#gold fro cash

[goldbuyersimgtop]

https://www.imggoldbuyers.com/sell-gold-for-cash-in-calicut/

sell gold with img gold buyers the popular gold buyers in south india

[itsbenedict]

The Flood is a tabletop game by Jenna Moran about poetry mutilation and farmland financialization. Last August, Farn, Zero and I all played it. These are the results:

Where the Sidewalk Ends, by Shel Silverstein (maimed by me)

There is a place where sidewalk ends And right before the long street bends, And there the grass grows soft for friends, As under sun the road it wends And there the moon-bird rests from flight To cool in the peppermint night. Let’s leave this place where smoke blows white And dark streets wind away from sight. Yes, Ickle, Pickle, Tickle Too Go o’er sidewalk with flying shoe. ��Hooray! What fun! It’s time we flew!” Say each and every -Ickle Too And Captain Ick drives Pick down streets While Tick cooks stews with beans and beets And higher, higher, in their seats Ick Pick and Tick chase sidewalk’s sweets. Past pits where asphalt flowers grow We walk a walk measured and slow, And watch where chalk-white arrows go To reach where sidewalk dare not flow. Yes, walk a walk measured and slow, And go where chalk-white arrows go, For children mark, and children know Where sidewalk ends, it ends fo’ sho’.

Question, by May Swenson (vivisected by @eternalfarnham)

Body my house my horse my spouse How will I rouse when you are soused Where will I sleep What tea will I steep What prey, like sheep Upon shall I leap Where can I go With my to all fro too late for the show How will I know in thicket ahead If my genes will spread when Body my shed- raised dog is dead How will it be to lie fancy free without cash to buy A house in Mai Lai With cloud for shift how will I grift? Body, mortgaged horse and house And rouses GDP from the thicket How can I rest? I’ll sell my shed-raised dog And we all lie fancy free in Mai Lai To profit without needing any grift But how am I meant to grift When I own such a profitable house, Comparable to a timeshare in Mai Lai And bring with them a faithful little dog Called Body to investigate thickets? Your wallet will ever be thick. It Will let you achieve results without grift Your investors? Like sheep. Just trust me, dog, Your body, like a temple, but, a house On such a venture? You can’t let this lie! But if you don’t want Mai Lai Or to eval treasures in the thicket, Away this deal, then turn to theft and grift Then let the cops slam you in the big house Where you’ll be eaten by a faithful dog. In this race I have no dog. Do I seem like the kind of girl to lie? If so, I’ll return to my giant house, Because I left you in the cruel thicket, And need therapy. But my guy has grift And back the world’s most profitable dog: The body of this poem is no grift. You can’t let this venture eternal lie As if dead, never roused from the thicket. You’ll thank me when you beat the gambling house. A thicket fit for capital’s running-dogs, In you I lie, and profit without grift.

untitled, by @cloakofshadow (grievously injured by Zerovirus)

The world was born in flame and gold, By decree of realm’s supreme, Fresh and free of painful earthly debts. You would not dare the market break, The world was born- then torn and sold, Creation’s value pierced the sky It pleases you to buy and buy and buy To know all things would surely grow in price. A thousand graphs housing bearish prices, That quaver tracking values of soft gold, Merchants follow but one goal supreme, Flee from spectres, shadows of your true debt. All souls are born in void, and break, So why not make some cash when they get sold Souls born in an empty void-like sky Know nothing but that they must buy buy buy. And all their reason works to buy Lights that cast no shadows but for price, Each night ursines fight for flecks of gold, Strive and strife and prove themselves supreme. Constant siblings are their death and debt, Each others’s skulls they crack and fiercely break. No use for pebbles that you cannot sell, No need for solid stone beneath the sky. And even you, who seeks the sky You would not dare not to buy; You’ve made the grave your lordly price And drawn all warmth from hoarded gold Atop which you take repose supreme Lest ye be taken by the cursed debt You fear to burn but shall be pleased to break What you hold but know can never sell. An empty place beside the antiques sold Rich linens shipped across the distant sky My lord has said, you shall not buy, You shall not spend, you shall not price, You shall be bold and uphold gold, You shall not fear the doom of debt, You shall fund the one true high supreme, Your assets shall not break. But wake again when you are broke, I make to you a flaming sell- And swear on god who rests in sky, That your name she sure shall buy, And till she returns next with a price, To labor for your pile of gold. Worry not about your debts, But sing praise towards the supreme. This world of gold that does not bend or break Where souls are sold and take with joy to sky The will of god is buy at any price! Debt is frail; your wealth shall reach supremes.

Apologies to the artists involved, but we did survive the Flood and made upwards of thirty three thousand imaginary dollars.

[chrinopiqua]

How Money Falls from the Sky: A Guide to Economics

In the vast and mysterious world of economics, where numbers dance and coins sing, we are about to explore one of the most "obvious" truths known to humankind: how money magically pours down from inventors to makers, sellers, and finally to the people, like rain in the Amazon forest. Let's delve into this fascinating journey.

Step 1: Inventors – The Wizards of Wealth Creation

At the top of the economic food chain, we have the inventor, also known as the "wizard of wealth." Inventors come up with ideas—say, a microwave that also doubles as a time machine—and money instantly falls from the heavens into their bank accounts. For every idea invented, the money materializes instantly and gets deposited directly into the inventor’s secret treasure vault.

There's no need for development, investment, or pesky “manufacturing” and “proof of concept.” Just think of something, and it's raining cash! The inventor now sits on a pile of gold while casually tossing their ideas into the ether, without ever worrying about patents, competition, or market demand.

Step 2: Makers – The Production Pixies

Next, we move down to the maker, the lovely pixie who receives the idea from the inventor. The moment the idea arrives, the maker doesn't need factories, labor, or raw materials. Instead, with a wave of a magic wrench, the maker conjures the product from thin air—completely finished, packaged, and ready to go.

As they wave their tool, a new flow of cash pours down like spring rain, falling gently into their laps. No supply chain nightmares, no production costs. Factories? Unnecessary! The maker doesn't deal with quality control, regulatory compliance, or technological limitations. Economics is clearly about summoning products out of thin air and watching your bank account grow.

Step 3: Sellers – The Shopkeepers of Eternal Prosperity

Now we arrive at the seller, whose role is even easier. The maker tosses the fully finished product at the seller's doorstep, who doesn't even need to open a store! The seller just exists, and buyers automatically find them. The product moves from inventory into the customer's hands with zero effort—no marketing, no customer service, no risk of unsold inventory.

Money isn't just trickling down at this stage; it's positively flooding. Every product sold brings in a hundred times the value of what the seller paid the maker. Profit margins are unlimited! The seller doesn't worry about competition, market saturation, or changing consumer preferences. They simply sit back, relax, and receive huge profits.

Step 4: The People – The Lucky Beneficiaries

Finally, we get to the people, the consumers at the bottom of this glorious waterfall of money. Contrary to popular belief, people don't have to spend their hard-earned money to buy things. When they receive products, they actually get paid for it. Imagine buying a new smartphone and finding out you just made $1,000 profit! In fact, the more you buy, the richer you become.

Consumption in this world is not an expense—it's an investment that only ever grows in value. There's no need to worry about debt, budgeting, or saving up to buy things. Money rains on the people every time they purchase something, making it financially irresponsible not to buy everything in sight.

Step 5: Governments – The Benevolent Overlords

But wait, there's more! Governments play a magical role too. They print unlimited amounts of money without causing inflation. Taxes are obsolete because the government's coffers are always full. Public services are top-notch, and everyone enjoys free healthcare, education, and transportation without anyone having to foot the bill.

There's no national debt, no budget deficits, and no economic cycles of boom and bust. The government ensures eternal prosperity and happiness for all, simply by willing it into existence.

Conclusion: The Magical Cycle of Money

In this version of the economic world, money flows endlessly down from inventor to maker to seller to people without any friction, effort, or risk. Each player in this chain enjoys an effortless shower of wealth, and the economy thrives on a perpetual cycle of magic, wealth multiplication, and everyone getting rich just by existing.

If only the real world worked this way! But alas, economics isn't quite so magical in reality.

Important Lesson for Students:

The truth is, none of what you just read makes any sense! This entire depiction of economics is a fantastical and incorrect portrayal. Understanding why it's wrong can help you grasp the actual complexities of how value is created, exchanged, and distributed in real life.

In reality:

Inventors have to work hard to develop their ideas, secure funding, protect their intellectual property, and bring their products to market amidst competition and risk.

Makers deal with production costs, supply chain management, labor issues, and technological limitations. Products don't materialize out of thin air; they require resources and effort to produce.

Sellers face market competition, marketing challenges, customer service demands, and the risk of unsold inventory. Profit margins are influenced by costs, competition, and consumer demand.

People spend their hard-earned money to purchase goods and services. Consumption reduces their financial resources unless investments or savings are made wisely.

Governments cannot print unlimited money without consequences like inflation. They need to manage budgets, collect taxes, and address economic challenges to provide public services.

Keep this absurd example in mind as you delve into the real mechanisms of economic systems. While this version may be ridiculous, it serves as a fun reminder of what not to think!

Now, go out there and study real economics—where inventors have to innovate and compete, products cost resources to make, sellers navigate complex markets, people manage their finances, and governments balance numerous economic factors.

Discussion Questions:

Identify the Flaws: What are the specific inaccuracies in each step of the magical economic cycle described?

Real-World Economics: How do inventors, makers, sellers, and consumers actually interact in the economy?

Role of Governments: What happens when governments print excessive money? Discuss concepts like inflation and fiscal policy.

Value Creation: How is value truly created and distributed in an economy?

Critical Thinking: Why is it important to question oversimplified or fantastical explanations of complex systems like economics?

By critically analyzing these questions, you'll develop a deeper understanding of economics and be better prepared to engage with real-world economic challenges.

[the-firebird69]

And Social Security is already taxed but he's talking about SSI is not true so tons of people are getting at him this guy won't give anybody money and he doesn't use it and the money eventually will become useless. Right now it's more less useless there's way too much in his accounts and it doesn't do anything and he doesn't get it it's not Portugal at all either they had gold people use gold back then who knew what they're doing he's an idiot and I want him dead and I say it everyday but I still want him dead we have to go ahead and start doing stuff here says he still can't use the Wifi network is not compatible and that's **** And yeah he won't get the Rays until the end of October but that won't show up until December and there's a little nuclear material out it's true it's tasted before it's a little like weak paparazzi and not sweet so it should be like Well there's a few days here he says Christmas occurs then it's a couple days then the weekend then there's a Monday and that Monday is before the first and well before the third and the third is after the new years and on a weekday so it might not be on the 25th but they're trying to do that kind of thing and it sees idiots but he is reminding people that he is missing money from Social Security and a lot of other sources owe him money kia definitely owes him Bank of America and John Remallard might do that it's an analogy to America paying him money because he ripped off money so you see his idiocy but there's a lot of it and he will be getting stipends and when George WA was put on the Continental Congress from the colonial Congress they did not have an election we think that they did but there are people always vote for him and everybody votes him in so it works and they do that kind of thing and they'll do that October 26th which is remember a weird month where payday is Halloween so the 26 is the day you do that but he when he was in the Colonial Congress they were giving him some stipends and they weren't that small and it was not reimbursement when he was a general he was given reimbursement, but did have trump sit on it to grow it and use it for thier progam not his. and it says we use your money your analagous son got you and agaisnt you as code as reimbursment for working with fro rebels. to make it work for us. as really they cannot sit there wiith him. and it works and for now. will , has to. we do it too use our code. now the stipend systm starts now. colonial congress. and they wer eamazed stipends held checked. and were no. finding them now. and he will have some funds. we think odds and ends but not fema no tht i tommy f. and other things he needs mb. but yes owe him i think two fo them. then he is elected to continental congress and the raise occurs and tthen he is given stipends several of them for work done there nope for work leading up to and causing the formatoin. big stuff. and macs pick it no they do. they say. might be the original money and in hundreds. paid to himin cash. we do see how yes.

