyclifford bella!! you were the first one to reach out and welcome me here and i will never forget that. thank you for bringing nothing but positive vibes on the dash, and thank you for creating the club and extending me an invitation that i’m still too much of a wuss to accept. discord and group chats can be overwhelming and i’d just end up lurking but i appreciate it sm♥ @rebelwith0utacause ana, my yugosos partner in crime!! where do i even begin? knowing there’s someone else from around here has made me feel right at home; thank you for the laughs, your cool older sis vibes, and everything else in between!! i am proud of you for kicking rona’s ass, working so hard, and being such a good pup mom and carer for mocha ♥живе биле велике порасле, ве сакам♥ @compulsiveidiota gigi my love. thank you. i enjoy our music talks immensely, not to mention yelling at each other during random michael/luke/muke photos spam sessions. please keep them coming. keep on bowling, barking, biting mean people, and being awesome♥

@wheniminouterspace shal. my fav crying-to-mitski pal. i hope you’re catching some zzzs rn and i can’t wait to see you wake up to new luke content!!!!!! also wayf supremacy!! had to put that out there. thank you for our always chaotic chats i enjoy them endlessly. i love youuu♥

@redrattlers em!!! i am still so amazed at how much our music/tv show/movie tastes match i could cry. the shared brain cell is strong in this one. i just know we would be the best of friends if only we knew each other irl too thank you for helping me spread the nbt agenda here. for sharing such good music with me. for listening to my playlists? just for being rad as hell. i love your edits, i love your energy, i love having you as a firend, i love you♥

@lifewasradical amanda!! i am so incredibly proud of you and everything that you have accomplished this year!! congrats once again on getting your masters in the middle of this mess. balancing school and work and just life in general and still finding time to come here and be your lovely self, i appreciate it a lot. all my love to you and endi♥

@himbocalum hi nat!! i remember we started talking thanks to a music ask thingy and me just calling you nat right away as if we’ve known each other forever bc it felt too formal to use your full name shfjlsd. it is always a pleasure to see you on my dash sending plenty of calum content my way. still blows my mind you sat down and listened to a wholeass album bc i wouldn’t stop talking about it. and then checked out the other albums too. and indulged me and let me talk your ear off about them. thank you, i love you and i still chuckle every time i see your url. iconic♥

@kaleidoscopeminds meg. meg meg meg. i remember saying i’d name my firstborn after you/your url and i stand by that. you having a blog with this gorgeous lover of mine line is quite fitting. thank you for the constant supply of quality content be that relatable text posts, stunning gifsets, dead on moodboards.......[i am still not over the one you made for me tyvm] just thank you. for being you. please don’t hog all the talent. i love you♥

@calumsthood san. i am so sorry you had to scroll past all of that^ but i wanted to end this with you. CEO of squish content. i can’t tell you how much i enjoy seeing you lose your marbles over chaotic aussies. even the one i only know about thanks to you. please stop calling your crispee hq gifs/edits garbage. i am no longer asking. thank you for blessing us with on the record footage that you got from music dot apple dot com. for letting me drag you back into nbt. bless you. keep sharing photos of your adorable dog!!!!! i love you that is all♥

#if anyone is in touch with jbhmalum em please send my love!!!!!!#the way this was supposed to go out way earlier but mr hemmings DERAILED me sorry #pretend this was posted on the 27th ok #yes i'm the plague rat who brought the broke!sos thing on here and somehow stuck around #honestly if we have Ever interacted in any way i love you i have so much love for all of you #you made this year so much better and i have rambled on for far too long now bye #x #it's emo hours #this was so hard i suck at expressing my feelings i will just. yell at you in the tags and send you cursed memes #NOT TUMBLR DOT COM CRASHING AS I WAS ABOUT TO POST THIS WHY DO YOU HATE ME #never doing this again bye

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rina-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Read This

Summary: You, a long term friend of the twins, notice that Ethan has been acting strange. After beating around the bush for a couple months, Grayson breaks down and tells you what’s going on. You decide to show Ethan something that you never intended for him to read...

A/N: When I started this side blog, I wanted to make it such that it would only feature my writing of who I am obsessed with at the time. I really wanted to comment Ethan’s battle with acne, but didn’t want to take away from the purpose of this blog. So, I put it in this short fic. I hope you all enjoy!

You could see the concern in Grayson’s face as you trudged toward Ethan’s room, your long cardigan flowing majestically behind you with the quick movement. Grayson lurched forward to grab your wrist and you looked at him with a frown.

“I don’t think you understand the state that E is in right now.” Grayson said, looking at the ground instead of meeting your eyes. “I know you’re a fan of tough love, but I don’t think this is the greatest time for it.”

“Grayson, I’m not an asshole.” You said, pulling your arm away from him. “I’m not here to kick him when he’s down...I just want him to see something that I wish I had seen in my most insecure moments.”

Grayson seemed hesitant. You couldn’t blame him. The three of you were usually goofballs, pranking each other and roasting each other whenever you got the chance. It was weird for you to see Grayson so serious and using an inside voice. It was weirder not seeing Ethan at his side. It felt like the world was topsy turvy enough with everything going on, to see your friend group shattered as well pushed you to want to do something about it.

“I’m giving you 10 minutes.” Grayson said after some thought with a sigh. “But, leave the door open.”

“Okay, mom!” You punched his arm, playfully.

Grayson wagged a finger at you putting on his best scolding face before laughing softly. He gestured for you to go up the stairs and you nodded, turning from him.

The walk to Ethan’s room felt longer than usual. You realized it was because you were a bit nervous and it caused you to drag your feet. You took a deep breath and added some pep in your step. This wasn’t the big bad wolf, this was one of your closest friends. If you went in with that mindset, this whole thing was for naught.

As you got closer to Ethan’s room, surprised to see the door already open. You knocked on the door gently as you walked in. You frowned seeing Ethan laying in bed, his head pressed against a pillow with his eyes glued to his phone. He looked paler than you’ve ever seen him and his hazel eyes glossed over as though he was in his own dream world.

“Hey, it’s me.” You said, walking toward him. You tried to put a bit of normalcy in your voice. You hoped he didn’t hearing it quiver.

“Hey...” Ethan said, not enthusiasm in his voice. He didn’t really move. His head was still pressed to the pillow, but he used his feet to clear a space on the bed for you to sit.

“Oh wow the royal treatment.” You grinned. You walked over to him and he turned away slightly.

“Uh, I should let you know, my face is kind of a mess right now.” Ethan said, his words muffled slightly.

You sat on the edge of his bed and looked at him. You could barely see his face, but from what you could see, it didn’t look that bad. If he didn’t bring it up, you probably wouldn’t have noticed.

“Ethan, you’re talking to me.” You pointed at yourself. “If I didn’t apologize for literally every hair disaster I had in the last four years, you shouldn’t apologize for this.”

“They weren’t THAT bad...” Ethan said, finally locking his phone, but still avoiding your eyes.

“Your mom and the other hair stylists staged an intervention because of my last dye job.” You leaned forward and narrowed your eyes. “They emptied the store and had chairs in a circle like freaking Alcoholics Anonymous.”

Ethan laughed softly, a sound you realized that you had missed from the moment you entered the room.

“The chairs were such a nice touch.” Ethan joked doing the ‘chef’s kiss’ motion with his hands. “I wish I could take credit for it, but pretty sure it was someone at the salon.”

“My point is...” You said, moving right along as you resisted the urge to touch your hair now just to check if it was okay. You smiled, “...we’re friends, Ethan. We don’t have to apologize for things like this...”

Ethan went silent. You gulped worried that you went too far already. Now you understood why Grayson was acting they way he was downstairs. You wondered how many times they argued and how many times they shut each other out over the past couple of months. With them, there were two kinds of fighting. There was the fighting when they were both yelling and pushing each other. That was the norm. But, then there was the fighting where they both spoke in the quietest of voices. Where they didn’t make eye contact and only said a few words, usually sandwiched with swears. These were the arguments that worried you most because it usually meant one or both of them was hurting.

“I want to show you something.” You said, pulling out your phone from the front pocket of your jean shorts.

For the first time since you walked in, Ethan looked at you. This also meant that this was the first time you got a good look at him. He did look bad, but not because of his skin. His eyes looked so cold. It was like he was staring through you. You’ve seen him beam at complete strangers and now, he was staring at you like you were invisible.

You controlled your reaction, not wanting him to misunderstand your surprise. You softened your face, but dared not smile. He would be able to see through a phony grin. You looked own at your phone and started to get ready to show him what you planned.

“Grayson doesn’t let me see Twitter.” He said, before glancing away. “If that’s what you’re going to do...”

“Well, thank goodness I’m showing you Tumblr then.” You said, still looking at your screen as you typed in your search.

“Here...” You handed it to him and Ethan took your phone.

