#(also yes what is 'wrong' when it comes 2 language anyway but like. you know what itches your ears and i know what itches mine.
Text
have been reading fic & thinking abt my relationship to fic, which is of course also among other things a mirror of my relationship to my own psyche, and like—i think all the discourse abt its being ~internalized misogyny~ to mostly/entirely read m/m is not ultimately, whatever the truth of it, all that helpful, either to readers or to Women! but of course that doesn't stop me from feeling weird guilt abt the fact that i don't read more f/f than i do, because if there's anything i love to do, it's feel unhelpfully bad abt myself on the slimmest of pretexts…
however! i did end up reading some f/f earlier, specifically transfem f/f, and it got me thinking—basically what i'm usually mostly reading fic for is the romance/sex, right? like, don't get me wrong, i love when a fic gives me a gorgeous double helix of, like, casefic and romance twisted together, that's ideal, but fundamentally most of the time the feeling up is what i sat down at the table to eat. so in a complex aegosexual way it's a fantasy i'm—not projecting onto, exactly, i don't want to be one of the people in it; but, like, lurking in the wings of with eyes big love-crumbs, to steal a phrase from a relevantly-named poet. :) and so it's no wonder that mostly i don't want to read cisfemme4cisfemme stuff, because that's not a dynamic that feels like it has any room for me, or even like i'm particularly welcome in the room. but like. if it's trans women? i'm there, i love that for them and for me. if there's a butch? i might get tripped up by our differing lenses on gender feelings and stub my toe a little but even so i'm probably here for it. (thinking here abt that one butch/femme geraskier ~cisswap which is, like, a gorgeous bruise i keep periodically pressing. <3)
so really it's just like. shocker: i'm not personally moved by fantasies abt romance which feature conventionally feminine cis women whom i don't personally find relatable or sexually desirable! and when i put it like that, it really instantly dissolves the weird useless discourse-induced guiltgunk. like. give me a woman who's, idk, tall and charismatic and strong and clever and talented at something (though honestly it's like that siken revised tweet, a lot of those characteristics are ultimately negotiable!), like women i've historically crushed on irl, and then give me a pairing for her that's like. another woman who's also enough of those things, or a man who's—honestly the kind of m/f i'm open to would be its own whole post bc holy shit am i fussy, it very much does exist but for now let's just stick a pin in that one—or somebody nonbinary, which… idk that i've ever actually seen nb/f in fic? i'm sure it exists! but i'm not sure it exists in any fandoms i've been into. pondering the question did get me really thirsty for a good 'farmgirl (of the luke skywalker variety) is absolutely stunned-and-ringing-like-a-struck-bell captivated by confident flamboyantly genderqueer love interest (example wanted)' dynamic, though…
#(this is entirely unrelated to the actual topic but every time i use a possessive to modify a gerund bc it's a verbal noun it's like#pls hold‚ time 2 decide whether i'd rather do the esoteric thing—'its being'—and have most ppl think i'm getting it wrong#or do the demotic thing—'it being'—and *know* in my own secret heart i'm getting it wrong#and both scenarios feel Bad! so it really is just lose-lose every time it comes up… a sad situation for a gerund lover like yrs truly. 😔)#(also yes what is 'wrong' when it comes 2 language anyway but like. you know what itches your ears and i know what itches mine.#…& obvs what itches mine somehow does NOT include (mis)using 'itch' as a transitive verb for comedically colloquial effect. shrug emoji!!)#anyway none of this is remotely groundbreaking or even unusual but. soothing 2 me to lay it out like this.#fannish things#i guess also#aut fieri uolo aut futuere#and no‚ the world definitely did not need >500 words retreading the same ground many other ppl have already trodden#however. what is a blog for if not to house long-winded unnecessary posts no one but the author (if that) really needed.#in conclusion anything i say abt My Relationship 2 Fic is really always a diptych with that anecdote abt the woman who called up queer bars#just to know there was a space out there where freedom and joy existed‚ and brush the edge of it‚ just a little#like am i personally embodying/visible as much of what i'm deeply emotionally bound up with? no.#is it nonetheless/therefore hugely important to me to see those possibilities stretched out before me like a far green field? sure is!!
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
closeness and proximity part.4
pairing: ghost x f!reader
synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.
warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, mega angst, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. violence, death (not simon or the mc), sad ghosty because yes. This is gonna be a longer one I think, lot's of gore, lots of torture, be wary of that, not for the faint hearted. Guys, DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE GORE, PLEASE. Also, reminder that again, mc is not a good person, not at all, she's devoted to her job and will do ANYTHING to succeed, keep that in mind. Hey you get to see simon close to tears!!!
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:
word count: 3.5k
She awoke with a scowl, the vomit from last night leaving a vile taste on her tongue. She brushed her teeth, gargled mouth wash, and opted to skip out on breakfast.
As if her stomach could handle that after last night.
She hated herself for letting her teammate see her so weak, even going so far as to cry in front of him and confess feelings she couldn't comprehend herself. But now wasn't the time to dwell, she had a mission, and to carry it out she resorted to autopilot, her best friend for years.
Simon opened his eyes to the sound of her getting ready, the cocks of her gun as she checked it twice over to ensure nothing would go wrong when she needed it.
"Mornin' sunshine." He grunted out, his voice deep and raspy with sleep as he sluggishly stood up.
"Ghost." His eyes flickered to her, and the woman he knew was back. The cold, guarded version of her he'd managed to break through the night before had returned. He didn't press, knowing how important it was to get the job done right. He got ready himself as she stood by the cracked open door waiting for him patiently. He noticed how she kept her eyes cemented to the floor, not moving, rarely blinking, because if she looked at him, and he stared back with something that wasn't the look of a lieutenant or a soldier, she'd crack.
And she couldn't let that happen. Not now anyway.
Her ears tuned in to the sound of loud thuds hitting the floor. Her eyes flickered to the smoke entering the room shouts ringing out from another part of the house. She got a small whiff of the smell.
HCN, H2S, and PH3.
Knockdown gas.
They made eye contact, rushing to her bag and pulling out a gas mask, Simon following silently. The gas flooded the room, Y/N pressing her ear to the door, hearing nothing but silence in return. She waited for a moment before cracking open the door and taking a peek out, seeing the hallway flooded with the same smoke but no bodies.
"Couples hours before breakfast, most of em were still asleep." Simon told her quietly.
The one time these bloody fuckers decide to sleep in.
They made their way to the end of the hallway, checking the rooms along the way to see that they were empty. She looked around the corner, finding those very bodies on the floor, blood surrounding them as they trailed to the hallway on the other side of the kitchen. Her hand came up, halting him as she crouched down, pushing a metal ball from the back of her vest and into her palm.
"What's that?" He pressed, never having seen a device like that before.
"It's connected to my coms that picks up audio. Prototype from headquarters." His eyebrows shot up in surprise as she rolled it to the other hallway, and with a tap of her earpiece she could hear quiet voices from the other half of the house.
Clear. Alpha 0-5 move to the other side. Omega team will clear upstairs.
She took out her suppressed pistol instead, listening to the near silent thuds of footsteps going up the stairs.
"They're gonna come this way. I take them out, then we move to the front door."
"Copy that." She watched as two soldiers appeared from the other hallway. With two bullets to the head, one for each, she reloaded and approached the front door silently, taking a moment to grab her eavesdropper (what she calls it anyway) and move back to Simon. Gunshots rang out upstairs, Simon quick to grab her arm before she could clear the front for an exit.
"What about the rest of em?" He hated, no. Loathed, leaving teammates behind when he could do something to help. She stopped, sighing deeply. She had to make a choice, save the two of them, or risking the death of everyone trying to save the rest.
"They're out. By the time we get up there they'll be dead and we'll have to face the firing squad." She argued, disagreeing with the idea to play search and rescue.
"You don't know that." He shot back, narrowing his eyes at her.
"I'm not risking our lives. We have a mission to complete, and we can't do that if we have a bullet in our brains." They were both growing irritated. He thought she was being selfish for not wanting to even try to help her squad. She found him idiotic for not seeing that there wasn't a chance that they'd pull anyone out alive.
"I'm not leaving until we try." And he knew she wasn't leaving him on his own, she cared too much. He didn't mind using her feelings for him for his own gain in the moment. Right now he cared about his team, and when he moved to clear the house, she begrudgingly followed. They checked every body they came across for a pulse, finding none for the first few. It pissed her off in a variety of ways, the fact she was right and he wasn't letting up, and the fact that she didn't hear it sooner.
She blamed her herself. If she hadn't let herself deteriorate, she would've heard them come, she could've saved them. But she didn't, and she'd now have to remind herself of that every day for the rest of her life.
She moved to the front of him, taking initiative and peaking around the hallway. The gas had since cleared by the windows they opened, the traces left not being enough to knock anyone else out.
"Clear!" Ghost's heart sank. She was right. He heard her exhale slowly, her anger peaking as she waited for them all the walk out of the rooms and putting a bullet in their heads. All but two. She shot their hands, then their legs, moving through the hallway and yanking them both off the floor with one arm each.
"Sun-"
"Shut it Ghost. How the hell did you find us." He had never seen her so angry. Her tone was spiteful and full of hatred as she threw one his direction and directing her rage to the bigger guy.
"Fuck you." The man replied, smirking at her tauntingly. It was silent for a beat, and it would only get worse.
"Alright." With a quick movement his face smashed into her knee, letting his body drop as she began searching rooms with an order for Simon to keep an eye on them. She found rope, feeling the heaviness of it as she threw it on her shoulder and came back out.
"You can watch this time if you want. Maybe you can learn a few things." She grabbed the man by his vest and dragged him into the nearest room, Simon taking the other one with him.
"Put him in the chair and tie him up." She tossed some rope to him before tying her guy down to the bed. The chair the other one sat in was facing the bed, and there was this awful feeling that he couldn't shake. Everything told him to step outside, to not watch what she was going to do to them, but his need to know what she was truly capable of was just that much stronger.
"Kinky. I like it." He teased, though the sweat sliding down his temple was evidence enough that he was scared. She didn't reply, grabbing a knife, taking off her gear, and rolling up her sleeves.
"Call for evac." She ordered, waiting for him to finish with it before sitting next to him.
"Let's get started. How did you find us."
"I had a nice cup of tea with your mother before she-" He cried out in pain, squirming as she pressed her knife into his abdomen and cut a line down the middle. The ropes were too tight, too thick for him to rip off as he desperately pulled at them.
"This is how it's gonna work. Wrong answer, one organ he-" She jabbed her finger towards the guy sitting in the chair who had just been shouting at her to stop.
"Has to eat." Everyone's eyes blew out of the sockets at her words. She couldn't be serious, she was bluffing... right?
"You're full of shit." She snickered, burying the blade in his thigh, her eyes boring into his own.
"You just murdered my team. I promise you, the last thing I value this morning is morality. So, tell me what I want to know, or shit's gonna get ugly."
"Sunshine-" Simon's words never left the tip of his tongue. The glare that faced him was enough to cause him to step back and keep his mouth shut. He didn't move, didn't try to stop her.
"Let's continue shall we. How did you know that we were here."
"Go to hell-" She dug her knife back into him, and Ghost watched in fear as she cut out his spleen. No amount of hatred for the man was enough to get him to watch the process, he kept his eyes cemented to the floor, attempting to tune out his wails and cries. He watched her turn to the man in the chair who stared at her in terror as she held the bloody organ in her hands.
His hand grabbed her wrist.
"That's enough. We'll find a different-" Before he could finish she slammed his against the wall, her arm pressing hard against his trachea as the knife pointed inward to his jugular.
"Stay. Out. of my way. That's an order lieutenant." It was a reminder that she had operational command. She took notice of the betrayal, releasing him with a push against the wall. This is what she was, a monster, and part of her was glad he likely realized that by now so he'd stop trying. She didn't deserve his help, and it was better he put his time towards someone more worthy than someone like her. With one last look at him, she turned back to her victim.
"So, would you prefer i cut it into pieces for you? Or do you wanna be a champ and chew it yourself." Simon's stomach lurched, and it took everything in him not to leave the room, or to spill his dinner from the night before onto the floor.
"You should be thanking me, you're getting the breakfast my team didn't." The man from the bed sobbed and watched her cut a piece off, a second away from forcing it down his teammates throat before he broke.
"Alright I'll tell you!" He yelled, listening to her 'tch' and turn back to him, tossing his organ off to the side. She sat next to him on the bed, her eyes piercing into his soul.
"If you lie to me. I'll go for your dick next, and your buddy won't be the one eating it." The sheer horror in his eyes almost made her laugh, flipping the knife in her hands as she looked at him expectingly. Turns out he was a mole, hidden inside the operation and feeding intel back to his home country's base with the promise of a perfect life for himself, where he could live in a luxury that even some of the richest people couldn't buy.
She could understand if it were to save someone he loved, she might've spared him if that were the case. But for wealth, for greed, he was willing to murder, and she couldn't stand for that.
"He told you what you wanted to know!" The other man cried, watching as the life in his friend's eyes faded, the metal sinking into his heart.
"I'm doing you a favor. People like him, who trade lives for material wealth, are never good to keep around." She shrugged, pulling the knife out and leaving him there before moving back to him.
"Anything else you think I need to know? You're gonna die anyway." Her unbothered attitude made Ghost question whether she had feelings at all.
Was the person he met last night real? Was it a lie, a facade for some underlying goal he didn't know?
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" The man sobbed, still struggling against his restraints in a feeble attempt to escape the inevitable. Her hand landed on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze in false comfort.
"People like your buddy. Ever heard of the Тюлень project." His eyes met hers and she snickered at his confusion.
"It means seal in Russian. They'd kidnap elite soldiers, most happening to be navy seals to brainwash them and sell them to ally countries through an underground black market system. Now a number of things occurred during the process." She rose back up, twisting the knife in her hands as she thought back to that time with a smile that held nothing behind it.
"But I think the most memorable part was when they'd castrate the men and sterilize the women. No meds either, awake for the whole thing." Simon's head snapped up to her, both of them in shock and terror.
"ECT was one thing, but god that was a whole other experience. But the wounds healed up nicely so I guess I can't complain." The humor behind her words fell on deaf ears. They couldn't tell if they should've felt sympathy or fear.
"Well whatever. I'll put you out of your misery now." She pulled out her pistol and within a second he was dead, the both watching as his body went slack and his head fell forward.
"Evac should be arriving soon-"
"Is it true?" He interrupted, staring at her.
"No I lied to the poor guy about getting my organs ripped out so he'd pass on peacefully. Of course it's fucking true."
"Watch the fuckin' attitude Y/N."
"What the hell is your problem now. Someone shove a stick up your ass when I wasn't looking." The next thing she knew she was slammed against the wall, suddenly the one in front the knife as it pressed against her neck, just as she did to him before. She took his emotions in, seeing his rage, the hurt from her treachery. She strained to adjust her neck to a more comfortable position, smirking up at him. She felt the sharpness of the blade dig into her skin a bit, the warm crimson dripping down her neck as she flashed her jugular to him.
"Do it Simon. I won't stop you. I can see the dying urge somewhere in there." The hairs on the back of his neck stood tall. She was right, a part of him wanted to. The part that felt threatened by her previous actions, that didn't trust her for a second as she flipped from person to person, cold and warm in fleeting moments. She watched him lower his knife, getting in her face, their noses almost touching through their masks.
"You're a sick, selfish bastard. You don't give a damn about anyone but yourself, you kill for yourself, you hurt everyone you meet. And I don't want something like that on my team."
Something. Not someone. She wasn't even a person to him now.
"You'll be off Task Force 141 by the morning, you hear me?" She swallowed thickly, nodding, only for his arm to push farther into her throat causing her to choke.
"Words soldier." He spat, the anger gleaming in his eyes. He could see the small traces of hurt and guilt in her eyes. But she knew it was only a matter of time, She was unlovable, and she was foolish to think she could have something she wanted.
"I'll be off Task Force 141 in the morning. I'll call HQ myself." She forced out. He searched her gaze for falsehood before reluctantly releasing her, facing away as she gasped for air, hunching over and taking deep breaths. She couldn't deny his strength, and it was evident with her short coughing fit.
They were silent as she put back on her gear, and he knew that was the last time he'd ever see Y/N, the woman he met last night, likely forever. He watched as she picked up her gun, her eyes empty and nonchalant.
"We need to head to the landing zone. You ready?" She kept a light tone that surprised him a bit. With a curt nod she approached the door, only for it to be kicked in as she jumped back in shock. The uniforms matched the ones from the men she killed, so she began taking shots, Simon following. But as more filed in, they quickly lost, both of them ending up on the floor with knees on their backs, their hands being tied up.
They were forced to comply, being pushed and shoved to a helicopter waiting outside for them. They had been gagged and stripped of their gear, sitting on the hard floor with guns pointing at them. Ghost tried to meet her eyes, nudging her foot to look at him for a silent meeting to make a plan, until the barrel pointing at him was suddenly digging into his skull, ordering him to stop in Russian.
Then they began to shout, people standing with their guns up and ready as the radar with the control up front beeped, a red blinker appearing to be approaching them from the back.
Evac followed.
The helicopter door opened with a machine gun pointing at them, only for them to scream as she kicked their knee in, sending them out of the chopper. The duo couldn't speak, but a silent confirmation was given as they got themselves up, fighting with their hands behind their back as the evac helicopter appear just below them. With the door still open she made eye contact with Price, her head gesturing down.
The aircraft lowered enough for them to jump in, and she went back to help out Ghost who she pushed in front of her before two men looped their arms around her. She spit out her gag after leaning over with them and trying to shake them off with vigor, but she wasn't strong enough, not after the several blows her body had already taken.
"Get your fucking hands off her!" Simon yelled out, having gotten the gag out of his mouth and seeing her restrained. She stepped back, causing him stutter for a moment in confusion as she told him to stop.