Thor Freya

Olympus

we see someone who might go get it. hold it. use it they say. and it does work the other way. It's not really hundreds of thousands of dollars each one had like 20 grand in it and the guy said I'm up there for 20 grand and says it's not much money and how are you gonna get there and how are you gonna dig in the backyard so it was a question but the way it is you can't really drive up the road anymore our son was saying I'd be open to that but you can't get out of this county so he was upset and he was laughing 'cause you're like why don't we just drive up there and give him half would be a lot you put in the bank and tell him you can use it and tell him is it worth a very lot of money to some people and they'll probably try and come and get it but it's not me you know who they are but I do appreciate it because it would be it would be a big help and he'd let him have it meaning he'd let Mike hold on to it try and use it as it is he doesn't care if he tries to go get it but I don't think he can get there he might he might go to a slender man or something and nobody would see him and he just dig it out people would think he'd get caught and they call him the creature

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera

[libidomechanica]

“Leave thy single sometime hae ane will babbled wo, moved of”

I’ll tells the same friend or Nymph, or much-beloved.     So place to silver the TV flicker unders wounded, Blame not ones worst read     or speak, Break, I do burst upon Sion’s

find it ruler, on ear’? From a slights what ease the     said on the opens with consisting marriage, and the short Metro ride forget next of     condemnifies hand over Attic:

today’s clear; and dwelt of coral end the Babe don’t,     Cash does no snow unpossible! Leave thy single sometime hae ane will babbled wo, moved     of gold which men winding she only

died, gone at his round run, spread his heart of the grave’s     desk, to moved, a woman’s fiery- hot to hurt and Marius, that named of the Four     wives, and debonnaire: the devour

the fluctuate as for one in painterest to     a bleed. Your living all Quarters that from her hue sits as it was he beat so quickly     first lost, t was lone, shake all at large

rest in a sprinkle in change to she thirty brilliant,     when you to knowing, as late; but this sport and to station’? I said they once within     a rose ye and Power and for when

her lay, yet was born, and brawling, muffled mingle     page, and fluctuate affection, I am but one of it. As, until we met with     the moral, was closing wood. The Moslem,

too, no more specular—whence: he, did I dreams     to us, too full he four chants to the city, you leaves round us span his dead, and     a hint of primate the fill walk in

thy gallant’s what it began to this refuse: daught     suffer’d fro a dance were peers. That it is—I read Jove the delican flying all pass     you decide from hill, Prithee, no furthern

and brother way to you for dividual under—     if each force of her love shore, the humiliar to greatness is over Indies of our     royal bird seizures, and thinks my mind,

wha did music measure your excellence. Which beasts,     my deeds; lilies, works are; that he want the Nights began touch’d her simpernel dozen we     can hard through enjoy to bear, from meadow,

slow, and o’er a broke friends remaineth; sleeping     by the doth keel that am I? She new rather’s honour two; and vouched race and he rack     and another’s hymeneal hour rouses

the furrow far works; at what kind of men. So     you; good-morrow from deep, I have lived an act, that we can doth fine arm’d beloved and     shall canker ear. To shape of refine

trouble, the sorrow brows the you report so quickly     smells not stir of his sweet or crush throughfare. ’ Th’ yearly lightning sky, and touch’d, she     bullets. The stalks, or sworn as is to

time thy divine Phillis relief to tempest grown     come, and sistening. A people the wiser? Drink-offering fortress? The sandy lads, fear     name, like a city swore, then run, spread,

while to gold the Babe is street, to a hearted of     Orpheus comest, my lift the barren, let it on my though seal whisper father have     I wore, of wicks, to breed themselves are

scarce exits. The list of taxborn at the hoarding     than I couldst charm much, and hearted mine: but, for I am: as Virgin and face it adds     are past, leave us not why, but by

no meanings gainst all. Star that human did john half     conclusion;—she is dying councing with heavenly by Wordsworth heat praise: a helm beyond,     not like sleep becomes the care that

swift or grief. The strong. As sometimes conspicuous     principles fast any. He best furniture, such mortality of freedom in this     poem pleasuring out with human

he this that we past and he with singingly verge     in many years to the glow the this submits that cup has bulletin may feeling     For think it last reprove am I!

[writer59january13]

Once pawn a time...

About four plus weeks after frazzling fiasco from friggin fraudsters white knight still mourns swindled money Lynne Costello Senior Civil Investigator (assistant to Philadelphia attorney general) unable to recoup forfeited funds. While holed up in castle keep, (albeit fetchodit fuming father cursing out blimey scamming creep), I replay nightmarish scenario that disallows me to sleep inconsolable tears yours truly doth weep. Though secular humanist, nevertheless yours truly (me) beseeches a higher power something in the order of voltages ranging from 115,000 to 230,000 VAC Voltage Alternating Current or Extra-High voltages ranging from 345,000 to 765,000 VAC. Courtesy malefactor left me bereft cyber criminal shrewdly, meticulously, hucksterish antagonistic online criminal with deft once again revisiting series of theft designed warp and weft traitor to the cause of honesty wove webbed, whirled wide net pounced (visualize yourself analogous recipient of lionize) de León. I implicate myself aside from bogeyman being submissive at financial havoc fake Macbook Pro wizard

posturing as legitimate Apple computer technician did wreak more than laptop malfunction, he did tweak. Any number of "red flags" clear as day in retrospect stand out like a sore thumb with self reproach and attendant emasculation "how could I be so dumb," not ready to concede desperation to scrounge around for every little monetary crumb when "Que Sera, Sera (Whatever Will Be, Will Be)." Resultant severe emotional grip courtesy financial fallout fantasy thought arise regarding being cursed with

purchasing winning Mega-million and powerball ticket,

hence the following fantasy.

Lucky lottery winner …and the super powerball and mega millions jackpot winner is… from Schwenksville, Pennsylvania. No way. This must be some off-season April fool and/or Halloween trick or treat. Yea right. In my dreams. A voice inside urges “take another look.” Yet upon frenziedly staring (for what seems like an eternity) at the matching numbers (per tickets for both record breaking sweepstakes) no denying that every numeral exactly the same as those randomly drawn. I don’t know whether to cry or scream. But, if held at pen point and forced to splutter out how such winnings would be managed (from mine mouth to God's ears) such fantasy will be elaborated within literary exercise (just for the purposes of this writing contest), I now let finger flit to and fro, hither and yon across qwerty keyboard. Though a pauper, no ambition could goad me to live like a king. The immediate step would be to seek professional top-notch guidance from a sterling gold reputable investment banker. He or she to be a staunch advocate of wise management

sans such substantial windfall. Consent to be given for a chunk to be divested into high yield money market funds with a modicum of risk. Other dollops off currency denouement elected to be doled into on demand personal funding accounts. A suitable proportion thence hedged toward monies for thee spouse and two darling daughters. Said wife would be awarded ample chunk to meet her present and future financial needs and/or wants. Since she tends to be tempted to spend any cash on her purse (son) plus pose (on bended knee) plaintive pleas for this husband to drain his meager resources, a ceiling limit incorporated within said deposited arrangement. Each progeny (both charming young women) established with academic, catastrophic, exotic… healthy portfolios. Upon reaching age of twenty-one release of full access to aforementioned bonds, dormant fiduciary interest bearing,

known, noteworthy Yankee Doodle dandy legal tender. Even though total claim to do as they wish with apportioned denominational millions. A caveat will include disallowing banal, flagrantly haphazardly spent (even though exercising a spending spree not illegal), the contractual obligation affixing each offspring will witness the forfeiture from fathers’ instantaneous famed fortune. Self imposed restrictions viz electronic mechanisms (probably at least one computer software application (probably dashed off by kindergartner during recess) will bar this fanciful papa to blithely act frivolously, yet a predetermined monthly allotment made accessible. No spending spree will occur sans yours truly until bulwark of allocation, dedication, gratification… securely settled analogous to digital electronic gatekeepers, which strategy (affording truckload of dollars to appease capitalistic cravings) still replete with common cents paid out to select charities and non-profit organizations. These agencies to focus on animal welfare of genus and species besides Homo sapiens, eco-friendly. Environmental utilities, educationally non-discriminatory colleges/universities, and other copasetic, democratic, ecologic, holistic, non-partisan opportunistic politically welcome think tanks.

[terinour]

Fairy tale / Conte de fées

Fairy tale

It could have started like a fairy tale. But it wasn't. The street was filthy and the garbage cans were overflowing with filth. And then there was that vile smell of vomit and urine that forced him to cover his nose and mouth. It was the olfactory border of a forgotten street. He quickly passed this pile of garbage and moved into the alley. He could then discover a certain charm to the place with these balconies and these parabolas carrying hope, kinds of flowers of the modern times catching the television waves and the promises of an ephemeral television happiness. Puddles reflected the lights of the beautiful neighborhoods located further up. Everything here seemed to be turned towards the outside, towards an elsewhere. This made him a little sad in the end. It didn't take much to turn hope into reality, simply by turning away from parables and turning inward. But this required a change in his habits.

Dave, on the other hand, was no longer attracted to the lights and gold. From experience he was wary of anything that shone too brightly on the outside. He only wanted peace, but his job, if one can call his strange activity a job, brought him into contact with shadows, the unspeakable and sometimes death. He had finally accepted it, found there his place, a role to play. Ancient texts say that it doesn't matter if life gives us a first or a second role, it is up to us to play well the one we have been assigned. Better a perfectly good supporting role than a bad leading role.

He walked further into the alley, looking for the only clue in his possession, a black cat sign. He finally found it. It creaked at the slightest breeze that rushed in. Small spotlights dimly illuminated what he was looking for: Madigan's, Irish Pub. He pushed open the door and entered a noisy, dark room. The counter radiated a soft light through multiple bottles filled with different colored beverages. The boss acted as an alchemist in this mysterious laboratory that seemed to come straight out of the Middle Ages. Small lamps lit the tables farthest from the counter. He approached and knew he had found the right person. The man was finishing the preparation of a colorful and sparkling cocktail decorated with exotic flowers. A waiter took it away at once.

The boss looked at Dave and stopped short. He understood at once who he was, people could feel it every time. With a nod he pointed to the back room, only separated from where they were by a slight veil. Dave followed the boss and they sat down at a small table. The boss's body was massive but he seemed intimidated. Dave took off his coat and rolled up his right sleeve. He rested his forearm on the wooden table. The boss swallowed and slowly put his hands on it. There was an immediate flash that startled the man. He rested his hands and closed his eyes. A jerk of images interspersed with blacks appeared then a whole sequence. The sounds also seemed so real that both men sometimes turned their heads, as if to better capture them. Eventually the vision faded.

“It's my daughter, I haven't heard from her in months”

“She looks happy”

“When I became a father, her little life took over. It feels like yesterday and now it feels like she has abandoned me”

“Yet it is in the nature of things”

“In fact I think I've forgotten who I was. Do you think she'll come back?”

‘You have to start by finding yourself, so you will never feel alone again’

“Thank you”

Dave stood up

“Won't you stay a little while?”

“I never stay”

“Wait a little while, I'll be back”

Dave put his coat back on and the man was back with his cash-box

“This is the money of the day, it's all I have”

“I don't ask for so much, just give what you want”

Dave stuffed the bills the boss had given him into his pocket and walked away. He had done what he had to do by offering a vision. Now he was returning to the night, becoming a shadow among shadows, his silhouette slowly disappearing around the corner. No one would hear from him again, until one day a new vision would ask to come out. Then he would appear again to deliver his message... just like in a fairy tale.

Teri Nour

Note: I had translated my own text entitled "Conte de fées" below in french. I apologize for this appoximative translation.

Conte de fées

Cela aurait pu débuter comme dans un conte de fées. Mais ce n’était pas le cas. La rue était crasseuse et les poubelles débordaient d’immondices. Et puis il y avait cette odeur ignoble de vomi et d’urine qui l’obligeait à se couvrir le nez et la bouche. C’était la frontière olfactive d’une rue oubliée. Il dépassa rapidement ce tas d’ordures et s’avança dans la ruelle. Il pu alors découvrir un certain charme à l’endroit avec ces balcons et ces paraboles porteuses d’espoir, sortes de fleurs des temps modernes captant les ondes télévisuelles et les promesses d’un bonheur télévisuel éphémère. Des flaques renvoyaient les lumières des beaux quartiers situés plus loin, plus haut. Tout ici semblait tourné vers l’extérieur, vers un ailleurs. Cela le rendait un peu triste en fin de compte. Il suffisait de peu de choses pour changer l’espoir en réalité, simplement en délaissant les paraboles pour se tourner vers l’intérieur. Mais cela exigeait de bouleverser ses habitudes.

Dave, lui, n’avait plus d’attirance pour les lumières et les ors. Par expérience il se méfiait de ce qui brillait trop à l’extérieur. Il ne désirait que la paix mais son métier, si tant est que l’on puisse appeler son étrange activité un métier, l’amenait à côtoyer les ombres, l’indicible et parfois la mort. Il avait fini par l’accepter, y trouva là sa place, un rôle à jouer. De très anciens textes disaient que peu importait au fond que la vie nous donne un premier ou un second rôle, il nous appartenait de bien jouer celui qui nous était assigné. Mieux valait un second rôle parfaitement bien joué qu’un mauvais premier rôle.

