#susana boot

[mikkomacko]

blurb with nate mack, make it soooo sweet please ❤️🥰☺️

His eyes had been following you all night long. From the moment you met him outside the locker room of Ball Arena, tucked into your white Avs hoodie and leather jacket ready to face the Colorado cold, Nate had stars in his eyes.

He’d put his game-day suit back on, but the top buttons of his shirt were undone and he now wore a wool coat instead of the suit jacket. A beanie that always got left in his car was pulled over his head but his damp blond hair was peeking out from under it, curling up towards his ears like wings.

“Hey,” he simply greeted, right hand coming up to straighten out your necklace. It was a thin gold chain with his number, the 29 now resting comfortably between your collar bones.

You slipped your arms around his waist, stepping into his chest and that right hand now found your lower back, holding you closer.

“Hi,” you replied, tip toeing in your boots to peck a kiss to his lips. “Think you can score that goal a little earlier next time?”

A teasing smirk lifted your lips and you watched the way his eyes followed it, the comforting blue of them lighting up with your smile. “Lucky I didn’t make you wait until a shoot-out.” He replied, knowing how you couldn’t stand the anxiety of watching them.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his little chuckle as he took you by the hand and led you back through the arena to the players parking lot. Most of the guys had left by then, already heading to the roof top bar one of the wives picked for tonight’s celebration. Nate always took the longest to leave after a game, following his diligent and relaxing recovery routine.

By the time the two of you joined the rest of the team downtown, they’d already established a large string of tall tables together and Mikko was drinking champagne straight out of the bottle. He saved two seats for you and Nate, sitting your boyfriend right next to him and letting you sit by the end so you could chat with Mel and Gabe. Of course Gabe and Mikko flittered around, squishing between other chattering teammates or delivering drinks from the bar.

Nate only got up once, kissing the top of your head before heading to the bar. He returned with an espresso martini for you and some light calorie beer for himself. Other than that, he was stuck to his seat with an arm stretched out behind you.

Throughout the night he sipped on his one beer, still sticking to his in-season diet. Even when you needed another martini, he’d send Bo with instructions to put it on his tab, not even sparing the younger boy a glance as he did so.

No he kept his eyes on you. You could feel his gaze on your mouth when you raised your voice over the music to answer Mel or when you laughed along with Susana at the expense of her drunk boyfriend. He watched you fiddle with the number on your necklace, straightening it out or simply rubbing your fingers over the cool metal. But his gaze was never heated, at least not with lust.

It was warm with love.

A glow of morning sun across your cheeks, the rays waking you up after a long night.

“You ok?” You asked him after Susana disappeared to the bathroom with Mel, turning your body towards him until your knees pressed into his spread thighs.

Nate hummed, turning to face you as his eyes flickered over your face like he couldn’t decide where to look. He rested his left elbow on the back of his chair, his foot locking around the leg of yours and he drug you closer.

“Perfect,” he finally replied, fingers finding the loose strands of your hair. He twirled his finger around a lock of curled hair, twisting it around his fingers mindlessly. “You?”

Cheeks flushing with heat, you leaned forward until your nose met his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“You’re being sweet tonight,” you comment, pleasant goosebumps rising on your arms as he continued to play with your hair.

“I’m always sweet.”

You laughed. “Extra sweet, then.”

His chest fumbled with laughter, the breath of his chuckle hot on the crown of your head. Nate stayed quiet and you left him to his thoughts, closing your eyes to simply enjoy the feeling of his body against yours.

You don’t how much time had passed before he pulled you back by the collar of your leather jacket, nudging you to look up at him. Compliant, you met the warmth of his gaze and noticed the way he just seemed to glow extra tonight.

“I love you,” he said, lips curling with a smile. “I don’t think I say it enough but yeah. Love ya kid.”

Giggling, you cupped your hand behind his neck and drug his mouth down to yours.

“Love you more, kid.”

Sealing your lips together, you decided that he does say he loves you enough. But you’ll never complain for him saying it extra.

[slovenlyrecordings]

Tonight! The MONSTERS en La Mezcalli

by Susana Iglesias

(abajo en Español!)

You think about James Dean before you go to sleep, you look at his picture, I know because I do the same thing. I'm walking down the street of Gabino Barreda listening to Elvis. Since April 2016, Born to be Cheap organized wild parties, the first was very close to here, in a space above Numantina, a cantina in the San Rafael neighborhood. Denep Velasco/Denepa Panky & Matt Watson live among thousands of vinyls, they not only collect them, they spin them to exist. The name of their parties comes from a Divine song called that way. And yes, it seems that this pair was not born to do what others tell them, they have been 8 years of intense trash rock'n'roll, they play killer albums, never fillers, garage, punk, rockabilly, surf, blues Denepa is from Azcapotzalco and Matt from London, from a town called Epsom. They are a luxury, the music of their parties has elegance, style, also the beautiful and original turntables made by their ally Dr Tornas, a mysterious character who gives a turntable made by him on each anniversary of the Born to the winners of their traditional annual dance competition.

To celebrate their 8th anniversary they organized several dates with the legendary Swiss band The Monsters. The first was last Thursday the 25th at Gato Calavera, yesterday in Cuautitlán Izcalli at Sham Rock, today they are playing at a venue in the Guerrero neighborhood, tomorrow they will be in Tijuana at the Black Box, from there they will head to Reno, LA, Seattle , Oslo, Amsterdam, Berlin, Greece, Madrid, will not stop dynamiting ears, souls and minds until July 6, accompanies them on the tour playing records with Pete Slovenly who plans to take The Monsters to the We're Loud Fest in 2025 which will be in Kenya. Pete years ago took them on tour in Vietnam. It was difficult to recover after seeing them live at the Gato Calavera, it was brutal. Devastating & precise power, they opened with Search, in seconds the shirts, boots and glasses flew through the air while The Love I never had played, then came Blow Um Mau Mau, their damn rock and roll trash exploded in our faces and hearts , the frantic faces chanted until they almost fainted in the little hell of sweat and screams of wild rockers.

The songs advanced mercilessly and deadly, while Voodoo Love played I saw Brent Amaker smile, yes the famous country singer from the Seattle scene was next to me. Carrion Kids, present. Chav, a rocker, came from San Francisco to see them. Peppers, drummer of Shifters, took the playlist. Too much rock: El Muertho from Tijuana played yesterday at El Kentucky, a rebel space they set up in what was a KFC on Av. Juárez, it was the party of the unique HeYo radio station. There are not many spaces for REAL rock, that which does not whine, nor hypocritically champions anarchy and accepts change from officials. I know you cry when you remember that James Dean is dead. You spin your records thinking there is no tomorrow. Nights like cars at high speed. Please: forever: Stay sick.

Artículo original en Español

[mariacallous]

On a recent afternoon in Corriganville Park, an old movie-set ranch in the rocky foothills of the Santa Susana Mountains in Southern California’s Simi Valley, with her blonde bouffant teased to previously uncharted dimensions, a spiked headdress in the shape of a bursting nebula, Wonder Woman–esque wrist cuffs, and bulbous Proenza Schouler open-toe shoes, Jennifer Coolidge looked very much the part of a sci-fi superheroine. She brought to mind such greats as Jane Fonda in Barbarella, Zsa Zsa Gabor in Queen of Outer Space, and First Mate Piggy in “Pigs in Space,” the cult Muppets space opera.

Coolidge, who this year swept the Emmys, Golden Globes, and Critics Choice Awards for her portrayal of a heedless hotel habitué on The White Lotus, was engaged in a winner-takes-all slugfest with Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert, the directing duo known as Daniels, whose multiverse epic, Everything Everywhere All at Once, was the most nominated film at this year’s Academy Awards. It was a surreal scene. Coolidge was protecting Earth from a giant extraterrestrial fashion lobster with monstrous claws, played by Scheinert, but instead of “Pow!” and “Whack!” their interaction was more like “Pow” and…“Whack?”

“I think the best thing to do is to take this,” said Kwan, handing Coolidge a rhinestone-encrusted metal scepter before ducking back behind the camera. “Act like you’re going to stab him.” Coolidge squinted her eyes, seemingly confused about the nature of her superpowers. “Oh, you mean I’m supposed to be annihilating him? That’s cool, I guess,” she said. She proceeded to gently prod Scheinert, who appeared to barely feel the might of her wrath under the spiked sleeves of his crustacean-couture ensemble. Glancing back and forth between his camera’s viewfinder and the low-stakes combat unfolding before him, Kwan furrowed his brow. “You’re being shocked by the scepter,” he explained to Scheinert. Trying not to laugh, he added, “And maybe, kind of, enjoying it.” Scheinert put his claws on his hips, nodding his head in agreement, his whiskerlike antennae flopping in the air. As if on cue, Coolidge prodded him once again, this time more forcefully, sending Scheinert into an exaggerated Looney Tunes–like convulsion, followed by suggestive gyrations reminiscent of a K-Pop boy-bander.

Coolidge let out a loud cackle. “I can’t kill him now,” she said, her face awash with childlike amusement. When the camera clicks paused, Scheinert peeled off his Robyn Lynch balaclava. Shirley Kurata, Daniels’ costume designer, began removing his arthropod exterior. “What is it about lobster claws that I’m so attracted to?” Coolidge wondered. She then turned her attention to surveying the clothing racks filled with tubular disc dresses, new-wave hats shaped like lampshades, and metallic-hued space cowboy boots. “Oh, so this is what we’re going to be doing today,” she said, her voice tinged with bewildered excitement. “I look pretty evil. They seem to like me in villain outfits a lot.”

...

For their latest romp, the directors said there was no question that Coolidge had to be the A-list star of this B-movie shoot, though they had never worked with the actor and their only in-person interaction with her was a brief hello at the Critics Choice Awards in January. “But of all the people who are having a moment right now, she felt like someone exciting to put on the cover of a magazine,” Kwan said. Thanks to her Rubenesque figure, flowing blonde locks, bee-stung pout, and million-dollar smize, Coolidge certainly stands out in everything she’s in, whether she’s playing a dim-witted nail tech in Legally Blonde, a desperate housewife having a lesbian affair with her poodle’s trainer in Best in Show, a sultry suburban MILF in American Pie, a trigger-happy mother-in-law to Jennifer Lopez’s bride-to-be in Shotgun Wedding, or, most recently, a psychic TV medium in Netflix’s We Have a Ghost.

More than anything, Scheinert explained, the directors appreciate a stacked résumé. “I’m prejudiced against young people,” he said. “I have problems with our youth-obsessed culture and beauty standards, so anytime we can shake things up a little, I’m all for it.” Kwan and Scheinert, who are both 35, said working with Michelle Yeoh, 60, Jamie Lee Curtis, 64, and now Coolidge, 61, allows them to pick up “different strategies for existing in this industry,” almost as if by osmosis. “We still feel like just babies,” Kwan said.

On that point, Coolidge was in firm agreement. “The film business tires people out. But I swear to god, I felt like I was getting together with little kids,” she said of her day with the directors. “They were like these sort of child prodigies who are super, super smart and just super creative. I’ve never been asked to do a shoot like this: I have weapons, take down small cities, pick up cars and throw them. I don’t know if I will ever be this surprised again. It was one of the best things I have ever been involved in.”

Like the rest of the world, Kwan and Scheinert swooned over Coolidge’s performance as Tanya in The White Lotus. They were mesmerized as she blasted her way to a clumsy demise on a megayacht chartered by the fearsome Fab Five of Sicily in the final episode of the show’s second season. One of Tanya’s lines is now the stuff of meme legend: “These gays, they’re trying to murder me!”

Speaking about Tanya, but also possibly referring to her own trajectory, Coolidge said: “I feel bad for her, because she didn’t know what she was made of. She didn’t have that kind of faith in herself. Sometimes these scary things happen in life. And then you find out, in like two seconds, that you are a survivor and that you can really pull through for yourself, sometimes in a way that you never believed you could.” Then, with inimitable comic timing, she pitched her raspy voice ever so slightly so it sounded like her scatterbrained character on The White Lotus: “But then, of course, it didn’t quite end up going my way in the end, did it?”

[destinygoldenstar]

Fusing Total Drama Characters In Sims 4 (Part 16)

I’m fusing Total Drama characters in Sims 4 using the genetic mechanic.

Why?

I don’t flipping know. Why not?

I’m gonna do EVERY pairing possible. This post is just gonna be however long Tumblr allows for images.

So let’s just get into it.

I’m using my own TD Sims for this. They’re in the Gallery if you want them. As well as all these pairings and sims that get generated. So what you want.

Tyler + Sadie

Okay, let’s see what sims comes up with…

Okay. Wow.

I’m kinda scared for today because of the Tyler sim making sims wild combos. But these are okay.

Not sure how I feel about the girls hair.

But other than that, these are neat. I like how they have a similar casual outfit motif going on.

The boys name is Gabriel. He’s practice makes perfect & materialistic.