"I'm sorry." For everything, but she didn't have time for that last piece. Before he could help she jumped, her feet making hard contact with his chest, sending him out of danger and falling into evac who turned the chopper to let him fall in. She fell back onto the floor, her capturers' grips loosening and her head spinning as she crawled to the opening.
"We've got to get her out of there!" Simon yelled, only to be held back by Soap and Price. She felt hands wrap around her ankles before she looked back at her team.
"GO." She screamed as loudly as she could, knowing there was no way for her to get out alive either. John saw her for a moment, truly. He saw the girl he met 6 years ago. Her eyes were begging, pleading with him to save themselves, to save him, and leave her behind. He gave her nod, tearing his look away before wetness could pool in his eyes.
"No! Price! Don't you fucking dare!" His eyes burned involuntarily as he looked back at her, desperate to go back. Everything around him went quiet, slow, and he felt the air from his lung dissipate at her face. She smiled at him, a genuine smile.
It's gonna be okay. It told him.
The last person to look at him that way was his mother. When he was just a boy after he received a beating from his father. The look of care, reassurance, and tenderness she gave him as she cleaned the wounds on his body and face. That she'd save him, get him out of harm's way, and this time around, she did. He breathed heavily, every word he had said to her flooding back to his memory with guilt and regret.
Sick, selfish bastard. Those were his last words to her. The last thing he did was threaten her life and kick her off the team like trash. He almost threw up.
"Get us out of here!" Price shouted to the pilot who nodded, turning their aircraft around and heading back home. Simon struggled and yanked, but his body was weak for the beating he took in that house, and all he could do was watch as they parted for what may have been the last time.
Her breath was ragged and heavy as soldiers pulled her up by her arms, not nearly as gentle as they were the last time. The butt of their gun hit her face, and she felt her body sag, her eyes shutting as she lost consciousness. A part of her didn't mind too much, she got him out, she saved someone, finally. She did something right, something that wasn't for herself, and she let herself enjoy that as she slipped away.
She did it.
Yeaahhh. For reference HCN is hydrogen cyanide, H2S is hydrogen sulfide, and PH3 is phosphite (I'm not smart I googled knockdown gas). There's gonna be another part soon, because yes I'm excited. Anyway yeah. I hope you enjoyed this part!! The next part may be the second to last depending on what I come up with. If you wanna be part of the tag list let me know! Notes of any kind are appreciated and thank you for all of the support!!
@thaprilks @bowtruckleninja @almightywdm
#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod x reader#fanfic#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#cod mw2#cod ghost#call of duty#simon riley#ghost cod#ghost mw2#cod mw price#cod price
448 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’ve got my love to keep me warm
Summary
Just because you're an angel doesn't mean you can't be careful with the cold in winter, luckily Aziraphale has in his life a demon who takes care of him.
Notes
Not much time today, but enough for a little treat...
INEFFABLE ADVENT CALENDER
On Ao3
Rating G - 315 words
"Angel, are you going out dressed like that?"
Aziraphale, his hand on the doorknob, turned to Crowley and asked, "Yes, why do you ask? Is there something wrong with my clothes? I'm dressed as usual."
Crowley sighed and shook his head, "Aziraphale, that's the problem. You're dressed as usual when it's snowing and ten below zero outside. You can't go out like that. Come here."
Aziraphale grumbled, but complied anyway, and as he approached he saw Crowley conjure up a scarf in his hands, tartan, of course. Crowley pulled the scarf over the angel's head and tied it delicately around his neck before tucking it into his coat. Even though Aziraphale couldn't feel the cold outside yet, he appreciated the softness of my wool and the sensation of warmth against his skin.
He said softly, "Thank you, my d..."
Crowley interrupted, "I'm not finished yet," before sliding a beanie matching the scarf onto Aziraphale's head.
Aziraphale chuckled, "You know I'm just going to Maggie's, right?"
Crowley ignored the comment and said, "I'm not done with you yet."
Aziraphale, amused, let Crowley take his hands and make him put on comfortable leather gloves doubled with faux fur.
When he was finished, he said to Aziraphale in all seriousness, "Now you can go."
Aziraphale chuckled before replying, "Who would have thought the demon Crowley could be such a mother hen?"
Crowley put a finger over the angel's mouth and replied, "I'm only like that with you, so keep that secret," then he brought Aziraphale's gloved hand to his mouth and planted a tender kiss on it before pushing him toward the door.
"Go now."
Aziraphale complied, laughing softly, and once out on the street, facing the winter wind, warmed by what Crowley had clothed him in, and also warmed by the one thought of Crowley, the angel felt cared for in a way he'd never felt before.
_________
Still not beta'd
Still not my native language
Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰
Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝
Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2)
Part 1 Story 1-99
Part 2 Story 100-?
Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)
#good omens#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#ineffable boyfriends#aziraphale#crowley#good omens fanfiction#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x aziraphale#winter
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ever Since My Baby Went Away, It's Been the Blackest Day
Pairing: Javier P x Reader
Summary: She misses her ex, he misses her. It has been ten years since they last saw each other but they are still pretty much in love. And horny.
Word count: 3.3 k
Warnings: SMUT (+18), unprotected p in v sex, spanking (lightly), they are soo in love, praise, fingering, age gap, mutual cumming.
A/n: This is my first time of writing something, let alone writing smut so i know it is not that good, i appreciate any criticism or feedback! I used 3rd person pov because i feel more comfortable with it but it is kind of a self insert. Also, English is not my first language so beware of grammar mistakes or mistakes in general. I honestly don't know whether someone will read this or not but i'm sharing it anyways. So if you are reading, thank you and hope you enjoy! :)
(chapter 2)
She was sitting by the beach with a cake in her hands. Her thoughts didn’t leave her alone for a single second. That’s why the chocolate coating of the cake was dripping on sand, the candle was nothing but a melted mess. What was she doing in here… After ten years, ten fucking years. What was she expecting? To see him? to get back together? No. She thought, if she could sit in that bench long enough, she could go back in time. When she felt the sticky texture of melted chocolate coating of the cake, her birthday cake, she snapped out of memories and took a bite from the cake. She was crying. But for what? that she didn’t know. It might be that how much she missed him, maybe she missed his touches, maybe shared memories, maybe the nights that they were too busy to sleep. Memories were rushing into her head one after the other.
She got mad at him, for leaving her behind. But then a pang of guilt hit her, it was a mutual decision. He did nothing wrong. But he could have stopped her, could he? Where was he? Was he still here? Or could he be in Texas, helping his father or maybe he took over the ranch? He could be married by now; he could have kids. A happy family… All of a sudden, she couldn’t eat the cake.
Yes, it was a mutual decision and felt sensible at the time but things started go downhill after their break up. She was miserable. Yes, she achieved her career goals and as far as she knew he did as well, at least it was like that when she last heard from him, eight years ago. He wasn’t her first love or her first kiss and so was she. But he was her first real heartbreak which she didn’t even realize at the time.
She didn’t know that he was there a month ago. She didn’t know he missed her as much as she does. She was all he could think about, her soft lips, her curves. Her smell was still lingering around his nose. The mole on her hipbone. Her complaints about the wind, how it messes up her hair all the time, how it is all tangled. He wanted to reach out to her, he wanted to call her, hear her laughter. He could have given up from everything to hear her call him Javi just for once. He couldn’t though. He didn’t want to break their promise. He could get information if he tried, but he respected her privacy. Or maybe he wanted her to reach out to him first.
Maybe they both were too proud, or coward. But they didn’t hear from each other for ten years. And they missed each other like no other. She hoped to find him on each body that she has been, he also tried the same. They couldn’t. She was so scared that one day, she would find out that he’s dead, his job was dangerous. That was one of the reasons that she didn’t want a future with him. She heard someone was calling her they asked her if she was okay, then she realized she was sitting on the same spot for four hours. She was hoping to find him. She was waiting for him. He didn’t come. He was not even in Colombia. Tears prickled her eyes. For ten years she cried for the first time. A sob escaped from her lips. She stood up; her hands were covered with melted chocolate. She took out a napkin from her purse and cleaned her hands then walked away. As if streets were screaming his name. All the sadness that she tried to look away for ten years resurfaced. She never knew feeling this much pain was possible.
She came back to her apartment, she felt like a fool for leaving her job, her life in another country and return to Colombia. And for what? To find him. She started laughing but it was not because of happiness, on the contrary she felt a gut-wrenching pain in her chest. She was not a teenager; she was 33 now. She left her home, her job to find Javi. This whole thing was a stupid idea. She started laughing frantically, tears followed her laugh. She was a sensible person; she should have known that it was impossible and selfish to find him now. But she was here regardless.
She didn’t know that if he knew she was back, he’d be on his way to her. She didn’t know he was sharing the same pain. She didn’t know he wanted to be with her till the day he dies. Maybe they both deserved to suffer, if they weren’t that proud, or stubborn they would be in each other’s arms, instead of crying all by themselves. Some nights he’d be waking up crying out her name. On those nights he couldn’t go back to sleep, his thoughts wouldn’t let him.
She cried maybe ten minutes maybe an hour. He was also crying. They were a little dramatic. She decided to take a shower, running water could soothe her pain. It didn’t. He was the antidot she knew that.
Days have passed since she came back, there was not a single day she didn’t walk the streets that once they passed together, holding hands sharing kisses. She was making herself miserable, she knew that but she didn’t want to be happy without him. She wanted to reach out to a mutual friend of them but she was so scared that he might have been with someone else, she knew it was selfish to wish that he was as lonely as she was, she wished it anyway.
He was in his couch, all by himself. Watching something on tv but wasn’t paying any attention to it. Thinking about her. He could still hear her voice, crying out his name. chanting it like a prayer. Javi, javi, javi… he could feel her hands around his cock. Her pink lips kissing his. He was not the man that she last saw. Yes, he was still handsome but a part of him was missing. She was missing. Her memory was dawdling. He remembered her hardened nipples, her dripping cunt. The image was pornographic he felt guilty for a second. But god, she was pretty. He realized, even though it was ten years ago when he last saw her, her memories were strong enough to get him hard. He came with the thought of her. With the dream of her lips swallowing him, he felt good.
They were both missing each other but they didn’t know how to communicate, how to get back together. Some say it was pride, some say it was their respect and love for each other. But it was ten years ago that they last fucked and they were still thinking about it.
She sips her coffee on her break. It has been six months since she returned Colombia. Six months that she waited for Javier to appear in her door magically. It didn’t happen obviously. She has four more hours, then she’d done with her shift. She can stroll around the streets that once they walked together the moment she’s free from her work. She says ‘hi’ to a couple of her colleagues then gets back to her work. Time passes rather slow today, she thinks. It’s barely noon but she’s bored to death already. But it passes anyway. Once it hits 5 pm she leaves her office. Instead of wandering around the streets she goes to the pub, the pub that they’ve first met. Maybe she is delusional, maybe it is a sign but the pub is the only place in the city that stays the same for ten years. She knows the staff, they know her, they know Javier it is sort of like a time travel. As if sitting there could get him back…
When she steps in the pub, she knows something is different. She knows something has happened or about to happen. Doesn’t think about it that much and buys herself a glass of wine and sits. Bar maid comes closer to her and asks “Did you hear, Javier is back.” “no, I didn’t know” she responds. She feels something, she can’t describe the feeling. Is she happy, sad, anxious, excited? She doesn’t know yet. She quickly finishes her drink and leaves the pub. Walks directly to her house. She doesn’t know what to do. But she is not as excited as she dreamed of. She doesn’t want to see him, or does she? What is he doing in here? Did he come to see me; did he miss me? she thinks.
She doesn’t even bother to change her clothes. She doesn’t do anything at all. Sits in the sofa like she is hypnotized. She gets mad at herself. She’s not a teenager. She is an adult with responsibilities. She can’t act like this. She chuckles because she came here six months ago to find him. Why she acts like she doesn’t give a fuck about him. Because she does, oh she does. She cries, she laughs, she touches herself thinking about him. She wants him to fuck her dumb at least for old times’ sake. She gets herself together and eats something, does her mundane tasks with the image of him. Then goes to bed, she dreams about him. She dreams that Javier bends her over to his desk and pounds on her like there is no tomorrow. She moans her name. she clenches around him; her wet cunt suffocates his cock in her dream. Then she jerks awake. She feels empty, wet. She didn’t even see him but hearing his return was enough.
When she wakes up in the morning and gets ready for the day, all she can think about is him. She leaves her apartment and again wanders around the streets that saw their kisses and more. Then she sees him, tall, dark haired. Ten years later he is right there with all his glory, Javier Peña. He doesn’t see her though. He talks to someone else. He’s just like ten years ago. She gets wet even the sight of his back. She leaves the street without him seeing her, she is not ready to talk to him. Not yet. Also, she didn’t see his face so maybe that man was someone else, yeah definitely. She goes on with her day, with the ghost of him. Nothing happens, he doesn’t show up in her office, he doesn’t fuck her in the bathroom. But she waits for him. Days pass, she doesn’t see him again. Not until a Friday evening, she’s on her grocery shopping, sees the dark-haired tall figure again, but this time she can’t run away, because he sees her as well. That man was him, she thinks “hi” she mutters, “hello beautiful” he says “long time no see” she gives him a crooked smile, on the verge of tears. “yeah” she says. She feels pathetic. She didn’t think that she’d be so emotional over him
They don’t know what to say. He wants to kiss her, she wants to kiss him. But it has been ten years. “you’re still as pretty as the day I’ve lost you.” he says “you look old though.” She replies and chuckles. He laughs as well. They both know she didn’t mean that. “I heard you moved here” Javier says “what makes you come back?”. “I don’t know, I wanted some nostalgia, I guess. Why are you here anyway?” she asks “I came to find you.” He replies, doesn’t bother to hide the truth. She feels dizzy, she doesn’t expect an answer like that, I came to find you... so direct. Then they both realize they are still at the store and talking maybe for half an hour. She moves to cash register pays for the things that she bought; he follows her. They walk, she says “I’ve missed you.” he replies “me too.” They arrive her home, she invites him in. They know how this will end up; they don’t care. They want this, it is the least they can do. They need each other. Her hands slightly tremble while trying to find her keys because she can’t stop her dirty thoughts. He chuckles, “someone is a little excited, if I’m not mistaken.” She doesn’t bother to answer, because it is obvious. When she finally opens the door and throw the bags, he doesn’t even lose a second. He grabs her by her waist and pulls her towards himself. “I’ve missed you so much” he mumbles before he kisses him deeply, she slides her tongue into his mouth. She moans, he smiles into their kiss. She sucks his tongue while leading him to her bedroom, doesn’t want to lose a single second. She waited long enough. She drags him to her bed, he kisses her neck, he takes his time. His tongue explores her neck all over again. He slowly takes off her shirt, then his shirt. He kisses her collar bone, bites it slightly. “just like how I left” he mutters. “I’ve missed you.” she says “me too.” He says, again. He throws away her bra and cups her tit with his one hand. He moans, the sight of her body gets him hard. Their movements are rushed.
He feels his trousers are tightened around his fat cock. She feels drunk with his touch, she moans. “Javi…” she whines, “I need you”. He kisses her torso all over. He licks her hardened nipples. “javi… fuck…” she moans. His lips curl upwards, he smirks. It is the best song he has ever heard of in years. His fingers trail down on her soaked panties. “damn, baby… you’re dripping” he says. She laughs, but she feels embarrassed, her cheeks burn with excitement. He gets rid of her skirt and panties, slowly toys with her aching cunt. He knows what he’s doing. He still remembers what drives her crazy. He draws circles around her clit, she moans his name again. “javi, I need you.” she whines, “ask properly sweetheart.” He demands. “I need your cock javi, please.” She mumbles. “that’s better, but you have to wait.” He replies then kisses her inner thigs, she feels like falling apart but in a good way. His hot breath tickles her pussy, he places a kiss on her which make her shiver. Then he slides his tongue inside. This is the best she thinks. “You taste like heaven” “so sweet” he coos. Then stops kissing and licking, she whines but suddenly feels his finger inside her hole and while she’s drunk with one he adds another. She moans loudly. “you’re taking them so well baby.” His slightly curled fingers hit the spots that any other men’s cock couldn’t in years. “you are able to do that your fingers but most men can’t do it even with their cocks.” She pants while smiling. He laughs, “That’s only the beginning, baby.” His voice is deep. He starts moving faster and faster, a scream leaves her lips. She moans with the sensation. “You make me feel so good Javi.” Her whole body burns with desire. She feels she’s building up. He saves his fingers from her dripping pussy and he licks his fingers. She moans with the sight, without even losing a second he reaches for her tit again, he licks her tit, plays with her nipple; she bites his shoulder blade which makes him moan loudly. Their noises fill the room. She reaches for his belt “get rid of this.” She points his jeans. He frees his fat cock instantly as if waiting for her command, it’s dripping with precum. It is as thick as she remembers, she wants to taste it, squeeze his balls. “So thirsty.” He remarks realizing her hungry gaze on his cock. She laughs, that’s more than enough for him. He starts kissing her ankles, then her calves, thighs and make his way up to her cunt. He softly kisses her clit, her body jerks awake with the feeling her hands grab his hair and pulls them, they look into each other’s eyes for a second the she buries his head into her pussy again. He rubs his nose to his clit, she loves it, he growls into her. “I’m still so wet.” She pants. “Yeah, I figured that much.” They both laugh, it feels as if they were never apart, like those ten years has never been lived. He kisses all over her pussy licks it clean, he devours her like he was starving till he finds her again which is true in a sense “I fucked my hand with the dream of you, for ten years.” He mumbles, his voice is barely audible. With each kiss and lick she gets wetter. “I-I need you...” she pants. “be patient, you’ll get what you deserve.” He replies, doesn’t plan to make her wait so much. He wonders how can he breathe. With a sudden movement he turns her around and she gets on all fours. She knows, she’s about to get her reward.