“What is this?” He asked, squinting at the brightness of your screen. At the top was ‘ethan dolan’ which searched all the Ethan Dolan tags on Tumblr.

“It’s the top results for Ethan Dolan on Tumblr.” You said, resting your hands on your lap. “I looked it up a long time ago to tease you guys. As you can see there are a lot of edits and stuff, but there’s also fan fiction.”

“I’ve read this stuff.” Ethan said, handing it back to you. “Clearly, you don’t watch our videos.”

There was a hint of a smile as he teased you. With it, you saw a glimmer of the Ethan Dolan you were waiting to emerge. Baby steps.

“Trust me.” You said pushing the phone back towards him. “This is nothing like you have ever read before.”

“You don’t even know which one I’m going to read.” Ethan rolled his eyes.

“Your fans are a lot more...eh, mature in their writing now.” You blushed softly. “Trust me.”

Ethan looked annoyed, but he decided to read one of them. You watched uncomfortably as his face turned redder and redder.

“Why am I spitting on her?” In the most deadpan voice, Ethan broke the silence and asked, looking at you.

“Oh my god!” You yelled, getting embarrassed. “I don’t know! I didn’t write it.”

“Do people think I’m that mean?” Ethan asked, looking back at the phone. “That I’d choke my girlfriend because she said that she was going to go ask Grayson to take care of her. Like OKAY, you do that...”

You snickered. As if Ethan would have such a chill reaction to something like that.

“Oh come on, E.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re not innocent...you know what fetishes are and that some people like being dominated.”

“Are you saying some people because you mean yourself?” Ethan quirked a brow, looking at you with a smug expression.

He was totally messing with you! You have been upset if you weren’t completely relieved

You narrowed your eyes, not giving away you position. “Anyway...now, I want you to go to the recent tab.”

You watched Ethan’s eyes search the screen and then his thumb move to the top of the screen to click on ‘Recent.’ He scrolled down more, his face turning more red.

“Well, that’s a very graphic description of my penis.” Ethan put your phone down and crossed his arms over his pillow, looking at you with a soft smile. “Did you come here to get laid?”

“Ugh, no!” You rolled your eyes. “You’re missing the point...”

“You just had me read written porn about myself...I’m not sure anyone would get the point.” Ethan said, the smile on his lips getting wider as his eyes started to regain the playfulness you had grown to adore.

“What was the difference between the fics in the Top section and the Recent section?” You asked, trying to give him a hint.

“Oh, you’re so acquainted with them that you call them fics?” Ethan asked, leaning back. You could now see that he was shirtless, in long gray sweat shorts, his stomach and chest exposed as he laid back on his head board.

“Alright, that’s it.” You said, pretending to leave as you snatched your phone.

Ethan knew you were bluffing, but he was too nice to call you out on it. “I’m sorry,” He gave you a little pout. “Don’t go.”

“Answer the question...” You said, sitting back down and crossing your legs.

Ethan stuck his hand out to take your phone and you unlocked to hand it to him. He switched between the two tabs.

“Uh, the ones in the top are a lot dirtier, I guess?” He narrowed his eyes. “Not by much though.”

“Okay, what about the gifs and stuff?” You asked. “Still seeing thirst comments?”

Ethan chuckled. “Yeah...about the same.”

“That’s kind of my point, E.” You took your phone and stared him down so he couldn’t look away. “For your fans, you’re still so hot that they want you to choke them and make them beg for you. You’re still their soft boy that they want to spoon and pamper. You’re still their sweetheart that...in all honesty, was probably the first love for many of them. They haven’t noticed your pimples...E.”

Ethan opened his mouth to say something, but you put up a finger.

“But they don’t know how bad it is.” You said in the deep, husky voice you use to imitate him along with your signature arm flex gestures.

Ethan rolled his eyes. “They really don’t. I mean look.” He pointed to his forehead.

“I’m going to lick it.” You said, lurching forward.

“HOLY --- Don’t you dare.” Ethan said, sticking out his foot to stop you.

You laughed, loudly and eventually, Ethan did as well.

“Every time you say something like that’s I’m going to lick. Then you’ll have acne and my spit on you.” You stuck out your tongue.

“I’m going to have nightmares.” Ethan joked, smiling softly.

You slapped his thigh and grinned. “Look, I’ve been kinda where you are. With my skin, with my hair, with my weight...all of it. I kept thinking I didn’t deserve to have fun until I looked perfect. All the while, the people around me didn’t even notice. I bet you probably don’t even remember when I’m talking about...”

Ethan shook his head. He turned his head to look out the window and then realization washed over his face.

Ethan paused for a moment. “I only remember that one day where you didn’t want to go to the beach and then someone told me it was because you didn’t want to go swimsuit shopping...I didn’t really get it at the time. I was just upset because that was the first time we were going to hang out in months and it was the only time Gray and I were free.”

“That’s how I feel about this.” You smiled softly. “To me, Gray, your friends, your family, your FANS...” You pointed to your phone. “We don’t get why you don’t want to come to the beach. We don’t give two hoots how you look in the swimsuit, we just miss you.”

“I can’t say I feel 100% better.” Ethan admitted. “But, I’m feeling a little less...shitty.”

“A little less shitty. I’ll take that.” You smiled, standing up.

“I half expected to come in here and slap me across the face.” Ethan laughed softly.

“Good god, do both Dolan Twins think I’m an asshole?” You put your hands on your hips.

“Oh Tin Man, you do have a heart...” Ethan joked.

You grabbed one of his pillows and hit him with it. He grabbed another and hit you back, your laughter filling the room.

“Wanna get something to eat? Or at least go downstairs?” You asked. “You know how Gray gets when he’s left out.”

You imitated Gray hunched over and pouting looking at Ethan from the corner of your eye.

“Yeah...” Ethan smiled, getting off the bed and standing up. “Imma tell him you did that.”

“Heh, do it.” You scoffed. “I’m not afraid him...Just uh, let me start my car.”

You reached in your pocket to pull out your keys and pretended to remote start you car by pointing it at the window.

He gave you a tight hug. “Thanks, kiddo. You’re not half bad most of the time.”

“Yup.” You said, hugging him back lightly. “I’m the best, I know.”

“So be honest....” Ethan asked “...how many of those fics of me have you read?”

Your eyes widened slightly. “What? Grayson, are you calling me?!” You yelled speed walking toward the door.

“Gray! Y/N is lusting after.” Ethan yelled, following you out the door. “She’s prying on your brother in his moment of weakness.”

Grayson smiled as he heard you two thundering down. 9 mins and 35 seconds...not bad at all.

#ethan dolan #dolan twins #ethan dolan blurb #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fanfic #grayson dolan #ethan dolan scenario #dolan twins scenario #dolan twins blurb #fic-read-this #r-writes-fic

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agentwhiskeysdarlin · 5 years ago

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Taking Care of A Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin (Mando) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 613

Rating: PG

Warnings: mention of injury, tooth rotting fluff

Author’s Notes: Well here it is finally. This was technically my third rewrite and I ended up going to the drabble route and leaving out all the background info from the first time. I really wanted this to be more but oh well. Bounced the idea off @sabinemorans like I do most of my ideas. I also have to give a massive credit to @clint-aww-no-barton because she did edit this for me and did a little fixing so pretty much she is my cowriter on this thing. I am not sure why this idea kicked my ass so much. I am also not sure when more content may be coming. I am second guessing a lot of my writing and it’s actually very hard for me not to take it all down right now if I am going to be completely honest. We shall just have to see. Hope you guys enjoy.

ao3 link for story

As another frustrated groan came from the open door of the fresher, you moved your eyes from your book to glance at the source of light shining into the hallway and around the corner.

‘What in the world was he doing in there and what was all the fuss about?’ You wondered as your curiosity finally got the better of you.

Padding your way to the fresher, you paused in the doorway. Din turned to you, his face smeared with shaving cream in uneven patches, evidence of his failed attempts to shave, and gave you a pitiful look. His dominant arm was still bound in the make-shift sling you had crafted earlier.

“I can’t,” he complained miserably.

“Why in the universe didn’t you ask me for help Din?” you replied as you shook your head in disbelief.

“I didn’t want to bother you cyar’ika.”

“Bother me? I’m your wife, remember?. The least I can do is help you shave. And maybe a haircut?” You added glancing up at his unruly and long locks.

With a small smirk his shoulders relaxed as you moved forward. Grabbing a small stool you urged the large man to sit. Letting out a giggle at the sight, you earned yourself a look which only made you laugh more. Taking the shaving cream, you added more to his face to even it out before taking his razor in your hand and beginning your work. You made a mental note to buy him a new one the next time you found yourself at a market as you worked the dull edges over his face as gently as possible.

“And… done!” you gave him a smile and turned him so he could look in the small fresher mirror.