The girls name is Alisha. She’s a perfectionist & romantic.

Tyler + Katie

Alright. Let’s move forward with the other BFFFL.

Let’s see what sims comes up with…

Okay. These are good.

Idk how I feel about the girls cowgirl boots. But other than that she looks nice.

Not sure why the boy’s hoodie is up. He seems like the closed off type.

The girls name is Tara. She’s clumsy & vegetarian.

The boys name is Erick. He’s a geek & hates children.

Tyler + Justin

Well this will be interesting.

Let’s see what sims comes up with…

Okay. They’re fine. They work.

I like the subtle eyeshadow the girl has and this hairstyle.

I would maybe change these colors, but other than that, yeah, I like it.

The girls name is Nicola. She’s materialistic & lactose intolerant.

The boys name is Kyle. He’s evil & self absorbed.

Well damn.

Tyler + Noah

Opposites opposites.

Let’s see what sims comes up with…

Okay.

That boy is CLOSED OFF. But he matches, so…

The girl ALMOST wins. It’s just that I don’t vibe the shirt. If it was shorts and that color, it would be a perfect design. Because I love everything else she has going on here.

The boys name is Carlo. He’s proper & a foodie.

The girls name is Kristin. She hates children & perfectionist.

Tyler + Eva

Last one for today.

Two athletes.

Let’s see what sims comes up with…

Oh they’re good. They’re actually really good.

That boy just looks like Tyler. The red jacket doesn’t help.

Is the boy wearing makeup? He has blush? Very nice.

The girls name is Susana. She’s a dog lover & childish.

The boys name is Chris. He’s lazy & squeamish.

OH MY 😂

THIS WAS RANDOM. OH MY GOD…

Say these generated sims were on a team on a show. What’s their team name?

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

Another week, gone. We’re picking up the grandkids this morning so I’ll have to get this put together quickly this morning. Sorry, grandpa duty calls! 👴🏼

I’m finishing this off in the car as we go to get them. 🤣

Hope you enjoy the links.

Max Boot • The Washington Post

The GOP’s abandonment of Ukraine makes me ashamed to be an American

This is gut wrenching. Ukraine is standing between Russia and Europe. That nutter in Russia isn’t going to stop at Ukraine. He’ll go until someone can stop him.

Come on G.O.P., get your crap together and defend democracy. Oh, right, you no longer care about that.

Ananya Bhattacharya • Quartz

Spotify is ending 2023 with its third and biggest layoffs of the year

Man, 2023 has been a crummy year for tech workers. Here’s hoping 2024 is much, much, better.

James Verniere • Boston Herald

“Leave the World Behind,” which is based on a 2020 novel by American author Rumaan Alam and produced by among others Barrack and Michelle Obama, is nothing less than a modern-day version of Alfred Hitchcock’s unforgettable 1963 hit “The Birds.”

I watched this last night and I really liked it. If you have Netflix check it out.

Ashur Cabrera

Once upon a time — way back in, like, 2004 or something — I used to turn my nose up at sites that served an RSS feed with only an excerpt. It felt, I think I would have said, like a sleazy way to drive clicks. (“Information wants to be free!” etc. 🙄) Twenty years on I still read a ton from RSS feeds, but I found recently that I’m starting to thaw on that position quite a bit.

Ashur, what happened to the curmudgeon in you? 😃

As a developer of a feed reader I get request to display the full article and it’s what I prefer so I don’t have to visit the website. That’s a feature on the feature list for Stream. One of these days.

Bart Decrem • Mammoth Blog

Introducing Mammoth 2: The easiest way quit Twitter/X for good and join Mastodon

It’s nice to see developers strive to make Mastodon work for old Twitter, non techie, users to get started with Mastodon. That’s been the biggest barrier to entry. Folks can’t figure out how to join and they also tend to like recommendations.

Jacob Kastrenakes • The Verge

Earlier this year, a developer slid into Eric Migicovsky’s DMs with a spectacular claim: that he had reverse engineered Apple’s iMessage, allowing any device — Android, Windows, whatever — to send messages as a blue bubble. Migicovsky didn’t believe what he was reading.

This is an interesting read. Bravo to the 16-year old who figured it out!

Daring Fireball

But Overcast does exist, and it’s the app where most people with exquisite taste in UI are listening to podcasts.

Poor Castro has languished and definitely doesn’t have the geek recognition Overcast does. I’d imagine that’s why it’s the number one podcast player in John’s stats.

As far as UI preferences and paradigm go, Castro fits me better.

I’d love to be able to buy it from Tiny and keep working on it. I’ve already shared my opinion on the matter.

Aldous J Pennyfarthing • Daily Kos

House Speaker Mike Johnson, whose grand vision for America includes transforming every uterus in the country into a Pez dispenser, is convinced he’s the North American Moses who will lead his people to the Promised Land.

Yeah, this guy wants a theocracy. No thank you.

Sure, the Christians might agree with you but what about Jews, Muslims, Buddhists? Name your religion. It’s not right. Our First Amendment was setup to protect us from a theocracy, but we all know the G.O.P. doesn’t really care about the Constitution.

Susana Polo • Polygon

The Comixology app, the mobile incarnation of the digital comics platform owned by Amazon since 2014, has finally shuffled off this mortal coil.

I’ve had ComiXology for a number of years but I never went for the subscription. I just don’t read enough. I don’t see this as a bad move. Comics are just another type of book and the Kindle App is fine for reading.

ESPN

While four teams are celebrating the opportunity to play for a national title on the field, undefeated ACC champion Florida State is on the outside, becoming the first unbeaten Power 5 conference winner to ever miss out on the College Football Playoff.

This broke a lot of hearts and it’s a real shame the 12 team — why not 16 — playoff wasn’t in place this year.

Of course I say that and my own thoughts on the matter didn’t include Florida State.

I also thought Georgia should have been in. Off by one error. We got Alabama from the SEC instead.

Apple

Apple TV+ today shared the first images from “Constellation,” a new eight-part, conspiracy-based psychological thriller drama starring Noomi Rapace (“The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” “You Won’t Be Alone”) and Emmy Award nominee Jonathan Banks (“Breaking Bad,” “Better Call Saul”).

So, yeah, I’m looking forward to this! Anything with Noomi Rapace in it is good in my book.

Danijela Vrzan

Let’s implement a custom dark mode color in our app - dark blue.

Really nice SwiftUI article on how to change the colors used for Light and Dark mode for your app. Well done.

[lexa-ocean]

i would like to hear about this animatronic fan band if you're comfortable sharing 👀👀

I haven't shared abt my ocs in so long, i'll be honored!!

(Even tho i don't really have any art on these guys and i haven't given them much thought in a long ass time... meh)

So!! My idea for these guys came by thinking "man... it'd be really cool to have an animatronic band in my country (Argentina)" bc we don't have any of that here. So all these guys are pretty much argentine, and would sing mostly songs for here (and generally songs from latinamerican artists), with most being animal species commonly found here too!! (Most, not all)

There were 5 of them:

First off, Silvia, the pianist!! She would be a dog (poodle, to be specific) in her 40s. She'll be a complete old diva, dressing with very expensive and elegant ballroom-like clothing, which was meant to fit with her playing a grand piano. The idea for how she'll look like on-stage would be her being in a bit of a 3/4ths angle to the audience, so the piano was more visible. I was kind of inspired by actual argentine actress Mirta Legrand and Susana Gimenez while thinking of her!!

Then there was Tamara, the lead guitarrist!! She was a black cat and more of a rebel type, fitting her instrument, and in her mid 30s. She would dress in a bit of grunge fashion, with an old flannel over an old band shirt, ripped jeans, boots etc. She was meant to be a foil to Silvia, with her being very proper and elegant while Tamara was messy and casual about everything. On stage, she would even be sitting on Sil's piano, facing the audience more directly. Her guitar would be all black and red with a few stickers on it even.

Then there was the Actual Old Guy of the team, Don Sergio (Note: Don as in, 'Mister' but more casual) he's a Tatú Carreta (AKA a Big armadillo) in like, his 70s or so. I even envisioned him with a grey beard and the whole thing. He would be dressed like a gaucho, with a big ol hat and pancho, boots, etc. He would play an acoustic guitar, meant to sound more 'melancholic' and stuff. He was very much a grandfather type, more focused on playing tango and charreras. On stage, i saw him sitting on like, a log with a whole mate set up by his side

Then, there was the youngest guy, Ciro!! He was a carpincho (capybara) on his teens, 15/16 yrs old!! He'll be the baterist, and be sarcastic and bit of a joker, but still a very sweet kid underneath it all. He would wear very typical, but still modern-ish clothes, a coya hat and a sweater of llama wool, both green like his drum set. He'll have his whole little space on stage, with some fairy lights behind him and the band's name spray painted on the bass drum (i did never give the whole group a name tho).

Then, there was Iliana, the bassist!! She was a Aguará Guazú (Maned Wolf) on her 20s. She was pretty high-energy and easily excited, very friendly and outgoing generally. She would dress very colorfully, i hadn't really thought about it as much but she would def wear bali pants. Her bass would also be brightly painted. On stage, she would be standing, one of her feet resting on the amplifier.

That's everything i had for them, basically!! It's been years since i thought of them, but it was nice to revisit these ideas!!

To end things off, some songs they would definetly cover

Mariposa Tecknicolor - Fito Paez

Y Dale Alegria A Mi Corazón - Fito Paez

Carnavalito (El Humahuaqueño)

De Esas Que Te Hacen Llorar - Jorge Rojas

Ojos De Videotape - Charly Garcia

Canción Para Mi Muerte - Sui Generis

Don - Miranda

Alfonsina Y El Mar - Mercedes Sosa

Luz Delito - Wos

Arrancarmelo - Wos

Ojos Color Sol - Calle 13

Latinoamerica - Calle 13

3 Estrellas En El Conjunto - BZRP feat. Duki / La T y la M

¡Corre! - Jesse & Joy

Te Aviso, Te Anuncio - Shakira

[extreme-fix-water-damage]

Porter Valley Country Club 

Located on a stunning golf course surrounded by the Santa Susana mountains, it’s no wonder this club has become one of the most popular in the region. With a staff able to offer tips and tricks on your next round, this is a great place to test your skills and take in some of the area’s most scenic views as you go.

Best of all, the club has an active social scene, six Har-Tru tennis courts and eight pickleball courts to boot. Not to mention a state of the art gym with cardio and strength training equipment, circuit training, TRX, cycling and free weights.

Most importantly, the Club has a warm and welcoming staff and a membership that’s as engaged as you are. In short, it’s a place where you can live your best life, in a community that cares about your wellbeing.

About a mile from the best golf in the area, there’s also a large selection of excellent restaurants and coffee shops, as well as an eclectic array of cultural attractions and outdoor recreation options.

You can count on Porter Valley to be the best place to call home for a good long while.

[onemediagh]

Self-employed allegedly swindles Police Inspector

Self-employed allegedly swindles Police Inspector

An Accra Circuit Court has granted GH30,000 bail with three sureties to a self-employed man accused of defrauding a Police Inspector. Wisdom Waklatsi allegedly collected GH17,500 from complainant Police Inspector George Kwakye under the guise of purchasing a V – boot diesel automatic Mercedes Benz car, but he failed. Mrs Susana Eduful, presided over by the Court, ordered that only three family…

[thefashionvibesofficial]

Susana Molina and the UGG boot clone that fashionistas will hate (and you will love)

Susana Molina and the UGG boot clone that fashionistas will hate (and you will love)

Everything that UGG carries is kind of like a Crocs phenomenon: those of us who know fashion are dying to have all the models in our closet. those who ignore trends think they are terrible. This is how it is, whether you like it or not. I’ve heard more than once that they look like “house slippers” when it comes to Australian boots, but let me tell you, I love them and countless other…

[fashion-boots]

Agent Wednesday shot by Susana Vestige 

[jtmercronin]

Resident Evil 3: Nemesis 1999 Jill Valentine Go Army! ALICE web harness, lock pick,  M12 handgun holster, pistol magazine pouch, cl2 magazine pouch & first aid spray.

Colt Model 733 M4A1, Aimpoint CompM2, Tippmann verticle grip & Harris bipod. Beretta 92 FS Brigadier. Benelli M3 Super 90 Shorty. S&W Model 629 

[valentineforlemonandcherry]

Foxtail & Wolfsbane Part 15

Summary: Your lifelong obsession to hunt down the Nine-Tailed Fox has not gone as expected, and seventeen years later, you find yourself coming back to the place where it all started: Hogwarts. However, with Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban and Headmaster Dumbledore’s hire of a certain Professor R. J. Lupin, you suddenly find yourself intertwined in the fates of those with whom you thought you had parted ways with long ago. [Multi-Post Story] [Rowan Scamander x Reader] [Remus Lupin x Reader] [Young Sirius Black x Reader] [Tristan Graves x Reader] [Severus Snape x Reader] [Warning: Story Contains Explicit Smut.] [Warning: Nonconsent.] *Note: Rowan Scamander, Tristan Graves, Susana Holmes, Cas Carneirus, Henrietta Weiss, and Thomas Picquery are OC characters. *Please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!