With a slap on her ass she moans, she is surprised. He slaps her ass again. “why didn’t you call me?” he asks firmly. “you know phones work both ways.” She answers cheekily. Neither of them replies. Question stays unanswered. He rests his crotch against her ass, she feels euphoric without even getting his cock in she feels how hard it is. He slowly pushes his tip into her wet cunt. “so tight sweetheart. “mmmhmmm Javi” he slowly pushes in, once she gets used to his size she wants more so he pushes more. His movements are slow, he feels like as if he moves faster she would disappear and he’d wake up in his bed all alone. “faster” she yells, then he remembers; he fucks her, she is really there. He picks up his pace. Her pussy suffocates his cock, the wet sounds that they make are enough to get someone worked up. He grips her waist tightly “when was the last time you get fucked like this?” he asks. She doesn’t answer, laughs. They both know the answer. He’s sure he’ll leave his mark on her waist, so he tightens his grip and moves faster and faster “close, ‘m close.” She whimpers. “hang on a little baby.” He pants. “We gonna do it together.” She nods frantically. His balls slap her ass with each thrust. He has an animalistic side in that moment, she knows If he stops supporting her by her waist she’ll fall to bed, her legs tremble. “such a good girl, this pussy is all mine.” he growls. “gonna fill you up so well baby.” “can- can’t hold it any longer” she says. “I know baby, I know… me too. Cum for me sweetheart.” He says she doesn’t even hesitate she lets all go while he also drains his balls inside her.
They collapse to her bed together, lays there in each other’s arms. “god, you have no idea how much I’ve missed this.” She whispers. He smiles, he thinks the same. “If I knew you were back earlier, I’d fuck you sooner.” He replies. They both laugh. They don’t think about those ten years in which they were too stubborn to reach out for each other. It doesn’t matter anymore, what matters is that they’re in each other’s arms. He takes him to her bathroom, both get in the bathtub, kisses her back and he fucks her again. Then of course he cleans them both. That night, they both sleep peacefully, without thinking about the future or the past. It doesn’t matter in that moment.
#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier peña x reader#javier pena x you#pedro pascal#javier pena smut#javier pena#narcos netflix#javier peña smut
138 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just a Little Further 13
Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Ugh, really? Bad is so black and white Melody. We're better than that.
No, look at what you're making me do!
Making? Melody we're not making you do anything. We're facilitating. This is all stuff you wish you could do, but couldn't. Don't lie, we're in here too.
What are you?
We're you. The part of you that you try to keep submerged with gallons of coffee. The part of you that's really good with firearms and chalks it up to practice. The part of you that knows computer systems inside and out but never seemed to figure out people.
We fixed all that.
We're a Builder.
And you are too.
So you're the nanomachines.
No, we are Builders. The nanites help you to remember who you are. Who you are meant to be.
Then what are the nanomachines?
Think of them like... an insurance policy. We knew we probably weren't going to be around forever, we didn't know what would happen to us - by the way? Being stuck on Earth with no Gate and having to start from scratch and coming up with a better way to traverse the stars anyway? Full marks. You haven't told anyone here you can link right? Good.
Anyway, we figured that if one of us, or a descendant or hell, even a pretty close relative found a Gate and like the foolish, curious monkeys we (yes we) are touched it, you'd get the nanites and they'd help you to... remember what we were. What we are.
Melody, you have to realize.
We are in charge here. Us. You. The whole of Reach of the Might of Vzzx. The whole of FarReach. The whole Galaxy. You are in charge. You are Empress.
You're tired. You need to eat, you need to sleep. Tell everyone here whatever, it's fine. Half of them don't believe it and the other half, like Captain Q'ari, know it in their hearts and are already frightened. Play at it all you want but when you're ready to take your mantle as Builder,
I'll be right here.
"Melody?" It's Dr Irenimum. He's at the airlock. "Melody? Do you want to come to the infirmary?" He didn't tell me, he asked.
"Yes, please Doctor Irenimum. I think something is wrong with me."
When I get there, I lay on the table and he begin another scan. The hum of the machines is so soothing, I nearly fall asleep. Before I can nod all the way off he says. "Okay Melody, I'm all finished. Let's take a look at what we can see."
He spends a moment looking at the results. His body language says he has bad news and fears telling me.
"What is it Doctor? Please tell me."
"Uh well Melody, it looks as if the nano machines have... replicated further. Do you feel the same as before?"
I laugh dryly. "In what way Doctor? You saw me outside right? I'm apparently taken the mantle of Builder and am now a living God to everyone onboard this Starbase and-" I look at my hands "-I have the power to back up that claim."
"Er, um, no, I meant more like your weight. You're nearly two kilograms heavier. All of it nano machines."
I'm what?
"Dr Irenimum, isn't that a whole lot of nano machines?"
"Hmm yes, yes. Trillions, if not more. Yes. Working in concert I imagine they make you formidable. Increased processing power, increased reaction time, you apparently can understand all languages and can now manipulate fields to rearrange matter nearly on the atomic level. Whoever these Builders originally were, they were nobody to trifle with."
They were us, Melody. Humans were the Builders. Are the Builders.
Shh.
"Is... Is there anyway to remove them? Or turn them off?"
"Off? No, no I don't think so no." Dr Irenimum thinks for a moment. "Well, maybe a very very strong magnetic field. But that would also have the unfortunate side effect of killing you too. Plus, with a density this high and clearly how much work they're doing with your body, I have a feeling that turning them off will just kill you outright."
He's right. There's no getting rid of us.
"But, er, other than that." I chuckle darkly "I'm okay?"
"Oh? Yes yes, you're better than okay I'd say. Compared to the baseline scans we took when the mission started you're in better health then ever."
See? We have good points too. With us, you need never die.
"Melody? I believe we've removed beyond the realm of the physical to the... metaphysical." Dr Irenimum makes a face. He hates religion. Good, that make two of us. "You know you're not a God and... most of us here know you're not a God, but they out there?" He gestures towards the airlock. "They're pretty sure you're a God. Given you you reacted today when the security guards tried to break up a... congregation of your worshippers? I'd say that their side it looking better and better."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Doc, you don't think I'm a God, do you?"
For the first time since I came in, he looked me in the eye. "Melody. There is an old, old K'laxi religion. It's about the Gates actually. See, we had no proof, but one of our religions stated that there would be "doors in the sky" to other worlds. Time passed, and we moved on and left the religion behind - well, most of us anyway - but when we went into space, and found the Gate? Well, you could say there was quite the revival of the religion. More than a few wars were fought over it. Once we learned how to traverse the gates and there were no Gate Builders around anymore, we figured maybe it was just a legend, or maybe it was something that was true aeons ago, but was left in the dust of history."
Dr Irenimum looks away. "Then we met humans."
"They sure met the description we had in the holy books of the Builders. You had no Gates though! It couldn't be you. You traversed space in a whole different way and when we asked you about the Gates you had no idea what we were talking about. It was a coincidence."
He looks me in my eyes again. "But now... Now, we traverse the Gates in a ship built by humans and modified by K'laxi. A human touches the Gate and it reacts in a way never seen before. A human touches the directory stone and you get wild... powers, there is no other way to describe it. A human with these powers brings us across the Galaxy and we find a Starbase full of species we've never met and when they first see you Melody. When they first talk to you Melody, they act like God came to visit."
"When a group of their churchgoers shows up and security comes to break up the group with violence you cow them all with words and light and force and they are compelled to do your bidding."
"Okay then Doctor. What does your religion say about the Builders?"
Once again, he meets my eyes. "Nothing good Melody. It feared your return. Their Empress was known as Tep’ra’fel - the undeniable. It said she literally could not be disobeyed."
"Melody, I fear that our old religion is right. Captain Q'ari doesn't know what to do. I think her family was still religious even in these more... modern days. She fears you."
"But what do I do Doctor? I don't want to be a God." I nearly wail.
You are you who are Melody. There is no denying yourself.
"I don't know Melody. You are who you are. Have solace in the fact that you are a good person, and have shown all of us here on FarReach that fact. You are a kind, generous, good person. A little bit of Godhood won't change that." He pats my back. "It's late. Go sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning."
I get up and thank him and go to my quarters. The ship is dark and quiet, by ship-time it's late. I am exhausted. I barely have the energy to take off my uniform - ugh vestments now I guess - and crawl into bed.
Another night, more wild dreams.
****
This time I'm in a throne at a Starbase. Maybe the one we visited? Maybe not.
I'm there, and everyone fears and loves me. Everyone.
I tell them so, and they agree. I tell them to build the Starbase and it is done. I tell them to build a gate and they build it. This one isn't active yet, the ring is folded tight to the asteroid. It's towed by a ship - a Starjumper? - no, it can't be - towards a gate and it disappears off to the far reaches of our - my - empire to expand. Any sapients we meet along the way become my subjects. I am Builder. I am Empress. I am.
A courier ship traverses my Gate. They approach my Starbase with news of my empire. A small race of newly found sapients - they call themselves K'laxi - have rebelled. They had the temerity to kill their overseer and close their Gate. How did they learn to do that? No matter. I will go and see to the Gates reactivation personally.
The messenger fears giving me the bad news. This is right, but I am not without pity. I do not destroy them for the crime of bringing me bad news. If people fear to bring me bad news they will hide it from me until the empire totters over, all the while I think everything is fine.
No. The messenger is rewarded. A new ship, bigger, more comfortable. A promotion. Command of Courier Corps Ten. Go forth and give me the news - good and bad - of my empire.
****
You know, when that happened originally you had the messenger killed and the ship destroyed. You are learning.
But, killing the messenger only tells everyone else to keep bad news from me - her. Then she wouldn't know when things fell apart.
Which is what happened yes. A mere century after that incident, the K'laxi closed their gate permanently. The only time you were disobeyed on such a level before that was when the splinter group of Builders on one of your furthest colony worlds conspired to close and lock their Gate and prevent anyone from entering it. It was theorized they destroyed their own Gate, though until now we had no idea.
On Earth?
That's what you call it yes.
How long ago was this?
I don't know, it's not like you keep the same calendar. Tens of thousands of years probably. More even. Given the statue and how well we're integrating, not long enough for genetic drift to change you that much though. No more than fifty thousand is my guess. The K'alxi though? That was much more recent. It's one of my last memories.
So what, I'm a... reincarnation of the Empress?
A... memory maybe. A double exposure. The nanites contained enough of her personality that we can give you her abilities and you are a Builder - it wouldn't work if you weren't - but now?
Now you can do it right.
With that, I wake up and get dressed. Good work previous me to make sure my uniforms are clean and pressed. I put one on that doesn't look like Holy Vestments or something. I check the time - 6:30am ships time. and realize it's still an hour before breakfast. I go to the kitchenette and make some coffee.
Really Melody? After all that, you're still going to sully yourself with.. Caffeine?
Oh goody, you're still here.
I'm no dream Melody. I am us.
Well I am the Empress, and I want coffee.
Oh, you admit you're the Empress? Tsh. Fine. Get your coffee.
While I'm making coffee Mei'la comes in. "Oh good morning Mei! I say brightly."
"G-good morning Melody." She says, awkwardly.
"Mei, what's wrong? I'm still Melody, I'm still me"
She knows you're not.
"Sorry Melody, it's tough. My... Mother's mother on that side of the familial group was very religious growing up."
"Oh. I spoke to Dr Irenimum yesterday about K'laxi religion."
"Yeah, so I'm a little freaked out to meet God."
"Mei, I don't know how many people I have to say this too, but I am not God!"
She knows you are.
"Melody, I have to say, I'm not so sure." Mei'la tries to stand straighter, to look me in the eye, to have me deny that she's wrong. Part of me is so proud of her. What a good subject.
"Mei'la, would it be easier if I was God, or if I wasn't God."
"Well, if you weren't God, I'd be less scared of being your friend. But if you are God, key, how many K'laxi are friends with God?" She laughed weakly.
I laughed too. It was funny. Plus, I knew that was the reaction she wanted to hear. How did I know that?
You know how.
Quiet, you.
"Mei'la. Is that why the Captain is acting so out of sorts?"
She nods. "Captain Q'ari was even more religious than my mom's mom. Her whole family has been churchgoers for centuries."
Shit. "I should go talk to her."
Mei'la flicks an ear. "I don't know Melody. Maybe."
Come. Let's see how malleable our Captain Supplicant is.
I said Q̷̢̭͚͙̤̠͙͍̝̑̒̆̐́͌͛͐̒͋̍̈́̚u̶̧͖͚̟̬̱͒̀͛̐̀i̷̭͚͙̭̅͌͆͋e̷̮͇͇̳͖̔̿̊ţ̴̨̱͇͍̥̤̣̳̓̿͂͐́̎̓̔́̈́̐͆̑̕ͅ, you.
Don't go and threaten us with a good time now.
Part 14
#humans are deathworlders#humans are space orcs#humans go on adventure#humans are space oddities#sci fi writing#writing#humans and ai#humans and aliens#the k'laxiverse#jpitha#just a little further
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Burned at the stake - Part 1
Well. I have done it. 14K ish words. I'll put this out in about 5 bits me thinks. Anyways, enjoy!
Content: Vampire whumpee, out of body experience (?), mention of vampire trafficking, burning flesh
Let me know if you want to be on a tag list
.....................................
Fanatic was a word often tied to cults, to religious nuts, to conspiracy theorists, which really is quite narrow minded. The word fanatic more often applies to a wider range of people, more specifically known as anthropology students. After all, who else would spend outrageous amounts of money and time to go to some remote jungle that could most certainly kill them in a thousand different ways for the remote chance that they might find some ancient temple that some random drunk dude swore till he was blue was there, and also very haunted.
So, yes, Joanna was having just about as much fun as a human being could experience as she hacked her way through the brush ahead of her slightly less enthusiastic colleague, Kyle. Because he had more of his wits about her (more but not much more as he was a student of ancient languages and only here in case they found the temple and something needed to be translated) he was slowed by making sure they marked the path back clearly.
“Joanna, when was the last time you looked at the map?”
“Kyle, you know as well as I that time does not exist out here,” she replied, pausing to get a sip of water before pushing forward again. “But we do not need a map! All we need is our hearts and our minds!”
Kyle laughed as she flashed him a grin while reaching to pull out the map and check the compass. “Yeah, we’re on track.”
“Good,” Kyle replied. “Do you know how much farther we need to go?”
“Well, probably another 2 or 3 miles but…..”
Kyle paused, looking at Joanna who’s movements became more purposeful and smooth, like she was completing a ritual. Kyle felt it as well. There was a tension in the air. Something that said they would discover something interesting soon, like the forest was holding its breath while it waited for their reaction.
And now that he thought about it, the birds had all gone silent.
Joanna had noticed as well, and she slowed down so he could catch up with her. His shoulder brushed hers as she paused, leaning to see past the foliage ahead. It almost seemed as though there was a man-made clearing, and the tension in the air went from intriguing to nerve wracking. Kyle glanced past Joanna who tightened her grip on her machete and pushed forward. The foliage around the clearing was dense, and the effort to get through it left Joanna and Kyle exhausted as they took turns cutting the vines. Kyle was so exhausted, in fact, that when he broke through the foliage with one last swing his tired arms and legs didn’t expect the lack of resistance and he fell through into the clearing.
A cloud of fine particles filled the air around him, coating his mouth as Kyle took a surprised breath. Kyle coughed hard, stirring up the ash around him as he forced himself up and out of the cloud he had stirred into the air, trying to find fresh air as Joanna came out behind him.
Kyle continued coughing out a lung or two as she stood there silently, and as his voice came back to him, he choked out, “I’m fine, by the way.” He coughed, listening for Joanna’s apology or joke or-
He blinked hard, eyes watering as he turned to look at her. “Joanna? I-”
Joanna was pale and staring at something behind him. He turned quickly, ash swirling up around his feet. The ash was everywhere in the clearing. The clearing was huge, as well, as though it had been burned and razed. Or maybe the thick layers of ash were killing off life and keeping the plants from coming back in the clearing.
The immense expanse of ash, so strange and wrong compared to the jungle that refused to touch the clearing, was nothing compared to what was in the middle.
A pole jutted from the ground, silver chains nearly hidden in the ashes underneath the charred and blackened mass skewered on the pole. There was the faint shape of ribs in the mass, the whole thing smoking faintly in the sun.
“Uhhhhhhhh, what’s that?” Kyle asked softly, but his voice seemed to ring in his ears without the dense foliage to muffle it.
“I dunno, but I’m gonna touch it,” Joanna said, kicking her way through the ashes with a scared, though determined step.
“Joanna!? What do you mean you’re gonna touch it!?” he cried, reaching forward to stop her.
She dodged past him, turning grey as the ash melted into the sweat of her body. She reached the charred mass on the pole and reached out a hand, brushing over it. She screamed and jumped back as more ash and char crumbled through her fingers. Kyle reached her, nearly knee deep in ashes.
More of the black char crumbled away, and something pale peaked through what remained of the ribs. Something that pulsed and flinched.
Holding his breath, Kyle leaned forward as Joanna vigorously wiped her hand off on her pants.
“Er….. I think this was.. Is it a vampire?”
“What?”
“There’s a heart under here. Still beating,” Kyle replied, not removing his eyes from the heart which seemed to be fused to the pole which skewered up, just barely missing it. He was trying not to be sick, but his stomach churned right along with the pulsing of the vampire heart.
Joanna shoved him out of the way so she could look, and Kyle was glad for it as he hadn’t been sure he would be able to look away. He grabbed his water out and sipped on it, shivering slightly as he dealt with what he’d just seen.