“Thank you cyar’ika and I like the mustache,” he gave your reflection a smirk and you returned a wink to him.

“Now let me give you a quick haircut,” you smiled grabbing some scissors and comb.

Quietly working to trim his hair back to the style and length he liked, you could feel his stare on you, watching as you focused intently on your work. You smiled as you glanced at the mirror catching his brown eyes on you. You soon finished and brushed him off before looking at him one again in the mirror, giving him a proud smile at your work.

“And you’re all done my love.”

“Cyar’ika thank you so much,” he spun around and pulled you to him with his good arm.

You let out a huff as you settled into his lap and he hand moved up to your cheek. He traced small circles on your skin before bringing your lips to his. The kiss was gentle and tender as you moved to straddle his lap better, your fingers spreading through his hair, rubbing at his skull.

“You keep doing that and I will fall asleep right here,” he pulled away with a chuckle.

“Then let’s move to the cot then,” you looked into his eyes seeing how much exhaustion filled them.

As you went to lay down, you found yourself being shuffled around so Din could rest his head on your chest. A change from your usual sleeping arrangements, but a welcome one. You let your fingers thread back through his hair, playing with the locks and returning to massaging his scalp. You let your lips brush his forehead and he looked up giving you a weak, sleepy smile.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum Mrs. Djarin,” he spoke his native langue but you knew what the words meant all too well.

“I love you too Din Djarin,” you smiled before placing another soft kiss to his forehead.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl @harrytags @discogrrl @arcadianempress @immundusspiritu @someplace-darker @beskars @talesfromtheguild @thisis-theway @on-the-razor-crest @fioccodineveautunnale

#the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fic #mando x reader #mando #mando fic #carey writes #fem!reader

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we-are-inevitable · 4 years ago

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modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

#if u wanna be added to my tag list just let me know !!#newsies #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javid #javey #newsies broadway #newsies musical #newsies fic #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #livesies #toursies #jac writes #jac txt.

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op-peccatori · 5 years ago

Text

Ruffled Feathers (nsfw) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Victor/Reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 5900

Summary: You’re aware that you're dating a man who doesn't lose his cool easily; it's a trait you've come to appreciate about him. However, that doesn't stop you from trying to ruffle his feathers every chance you get. What happens when your latest attempt at poking does wake the bear?

a/n: *looks at all my WIPs* ok time to write another Victor thirstfic!! I actually dreamt of the smut part and had a tough time writing everything that comes before lol. I'm gonna have to come back and edit this properly

(tags under the cut)

Tags/Warnings: explicit content and explicit dialogue, PWP, vaginal sex, oral sex (male receiving), spanking, somewhat rough and dom Victor, MC pushing buttons

Thursday

The soft pitter-patter of rain falls across the courtyard, bringing the hint of a chill with it.

You run through the hallways, cursing your lack of foresight; you didn’t think to bring an umbrella. Victor and Goldman are dropping in on the set, and you want to be the one to welcome them. After all, it's not every day that your boyfriend finds the time to come meet you. You try to calm the rapid fluttering in your stomach–you're going to leave for a work trip in the morning, and you're going to be tied up on set until late in the night. He's just trying to get a little more time with you, just as you requested.

As a set of all too familiar shoulders come into view, you fight the urge to speed up and slow to a walk instead, unable to help the widening of your smile as you meet his eyes. His severe expression softens minutely, his mouth perking up as he meets you halfway, a strange tension buzzing between you both as you waver between options, each more formal than the previous. Throwing yourself into his arms like you want to is out of the question; there's no need to add fuel to the fire. You know people are curious about the nature of your relationship, and whether or not it goes beyond professional.

You settle for beaming up at him, waving at Goldman when he pops out from behind him. "I'm glad to see you both!" You're also grateful when Goldman takes Victor's umbrella and hurries ahead, under the pretence of wanting to inform the director of their arrival himself. He leaves you both smiling at each other as you follow at a much slower pace.

"How are you?" he asks quietly. His expressions slips into something fonder as you sigh loudly.

"Tired. Hungry. Borderline homicidal," you answer honestly. "What about you?" "It was a smooth day. I brought you some food, I thought we could eat together."

Once again, you fight the urge to hug him. Instead, with a quick glance around, you reach out and take his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. His hand is warm under your touch, and you wish you could just wrap yourself around him and bask in his warmth. The way his shirt stretches over his chest doesn’t help matters in the slightest, and you wonder if he’d left the jacket behind on purpose.

"That would be lovely, Victor." You pause when you realize there's a sudden stillness in the air, one you're more than familiar with. Fingers curve around your jaw and with your heart kicking into gear, you look up in time to see him leaning in, slotting your lips together firmly. As his arm slides around your waist, affection morphs into a hot liquid that pools in your abdomen. With the rain frozen still behind you, you press up against him, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, your hands coming to rest over his chest. It's relief, it's like putting warm socks on after a shower, and you just want to sink into him. The want that has been creeping around in your body finally settles down.

A sound of a complaint leaves your lips when he pulls away, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. "Now, how about you show me around?"

After that kiss, all you really want to do is find an empty room. But it also reminds you of what you've been toying with in your head all day, so you agree with a smile only slightly dazed. Victor smiles back, unaware of the devious ideas you've been playing with, and takes a small step away. Well, it can't be helped. You won't get to be alone with Victor for another week, and chances like this one are too rare to pass up.

With a kernel of regret in your heart, you lead your oblivious boyfriend further into the building.

Monday

All chatter in the room ceases as he walks in, some of the occupants scurrying out of the room and some greeting him meekly. You watch quietly as Goldman leaves your side and hurries to his, informing him of all the meetings scheduled for the day.

You watch, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, and wait. Your patience is rewarded when he glances your way: the slightest of pauses in his stride, a twitch of his mouth, the softening of his eyes. It's taken a considerable amount of time for you to become familiar with the minute changes in his expression; it took a lot of testing, a lot of risks, and you hoard this knowledge jealously. He says something to Goldman while still looking at you before he walks through the doors to his office.

Goldman relaxes slightly and walks back over to sit at his desk. "You've got fifteen minutes. He's such a generous man, isn't he? You're a lucky girl!"

'Or he knows I didn't get enough sleep last night and need this cup.' Goldman eyes the little smile on your face suspiciously. "Actually, never mind."

"Well, actually, Goldman," you begin with a sweet smile. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

"No."

"You don't even know what it is."

"With the kind of face you're making? I don't want to know."

"Oh, c'mon! It's just a little favour. And it's for Victor too!" you cajole softly, and he slumps slightly. "I just wanted to know his schedule for Thursday."

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" he asks confusedly, adjusting his glasses nervously.

You roll your eyes. "Then it wouldn't be much of a surprise would it?"

"Hmm. And it's something he'll like?" You feel a stab of guilt at how sincere he looks, but it's not like you're planning something terrible. It's just something new, that's all.

"Oh, trust me. He'll like it," you say, unable to help the little smirk that curls along your mouth. You're not sure what Goldman interprets from that, because he looks a little nauseous.

"Right. I regret asking," he sighs. "Well, he's got a few calls and meetings scheduled in the morning, but he does have some time after 5."

"Perfect."

Thursday

And so, having ensured you have some space to yourself, you invited Victor for a short visit to the set. You're filming a fantasy show here, and tomorrow you'll be off to visit other potential shoot locations. You weren't expecting Goldman to tag along, but you figure he's more or less part of the gang now, and knows better than to interrupt your time with his boss–mostly because he would rather not know what you're doing. You've done most of your work, and with Anna stopping by, you're not exactly required to stick around to supervise. With a quick meal, you begin the tour.

You're careful as you lead Victor to different parts of the building. It's an older building on the outskirts of the city, and the lighting leaves much to be desired. But the stonework is beautiful, as are the paintings hanging in the halls. You can't tell if the house had actual floorplans because the rooms and staircases seem to have been constructed at random places. You pass by the windows, admiring the plants in the courtyard that are bright in the soft rain, and as you walk to a quieter part of the building, you reach for his hand, curling your fingers around his firmly. Stepping into your favourite part of this odd little mansion, you show him the room you stop by every time you feel the urge to cry or rage.

There are mirrors of various shapes and sizes on all four walls, and the first time you had come in here you had been so dizzy you'd nearly missed a window in the corner. You had dragged an armchair in here, positioning it in front of the window that had its own private little view of the courtyard. As you declare the room as your spot, an excited skip in your step, Victor eyes you speculatively.

"You sounded a little haggard when we spoke yesterday," he begins, glancing at the door as you step closer and wrap your arms around him. "Yet, you seem almost cheerful now."

"Ah, well," you laugh nervously, a sliver of triumph slithering through you. You turn your head until you can see your reflection in few of the mirrors, the way Victor’s hand slips down to cup your ass before he seems to catch himself and bring it back to safer territory. "Yesterday was pretty rough. But, well. I have my ways of cheering myself up."