☾ Click Here for Foxtail & Wolfsbane Home Page (All Chapter Links) ☾

June 1977.

Knock, knock.

Tristan Graves looked up to see his old childhood rival, Rowan Scamander, standing in his doorway.

“Ah, come back to the States? Did Dumbledore finally find enough sense to kick you out?” Tristan said, by way of greeting.

“Something like that,” Rowan replied, amused. 

Without waiting for Tristan to ask, Rowan entered the office and sat back comfortably in the chair across from Tristan.

Tristan paused. His eyes fell onto Rowan’s dirt-caked boots. 

Seeing Tristan’s grimace, Rowan followed Tristan’s line of his sight. Realizing that Tristan was staring at his boots, Rowan grinned. “At least I’ve done something in my life. Look at you - same office, same chair, same everything. Only your suit is different. Finally grown out of the kid’s department?” 

Tristan snorted, entirely unamused. “I’m not here to banter with you, Scamander.” He continued quickly in a clipped, matter-of-fact voice, “I’m sure you’ve already heard, but I’ve a mission for you and your father.”

Rowan nodded. “I did hear. I even left Hogwarts because of your ‘mission.’ So, it better be good.”

Tristan raised his eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you have graduated by now? How many years of training do you need?”

“I’m four years younger than you, you fool,” Rowan reminded Tristan.

“Anyways,” Tristan said crisply, while sliding a folder across the desktop, “take a look at this list of Dark Creatures. I need you and your father to track every single one of these populations.”

Rowan flipped open the folder. “Dementors, acromantulas, giants, basilisks…” Rowan paused, suddenly falling silent.

“What? You have some objection?” Tristan asked.

Rowan said softly, “Under mythical, you wrote ‘Nine-Tailed Fox.’”

“No.” Tristan sighed. “Your father wrote that one. Insisted on it. I tried to override his edit, but your father was insistent…” Tristan shook his head both in annoyance and resignation.

“Well, it’s real all right,” Rowan said quietly. He shut the folder. “But I won’t go after it.”

“What?”

“I won’t go after it.”  

“Why not? Too scared?”

A soft smile appeared on Rowan’s face. “You could say that.”

“Really?” Tristan said, surprised at Rowan’s admission.

“Scared, yes. But not of the Nine-Tailed Fox.”

“Of what, then?”

“The Nine-Tailed Fox already has a self-proclaimed hunter. I wouldn’t fancy getting in her way.”

“A hunter?” Tristan’s expression turned serious, as he inquired, “Who? A Dark Wizard?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Rowan said. “Actually, you’d like her, Tristan. She has the same energy as you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your singular focus. She has it too.”

“Stop talking in riddles,” Tristan demanded sharply. “Tell me straight. Who’s this ‘hunter?’”

Rowan took his time answering, pondering what to say. Finally, he said neutrally, “A classmate of mine. It’s her life’s mission to find the Nine-Tailed Fox, and I reckon she’s well-suited for it. She’s clever, and she’s tough. Besides, the Nine-Tailed Fox is known to prey on men. Mythical creatures are stronger than humans are, so - ”

“- You mean, mythical creatures are stronger than Muggles,” Tristan interrupted.

“No. Mythical creatures are stronger than all of us, Tristan,” Rowan said firmly. “In a game of souls, we will always lose to a mythical creature. But if anyone can overcome the Nine-Tailed Fox, it’s this girl of mine. I mean - ” Rowan softly cleared his throat, as he corrected himself, “this girl, a friend of mine.”  

“And you’re just going to give up on finding the Nine-Tailed Fox? You’re just going to let her win this race?” Tristan challenged.

Rowan smiled ruefully. He stood up and began to leave the office when Tristan called out to him, “Scamander, what’s gotten into you? It’s not like you to accept second best without even trying.” 

Rowan stopped at the doorway. His lower face was obscured by his jacket collar, but Tristan saw Rowan’s eyes crinkle as he shot him his trademark warm, charming smile before he stepped out of the office altogether.

*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

October 1979.

Tristan gazed down at you. You were asleep besides him, pressed tight to his side – well, you had to be, since the two of you were sharing the tiny space of the sofa to sleep on. Your head was resting right on his shoulder, nearly on his chest.

Her hair is back to blue… Tristan blinked tiredly. Then, he shifted so that he laid your head down on the pillow that he had been using, before he pulled his robe around him and headed for the kitchen.

As soon as he stepped outside, your eyes flashed open. You hadn’t been planning on taking advantage of him, but you knew: This is my opportunity. Now or never.

*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Tristan stared at the newspaper laid out in front of him. He was having his morning coffee at the dining table, and reading his paper and letters, as he always did.

Twenty minutes ticked by. How long does she plan to sleep for? Tristan thought, irritated.

Tristan asked Susana to provide you with a change of clothes, which was barely concealed code for “wake her up.”

But Susana came back only a few minutes later. She looked quite nervous as she reported, “Sir… She’s not in the library. Nor is she in her room.”

“What?”

“She’s not there.”

“She was just…” Tristan’s brow furrowed, and a flash of understanding suddenly passed over his face. He cursed, “Fuck. Don’t tell me she...”

“Sir?” Susana wrung her hands anxiously.

Tristan growled, as he leapt to his feet and raced back to the study. Susana panted as she tried to keep up with her young master’s swift gait.

Tristan threw open the doors to the library that the two of you had occupied last night – only to find the curtains billowing around a wide-open window.

“She’s gone.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Susana apologized. “I should have put up stronger wards. I was only thinking about attacks from outside, not escapes from within. I apologize, sir.”

“No need. It’s not your fault,” Tristan replied. His voice became heavy, as he remarked, “Let’s just hope Picquery doesn’t find her before I do.”

*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

“Freedom,” you breathed out.

Inside of your oversized robe (which you’d taken from the Graves’ residence), a soft yelp sounded out, as Artemis agreed with you.

“You didn’t like that house, either, huh?” you asked her. “Too gloomy, and  frightfully severe. Rather like Graves himself.”

You felt Artemis nod her little head against your side.

Yes, you thought, freedom – or at least, some form of it. Seriously, what the hell have I gotten myself into? I can’t make any sense of what’s going on. I’m in the United States, and I’ve been interrogated and under surveillance by MCUSA. I don’t even know why. My head is spinning with questions. I need to just sit down somewhere and think about what I need to do. But I can’t afford to stop. I have to get out of the U.S.

“We’ve got to get back to London, Art,” you mumbled aloud. “I’ve got no friends here. No contacts.”

However, even as you said that, you realized that you were wrong. You did have a potential contact in the States. 

“Wait…” you murmured, “Rowan. Isn’t Rowan in America?”

But you’d barely felt your very first flicker of hope at getting out of this mess, when a stranger raced up to you and shoved you into the nearest alleyway.

Artemis squealed, as she felt a strong hand suddenly pressing painfully hard against her entire body.

You shouted loudly, “Get off of my fox!”

Since you were deprived of your wand, you swung your fist hard at the person’s face.

The person cursed, “Damn it, calm yourself!” and ducked, but your knuckles grazed his cheek, and it felt like a burst of fire suddenly torched across your knuckles.

“Ow - !” you started to cry out, but just then, that person clamped his hand over your mouth and shoved you until your back hit the wall.

That was when you realized who it was.

“Gwaves?” you mumbled out, trying to speak against his hand pressing down hard on your mouth.

Tristan raised his other hand, which was holding his wand, and he pointed out at the alleyway. “Look,” he hissed.

You turned your head as much as you could to see the familiar figures of Thomas Picquery and Henrietta Weiss, out in the street where you just were. They were looking up and down the street, as if they were confused as to where someone had gone. Ominously, they were both holding out their wands.

“That was close. Very close,” Tristan breathed out.

You suddenly realized how warm his hand was against your lips, and how he was panting slightly. He must’ve run quite hard to get to me.

You started to speak, but just then, Tristan mumbled, “If Cas is around, we’re dead. We need to get out of here now.” He dropped his hand from your mouth and grasped your wrist.

“Hey, what -?”

Crack!

*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

The two of you appeared back at Graves’ estate.

“What the hell?” you shouted, frustrated with Tristan. Damn it, I just spent all morning escaping this place, you thought to yourself. I can’t be back already.

“How did you even know where I was?” you asked Tristan accusingly.

Tristan sighed. Reaching over, he gripped your wrist and held it up. Your oversized sleeve fluttered back to reveal the thin, silver bracelet that he had put on you last night.

“Did you forget? You’re my charge,” Tristan explained shortly.

“Oh,” you said shortly, disgruntled.

Artemis pawed at you softly.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you told her, “it works like the bell I put on you.” 

Artemis’ ears popped up softly as she cocked her head at you. Then, she pointed her nose at Graves before looking pointedly up at you again.

“No,” you stressed. “I am not his pet.”

Tristan had now entered his house once again, and as you stepped in, he shut the door behind you suddenly. Then, whirling around to face you, Tristan said to you coldly, “You don’t seem to understand how dire the situation is.”

“Oh, really?” you said sarcastically.

But Tristan answered seriously, “Because you don’t seem to realize that I just saved your life.”

At this, you fell silent for a moment. Artemis looked curiously up at Tristan again. Her ears twitched, as if to say, Why are you angry with us? We didn’t do anything wrong.

Finally, you replied, quite irritated, “Well, of course I don’t understand what’s going on. No one’s told me a bloody thing since I got here. I’ve been stripped of my belongings, had my clothes searched without consent, been interrogated as though I were some criminal, and still, no one gives me the time of day for any explanation.”

You started to shove past Tristan, but he suddenly grabbed your arm, holding you in place before him. “I know you don’t trust me, and I understand that. You’re frightened. You’re angry. I would be, too. But you need to listen, or else even I won’t be able to do you any favors.”

“Why would you do me favors?” you asked him, untrusting.

“Because,” Tristan replied, “I’m the only one who actually believes that the Nine-Tailed Fox truly exists. The others on the Magical Law Enforcement committee, they don’t care for myths and fantasies. They much prefer to believe the simpler story.”

“Which is…?”

Quietly, but matter-of-factly, Graves began to speak. “I’m sure you know this already, seeing as you knew what a Death Eater was, but a Dark Wizard who calls himself Lord Voldemort is gathering followers. Not just human followers, but all manners of Dark Creatures. Giants, dementors, and even kappas, are launching attacks against Wizarding and Muggle populations alike. To save these populations from future attacks, we have to strictly regulate animal trafficking. Then, I hear that a young woman, coming from Japan and returning to England, is evidently carrying an XXXXX-level creature on her. Now, you tell me whether or not I should be concerned.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden wave of information you’d been given. How did I get wrapped up in all of this? you wondered, stunned. I was just going after the Nine-Tailed Fox. It had nothing to do with Lord Voldemort. And yet, it’s true that if I was in Graves’ shoes, I would have been wary of someone like me. Still…

You reasoned slowly, “But… I’m not carrying a creature.”

Tristan gazed down at you, and for a long moment, you could neither make heads nor tails of his gaze.

“What?” you pressed defensively.

Tristan seemed to weigh his words in his mind, before he finally told you, Two years ago, I sent Rowan Scamander and his father on a mission to track every listed Dark Creature out there, because, as I said, we had begun to notice Dark Creatures beginning to behave differently. When his father, Newt, mentioned the Nine-Tailed Fox as a dangerous creature, for its ability to take on human form and suck the souls out of humans, Rowan said that the Nine-Tailed Fox usually went after men, so for that reason, it was best to leave the hunt for the Nine-Tailed Fox to a young woman. I see now that that young woman must have been you.”

“Rowan mentioned me?” you said, confused.

“Yes, I thought it strange, too,” Tristan replied. “But Rowan’s always been strange. But if he so believed in you, then I find it difficult to believe that you didn’t find the Fox.”

You flushed. Letting Tristan believe that the Nine-Tailed Fox was one thing, but having him know that you had really encountered the Fox was a completely different risk, and one that you were not prepared to take.

You tried to divert. “So, then, why are those two Aurors trying to kill me? Aren’t they under your control? Why would they disobey you and come after me?” You tried to play on Tristan’s pride, trying to put him in a position where he would feel the need to justify himself, and therefore forget about what he was asking you.

Tristan sighed. He didn’t seem fazed at all by your challenging him, but he answered you nonetheless, “Let’s just say… They don’t believe in the Nine-Tailed Fox. So, they wouldn’t believe your story.”

“But what’s an Obscurial? Once that word came out, it was like everyone suddenly wanted to kill me,” you inquired, repeating your question from yesterday.

Tristan merely shook his head. “Anyways, now that you understand, you realize that you must stay with me.”