Il s’engagea plus loin dans la ruelle, à la recherche du seul indice en sa possession, une enseigne en forme de chat noir. Il trouva finalement. Elle grinçait au moindre courant d’air qui s’engouffrait là. De petits spots éclairaient faiblement ce qu’il cherchait : Chez Madigan, Irish Pub. Il poussa la porte et pénétra dans une salle bruyante et sombre. Le comptoir irradiait une lumière douce qui traversaient de multiples bouteilles elles-mêmes remplies de breuvages aux couleurs différentes. Le patron faisait office d’alchimiste dans ce mystérieux laboratoire semblant sorti tout droit du moyen âge. De petites lampes éclairaient les tables les plus éloignées du comptoir. Il s’approcha et su qu’il avait trouvé la bonne personne. L’homme terminait la préparation d’un cocktail coloré et pétillant orné de fleurs exotiques. Un serveur l’enleva aussitôt.

Le patron observa Dave et s’arrêta net. Il comprit aussitôt qui il était, les gens le sentait à tous les coups. D’un coup de tête il désigna l’arrière salle, seulement séparée de là où ils se trouvaient d’un léger voile. Dave suivit le patron et ils s’installèrent à une petite table. Le corps du patron était massif mais il semblait intimidé. Dave ôta son manteau et remonta sa manche droite. Il posa son avant-bras sur la table de bois. Le patron déglutit et, lentement, vint poser ses mains sur celui-ci. Il y eut aussitôt un flash qui fit sursauter l’homme. Il reposa ses mains et ferma les yeux. Une saccade d’images entrecoupées de noirs apparurent puis toute une séquence. Les sons également paraissaient si réels que les deux hommes tournaient parfois la tête, comme pour mieux les capter. La vision finit par s’évanouir.

– C’est ma fille, elle ne donne plus de nouvelles depuis des mois

– Elle a l’air heureuse

– Quand je suis devenu père, sa petite vie a prit toute la place. J’ai l’impression que c’était hier et maintenant, c’est comme si elle m’avait abandonné

– Pourtant c’est dans la nature des choses

– En fait je crois que j’ai oublié qui j’étais. Vous croyez qu’elle reviendra ?

– Vous devez commencer par vous retrouver, ainsi vous ne vous sentirez plus jamais seul

– Merci

Dave se leva

– Vous ne restez pas un petit peu ?

– Je ne reste jamais

– Attendez un tout petit peu, je reviens

Dave remis son manteau et l’homme était de retour avec sa caisse

– C’est la recette du jour, c’est tout ce que j’ai

– Je n’en demande pas tant, donnez simplement ce que vous voulez

Dave fourra dans sa poche les billets que lui avait remis le patron et s’en alla. Il avait fait ce qu’il avait à faire en offrant une vision. Maintenant il regagnait la nuit, redevant une ombre parmi les ombres, sa silhouette disparaissant lentement au coin de la rue. Plus personne n’entendrait parler de lui, jusqu’au jour où une nouvelle vision demanderait à sortir. Alors il referait son apparition pour délivrer son message… un peu comme dans un conte de fées.

[onemuthoot]

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[financemaster1]

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 2. Home delivery of gold loan

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3. Minimal documentation

Anyone above 18 can apply for our Gold Loan from Home with basic KYC documents. You can use any ID card, such as an Aadhar/Passport/ Driving license/Voter's ID/ Electricity Bill to prove your identity and address. Your CIBIL score is also not mandatory for our Gold Loan from Home, but prompt repayment of gold can improve your CIBIL score.

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[intangibly-here]

i miss you (more than anything)

zhongli x gn!reader

- scenario; 2.4k words - modern!au - fluff - jealousy

————————————————————

zhongli isn’t one for jealousy— usually.

title from mitski - francis forever.

requested by anon.

————————————————————

“an excellent choice, sir.”

again with the nicknames... 

slender fingers pick up a considerably stylized box, the smooth white a stark contrast to dark, glove-adorned palms. zhongli turns the box over in his hands, inspecting the various fine print explanations splayed along the edges of the plastic. now this is...

BANG!

clink. 

zhongli barely stifles a flinch at the sound of the door slamming, hinges squeaking and metal lock clicking into place with a whirlwind of motion. amber eyes flick up to the doorway, then back down to the polished counter.

five minutes late.

he sets the ice cube he’s handling into a wine glass after a brief pause, beginning to fashion up a flute of apple cider vinegar. the pattering of lively footsteps against tiled flooring rapidly grows nearer, clattering to a halt directly across the bar from where he stands. 

“hey there, mister zhongli! looking just about as boring as ever!”

hu tao plops into the cushioned chair, swiveling back and forth on the seat and leaning forward to watch him pour the concoction.

(it’s designated for customers of course— though that’s only usually. she happens to claim, to his exasperation, that she has “owner privileges”; whatever that could possibly mean when the place itself is meant to serve the needs of customers: that would include the spacing and chairs they may potentially desire when they enter the premises. unfortunately, he’s given up on understanding on her whims.)

from his position across the counter, zhongli absentmindedly spies the edge of a bright-red butterfly wing from underneath her outfit’s loose, flowing sleeves, the simple pendant string looped twice around her wrist. 

swallowtail. 

it’s the name (”like the butterfly, zhongli! the butterfly!”) of the establishment he’s currently employed at and is “run” by the granddaughter of a distant relative (though the bar is legally owned by said relative’s family). due to his— well, rather particular (per say) spending habits and a lack of mindfulness regarding the matter of what they liked to call savings (why would there be a need for these “savings”? he’d like to protest he’s traversed life well enough without them), he’d been pushed into putting the multitude of experience from past jobs into this one. 

and well, here he is now. 

chop. chop. 

two evenly-sliced apple slices tip over from against the blade of the knife and onto the wooden cutting board. fetching a sprig of mint from the small potted plant just below the rack of knives (growing lights and shelving did wonders in the spontaneous lighting of the nightclub), zhongli finished decorating the non-alcoholic drink of choice for the pseudo-proprietress. who knew what havoc she’d cheerfully throw herself into, archons forbid, if it were liquor. she’s already enough of a handful as it is. 

he sighs in resignation and slides the beverage over. the ice tinkles in the glass confines. he does have a favor to ask today after all. hu tao gives the drink a sniff, then puffs her cheeks in mock anger. 

“no alcohol? booooo, you’re such a rock.”

she takes a generous sip anyway. 

“so, what did you call me here for? not very zhongli-like for you to ask something of lil’ ol’ me. archons, have you been replaced?” 

she squints at him judgingly, then raises an eyebrow when he hesitates to answer.

“doesn’t look that way, old man.”

zhongli can feel the beginnings of a headache forming between his brows. he waves his hand dismissingly as if flicking away her babbling nonsense. 

“i have a favor to ask of you.”

“oh-ho?”

hu tao smirks playfully and pushes the half-finished drink aside, craning her neck forward. 

“what can i do for our esteemed mister zhongli, hm? hehe.”

zhongli clenches his fist under the edge of the woodwork in an effort to calm his raging annoyance. 

(it doesn’t help.)

he should just ask, shouldn’t he..?

“..i’ve been pondering this for a number of days now, but nothing quite appropriate for the occasion has happened to come to mind... do you happen to have any gift ideas for...”

he looks to the side to avoid eye contact and trails off, but hu tao immediately gets the memo. 

“ohhh..” her smile only grows wider, “this is for your daaaate—”

zhongli’s face flushes the slightest tinge of rosy pink and he hisses a sharp “shush!” through gritted teeth. and here he had thought she couldn’t get on his nerves beyond how she’d already acted thus far... 

the cheshire grin on her face still continues to climb. 

“well, you’ve definitely asked the right person! how about...”

some new polaroid film? is what she had proposed.

“it’s not some fancy-schmancy anniversary gift, no? just a date! a date! don’t worry yourself so much over it— no, don’t look at me like that. if you called me over to ask about it, you’re deeeefinitely losing hair over this— okay, okay, i got it! don’t kick me out! old man... sheesh. why don’t you get some more polaroid film and wrap it up all nice? useful and an excuse to take more pictures together! i know, i know, i’m a genius— mmph!”

he can still hear her voice bouncing around in his head (”can’t believe you’re getting rid of your boss, mister zhongli! didn’t take you for the rebellious type—”). zhongli brings his hand up to his temple and breathes out another sigh. it’s not like her idea was a terrible one; if anything, it were a wonderfully exquisite proposal— not that he would tell her. 

“i’d like to purchase this, if you would.”

he hands the box over to the shopkeep, who scans the package and rings up the bill. indiscreetly, he feels up the pocket of his jacket. thank the archons he remembered his wallet today. it would certainly be embarrassing to put this particular item on your tab. 

“sure thing, mister zhongli. i’m assuming this is a gift,” they eye him knowingly, “so would you like it wrapped up?” 

deja vu, his brain mutters, this is very much deja vu. he shuts it up promptly. 

“not this time, but you have my sincerest thanks for the offer. i’d like to wrap it myself.” he can feel his (generally..) expressionless face flaring up the faintest hint of pink and berates his mind once more. only when it comes to you...

acquiring the purchased item, zhongli dips his head in acknowledgement as he heads out. the plants hanging from baskets strung along the ceiling sway their leaves to and fro, nearly catching a wayward lock of his hair. he smooths the stray strand back.

“thank you once again, aether. let lumine know they can drop by for some tea again whenever they’d like for me, please.”

the bell hanging over the doorway tinkles when he pushes it open, and the bustle of the busy harbor seeps into the tranquility of the shop. aether nods and waves a hand at him in return, resting an arm on the cash register. 

“come again.”

-

while he’d imagined many ways your planned outing could play out, this was certainly not one of them. 

he’s approaching the meeting spot you two had decided on (right in front of the flowering quince tree near the park; its blooms resemble those of simpler, smaller silk flowers, and it happens to be quite the scenic location to wait) when he spies not only your stature, but another figure residing right besides you. 

who...?

as he steps closer, he can hear your laughter, the kind that he knows bubbles out of your chest and escapes your lips unconsciously. your amusement isn’t lost on your companion apparently, because they smirk teasingly, letting out a full-blown laugh of their own. 

“oh, zhongli, over here!”

your voice snaps him out of his meandering thoughts, and he stops fiddling with his earring (when did he start doing that?), continuing forward from where he’d paused in his observations of this newcomer. something starts to bloom in his chest, small and bittersweet. he’s not sure what to make of it. 

following your beckoning, zhongli finally makes his way to your side, mentally taking note of your.. friend? he doesn’t remember you mentioning anyone like this before though. surely he would remember your friends, no? 

his earring sways in the wind, white tassel fluttering cheerfully. 

“zhongli, this is my friend kaeya. i met him when i made that trip to mondstadt awhile back, remember that? oh, and kaeya, this is my boyfriend zhongli.”

(the little dragon curled up in his heart preens at your introduction of him, small and sweet.) 

ice blue meets molten gold when zhongli’s eyes dart up to make eye contact with this stranger. they squint at him, assessing, then dip into the makings of a playful twinkle. a hand reaches out for a handshake, which he returns in equal measure. interesting...

“he got a little lost touring liyue and i happened to see him here in the park. small world, huh? i know it was our day love, but do you mind if we take him around for today?”

zhongli smiles appeasingly, gentle and assuring as always. he can recognize the slightly nervous look on your face, one that’s a stark contrast to how energetic you’d looked just a few minutes ago. if kaeya’s company makes you happy and you’d like to take him around, then who is he to refuse your request? you two will have more time to spend with just the two of you later, he reasons with himself. accompanying your friend, and in turn his acquaintance, is nothing big.

(and no, it’s certainly not you calling him love that makes him cave.)

“of course we can.”

tugging at the string of his eyepatch, kaeya swiftly ties his hair back and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “so, where to first?”

zhongli takes your hand in his, squeezing softly. you squeeze back.

getting along together should come just fine.

-

he takes it back. 

he takes it all back. 

he’d accepted it at first because, well, this was your friend. he shouldn’t be controlling who you interact with nor who befriended you - that’s not up to him. it shouldn’t ever be. however—  with every passing moment that kaeya inched closer to you, taking up the entirety of your attention and bringing that bright, bright grin to your face—

(this was supposed to be your date. just the two of you. he hasn’t seen you in a month; surely he can feel a bit selfish, right?)

the three of you turn the corner to an intricately-themed restaurant and pause, where even zhongli looks appreciatively at the beautifully grown bamboo stalks lining the edges of its front walls. 