"Pancakes?"

'Well, that too.' You smile into his shirt, inhaling the subtle tones of his cologne. The familiar scent relaxes something in you, nearly making regret your plans of breaking this peaceful atmosphere. "Not quite."

He doesn't respond, merely waiting for you to come out with it. Your pulse quickens as you peer up at him sheepishly, hoping the expression isn't too exaggerated. "Well, I was so tense, you know. I needed something to take the edge off. So...you remember that voice note you once sent me?"

You wait for it to click, and you know the exact moment it does, the slight parting of his lips giving him away. "Yes."

"It helped me take care of things."

"Take care of things," he repeats, his hands flexing where they rest on your back.

"Uh, yeah. It's quite effective, I really have to thank you for that! Never fails to bring me to-"

"How often do you...use it?" he cuts you off, hands tightening their grip on you. You blink at his strained tone, adopting a look of slight confusion.

"...often enough. Is there a problem?" You pat yourself on the back for how concerned you manage to sound, snapping to attention when Victor scowls at you.

"Not a problem. But...why don't you just call me?"

"Sometimes I just wake up wanting you." You shrug casually and try to take a measured step away from him, but he doesn't let you, pulling you close to brush his lips over the tender spot underneath your ear.

"Then next time, call me," he murmurs, pressing soft yet insistent kisses down your neck as if trying to emphasise on how much he means it.

"Victor-" you try to protest, hoping dearly that your smile doesn't break free.

"I don't care. This is my job. Call me."

With cheeks warming at his stern tone, you laugh and begin to walk out of the room. "Fine, I'll try. But it won't be possible all the time, you know."

"Why not?" he asks, following you with a deep frown crinkling his forehead.

"Well, I'm going away tomorrow, and who knows what schedule will be like?" You do. "And I can't always disturb you."

A hand curls around your arm, pulling you back into the room just as you exit it. You crash against him when he drags you back towards him, his arms tight around you and keeping you in his hold. You're half expecting the way he kisses you, the way his tongue curls around yours demandingly, the moan it draws from you. Fingers tangle in your hair, keeping you in place for him to plunder your mouth greedily–but then it turns softer than you would like it to. His eyes are clear of any irritation when he pulls back, the dark hints of desire swept away quickly.

"I guess I can understand that. But I hope you know I'm always here to take care of anything you need," he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. You nod dumbly, not having expected him to be so agreeable.

"So, is this you giving me permission to finger myself to your voice anytime I want?" you joke weakly. His fingers dig into your skin for a moment, almost painfully, but his expression is still clear when you look at him again.

"You don't need my permission. Again, I do hope you'll make use of your willing boyfriend more often, hm?" he teases you lightly, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. You're rendered speechless by his inaction. He isn't tempted in the slightest, and you're not sure if you should be offended. No dragging you in front of the mirrors, demanding you to show him exactly how you touch yourself. He leads you out of the room, completely unruffled.

As you both head back to check on the crew, one last thought occurs to you. The final card. You pull your phone out quickly, opening Victor's chat and tapping the icon for attaching images.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” you begin, watching everyone run around as they pack up, and then you hit send. “It happened yesterday too, in the afternoon.”

Victor stops in his tracks as his phone vibrates. “But you were here yesterday afternoon.” He's still distracted by your words as he checks his messages, and you assume that's why he doesn't realize what he's looking at right away. You barely catch the way his breath hitches in his throat and his fingers tighten around the device, his fixed on the screen.

“Mhm. I was just so tense.” You study him as several emotions flit through his eyes in quick succession, and then his expression smooths out into something carefully measured and blank as he puts his phone back in his pocket, giving you a tight smile.

“Glad I could help.”

You feel like screaming, and not in the way you wanted to. Your grand plans of making Victor snap, lose control and take you in a shadowed corner of the building have turned to dust. Not even a picture of you, reflected in several mirrors with your hand up your skirt, could do it. And you'd wasted so much time on experimenting with the angles too. The aesthetic! Not even a compliment? You watch sullenly as the director comes up to him, drawing him into a chat easily.

‘I mean, I tried,’ you think resignedly, and go help with pack up. 'What does a girl have to do to get some dick around here?' Your shoulders remain slumped with disappointment throughout the process of wrapping up, and it's only when everyone's trickling out that the first seeds of doubt begin to bloom. The sky has cleared up and the fresh smell of rain still lingers in the air when you turn to the director.

"I'll see you in the morning?"

Jason nearly trembles with the force of what looks like excitement. "Actually, ___!Oh, we're so lucky–we don't have to go!"

"What do you mean? We still need to finalize the next location," you ask with no small amount of confusion. You've already packed.

"Yes, but I was just talking to Victor, and I think we’ve found the perfect location! We can go next week, he said he'll take care of it."

"He will?" you ask numbly, turning to the man in question who has just stepped up to stand next to you.

"Yes! I'll text you the details. I'm so glad you invited him. Thank you!" He takes your hands in his and shakes them enthusiastically, contrasting greatly with the sinking sensation in your gut. "What a great man!"

You watch mutely as he turns to Victor, who waves off the other man's praises with a small smile. A hand settles briefly on your shoulder, and you turn around to see Anna grinning at you. "Need a ride back home?"

"Yeah, actually-" you pause and look back over your shoulder, your eyes locking with a pair reminiscent of wild storms. "Uh, I think Victor's going to take me home."

"Oh?" Anna asks just as a hand settles on your lower back.

"Yes. Don't worry, I'll get her home in one piece," Victor assures her, an odd twinkle in his eye as Anna laughs in response.

"Oh, you two! Alright, have a good night."

You wish everyone else a good night, aware of the curious eyes boring into your backs as you both walk away. Your heart thumps loudly as you wait for him to say something, but Victor only makes idle chit-chat as he drives. How you feel about the filming, the cast, the predicted responses. He's at complete ease. It's when you're back in the main city, and you've relaxed into your seat. that he chooses to ask you something different.

"I was wondering if you'd like to stay over tonight. Now that you're free tomorrow, I mean." His tone remains casual, his eyes staying on the road as you perk up. "We haven't gotten much time together this month."

"Oh?"

"I baked something new yesterday, it would be nice if you could try it too," he tells you.

"Yeah, I think that's perfect!" you acquiesce at once, the prospect of getting to eat food cooked by him convincing you easily. Hopefully, after you've gotten to taste other things. "I've really missed you."

"Mm, I know." He flashes you a quick smile. "My babygirl's been misbehaving too. I think I need to make time for a quick lesson, no?"

For a moment, you think you've misheard. Your stomach tightens, and there are no words you can come up with in response, so you remain quiet. Even as he pulls up to his building and anticipation begins to pump through you like a slow drug, you think you could've imagined his words. There's an almost placid look on his face as you both enter the elevator, while you're sure you look like a nervous wreck. You shouldn't be anxious, you're getting exactly what you wanted. You've been feeling so needy it's pathetic, and Victor's going to take care of it.

Except, it didn't go according to plan, did it? You messed with him, but you had planned for him to have enough time and space to cool down while you were away. You hadn't expected him to derail the whole plan so easily.

His phone rings as he opens the door to his penthouse, and he takes the call. Thinking it must be important for him to answer right away, you take this chance to try and sneak away.

"Oh, ___?" You halt right away, but you can't bring yourself to see his expression. He's pressing the phone to his chest in an attempt to muffle his words. He drags a knuckle across the soft skin of your cheek, before a finger under your chin tilts your head up until you can look at him; he looks amused by your nervous demeanour. "Go freshen up. I want you in the living room in twenty minutes."

"O-okay." You're a little embarrassed by the high pitch of your voice, and as you hurry to his bathroom your mind races through the possibilities. An apology would have to be made, but it wouldn't be enough for him to let you off the hook. At this point, you can only appeal to the soft spot he has for you. With that thought in mind, you rush to his closet.

You clean up as well as you can within your time limit, braiding your hair back quickly, your face clear of any makeup. As you walk back into the living room, you see Victor sitting on the sofa, tapping away at his phone. Stopping by the kitchen to get you both some water, you remain silent as you come to a stop beside him and wait.

When he finally turns his phone off and leans back, you rush to get the words out. "Um, Victor, I-I'm really sorry about earlier today...I didn't mean to make you angry.”

He studies you from underneath thick lashes, stretching his neck and taking in the way the hem of his shirt falls to the middle of your thighs and the way your fingers play with it in a well-crafted picture of remorse. "I'm not angry."

"What?" you watch as he sips his water calmly.

"I'm not angry," he repeats, even though you think the dark look in his eyes says otherwise. "I understand why you did what you did."

"You do?" You curse your inability to form full sentences.

"Like I said, we've both been busy this month," he gestures for you to take a seat next to him. "You must've been frustrated."