“No,” you pushed back, “I’d be safer if I were home. Why can’t you just let me go?”

Tristan’s eyes turned stern and unrelenting. “You have a choice here: you either stay with me and have some modicum of privacy, or you remain in the MCUSA prison, where the likelihood of getting assassinated runs quite high. Which will it be?”

“Neither, because neither gives me any freedom to live my life,” you protested. “You say I can stay with you, but in doing so, I’m subjected to all of these conditions!”

“Well, yes,” Tristan conceded. “You must acquiesce to surveillance by me. You mustn’t try to run and you cannot attempt to contact anyone.”

Indignantly, you spat out at him, “That’s my entire life!”

“Exactly!” Tristan said back, through gritted teeth. “It is your life on the line, and I am trying to help you.” Tristan stared at you harshly as he repeated, “I’m the only one who’s trying to keep you alive.”

You stared back at him, but your gaze was confused. I still don’t know what’s going on. Why is he insistent on keeping me here? And why won’t he tell me what an Obscurial is?

Realizing that he wouldn’t budge on this topic just yet, you went for another line of attack. You tried not to appear too ashamed as you asked him, almost condescendingly, “And keeping me alive has nothing to do with the fact that we slept together last night?”

Hopefully, this question embarrasses him so much that he’ll be obliged to answer my questions, you thought grumpily.

At this, Tristan blinked. “What did you say?”

Oh, God, don’t make me say it again, you groaned in your head. But you steeled yourself as you repeated, painfully, “Keeping me alive - it’s got nothing to do with the fact that we had sex last night, right? I mean, you’re not some sort-of creep, are you?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Tristan said, shaking his head at you. “What on earth do you take me for?”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are,” you hissed back angrily. “Apparently, you’re the Head of the Aurors for MCUSA, but you can’t even control your own Aurors. You live in this huge estate, practically alone, except for Susana, and - ”

“I could very well give you to my Aurors, and then, I would have complete control and loyalty from them,” Tristan snapped at you, finally splintering that seemingly untouchable resolve of his. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” you shot back. “And don’t pretend this is about what I want. It’s not my fault you’re an incompetent Head of Aurors!”

Tristan’s voice became utterly scornful, as he suddenly said to you, “You know nothing about persuading people, do you?”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Tristan told you. “You’ve never thought about negotiation or compromise. You live life on your own terms, and you think, ‘to hell with anyone who doesn’t understand me.’ Isn’t that right?”

You blinked, as his words washed over you. Is that true? Well, at school, yes, I was very temperamental and I was only concerned with myself, but that was because so many people bullied me. But with Remus, I tried to compromise. I gave him all I had. I even stayed for him… But… Did I fail? I suppose so. There’s really nothing else to call it but failure…

You had fallen silent. Artemis whined in concern and butted her head against your chest, but you didn’t respond to her.

Tristan’s eyes were cold, as he said to you, “If you truly wanted my help, the proper response to my saying, ‘I’m trying to save your life,’ is to say, ‘thank you.’ Regardless of what you felt was the truth, regardless of whether you intended to kill me in my sleep or not, you should have made me feel like I want to help you. But you’re too honest. Consequently, I feel no desire to help you whatsoever.”

“Then don’t,” you said hotly. “Don’t help me. I never asked for it.”

Tristan’s eyes flashed angrily at you.

You glared up at him. “Why are you even helping me in the first place? No, even before that, why should I trust you?”

Tristan was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know how to convince you to trust me, except that I have saved you time and time again, even if you don’t realize it.” Then, he murmured, almost grudgingly, “As for why I’m helping you… I suppose it’s because, if nothing else, I trust Rowan Scamander.”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

Tristan looked up at you. His steely emerald eyes flashed in the dim lighting of the doorway. “Never mind,” he sighed heavily. “Let’s leave this discussion for now.”

Tristan began to sweep past you, leaving you behind in the doorway. But just before he turned the corner, he looked back at you and he remarked coldly, “And we didn’t sleep together last night.”

With that, he was gone.

*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

You frowned. We didn’t sleep together? But then, how come I remember…?

Flashes of the night before – a black robe dropping to the floor, followed quickly by your smaller, silk white robe falling and nestling within the larger black robe; cold, yet not unkind fingers touching you, delving into your warmth and turning it into wetness; uncertain, stuttering kisses that somehow continued, like too many commas in a sentence – went through your mind like a series of arrows fired at the back of your mind.

You bit down on your lower lip. Well, maybe we didn’t have sex, but we certainly did something, didn’t we?

*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Once he left you standing in the doorway, Tristan returned to his room and he flopped back in his chair.

Tristan Graves wanted this entire debacle to be over. He wanted sleep. He wanted rest. He wanted the unquestioning loyalty of his Aurors once again. He didn’t want to waste his time and energy on one poor girl and her fox. He had better, more important things to do – like fight the rising Dark Lord, for instance.

Rowan, you ass, Tristan thought in his head, I wish you’d never told me about the Nine-Tailed Fox and this girl in the first place. Damn you.

Tristan tiredly rubbed his eyes. He’d barely slept at all last night. He’d been too busy musing over what had happened with you.

Last night…

Last night, Tristan had said to you, “It’s nearly two in the morning. Return to your room, and go to sleep.”

He started to turn away from you, with every intention of returning to his room, but he suddenly felt himself jerked back a little, for you were clutching onto the end of his sleeve. When Tristan turned back, you were looking straight into his eyes. You whispered, in a voice that sounded strangely unlike you, “But I can’t. And you wouldn’t leave me all alone like this, would you?”

Your gaze was so very seductive. You were blinking as though you had his very heart in his hand, and you knew very well that you could make his heartbeat pulse to the same time as yours, if you so chose.

For a moment, Tristan swore that he could see a silvery spark of light dancing around your irises.

“You said you’d give me what I want,” you whispered, speaking not as though you’d met just this afternoon, only hours ago, but as though the two of you were lovers from a prior lifetime, and he had promised you something once.

Tristan’s heart stopped for a moment. Nothing in his expression betrayed it, but suddenly, a very precious memory was playing out in his head, a memory of a certain girl whispering to him, both shyly and indignantly, “You said you’d give me what I want.”

You spoke again, and your voice, so silky and yet very bright, suddenly melded with a voice speaking directly to Tristan’s mind. Tristan Graves, I hear the pain in your soul, a woman’s voice whispered directly into Tristan’s mind. Come, let me heal your wounds… I promise to bring you pleasure, if only just for the night…

Pleasure. It was a foreign word to Tristan. At least, it had been a long time since he’d felt anything close to pleasure. Not since he’d lost her. Not since he’d lost…

Before Tristan knew it, he had reached for you, and now, his hands were buried in your silky, silver hair, and he was pulling your head back to push your face up. He gazed into your eyes intensely, and he found exactly what he expected – that pleased, seductive gaze that was both you and not you.

But before he could react, your hands were already slipping into his robe, at long last touching his bare chest. Your fingers slipped over the small silver padlock lying on his chest, and Tristan let out a sharp breath.

Yes, the voice whispered, I know. I know what you’ve lost. I cannot give you back what you once had, but I can comfort you tonight.

“Comfort…”

Yes.

“Tristan,” you whispered aloud, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him. “You said I was your charge. Will you do as you promised, and look after me?”

Tristan neither moved towards you nor away from you. He remained as steady as a rock, simply letting you lean into him.

“You do understand that you’re the one who’s coming onto me, right?” Tristan murmured softly. “So, let’s be very clear. Do I have permission to touch you?”

Your head went up and down once.

“Speak up.”

Something inside of you purred, very much liking this charismatic man. You felt a nudge inside of you, and you suddenly found yourself pressed up against Tristan, with your hands gathered between his chest and your breasts, and your blushing cheek pressed flush against his chest.

Irately, Tristan said, “What do you think you’re doing? Did you even hear a word I said?”

You shook your head. No.

But a silvery voice whispered inside of your head, yes. The answer is yes.

“Y-Yes…”

Ask him for help. This man will give it to you. He is worthy of you, of us.

Us?

Us.

“Please…”

A long moment of silence followed. It took you five long seconds to realize that that was your voice, begging.

Tristan looked down at you, and he saw in your eyes, blinking up at him, just as much surprise and confusion as he was feeling.

“Just a moment,” Tristan told you. He made a sudden motion, raising his hand into the air and beckoning with his fingers. In an instant, the door of the study shut behind you.

You paused, gazing up at him hesitantly. He performs wandless magic so easily.

“Now,” he whispered to you, “come closer.”  

You let out a soft breath as you reached out and grabbed the front of his robes. You pulled yourself closer to him, though the couch still separated the two of you. But like this, Tristan was able to reach down and slip his hand under your sleeping gown.

You held your breath as you felt Tristan’s hand push under and up your gown to touch your thighs.

You bit down on your lower lip to keep yourself from making any sound, while his fingers inched up the plush inside of your thigh, coming closer and closer to where you needed him most.

But he paused, just as his fingers grazed your panty line.

He whispered to you, “Do I have permission to make you cum?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, before you could help yourself. My whole body’s on fire. My mind is all fuzzy. I just need… release.

Tristan nodded. Then, he wrapped one arm around your waist, picked you up, and set you down gently on the edge of the sofa.

“Open your legs a little more,” he said, and he spoke to you unexpectedly gently.

You slowly began to spread your legs for him. In your mind, you were thinking confusedly, Relying on a stranger like this - What am I thinking?

But you’d been fighting your desire to be touched for hours now, even since Tristan had cast that spell on you in the Aurors’ Chamber.

Yes, this must be the effect of the spell, your mind whispered to you. So, this is his fault. And it’s only right that he helps me now, you thought, desperately trying to justify this strange situation. Right?

A soft, cruel laugh rang out in the back of your head.

At the same time, you felt Tristan’s eyes slid down your body, from your face to between your legs. You felt suddenly embarrassed. Who is he to look at me this way?

Confused by all of the noise in your head, you leaned forward and buried your head against Tristan’s shoulder, against his robe. At the same time, Tristan was beginning to slide his fingers up towards your center, when your thighs suddenly clamped shut on Tristan’s hand, stopping him from touching you.

“No…” you moaned softly. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. It’s just – I can’t – What are we doing? Why am I like this right now?”

Perhaps it was because Tristan had heard Rowan talking so warmly of you, or perhaps it was because Tristan had inherited some of his late father’s sense of responsibility after all, or perhaps it was simply because your vulnerability was slipping out so obviously at the moment, but Tristan couldn’t help except to see you underneath all of your disguises and layers. And you were clearly struggling.

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered to you. Though you didn’t know Tristan at all, you could sense the promise in his voice.

“But… It’s still… We can’t,” you still protested.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t just make love with a man I barely met,” you finally admitted aloud.

“Of course we won’t make love,” Tristan said matter-of-factly.

“We won’t?”

“No. We’ll only go as far as you want.” Tristan asked you straightforwardly, “Don’t you want to be touched?”

You hesitated. “Yes, but… You don’t want anything from me?”      

Tristan gazed at you for a moment. If you had known him between, you would have recognized how he was calculating his moves. But you didn’t. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t.” His voice hovered slightly in the air, as though he wanted you to catch him in his lie.

Tristan even gave you a moment to respond, but when you neither moved nor spoke, he said, “So, we’re settled, then.”

Then -

“Ah!” you gasped loudly as you felt Tristan’s fingers finally push up against you. His hand was cold, and when his hand pressed against your burning, wet little pussy, even though it was still through your boyshorts, you gave a little jolt.

“Mm, you do need to be touched,” Tristan whispered, surprised by how wet your little pussy was.

You groaned softly, and you buried your face back against his shoulder, whimpering slightly.

“You’re very wet. In fact, you’re dripping,” Tristan murmured, gently pushing his fingers against you, feeling exactly how wet you were. “Are you always like this? Always so needy? We just met, you know, but your need to be touched is so… intensely palpable. You make it so very obvious. Is that on purpose? To mess with my mind? Is it a play, or rather, a plea for chivalry?”

“Hm?” As Tristan pushed you for answers, he pressed his fingers against you harder.

“O-Oh…!” You whimpered louder and gripped onto the front of his robes, overwhelmed by the sense of desire crashing deep in your little tummy at Tristan’s barest touch. But you were also so confused. I didn’t mean to… That wasn’t me saying, “Please.” No, that wasn’t me begging.

“N-Ngh,” you mumbled out, through gritted teeth. Tristan’s fingers were working your little pussy busily, reveling in how wet you were. Quickly, – too quickly, you thought – he pulled aside your boyshorts, yanking them to the side in one, sharp jerk. No, why is he -? Remus took his time with me. He wasn’t so – so fast. I don’t like this… Only Remus… It’s only Remus that I want to touch me.

Tristan made to touch you bare, but you suddenly yelped out, “Wait!”

You abruptly made to rip away from him, but you were still clutching onto the front of his robes, so as you pulled yourself back, you accidentally dragged him forward.