“What do we…. What do we do with it?” Joanna asked, reaching in and touching the heart very gently, almost stroking it like one would do to the chest of a friendly bird. She watched as the heart fluttered and she touched it again gently. This time the heart pulsed in response and she found herself whispering, “It’s alright. We’re not leaving you here.”
“We’re not taking that thing, are we?” Kyle asked. “What if it was left here because it was, I dunno, a monster or something?”
“So we should just leave it here?”
“We… well, we shouldn’t leave it to suffer, obviously, but we could, er…. I’m sure we could find a stick…”
“We’re not killing it. That’s murder,” Joanna replied, still stroking the pale heart.
“We should call the government, then. This isn’t our problem!”
Joanna gave him a withering look, cupping the heart and shielding it from the sun as more of the chest cavity collapsed. “And they’ll kill it for sure. You know that this country doesn’t ‘waste’ resources on vampire recoveries.”
“Alright, alright, fine,” Kyle said. He took another sip from his water and sighed. “Alright. Are we going to smuggle it back with us?”
“We have to.”
Kyle sighed. “Alright. We’d better take it back to the hotel and figure out how we’re going to get it back home. You’re carrying it.”
“Chicken,” Joanna said with a sharp grin. “Could you pass me your handkerchief?”
Kyle nodded and handed her a couple clean ones from his bag, most of them out of ziplocks and already damp to help with staying cool while they hiked, as he usually used them for.
Joanna gently wrapped them around the heart and cooed at it. “I’m sorry, love, this is gonna hurt.”
She gently pried the heart from the pole, which revealed itself to be made of silver and had burned the heart to the metal. The heart thumped irregularly as she pulled it away from the pole, leaving charred flesh behind. It nearly squirmed right out of her hands and she shushed it, pulling it more gently until she had the swathed heart shivering in her hands.
She stood up and turned, still cooing at the heart and stroking it gently, making sure the sun wouldn’t get to it by wrapping it in another piece of cloth.
“Let’s get out of here,” Kyle said with a heavy sigh. They turned back and made their way out of the jungle slowly and surely. With the heart tucked into her bag, they got a taxi in the rundown town to get back to their hotel room.
As soon as they had the door locked behind them and were all settled, she pulled the heart out. The wrappings were dried out now, though the heart looked a bit better for being damp. She went and made the handkerchiefs wet again, wrapping them around the heart, which still flinched when she touched it, but seemed to be beating at a steadier rate.
“We need a plan,” Joanna said.
Kyle sighed, sinking into the bed. “We can’t keep it here. There are only so many times we can extend the trip, and if it’s discovered it’ll be confiscated and destroyed…. Or worse.”
Joanna nodded faintly. The two of them were well acquainted with the fact that there were dark markets trading in pieces of vampire hearts, claiming them to be ancient creatures with fantastic knowledge of the past. Most of the time, the poor things weren’t allowed to grow and were just kept in a silver lined box and treated like an interesting old trinket. Or they were grown out, forced to tell all they knew, and then they had their hearts removed again so they could be easily stored or sold on. You didn’t get into anthropology without first dividing which side of that moral quandary you stood. Many of their peers were actually lobbying for even more rights for vampires so this sort of thing would be cracked down on a bit harder, though she knew that the laws they volleyed for were specifically ones that would put vampire hearts in the hands of people like them. Of course it would be in the name of helping ancient vampires transition with people who understand a bit of the world they used to live in before they were stripped of their bodies, but the motivations were the dreams of getting useful information first, and straight from the source.
Joanna would be lying if she didn’t have the same thoughts when they were riding back from the jungle.
“I guess that just leaves the matter of how we’re going to get it back,” Joanna said. “I used to know some guys we could have shipped it with, but they got arrested a couple of months ago….”
“It probably wouldn’t be safe to ship it. It might get eaten by rats on the way, or someone might hear it thumping,” Kyle replied, standing up to have a look at the heart. “I think you might have to hide it under your shirt or something.”
“Under my shirt?” She asked, annoyed. “Why my shirt?”
“Because you can use your bra to keep it from falling out,” Kyle said, sounding ashamed with having to even voice the idea out loud.
“Bold of you to assume I wear one,” Joanna said to get back at him. He spluttered in a very amusing fashion and she laughed, the heart in her hands picking up the pace for a moment.
“Alright,” she said when Kyle looked close to fainting with embarrassment. “I guess that’s fair. But someone at the gate will absolutely notice that my shirt is moving every time it does.”
Kyle sighed. “We have a few more days. Maybe we can find some way of making it be still for long enough to get through the gate. There has to be something.”
Joanna gave him a long-suffering look. “Fine. Hold this,” she said, passing the heart to him before pulling out her phone and typing ‘How to get a vampire heart to stop moving.’
………………………..
There had been pain for a very long time. How long? How does one count heartbeats when one does not have fingers to aid them? Does time even matter in the face of all of that pain? Reasoning certainly doesn’t. One learns to stop questioning the why of the pain, and try to adapt ways of ignoring it. Or using it in intervals to stay sane.
What was worse than the pain was when there was no more body to feel. Just a heartbeat to keep the time. The nothingness lasted…. Less than the pain? It was hard to tell. It was almost worse. There was no way to grow anymore, to try and escape from this place, so finding ways to stay sane became almost nonexistent. There was an occasional burning that would bring sanity back, but never for long, like the brush of a finger over a hot stone to remember what heat was like before it was doused out in a river.
Being a heart, you couldn’t properly muse. You couldn’t have proper thoughts. Just memories that played in an order of thinking. A mockery of it, like drawings of a sunrise to try and describe a sunset.
Still, it was all one had left when put in such a position. Playing memories over and over in a semblance of thoughts, hoping that the use of them in this way would not damage or destroy them.
The heart had given up on stringing memories into thoughts. It was tiresome and sad. Instead playing out favorites. The heart had grown quite good at this over time and had begun to use its infinite time to uncover new ones. Like digging. Brushing aside the sand of time like the sands in the -
“Maman! Can I dig in the garden?”
“Yes, Esial. Listen for me when I call for you!”
“Yes, Maman!”
Sand on the edge of the herb garden. Maman was a healer. Esial, the young boy with bright eyes and sticky fingers got to digging, using a nice stick he found. Usually, he would dig out lines and pull leaves off of plants and trees, shoving them in the dirt so he could have his own garden and he’d show his Maman, and she would always aww and coo at him and scoop him up. They would show father when he got home.
But just as he started this wonderful pastime, his stick scraped past a rock. He stopped and used his fingers to scoop away the dirt. The stone was small and rather round. The black color took hold of his imagination. It could be an amulet! It had to be! Why else would this small stone be so black and shiny? He giggled as he ran around, pretending to vanquish evil with every wave of the stone until his father came home and saw him.
His father had been very keen to listen to Esial describe the magic powers the stone had.
“I don’t know about putting flight and fire blasts into the same stone, but we can see what we can do.”
The workshop smelled like mint and sage and his father started painstakingly carving runes into the stone, whispering about what they meant and how they would protect his little Esial.
The Heart wished it could remember all the details.
“There,” his father said, putting a leather cord through the hole he’d drilled out with some sort of magic. “Try this on.”
Esial did, and was delighted. He loved his amulet more than anything! Except perhaps the blanket Nanan had made for him when he was born. He decided he would always keep it on him so he would-
“THERE! GET IT!!!”
Esial ran through the trees, heart thumping stolen blood through his body. He’d been so hungry. He’d needed something and it was better that it was an animal than a person, right?
“THIS WAY!”
Esial came sliding to a stop and ran in another direction, not wanting to be cut off by the hunters. He reached up to his chest to grab his amulet, but his pale fingers closed on empty air. His amulet? His AMULET! Where did he-
The Heart stopped that memory in its tracks. The Heart had control over the memories, and it didn’t want to watch that one again. Not again.
Instead, the heart reached for a memory of teenage years, pondering over them all to-
East blood.
There was a hand, pounding with east blood cradling the Heart. Why were there hands? Pain, burning, screams, flinching, fear-
The fingers smoothed over the Heart. Memories of Maman smoothing down hair lovingly surfaced and the Heart slowed, now more curious than scared. Something cool, moist, damp, was wrapped around it. The Heart relished in the feeling before the hands tugged. Sharp pain tore alongside the Heart as it was ripped from something and the fear came back as more cool, moist, damp was wrapped around it.
Time passed and the Heart got the sense of… movement. They were going somewhere. The Heart couldn’t sense the hands anymore, though. But it was moving
Eventually, the damp, cool, moist was pulled away and the East Hands stroked the heart directly. The Heart did not think, but it did hope.
The East hands placed the Heart in new ones. Rougher, bigger, Northwest blood. The Northwest hands held the Heart, though did not stroke it. The Heart grew nervous as it sensed the anxiety in the blood flow beneath it. Soon enough, though, the East hands were back and were stroking it again. The Heart relaxed just enough that, when the cold, dry, freezing touched its flesh, it was merely confused rather than afraid. That changed very soon as the East hands left and disappeared entirely. The fear became vivid and sharp as the cold enveloped The quickly beating Heart. But as the heart got cold, it grew tired. And even more so. The fear dropped to mild anxiety, then to malcontent tiredness. Then…. Nothing.
Part 2
@whumpsday
#vampire whumpee#rescue#carewhumper#having a hard time with tags right now#ancient vampire#What a good time this has been
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere Stobotnik x Platonic Reader Warnings and Talks!
VERY LONG
CW FOR ENTIRE FIC: Kidnapping, Violence, Implied murder, Explicit murder, Swearing, Death, Trauma, and explicit / implicit threatening. I WILL PUT WARNINGS AT EACH CHAPTER AS WELL.
This is mostly going to be me talking about the book's plot and characters in detail, but if you don't want to know what I have in mind and want to go ahead and read, the first chapter should be up when I publish this just know that this(this being the overview chapter) is like ~4.6 pages.
My hope is that my writing is realistic, the world is not a "perfect world" where the only thing wrong is the Yandere itself. I will try to make it be realistic in how people talk, stutter, need clarification after hearing sentences, have tics (verbal + nonverbal) and have things wrong with them. A preposterous idea, I know, but I plan on the MC having trauma about Robotnik and [the plot of the book], I plan on people having a reaction out of things. In the second movie, some of what they wanted to do with the human characters honestly sucked, there isn't much of the human reactions to stuff that wasn't played as a joke [Wade being held hostage by a man who is honestly, much smarter than anyone else - it was just played as a joke, I get it, Sonic 2 was a comedy, but I plan on something a little different.]
Anyway, I have way to many ideas for this, so it's less likely to be coherent the more this goes on unless I can make up my mind. I decided to make this because it's been on my mind and I haven't seen any for this man soo... I honestly really love Platonic and Romantic Yanderes but Platonic Robotnik has been on my mind lately.
Y/n ideas: What I have in mind for Y/N is that they are a little ambiguous depending on certain things ( Such as preference [Theatre kid, Band kid, Dog preferring, Cat preferring, etc.] or looks [Hair, Skin tone, Body type, etc.]) But have defined traits as personality goes; a Chronically online or a bookworm MC, Y/n is in fact going to be a chronically online MC 1, for the fun of it, and 2, because I can't think of a different personality that may go along with the personality that of Robotnik and Stone. MC will also have 2 mental illnesses (both of which I have been diagnosed with) because I know that it will come out in my writing because of my basis of MC, which I reference to myself. I have been diagnosed with OCD, and anxiety.
(OCD has different types, mine is more pattern than cause related, ex: Hyper focus on a pattern [numbers, pages, days, etc.] or if I don't sit in the same spot everyday then I get bad luck. A good example of passive OCD would be Yes Man featuring Jim Carrey ( *Spoiler to Yes Man* as he notices when he says no, he either gets hurt [him falling down the stairs and the dog after saying no to the old lady] or something bad happens, causing him to notice such patterns and develop a fear of saying no). Sorry I just get mad when people say OCD is just washing your hands a lot or everything has to be neat, because they don't know or bother to learn. OCD is more than that, it is about having control in your life.
ANYWAY, as you may have noticed with the previous paragraphs, I tend to break them up according to how long they are or the information given, not 3-5 sentences, I also have a habit of putting a lot of commas in, but to me, they need to be where if you were speaking, you would take a pause because of how the English language is spoken.
To bring me back to my point of Y/n's character, I said that Y/N would be a Chronically online MC, what I mean by that is they are not so chronically online that they start arguments for the sake of it, more so that they don't know how to talk or interact outside of it, so they bring the internet into their personality by: recreating memes that they found funny in order to seem appealing to the person they are trying to befriend, bringing up things that they found on the internet, specifically talking about fandoms and outside of that, have a hard time trying to talk to people and purposefully bring the subject back to something that they can talk about, and end up being more rude than they mean to because it's the internet, of course there are mean people, so you end up being more rude than you expect in real life because you expect the same hostility that people show online to show in the real world.
On the point of me trying to be ambiguous, I will try to be as ambiguous as I can when writing so that you can leave things to your interpretation of your version of Y/N, such as: "It's a glowstick from one of my performances … " This leaves it up for interpretation as to what performance it was, such as a theatre play, an art show, band show, choir, sports, etc. As to what Y/n looks like, I don't think I particularly care, or will provide such instances minus hair being mentioned occasionally. However, I must mention that I will be having the second language that Y/N knows / is learning is German, so that I don't have to rely on Google translate, I may mess up occasionally though, I am still learning.
I forgot to write the backstory so here's a general overview: Mom + Dad = dead. -So mom dies from a heart attack when you were three, Dad dies in service of the military so then Tom took you in and you have been living there for some number of years, Uh, Age is around 14-15. Smart enough to shut the fuck up when needed but not so smart that they are on Genius levels or anything. Tom, Maddie and Y/n's relationship is loosely based off of me and my parents, just going to force more awkwardness in because Y/n is a technical adoption, however Y/n is comfortable enough to open up, Y/n won't open up about their imposter syndrome or call them "Mom" or "Dad" because Y/n still misses their biological family.
I think that's it on Y/N for now.
Robotnik ideas: Of course Robotnik will be OOC because of the nature of Yandere, but I will try to keep to both my idea of this version of Robotnik and the Fandom's version. In my head there is a clear difference between the two movies and their versions, The first movie version has a poised, regal villain, that slowly delves deeper into rage as the one opponent, one enemy of his that will not die (and also the fact that Sonic can be the one thing that can power the machines without needing batteries or man made electricity, thus creating the world that Robotnik wishes to have, a world with just him and his machines, but Sonic won't let that dream be fulfilled no matter how "righteous" the dream is.) - based off of previous aggression issues stated before from Robotnik threating Tom, as well as the bully and the one dude in the bar. The second movie, however, is much different in the way that he feels like a villain that has now had everything taken away from him and he is now on his last nerve and has snapped at some point in time.
Stone Ideas: Of course, it'll be easy to stay with my version of Stone because a lot of fans agree that Stone is in love with Robotnik, this make him an easy character to stick with, especially with so few lines compared to others related to the plot.
Plot/ notes to keep me on track and not go off the rails with a sonic fanfiction
This will go through both Movie 1 and Movie 2.
We have some set up in the first chapter, show people what it'll look like with Y/N in the movie, also show what it was like with Y/N there, show some of Y/n personality and show off the personality with the rest of the cast. I guess Sonic shows up too-?.
So Y/n is more of a scaredy cat; instead of Y/n constantly being 'sassy' to Robotnik or Stone, Y/n understands the amount of danger that they are in -especially after Tom is labeled as a domestic terrorist.- and would rather come out of this relatively trauma free which leads to Y/n being more of a doormat then intended.
This means that Y/n will be quiet and less outspoken after a certain point because Y/n knows when to shut up and be a people pleaser - this does not mean that Y/n is submissive, just smart enough to shut up.
After the interaction with Tom, Y/n gets scared of Robotnik a little, it is kinda scary to see someone who just threatened to torture your parental guardian, and seeing them have the power to call someone a domestic terrorist, therefore the ability to do virtually whatever to the little town or the people in the name of protecting the country, you of course, wish to not piss said person off, which kickstarts a little portion of why Robotnik gets obsessed with Y/n and Stone.
Something that I noticed about the second movie is that no one seems to care that Stone, someone who is working for the government, actively tried to kill the blue blur, gets to stay at town and everyone's fine with this? Sonic doesn't have any aggression or grudges against someone who wanted to take him apart? No, not in my fanfiction.
My apologies if you made it this far, I realize that I went Essay mode on this stupid sonic fanfiction. Thank you for reading (or scrolling) this far down. :)
#platonic yandere#yandere x reader#platonic x reader#tw yandere#x reader#platonic#yandere#headcanon#yandere sonic the hedgehog#yandere stone and robotnik#yandere stobotnik#yandere stone#yandere overview#helpfandom#helpfandom's writing
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
I saw that you are accepting requests and I wanted to ask if you can do a headcannon of the main four with a s/o who is about 2 years older than them who takes care of them and helps with some things like lessons and other things and they start to like the s/o more than a platonic feeling.I don't know if it was a bit confusing what I meant but I hope you understand! and also sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language
Team Stan with an older s/o that takes care of them❤️🩹💖💖❣️
What? I just like using new dividers 😏😏
Rant at the end of this post by the way.
Warnings: I don't know what to put as a warning.
Gender: Neutral
❤️🧡 The Main Four 💚💙
That gif that I put right there is their reaction to seeing you for the first time.
With this, you'd probably be a 5th grader but close to being a 6th grader though.
Knowing how the 6th graders often bother the boys, they were still unsure of you.
But it's kinda odd on how they immediately changed their expression when you always volunteered to babysit them whenever they were unsupervised.
You protect them from the 6th graders, you help them do their school work/homework, and you remind them to take care of themselves.
They literally will start bragging to everybody in the school and to their classmates on how they got somebody as cool as you and nobody else could ever pull someone like you.
It's been a few weeks since you became friends with the boys and had always taken care of them, they love your company so much!