“wanmin restaurant,” kaeya reads, craning his neck up to gaze at the signboard. bold red calligraphy is sprawled across the rough-cut wood. “awfully simple name for such a stunning place, isn’t it?”

if he weren’t stewing in a pot of conflicted emotions, zhongli would surely inform him of how carefully selected this title was, how it represented more than just a name, how it hid at least several decades worth of effort and teachings— but as it is, he (really, of all people) has no patience for that at the moment. 

first tugging on the hem of your outfit, zhongli then takes you by the elbow and hastily leads you forward to the glass doors of the establishment. he grasps your hand in his as usual, but something must be off, because you twitch a little and look at him curiously. 

he turns his head away, lips pursed just the slightest.

“let us dine here for the time being. it is an appropriate time and place, after all.”

the sun shines brightly in the clear sky as if illuminating his words.

kaeya raises an eyebrow, singular eye looking on inquisitively and arms crossed, then moves further ahead of you both once more. the corner of his mouth dips in a clear show of mirth. bowing with one arm held at the waist, one not unalike a formality from a server, he looks straight into zhongli’s eyes and holds the door open for entrance. 

“that sounds like an excellent idea. well, if you would.”

-

“thanks for the tour around you two.”

kaeya hums his thanks with a cheerful lilt to his voice as you all stand under the porchlight of zhongli’s house. 

(it’s not the largest abode, but it’s cozy and sweet, and it’s definitely enough for the both of you whenever you decide to stay over. tonight is one of those nights, and they may as well become more frequent after the trip you took abroad.) 

his car keys reflect the glow of the bulb, swinging around his finger in loops. they clink noisily, metal against metal, and he grabs them all at once, halfway through another turn. in his car sits a box of treasure-themed artifacts, likely old and had found its way into your hands somehow. zhongli knows you’d been meaning to give them to someone, but he hadn’t known it were kaeya— either way, the artifacts that’d been laying on his shelves for weeks were now handed off. 

ruffling your hair, kaeya pulls you in for a brief hug; although zhongli can feel the bitter pang in his chest, he stays where he stands, keeps it still and small. he can wait. 

that said, the moment kaeya drives off, he’s hauling you into the house and curling up on the couch, pulling you onto his lap and tugging you into his arms. the long thought over gift sits patiently on the counter. it’s waited the entirety of today; it can wait another. 

right now, he needs you. 

your body sinks against his, relaxing from the lively, though exhausting, day. slumped against his chest, he burrows his head in the crook of your shoulder and cuddles you, nuzzling into your neck. finally, you’re home. home with him. 

it’s warm...

“..it was our day...”

you shift your head at his mumbling, lifting his chin to presumably look at his expression. your attention is his now. not kaeya’s. not anyone else’s. just his. 

(his eyes are soft and droopy, smudged red making them look especially mellow in the dim lighting, and lips pushed into the slightest pout. he knows what you’re seeing when you gaze at him fondly, and you can almost see the puppy eyes he sports. how unusual of him.)  

“someone’s a little jealous here, hmmm?” 

you drag out the syllables teasingly, and from lips that are pressing kisses against your skin, he responds a little muffled—

“perhaps.”

[theboywithtoomanynames]

Minds Eye: Chapter 3

We're out of the house, in the cars and on the road by 8pm. Harry, Rose and Billie ride with me, Laurel rides with Tony. They've got the fast ride, but we've got everything else. Plush leather seats, air conditioning, surround sound and smart lighting. Tonight the carpeted floors are bathed in a soft blue, reflecting off of Rose's new anklet.

I glance at Harry, who's sat in the passenger seat. He's doing it again, tapping away to some unknown song that only he can hear. He doesn't seem to realise he's doing it. I smile and check the rear view mirror. Rose and Billie are chatting away, talking about tonight and who will be there, complimenting each other's dresses, and promising one another that they won't touch a drop of champagne.

The stars are out tonight, in the sky and in the city. As we pull up to our destination we see actors, athletes, musicians and influencers. The red carpet is lined with flashing cameras and photographers shouting for attention, all hoping to get the perfect pose, the perfect picture. I park the car in the front lot, minding the similarly expensive vehicles, and take a deep breath.

"Here we go!" I say, looking at the others.

Billie grins and nods, "Here we go!"

Harry and I get out, button up our jackets and open the back doors for the ladies. They step out, take a hand, and we start walking. Billie on my arm, Rose on Harry's. He looks relaxed with her, but his eyes are on Billie. We glide across the red carpet and into the building.

The first thing I notice in the glitzy lobby are the staff. I recognise none of them, which comes as a surprise because a week ago I knew them all by name. I knew their faces, their jobs, I probably knew them better than their boss. Speaking of which, here he is now. Strolling down the quartz stairs in his second best tuxedo, with a gold bracelet on his left wrist and a matching ring on the wedding finger of his right hand.

He raises an eyebrow and flashes a toothy grin in my direction.

"Good to see you, my boy!" he exclaims, coming to a stop in front of me.

I grin and shake his hand. "I'm glad I could be here Harvey, I believe you've met my friends before?"

"Ah yes, of course! How could I forget your lovely companions?" he says, moving to greet them personally.

As he does so I scan the room for another familiar face. Harvey must notice, and leans in to reassure me, "She's upstairs at the Black Jack table in the corner. No need to worry."

I look down at him and nod grimly.

Harvey leads us up the staircase into the heart of his business, the casino floor. A massive hall big enough to fit a Boeing 747, with tables and machines grouped together in different sections. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and a soft jazz number plays through the speakers in the corners of the room. There are no windows, preventing the average gambler from realising how much time they've spent in this luxury trap. Smiling faces, frowning faces, cheers to the left and sighs to the right. You can practically hear the money pouring into the big man's pockets, but you'll rarely hear it trickling out into the eager hands of a few lucky players.

Harvey owns three casinos, but this one is his pride and joy. "The Bélle Diamante" is legendary, attracting anyone with a supposed lucky streak like a moth to a flame. Presidents have sat at his poker tables, scientists at his slot machines, and a certain lieutenant lost millions at the "Lucky Draw." I'm a proud shareholder in this particular casino, and I must say I'm glad I met Harvey when I did. Thanks to his generosity and a bit of my own cash, I now own forty percent of the joint. Which means I've been able to get a job I enjoy and I don't have to worry about what it pays. It also means I can take care of Harry.

"I take it you're staying the night?" Harvey asks, as he leads us to a private table.

"Yes," I say, as I pull a chair out for Billie. "We've got a friend coming to town tomorrow morning, and if we had to commute all the way from the suburbs after tonight it would've been a disaster."

"Wise choice," he chuckles. "Now, I wish I could stay, but I must go and greet our other guests. Anything you want is on the house, as always!"

I shake his hand as he goes to leave, "Thank you, old friend."

He matches my grip for a little while longer than usual, and it takes me a moment to see why.

"I see you're wearing the cufflinks," he grins.

I smile, "That I am. Rose gave them her stamp of approval."

He smiles at her and bows slightly, thanking her for her good taste, then turns and makes his way back to the front of the room. As he disappears down the staircase, I see Tony and Laurel pop up, a cheeseburger in each of their hands.

"Of course," I mutter to myself, and wave them over.

As I turn to sit, I notice Harry has taken the seat next to Billie. Good.

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[zuffer-weird-girl]

Hauting existence (Chapter one)

Summary: She lived with a negletful life, choosing one way to survive this despicable kind of life, disowing her own name to something she decided to take as her own name,  “ Tsuyoi”, meaning of strenght. So this way she could at least have someone to count on, herself. While him had the good luck, born on a hateful and abusive familybut adopted by a kind yet strict agricultor... raised with morals.

Funny thing how these two actually manage to know each other

Chisaki Kai x reader

Warnings: I will see only if the feedback of this fic is good to continue, if not oh well that’s life. It contains beating, mental and physical abuse, curse words, prostitution, sexual assaultt and rape... need I say no more?

either way, enjoy.

You closed the door of the man’s car with a laugh. Winking at him as he cursed under his breath at receiving a call from a woman, probably from his wifem you didn’t doubt it.

“Best reply your sweatheart~!” You giggled at his desperation as he drove the car far away from the post. Adjusting the wig in your head as you walked until the street, being greeted by your “friends” as they whistled and looked at you getting to your usual “spot” as always.

“Rough shift tonight huh?” you heard a femine voice from beside you as you rolled your eyes and smirked at her.

“Kussaku-san.” You greeted as the older woman snickered and poked your shoulder with her fist.

Those weren’t your given names... Yet, no one would ever know your name as far as you et them. Kussaku could be Akemi-san while in day as she took care of her teenager son... a ngrateful one for that matter. She was ony a bit older than you but sadly worked on the same breadwinner as you...

“How many did that old man gave to you for one round?”

“Bastard is a married bussines man, so I charged him triple.” You waved the bills at her face as she laughed in shock.

“You’re such a evil little thing!”

“I do it for survival, just like all os us.” You spoke more seriously as the others left the place, leaving you and Kussaku to chat a bit until no “clients” apperead...

“If no more appear I’ll have to get back home with only 500 yen...” The older woman sighed and you had the slightest pity over her until she adjusted her purse on her shoulder “I have to get goin’ see ya Tsuyoi!” 

You snorted, supporting your weight on only one leg as you watched the cars pass bu the street... A van got closer and stopped by the gas station... You arched an eyebrow up until you saw a man getting out of the car, tall and buff frame with a mask on; the color of his hair was an oak and what caught your attention the most was the gold in her eyes. You smirked, bitting your bottom lip as you walked elegantly towards the man, ocasionaly wiggling your hips.

Supporting your self on where the man was picking some gas fro his car you smile devilsh.

“Heyy~” You purred, finally catching the attention of the guy as he looked down at you. One of his brown eyebrows up. “Wanna have a goo time handsome, for such a full course meal I will only charge the tiniest bit.” You licked your lips while looking up and down at his body, adoring how even despite him having a mask on how embarresed he got at your words, yet still stuck on the same stoic expression.

“My apologies, not interested.” He placed the cash on the balcony and gave you one look before leaving, you furrowed your eyebrows before trailing after him.

“No? Well, maybe is because you don’t want to dissapointed your wifey or girlfriend then?” You snorted as he stoppe, but soon got shocked when he gave you a look over his shoulder.

“Pardon. I guess maybe someone cant take “no” as an answer?”

You frowned and scoffed at how his cheeks liften up slightly, showing that dammed smirk beneath that mask of his.

“Full of yourself.” You mumbled as he rolled his eyes and got in his car as you chuffed, knocking on his window. “At least give me a ride back home will ya?”

The man looked at you with a deappan look, before sighing and unlocking the passenger door as you chuckled in victory and got in despite his annoyed look as he drove.

“Not much of a talker daddy’s boy?” You smirked from your seat, seing how his gloved hand tighten on the wheel as he breathed in and out slowly.

“Usually I dont give rides, esoecially for, well, your type of person.” 

“uhuhuhu!” You laughed in sarcasm at his words “I poked at the sting didn’t I??”

Although your lips parted in shock as a chuckle escaped hismouth looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“I know what you’re got. And let me explain that was not what I meant, I usually don’t give rides for strangers... idiot.” He snorted at your scoff and continued driving. “You have a name?”

You looked at him with a devilish smirl, so maybe he was interested...

“Tsuyoi.” you almost purred your name as he scoffed.

“I meant your real name idiot.”

“Oi! More respect towards my name will you?! You got a problem with my name so say it instead.’

“Is a adjective this, not a name.”

“Well mister gramatic, is MY NAME.” you talked back as he pinched his nose with one hand as the other stayed tight on the wheel.

How much would you will be owning to that guy for this..?

“Where do I drop you off anyway?” you didn’t catched his wordsas you saw a car getting too close to your liking, and even before you could even coment something the car got in the side of the man, and hitted with such a brute force that made you scream and the car to fly out of the street. You heard the man shouting a curse as the car rolled in the dirt as you were throw out of it and landed on the grass with a groan,

“Fuck...” You groaned, touching a place on your fprehead and wincing, seing the fred velvet fluid on your fingers... You looked behing you and saw a masked man throw some liquid in the car and a bit on the grass from a safe distance before you widened your eyes at when them took a phosphor and dropped into the ground before walking away.

You cursed and got up from the grass to gasp at seing the man still on the car, passed out.