Startled, Tristan instinctively reached out and he held onto you, suddenly putting his arm around your waist and drawing you in to him.

“What is it? Are you all right?” he asked you, watching your face carefully for any sign of hesitation, upon which he would immediately pull away from you.

A fiery blush blossomed fervently across your face. Somehow this – being held, being asked so gently what you wanted – it all felt more intimate than being touched between your legs. Because it reminded you of someone very dear to your heart.

No, why can’t I get away from Remus? you thought in your own head, exhausted with yourself. I don’t want everything to remind of him. But I can’t help it. I thought that hunting for the Fox would heal me, but it doesn’t stop me from missing Remus. I miss him so much.  

At that very moment, a voice hissed in your head, What are you doing, crying over an old love? You have a man in front of you.  

All of a sudden, a rush of tingling sensation, and the deep desire to be filled washed over you.

Oh, God, you moaned in your head. What is going on? I feel so – so flushed…

Trying desperately to ignore the little thumping going in between your legs, you murmured, “I’ll just – um – I’ll just go to bed.”

“Can you?” Tristan asked you, and if you weren’t wrong, there was a glint of amusement in his eyes, and the tiniest smirk at the corner of his lips. “Can you go to sleep when you’re all… worked-up like this?”

His fingers suddenly pushed again at your warm, dripping cunt.

You gasped. “I – I – Uhn…” Your pussy throbbed wetly, and you moaned softly.

“You’re so sensitive right now, aren’t you?” Tristan murmured, watching all of your reactions to his simple touches. “I bet I can make you cum without even touching you.”

“Wha – Ah!”

Tristan suddenly pulled your panties up, pulling them up between your wet pussy lips until the thin, soft cloth was tugging at your little pussy, especially against your clit.

“A-Ah!” you stuttered out. “What are you d-doing?”

“I’m…” Tristan paused, as he chose his words carefully, “… helping you.”

He glanced down to see your hips shivering, and your soaked-through panties snug against your clit.

“Mm,” he breathed out softly, in spite of himself. He pulled at your panties a little harder, fisting them, pulling them up sharply against you.

You cried out loudly, “Ah!” as the taut, sharp pressure of that thin line of fabric pressing right up against you made a jolt of pleasure run right through your sweet cunt, right up into your tummy. Your hands flew up and you gripped at Tristan’s shoulders hard.

Tristan kept rubbing your panties against you, yanking at them a little over and over again, so that the fabric was rubbing your clit all over and even tugging right up against your pussyhole.

Oh God, you moaned to yourself in your head, don’t tell me I’m going to cum from this.

But you couldn’t help it. Tristan was yanking at your panties harder and harder, taking you higher and higher, making that golden feeling in your tummy become more and more intense – until –

“Uhn!”

Suddenly, your thighs trembled. A second later, hot, wet cum splashed onto your thighs, leaving your now stretched-out panties just as dripping wet as your pussy was.

You breathed out harshly, so very relieved. Inside of your soul, too, you felt a distinct trembling, as you finally came.

Tristan’s eyes flashed, as he saw what he wanted to see, what he wanted to confirm – your form not only shivering, but changing.

A blank, silver haze infiltrated your mind, and the pleasure that you normally felt from cumming was heightened. It was all soft, soft as snow, and yet… your entire body was buzzing from pleasure.

Your pretty mouth opened a little as you let out a little breath of relief. “Ah…”

You didn’t realize that you were panting so prettily, nor that you were tugging at the front of Tristan’s robe again, but he acquiesced and bent his head down to kiss you, as you so clearly desired.

“You’re trembling. Calm down,” Tristan whispered to you. At the same time, his finger finally slipped inside of you, to feel the heat inside of you.

“Mm,” you huffed out. Your eyes were closed, and you were still panting, but you managed to whisper back, “I – I am calm. I’m just – um - ” you swallowed.

“You’re warm,” Tristan finished for you. “All warm and soft and like.”

“I… am?”

“Well, your little cunt is,” Tristan told you, smirking ever so slightly.

“Oh…” For some reason, his praise made your cunt flutter.

Tristan breathed harshly into your kiss, as he felt your wet, soft pussy still pulsing gently around his finger.

Yes, she’s unexpectedly warm when she’s like this. So very warm, he thought blurrily. And slowly, Tristan, too, began to see nothing but a landscape of brilliant, white snow, and his sense of pleasure at your pleasure heightened.

“Graves…”

“It’s Tristan.”

“Oh, um. Tristan…”

“Yes?”

“I – ah…”

You broke off, as Tristan gently and quietly slipped a second finger inside of you, wanting to feel more of your warm little cunt around his fingers, all dripping with your cum.

Feeling Tristan’s fingers starting to gently spread you open, it felt like he had suddenly pressed his fingers right up against the fuzzy outlines of your very soul.

“Uhn, h-how many fingers...?” you panted out, as your thighs began to quiver.

“What?”

“How many fingers do you have in-inside of me? Hah... Ah... Nngh...” 

“Only two.” 

Only two? But it feels so good, and so - so... Uhn, how do I describe it? It startled you, nearly terrified you, to have this complete stranger suddenly affecting you in such an intense way. The only man who had ever made you feel this way was…

No, you groaned in your head, not again. Please don’t let me think of Remus again.

Embarrassed and yet too exhausted to fight it any longer, you fell forward against Tristan’s chest. However, that motion caused your lips to graze the silver lock lying on Tristan’s chest. Strangely, it burned, and you cried out as you quickly turned your head away.

“Ah!” At the same time that the locket burned your lips, you suddenly released, and you creamed a beautiful white cum all over Tristan’s fingers.

Tristan groaned when he felt you cum so heavily. With his other hand, he quickly reached up and took your chin in his hand, making you look up at him. You swore something brushed the top of your head as he pulled your head back gently, but you were confused. He was quite a bit taller than you, so what had you brushed up against?

You paused, blinkingly confusedly. Oh, it must be my hair, you realized. It’s probably a right mess. You started to let go of Tristan and reach up to feel the top of your head, to pat down your hair.

At that moment, Tristan reached down and gripping your hips, he pulled you forward and slid you onto his thigh. 

“Did you cum from only two fingers?” Tristan asked you, amused. 

"What? No, I...”

But you did, a voice whispered in your head.

You hesitated, biting down on your lower lip.

“Let me feel just how wet you are,” Tristan murmured to you. “Rub yourself all over my thigh. I want to feel that cunt  of yours spreading cum all over me.” Even though his voice was barely a murmur, it undoubtedly carried all the authority of a command.

Still, you were hesitant. You slid forward, but you lifted your hips a little, so that you weren’t actually sitting on his thigh.

But just then, you felt Tristan’s warm, strong hands grasping at your hips to hold you against him, and you were suddenly sat right down on his thigh.

“Ah!” you gasped, as your wet little pussy pressed right up against his thigh and your pussy lips spread until Tristan could feel your wetness on his thigh.

Tristan groaned softly. Still holding your hips in a grip so tight it nearly hurt, he made you rub yourself back and forth on his thigh.

You couldn’t deny that it felt so good to finally let go like this. But, when Tristan kept holding onto you, not letting you go, your heart thumped painfully. He’s gripping my waist so hard. Remus would never… And it’s not Tristan’s lap that I want to sit in…

Suddenly, your mind conjured up a soft, blurry, sun-lit memory of hugging Remus while slowly and sensually pushing your hips against him. He’d hugged you so tightly, but so gently, and encouraged you to cum for him in that sweet, gentle voice of his. When you’d finally cummed all over him, you tried to catch your breath, but you were barely being able to take a little swallow of air before Remus’ mouth was pushing softly and adoringly against yours. Your heart began to rise in happiness - But then, the memory sank quickly into dark waters, and suddenly, a vision of dead ferns resting atop black lake water flooded your mind.

You shivered. No, stop that, you admonished yourself. You closed your eyes, and you reminded yourself, That path is gone now.

Yes, it is, little bird. Follow the path before you now. Stop resisting.

You reached up, and wrapping your arms around Tristan’s neck, you kissed him. It felt so cold, so devoid of everything that made a kiss special. Still, his lips parting slightly to grasp back at yours made something purr happily in your chest, and you couldn’t help except to turn your head to kiss him deeper.

“Mmm…” you breathed out.

“So wet,” he whispered against your lips. “And I didn’t even touch you to make you cum the first time, let alone fuck you.”

Tristan seemed to smirk, as he murmured, between kisses, “If I fucked you, you would squirt, wouldn’t you? I can just tell.”

You scoffed, but Tristan’s smirk only deepened.

You started to push him away indignantly, but he didn’t budge, he didn’t even notice you trying to push at him. Instead, you accidentally pushed Tristan’s robe off of his shoulders. It slid off of his built, svelte body, and fell to the floor.

A moment later, Tristan, thinking that you wanted the two of you naked, quickly reciprocated, making short work of the knot at the front of your own robe. That was how, only a second after Tristan’s black robe dropped to the floor, your smaller, silk white robe fell, too, falling right atop and slipping inside of his black robe on the floor.

Tristan wrapped one arm tightly around your waist and with his other hand, he cradled your head. You shivered when you felt his cold hand touch the back of your neck, but there was no time to think about it, for he was slowly but firmly pushing you down onto the sofa behind you.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out, as you fell back.

“You should lie down,” Tristan told you. 

“Well, then, you’re coming with me.” You pulled Tristan down with you, and you pressed your lips against his again. 

Tristan hesitated. But then, he closed his eyes and let you have your way with him. He returned your kisses, every one, though they were uncertain and stuttering kisses. 

It was a strange encounter for the two of you. For while it seemed patently clear that the two of you had absolutely nothing in common; yet, it also seemed clear that this wasn’t just some hook-up, because despite the fact that it was plain that the two of you would not have sex tonight, you and Tristan were still wrapped up in each other’s arms, sharing the tight, thin space of a sofa, and kissing each other as though you were young, first-time lovers. 

Silk robes on the floor, collections of ancient books lining the walls, and a velvet sofa in front of a fireplace... The fire provided the only light in the room. You and Tristan were but silhouettes - uncertain, shifting shadows trying to figure each other out. Illuminated and defined by the flickering flames behind you, the shadow of your body shape was softly outlined against his broader, stronger frame. Captured in that moment, you and Tristan could have been the subjects of a still painting - except that you were still moving, still kissing each other. 

“Mm…” you breathed out softly, your warm, little mouth still captured in his careful, yet tender lips. 

Tristan’s head shifted back slightly, and then forward, to kiss you more deeply.

“Mm…” you murmured again pleasantly. Your eyes slipped shut. 

Soon, your soft, warm, little moans faded away into soft breaths.  “Mmm…”

“Are you falling asleep?”

Am I? I suppose so. I’m tired. Exhausted, actually.

“…Yes.”

A moment later, you felt a warm hand on your face.

“You’re crying. Why are you crying?”

You hesitated. Is this still Tristan, or am I imagining Remus?

“Shush,” you whispered to your imagination.

“Tell me.”

You sighed. Oh, Remus, it’s you, isn’t it? I can’t get my mind off you.

“Because,” you confessed in a whisper. “I did everything I could, but I’m still not free. And I’m lonely. I never knew loneliness like this before.”

“You told me not to save you. You said that I should let you die. Did you mean that?”

You paused. Wait, this isn’t… Oh God, is this still Tristan? Is this even reality anymore? Am I dreaming?

Confused, you mumbled out, “…You ask too many questions. I’m tired.”

“Who are you right now? …Silver, not blue.”

Colors… Colors… A vivid fragmentation of an emerald – that was how you saw Tristan Graves. That was how little you knew about him, anyways. His disarming eyes. The rest of him – his mind, his heart, his soul… you knew nothing of. All you knew was that this young man lying down with you was that, his eyes were strangely…

“…Vivid.”

“Hm?”

Yes, Tristan Graves was a stranger. That was why he felt so vivid to you. Because he was unfamiliar. Entirely unfamiliar. He wasn’t your home. Remus Lupin was.

“A vivid green,” you whispered again, feeling the cracks in your heart splintering wider and wider apart. It hurt. “But you’re not him. You’re not him.”

“You’re speaking in riddles.”

That void in your soul… Something was replacing it – water, or moonlight, perhaps – something silvery and soothing, a balm of heavenly waters, was cresting over your chest.

But it demanded one thing: that you turn away from understanding your own pain. That you turn towards pleasure, to mask the pain.  

So, you whispered, “Well, swallow them all tonight. Kiss me. I want your mouth on mine again.”

By now, somehow, you and Tristan had come to lie side-by-side on the sofa, and you were nestled in his arms. It was easy, far too easy, for the two of you to turn towards each other, and to kiss again… until finally, your head gently fell back against his arm, and your eyes slipped shut, and you fell asleep.