You are friends with them and all...but....maybe they want to be even more then friends with you....
They know that you are a 5th grader and close to being a 6th, but they might not see anything wrong with that. (They literally simped for a teacher in that one episode ;-;)
You started to notice that they have been acting more strangely with you every time you were around them.
But you just shrugged it off without thinking too deeply about it.
You still viewed them in a platonic way, but they don't like that. They WANT to be more than friends with you can't you see that?! Or are they not showing enough signs for you to get the message????
They have been doing this for a while now, and you STILL don't get it. They might just have to step up their game If they want to win your heart then since showing you normal romantic signs isn't enough....❤️🧡💚💙❤️🩹❤️🩹
Ehhhh, sorry that it turned out to be a yandere scenario at the end.
But I actually want to rant about something first, so I'll make this quick as possible. So first off, I find it pretty annoying when people come on your blog, YouTube channel, or wherever and comment stuff like 'They're kids', 'stop sexualizing minors'.
And then they proceed to ignore those who ACTUALLY sexualize minors. Like how does that even make sense???
My guess is that these people haven't seen people dating in highschool, middle school, and elementary school. (Yes, I have seen people dating in elementary school, even my siblings saw it too)
But anyways, sorry you guys had to see me rant like this and it turned out to be long. This just has been bothering me lately and I wanted to get it off my chest.
#south park x reader#south park#kyle broflovski x reader#stan marsh x reader#eric cartman x reader#kenny mccormick x reader#kenny mccormick#kyle brovlofski#eric cartman#stan marsh#southpark sp#southpark blog#sp x reader#x reader#southpark x y/n#southpark scenarios#southpark headcanons
152 notes
·
View notes
Text
Don't know why i'm writing this, maybe it could be cathartic, maybe it could help me find some other friends here.
Don't know why i'm using all these photos to write this post.
It's been ages since I last posted on this platform, and it was about a completely different subject.
Nothing wrong with that, of course. but my tumblr's nickname is based on that very person, so it's strange to change all of a sudden.
I've always felt a particular connection with music. It helped me through a lot: when I was being bullied at school for my weight, when nobody wanted me, when everything at university seemed to be falling apart.
But i've always been a little bit reluctant to try new singers and bands. That's when my friends came to stop this habit of mine.
They sent me photos of this fella right there in these photos, and I was like "ok, he's hot but does he make good music?". It turned out that yes, he makes good music. But I was only listening to 2 or 3 songs, so I didn't really had that much to judge.
But my friends, who are big fans of The 1975, practically forced me to buy a ticket to go to the SATVB Tour in Milan. It would have been an occasion for us to reunite (I live in Turin, they live in Milan and we don't see each other that often now that we work). So we bought tickets like a year ago and almost forgot about it.
The day of the concert was coming and honestly, I was feeling a little bit under the weather because of some things that were happening in my life last month. I had to drive for an hour and half (back and forth) to go there and I was alone in the car. Tiredness, money, time: everything was worrying me.
But I went anyway. Just to see my precious friends.
I started to study the setlist some days before the concert, just to shout some other lyrics rather than the only ones I knew. I was stunned by the verses, the words they used, the voice Matty has and the melodies the band uses in their songs. I went to the concert not knowing what to expect, maybe one of the usual concert I went to.
But boy, was I wrong.
Singing those song was liberating. I took some videos and then I tried to enjoy the rest of the show. Sometimes I was just admiring the stage, admiring Matty and how well he performes and owns the scene. My friends was like: "are you still on this Earth?". That was the right question, because I felt like I was being moved to another dimension where just the band and me were there. Nobody else existed.
I was unthinkingly worshipping Matty.
In the next days, I also recouped all the interviews, claiming that it was just to "practice my listening skills with British accent" - I work in an English private school and I've studied foreing languages at university. But it wasn't just that, ofc.
That's how my "obsession" started lol
All this wall of text to say that I need to make friends here. Because I noticed a lot of wonderful users that 1) write ff so beautifully 2) are so damn funny 3) have my same interests 4) helped me with my obsession lol
Since I'm new to this fanclub, I would like to chat with somebody who could explain me all the inside jokes or all the memes that sometimes I find on IG. And why not, practice my English as well.
My inbox is always open!
Love ya all.
-B
#matty healy#george daniel#ross macdonald#adam hann#the 1975#still at their very best#please help me overcome my obsession#it's driving me insane#is there something wrong with me#sorry for being depressing#sorry for the wall of text I just wanted to practice my English
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
I’m so glad that you had a lovely time in Tokyo!! Bring me in your suitcase next time? /j <3
What’s your advice for travelling on your own???
This is probably going to be a long one, so I apologize in advance 😅 Here's some advice that has helped me on my solo trips to Korea and Japan:
• Do research on where you're going. See what's allowed in the country (especially if you're bringing medications). Read up on other people's travel experiences in that country. Know what kind of transportation you'll need to use there and how to access it (trains, buses, taxis, rental cars). Make sure you have a bit of an idea of what to expect when you get there, so culture shock won't hit you hard.
• Have foreign currency *before* you leave. Chances are you'll need it as soon as you land at your destination.
• Make sure you have a power adapter/wall charger in case they have different outlets. A back up phone charger and pocket wifi is also a must!
• Find points of interest that you might enjoy visiting and make a private Google map with all those places marked. Then if you're in an area that happens to have a lot of your interests in it, you can tackle them all at once. This was my map for Tokyo! I made two separate lists; one for places I wanted to visit, and one for restaurants I wanted to try.
Unfortunately I didn't get to visit all of these because my trip was only 5 days. But it gave me a good idea of areas I could go to hit multiple points of interest!
• Make sure all your legal documents are valid. Passports, visas, licenses, etc. Make sure you know what documents you need to enter that country. Also bring a photocopy of those documents just in case something happens to the original.
• Get travel insurance. It's cheap and easy to get. And if something goes wrong, you'll be completely covered to be flown back home.
• Do what you can to keep yourself safe. You can buy personal safety items or read up on self defensive measures to take while traveling. I have this little siren doorstop, so if anyone tries to come into my hotel room, it not only blocks the door from opening but also emits a 120db siren to scare anyone off.
And it works *very well*. I nearly deafened myself when testing it XD
• Always be alert and aware of your surroundings. Tourists are easy targets for pickpockets because we're so distracted by everything (especially in big, tourist heavy cities).
• Never tell anyone that you're traveling alone. Book your hotel room for 2 people (its the same price as single rooms anyway). And give your hotel info to someone back home that you trust so they can know where you'll be.
• Trust your gut instinct too. If you're getting bad vibes off someone, just walk away and distance yourself from them.
• Don't be afraid to try new things! New foods, music, dancing, shows, festivals, etc. Just get out there and see things you've never seen before!
• This is kinda a personal preference one, but *avoid* tourist spots. So many people line up to take the same pics in the same tourist trap locations, waiting hours just for nothing. Instead, speak to locals and do things they recommend! Or just wander around and see what you stumble across. Touristy areas tend to have more expensive prices for everything anyway, so you'll save money going elsewhere! XD
• Allow your plans to change based on what you personally feel like doing in that moment. Don't force yourself to stick to a travel itinerary.
• Bring snacks just in case your tum craves something familiar. I usually stick to granola bars or Biscoffs since they last a while.
• If you're going somewhere that has a different language, learn the basics in that language. Knowing how to say "hello", "yes", "no", and "thank you" will help you so much! And locals tend to love seeing tourists put an effort into trying to communicate with them in their language.
• Also be patient. There will be times when there will be confusion between you and other people. That's just what happens when two different cultures meet. But don't get mad. Try calmly working thru the confusion and see if you can figure something out.
• On that same note, BE KIND. You are a guest in someone else's home. You have no right to demand things to be a specific way. Respect their rules, even if it doesn't make sense to you. Be grateful that you have this amazing opportunity that so many others may never have.
Solo traveling can be pretty intimidating. But if you plan and prepare everything well before you leave, your trip will be so much more enjoyable!
Let me know if you have any other questions about solo traveling! I want you guys to have safe and fun trips too!! ^^
#ama#nokki natter#ask#sorry for the long write up but I put a lot of effort into my solo trips XD#travel tips
29 notes
·
View notes
Note
I love ur work sm, it’s always great to read when I need me some clone content
Can I get uhhhh, Fives (or any other clone you choose, although I feel like fives would be good for this) x shy fem!Reader who’s very inexperienced/a virgin, and like VERY inexperienced, like sis has never even touched herself before (not because of like religious reasons or whatever, she just literally didn’t know how)
Ty :)
Aloha!
Thank you so much!
Yes you can :)) I think Fives is a good 'go to guy' for scenarios like this, but don't underestimate Echo!
Okay here we go- Fives for you :)
Fives x Virgin Fem!Reader-Smut Short Fic - Part 1/2 I've Got So Much Love For You
Soft Smut Short Fic
Warnings: A bit angsty/ Strong language
Summary: You and Fives have been a couple for a little while now. You haven't had any intimate experiences yet. However, thanks to Fives, you are already a pro at kissing, and he loves to make out. So far he hasn't pushed you into anything and he probably doesn't intend to, yet you feel uneasiness about the subject of becoming more intimate. You're afraid he won't wait much longer for you to allow more. However, this is not due to him but rather to his environment and how it reacts to your until now rather chaste relationship. Other than that, he has a reputation for being flirty and hands on. You fear he might start to get bored with you. Don't worry, Fives already knows how to handle you and your fears.
PART 2
I've Got So Much Love For You
You're nervous, as you always are when you're on your way to meet Fives. It's that comfortable nervousness, the one that makes your heart beat faster just at the thought of seeing him soon, hearing his voice and melting under his cheeky smile.
Your pulse is fast, everything inside you is tingling the closer you get to your meeting point. You're on your way to the elevators that lead to the rooftop garden atop your apartment complex. This rooftop garden is where you always meet because you happened to meet there the very first time. It's a cute little tradition. You meet on the rooftop garden every time and then go from there to your apartment or to a restaurant or a movie theater. It had been Five's idea when you wouldn't tell him exactly where you lived on the first date.
As you're at the bend in the hallway leading to the elevators, you hear voices, clones, unmistakably. One of them is Fives, you can hear it in the way he emphasizes the words. The other voice of one of his brothers, apart from being the voice of a clone, is not familiar to you. Your heart beats faster with joy, but you stop when you hear the unknown clone say, "How long have you two been together now?"
"Almost three months," Fives replies, and your heart leaps at the proud tone that resonates in his words.
"And you still haven't been intimate?"
There is a pause and you feel your heart slip into your pants. You stay out of sight behind the turn in the aisle and prick up your ears.
"This is none of your business, but what makes you think that anyway?" asks Fives finally, a little irritated.
"Well, it's obvious from the way you walk," the other voice sneers.
You can hear Fives' eye roll in his voice as he says, "Gee, Sly, you sure are talking trash again"
"Trust me! I see that! The way you're walking it's obvious you've got bulging balls!" laughs Sly.
Fives laughs, "Shut up and get lost, I'm on my way to a meeting with her"
Sly lets out a whistle and says, "Ooooh, maybe she'll let you have her today."
"You let me worry about that", snorts Fives.
You waited until Fives got on the elevator and the other clone left. As you also board one of the elevators to the top, you have a very queasy, uncomfortable feeling in your stomach on the ride up and your heart feels heavy.
Fives is already standing there, as usual he has no patience in his butt. He paces up and down. But he smiles broadly as he sees you coming into the garden. However, his smile freezes and disappears, finally giving way to a worried expression.
"What's wrong? What happened?" he asks as he approaches you and finally gently grabs your upper arms with both hands, left and right.
Of course, he immediately noticed that something was wrong. You're apparently not very good at hiding your feelings, at least not from Fives.
Nervously, you say, "Nothing's wrong. What could be wrong?"
Fives tilts his head slightly to the side and looks at you scrutinizingly. He doesn't seem to believe you. You know that critical look in his brown eyes.
"Are you sure there isn't something you want to get off your chest?" he inquires.
You get even more nervous, can't look him in the eye anymore. In your mind's eye, you have a very strange image of Fives with thick, blue balls the size of meilooruns. You're not sure if you want to laugh or cry.
"It's nothing," you say, smiling shyly at him.
You know he still doesn't believe you, but doesn't press you further. With a soft sigh, he kisses your forehead and says, "Maybe you'll tell me later when we're cuddled up on the couch."
You almost forgot, tonight you have a movie night planned at your house. You swallow but keep smiling as he takes your hand and walks with you to the elevators. Of course you are attracted to him and with your touches and kisses you have felt arousal, even sometimes when you were just thinking about him. But you haven't even dared to touch yourself yet, how should you know how to touch him?
You spend the way to your apartment in silence and Fives keeps giving you a sideways glance. Whatever is on your mind doesn't seem to let him go. You'd love to know what's on his mind. Does he perhaps also have insecurities and fears towards you? Is he also worried that he might make mistakes?
"What are you thinking about?" you ask him quietly as you open the door and Fives walks into your living room with a thoughtful expression.
He turns to you as you are about to close the apartment door and says, "Honestly, I'm still wondering what's on your mind. I'm a little worried it might have something to do with our relationship."
For a moment you look at him with surprised silence. You didn't really expect him to be unsettled. Not Fives.
"What do you mean. What should be the matter with our relationship?" you finally ask him curiously.
Fives shrugs, flashes a wry little nervous smile, and replies, "I am one face among so many that are the same. Perhaps you have grown weary of the sight. Maybe another one of my brothers appeals to you more.... I don't know, things like that."
You are shocked to hear that he really has such thoughts. You certainly don't want him to feel so insecure. Fives should not be afraid that he might not be enough.
You finally give in and say, "It's nothing like that."
"Aha! So there' s really something bothering you?"
He has one eyebrow cocked at you, his expression scrutinizing.
"Yes. It also actually has something to do with our relationship. But not what you might think"
Fives frowns, looking even more worried than before. You can tell he doesn't know what to do with his hands. He scratches the back of his neck, then crosses his arms in front of his chest, as if he's already preparing himself for a low blow.
Fives takes a deep breath and says, "Okay. Shoot. What's up?"
You walk into the open kitchen where he can also see and hear you from the living room. As you pour you both a Corellian ale, you begin to speak.
"I don't really know how to say this. But I heard you earlier, or rather you guys. You and Sly, by the elevators. What you guys were talking about got me thinking."
Fives laughed, he was amused and relieved.
"Because of the comment about... My way of walking? That's just nonsense, mesh'la"
You hand him one of the ale glasses and take a sip of your own before saying, "Well. Is it really nonsense?"
He blinks in confusion and looks at you questioningly.
"What do you mean?"
You shrug your shoulders cautiously.
"So far, when we've been close, we've never gone very far, if you know what I mean. We've been together for a while, though, and I wonder how much more patience you can muster."
Fives laughs softly.
"As much as is necessary my love"
"And that is?"
He frowns.
"What exactly is it about this whole thing that makes you so nervous?"
You chew on your lower lip for a while and finally blurt out almost hastily, as if the sound of the words frightens you, "I'm a virgin!"
Fives blinks several times, then a light comes on.
"Oooooh. So you're nervous about that famous first time? That's what's on your mind?"
With a sigh, you admit, "In a way. I was worried you might get bored with me because you've been waiting so long. Besides, I would really like to get closer to you, even on a physical level. But I have absolutely no idea how and what to do, what to expect."
Fives grabs your hand and with a smile pulls you to the sofa, sits down with you and says, "I'm in no hurry. Sure of course I think about it, that's normal. But I've got so much love for you, Cyar'ika, it doesn't matter how long I have to wait for it"
Your heart beats very fast and wild in your chest.
"What if I want to try today?"
He smiles wryly.
"Then I would be more than willing to comply with your request. However, I don't want you to feel pressured because of my brother's stupid comments. That was just nonsense. He was just teasing me, we do it to each other all the time."
You shake your head.
"No, not exactly. I've thought about it before, his words just fueled the worries that were already there a bit. I really want to get closer to you very much"
Fives caresses your cheek.
"Anytime, beautiful"
"Can you show me a few things?"
Fives smile widens.
"I'd love to"
Ko-Fi
@rintheemolion
@andyoufollowyourheart
@clone-whore-99
@brynhildrmimi
@kaliel2310
@misogirl828
@tech-deck
@meshla-madalene
@chxpsi
@thebahdbitch
@nahoney22
@ladykatakuri
@darkangel4121
@ttzamara
@arctrooper69
#fives#asks#star wars#clonelove#star wars the clone wars#ct 5555#arc 5555 x reader#arc 5555 fives#arc 5555#fives x y/n#fives x fem!reader#fives x you#fives x female reader#fives x reader#fives smut#fives fluff#virgin reader#star wars: the clone wars#clone trooper#clone wars#clone x reader#clones x reader#clones#star wars clone wars#the clone wars#clone x reader romance#reader insert
165 notes
·
View notes
Text
I hate you? Pt.2
Y/n x Spencer Reid
Warnings: Language, Mention of death, possible murder,
As we walk into the police station I notice people I went to highschool with some even middle school. I’m to busy looking around seeing nothing has changed. Reid is watching I can see him from the corner of my eye. Hotch is leading us to the sheriff, who also happened to be my ex boyfriend. His name is-
Hotch: Officer Wes nice to meet you
Wes: Hotch correct
They shake hands and Hotch introduces him to the team, shaking everyone’s hands.
Hotch: And then ssa y/n
Wes looks at me and i meet his gaze. He gives me a look that makes my skin crawl. I’m disgusted but however I want to keep my life away from my job so I act like I didn’t date him. I go to shake his hand.
Wes: Oh y/n really *he pulls me into a hug*
I wiggle around to get out of his grasp. I’m clearly not comfortable. He lets go of me and that’s when I see the look on my teams faces. They know something is going on they just don’t know what. They also know that I hate when people touch me and pull me into a hug, of course excluding Garcia.