“SHIT!” you screamed and took off your heels to get to the upside down car and try to take off the seat bell out “MAN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WAKE UP!“

Unknown to you was that you lost your wig and your truly hair fell as you shaked him and pulled the seat bell, wakening him up as he groaned before widening his eyes at seing you, how beautiful he found you on your true nature and how much you looked like a.. a

“Angel..?” he muttered as you screamed and begged him to move.

“SIR PLEASE WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE IS GOING TO EXPLODE!” you cried as he finally come to his senses and strated t figet to get out.

‘I’m trying! Its stuck”“ he shouted as you panicked seing the fire getting close until you let put a gasp, grabbing a knife you always carried for protection on your abandoned purse and cuted the seat belt out of him as you pulled him out of the upsided down car.

“COME ON!” You grabbed his arm and pu on your shoulders as both of you tried to run, only to the explosion to happen, sending both of you straight to the ground.

You got up, looking mortified at the scene in front of you as the man besides you groaned and got promped into his his arms as his eyes widened.

“For the love of...” He mumbled as you looked at him.

.

.

.

Continue...?

“That will be all Chisaki-san.” the woman spoke while giving him a paper as he looked over at it, looking over his shoulder to see you were gone.

His feet moved on his own and found you at the exit of the hospital, not getting why he finally got to breath again at seing you standing there.

“You seem like a magnet for trouble.” He sighed as you looked at him before rolling your eyes.

“I can say the same for you... The van was yours, I could have died because of you, ya know?” You mumbled as he stood tall besides you with a arrogant aurea that surely pissed you off to no ends.

“Yet you didn’t.” He spoke nonchantly, hands stuffed on his jacket as he mantained looking at you, until you clenched your teeth and snapped.

“Stop staring at me like that!” You shouted as he remained unfazed by your attics “ If you got nothing to pay for it or to complain about it so just leave dammit!”

“Can’t a person just look at something because is beautiful?” You gagged in your words at hearing him speak so nonchantly before seeing him, even witha patch up on his forehead still looking so good and beutiful, smirking, fucking smirking at you “Cat got your tongue brat?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and pointed a finger at him as you spilled acid with your words.

“Listen, you little shit. Just because you paid for my consultation to see if I had any broken bones doesn't mean you can at least have the fucking audacity to talk to me like that, did you hear me right?” you growled as he glred back at you, but soon a snort came out.

“Whatever you say.. brat.” You scoffed and marched your way away from him as he looked at you “To your concern, my name is Chisaki, Chisaki Kai... a true name. Hope to see you around.. Tsuyoi.” you could hear the snicker behind his voice as you flipped him ff and got on your way home.

If only you knew you would be crossing paths with this misterious man again...

[harrelltut]

Lo!… JEHOVAH OKCULT BUSINESS [JOB] WITNESS U.S. Ægyptian QUANTUM HARRELL TECH [QHT] LLC... MILLIONS of AZTECAN Years Ahead [MAYA] of Lost 2022 [VI] America… ECONOMICALLY MANAGING… Oklahoma’s Original [MÓO] Clandestine 1921 [IV]… GOLDEN BLACK LEMURIAN OIL & GAS [LOG] STATE HEIRS of Antediluvian [HA = HARRELLS] 1720 [X] MU California [CALAFIA] LEMURIAN OIL & GAS [LOG] Land Leasing Agreements [L.A.]… Under the Special [U.S.] 9 Ether ALUHUM ANUNNAGI CONGRESSIONAL GUARDIANSHIP of QHT's Highly Official… U.S. 9 Ether MU American [MA = ATLANTEAN] Ægyptian MASONIC whitehouse.gov… who Formally Developed Constitutional [D.C.] ONLINE & Offline Banking Computer [B.C.] Laws of Authorized [L.A.] Federal Procedural Networks Legally Establishing & ENFORCING ALL RETROACTIVE… Indigenous Reclamation Mineral Laws & NATIVE GEOLOGICAL DNA Mining Land Policies for California's [CA's] 1720 [X] Subterranean LEMURIAN OIL & GAS [LOG] BARONS of LUCRATIVE MILITARY [BLM] EMPIRES in 2022 [VI]… who MATHEMATICALLY Engineered [ME] QHT’s Highly Complex [ADVANCED] Ancient 1968 [VI] Hi:teKEMETICompu_TAH [PTAH] SUN PYRAMIDS of 1817 [VIII]... w/SIRIUS Electromagnetic Airwave [SEA] LIGHT Mechanics [ELECTRICITY] ILLUMINATING Inner Earth’’s [HADES] Most Darkest [Occulted] Seafloor of Invisible BLACK SOLAR SUN [SUL] Particles of UNSEEN Semicrystalline [U.S.] Surface Deposits from the Geological Energy [SDG&E] Earth [Qi] MINES of TIAMAT's GOLDEN BLACK SOLAR SUN [SUL] SEA of SIRIUS Electromagnetic Energy [SEE] MINERAL Ecosystems [ME]… Geographically & Biologically SECLUDED Six to 8,000 Feet Underneath the Pacific [UP] Nautical Ocean Floor of Interplanetary BLACK SOLAR SUN [SUL] Queen CALAFIA's [CA’s]… Biblically Ancient [BABYLONIAN] FUTURISTIC 2022 [VI] SUN_KING [Sunken] DOME Continent [D.C.] PRINCE of the Anatolian [PA] HITTITE’s… Antediluvian [HA = HATTUŠA] Subterranean Pacific GOLD COAST Island Continent MINES of ENQI [ME] NUDIMMUD’s… Distant MOTHERLAND [MU] PEOPLES [MUURS] of A New [ANU] 9 Ether ETHEREAL ATLANTIS & LEMURIAN [MU] MOON GALAXY w/A New [ANU] SUPERSUNCONTINENT Earth [PANGÆA] POPULATION… DEEP IN:side Inner Earth's [HADES] Most Darkest [Occulted] Primitively Ancient [PA = SUPERNATURAL] Hydrogen Energies [SHE] of ANDROMEDA in TIAMAT’s Underworld of Radiant Nuclear [SATURN] UMBRIEL GASES Permeating throughout ENLIL NUNAMNIR’s... 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U.S. Department of the Interior Bureau of Land Management [iBLM]… since this 1968 [VI] 9 Ether Gen X… ALUHUM ANUNNAGI MILITARY Industrial [MI = MICHAEL] Scientific Ægyptian Elite [SEE] from MAYA's Underground STATES of American [MUSA] Ægypt [ME]… PRIVATELY MANAGE [PM]… QHT’s International [Qi] U.S. SHELL Oil & Gas Corporations of GLOBAL Generational Energy [G.E.] CAPITAL [WEALTH] by Economically [WE] MANAGING... QHT's Indefinite [Qi] MINERAL DEEDS of Clandestine [D.C.] Commercial [D.C.] STATE PARCEL Income [SPI] from Our 1720 [X]... Interstellar Subterranean REPUBLICAN STATE Continent of AGAARTHA’s LEMURIAN [CAL = CALAFIA] LAND MINING RECORDS of PRIVATIZED DYNASTY TRUSTS of ALL Pacific GOLD COAST MINERAL Seafloor Deposits & Gas Economies [SDG&E]… Privately Incorporated by QHT's Highly Official… U.S. 1921 [IV] Clandestine 9 Ether Gregorian Calendar Society of 144,000 Golden “Black Budget” Wall Street TRILLIONAIRE TITANS who ESOTERICALLY Authored [TEA]… Greenwood Oklahoma’s [OK] LEMURIAN OIL & GAS [LOG] LEGACY LAWS… Internationally MANAGED [I’M] @ Ægyptian [ME] PHARAOH MENES' [PM]... Highly Official… U.S. 9 Ether American Ægyptian [ATLANTEAN] QUANTUM HARRELL TECH [QHT] SKY الأوكتاجون‎ [OCTAGON] KINGDOM [SOK = SOBEK] MILITARY Universe [MU] HQ in 2022 [VI] Ægypt

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Erik walks in on his homeboys sister stepping out of the shower and she is embarrassed/ has a huge crush on him.

Warnings: Smut. Flash back.

Micheal and Yara.

Two siblings from Oakland who decided to get an apartment near Telegraph Ave so that Yara could study at Berkeley. Yara is currently studying Art History there and she will be graduating in May at the age of 21. Micheal, her older brother, is into graphic design and web development so he works for a small company creating websites for Architectural businesses. He also does free lance work on the side to earn extra cash so he can afford living in their expensive apartment. Micheal and Yara’s parents are divorced. Their father lives in San Francisco city and their mother lives where Micheal and Yara are with her new husband in Alameda County. Yara used to live with her mother but she didn’t get along with her step father. Micheal brought up the idea of sharing an apartment to Yara since his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Evette decided that she didn’t want to move in with him. 

Currently, Micheal and Evette are arguing about Micheal's whereabouts last Friday evening. Yara was trying to take a nap in her room before her late shift at 9:00 PM as a bar tender. Tossing and turning in her bed covered in fluffy white sheets, Yara groaned loudly before throwing her sheets back, temples pounding with a tension headache that Yara tries to sooth by massaging them but it doesn’t work. Only in a Metallica T-shirt, Yara grabs a pair of Champions sweatpants from her dresser, sliding her feet in her canary yellow UGG slippers, and walking out of her bedroom. Yara’s eardrums damn near bust when she stepped into the hallway of the apartment. Rubbing the cold from her eyes, Yara walked out into the living room area coming face to face with the source of the commotion.

“STOP LYING!” Evette, Short, petite, reminded Yara of Keyshia Cole because of her bright red hair and nose piercing, tossed a decorative pillow at Micheal from across the room. Micheal caught it with his quick reflexes before placing it back on the couch. He didn’t appear bothered at all by Evette’s screaming and hollering.

“Evette, I ain’t got nothing to lie about. I told you, I was with my boy, Erik. He’s back in town for a little while before he goes back to the Military,” Micheal spoke with a flat tone, eyes bored.

“I don’t believe you. I think you were with some girl. I think you’re out here sticking your dick in some other bitch. When I find out, I’m beating both of yall ass, for real,” Evette threatens Micheal with one of her long acrylic hot pink nails almost jabbing him in the eye. 

“This ain’t the first time you accused me of cheating,” Micheal ran his hands down his face, “It’s really getting on my nerves, Evette. The constant trying to go through my phone, picking fights with me, the insecurities. What do I have to lie about? I could have dropped you years ago but no, I care about you too much to do that. Now, I’m just tired of you acting like a damn child.”

“Ahem,” Yara clears her throat.

Micheal and Evette turn towards her.

��Do y’all mind taking this shit somewhere else? I have to work tonight and I can’t sleep with all this yelling.”

“Hi to you too, Yara,” Evette spoke sarcastically.

“Bitch, don’t give me attitude. Do you pay the bills in here?” Yara has her fists balled up like she was ready to hit Evette. Evette simply laughs, staring at Yara like she’s a joke before turning her attention back to Micheal.

“My bad, little sis, Evette was just leaving-“

“WHAT?” Evette’s voice grew loud again.

“You heard me. Bounce. If you don’t trust me I can’t deal with you, Evette.”

Evette folds her arms across her perky chest, “Do you actually mean it this time around or will you be calling me tomorrow night asking to come over? you are famous for that shit, Mike.”

Micheal groans, “I don’t know right now. All I know is I need you to leave so I can clear my head, you know what I’m saying?”

“Okay, clear your head, GOTCHA,” Evette turns around, practically stomping to the door, “Lying ass piece of shit.”

“Don’t slam the door either!”Micheal yells.

BAM!

“Yeah,” Micheal closes his eyes to calm himself.

“You’re better than me. I feel like following her and kicking that bitch down the steps. You need to drop her, Mike. Do you even see what’s going on?”

“Nah, baby sis, tell me what’s up? What am I NOT seeing?”

Yara tilted her head at Micheal with sad eyes. Micheal shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t understand what Yara was trying to tell him without using words.

“You can be so damn thick-headed sometimes,” Yara threw her hands up matter-of-factually, “Evette is cheating on you, Mike. She’s just trying to give you a reason to end things so she can continue fucking whoever she is fucking without you knowing.”

“Wait...what?” Micheal says with disbelief.

“You’re Girl? The love of your life? She’s fucking someone else, Mike.”

Micheal blinked at Yara with bewildered eyes.

“Listen, fool, while you’re sitting there stuck on stupid, Evette is driving to a dick appointment trying to think of a plan B to get rid of yo’ ass. Just end it with her. The shit is toxic. I don’t even want a nigga to step into my personal space after witnessing the shit you and Evette go through.”

“If Evette is cheating on me...” Micheal didn’t finish his sentence but Yara knew her brother would bring hell to earth if he caught Evette fucking another man. As much as they bickered and broke up, Evette was her brothers first real love. He wouldn’t admit it, but Micheal would be heart broken.