Relief washes over you at the understanding in his voice. "I-yeah. I'm sorry. I should've just told you." He simply nods, stroking your cheek tenderly. Just as you begin to smile, his hand cups your jaw tightly, preventing any more words from leaving your lips. His grip his firm enough for your cheeks to feel squished, your lips forced into a pout. Your heart skips and drops as the tranquil curtain of his expression falls away, leaving behind something much more austere.

"Yes, you should have. I'm not angry about you touching yourself to the sound of my voice," he says, the gentleness in his tone slowly transitioning into fierceness. "I'm glad I could help." He leans into your space, his gaze locked on you, your eyes widening with panic. "What I don't appreciate is you trying to play games with me. And touching yourself in public? Where someone could have seen?"

You try to shake your head, somehow trying to convey the fact that you had been careful.

"The very thought of it..." he exhales forcefully and releases your jaw, leaning back a bit. "Now, come."

You're not completely sure he means what you think, and the thought of it sends fear and excitement racing through you. You hadn't expected things to take this turn, for him to have seen through your games so easily and taken steps to ensure you couldn't see them through. As he pats his thigh, you crawl over his lap, positioning yourself carefully until you're lying across it. He runs a hand over your back, caressing the back of your head lovingly as you try not to tremble.

"No need to be nervous. You've told me yourself–I'm a good teacher." His tone remains calm as his hand wanders over your body, sliding down the length of your spine to stroke your thighs before pulling the shirt up and dragging your underwear down roughly, baring your ass to him. Nimble fingers stroke and squeeze the plump flesh of your rear, and your breath begins to grow heavy. "Did you really think you could get away with it?"

His hand comes down on your skin in an open-handed blow, not too hard, and you jolt more from the surprise than the sting. You manage to bite back a whimper, and the way Victor's hand massages the skin feels like approval. His hand is warm, and the other settles over the back of your neck, as you rest your head over hands that clutch at the cushion.

"Tell me what you did wrong." Another slap, this time on the other cheek.

"I-I played games." You yelp at the hard smack delivered over the top of your thigh, right where it meets your ass. Your cheeks feel uncomfortably hot–both the sets.

"I know you can do better than that," he coaxes, his tone wicked. You whimper softly as he massages the stinging skin, squirming on his lap until his hand squeezes with a warning.

"I tried t-to tease you," you whisper, and he hums in approval.

"Yes, you were a filthy girl today. Tormenting me with thoughts of coming just by listening to an old voice not. And that picture," he growls. You expect the strong smack this time, your eyes brimming with tears as you try to breathe steadily. "And what should you have done instead?"

"I should've been honest." You hasten to continue when he pinches your prickling skin. "I should've told you how...how badly I needed it."

A smack, and the tears spillover. "Needed what?"

"Y-your cock, sir." It slips out automatically, and you know he likes it when he spends more time soothing your flesh.

"And the picture? Touching yourself where anyone could have walked in?" Smack. "All because you were hungry for my cock. All you had to do was ask." Smack.

"I-I'm sorry, sir. I thought you w-would like it." You part your legs as his hand ventures further down; you wince when you hear him click his tongue and feel him yank at your underwear hard enough to tear it in half. In a rare show of mercy, two of his fingers probe your entrance, although you're immensely embarrassed when you realize how wet you are.

He sighs loudly, sounding disappointed. "Here I am, trying to teach you something, and look at you. You're dripping." If you hadn't known him as well as you do, you wouldn't have been able to detect the pleased edge to his voice. "Answer me honestly. If I hadn't put a stop to your misbehaviour, would you have continued while you were away?"

You freeze in place, blinking through the blurriness as you remember the videos you had planned to film while you were beyond his reach. A gentle pinch of your clit has you moaning, scrambling to get hold of your thoughts, which becomes more difficult when his finger pushes into you.

"I want an answer."

"Y-yes, sir. I was going to..." He continues to slide his finger in and out, rubbing along your walls firmly.

"More pictures?"

"Yes...and videos," you whimper. He only hums thoughtfully, pulling his finger out, and in the next second, he delivers a loud smack on your throbbing cunt.

You can only sob as your mind blanks, trembling in earnest as you struggle to breathe. "I-I'm sorry, sir. Please...I'll be good, I-I promise."

"Shh," he slides two fingers along your heat, rubbing gently. "What do you want?"

"Please...please make me come," you beg, squeezing your walls tightly. The drag of his fingers over your slit is slow, achingly slow, but you don't dare move.

"Alright. Mouth?" The thought of his tongue on you nearly makes you come right there, but you manage to remember what you had been aiming for earlier.

"Could I...could you..." you stumble over your words, frustrating yourself more, but the hand now stroking the stinging flesh of your rear is patient. "Please fuck me. Please. Please."

"Hmm. We'll see." He manoeuvres your body until you're curing into his chest and you feel as if you could pass out from the force of your relief–until he continues. "But first, get on your knees."

You know your face is set in disbelief and despair as you lock eyes with him, but he just gazes back steadily. You know it's better to go along with what he says and be rewarded. You've had enough of the punishment, and you'll do whatever it takes to get to the goal. With his help, you're soon kneeling between his legs, grateful for the plush rug cushioning your knees. Victor continues to look at you expectantly, prompting you to unbuckle his belt as swiftly as you can. Before you can unzip him, he stops you.

"Not yet."

Uncertain of what he means, you remove your hand from his crotch. His fingers slide into your hair, tightening until you feel the sting, and pull you forward until your nose brushes against the soft fabric of his pants. You can feel the way it strains against the restricting cloth, and it makes your mouth water. You mouth at his clothed erection and he loosens his grip on your hair, content to watch you trace his bulge with your lips for a long moment.

"Now."

You scramble to obey, unzipping him with shaky fingers and pulling his pants down along with his boxer briefs, eyes fixed on the way his cock bounces, it's head glistening temptingly. You can't help the hungry kisses you plant along his muscled thighs, barely refraining from sinking your teeth into the firm skin. Resting your chin on his knee, you peer up at him for the next order.

Victor inhales sharply, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Good girl. Suck." The first taste of him on your tongue is salty, and you suck on his tip softly, pleased at the soft groan he lets you hear. "Deeper. Don't use your hands." You take his cock in until it hits the back of your throat, trying to relax your jaw around it. As you begin to bob your head up and down, his hips begin to thrust shallowly. Your fingers dig into your thighs, fighting the urge to touch him, and you keep a smooth pace.

Until a hard thrust has you choking on his length, over and over again.

"See, that's the problem, babygirl," he growls, cupping the back of your head as his cock hits the back of your throat painfully. "If you insist on acting like a disobedient slut, then I'm going to have to treat you like one."

You're unsure if you're really crying or if your eyes are just watering from the force of his thrusts–not that it really matters. He stills when he's deep in your mouth, watching you struggle to breathe and keep your mouth open. "You have to show me you deserve to have my cock in you."

He pulls out of your mouth, his fingers pumping his length urgently as you cough pitifully. "Open your mouth. Stick your tongue out."

His words are a hot jolt in your core, and you obey him immediately, with your eyes still watery and your jaw still aching. Your walls squeeze around nothing as he comes on your tongue, and despite your attempts at catching all of it, some dribbles down your chin and cheek. And still, you wait.

"Swallow." You do so, wiping the rest off your skin as best you can and licking it off your fingers. Every bit of it seems worth it when you see the glazed look in Victor's eyes, and the little smile curving his lips up as he watches you lick enthusiastically.

He pulls you back onto his lap, holding you close and rubbing your back gently as you accept the glass of water he hands you, taking only a small sip before slumping into his chest. You stay there for a while, your ear pressed against the skin over his heart, and you feel it gradually slow down from its quick thumping.

You gather the remnants of your resolve and tug at his shirt. "Sir–pease fuck me." You feel him pause against you, and then shake as he begins to laugh.

"Ah, you're so greedy, sweetheart. You want my cock that badly?" he teases, as if he doesn't already know how desperate you are.

"Yes. Please."

"And what if I don't want to give it to you?"

You know you're way past feeling any embarrassment when tears pool in your eyes, the depth of your need endless and the prospect of it remaining unanswered terrifying. "Please, please, I'll be good, I'll do anything." Thumbs sweep away the tears sliding down your cheeks, and you feel his lips on your forehead.

"Don't worry, I was just teasing," he assures you, his previously rough tone taking on a soothing note. "I could never leave my babygirl in such a state. You've more than earned it." He helps you slide your knees apart until they rest on either side of his hips, kissing you softly the whole time. As he pushes through your swollen lips, sliding into the hilt with little resistance, you think you could stay like this for the rest of your life, keeping his cock inside you and his arms around you. He pulls you to rest against him, adjusting himself until he's able to begin thrusting with progressively stronger thrusts. "Is this what you wanted?"