Hotch: I’m supposing you have a room for us to work
Wes: Yes, y/n can lead you to the room
Everyone looks at me, even Reid is giving me a look i just don’t understand it though. I usher them to follow me to one of the back rooms that has a large table and whiteboards. Everyone starts working and organizing all the paperwork when Wes walks back into the room.
Wes: Hey y/n can I talk to you for a min
Y/n: Well I’m kinda worki-
Wes: Hurry up let’s go
He gives me a look. He will say something if I don’t go. I give Hotch a look for his okay to go and he gives me a head nod, I start walking out when someone pulls my wrist. It’s Reid.
Reid: Why do you need her
Wes: It doesn’t concern you
I look at Reid, I’m irritated now. Why would he care. Wes was right it had nothing to do with Reid so why is he acting like this now. I pull my hand from his wrist.
Y/n: Don’t worry about it
I give Reid a little rub on the shoulder and then I follow Wes to his office when he locks the door.
Wes: So y/n
Y/n: What do you want Wes
Wes: Come on baby don’t act like you don’t want me
He puts his hand on my cheek. I swear to go ima beat the shit out of him.
Y/n: Get your fucking hands off of me Wes
Wes: Why is it because of the pipe cleaner with eyes, the smart Dr. Reid
Y/n: Shut up Wes
I pull his hands away and start walking towards the door. I quickly unlock it and open the door.
Wes: You’re team doesn’t know about the accident huh y/n
I turn back toward him.
Y/n: You need to shut the hell up
I close the door almost slamming it. I walk back towards him and shove him into his desk.
Wes: What’s wrong y/n does your team not know about you killing your sister
Y/n: I didnt fucking do anything
Wes: That’s why they found your fingerprints on the gun huh
He has a stupid smirk on his face. He knows what he’s doing talking about my sister. I didn’t kill my sister and I don’t know how the my fingerprints ended up on the gun.
Y/n: Im not a fucking killer
Wes: That’s not what your file here says, what if your team stumbled upon it
-Teams pov-
Hotch: Do any of you know why y/n is being wierd around Wes
Emily: She told me and jj she use to live here
Hotch: On here file she said she always lived in Virginia
Rossi: You don’t think she’s connected to this case do you
Hotch: I don’t know
Morgan: We’ll let’s not assume she is for now we just have to watch her
Jj: Someone should go check on her she’s been gone a while now
Emily: Yeah that Wes guy gives me the creeps
Hotch: Reid why don’t you go
Reid: Why me
Hotch: Go Reid
-Rieds Pov-
I get up and starts walking to Wes’ office. After what y/n did to me on the plane I couldn’t concentrate. Anyways I’m close to Wes’ office and that’s when I see y/n she opens the door and then slams it. What are they doing in there. She seems pissed off. I get to the door and decide to listen in on the conversation. Wait y/n’s fingerprints we’re on what!
-Y/n pov-
Y/n: Fuck you Wes I don’t need to explain myself to you
I start walking to the door and pull it open. That’s when I see Reid right by the door. How much did he hear? What is he going to say? Fuck.
A/N: Okay so I made this chapter a little short because I plan on making the next chapter long and field with plot twists. If you have any suggestions leave a comment. Thank you :)
#spencer x reader#spencer reid#emily prentiss#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#david rossi#derek morgan#penelope garcia#enemies to lovers
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
@cacodaemonia tagged me for this and I'd rather do ANYTHING than work right now so...
20 Questions for Writers
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
149 at the moment.
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
119,562
3. What fandoms do you write for?
99.9% Star Wars The Clone Wars, but there are a few for Stargate, Firefly, Supernatural, and other SW incarnations thrown in.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
When the Cat's Away (167)
Pillow Talk (137)
Intensive Care (131)
Forty Winks (128)
Whiskey, Tango...Foxtrot?! (108)
Interestingly (or perhaps predictably?) they are all Codywan and the last four were written for an event.
But also? If I ran AO3, I would eliminate Kudos.
5. Do you respond to comments?
Always. Though not always promptly. I feel like the least I can do is thank people for taking the time to both read AND comment.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Hmm. IDK. I really don't ever write angst? How does one define an angsty ending?
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
I'm not sure how to answer this one, either. Most of my fics have what could be described as happy endings...I don't know that any of them are happier than any others, though?
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Not yet. But I think I fly low enough on the radar that no one really knows to read me unless they know me personally?
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Welp. I have tried, anyway. I did a series of smutty drabbles as practice in 2023, but they pale in comparison to what I would consider actual smut.
The closest I think I have come to real smut is a Thire/OFC Jedi piece, but I think even that is probably like rated R for nudity, not graphic sex.
I do not really feel qualified to write m/m smut and I only did the m/f as an exercise to prove to myself that I am not an actual prude.
10. Do you write crossovers?
I have, in the past. But nothing since the early 2000s.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I am aware of.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes! So cool to have been asked that.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Yep--a couple of times, with mixed results.
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
So. I don't actually tend to ship? At least not like everyone else seems to? I know I know. I do fandom wrong.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
A sequel to my first piece of SW fic that was written in 2002 right after ATOC came out. I started it when Kenobi was airing, got maybe 20K words in and...stopped. For lots of reasons.
16. What are your writing strengths?
I think I am pretty good at rhythm and character POV. And maybe narration.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
I think I used to be pretty decent at action, but now it really vexes me. It tends to feel very tit-for-tat in drafts which drives me crazy because the rhythm is off to my "ear".
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I don't care for it, actually. It feels very forced and inaccessible, so I wonder why people even bother. A sprinkling of words here and there is okay, but whole conversations? No thanks.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Well. Do my self-insert Wonder Woman (Lynda Carter era) pieces count? I was like 6 or 7 at the time...so, not IN fandom. If not...Highlander: The Series.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
I don't know that I have one? Maybe one of my old HL fics, which I am sure I would hate now, but really loved at the time.
Otherwise, I have gathered my personal fave SW fics into a series:
Spiral Bound
I like them all for various reasons. Don't make me choose.
And now, god damnit, I have to go back to work. But I tag @odekiisu, @come-chaos, @valkeakuulas and @elthadriel, as well as anyone else who wants to play.
And here's a copy of the questions, to make it easy for folks to answer:
20 Questions for Writers
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
3. What fandoms do you write for?
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
5. Do you respond to comments?
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
8. Do you get hate on fics?
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
10. Do you write crossovers?
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
16. What are your writing strengths?
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
19. First fandom you wrote for?
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
What I’ve learned so far about ‘manifesting’
i find it extremely idiotic how people believe that they have to do this and that to get their desire. believe me, i used to be like that too. 2-3 years ago i joined a shifting community and let me tell ya, everyone overcomplicated the basics. thats when i gave up and left.
a few weeks ago when i was in a negative, heartbroken state and was begging to have my sp back, a manifestation video came up from this user called hyler. i followed her instructions and even sammy ingram’s.
that’s also where i discovered neville goddard for the first time.
i found it quite odd that we had to do affirm all the time, and thats what i did. i still felt weird, unaccomplished. i did get results, the negatives and the positives. i kept on holding on those results as a proof my sp loved me. but deep inside i knew what i was doing was completely wrong. if they tell you to live in the end, why would i affirm 24/7 to have that desire?
+also adding this, i’ve heard about the void state everywhere in pinterest and here and let me tell ya, after the experiences i’ve had in the shifting community, i stayed the (language) fuck away from that. yes sorry for the people who do the void state, yes cool if you do it if it works for you but for me i just hate doing methods.
it didnt make sense for me. i decided to listen to myself and found out more about neville goddard and edward art.
these two gentlemen made me open my eyes for the first time. this is what ive been missing. ive missed the whole point, everyone missed the whole point.
please study edward art’s works and his i am meditation.
anyways, the whole point is that you literally don’t have to lift a finger to have that desire you want. i’ve made some notes for myself when reading edward art:
“If you lived in a world where all things are possible, and you could create anything you want, would you choose to create a situation and then worry about it? No you would not. You only do because you are identifying yourself with your Outer-man! When I start to feel afraid, or worry, or feel pressure that causes me anxiety, I realize that I AM the INNER MAN CREATING that in the WORLD OF IMAGINATION.”
“I want you to stop worrying about HOW or WHEN it is going to happen and instead FEEL secure KNOWING this 3D world reflects what your INNER SELF HAS AND IS WITHIN.”
“In order to actually lose yourself in the imaginal act, one must accept it is real and let go entirely of the outer-world.”
“One must suspend rational thinking, and just accept it is real. They will free themselves that way in their mind.”
“You cannot be afraid anymore to feel and imagine what you want.”
“When I speak of feeling I do not mean emotion, but acceptance of the fact that desire is fulfilled.”
everything is all YOU. everything comes from YOU. YOU are the reason why things are like this. there’s legit no Universe telling you what you have to do. there isn’t anyone you have to follow to have what you want. no. that isn’t the point. the point is that you have been following yourself. everything has been you all along.
so basically about having that desire in imagination….. i know that you don’t have it physically in 3D but that does not matter. the thing you desire is the FEELING. please you must be very (excuse for my language) fucking stupid if you want it in the 3D.
imagine you already have your sp in the 3D, youve done the hard work and he’s/she’s yours now. great. you don’t feel anything, do you?
why do you want to be with your sp? ask yourself that.
im probably thinking that you want to be loved, yes?
bingo, that is the exact thing you desire. YOU desire to be loved. and guess what?
you are already loved. you legit don’t have to do anything to be loved. you are already loved. and i know, how tf am i loved when i’m single?
get that ‘single’ off your vocabulary. what’s important here that the 3D does not define you. put it inside your head. repeat that. remind yourself that.
the 3D is a reflection of your 4D. the 3D wouldn’t exist if the 4D never existed. the 3D lives off of the 4D (your imagination basically)
see? don’t tire yourself out by worrying about the 3D that you cannot change. it’s all in place, you cannot change it. the only way you can change it is by changing yourself.
no i do not want you to change your sp’s behaviour (remember eiypo) i want you to change your behaviour.
how?
well, how would you act and feel if you’re dating your sp?
would you still be worrying about the 3p? would you keep on checking his status if he’s online? would you be wondering if he loves you? would you be questioning on why he hasn’t came back?
all of that is useless! you’re basically still embodying as someone who’s desiring their sp. that is not what you want.
it is easy. you wouldn’t do all of those things. you already embody as someone who is in a happy relationship with your sp. you already know that you are loved. you never have to worry about them. you never feel stressed at all. you’re happy.
that is what’s important. you don’t have to be in the same state all the time btw, if you get reminded or get extremely anxious; just STOP FOR A SECOND.
don’t start affirming or start visualizing. don’t ask yourself if you’re doing it right. what is the point????? of asking that??????
instead, all you have to do is ‘know’ you already have them. leave it be. don’t meddle with it. trust that it has already happened. spoiler: it did ;)
don’t even think about the 3D, the 3D instantly changed because you changed. there is no such thing about waiting for the 3D to conform. there is no such thing about the 3D being your slave and has to obey you (let me tell ya i was confused when i saw those affirmations) the 3D and the 4D go by hand in hand. that’s the thing here.
so yeah.
i’ve read edward art’s works (plus other ppl) like few days ago so this is all the things i’ve learned. just in few days, how crazy is that lmao.
anyways, i hope you learned something from here, i also learned some new stuff while writing this.
bye 🫡
#law of assumption#neville goddard#sp#manifesting#manifestation#edward art#i hope it helped you ehehe
15 notes
·
View notes
Note
SOO I HAVE AN IDEA….because….well..all i think about is pepe sooooo yes…..😔😔😔
based on the moment i knew by taylor swift(i love her if you couldn’t tell)
sooo its readers birthday and she is alonsos daughter( because i saw that he and pepe are really close🤞🏻🤞🏻) and ofc her and pepe are really good friends if not best friends.
and because she is fernandos daughter she is basically friends with a lot of the formula 2 and formula 3 drivers and they are at her party and its gonna be wild😼😼😼😼😼
anyway so reader has a bf and ofc he didn’t show up.(he could be any boy or a f2/f3 driver🤷🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️)
reader doesn’t really care at the beginning that her bf didn’t showed up because she knows he is busy or something like that. so she dances with the girlies and the drivers(mostly pepe🥰🥰), just being happy that everyone is there with her.
but it was the moment when she needs to blow the candles, everyone is singing happy birthday and things that are happening at a birthday party:)))
and it hits her that her boyfriend, the person that means the most to her isn’t there so she runs to the bathroom in the middle of the singing. so ofc pepe runs after her.
standing outside of the bathroom door he asks her whats wrong even if he knows because hes IN LOVE WITH HER SINCE THEY MEET??!!?!!!!!??🫰🏻🫰🏻🫰🏻🫰🏻
and suddenly she opens the door and hugs him🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹(SOO CUTE IM CRYING) and she says to him that her bf didn’t showed up and she couldn’t do that anymore because it hurts her and blablablaaaa….so pepe comforts her by running his finger through her hair(JAHAHAABAJAJAJAHAHAHJAJAB)and other cute thingssssss
and they go on the balcony and talk about their friendship and life(like a deep talk) not caring about the people inside(but like everyone is watching them??!!!!??🥹🥹🥹)
and when they go inside pepe stays with her for the rest of the night making her laugh and she forgets about her shitty bf🥰🥰🥰🥰
later, when the party is over pepe helps her to clean up her apartment but?????HER PHONE STARTS RINGING…her bf(ex bf🤫🤫🤫🤫)
calls her and she answers.the bf says that he’s sorry he couldn’t make it and reader says that she is sorry too:))))and tells him that it’s over between them….and after they cleaned up everything they are getting ready for bed…and pepe is going in the living room to sleep on the couch but reader comes in the middle of the night and confess her feelings for him and they kiss🍾🍾🍾🍾🍾🍾🍾🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉
also im sorry if there are mistakes but english is not my first language soo yes😭
i hope im not annoying you with all my yapping!!!!!😔😔🤞🏻🤞🏻🤞🏻
i love you and take care of yourself💜
okay sweetheart, 1. you could never annoy me with any yapping, espECIALLY if it's about pepe. i dare you to try to get me annoyed, you won't succeed.
and 2. you're a geNIUS !!! i love this idea SO much. alonso!reader x pepe growing up together, subconsciously both always kinda crushing each other. and things have been heading kinda south with yns boyfriend for a while, which pepe also knows (because ofc she's complaining to him about her boyfriend, always going off about everything he does wrong, but pepe can't really say anything about how you should leave the bf because he doesn't wanna seem like he's affecting ur relationship)(even tho he rlly wants to)... and him not showing up to yns bday is just kinda the last straw :( and of course pepe is so good to her and does his best to help her not think about it, but when yn runs away he gets heartbroken too 💔 but he's so supportive in whatever she chooses and whatever she does 🥺 and he like doesn't really expect her to actually want him back and especially not that soon ?? but like they both realize that they're meant for each other so why hold back 🤭
i love u too darling!! thank you so much for this!! pls take care, have a lovely weekend <3<3
#i rlly rlly wanna write this 🥺🤭 such a great idea#i love u#this was so on point with the song also omg#also no no dont apologize for your english !! i understood it all no problem <3 im not perfect either#english is hard tbh#so dont worry loveeee 🫶🫶#asks!#alexandra <3#pepe thoughts
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mokum Part 2 (Alfie Solomons x Reader, Modern AU)
Genre: Romance, Angst, Humour, Modern AU
Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Alfie Solomons x Dutch Fem!Reader
Word count: 20K
Warnings: Swearing/Cussing, allusion to eating disorders, lots of self-doubt and melancholy, Alfie being a tooth-rotting fluffy gentleman, vaping, Papa Solomons/Wolfy antics (yes, that is a warning in and of itself).
Summary: Sequel to Mokum Part 1.
Alfie
It’s funny, innit, ‘ow I get to meet the little dove in a city that’s called a safe haven. A place where I don’t ‘ave to worry about the business or me whole bloody kingdom. Yeah... real nice place, Mokum.
Exactly what I saw in a recent revelation too. I saw myself sittin' at a window, a cup of coffee in front on the table. The scenery outside was as evanescent as always, slippin’ through Time and Space like the steam from the coffee. Unsteady, waverin’, fluid. Impossible to catch and anchor, to make a concrete world, an existence to fully live in.
But there’s also always another presence across from me. I merely assumed the shadow in the other chair was a person, a spectre of myself to forebode the end or Yahweh ‘Imself wantin’ to talk or give me a proper send-off to Hell. Never assume things you aren’t certain of, right, because you end up makin’ big mistakes that way.
I was wrong.
It was Y/N.
Inside the little bubble in that vision, she stopped time and gave me a chance to live. To forget me health and enjoy the minutes I have left.
I want to live slowly with her.
I don’t fully understand yet why or the weird effect she ‘as on me. But what I saw will come to fruition one way or the other. Even if I will only get to enjoy it for a second, right, I will do my damn best to get through that thick pretty ‘ead of ‘ers and ‘ave that moment.
A last cup of coffee with my little dove.
Afterwards, I can let go.
Open the cage and set ‘er free.
Y/N
There is something wonderful about chasing dreams, an ideal like Love. You keep thinking you are worthy of it until you have it because it’s unfamiliar. The heat seeps into the walls you’ve created to protect yourself, crumbling them bit by bit. Yet you fight to prevent them from collapsing, terrified of the aftermath should it happen.
But sometimes it’s worth the wager, the ruin of those high walls. After all, who knows what might arise from the ashes?
One wolf tried and failed, a false victory on my behalf. To this day I regret I didn’t end the war with my heart and mind sooner.
However, now it’s Alfie who’s knocking at the gates with books and coffee.
And I stand on the other side of the door, twiddling with the key.
The sound of butterfly wings being torn ringing in my ears.