*    *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Tristan Graves stared at you, in your strange form. For you had white, fluffy ears on the top of your head now. In fact, they had appeared some time ago, and the feeling of your soft ears tickling his chin had been what had made Tristan grasp your chin and gently pull you away from his chest, so he could get a proper look at you.

Your face was still yours, there was no physical change there - but your gaze, the way your eyes tightened slightly, creating a seductive gaze that invited Tristan in - was definitely not yours, or at least not what you intended. What was more, that silvery light dancing just around your irises gave your normally dark eyes a fascinating, alluring glow. It mesmerized Tristan, and it would have all but hypnotized a lesser man; however, fortunately, Tristan had the sense to still be wary.

You had no tail, but still - Tristan felt that he had his answer.

See, Tristan Graves didn’t help you just to help you – mere responsibility for an individual would never move such a man. Instead, he pretended to give into you because he knew that he had to figure you out. Tonight’s events - playing into your little game and getting your heartbeat up and making you shiver, just as he had when he performed that low-level Electric Spell on you in the Chambers - was his little test to see if you would react the way you did back in the Chamber today; that is, whether you would change form.

Now as you lay on his arm and slept soundly, your form slowly changed back, but Tristan was sure of it now – somehow, the Nine-Tailed Fox had come to possess you.

Tagged Users: @areomalfoy 

[serensama]

To Release #2

To Release #2

Zen needs to let MC go.

Years ago, I had asked the amazing @promiscuous-jalapeno to write a HC for me when I was too scared to write my own and she did an amazing job- tore me right up it did. I asked her shortly thereafter if she minded if I tried to do it and she was kind enough to encourage me. Nearly 4 years and I’ve finally done it.

Trigger warnings: Character death, mentions of blood and aneurysm.

This is for my friend, my sister- Susana. I don’t know how to let you go. But one day I will. And one day I will see you again. Rest well until then dear one.

This is for my baby, my puppy Meiko- run free my little one. I know you’ll be waiting for me too. Keep Susana company and keep her safe until we catch up, okay? Good Boy. 

-       It wasn’t a particularly long or difficult day when it happened.

-       They were wrapping up the film and just going over the last few scenes that Zen wasn’t thrilled with; ever the perfectionist he didn’t want sub-par acting from him or his co-stars, he loved his fans too much to offer them nothing but the best.

-       The director hadn’t called cut but everyone had started to make a commotion on the set and forced the actor to stop and look around. A crowd had congregated near the catering table, someone calling for the onsite doctor for one of the crew who had seemingly fainted.

-       The director walked towards the people and when she got close enough to see what or who the cause of the ruckus was, she spun on her heel and screamed out to him.

-       Zen turned towards the sound of his name and saw his director calling him over with frenzied hands, urging him to quicken his pace and pointing towards the throng of people- “… It’s MC.”

-       The actor had pushed one of his colleagues out of his way, apologising to them in his head as he bounded over to where the director had motioned to. He easily pulled people away to let him through when he finally got to eye of the masses, his MC laying on the floor in a heap. Her arms were thrown askew and her legs in an odd angle, a trickle of blood from where she caught her head against the edge of the table forming a pool of the rich, dark liquid beneath her.

-       Zen hissed curses at the idle idiots around him, just standing there slack jawed staring at his girlfriend instead of doing anything else.

-       With a gentleness he only ever showed to her, he caressed the inside of her wrist softly careful to not jostle her in case she hurt her neck or back with her fall. “MC, baby, please wake up, let me see those beautiful eyes again,” he cooed, praying his voice was enough to coax her from her unconsciousness. When she furrowed her brow but remained wholly unresponsive, he tried once again, convinced he could reach her. “Come on baby, I know you. You’re probably screaming at yourself for falling and being careless- especially with so much to do. So do it, kick your own ass and wake up. You can do this. Show me how strong you are MC.”

-       Her eyelashes began to flutter as she sluggishly began to move.

-       Zen exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding and a collective sigh of relief was released on set. Everyone knew and loved the ivory haired star but the only thing he was ever pedantic about to a fault was the health and safety of his manager, his girlfriend- his ‘whole world’. He couldn’t care less if all they gave him was warm water for lunch so long as she was well taken care of and comfortable.

-       The doctor finally reached them and quickly rushed the remaining stragglers away from the couple, even managing to push Zen back when he said he needed more room to make sure MC was okay, the young man hovering around them, pacing worriedly about the sidelines like a mother hen.

-       He watched on as the doctor patched her up, wincing as the thread and needle cinched up the gash- silently threatening the doctor to do a good job and not leave MC with a scar. However the more he thought of a scar on his girl got him a little excited, it would make her look mysterious, dangerous, his every own femme fatale- a physical representation of her inherent bad-assery for all the world to see.

-       Zen could feel the tension in his shoulders relax as she slowly stood up and accepted whatever direction the doctor was giving her. He practically sprinted to her side when the older man gestured for him to come over, his long, toned arms carefully gathering her to him and pressing soft kisses to her skin, ignoring the scent of dried blood mingling with her sweet perfume. “… and make sure she doesn’t fall asleep again until you’re at the hospital and she’s in their care. Your blood pressure is pretty low and you’ve looked paler as of late, have you been getting enough iron lately MC?” 

“Mhmm.” “Mm. Okay. Well go get those tests and make sure nothing too serious happened with that hit on your head. Make sure you watch out of her Zen,” the doctor instructed with a terse nod before taking his leave.

-       A few moments passed with Zen still holding onto MC, lips still against her brow. He wanted to remember what it felt like to hold her and feel her breath against his skin, the warmth of her body, the sting of the pinch at his… the hell?

-       Crimson eyes looked down to see MC pinching at his arm.

-       “AIR!” she finally managed as she pried herself away from him, her mouth open and gaping for the precious gas to enter her lungs once more. He chuckled as he allowed himself one final self-indulgent kiss on top the crown of her head and stepped back, letting her find her own footing and collect herself.

-       “What happened Jagi?” he asked, tucking an errant strand of hair back up into her messier messy bun. “Do you remember anything?”

-       MC grimaced as she thought back, trying to remember anything before waking up to a blistering pain in her head and the sounds of hushed whispers all around her, and the large worried eyes of her lover peering down at her. Ignoring the pounding at the base of her skull and the way her world was just slightly off kilter, she focused on the chain of events that led her there.

-       She had been looking over his schedule and worrying herself over how to get to one interview to another with only twenty minutes to spare across the city during peak hour traffic when she felt a sharp pain at the back of her eyes, acute and with such intensity she had to put her planner on the table and steady herself and then… nothing.

-       Zen frowned not liking what he was hearing. At first he thought that she had neglected herself again, probably forgetting to eat something during the day because she was so fixated on him and his commitments she disregarded her responsibility to herself- it wouldn’t be the first time. Although this time, it felt different. Apart from the fact that he had practically force fed MC lunch with him not two hours earlier, he didn’t like the way she had been acting in the days leading up to this episode. She had been more exhausted than normal, crashing into bed often without having a shower which was something she was loathe to do, always yelling at him for doing it if he stumbled home from the set late at night. She was irritable and short tempered, yes she was a fire cracker and he loved her for it, but he could see she was being snappish for no good reason and that just wasn’t his MC.

-       That and his dreams. Dreams he suppressed because they didn’t sit right with him, didn’t make sense, didn’t want to make sense of it. So he didn’t. It didn’t make sense that he would be in the middle of a choreographed number, with MC front row and centre watching him and he would do a turn and then she was gone. Just him alone on the stage, with people waiting for him to continue. It just didn’t make any sense.  

-       He would focus on what was real and happening in front of him and he would take things one step at a time instead of jumping to conclusions from stress addled dreams. Yes, that was it. It was the stress of this new movie. It was going to be the biggest one to date and with so much riding on his performance, there was no doubt that was what was causing such terrible images to play out before him the minute he closed his eyes.

-       “Let’s get you to the hospital okay Jagi?”

-       He almost throttled the doctor in the ER. How the hell did he dare say such things. He was going to ask for a second opinion and then a third. He wasn’t going to stop until he heard the right opinion, the only one that mattered. That MC was just fine. MC was going to live- anyone who said otherwise was going to taste the heel of his boot.

-       “I know it’s difficult to hear but as it stands it might be best to start making some arrangements just in case-”

“You need to stop talking Doc,” he ground out behind his teeth, both hands squeezing against the metal of MC’s hospital bed. “Zen,” she chided with a disapproving look but with a gentle hand on his arm. “Let him speak.”

He shook his head and crossed his arms in front of him like he was trying to intimidate a better diagnosis out of him instead of the bullshit he was already sprouting.

“Not unless he goes back and does those tests again and comes back with some different results, because those are wrong,” he replied pointing at the chart the doctor held in his hands. To his credit the older man didn’t flinch too badly at Zen’s bullying, probably used to all kinds of bargaining from people in the ER. “As much as I wish they were wrong… they aren’t. I’m afraid there isn’t much else that can be done- what we’ve found is an intracranial aneurysm and at the size it’s managed to get we need to do emergency surgery or it’s at great risk of rupturing. All I’m saying is that the surgery comes with risks- as if it does rupture during the surgery she could have a stroke or receive permanent brain damage and, as such, she should get everything in order in case the worst were to happen-” “What we need you to say Doc is that the surgery is going to save her life and everything will be fine,” he snapped pointing at him menacingly. Zen tapped on the clipboard and then into the doctor’s chest to get his point across.

-       The doctor sighed and gave MC a pointed look which she wordlessly responded with a nod, still disoriented from trying to catch up with what the man had just said. “Can you believe that guy? What kind of bed side manner was that? Jumin would be classified as downright cuddly compared to that guy,” Zen bristled, a shiver climbing up his spine as he thought about both men. MC sighed as she grabbed Zen’s hand, squeezing it to steel herself for what was to come. “The last thing you need to hear before impromptu surgery is hey- you’re probably gonna kick the bucket so make sure you know who is going to get your china.” “Jaehee is going to get the China. Saeyoung my shoes,” she grinned, stroking at the smooth skin on the back of his hand absentmindedly. “Yoosung said he wanted my gear from LOLOL, V will have my sketchbook and Jumin all my cat paraphernalia. You can keep my lingerie.”

-       MC was giggling until she looked up at Zen’s face, his downturned mouth and sparkling eyes clearly showed a man who was not impressed with the jokes she was telling. 

“Zen, Oppa, it’s going to be okay,” she soothed, bringing his forehead to touch hers, rubbing her nose to nuzzle him. “I need you to tell me it’s okay, that we’re going to be okay.” 

“You only ever call me Oppa when you want something,” Zen pouted as he returned the action, he took a deep breath in and stilled himself. MC was in his arms and she always would be. “Hey, hey I promise Jagi you are going to be fine. You are going to go in there and that aneurysm thing won’t be able to win against you, nothing can whenever you make your mind up. You’re my girl. You’re wonderful, feisty. My take no prisoners warrior queen- you’re going get out of this completely unscathed.”

-       MC sniffed and pulled back, clasping his larger hands with hers, her lips twitching at the sight of it. 

“But…” 

“No buts, that is until you are given the okay from the doctors that you’re all good after the surgery. Then this ass is mine,” he playfully growled, grabbing a handful of her rear to lighten the mood. MC laughed, an almost strangled noise through her tears and pecked him chastely on the lips. 

“But-”

“MC I know in my gut that this isn’t the end of you okay, I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, you know that right?” he said earnestly as he looked into her eyes.

-       “I know but-”

“But what?”

-       “My hair!” she wailed much to his surprise. “They’re going to shave a huge patch of my hair off and I’m going to look like an idiot!” she continued, fat tears rolling down her face.

-       Zen stared at her nonplussed before throwing his head back in laughter. This woman was strong. She wasn’t afraid of death. She feared for her style. She was his match in every way.

-       Before they took her in to prepare her, he asked a favour with the nurses at the station who wholeheartedly agreed to assist him in his quest.

-       Without a second thought or the slightest hesitation he cut off his pony tail and the nurses shaved off his signature ivory locks. MC screamed in protest but he would have none of it. 

“It’s you and me MC. Whatever you do, I do. Your hair will grow back with mine and we will do all of this together. So you make sure you get out of this surgery and we can get back to living our lives together,” he negotiated as they started to wheel her away. “Promise?”

“Promise!” she called out to him, holding up a pinkie finger as they rolled down the corridor.

-       Everything was hazy and everything felt heavy when she prized her eyes open, but she saw her handsome Zen and knew he was saying something sweet to her and all was right in the world. She could hear him saying something, she couldn’t quite make out exactly what but she knew they were comforting and probably stupid. Ah Jagi, you look so ravishing in that hospital gown or I got you baby girl or MC! You should have heard how you raved about my skills in bed as you came down from the anaesthetic! They need to keep me in the hospital to do all sorts of tests on how it could be possible for a man to be so beautiful and so talented in the bedroom- they say it’s some sort of genetic wonderment, I say it’s all because of you.

-       “Thank you for coming back to me.”