You moan nearly incoherently, nodding fervently. His hands cup your ass, and the nexus between the pleasure from him fucking you and the pain from the stinging skin of your ass makes your eyes roll back into your head. He uses the grip on your cheeks to bounce you on his cock, syncing the motion with his thrusts. "A-all I wanted..."

"It's yours. All you have to do..." he presses his face into your hair, driving his hips up into yours relentlessly. "...is ask." He keeps you in place with one arm, and then there are fingers rubbing tight circles into your clit and beginning the start of your end, as you begin to shatter into pieces. You forget everything but the heat pumping into you, working you through the daze, warm arms and soft lips slowly putting you back together. You barely register the deep groaning he's unable to suppress as his pace kicks up to rush to the finish line, as you press lazy kisses up his throat.

"Could I ask for one more thing?" Your voice is barely a whisper, and your lips brush against his earlobe, teeth scraping against the tender skin as he gasps. "Sir?"

"Anything," he rasps out, the flush on his cheeks spreading down to his chest. "Anything."

"Could you come in me?" you murmur. "Just...fill me up. Till the last drop. Please?"

You can't help but smile at the curse that leaves his mouth, and the bruising kiss he pulls you into as he fulfils your request, his thick seed filling you in quick, hot spurts. Neither of you pulls away even once he grows soft within you, losing yourselves in the meeting of your mouths until you can’t keep your head up and let it fall onto his shoulder.

“I’ve got you. You did so well, sweetheart,” Victor murmurs into your hair as you smile sleepily. “Let’s get some lotion on this cute butt, hmm?”

The laugh you’re startled into turns into pained croaks as your throat protests the action.

“And some tea, I see. Just relax and let me take care of you, okay?” He carries you to the bedroom carefully, holding you close as if in possession of priceless jewels. You spread out over his bed on your stomach, letting your body melt into the sheets. A pleased sound leaves your lips when you feel him rub the cool lotion into your abused skin.

You’re not aware of how much time has passed when you’re startled awake, and look up to see Victor smiling apologetically at you from his seat at the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You crawl forward towards him, letting him pull you up so you can curl into a ball between his legs. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts, the cotton fabric soft and soothing on your skin. “I made you some tea.”

The first sip is painful, but within a few more you’re able to swallow with some relief. “Thank you.”

“Let me know if you feel up to eating something.”

“Mm.” With the taste of honey on your tongue, you nuzzle his neck as he pulls a blanket over you. His arms are warm and reassuring around your tired body. “I wanted to have sex in the mirror room.”

“I know.”

“Mean.”

“I’m not that easy, darling,” he says imperiously, soft lips brushing your temple. “If you want me to drop my pants in public, you’ll have to try harder than that.”

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mlqc smut #mr love queen's choice #mr love: queen's choice #mlqc li zeyan

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

❛ THE DANGEROUS SHOW ❜

WORDS: 3k.

Warnings: swearing, unprotected sex, male and female oral sex, brief degradation, mentions of bodily fluids, Taza losing control.

❚❙ Aurora comments: blame my incredible @sonsofeorl for making this awesome and hot af gif for me, and my lovely wife @mayans-sauce for pushing me to write this masterpiece. This is for you, babies.

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. This writing also contains some words in spanish. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted ❤

❚❙ GIF credits: to my wonderful @sonsofeorl ✨

❚❙ CHE ‘TAZA’ ROMERO MASTERLIST.

❚❙ MASTERLIST.

❚❙ JOIN MY TAG LIST.

Coming into your house in silence, you already know what is going to happen. He has always been a tender and gentle man, unless you ask for something else. But tonight? Tonight he can't hide the beast awake inside him after watching you give such a show in front of his brothers, with the only intention of teasing him. In his retinas is burned the image of you bending over the pool table and your tight ass under the shorts pointing straight at him. Doing it on purpose. That's where it all started.

Slamming the door behind his back, your husband's hands land on your hips, pushing you a step back to collide your body with his, as his strong arms wrap you to not let you escape. Automatically and by inertia, your eyelids get closed feeling his warmth breath against your neck. Taza can't forget the way you pretended that your pool stick was something like a pole to dance around on. The way your waist swinged hypnotically, the way your hair moved at the rhythm, the way your eyes were provoking him, watching you over the edge of his glass of whisky; having a sweet, sweet sip, while imagining all the things he would do to you as soon as you reached your house.

Dragging his rough lips over your bare shoulder, traveling your skin till finding the weak spot under your ear, Taza nails his teeth there. A soft bite that steals you a soft moan. Licking your bottom lip, in the meantime that you toss your arms to the back of his head, his right hand catches your throat, closing his ringed fingers around it increasing the heat invading your anatomy.

“Did you have fun?”

The husky and calm whisper falls onto your ear, making you shudder under his grip. You love with all your heart his loving, kind and delicate facade, but this dominant one? That's a higher level. Four words and you're about to start to beg for a punishment. He can feel under his fingers your throat heavily gulping, making you walk under the darkness to the closest window inside the ranch, looking for some moonlight.

“I asked you a question”.

Again this tone of voice that could put you to pray in a second, echoes within your head. At first, you nod. But then you add a faint yes. His soft chuckles against your exposed neck provoke a violent shake in your thighs up to your center, racing your heart as the arm around your lower abdomen tightens the grip.

“All my brothers were watching you, mi amor”. Placing smooth kisses on your neck, your husband travels his lips to the line of your jaw, tilting your head to reach your mouth. “Everyone watched how your sexy and desirable body, my body, danced sensually around the club; that magical eroticism following you everywhere, heating the atmosphere, hardening me like that”.

Taza presses your abdomen against his pelvis, slightly rubbing the rock under his jeans on your ass. The gasp sliding out your lips is really pathetic and needed; this is what you earn when you don't behave. Urging you to make the big window to the terrace a foothold while his arms leave your body, he takes a quick look of your ass raised back, as you're almost bent against the glass.

His fingers roam the waistband of your shorts dangerously, until rolling them down in just one pull, exposing your perfect ass not even covered by the fine black thong; only for his delight. Your husband drags his callously hands over your buttocks, separating them briefly to check that the piece of fabric between your folds is really wet. Taza can't help but lick his lips, feeling the lust taking power of his body, when he's able to see your sweet cunt shining with your delicious juices. He could be hours eating you out, causing you the heavenly orgasm anyone has given you in your life; but you have been only teasing him, and you don't deserve it.

Leaning forward and pressing his hard dick against your ass, he can't stop his body from slowly swinging against it, looking for some more friction to alleviate the pain of his jeans clenching around his crotch.

“If you had been a good girl, right now I would be fucking this tight soaked pussy who drive me insane”. His raspy murmurs are killing you, and your husband knows it to the perfection. “But you know… that you were not a good girl”.

“Fuck, no”. Grunting, your voice ends up breaking because of the imperious sensation of pleasure accumulating between your legs with every move he does. “I was a very, very bad girl”.

“Turn around and kneel, mi amor”.

When Taza uses that authoritative tone, you lose completely the control over your body, obeying automatically.

He can see in your eyes how desperate and anxious you are right now, making a simple gesture with his bearded chin to indicate you to place your hands behind your back and to not move unless he tells you to do it. Your orbs travel to his fingers, when you hear his belt being undone. You can't help but lick your lips feeling the hunger suffocating you, as soon as he rolls down his clothes enough to let his hardness spring free up to his abdomen, covered by the black shirt under his Mayans kutte.

Pumping himself with his eyes glued on yours, the pain starts to disappear to give way to the pleasure.

“Show me your tongue”.

Sticking it out of your mouth, you sit over your heels and the fabric of your shorts yet tangled in your ankles, before he rests his glans on your tongue. You're barely breathing, watching him enjoying his torture as you can't taste him as you would like.

“You want it?”

Answering as you can with another yes, Taza curves his lips in a naughty smile.

“You think you deserve it? Or should I just cum in your mouth, so you will learn to not play with me?”

The please as a painful beg comes from the deepest part of your throat, making him know you have learnt the lesson already, trying to come closer just the minimal inch enough looking for more. Placing his free hand on the back of your head, he pushes you softly, inviting you to lick all his length now free from his fingers; using them to lift up his shirt above his abdomen. The tip of his tongue tastes him from the base till closing your lips around his head. Gulping an uncontrollable moan, you make Taza chuckles deeply.

“Take it all, as I know you can, baby girl”.

His dark voice provokes you fierce shivers down your spine, welcoming him within your mouth without doubting, until he starts to press your head closer forcing your throat with his throbbing cock, waiting for a gag. You hold it as much as you can, till feeling the choking sensation that makes your husband growl loudly, tossing his head back with both eyes closed. But he doesn't lose his grip, earning a second gag and some coughs that shakes his whole anatomy and cuts his breathing for a second.