Author’s Note: Oh my days, here it is at long last. My hand definitely slipped with this one. However, I won’t lie, it kinda makes me want to dabble into novellas. Maybe I should properly attempt NaNo this summer. Anyway, cracking on!
I’ve thrown some Russian and Dutch into the mix of languages this works seems to become quite rich in. Nevertheless, as before and the same goes for the use of Yiddish, if you see any mistakes when it comes to Russian, please let me know! I will edit the text immediately.
TH Masterlist
Tag List: @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @buttercupsandboys @zablife @babaohhhriley @rose-like-the-phoenix @dreamlandcreations @elijahssuit @liliac-dreamer @alikaheroes @wandawiccan60 @vir-tual
Shoutout to the fathers who believe the blatant lies of their daughters.
“That’s a nice scarf. Is it new?”
“Yeah, I bought it recently.”
Shoutout to the fathers who don’t ask any relevant questions.
“What are you dressing up for this early?”
“It’s Saturday, remember? The fabric market.”
Shoutout to the fathers who don’t converse with their daughters.
“Ah, right! Well, have fun.”
Here’s a shoutout to their absence, their silence.
And the hidden life we daughters live in it.
There’s only a limited amount of luck in a day, but it seems I used up two days worth yesterday.
It isn’t unusual nowadays for there to be a strike and it influencing public transport.
Neither is it for my sister to ask me what I’m up to, although it is strange I have to lie to her. Normally I would never for it is sometimes better to keep my silence rather than tell the sometimes harsh gods-honest truth. However, the question for who the Delftware and white fluffy wolf plushie is came a little too close for comfort.
“A friend. I’m meeting up with them after the fabric market for a pumpkin spice latte.”
Not a full lie.
A half-truth, half true.
I smiled to myself, temporarily having forgotten the rush to get to Amsterdam Central Station.
Funny, that sounds like something Alfie would say.
Shoutout to the sisters who readily accept your word.
At last I reach the destination. I mingle into the crowd to get off the train, but slip from the throng of bodies once my foot hits the platform. As per usual, they stream right to the escalator, where they form a new queue. It will be a miraculous day if the same happens at the stairs a little ways ahead.
Clutching my bag tight and pulling Alfie’s scarf closer, basking in his familiar scent and grateful for its lingering, I descend the steps into the station hall. No matter how many times I’ve been here, I always have to look both ways to make sure I head in the right direction.
Left.
Right.
Ah, there's Starbucks.
Right it is.
Outside, it’s as chaotic as ever. People walk between the trams, aggravating the drivers to no end. All around there are hellos and goodbyes, fragments of various languages on the wind which interrupt the incessant noise from the construction that is still going on. Then again, maybe it isn’t a far-fetched guess to say it’s started anew because of whatever it is they have broken up terrain for this time.
I scan my surroundings in hopes of finding Alfie. Yesterday it was fairly easy to spot him, towering above the rest of the people in the mostly empty parking lot. However, this is a spot where finding a person whose number you don’t have is like searching for a needle in a haystack.
Anyone with a Vape?
The thought makes me uneasy, worry making my fingers itch with the urge to clutch his arm and beg him to stop smoking. Unfortunately, I am not in a position to ask such a thing from him. After all, we only have today. Besides, why would he listen to a girl he barely knows?
I fish the white and Deltware wolf plushie I made out of my bag and look wistfully into its beady eyes. Whatever the outcome of today, I have no regrets having put hours into making the wee thing. If anything, it was good practice.
Though I hope it gives him something to remember me by.
A moment.
A memory.
But you’ll stay with him, won’t you? Until the end.
My breath hitches, my throat constricted by dark melancholy. The world slows down, bodies blurring and melting together, each face as vague and indistinguishable as the next one.
I have to find him. Jaysus fuck, where are you, Wolfy?
It’s ridiculous, a grown young woman clutching a stuffie frantically looking around. But what else can I do, desperate for what little time we have and a reason to apologise?
What if… What if he gave up? Left because I’m late? No, dear gods, no.
A wave of relief lightens the burdens off of my shoulders when I notice a long grey tweed pea coat and wolf cane by the metro entrance. Today’s outfit consists of a navy blue knitted cardigan with a beige tartan blouse underneath, both of them hanging open, and a grey button-up shirt with the top buttons undone. As I approach, I notice some of his chest hair peeking out, dark brown peppered with grey.
Fluffy wolf. Oh my days, where’s your sanity, woman? Your honour?
“Alfie, I’m so sorry, but I got held up at home and the bus was late and then my train got cancelled and-’’ I blabber, my knuckles turning white like the plushie in my hands as my nails dig into it. Even to my own ears, the apology sounds silly.
“Shhh,” he places a hand on my shoulder, “Take a deep breath, darlin’.”
Basking in the warmth of his touch, I inhale deeply and exhale through my mouth.
“There. That’s better, innit?” I nod, indeed feeling a bit better. A twinkle illuminates his eyes. ‘‘You’re wearin’ my scarf. Like it that much?’’
I tug at the fabric, the tips of my ears warmer than before. ‘‘Yeah, it’s- it’s nice. I can return it, though! Right now or I’ll wash it and send it.’’
‘‘Keep it. It looks good on you.’’An eyebrow raised, he shifts his attention to the plushie in my hands. “Who’s this?”
“Oh, right!” I present the half-forgotten surprise gift to him. “I made this for you. As a, let’s say, little ‘thank you’ for yesterday and my leg.”
Alfie takes the plushie from my hands. A smile slowly spreads on his lips as he looks it over. “This little chap needs a name, doesn’t ‘e? I’m not gonna travel with someone without knowing their name, way too dangerous, right, because you don’t know who or what you’re dealin’ with. Then again, yeah… I think I know.”
“Know what? A name?”
“Wolfy the Second,” Alfie proudly declares.
“Who’s the first?”
“Me.”
Is he serious? Judging by that grin, he is. That… That’s kinda cute, though. You’re an idiot.
I press my lips together, cheeks aflame and not from the lingering summer heat. “I see.”
“But ‘e goes by Velvel. Means ‘wolf’ in Yiddish.”
“That’s kinda on the nose, innit?”
A twinkle sparks in his eye at my response. “We could also go with another variant of the name. William or Vladimir, which do you prefer? Or maybe Volf?”
Head tilted, I purse my lips. I snap my fingers at the first idea that pops up. “How about Vladimir Volf?”
Alfie makes a face.
Okay, maybe not.
“Hey, he’s your travel buddy now. You decide.”
“But you’re ‘is creator. You choose.”
“He’s yours to look after.”
“You brought him into this world. A name is a powerful thin’, makes one whole. The honour is yours.”
“Are we seriously debating a plushie’s name?”
“We wouldn’t ‘ave to if you bloody decided.”
I open and close my mouth, gobsmacked by his argument. “Excuse me? If I decided? I gave him to you.”
“You’re cute when you get angry,” Alfie smirks.
Were you simply trying to rile me up just so you could say that? You… you bloody bastard! You idiot!
“I hate you.”
“Now, now, ‘’ate’ is a strong word, don’t you think?”
I cross my arms. “Well, you won’t like the alternative.”
“Which is?”
Don’t make me say it.
“Y/N,’’ he lowers his voice, slowly yet clearly pronunciating his words, ‘‘what’s the alternative?”
I lose the will to remain defiant when he leans in, my body ready to submit in the face of power. “Meanie.”
Alfie laughs heartily. “You don’t ‘ave a bad bone in your body. I think I’ll go with Velvel.”
“Ve- Vel-’’
“Velvel.”
“With a schwa?” He nods. “Velvel. Yeah, you know what? I like that.”
“That’s decided then, innit?” He stuffs the wee thing into his backpack. “So, my fair guide, what are we goin’ to do today?”
“I thought I’d show you Mokum through my eyes. I mean, the Dam and Rijksmuseum are nice and all, but there’s more to Amsterdam. Although, the Rijks does have a nice art collection, so, if you’d like, I mean, I don’t know how much you like art galleries-’’
“‘Ow do you think I gain inspiration for my designs?”
“Well, uhm…’’ I rub the back of my neck, eyes averted to the ground, ‘‘Internet?”
“Fucking ‘ell, I’m only pullin’ your leg. You’re not wron’, though. ‘‘But,” he rests his hands on the handle of his cane, “if my guide thinks it barbarous for me to miss the, ‘ow’d you say it again?”
“Rijksmuseum, often nicknamed ‘het Rijks’.”
“R- Rey-’’
“Rijks. I can’t really think of a word in English that has a similar ‘ij’ sound.”
“Ij- ij- Rijks. ‘Et Rijks.”
“Not bad, not bad at all,” I beam at him. “But it’s quite a wee bit away from here and I think it might become too much for your leg.”
“Darlin’,” he boops my nose, “stop worryin’ that pretty little ‘ead of yours. I’ll strain meself ‘owever fuckin’ much I want. First things first, though, let’s get you your pumpkin spice latte.”
You remembered!
However, there is no chance to let myself be swallowed by the storm of butterflies inside my body to drift on their wings, because my companion seems to be in a rush.
Alfie starts walking ahead, head held high and with a resolute stride like he is on his way to proclaim victory on a battlefield. I scramble after him, gobsmacked by his confidence. “Do you know where you’re going?”
Surely you haven’t spent enough time here in the city centre yet, having been busy with the convention?
Then again, I don’t know what he did before I arrived, after I left, or at night. Who he spent his time with.
I swallow the bitter taste on my tongue and force myself to unclench my jaw while trying to catch up with him. Although his leg is a problem, it doesn’t seem like it is today considering how swift on his feet he is. Alfie is even faster than I am during rush hour and high on caffeine.
“To the Starbucks near the Dam,” he says casually. “It’s the only place I can find ‘ere. You’d expect you’d be able to find anything you desire in a city that claims to be a safe haven.’’
‘‘Maybe your greatest desire right now is a cup of coffee,’’ I say in between breaths, closing the last bit of distance between us with a light jog.
How fast would you be if you were revved up on caffeine and your leg wasn’t hurting?
Alfie blinks, eyebrows raised with a sudden realisation, and then hums in something that holds the middle between amusement and displeasure. He slows his pace to match mine. ‘‘Could be, yeah, but I still need your guidance. Otherwise, I don’t know where your world is. And I’m done with wanderin’.”
“The bookshops of this city are part of it. If you lose me, look for me there. Or, you know, shoot me a message over IG.”
“Or we could call.”
He loops his arm through mine to safely guide us across the street, where we come to a halt. Alfie fishes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, creates a new contact, and hands it to me. Apparently, he named me Funny Accent. “I promise I won’t make unsolicited calls. You ‘ave my word, darlin’.”
I frown and glare at him. “My accent’s not funny.”
“It is, considerin’ who you are.” He bounces on his feet, chuckling. “You give me your number, I change the name.”
“To what?”
“You won’t know till you put it in, won’t ya?”
“I could also not give it at all.” I shrug. “Guess I’ll remain the lass with the funny accent.”
“Except you don’t want to be, do ya?” He tilts his head, full lips pulled into a lop-sided smirk. “Your number, Y/N.”
Grumbling about how he can so easily read me, I fill out my details and hold out his phone to him. “There. Now please change it.”
“Because you ask so nicely,” he purrs. “A promise is a promise.”
Alfie bites his lip, dreaming up a gods-only-know what kind of nickname. Then he nods, types it out, and shows me the screen. “‘Ere. ‘Ow’s that?”
Little dove.
Hardly capable of not giving into the warm fuzzy feeling inside, I nod. “Better.”
“I also have an alternative.”
“Which is?”
A sly smile spreads on his lips. “Let’s first get to know each other a little better and maybe, yeah, if you play your cards right, I’ll tell you.”
“So mean.” I shake my head and place my hands on my hips with feigned hurt. “Here I am, kind enough to be your guide and this is how you treat me.”
“I am terribly sorry, my lady, but we ‘aven’t known each other that long, ‘ave we? Your ‘umble servant merely stated a fact.”
You’re not wrong, though. This is only the third time we’ve seen each other.
“That may be so, but I might forgive your transgression if you give me your number as well, good sir.”
A few people turn their heads and look at us, puzzled by our theatrical bickering. Alfie and I exchange glances. He raises a sarcastic eyebrow and rolls his eyes. I giggle and curl a finger under my nose, head bowed. When I look back at him, he’s grown still, observing me. “What?”
“Nothin’. Never mind, just me old mind goin’ places.” He clears his throat and holds out his hand. “Your phone.”
I pull it out of my bag, create a new contact, and hand the device to him.
“Wolfy?”
Caught red-handed committing a blatant crime of the heart, I turn my face away. “Yeah. I- I can change it.”
“Don’t.” His fingers fly over the screen, typing out his number. Then he hands my phone back to me. “And call me that as much as you like.”
“Wait- You- Hang on, you seriously won’t mind? You know I was being weird when I said that, right?”
Is he for real? Surely he’s joking.
“You were bein’ yourself. And,” he groans, muttering under his breath as he continues, “I kinda like it. Very much.”
“Wolfy,” I tug on his sleeve, lips pulled into a pout and filled with an uncharacteristic amount of bashfulness , “can we please get a pumpkin spice latte now?”
“‘Ow am I supposed to say ‘no’ when you do that, eh?”
“Do what?”
“Entshant mir.” Alfie’s expression brightens when he notices I perfectly understood him. He holds out his arm and instinctively I clutch his bicep. “Let’s go, you clever little dove.”
Unsurprisingly, the coffee shop is stacked to the brim with people, most of them foreigners and teenagers. I let go of his arm and scan the area, but there’s no available seating. “I can check if there’s another branch nearby. Hopefully, we can plop down there. Although, the station has a Starbucks as well and there’s always room.”
“Or we stay ‘ere, I chase a few people away, and we ‘ave a nice and quiet coffee moment together. ‘Ow about that, eh?”
I turn on my heel, searching his face for a clue he doesn’t mean what he said. “You can’t be serious. About the ‘chasing people away’ part, I mean.”
“I am. Really, it’s no trouble.” He runs a hand through my hair. “You get me a cappuccino, right, and I’ll find us a place to sit.”
“No intimidating people. Stay here.’’ I grab his sleeve when he makes to go on his coffee shop war. ‘‘We’ll order together and drink it outside.”
“And where do you think to sit, hm? Maybe I wanna do some people watchin’, a bit of drawin’.”
“What would you draw? Also, no working. It’s your day off.”
“I draw for a livin’, Y/N, but also for pleasure. And maybe,” he leans in close enough for his breath to ghost over my lips, “I want to draw my little dove enjoyin’ her pumpkin spice latte in a nice and cosy environment.”
“You could also do that somewhere else.”
“Nah, my vision is of you, the place ‘ere. It’s good to be stubborn as an artist.” He slips me his card and kisses the tip of my nose. “Go on. Wolfy will find a place to sit.”
With total disregard for the mayhem he unleashed inside me, he mixes into the throng of people. I gawk at him as he does so, my tongue paralyzed, incapable of calling him back.
Which might only make matters worse.
I’m fairly certain an exploded heart is lethal.
He… He kissed me! The tip of my nose! What- What the fuck?
I flip his card between my fingers, biting my lip to suppress the smile tugging on the corners of my mouth.
That was actually quite nice.
A sweet little fragment to be left with.
The queue moves forward at a snail’s pace, but fast enough for me to start panicking about how to order.
One cappuccino, medium, and one pumpkin spice latte, small. No, wait. One venti, is that the medium size? Or grande? I’ll just say medium. And a tall pumpkin spice latte. With no cream. Or should I go medium too? And a focaccia, to share. Yes.
I repeat the order over and over in my head, silently mouthing the words as inconspicuous as possible. Step by step, the moment approaches.
And passes without too much hassle. Well, without too much stuttering and plenty of effort to maintain my composure. Nevertheless, the order came out much smoother than anticipated.
I join the rest of the people waiting for their drinks, scrolling through Instagram to gain some inspiration for future tattoos. However, from underneath my lashes, I scan the café to look for Alfie. Casually I glance around the space when the former doesn’t work out, my chest tightening with the suspicion I look like a skittish moron.
The feeling fades, though, when I notice him sitting by the window. The sunlight illuminates the grey strands in his hair, which form silver highlights in his tousled locks. Sitting at an angle that allows him to watch everyone from the corner of his eye, he’s drawing on his tablet while Velvel watches over him.
He looks as serene as he did in the harbour yesterday, lost in thought as he taps his Apple pencil against his lips. To be honest, I’m glad that in moments like this he seems removed from the world.
Unable to see other women staring at him.
Lusting after him.
Out for what’s mine.
Although, is he really? Alfie can be humorous, casually playful or for reasons yet unknown. But the kiss on the nose, the argument about Velvel’s name, the way he insisted on being noted down as ‘Wolfy’ in my phone, the whole of yesterday.
Is there an ulterior motive?
Or is it plain fun, something to pass the time?
My breath hitches, my fingers growing cold and restless with the need for warmth.
For assurance.
A safe anchor to ground me in reality.
I wish you were right here, holding my hand.
Like he’s read my mind, Alfie turns in his seat and our eyes meet. Whatever he’s seen in mine makes him ready to get up, hand already on the handle of his cane. Nonetheless, he sits down again when I gesture for him all is well.
Sort of.
“A cappuccino and pumpkin spice latte for Y/N?”
“Yep, that’s me!” I turn and grab the drinks.
“Enjoy.”
It’s funny how the mind works. One minute you’re in the present, and in the next a cruel wave of nostalgia hits you with a half-forgotten memory.
The same drinks.
Chris sitting in one of the worn leather chairs in the middle of this very same Starbucks, drawing in his notebook.
Chimes.
Norigae.
Dark eyes bright with a joyous tenderness I’d never seen before when my ghosts sits down across from him and passes him his cappuccino.