-       They said they did the best they could with what they had, that she would need constant supervision for the time being and they needed to keep close observation on the aneurysm to see if their intervention measures worked. That meant for the first time in a long time Zen willingly cancelled his schedule, all of his schedule. He didn’t attend any interviews or photoshoots, no fan-meets or even any online streaming events- his only goal was to care for MC. Even when she realised it was the premiere of his biggest feature film to date, the project she had fought so hard for him to get and he worked so diligently for- nothing would sway him. His place was with her and she just needed to get over the fact that there was nothing more important to him than her.

-       “Zen, don’t be a fool.” 

“I’m not. That’s why I’m staying here.”

“Zen! After everything we’ve done to get to this point, you need to be there!” 

“I don’t need to do anything but be here with you, you’re the only reason I’ve gotten anywhere these last 5 years!” he yelled back, clearly not budging from his stance. MC was about to retort with a snappy comeback but as she did she got a sharp pain in her head and got woozy, prompting Zen to rush over and pick her up like she were a doll and place her back on the bed all the while apologising for yelling at her and hurting her and if she really wanted him to go he would, whatever would make her feel better.

MC let out a small sniffle and outstretched her arms towards him prompting the man to lay beside her and hold her to him, his immense warm radiating into her, his body comfortable against her like a weighted blanket luring her into sleep.

“Don’t go. Stay with me.”

“Always.”

-       For a time after that, everything went well.

-       Her check-ups were positive and things seemed to be under control.

-       Then the headaches started. Not just the kind that a few ibuprofen could handle but the kind that had her crying, pulling at her skin to stop the pain. Then she had difficulty focusing her eyes at times. It was when she was falling down and forgetting how she got on the floor that he –

“I’m here Jagi. I’m right here. Don’t be scared… oh please… please don’t cry.”

-       Those dreams had come back again. And once again, he swept them away because he refused to accept them. He would change the outcome. He had already saved her once, he would do it again. He just needed time.

-       The doctors were useless. Absolutely useless. He punched one right in the face, it was a miracle he didn’t sue him. Perhaps he had felt sorry for MC and paid heed to her pained pleas that he not press charges against her carer. Or in truth, perhaps he felt sorry for him, the mess of a man on his hands and knees on the floor begging him to take his life instead of hers. As if the doctor had that kind of power to grant his wish. He would never know.

-       MC urged him, begged him to back to work. She would be fine. She could stay with her mother and he could pick her up and it would be fine-

“Whatever you do. I do, remember? If you’re staying here, then so am I- stop trying to get rid of me,” he scolded before attacking her with his wondrous fingers, finding every single ticklish spot on her to force her to forget such treacherous thoughts.

-       He had taken a liking to making her breakfast every day and actually eating with her, a luxury that they couldn’t afford during his normal timetable; she usually grabbed a large coffee for both of them to tide them over until they got on set to snack whatever they could before sharing lunch together… when possible. How they didn’t sit down more often to eat together all those years beforehand was baffling to him, it wasn’t something he was going to take for granted again. Moments with her just truly enjoying each other’s company with some good food as they sat in their pyjamas- he wouldn’t take it for granted anymore.

-       Some days he let her cook when her symptoms weren’t too severe and he wasn’t petrified she was going to chop her finger off accidentally trying to make a bowl of cereal. Zen had to duck from her attack of dry Cheerios when he had made the mistake of saying so out loud. Not that he minded, without his long hair it made cleaning himself up much easier.

-       He took the opportunity of being mostly unrecognisable to the public to go out and enjoy what they could. Going to the movies like a normal couple and tenderly making out in the back row when she felt up to it like some loved up teenagers. Going window shopping and having her try on outfits she had planned to wear for his future premieres and seeing her being fawned over by shop assistants made him beam with pride. None of those dresses would ever out shine her beauty for him… but the smile she gave him as he told her she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen when she donned a particularly dull dress, stole the air from his lungs.

-       Zen liked to take her out for walks around the city or they’d drive out somewhere nice to take in the sights of whichever town or park they found themselves in- until she grew too tired and he would carry her on his back like she weighed nothing, never once complaining if he had to carry her for five minutes or fifty.

-       Once the snow started he rented a cabin for the week and they lounged about naked as the day they were born; at times indulging in each other and others just lying in each other’s arms in silence. Words didn’t mean too much when Zen could understand everything her eyes silently confided in him. They said she loved him, that she was grateful to him and that with him, she was safe. That she was happy.

-       It was on their way back to Seoul that she had her first seizure.

-       She plummeted onto the ground, thankfully covered with fresh soft snow to cradle her fall. Zen tried to talk her through it, to keep her in a safe position until help arrived and the fit ceased. Seeing her so helpless, her body betraying her so completely and him utterly powerless to help her- he wanted to scream but this wasn’t about him, it was about her and he needed to focus on her. It couldn’t have been more than two minutes until she stopped shaking and her limbs started to relax under his hands and her breathing returned to normal. 

“Z-Zen?”

“I’m here Jagiya.” 

“I… I’m cold,” she said turning her face to look up at him. Zen looked into her eyes, he could see what she truly meant.

-       Zen, I’m scared.

-       Me too MC, me too.

-       The doctors did their tests. She looked so small in her hospital gown. So small and tired.

-       Their interventional measures… they were no longer working.

-       “There’s nothing else we can do.”

-       They walked together hand in hand down the stark white hallways of the hospital not saying a word, neither knowing how to proceed. He was feeling too many emotions to even begin picking out which one he was actively experiencing at any time, he could only imagine what MC was feeling. He felt a quick squeeze of his fingers and found MC gazing up at him, with clear eyes and a weak smile on her lips. 

“Let’s go home Zen.”

-       There’s nothing else we can do. Let’s enjoy the rest of whatever time I have.

-       He waited until she was asleep and went into the kitchen and pulled out six pack and drank, one after another, nothing able to sate the growing chasm in the pit of his stomach. When he had finished that pack he quickly checked up on MC who was still resting soundly and decided to walk down the street to the nearest convenience store and pick himself up another pack or three of any available alcoholic beverage to drown some of his sorrows. He was entitled to it god damn it, he just needed to feel nothing at all, no confusion, no to too many things to process at once - just a drunken stupor he’d regret in the morning. That’s what he needed.

-       He had gotten there and filled a little cart with so many beers they threatened to topple over, so he did the only reasonable thing and drank a few right there in the store. He could hear a few people whispering about the weird guy in the back chugging down drinks like the end of the world, joke’s on them, it was ending. A world without her in it was no world worth living in.

-       “Yo. Slow it down man,” he heard a familiar drawl say. He did not want to see him. He didn’t want to see anyone. Zen drained the final drop out of the bottle and turned back to see white and pink and an inordinate amount of leather. Reaching down into his cart, he picked up another can and cracked open the tab, nodding half-heartedly towards the younger Choi brother before downing another- oh shit, there it was. Blissful ignorance rushing through his veins. “Seriously man what the fuck, get a hold of yourself.”

“You know what Saeran, just fuck off okay,” he said, or slurred, who the hell knew. 

“No I don’t think so,” he said waving off his friends that he had originally entered with. “What’s going on with you? Why are you doing this?” he asked, managing to pull the cart of drinks away from Zen’s hand. 

“Fuck. Off. Choi,” he spat out before polishing off his drink. Saeran clucked his tongue and shook his head in pity, he didn’t need to be a genius to know that the man before him was hurting. He knew because he had felt a very similar pain before. He had tried to drown that pain and could easily recognise it in the man before him. 

“Yeah yeah I heard you. I will. After I get you back home,” he said pulling at Zen’s arm and shoving some money on the counter to pay for the consumed beverages. Zen yanked his arm away from Saeran and almost lost his footing, his natural grace the only thing saving him from falling head first into the rack of glass bottled condiments. 

“I’m not ready to go back yet, don’t touch me, I’m fine-”

“Sure drinking at a convenience store at 3am in the morning on a Tuesday dressed in your pyjama pants and a shirt and slippers is really the epitome of fine-”

“I don’t need this right now-”

“And that’s why I’m helping you-”

“I don’t want your god damned help-”

“And that’s why you’re getting it. Come on, don’t make this harder than-” Zen had pushed him back and sent him flying into the front desk, startling the attendant. Saeran muttered an apology and stood in front of him, feet grounded once more in case he decided to attack him once more. 

“Just leave me alone, okay.” 

“I can’t. MC would kill both of us if I did,” Saeran explained with his palms raised to the ceiling as if he were trying to reason with Zen that he truly had no other choice but to stick around until he finally submitted. 

“MC won’t be around long enough to do anything to either of us,” Zen whispered, tear-laced lashes fanning across his cheeks as he closed his eyes, the alcohol loosening his tongue and heightening his emotional outburst. Saeran swallowed his shock for the moment, his mind quickly digesting the new information Zen had just given him. He didn’t think she was that bad but by seeing the normally suave and cocky actor looking like a homeless man trying to kill himself with alcohol was enough to know that he wasn’t being melodramatic about it. MC was going to die and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Saeran clamped his lips together to seal any shuddering breaths he had wanted to take, or any pathetic noise he was bound to make after hearing one of his closest friends was not long for this world. Breathing deeply from his nose and exhaling strongly through his mouth, Saeran nodded to himself as he made up his mind. 

“All the more reason for you to get home to her.”

-       Zen had wanted to fight him, to pick up another drink and just sit in the corner of the store and pretend just for a little bit longer that this wasn’t happening. But it wasn’t the truth. It was happening. And every second away from MC felt like another needle to his heart. If he didn’t have long left with her, no matter how long it was, shouldn’t he be with her as much as humanly possible?

-       “Saeran… can I still get that ride?” 

Saeran smiled and dangled the car keys from his right index finger. 

“Sure. But if you puke in car I’m telling ‘Young you did it and you can be at his mercy for stinking up his baby.”

-       He stumbled into their apartment and wandered back into the bedroom. MC still asleep.

-       Zen tiptoed into the room and watched over her prone form, the rise and fall of her chest enough to ease the dread in his heart that she had left him while he was away drinking himself into oblivion. Slipping under the covers carefully, he cautiously took her into his embrace and allowed the tip of his nose to trace at her warm, soft skin, still clinging to the scent of their soap from their bath together earlier in the day.

-       Everyday. Every minute. Every second. Always. He would never leave her side.

-       MC was getting worse, even though neither of them was saying it, it was obvious her health was in decline. The pain in her head so strong that she couldn’t make a sound as she buried her head in her arms and shook on the bed, her mouth open to scream with no sound but stifled noises from the top of her throat able to come out. Sometimes even the softest ambient light hurt her and she would encase herself in total darkness, letting herself succumb to self-pity and allowed herself mourn the loss of what could have been.

-       Still Zen tried his best to maintain the most normal of lives for her. They would eat in bed by candlelight. He would push her in a wheelchair around the city and he would put on fashion shows for her as she was too tired or weak to do it herself. They would watch black and white movies because they hurt her eyes less and they would drive- drive for hours sometimes just to see the world pass by and pretend that nothing else mattered but the two of them.

-       “Hey Jagi?” he called out to her as he washed the dishes from lunch. 

“Mmm?” she hummed back, sitting up in bed as she tried to read a book. It was a good day. Her vision wasn’t swimming and she could focus. It was so nice to be able to see Zen again. 

“It’s a really nice day outside, you feeling up for a quick walk?” he chimed, turning off the water and made his way back to their bedroom to lean against the door frame. His hair had grown back much faster than hers she noted, the longest strands able to reach the end of his ears whereas she only managed to have the shortest of pixie cuts come through upon her head. She half joked she looked like an egg and Zen answered that it was no wonder he enjoyed heating her up and eating her. She scoffed at him and slapped him the next morning when he boiled up some eggs and drew their likenesses on the shells. 

MC tested her limbs, first her arms and then her legs, everything seemed fine and she thought she could even walk a little on her own today- she was so sick of being stuck at home and being coddled between the couch and the bed, the bed and the dining table, the dining table to the bathroom. She wanted to feel the grass beneath her feet, if only for a moment. Feel the sun on her face without having a window between her and the rays. Hear children playing instead of trucks go past their house. Yes. Yes she wanted to go for a walk.

-       Zen had helped her into the bath with him; he carefully washed her hair and scrubbed her back, pressing kisses on every new spot his hands had just cleaned. She was so relaxed she almost fell asleep until he asked if she had changed her mind about their outing and she sprang back up like a puppy being asked if they wanted to go out. Perhaps she was just like that. Not the way she’d imagined wearing a collar and lead with Zen but at this point she’d take whatever adventure she could get. Zen questioned the amused expression on her face but she refused to let him know the reasoning behind her secret merriment. She didn’t want to give him any ideas.