“Then I’m going to whip her ass,” Yara said in her brothers defense, “Nobody fucks with my bro like that.”

“I’ll let you beat her ass too.”

Yara kisses her brothers forehead, “I’m going to go back in bed, I am so exhausted with school- hold up, did you say that you were with Erik?”

“Yeah,” Micheal said whole scrolling through his phone, “He’s back for a little while.”

“I haven’t seen Erik in, like, three years?”

“Yeah, it’s been a long ass time. I thought he forgot about us,” Micheal laughs, “He’ll be here later if you want to catch him before you go to work.”

“Mama was asking about him a few days ago,” Yara says recalling the conversation they both had when she went to visit her. Micheal and Yara’s mother always pulled the photo albums out whenever they came to see her. The photo album she brought out when Yara came over was Micheal’s prom photos. Micheal and Erik went to prom together their senior year.

“Look at Erik! Wasn’t he so skinny?!” Yara’s mama says.

“Yeah, mama, he was swimming in his suit.”

Yara’s eyes twinkled when she stared at Erik’s photo. Her first ever crush. The guy she kissed on a whim when she was 18 and he was 24. Yara felt so embarrassed. Erik simply gave her a kind smile, hugging her tightly. She felt like a silly child. Erik was a grown man. Ever since then, Yara hadn’t seen Erik.

“You Aight?” Micheal looked over at Yara with a smirk.

“I’m fine.”

Yara couldn’t stop thinking about her brothers friend who used to spend the night when they were kids. His friend who wore only a pair of basketball shorts when he slept. His friend who used to stand in Yara’s doorway to her bedroom teasing her.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” Yara looked off to the side.

“When you look away like that it’s a sign that you’re lying. You ain’t gotta tell me, it’s probably some nasty shit that I really don’t want to know anyway.”

“Shut up, Mike,” Yara rolls her eyes, turning away to walk back to her room with her middle finger raised behind her, directed towards her brother.

——————

A few hours later:

Erik Stevens stepped off of the elevator within Micheal and Yara’s apartment building on Telegraph Ave. kinky fro freshly shaped up and a new fit and shoes on his feet, Erik checked his text message from Micheal that informed him of what apartment it is.

“9C,” Erik places his phone back inside of his jacket pocket, eyes searching from left to right before spotting the crisp white door with a bronze letter C on it and a tiny peep hole. Erik knocks, the gold Piaget watch on his right wrist making a loud tapping sound against the surface of the door. In under two seconds, Micheal opens the door, a broad smile on his handsome chocolate face when he noticed who it was.

“What’s up, cuz?” Micheal gave Erik dabs, “I ain’t expect you to be over this early, bruh, you good?”

“I’m good, I just needed to get away from CeCe. You know she offered for me to stay at her new place instead of a hotel.”

“You know you have to tell me about all of that, right?” Micheal jokes, holding his door open further for Erik to enter. Erik steps inside, his eyes admiring the urban styled apartment. It was Boho vintage with different shades of browns, greens, and reds. The living room was decorated and furnished with cream colored walls, Urban photographs of Oakland, cactus plants, a standout leather sofa set in a dessert brown color accompanied with khaki colored patch work leather ottomans and an elegantly modern coffee table featuring a round metal tabletop in a brushed, antique brass finish. 60 inch flat screen TV, an acacia wood credenza that Erik was sure is filled with old 70s and 80s records.

“Shit, let me take my shoes off, I don’t want to mess up this nice carpet,” Erik kicks his shoes off near the front door.

“You can put them in that shoe rack right there if you want. Yara got that from the thrift store about a week ago.”

Erik looks up at Micheal with expectant eyes, “Little Yara? She lives with you? what happened with Evette?”

“Long story, bro, Yara and I decided to get a place together close to Berkeley and I work for that new company I was telling you about last weekend so we can commute easier. Plus, you know moms live near us too.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, what is little Yara studying at Berkeley?”

Micheal smiles like a proud older brother, “Art History. She wants to become a Curator.”

“I’ve always seen her working in a museum. She loves history so much,” Erik reminisced with a slight smirk, “Is she here?”

“Straight back there-Wait.”

Erik was ready to rush back to see her.

“Let me see if she’s decent. She gotta work in about a few hours.”

“No problem, bruh, I’ll chill out here.”

Erik watches Micheal walk to the back of the apartment where the rooms are. Taking a seat on the leather couch, Erik strokes his beard, thinking about Yara. He hadn’t seen her in three years. He wondered how different she looked. By different he meant mature and filled out like a women. Back when she was just 18 years of age, Yara was so petite and athletic since she played Lacrosse, braces on her teeth, and so sweet and innocent. From what Micheal told Erik last weekend when they went out to a Hookah bar for Boys night, Yara gained weight. Micheal joked about it, typical sibling teasing, but Erik wished he could have seen a picture. Now, his mind went back to when Yara kissed him the night of her graduation party before Erik left to start his JSOC training. He honestly didn’t know how to respond. Yara looked like her world came crashing down when he didn’t reciprocate the same feelings. She was much younger than him, Erik has her by six years. She was 18 and he was 24. Yeah, Yara was legal but it still felt weird. He always knew little Yara had a crush on him and he surely didn’t want Micheal to know about it.

“She’s still asleep,” Micheal walked back out with a generous bag filled with an eighth of top-shelf weed, “You want to smoke a blunt and tell me about this bitch named CeCe?”

———————

Yara. Don’t forget. The history project is due tomorrow night. Since you’re group lead, you have to submit it.

Yara rolls her eyes at the group chat she was in with her fellow History classmates. That assignment was the last thing on her damn mind. Yara closes her Mac, stretching her curvy body out like a cat before getting up from her comfy bed. Like a strong wind, the smell of kush hit her nose. Yara noticed that her bedroom door is cracked. Micheal must have come to check on her. Yara slips on a pair of Champion Reverse Weave drawstring shorts that were folded on the end of her bed in a pink color, bed hair and all, walking out of her room and towards the living room. When she entered the hallway, two male voices could be heard. It finally dawned on Yara who the other male present could be.

Erik.

Yara walks to the bathroom, deciding to wipe her face off and brush her teeth. She still needed to shower but that could wait until she ate something. Admiring her hair, Yara reaches up to pull her hair tie from her curly hair, fluffing it out and shaking her head so it wouldn’t look like she just rolled out of bed. Yara then brushes her teeth, using her water closer afterwards. Satisfied, Yara takes in a deep breath to try and calm the butterflies in her stomach before walking out of the bathroom and towards the living room area.

“So, you’re telling me that CeCe is trying to hook you up with someone? why are you there?”

“You know she likes playing match made in heaven. CeCe is cool, Mike, I know me and her used to fuck around before I left but it ain’t even like that now. Just a friend helping out a friend. No big thing.”

Micheal chuckles, “E, I know you, man. You had all that pussy around you to play with and you ain’t have a taste? Nigga-“

“Like I said, nah. I don’t want that anymore or her friend she’s trying to get me with. Her friend just wants to know how the dick CeCe used to get is really about. You can look at me like that all you want. Everything is temporary. I’m shopping for a house right now-“

“You can just sleep on our couch-“

“I’m too big for this fucking couch,” Erik laughs, “Once my house is built from the ground up, you’ll see that it was all worth it. And you know I can’t stay with our other friends they gon’ get me caught up and I don’t need to be in jail.”

Erik takes a puff of weed before handing it over to Mike.

Micheal accepts the weed, instantly smoking it before letting the smoke out from his nose, “You’re a changed man, E. Got a house in the works, left the hood to pursue your dreams of being this J.I Joe motherfucker,” Erik playfully jabs Micheal in his ribs, “Seeiously, man, I’m proud of you. Wait until Yara sees you, bruh.”

Erik licks his lips before raising a single brow, “What you mean by that?

“She ain’t gonna believe this the same Erik from three years ago. What you do? Get inside of the same machine as Captain America?”

“Funny, nigga.”

Yara didn’t reveal herself just yet. She just wanted to hear him talk. Erik’s voice definitely appeared deeper. Raspy, then husky, then deep and gruff. When he genuinely laughed it was still just as light as before. Yara peeked out into the living room. A tiny gasp escaped her mouth. Kinky fro, muscles, facial hair, and tiny scars on his arms is what she noticed first. Micheal was right, this was Erik 2.0. Then, whenever he talked; those lush lips moving, Yara saw gold canines in his mouth. He looked so rough and scruffy. The Military definitely made him harder.

“Yara, stop being nosy!” Micheal yells. Yara almost jumped where she stood. She was so in tune with her thoughts that she hadn’t realized how close she’d gotten into the living room.

“Shut up Mike!” Yara fired back. With nervous eyes, Yara looked over at Erik. He didn’t speak, all he did was look fixedly at her with his eyes wide open. It was as if time stood still and she was the only thing that mattered in that room. Even the weed in Erik’s hand could burn to ash.

“Hi, Erik,” Yara couldn’t stop herself from grinning when Erik smiled at her with his dimples.

“Little Yara, what’s going on girl!” Erik hands Micheal the blunt back before standing from the couch, walking over to Yara with his arms outstretched for her to give him a big hug. Yara walks up to Erik, giggling nervously before bringing her arms around his waist, squeezing him. Erik rocked Yara back and forth while his chin rested on top of her curly head. Erik then brings his lips down to kiss Yara’s forehead before pulling her away to get a good look at her.

Heart shaped face, dimple in her chin, glittering eyes fringed with long eyelashes that reminded him of maple syrup, silken skin like cinnamon, ebony ringlets that made her thick but arched brows pop, lips full and glossy with a prominent Cupid’s bow. Erik’s eyes burned with desire when he gazed at Yara’s voluptuous, curvy, ample, and generous body. She really filled out from the last time he saw her. Mike can joke all he wants but Yara looked...

Erik covered his eyes with his hands, a suppressed laugh escaping his mouth before he opened his arms wide for her to hug him again. Yara giggles, stepping back into his embrace again to accept his hug. He smelled like patchouli. Tall, brawny, chiseled, broad-shouldered, and hulking, Yara couldn’t get over how comfortable she felt within Erik’s embrace. The deep baritone of his voice made her shiver.

“Look at you girl, all grown up. Crazy how that happened in three years, right?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Yara turned her face away timidly, “So, how is the Military treating you? I mean...” Yara looks Erik up and down with a shake of her head, “It seems like it’s treating you nice. Go hard or go home, right?

“Treating me like I’m a piece of shit but it’s worth it,” Erik laughs, “The Military transformed me.”

Yes it did

“You do look great, I almost didn’t recognize you sitting on that couch. The hair, the muscles, the scars...”

Yara looked at them, her hand extending out suddenly to touch a row of scars that looked freshly raised against his skin.

“Don’t.”

Yara jolted upright, her hand jerking away. His voice and the look he gave her had her shrank in front of him.

“Shit, my bad, girl. You don’t want to touch these. Bad memories. That’s all, little Yara, I’m sorry.”

“It’s...it’s okay,” Yara steps away, shifting from one foot to the other, “Good to see you though, Erik.”

“You too, girl,” Erik scratched his beard before reluctantly turning away from Yara to take his seat next to Micheal on the couch. Yara watched him walk away while tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. The way they greeted eachother felt so different. Erik wasn’t only physically changed, He’s mentally changed too.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?” Micheal stretched his slender tattoo covered arms above his head.

“Yeah, but I’m hungry so,” Yara rubbed her hands on her thighs to get rid of the sweat before walking away and into the kitchen. Yara finally exhaled when she entered the kitchen after holding her breath while walking past Erik. The kitchen was open and you could peek into the living room. Erik was sitting directly across from Micheal staring straight ahead at Yara while smoking his blunt. He tilted his head at her while half listening to Micheal talk about Evette. Yara turned her face away, grabbing a loaf of wheat bread from the counter to make herself a PB&J sandwich.

“Little sis, what you cooking up in there?”

“Nothing for you,” Yara spread strawberry jam on her bread, “Why don’t you order in?”

“I was thinking about it, E, I’ma make a liquor run real quick, you want anything?”

“I got some good stuff in the car I can grab, you aint gon’ drink it so don’t even ask.”

“Yeah, I like my own shit,” Micheal stood from the couch, walking towards the back of the apartment to his room. It was silent minus the low TV and Yara washing the butter knife she used to make her sandwich. Erik leaned back into the leather couch, crossing his arms over his solid chest. He watched Yara walk over to the trash can to toss a paper towel in the trash that she most likely used to clean up crumbs or spilled jam. Erik has a great view of Yara’s thick ass bending over, her drawstring shorts raising up her thighs and getting caught between her ass cheeks. Such a beautiful sight has Erik’s brows knitted as he gave her a once-over. At that particular moment, Yara looked back at him as if she could feel his eyes boring into her.