“Holy shit, mi amor…”

Pulling himself away, Taza sees the stripes of saliva connecting your lips and his dick, until you catch them with your tongue. Your lungs are being filled up with air furiously, asking for more in silence.

“You're so fucking needed, aren't you?”

Before you can answer him, he has slammed his rock inside your mouth again, crashing it against the wall of your throat. But this time, he lets you do the best you can do. Blow his soul out of his body. And you don't want to play anymore.

Your warm lips stretch his sensible skin, closing around it and bowing your head back and forth. Once and again. Maintaining eye-contact, and assuring yourself Taza is enjoying it. The pace is rude and fast, twirling your tongue all around his length, as you close your hands behind your back nailing your fingers in your palms. You can feel how wet your thong is, placed between your folds, thinking that maybe he won't be this petty if you please him enough, so he will give you a reward.

“You take me… so good, sweetheart”. He howls to the darkness of your place, barely illuminated for the moonshine, grabbing his shirt in a fist. “Such a dirty girl needed for his man's dick the whole fucking time, aren't you, ah…? I fucking bet you're wetting the floor”.

Of course you are. You can feel your warm juices spilling down your thighs, rubbing them desperate while watching him place his other hand on your head too. From now, you know you have lost the less control over the situation you could have had.

“You want it harder? Talk to me”. Taza demands pulling himself out and slightly squatting next to you.

“Yes, please”. Breathless, you nod your chin, as five fingers wrap tightly your throat. “I want it harder, please”.

“Open your mouth”. And you do without complaining, earning a spit from him into it. “Don't swallow it. Stand up”.

Obeying orders, you are bringed to the closest sofa where he has a sit after rolling down his jeans and boxers to his ankles.

“Take your clothes off”.

He could kill you with that dominant voice controlling you, getting rid of your sneakers and your socks, to continue by your jeans and your shirt. His eyes land automatically on your breasts. Your nipples are so hard that the fabric of your shirt was fucking you up.

“Kneel between my legs”.

Your husband doesn't have to tell you twice, kneeling down and putting your hands again to your back. His fingers jerk himself off, placing the other on your nape to lean it over his dick shining covered in your saliva.

“Spill it”.

The mix of your salivas fall down from your lips. Taza spreads it thoroughly with the pre-cum he collects using his thumb, feeling the warm and dense liquid also staining his tensed balls. And before previous notice, your husband pushes his hardness into your mouth. But this time, he doesn't show any mercy, forcing your cavity by pressing both hands on your head. In his mind still dancing the image of you sitting on his lap, under everybody's gazes, leaning over his ear and licking the sweet spot under it; purring like the much-needed whore you are for him. You can't help it, you love it. You love Taza more than you can explain. You love every single thing about him.

And your husband can't stop his hips from swinging roughly against your throat, choking you delightedly on his cock. He has lost control over his body, succumbing to his most animal instinct, as the knot in his lower abdomen becomes strong enough to make him know how close he is from the edge.

“C'mon, baby girl… Fuck… Suck my dick just like that and I'm gonna cream your throat down”.

The tears falling down your cheeks, because of the delicious effort, is getting mixed in your lips with his scent and your saliva. You're a complete mess right now, welcoming him without complaining, reaching the final act.

His loud and sloppy vocals fill up the whole ranch, forcing your mouth one last time. Raising up his hips and pressing your head down, till your nose is stuck in his pelvis, you feel him exploding inside your mouth, while his seed is spilled out by the corners of your lips. A last gag shakes his anatomy with a furious moan escaping from him, rolling his eyes to the back of his head and containing his breathing.

Running out of air, he urges you to stand up as you swallow his juices, pushing you onto his lap to catch your lips with his. Taza devours them hungrier than ever, tasting himself satisfied, sliding his tongue in your cavity to dominate your sleepy one. Pulling his face away from yours some inches, your husband contemplates his piece of art. Your swollen and abused lips look beautiful, focusing on them to calm his anxiety after what just happened.

“You have been such a good girl”. He whispers, catching back some air to bring to his lungs, putting aside a soft bristle of hair stuck in your sweaty forehead. “You deserve a reward, don't you?”

Almost nodding, he spank your ass with his ringed fingers when you're about to reply. Stirring because of the strong clap, you can't avoid a delicious moan, while his digits get dug in your skin.

“Tell me what you want, mi amor”.

There's no dominant tone anymore, giving path to the sensual and honeyed voice he usually uses with you, pulling you closer to peck your lips with clingy and tender kisses.

“I want to ride your fingers… por favor”. The desperate sob you utter squeezes his heart for a moment.

Taza always gets sure you enjoy more than him, but this time he has earned it, remembering the dirty words you whispered into his ear in front of his brother; letting him know how wet your pussy was just by imagining his tongue sucking and pulling your clit.

“Por favor”. You say again, bringing him back to reality.

“Got a better idea, mi amor…”

Easily moving you to the other side of the sofa, he kneels in front of you, spreading your legs to place them over his shoulders. Almost lying on your back, your crystal eyes go straight to his provocative ones, watching and feeling his lips leaving short kisses on your inner thighs. The sensation of his rough beard rubbing your skin is undescribable, closing your eyelids to focus only on his caresses.

It's just a soft touch of the tip of his tongue over your warm folds, which makes you moan eagerly, in the meantime that you tangled your fingers on his head.

“Fuck, Che…” You cry out. “No more games, please… I need you so fucking much”.

Your wishes are commands for him, for his mouth. His lips sucks out your swollen clit, sliding two curved fingers into your cunt, waiting a long second to let your walls fit around his digits. And you can't help but arch your back, shivering under his touches. You are aware that it's not going to cost him much time to make you cum, but he's going to do his best.

“You're so tight, baby girl… So fucking warm… I love it”.

Soon, Taza speeds up the moves of his wrist, slamming his palm against your soaked pussy, provoking obscenes blops that fill up the living room in sync with your whinings. His mouth is taking care of your throbbing clit, traveling his free hand to attend your hard nipples. The heat covering your anatomy increases your vocals, thanking not having neighbors that could hear you screaming your husband's name and how good he makes you feel.

Every thrust of his fingers is deeper and faster than the last, as the others pinch and massage your breasts as much as he can enclose by his huge hand. The contrast of his rings inside you is pushing you to the limit, unconsciously rocking your hips against his face.

“C'mon, mi amor… give to your man what he desires the most”.

Hitting your g-spot, by forcing his hand within your cunt, he suddenly steals all the air in your lungs; finding your wished orgasm, shaking your body over the sofa. Securing you under the grip of his firm and strong arms, Taza drinks triumphantly your juices as you try to survive to his caresses. His tongue tastes, licks and cleans your core pleased with what he has provoked in you, before leaving a tender bite in your inner thigh.

Standing up on his boots, to put on his clothes, your husband gives you some seconds to recover yourself while your legs continue shaking slightly. If he expects you to walk, he's very wrong. But he's not stupid. Helping you to get up, Taza lifts you up between his arms, helping you to wrap his waist with your legs to bring you to your private bathroom, inside your shared dorm.

“Are you upset for what I did?” You babble resting your cheek on his shoulder, feeling tired and sleepy.

His laughs echoing the hallway, shaking his head briefly.

“Upset for turning me on like you did…? Fuck, no, cariño. That was fucking hot”. He purrs onto your ear, sinking your nose in his neck to have a deep breath of his scent. “Did I hurt you?”

“Of course not”. Whispering, you can't help but yawn exhausted, reaching your room.

“You sure?”

“I'm sure, baby”. You reply while pressing lethargic kisses on his rough skin, barely covered by his beard. “I want to repeat some day”.

“Next time I will not wait till coming home”.

Gently leaving you over the king size bed, your husband kisses your forehead with a gesture full of tenderness and love.

“Wait for me here. I will prepare a bath, okay?”

“Hm…” Barely nodding, he shows you a soft smile.

“I love you, you know it, 'right?”

“Yeah”. Your mood changes a little to a joyful one, placing your hands on both sides of his neck to nudge him straight to your lips.

“I love you more than anything. You're my life, never forget it, baby”. Taza hums brushing them, before leaving a one last kiss. “Give me just a second to run the bath”.

“Don't take too long, I'm already missing you, Che”.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #che taza romero #che taza romero x reader #taza romero x reader #taza romero #taza romero imagine

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knockknockchicagopd · 4 years ago

Text

❛ I'M NOT BULLETPROOF ❜

❚❙ REQUEST BY ANON: Hello, here’s the request all sort out ... could I get a Antonio imagine where the reader is related to someone on the unit? With the prompts (fluff 3/ 7) and also could you make it smut? Thank you once more!

❚❙ PROMPTS: “I just wanted to hear your voice”. / “We can pretend that nothing happened last night, but it did”.