-       She asked which park they were going to and he answered the one that was closest to them. MC pouted as he helped her get dressed in a pretty sundress she hadn’t worn for almost a year and a light cardigan to keep any chill away from her. She decided not to sulk too much, he probably chose the location because it was close to home and if she needed to go back if she had any symptom flare ups, she would be grateful to be back home as quickly as possible.

-       The drive there took no longer than a couple of minutes and after finding a carpark quickly Zen had prepared to get her wheelchair out only for her to stop him, telling him that she wanted to try to stretch the cobwebs out of her legs to which he only smiled back and nodded. MC looked out of windscreen, there was some sort of party being held not too far from them. She could see some kids running and some people all gathered around and enjoying themselves and she felt an envious smile slip across her face. When was the last time she’d been well enough to attend a party? Goodness, nearly four months at least. Yoosung had practically cried when she and Zen had entered through the door, the blonde man clearly very drunk, enhancing his already tearful welcome.

-       “Do you think we could steal some cake from that party over there?” she cheekily asked Zen as he opened her door and helped her stand up, her legs giving a tentative wobble as she acclimated herself. Her boyfriend smirked and had that devious glint in his eye that she only knew too well. 

“Why don’t we go over and ask?”

-       MC’s eyes widened as she realised that he absolutely meant to do as she asked. She swatted at him impatiently, telling him he was an idiot and that she didn’t mean it, she was just joking and…

-       Those kids were her niece and nephews running around.

-       The people congregated around were her mother and father, her sister, the RFA and some of Zen’s co-stars from their last project- this was for her?

-       Jaehee came over with the biggest smile she had ever seen and placed a crown of flowers on her head and supplied her with a modest bouquet of wildflowers made up of her favourite blooms from their numerous nature walks, before kissing her on the cheek and walking away.

“What… what is… what is all this?” she asked, her heart constricting at the sight of all her favourite people around them, all smiling and some even crying. She turned to where Zen had been only to find her father come up behind her, his face ruddy with emotion as he offered his arm out to her. The other hand motioning for her to look ahead as she Zen positioning himself at what looked like an altar covered in the same wildflowers, Saeran behind him and Jaehee on the other side.

-       MC could barely breathe, her heart soaring at the sight of the man she loved more than anything, waiting for her at the end of the aisle. His beaming face lighting up the area better than the sun ever could, his eyes fixed only on her and nothing else. He simply mouthed the words will you marry me and she nodded, so hard she thought she would her head would fall off, causing his smile to grow even more as he held out his open hand to her- just waiting for her to come to him.

-       MC released a choked laugh as she clung onto her father’s arm, her other hand wrapped around the bouquet tightly to confirm this wasn’t just another dream, this was happening and it was real.

-       When they finally reached Zen, her father placed a kiss on her temple and whispered words of love in her ear before taking a seat next to her sobbing mother. She took his hand and yes, thank god yes, it was all real.

-       The ceremony was short, it had to be to ensure she would be able to endure it but she didn’t care. She would have stood there for days on end if it meant being able to marry the man beside her. Neither of them could take their eyes off each other, both having to be prompted by the wedding minister to answer “I do”.

-       Their first kiss as man and wife was tinged with the salt of both their tears but nothing tasted sweeter to them. Not even the cake that MC had ‘stolen’ a slice of.

-       The drive home, MC couldn’t stop smiling at the light glinting off their matching plain white gold bands, simple and elegant just like Zen was, the meaning behind the ring far more important than the kind of ring it was.

-       He had promised a whole week of it just being them, no doctors, no visitors, nothing she didn’t want to do. It was just going to be her and him, the occasional bowl of cereal and their bed.

-       Married life was much as the same as life before, nothing apart the signing of paper and rings to prove anything was different between them. However the knowledge that he was officially her husband and she his wife, it added a pep to his step, a deeper renewed vigour to continue to care for her no matter the outcome.

-       She slept longer than normal, but after the excitement of the last couple of days he couldn’t blame her for being tired. She at least wasn’t complaining of pain anymore and her eyes weren’t too bad for the most part.

-       It was into the second week of their elongated honeymoon after he had done his best to alleviate her sore neck as they sat on the couch that MC turned to him, her eyes wide with revelation. 

“What is it Jagi?” he asked, massaging her head and relishing the feel of her soft hair on his palm. She hummed appreciatively and leaned into his touch, earning her a smile from her husband. 

“We never had a first dance, at our wedding- we didn’t get to dance!” she said dreamily, still mesmerized by feel of his hands on her. Zen hadn’t wanted to push his luck during the wedding, he didn’t want to exert her too much and cause a random headache to appear or cause her any embarrassment if her legs tired in front of their guests, he knew how much she hated showing anyone her weakness- even him. Maybe him most of all. Though here, in the confines of their home, with only him and her, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to indulge in their first dance.

-       Zen put on their favourite song on his phone and stood up with a flourish, executing his most perfect bow to his wife, his hand outstretched to her once again as she sat before him on the couch. MC laughed as she demurely bowed her head and slid her hand into his. He carefully helped her off the seat and locked his free arm around her middle, the curve of her waist fitting perfectly into the crook on his elbow. He had started to sing along to the music knowing how much MC enjoyed hearing him sing to her, MC joining in as much as she could in the parts she was sure her voice wouldn’t crack in. Zen didn’t care even if it did, he loved singing with her, off key and off pitch- it never mattered. The woman he loved was singing with him, nothing would ever sound as good as their voices together.

-       Zen skilfully lifted her as he spun around, putting her feet on top of his as he could feel her start to waver in her steps, her hands griping his own so tightly. 

“I’m so glad you’re my husband,” she said as she lay her head against his chest, suddenly too heavy to keep up on her own. Zen chuckled and pressed a kiss against her forehead as he continued to dance for them both. 

“I told you Jagi, it’s going to be me and you forever.”

“Always, right?” she asked quietly, closing her eyes to listen to the sound of his heartbeat, so strong in her ear. 

“Always,” he affirmed, bringing up her hand to kiss the back of it before placing it against chest beside her face. Only for it to fall down loose beside her.

-       Zen stopped for a moment, it wasn’t the first time her limbs had failed her but never so suddenly. 

“Jagi, you getting tired on me?”

-       …

-       …

-       “… Jagi.”

-       …

-       “… Jagiya.”

-       …

-       He couldn’t loosen his grip on her. He knew if he did her whole body would fall within his embrace and… to see her listless… lifeless… that wasn’t his MC. That wasn’t his wife.

-       So Zen cupped the back of her head with his other arm lifting her up against him, her feet dangling above his as he continued to sway them back and forth to the music. And long after it finished.

-       “I’m… I’m so glad to be your husband MC.”

-       When his feet ached so much he could no longer stand and his arms burned to the point of numbness, both of them fell to the ground, his face buried in her chest as he cried the tears of man who would never learn to dance with another again. His feet only knew the beat she set for them. Zen would dance with her again one day but until then, they would remain still. Until he found her again.

-       Always.

[rubyredinstead]

https://youtu.be/1PJe8bwXGpU - Speed CAS

POCAHONTAS

CC used:

♦ Kijiko Eyelashes ♦ Blush Blush Blush ♦ Susana Hair ♦ Matilda Boots ♦ Olente Jeans ♦ Pocahontas Collection ♦ Focus Swimsuit ♦ Eyebrows

Default skin, eyes, etc found here ♥

[plvsticheart]

       H E L L O.  i’m  very  happy  to  be  here.  i’m  frankie,  i’m  23  years  old  and  i  live  in  the  central  time  zone;  going  by  the  female  pronouns.  i  think  this  will  be  the  messiest  intro  because  i’ve  gotta  work  tonight,  meaning  i  won’t  be  on  for  the  opening  !  i  am  kind  of  devastated  but  please  (  if  you’d  like  )  click  on  the  heart  and  make  it  red,  so  i  can  crash  into  your  im’s  awkwardly,  or  vice  versa  because  i  might  forget.  i’m  v  excited  ! ! !

in texas, 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈 𝐋𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐒 is known to most as 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐀. they have been riding with the 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘 for 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒. they’re originally from 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐔, 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐈 and the 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 is known to be very 𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 & 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒 but the other club members will tell you they are 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐓 & 𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓. as the years go by, they’ve gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. they rarely ever drive a car but when they do 𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐘 is usually heard blasting. ( jack daniels’ whiskey in a flask, cruising in the middle of the night under a starry sky, thoughtful thinking with an intense contemplative gaze. )

»  basic  information.

full name:  davi  makoa  lyons-silva

nickname(s):  makoa  (  only  a  few  actually  call  him  davi  )

age:  fifty - five    [    55    years    old    ]

date of birth:  december  22nd,  1964

place of birth:  honolulu,  hawaii

romantic / sexual orientation:  demiromantic  +  demisexual

gender + pronouns:  cisgender  male  +  he/him

hometown:  honolulu,  hawaii

languages:  english  &  spanish

nationality:  american

ethnicity:  english,  hawaiian,  chinese,  portuguese

religion:  monotheism  /  not  religious

drinks, smokes & drugs:  yes  /  yes  /  no .

current location:  stratford,  texas

occupation:  tba

»  appearance.

face claim:  keanu  reeves

tattoo(s):  several  /  tbd

piercings:  none

»  inspiration.

john  wick  ( minus being an assassin... unless? wait, no. bad idea. )  from  the  john  wick  trilogy,  dominic  toretto  from  the  fast  and  the  furious  franchise,  i  had  so  many  others  but  they’re  not  coming  to  me.  he’s  only  a  small  %  of  wick  &  toretto,  though.

»  family  information.

parents’ names:  susana  silva  ( † )  &  asher  lyons  ( † )

sibling names:  adelaide,  lizanne,  akoni

relationship:  taken,  long-term partner.

children:  two  ( might eventually be wcs. )

pets:  n/a

»  shitty  biography.

davi, mostly known as makoa, was born in honolulu. he grew up being a military brat. his father served in the air force while his mother was a housewife. his family moved around a lot during his infancy into his adolescence; they moved back to hawaii. 

when it came to school, he was an okay student— makoa managed to graduate high school at the age of 17 and made the decision to not attend college. it just wasn’t for him, but his parents thought otherwise. he needed to be someone... but to have his parents get off his back, he had a few classes at a community college for two years and dropped out; always having three jobs on the side.

he stayed in hawaii until he was 21, having a strong to wander and explore. he was the only lyons kid that decided to leave. long before leaving, uncle mike taught him how to ride a motorcycle. he fell in love with it and hasn’t turned back since.

makoa bought a one-way ticket to california, bought himself a used 1983 HONDA CB 1100F and never felt freer. he rode his motorcycle until he reached texas, riding into a small town that captivated him quicker than he could imagine. it was unexpected and the year of 1985.

he remembers when he met the reapers like it was yesterday. he heard the rumbling purrs of several motorbikes.   /  lmao,  details  are  scarce  bc  i  can’t  think  rn.

started out as a prospect, officially becoming a member toward the end of the year of 1986. he’s been with the reapers mc for 33 years, or maybe 32 years. long story short, he’s LOYAL AF.

makoa has a minimalist lifestyle, doesn’t have many possessions. motorcycle, clothes ( typical white or black shirt(s), jeans, a leather jacket & boots/shoes ), a helmet, and a few other items, including his favorite cologne ( tbd ) sitting on his dresser.

as i mentioned before, he does have two kids. they’re in their early 20s, in school and whatnot out of state. as a father, he is encouraged them to skip town for college and live a life that they have dreamed of. there is a possibility that he told his kids that he repairs motorbikes rather than being in a mc. makoa and his lady are the only ones that know the truth and that might come and bite him in the ass some day. random bullet, but whatever.

when it comes to the reapers, he is there for them 98% of the time. 2% sleeping as he suffers from insomnia. the dude can’t sleep. dark circles under his eyes. big time. but anyway, what is sleep when it comes to being in a club?

loves his fucking whiskey ! he’d be like: ‘what’s your poison? whiskey? vodka?’ mak likes that strong shit, anything to make him numb from time to time.

low key, he’s a teddy bear with a heart of gold. only close members of the mc actually know about it. the twenty-somethings don’t. very protective of his crew.

uHhhhhh.... he’s v new still but i’m sure he’ll progress in time ???? he means well, but could be in instant kill mode at any second if you fuck something up ??? idk, i need to remind myself he’s not a soldier lol

[starcarolstar]

rules: you can usually tell a lot about a person by the type of music they listen to. put your favorite playlist on shuffle and list the first ten songs then tag ten people (or not)! no skipping!

i was tagged by the greatest @candy-pants

Riverside - Agnes Obel

Fall to Pieces - Avril Lavigne

Happier - Marshmello ft. Bastille

These Boots Are Made For Walkin' - Nancy Sinatra

Bring Me the Night - Sam Tsui ft. Kina Grannis

Mi Ancla - Mindy Gledhill

illicit affairs - Taylor Swift

Broken Coastline - Down Like Silver

A Million Dreams - Ziv Zaifman, Hugh Jackman, Michelle Williams

Mais olhos (que barriga) - Susana Félix