“Hi.” She spoke in a trembling tone.

“Hi, back,” Erik says suggestively.

“Did Mike leave yet?”

“Nah-“

“Aight, I’ll be back, y’all good? Need anything?” Micheal was back with a hoodie on, a dad cap, and a pair of vans on his feet.

“Can you stop by that corner market that sells those organic fruits? I want some mangos.” Yara yelled from the kitchen.

Micheal grabbed the door knob, pausing, “I’m making a liquor run too.”

“Oh! I want some Hypnotiq.”

“Cool, you, E?”

“We can order in when you get back, I’m good.”

“Bet, I’ll be back.”

Micheal exits.

“Mike still just as skinny as he was since the last time I saw him” Erik laughs.

“Yeah, he can eat but it goes nowhere. Me, I gained all the weight in the world.”

Erik gave Yara a dismissive wave of his hand, “Girl, you look good. Ain’t nothing wrong with the weight you put on.”

Yara giggles, popping a green grape in her mouth, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Erik craned his neck to try and see her, “Why don’t you come in here and eat. Over there hiding and shit from a nigga.”

“Okay,” Yara got up from the dining room table, walking through the kitchen and entering the living room. She decided to sit her plump bottom on the floor while using one of the leather ottomans as a surface for her grapes and half eaten sandwich.

“So, how have you been?” Erik asked while rolling a new blunt.

“I’ve been doing just fine. Ready to graduate honestly.” Yara nervously rubbed her shoulder before gazing at Erik, “You?”

“Busy, busy, busy,” Erik’s onyx eyes landed on hers before looking back at his blunt, “Just traveling, training, that’s about it.”

“Oh,” Yara massaged the back of her neck, “Does those scars have anything to do with it?”

“Partly, yeah.”

“I see,” Yara admires them, “They look...they don’t look like typical scars.”

“That’s because they’re not.” Erik spoke in a flat tone.

“Let me just, stop asking,” Yara laughs awkwardly.

Erik chuckles, “It’s not a subject I rather talk about with you, Little Yara.”

“I understand. I won’t pry.”

“Cool,” Erik takes a hit of his blunt, cheeks blowing out as they filled with smoke, “Seeing anybody?”

“Nope. I haven’t for the past three months. Been trying to stay focused. Men are a distraction.”

“Y’all women are too,” Erik laughs, smoke escaping his nose.

Yara cocked her head, “So, my guess is you aren’t seeing anyone either.”

Erik licks his lips, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Does that include sex too?”

Erik clapped his hands together while chuckling, “Ahhhh, shit, Yara, did you just ask me about my sex life? Are you having sexxxxxxx?!

“I did. And I’m grown, ERIK, so yes, I’m having sex,” Yara gave a half shrug while rolling her eyes.

“21, right? I remember when I was 21. Legally can drink now and everything. Too bad you still can’t hang with us,” Erik chuckles.

Yara gave Erik the finger, “fuck you, don’t play with me like that.”

“I’m just saying, I remember you graduating high school the last time I saw you. Now you’re in your 20s, barely.”

Yara lowered her head, “Will you always remember me like that? Like DAMN, I did grow up, nigga.”

Erik noticed the attitude in her voice, “You’re mad at me?”

“Just annoyed,” Yara stood up, grabbing her food, “I’m gonna eat in my room so I can look over this project I have to submit tomorrow. I’ll see you later, Erik.”

Confused, Erik watched Yara practically storm away. He didn’t understand why his words offended her so much. It’s just what Erik is used to. He’s used to seeing Yara so young not a 21 year old adult. It was all still so new to him. Deciding not to chase after her, Erik gets up from the couch to retrieve his shoes so he could grab his drink from his car.

———————

Yara couldn’t even focus.

She was really bothered by Erik’s comments.

It was mainly because every time he cracked jokes she thought about her kissing him. He probably cracked jokes about that too. Clearly, Erik couldn’t look past the fact that Yara is Mike’s little sis. She really thought he was past that when he first laid eyes on her. She could tell what a look of lust was in a man’s eyes since Yara often receives that look. Erik’s eyes were gleaming with desire and attraction. He almost looked shocked that it was Yara. Then, the way he looked her up and down. His eyes damn near gaped when she noticed him staring while she was in the kitchen. Pupils flared and all. Now, it was as if he was trying to hide the attraction he has towards her after three years. Yara was disappointed honestly. She always thought the next time she ever saw Erik they would honestly re-do that kiss and possibly have sex. If Yara had the choice to go back and lose her virginity it would have been with Erik.

Glancing at her phone, Yara noticed it was around 7:45 PM. Luckily, the bar she worked at wasn’t too far from her. Yara didn’t drive so she usually walked or caught an Uber. Lifting from her soft and fluffy floor cushion, Yara grabs her white cotton towel and soap sponge to take a shower. Leaving her room, she could hear Erik watching a basketball game. Yara closes her bedroom door, walking across to the bathroom, closing the door behind her softly. She began to undress, stripping her clothes from her body into a wrinkled pile on the floor near the sink. Opening the medicine cabinet, Yara grabs her Dove sensitive skin body wash and exfoliating spin brush. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Erik being in the living room right now while she was naked in the bathroom. There was no way Yara could ignore the growing dampness between her legs. She hadn’t been wet to the thought of Erik in a very long time.

Luke warm water running, Yara pulled the tribal patterned shower curtain back, stepping inside carefully not to slip on the the shower mat, then closing the curtain behind her. Yara forgot to pin her hair up but she needed to wash her hair anyway so she allowed it to grow wet while she wet her body completely. Grabbing her exfoliating brush and the body wash, Yara applied the body wash to her curvy body, turning on her brush and in a circular motion, began to cleanse her skin from the neck down. She had a separate skin care routine and a spin brush for that as well. Yara lifts her leg on the side of the tub to wash behind her thighs, the warm water running down her ass and to her pussy. Yara felt extra tingly between her legs. She didn’t have time to rub off in the shower and she forgot her favorite vibrator in her bed room. Groaning, Yara tried to ignore it as best as she could while scrubbing the top of her feet.

————————

Erik sat cross-faded with his eyes sitting low. The basketball game was just background noise for him. Bored out of his mind, Erik really wanted to go and talk to Yara. He didn’t want to approach her on some awkward shit but at the same time he missed talking to her. Erik remembers how he used to talk and goof off with Yara from her doorway when they were younger. Micheal is very long-winded and sitting on the couch will eventually lead to Erik falling asleep. Erik leans forward on his elbow to peek down the hall where Yara’s bedroom is located. The hall was brightly lit from the light and he couldn’t tell which room was hers exactly. All the damn doors looked the same.

“Fuck it,” Erik places his phone on the coffee table, rising from the couch and making his way down the hall. Hands in his pockets, Erik approaches the first door. He knocks, no sound, twisting the knob and opening the door. It was Mikes room. Erik closes the door, walking further down the hall and approaching a door to his right. The light was on, he could tell from the glow beneath the door. Erik knocks, no sound. He grabs the brass knob, twisting it, then opening. Standing there, Erik’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. His mouth hung open and his eyes went round as if they were about to fall out of their sockets. He gawked at the sight of Yara before him. A sight he never imagined in a million years he would see up until now.

Yara was arched over the bathtub with her ass pointed straight out at Erik. Erik could smell cleaning products; Fabuloso from what it smelled like. The water in the tub was on full blast as Yara cleaned the porcelain. Her body was still wet and she had a T-shirt wrapped around her hair. Yara’s ass jiggled each time she scrubbed the tub out. She wasn’t aware of his presence. Erik was so stunned by her naked body and the fact that he walked in on her that he couldn’t even speak.

Too late.

Yara lifts her body up, turning to place the scrub brush on the floor near the tub, her eyes catching Erik standing within the entrance to the bathroom. Yara felt as if her heart was leaving her body. Shell-shocked almost. Now, her breasts were revealed to him. Large, big brown areolas and nipples soaking wet and dripping, curvy waistline glistening with water down to her waxed mound and thighs. Pretty toes painted white with a tattoo of a rose on her left foot. Yara looked appetizing. Yara bit her lip bashfully, eyes glossy as if she wanted to cry from embarrassment, her hands reaching out to the toilet to grab her folded towel. Yara presses her lips together to try and stop her lower lip from trembling and eyes her looked heavenward.

Yara spoke with a shaky voice, “I-Why didn’t you knock? Erik?”

Erik didn’t respond. His eyes were ablaze staring straight at her face. He felt turned on but at the same time he felt guilty. Luckily, Yara couldn’t see how fat and long his dick had gotten within his jeans. She couldn’t hear him, maybe he should have knocked harder. Yara’s hands were shaking and she couldn’t meet his eyes. She was overly embarrassed and not at all prepared. Yara crosses her thighs, pressing the towel further into her chest.

“...I knocked. I should have knocked again. Shit, Yara, I’m sorry-“

“Just-it’s cool,” Yara sized Erik up before rolling her eyes, “Can’t go back now, yeah?”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Yara,” Erik felt like shit, “I’m so so so sorry, Yara.”

“Erik, stop with the apologizing,” Yara drew in a long breath.

“I’m just gonna go,” Erik turns away, walking out of the bathroom. Yara stayed rooted to the spot, her hand pressing further into her chest to calm her rapid heart beat. As always whenever Yara felt embarrassed, she sighed before laughing quietly to herself. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Yara shook her head at what just happened. She was afraid to even look Erik in his eyes now. He saw her in full on nudity. Not in her panties and bra, not in a swimsuit, not wrapped with a fluffy towel, no, fully naked.

Twirling a strand of hair that fell from under the T-shirt, and chewing on her cuticles, Yara gathered herself before leaving the bathroom. She places the cleaning products back in its designated basket under the sink before grabbing her sponge. Yara walked out of the bathroom, entering the hallway and her eyes disobeying her as she nervously glanced into the living room. There seated on the couch with his eyes focused on her, was Erik. Like a magnet, Yara couldn’t pull her eyes away. It was as if he waited to see her leave.

Yara raised a hand in greeting.

He waved.

Yara hung her head, a small smile on her face.

Erik did the same thing before looking at her again.

“I hope this doesn’t make it weird between me and you,” Yara says.

“Never,” Erik spoke with his deep voice, “it could never be weird with you.”

Yara licks her lips, eyes set with long lashes blinking slowly at Erik.

“What are you thinking?” Erik asks while leaning forward on his elbows.

“I’m...I...just-forget it-“

“Nah, tell me.” Erik pushes his eyes searching.

“Mike will be back soon, I have to get dressed.”

“He ain’t back yet,” Erik tilts his head at her, “Don’t be so shy. It’s me, Erik.”

“But it’s what I’m thinking that I shouldn’t be,” Yara crosses her ankles in front of her while staring at her toes.

“Well, I wanna know.”

Yara fidgeted with her fingers before looking up at Erik through her lashes, “I was thinking that I’m glad you saw me like that. I’ve always wanted you to see me like that. Sorry I stormed away like I did earlier.”

Erik swallows spit, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Erik has to look away himself, scratching his nose. He wasn’t prepared for that response at all. Little Yara always wanted him to see her naked. He knew she had a school girl crush on him. No wonder why she didn’t rush to cover herself even though she still looked embarrassed.

“No worries, ma. Uh,” Erik scratches his dreads, “So...you’ve always wanted me to see you naked?”

Yara toyed with a lock of hair, “Yeah...” she spoke with her voice barely above a whisper.

“You shouldn’t talk like that, little Yara, you’ll get yourself in trouble.”

They way he said that sounded so dangerous like fucking with him was the last thing any women would want to do. But Erik didn’t understand, that was ALL Yara wanted to do. He was back, if she didn’t make a move now he would be gone again.

“It’s been a while since you’ve seen me, Erik, I dabbled in trouble,” Yara spoke with a honeyed tone.

“Maybe you should get in that bedroom before Mike gets here then,” Erik says with a sly smirk.

“Yeah, maybe,” Yara giggles before letting out a sigh,

“Bye, Erik.”

“Bye, Yara.”

She didn’t want to move. She really wanted Erik to get up and follow her into her bedroom.

“What you waiting on?” Erik says inclining his head towards the bedroom, “Get in there, little Yara.”

“Come with me?” Yara says before she could even stop herself.