❚❙ ANTONIO DAWSON MASTERLIST.

❚❙ WORDS: about 2k.

❚❙ WARNINGS: nsfw, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids.

❚❙ GIF credits: to my amazing @sonsofeorl.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @anotherfan07 @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

“Hey…”

“Antonio?”

Sitting up on your bed tossing away the sheets, you turn on the small lamp somewhat worried. It's too late and his gloomy tone of voice worries you. For Jay, you know it hasn't been a good week in the way of the delicate case they have had in his hands. A guy who used to rape and murder officers, just because he thought they didn't deserve to live. In the academy, the instructors teach you to catch the bad people but not to deal mentally with what they do. Every cop has their own way to confront him. Your brother, for example, likes to play videogames to escape from the world.

“You okay?” Whispering, you curl up your legs to your chest, resting your cheek on them.

“Yeah, just wanted to hear your voice”.

You can't help but draw a shy smile on your lips, feeling your face slightly burning. You can't lie and say that he hasn't attracted you since Jay introduced you. He has always been kind and tender, and more funny than your middle-brother had told you.

Last night you went to dinner after work and he drove you to your house. And no, you weren't expecting him to kiss you, just as he wasn't expecting you to correspond it with something else than a physical attraction. You can assure that you're in love with him, but you know you are falling for him a little more every time Antonio looks at you and smiles for no reason.

“Whe—Where are you?”

“Close to the beach. Walking. Clearing my head”.

Puckering your lips, placing your eyes over the large window in front of your bed, you try to not succumb to a new necessity you didn't know you had.

“Wanna come over…?”

“I'd like it”. The murmur appears after some seconds of silence, racing your heart for an instant.

“'Key, see you now”. Biting your bottom lip to contain a smile, you hang up the call.

You decide to get up from bed, being aware that if you stay there you'll end up falling asleep again. The beach isn't too far from your house, knowing the way to perfection. It's your favorite place to have something for dinner after a long shift in the cafeteria you work in. Taking the advantage to bring some order in your flat, you lose track of time till the knocks on the main door claims your attention.

Accommodating your hair, you lead your bare feet to the entrance not being able to hide the soft smile that curves up the corners of your lips, when you receive him. Antonio looks tired to death, not wasting time to hug you under the door frame. Surrounding his neck with both arms you take a step to hold him closer, being overwhelmed by all the sensations he is transmitting to you in such a simple gesture.

The hug lasts longer than you could think, not being bothered by that, enjoying every second of his warmth wrapping you. Hearing him sigh with his forehead resting over your shoulder, you push some distance between both to let him come inside and close the door after his steps.

“Wanna drink something? I have beer, coke, whisky… Water?”

“No, I'm good”. He just replies, taking off his jacket to hang it on a chair. “Listen… we can pretend that nothing happened last night. But it did. I don't wanna put pressure on you and I know who your brothers are, but… I really like you. I've been thinking about you, about us, the whole day. In my job you know when you start to work, but you don't know if you'll come home and I don't want to lose the opportunity of being with you, of leaving this world knowing… that I've made you happy”.

These words, the desperation in his voice as he is finishing them, leaves you speechless. Your brain is trying to process what Antonio has just said, keeping his trembling hands inside the pocket of his jeans. The first thing you can think about is that you don't care about Jay, nor Will. They only want for you a man who treats you like you deserve. The best of the best. And the man in front of you is it.

“I can leave, if you wan'me to”.

“Wh— no, no, no”. You fastly reply, taking the steps enough to shorten the distance between the two of you, aware that you've spent too many seconds without saying anything, making him doubt that you don't feel exactly like he does. “I… Antonio, I…”

As soon as you understand that you're not able to form a sentence with sense, you simply place your hands on both sides of his neck while standing on your tiptoes, to crash your lips on his. It doesn't take him by surprise, being what he was waiting for more than for a talk. Bending down slightly, he lifts you up to urge you to surround his waist with your legs. The necessity of feeling each other closer and closer is suffocating you, leaving you breathless because of the passion concentrated in the kiss.

Antonio brings you to your room fastly than you can assimilate, falling on the bed when his knees collide with the mattress. The kiss breaks because of the laughs with a sensation of joyful filling up your chests. Helping him with his t-shirt to throw it somewhere on the floor, you roll up over his body before attacking his lips again. Biting, sucking and tasting them. Deepening with his tongue invading your mouth to play with yours. His hands paw your body almost desperate to memorize every inch of your anatomy, landing them on your ass when he feels the friction against the rock under his jeans, as soon as you swing your hips.

Antonio tosses off his shoes, heel against heel, sliding his fingers over your body to grab the gems of your t-shirt and take it off to discover your soft and sweet skin. Normally, both you and him, would enjoy some foreplay; but not this time. Not after long months of containing the desire to be together in every way. He needs to be inside you. You need him to be inside of you. And while his lips devour your breasts helping himself with a hand, stealing your honeyed moans, the other undoes his belt and the zip of his jeans. Three simply pulls down and his hardness breaks free to his abdomen.

You can't help but lick your lips strongly, urging you to lie on your back to watch him roll down the black thong left on you by your thighs. The fire burning within his eyes gives you chills, not being able to break eye-contact. Settling himself between your legs, spreading them for his delight, his right hands goes straight to his dick; jerking himself off to prepare for you.

“Look at me…” He almost begs with a broken thread of voice, as his glans rubs your center slowly, playing with your mind. “We're on time to stop”.

“I don't want you to”. Your lips brushes his, wrapping his neck with both arms.

You couldn't regret it. You couldn't regret letting him walk into your life. For letting him love you with so much kind and tenderness. Antonio is everything you could have dreamt with all your life, and you're not going to let him go. He just nods in silence with his eyes fixed on yours, digging himself inch by inch inside you. The warmth and the wetness within your cunt make him grunt and shake slightly, feeling by his part how his length forces your wall a little creating a delicious sensation.

“Fuck…” You sigh nailing your fingertips on the back of his neck when he reaches your limits.

Buried deep inside you, one of your legs surrounds his waist trying to push him closer.

“You feel so good, amor”. He babbles pecking your lips with sloppy kisses, placing his right hand on your thigh, as the other wraps your middle back. “You wan'me to move?”

“Please, Antonio”.

He feels proud of hearing you imploring, moving his hips back enough to go forth again, starting a slow dance that curls your tiptoes and causes your eyelids to close. It feels like your bodies are made exactly for the other, fitting to perfection. Soon, your whimpers fill up your room, creating a pleased and delighted echo that it's like a celestial song for the man satisfying you as his only worry tonight. He has the imperious necessity of demonstrating you every single thing he has carried inside his heart since Jay introduced you.

Thrust after thrust, moan after moan, the atmosphere around you is full of heat and devotion for each other. Antonio nails his teeth in your neck without warning you, feeling the tip of his tongue pressing down your skin with soft caresses, being aware that tomorrow you will have a new tattoo. From your lips escape some giggles mixed with surprised gasps, being the match that lights the wildfire inside you.

With a quick move, not knowing where the strength has come from, you sit over him making him laugh. Putting your hands on his bare chest, Antonio travels his to your hips while resting his head on the pillow. If he wasn't in love before, now he really is, watching you taking control. He hasn't ever seen a most beautiful view; you, rocking your body over his, dragging your nails on his skin to bristle it wherever they venture, your breasts almost bouncing with every move (...). If his body were a temple, you would be his goddess without a single damn doubt.

And you can't help but speed up the pace, synchronizing your pleased vocals in a perfect melody all around; increasing them as the knot in your lower belly becomes more suffocating, running your lungs out of air. One of Antonio's hands is placed in your middle back, pushing you down to catch your lips with his. He has declared himself an addict since the very first moment he touched them.

The pearls of sweat decorate your foreheads, as the moans are constant and you can't delay it anymore. The orgasm explodes inside you like fireworks screaming out his name, not caring about the fact that your neighbors can hear you, feeling his hot seed filling you up with a last push to your g-spot. An indescribable sensation that has you two breathless.

You can't help but utter a grunt of disappointment when he pulls himself out of you, falling by a side of your bed trying to catch back your air. Looking at Antonio, the two of you giggle inevitably being conscious of what just happened. But it feels good. It feels so good. Stretching his arms towards you to embrace you against his body, he leans a little to press his lips on yours with so much tenderness, leaving a sigh on them. Resting your heads on the pillow, you place a hand on his cheek to caress it gently with your thumb, watching him close his eyes to only focus on your touch.

“The first time I saw you… I knew your smile would give me some trouble”. You mumble, feeling his grip become a little tightly.

“Did it, uh?”

“Not the kind I thought”.

Antonio chuckles licking his bottom lip, shrugging funnily.

“I'm not gonna say I'm sorry, baby”.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ⚡#antonio dawson #antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawson imagine #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader

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