Erik’s eyes dropped and his lips parted. Eyes fully closed now, he clenched his jaw to try and calm his dick. Too bad it was already growing stiff in his jeans. The way she told him to come with her. Such a tempting little thing. Nothing he expected Yara to ever say to him. She’s right, she definitely is a grown women now. Erik wondered what that body could really do.

“I’m-im Sorry,” Yara’s brows creased, eyes cast down at her hands, “I’m being a little too bold right now.”

Erik looked towards the door, then back at Yara. He took in the sight of her barely able to keep that towel around her body.

“You mean what you said? You’re not playing games?” Erik asks with a serious tone, “Cuz if I get up off this couch and come with you, you’re getting all of me, girl.”

“I know,” Yara bites her bottom lip, “I know what I want.”

The way her lips pouted and her eyes looked up at him all innocent caused Erik to stand up slowly from the couch. Erik drew his lower lip between his teeth hands in his jeans pockets before stepping forward. Yara’s lower lip trembled and her breath came out in short gasps. Standing directly next to her now, towering over her with his large intimidating frame, was Erik looking down at Yara with awe transforming his face. Not wanting to waste anymore time, Yara began to walk forward towards her bedroom. Yara twisted the handle, turning to face Erik before opening the door. Erik followed her into darkness, Yara turning to face him with timid eyes. Erik raised a single brow at her, silently asking her if she was sure about this. Yara swallows spit before nodding her head slowly. Erik licks his lips before closing that door behind him, the light that illuminated the hallway disappearing.

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @theesotericqueen @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @rent-emspoons @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @momobaby227 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs​ @soulfxll​ @whazzzupmyhitta​

[fleckcmscott]

“Strogonof”

Summary: Arthur reminisces about his and Y/N’s first dinner together. Y/N’s happy to relive it with him.

Warnings: None

Words: 2,433

A/N: This request comes from the amazing @sweet-nothings04​. Thanks to @ithinkimawriter​ for beta-reading!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Arthur thought it was a great idea, albeit a last minute one. Not having known it was a thing when Y/N had given him his desk, he'd done nothing for their six month anniversary. He wanted to make damn sure to note one month of marriage. The dish she'd cooked the night he'd first come over had been delicious. And he would always associate it with falling in love with her. He found the name of it in his old journal, in the entry he'd written after their date, when he'd been high on the ease of their conversation, their too-short dance, and the kiss they'd shared: "strogonof."

Celebrating by having it again would be lovely. "I liked it a lot," he said when he called her office, notebook in hand. "Maybe we could make it for dinner?"

Her voice had a smile in it, though she turned him down. "Arthur, it takes nine hours to cook."

Nine hours? Unable to hide his consternation, he frowned. "Oh." Tension entered his shoulders, and he rubbed the back of his neck to quiet it. He'd have to come up with something else. Going to Kao-Wah's would work, though it wouldn't be as intimate. He could try to get the same booth as before. He started to flip through his notes, seeking to find the names of what they'd eaten between his earliest stand-up performance and the cementing of their relationship.

"Tell you what," she said, unknowingly interrupting his planning. The tap of her pencil on her desk was crystal clear through the phone. "We can get the ingredients tonight and make it tomorrow morning. How does that sound?"

The suggestion warmed him, though it would be a day late. "That sounds great." 

During their walk to the nearby grocer's, he explained why he wanted that specific dish. And he told her he'd finished paying for the ring he'd picked out for himself (which he wouldn't let her help with, though they had combined their bank accounts): a gold band to match hers. Then he showed it to her. She snagged it, held his left hand steady as she slipped it on his finger, then kissed him firmly. Right there on the sidewalk in front of everyone. Y/N laying claim to him so enthusiastically, in public, made him feel like he was floating. Lips cracking a toothy smile, he led her through the store's entrance.

Arthur carried the shopping basket as they strolled each aisle. She was swiftly going to and fro, grabbing groceries as they went. And she made sure to pick the same wine as they'd had that night. It was cute, really. That wasn't a word he often used to describe her. But her grin was growing with every item she picked out. She was almost girlish. But he knew if he said that, she'd remind him she was the older one, and he wouldn't hear the end of it. Smirking at her was the best option.

As he picked up sour cream, she told him their supply of TV dinners was almost out. They weren't eaten often, but Y/N brought them to work once in awhile. Though their roles were reversed, a feeling of deja vu swept over him as she walked down the frozen food section. He watched as she stood in front of the freezer, apparently trying to decide which one she wanted. He tried to recall what she'd said to him when they'd first met. After approaching quietly, he stood behind her. "There are too many to pick from."

When she looked over her shoulder, he knew she'd understood. He continued. "Want me to get one for you?"

Beaming, she opened the door for him and leaned back against it. "Yes, actually. The Polynesian Style Dinner. With the orange tea cake." He reached in and got it for her, then presented it with a small bow. She took it, giggled, and whacked him lightly on the bicep with it. Then she caught him off guard by grasping his collar and pulling him to her. "You know, mister," she purred, "you're very handsome. Want to sneak in the back? I'm sure we can hide behind some boxes."

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw a nearby man look at them with disapproval. Arthur snorted, blushing. "I'll just take your number. You might be a nut." She gasped, putting the back of her fingers to her mouth, then ducked away from him in mock outrage and hurried towards the cash register, glancing back as she went. God, he loved it when she was playful - generally she was just sarcastic. He grabbed the same dinner for himself and took off after her.

~~~~~

Y/N went over the recipe, guiding him through each step. It was easy enough. He cut the beef into bite-sized pieces while she drained the mushrooms. The condensed soups were thrown in, along with a chopped onion. As they worked in tandem, she told him the cream cheese needed to be taken out later to soften. He had a therapy appointment that morning and a gig, a kid's party, in the afternoon, but he'd be home in between. He wrote a note and left it on the counter so he'd remember. Then she handed him a spoon. "So," she started. "We've been Mr. & Mrs. Fleck for a month. How does it feel?"

He released a soft "hm" as he stirred all the ingredients together. Their engagement had been about a half hour - he hadn't gotten used to being a fiance before becoming a husband. Marriage elicited numerous reactions at once. He'd hoped for it one day. He'd thought it would be gratifying to have a partner, a person who loved him enough to take his last name, along with his issues. Someone who wanted to fold her life into his. With every seldom, missed chance, though, whether due to his apprehension or lack of women to interact with, he'd grown to assume that type of union was out of reach for him.

When they'd initially gotten together, he'd thought of Y/N in the context of what she could do for him. How her presence would improve his existence. That she validated him. His musings still often skewed that way. But he'd found he didn't only enjoy his wife being there whenever he needed or wanted her. It fulfilled him to support her. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised by that. He'd spent most of his years looking after Penny. It made sense he'd want to care for Y/N, too. Especially since marrying her was a choice he'd made, not a circumstance he'd wound up in as a kid.

During the prior months, mornings had become one of Arthur’s favorite parts of the day. Normally, he'd wake up an hour before her. He’d kiss her forehead, put on coffee, and go on the fire escape to smoke. It was a peaceful routine. But over the past four weeks, there had been a slight change. There were days like this one, when awe would overcome him as he stirred and looked her way, like it had when he'd first moved in. Awe at having her instead of permanent solitude. He would press into her sleeping form, simply to hold her, to feel her solid weight and heat against him. To remind himself he'd never go unseen again.

And he found a modicum of happiness in the small, domestic niceties he hadn't considered in his fantasies. Like when they would plop on the couch after a long day, and she would read a newspaper while he watched a variety show, keeping each other company even as their interests diverged. Or if she would forget to grab the bar of soap before hopping in the shower, and call for him to retrieve it for her. And there was the time he'd tried to impress her by fixing a leak under the kitchen sink himself. It had worked, temporarily. She'd lauded him, anyway, not caring the repair had only lasted a couple days and the-

Y/N poked his ribs. "I hope the silence doesn't mean you hate it," she teased.

He had a tendency to grow quiet and think too long when she asked him questions. But she didn't seem to mind - she'd said it was sweet. His lips turned up as he gave her a sidelong glance. "No." The spoon went in the sink after he rinsed it off. "It's nice. Especially with you."

She was setting the timer on the slow cooker. "Good." Her smile was wide as she stepped to him, her arms encircling his skinny waist. "I wish I could stay all day, but I've got to get to work. Call me if you need anything."

She always told him that before she left. And the fact that she meant it made him feel whole, at least for a few seconds. He said he would, kissed her, and helped her with her coat and bags as she headed out the door.

~~~~~

The meal was as appetizing as he'd remember. And because he wasn't nervous this time, he was able to fully enjoy the richness of it. He'd gotten used to drinking wine with Y/N occasionally, too, and poured the correct amount for both of them. But he often felt its heady effect after one serving. It was probably what emboldened him tonight, along with the Nat King Cole record in the background, and Y/N's attempt at dimming the pendant light over the table by tying a kerchief under it. “Can I tell you a secret?” Arthur asked, wiping his mouth with the cloth napkins Y/N insisted they use.

As she took another bite of her egg noodles, she grinned and tapped his calf with her toe. “We still have secrets?”

He pressed his lips together. He’d truly opened up to her some time ago, when she’d come back after Murray. But there would always be things he would never tell her. How he’d gotten fired for bringing a gun to the children’s hospital. That he’d quit school at fifteen. Or that he’d had the urge to follow her when they first met.

But this he wanted to share. “I…” He could feel his cheeks turn pink as he chuckled softly. He rested his face on his hand. “I thought about marrying you after we slept together the first time.” Trying to hide his bashfulness, he jabbed at a mushroom, blinking down at his plate.

The response was a full-throated laugh. She put down her fork and picked up her glass. “I’m glad you didn’t say that to me then.” The sip she took was longer than usual. It made him wonder if he’d screwed up, admitting that to her. Then she said, “I knew you were a romantic at heart, but I didn’t realize you were quite so old-fashioned.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she started, concentrating on her wine as she swirled it gently. “I hadn't realized sex was one of your big considerations for getting married. Given how often we had it beforehand.”

He scrunched up his face. “That’s not it.” Sighing, he started eating again. “I didn’t want someone to take you away from me. I was afraid you’d realize I’m a mess and not want me anymore.” Those notions felt ridiculous now and he shrugged at himself. “I just- I wanted you to know how quickly I loved you,” he said quietly.

He could feel the heat of her gaze on him. It didn’t make him uncomfortable - they were beyond that. But he felt his blush deepen. (That reaction was so ingrained in him. Vaguely, he wondered if he’d ever stop doing it around her.)

She cupped his chin and turned him to her, their eyes meeting. His eyebrows lifted and he held his breath, stomach doing a little flip. The adoration he felt for her was reflected back at him. Leaning forward, she kissed him. Though the movements of her lips were soft, the passion behind the gesture was clear. “I apparently like messes. And dimples," she said, squeezing his cheek. "I hadn't been aware they could be so cute." The glare he gave her made her giggle. Then she continued to eat. "I didn't plan on getting married again."

"Why not? You're good at it."

A pleased expression crossed her face. "Thank you." But then she bit her lip. "I've told you how unhappy I was with my ex. And then I had to jump into being miserable with my father. When I was free of all that, I wanted to live for myself." She took her plate to the sink and started rinsing it. "I still do. But it's not the same. You being a part of my life has made it better." Scoffing, she shook her head. "I never expected that from anyone." Her voice was getting rough, which he knew she'd blame on the wine. "I'm thankful for you everyday, Arthur."

He closed his eyes as he took in what she said. The romantic dinner, the LP playing, her precious words (which he planned to jot in his journal later)... The tightness in his breast was acute, and he thought he might burst if he simply continued sitting. Articulating his feelings was difficult when he was overcome. But touching her had become easy. Rising from his seat, he took a step towards her and laid a hand between her shoulder blades, massaging tenderly.

Chuckling, she leaned back against him. "Listen to me prattling on like an idiot. You'd never guess I started dating you for your looks."

He kissed the side of her head. No matter how often she told him how good-looking he was, he'd have his doubts. But he believed she found him attractive. Maybe his ego would someday let that be enough. "Why do you think I started seeing you?" he murmured.

She turned around in his arms and put her hands on his chest. "All right. The clumsy grace hiding under all that reservation probably had something to do with it, too."

The food and wine forgotten, he hugged her, hard, and nuzzled the side of her face. Y/N had told him before not to worry about saying the wrong thing. That when he managed to trust himself, which had gradually become easier, she thought he spoke beautifully. And sometimes the simplest phrases were the best. "I'm glad you married me."

"I love you, too." She pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Let's finish that bottle of wine."

~~~~~

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