Once again testing his ‘puppy taste buds’ even though he clearly hates coffee, nose scrunched for a moment before he forces himself to drink it anyway.
Laughter.
Our laughter.
The high screeching of the steamer pulls me from my reverie.
Shit, Chris, where are you? Do you… Do you still think about me?
The world turns watery while my heart feels like it’s forced through a shredder.
Are you still in love?
I inhale a shaky breath, mentally chastising myself for such a display of weakness.
Turns out I still am. Have been all along.
I breathe in deeply, blink a couple times, and sniffle.
No, this isn’t fair towards Alfie.
Cruel, isn’t it, how the heart remains engraved with the stories you thought had ended long ago? But it isn’t only the heart.
You remember.
Like the forest does.
Acting as if nothing happened, I rejoin the man by the window’s company and put the medium cup in front of him. “There you go. I also got us something to eat.”
He doesn’t pay the food nor coffee any attention, gaze focused on me. I sit down on the chair next to him and take a sip from my pumpkin spice latte. “What?”
“Nothin’,” he grumbles after yet another moment of scrutiny. He clenches and unclenches his fists, the beads of the bracelets around his wrists rattling. “Nothin’.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
For a while we remain silent. Alfie occasionally sips his coffee when he’s not looking at or poking the cup, nibbling on a piece of focaccia I feed him or drawing on his tablet in the meanwhile. I watch the massive crowd manoeuvring the street, tourists trying to make sense of the trams, some afraid to be run over by a car or bicycle, unaware of the policy of ‘just bloody go’. You need to be daring if you hope to get anywhere in this damned city.
“At this rate, we won’t make it to the Rijks.” I glance at my watch, almost half past one. If we are to have proper lunch, surely there won’t be much time to leisurely wander around the museum.
“Mhm.”
“You don’t mind?”
Alfie shrugs, still drawing. “There’s next time. Besides, you owe me a museum trip now.”
I lean in, not that it will prove I misheard him. “I owe you?”
“Let’s phrase it like this. I, yeah, owe you a museum trip. For today, live slow with me.” He smiles softly. “You always seem so rushed.”
“I’m Dutch, we always have business to conduct. We’re merchants.”
He pokes my head. “I mean up ‘ere, mostly, ya silly girl. But so am I. I think we need to do somethin’ ‘bout it.”
“Oi!” I put my coffee down and rub my forehead. However, my stomach churns when his words dawn on me. “What goes on in yours?”
“You don’t wanna know.” Tenderly he kisses my forehead and hums like a pleased wolf when he nuzzles my nose with his, his whiskers ticklish on my skin. “Live slow with me. Let’s just sit ‘ere, drink coffee. I’ll draw, you read. Velvel would like it too.”
“Attached to him already?” I take a big sip from my latte to swallow the last piece of the bread, basking in its spiced warmth.
“Maybe.’’ Alfie pets Velvel with his Apple pencil, moving it in between his ears. ‘‘I’m still jealous, though.”
“How so?”
“You made ‘im. ‘E knows the power you ‘old. Your touch.”
I put my cup down again and reach out to trace his jaw. His beard is coarse yet smooth against my fingertips as I run them through it. “You do as well.”
Brow knitted, his lashes flutter shut. A low groan erupts from his throat as he leans into the touch. “Only, hm, only like this, yeah. Very shallow.”
His hand snakes up my thigh, leaning on it without putting his whole weight on it. It’s the same kind of grip he used back in Birmingham, securing my leg without hurting me. I suppose it can be said it’s rather thoughtful.
Nevertheless, it tightens when I trace his bottom lip with my thumb, using me for support while he rushes forward. In reflex I flinch and lean back, hands on his shoulders to maintain some distance between us. His breath is shallow, his whole body shivering with restraint.
Alfie swallows hard and moves his hand to the side to clench the edge of my seat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Can’t behave, can I?”
I wrap my fingers around his wrist to put his bear-like palm back on my thigh. “I’m not well acquainted with your touch either.”
“You’ve already seen its rough side.” Lips pulled into a straight line, he brushes my cheek. The touch is light, close to jittery. Like he is handling precious porcelain and mortified at the thought of breaking it. “It ain’t swollen. No damage. Did it ‘urt much after I… crossed the line?”
“No, it was okay again by the time we drank coffee.”
“Right.’’ His voice is lacking conviction, cold in its acknowledgement of what happened yesterday.
“It’s okay, Alfie.”
“Right.” He traces the shell of my ear, barely touching it and quick to retract his hand. “Drink your latte. Enjoy the view. Let me do the work and capture this moment, eh.”
So we sit, the chaos of conversations held behind us dimming into a low buzz. Alfie occasionally sips from his cappuccino, but only when I throw him a hint it’s still there. Brow furrowed, his lets his stylus glide over the screen while sometimes mumbling under his breath in Russian, Yiddish, or English. The frown only fades when he glances at me, his features smoothing out into studious wonder.
In the meanwhile, I’m reading on my phone. Nevertheless, it’s difficult to focus on the story when I’m continuously wondering whether Alfie likes books and what he would recommend. Then again, given he’s fascinated by religion and symbolism, I wager he at least likes stories. But does he lean more towards fiction or non-fiction? Or does he prefer the fine line between the two of them?
Outside, Amsterdam gradually transforms into an impossible to navigate sea of people. It’s perhaps the thing I loathe the most about the city, be it here or abroad. It’s gets too busy, too chaotic, too fast. Yet, today, it’s actually less irritating since there’s no obligation to pull us away from here, pop our bubble and throw us back into the throng for work or suchlike.
We sit here, enjoying ourselves in the warm sunlight.
Basking in each other’s presence.
Happily on a date.
Could… could we call it that? I mean, I’m simply his guide, just a friendly local. But, he did kiss my nose. And then there’s what happened just now. Does that mean… no, no, it’s not. This isn’t a-
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I snap out of my reverie, blinking in astonishment. Alfie’s looking at me, head tilted and a frown marring his handsome features. “What do you mean? I was just looking out the window.”
“No, you weren’t. You were too far away for that, darlin’.” He puts his tablet down and leans on the table. “Don’t even think about lyin’. What’re you lookin’ so pale for?”
I squirm in my seat, embarrassed by my own words. “I- I was just wondering if this is… a- a… you know…”
“No, I don’t,” he answers matter-of-fact, but the gleam in his eyes tells me he wants me to use my words.
Like a good girl.
His good little dove.
“Alfie, you know very well what I mean,” I grumble, though even to my own ears I sound like a whining child.
“Go on. Say it.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Say. It. You’re a clever little thing, so use your words.”
“A date,’’ I relent. ‘‘I- I was wondering if this, here, now, is a date.”
“Seems pretty obvious to me.”
“Not to me.” I avert my gaze to my hands, clasped tight in my lap. “I’m a little stupid, so please tell me.”
A big warm palm covers my trembling fingers, a pleased hum vibrating through them. “It is.”
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
It’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you. There was nothing there to begin with, was there?
Above the buzz of conversation and woven into the tunes playing over the speakers, the strange sound I have been hearing since we met resonates in my ears. Like butterfly wings tearing apart.
Rip.
The squeeze he gives my hand was meant to be encouraging, but is firm to the point it hurts. Alfie’s words match the gesture, hasty and desperate despite the effort to keep his emotions under control. “I do. And before your funny little mind is gettin’ ideas again, this is the first time, right, the first time I’m doin’ this. Ollie would be ‘avin’ a bubble if ‘e ‘eard me, but it’s true.”
I look up to take him in, waiting for the lie to break the mask of frantic blue eyes. “You’ve never before-’’
“You’re the first girl, listen, bloody first girl I’ve met up with outside work. The first in a long time, in general.”
“Never married?”
“Never.”
“Partner?”
“I avoid permanent intimacy.”
“Flings?”
“Don’t like ‘em. Only when I couldn’t take care of meself.”
“So, you’re not one for relationships.”
“Don’t mean I’m not willin’ to try.”
“You just said you, and I quote, ‘avoid permanent intimacy’.”
“Maybe I’d like to change that?’’ His features soften, a hopeful calmth smoothing the lines in his face and making him look younger. ‘‘Never simply assume, yeah, makes for dangerous business. You don’t sign a contract you ‘aven’t read, do you?”
“Uhm, well…” Truth be told, there have been times in the past where I blindly signed a contract, simply glad to have a job, a form of income.
He pokes my head again, stressing each word with an additional poke. “You’re indeed a little stupid. Never sign anythin’ without readin’, ya hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I swat his hand away, a dull pain throbbing between my brows.
He grabs my face like he did yesterday, fingers digging into my cheeks. Alfie lowers his voice, a threatening tone lacing his drawl as he leans in, our noses touching. “I asked if you ‘eard me.”
“Y- Yes,” I stammer, caught between panic and the haze caused by the combination of the warmth between my thighs and his presence.
“Yes what?”
“Yes… Alfie?”
“Almost.”
“Yes, Wolfy.”
“Good,” he purrs, loosening his grip. “Glad we’re on the same page again.”
He packs up, drinks the last of his coffee, and puts Velvel in one of the side pockets of his backpack before he slings it over his shoulder. Cane in hand, he looks at me expectantly. “C’mon. Let’s carry on.”
“Hang on, give me a second.” I finish my coffee too and scramble to my feet. Clutching his arm, we leave the building. I hold him a little tighter as soon as our shoes hit the pavement.
“Busy, innit?”
I hum in agreement.
“Easy to lose each other in.”
I grab him a little tighter, reluctant to let go.
What’re you on about?
“Let go of my arm, darlin’.”
“Why?”
What if I don’t want to?
“Because otherwise you’re bound to lose me in this fuckin’ ant nest. Go on. Let go.”
I do as he says, forcing myself to stop clutching him.
But the hesitation immediately disappears when he grabs my hand, his palm warm and rough against mine. “There. Much better. Now we can’t lose each other.” A satisfied grin spreads on his lips. “Where are we off to?”
In spite of trying to suppress it, I hum contently. Only to crumble in the next second, having forgotten the routes I planned for us on the way here. “Um, well, we have two options. Either we crack on to Scheltema, which is a very large bookstore and go from there. Or, we first go to the fabric store I frequent that’s a little outside the centre and work our way back to Rokin, which is just past the Dam.”
“I like option two. It would be good for me leg to get some exercise. ‘Sides, I’d like to see the little seamstress in her natural ‘abitat.” Lips pursed, he tilts his head. “Though, you’re not that, are ya. You’re more like this goddess who creates life with needle and thread.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as call myself a goddess. I’m just a girl who sews.”
“Dos meydl hot geshafn lebn fun di keytn, vos zi hot opgeshnitn fun dem volf, vos hot zikh farvandlt in a mentsh, gekhidusht fun ir magish.”
A girl… something about a wolf… a human, person, individual, whatever, and something ‘bout magic. C’mon, this isn’t fair.
“What did you just say?” I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t shut me out by switching to a language I don’t understand.”
“Just a little story of the woods. One your words made me think of.” He gestures in the distance with his cane. “Lead on, my fair guide.”
“Not until you tell me what you said.” I try to yank my hand out of his grip, but Alfie holds on tight. A flicker of disappointment flashes over his face, mixed with a strange sentiment I can’t name.
“It’s part of a story me mum used to tell me, an old legend of her people. But it’s also a tale told by the people in Scandinavia. In fact, it’s originally a Norse myth. ‘Owever, it’s a strange one since I found it bore similarities to an Irish myth I ‘eard from a couple of Travellers. It’s almost as if it’s a fusion of things. Then, when I was in Israel, and according to my faith, the story was also linked to the life of one of the prophets.”
“What’s the full story?”
“I’ll tell you some other time, yeah.” A weathered look, which makes him look older than he is and tired to the bone, twists his handsome features. “It’s quite a long one.”
“If you don’t wanna tell me, just say so.”
A shock of butterflies kickstarts my body when he kisses my temple. “Come to England and I’ll tell you. There’s an art piece in the British Museum about it, so I’ll get to make good on that date, eh?”
“Promise?”
“I solemnly swear so, my fair lady.” He gives my hand an encouraging squeeze. “Now, can we carry on?”
“That eager to see me browse a fabric store?”
“It’s part of your world, innit, which also makes it part of your mind. Gives me an inklin’ of ‘ow it works. So of course I am.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “Weirdo.”
“I’m a little funny, yeah.” His gaze turns distant. “Both mad, but sharing the same insanity.”
A gift given to a select few so you told me in Birmingham. I’m glad we both have it.
“C’mon, Wolfy, let’s go.” I gently tug on his arm.
As planned, the nickname brings him back to me.
To us.
Here.
Together.
We navigate the mass of bodies back to the crossing near the central station. Some people make way to let us pass after being glared at by Alfie, who keeps me close at his side and towers over me like a human shield. In the meanwhile, I scurry after him, half hidden in his coat. After making a left, we cross the bridge.
Alfie points at the hotel we pass with his cane. “Currently stayin’ ‘ere. Ain’t bad, but it’s a shame there’s a two-person bed when there’s only one of me.”
I follow his gaze, staring at the edifice too. “Sometimes it’s nice, though, to have a big bed all to yourself.”
“Still feels empty. ‘Aven’t been sleepin’ well ‘cause of it,” he grumbles in response.
There’s more to that comment, isn’t there? I’m hard-pressed to believe you missed me so much it kept you awake.
“You don’t have to anymore.” His brow furrows at my remark, questions floating around his head. I nod to the wee plushie in the side pocket of his backpack. “You got Velvel now.”
A dark chuckle bubbles from his throat. “I do, don’t I? ‘E don’t take up much space, though.”
I would. I’d gladly take his place.
Glancing around the plaza with its brown cafés and restaurant, I clear my throat. “Let’s… let’s move on, eh. We’re almost there, just gotta walk right on through.”
We enter the narrow street leading away from where we stand. It passes through Chinatown and leads towards Nieuwmarkt. It’s a big square where, honouring it’s name, there’s basically always a market going on. In the middle of it stands The Waag, a fifteenth-century building that was once part of the city’s walls and acted as a gate. At one point in time, it’s been a guildhall, museum, anatomical theatre and much more.
Totally did not look it up in the train and rehearsed the entire Wikipedia page.
While telling Alfie about the building, we pass by my favourite boba shop. I point at the sign depicting a bunny drinking a milk tea. “That’s one of my favourite places to get milk tea. Shame we just had coffee, but otherwise I’d say we get us some. Or, well, me. I- I’d quickly go get some boba. I mean, I don’t know if you-’’
Fortunately, as he seemingly tends to do, he saves me from breaking out into a ramble. “Never ‘ad it. That’s that Taiwanese drink, right, the one everyone’s losin’ their damned minds over? The one with balls in it?”
I snort at his description. “Yeah, but those balls are called tapioca pearls. And I used to be a sceptic, but it’s actually quite good. However, I have to be in the mood for it. Especially since it’s also a calorie bomb. It’s definitely good for when you’re low on sugar, though.”
“It ain’t wrong to indulge every once in a while,” he says, the grim twist to his mouth hardly hidden beneath his beard. “Food isn’t meant to be worried ‘bout.”
“I like to watch after what I eat. Nothing wrong with that, right?”
“You’re pretty as you are. There won’t be any worryin’, right, when you eat or drink with me. Not ‘ere, not when you come to Margate, not ever. Only, yeah, I, me, Wolfy, gets to worry. ‘Bout the bill tonight, ‘bout being able to provide properly for you. The only thing you get to worry that little ‘ead of yours about is what you want on your plate later.”
Surprised by the twist in the conversation, I squint as if it would help me discover whether I heard him correctly. Judging by his humourless expression, I did. “I didn’t know we were heading out to dinner.”
“We are. We’re on a date and I want to treat you right. Coffee, dinner, a nice long walk, explorin’ the city. Livin’ slow together.” He comes to a halt, grabs my chin with his free hand and tips it upwards, forcing me to look at him. He tenderly swipes his thumb over my bottom lip, in the same way I did earlier. “There’s little I’m serious about when it ain’t business. But I am ‘bout this. Greed is a sin, but one I seem to be guilty of committin’ yet again.”
“How so?”
“Because I want you all to myself today.” A shadow casts over his face. “But that boy, the one who drew in ‘is notebook, ‘e’s still on your mind too, ain’t ‘e?”
I step away, slipping my hand out of his, and shake my head. “No, he isn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me!’’ Alfie roars, but tones down his volume when he notices how it scares me. Nevertheless, he doesn’t do the same for the rage boiling inside him. ‘‘‘E’s the reason you spaced out. ‘Ow much did you two do? Did ‘e take you out like this? ‘Ow far did you go?”
We likely didn’t even make it past the beginning. I created a false start.
One step forward.
“What’s ‘is name?”
One step back.
“Doesn’t matter. None of it does. Yes, I do still miss him sometimes. But I am here with you. With you on my mind.”
“You’re dealin’ with a man now, not a boy” He grabs my sleeve, putting thought into grabbing a part where there’s only fabric, and pulls me to him with enough force to not make me stumble over my own feet. The distance between us closed, Alfie leans in, lets out a deep sigh, and nudges my nose with his in apology. “A man, damned as ‘e is, who will show you what it’s like to be treated right. Because that’s what you want, innit? To be treated well, to be loved right.” He places a hand on my hip and pulls me closer against his warm body, its heat tempting to trigger the uncharacteristic tendency towards complacency I seem to have around him. “By a man older than you. A man with experience. A king.”
I put a hand on his chest to gently push him away. To create some space to breathe.
To make room to forget.
Alfie’s gaze flits my hand to my face. Eyes squeezed shut, he grimaces as he mumbles something in a berating tone under his breath. With a slight tremor in his hand, he envelops my fingers.
“I’m sorry. It’s just,” he begins, his voice devoid of its former fierceness, “I ‘ave this funny thought. Really funny. So much so I loathe it.”
“I think I know what you mean.” I rub his upper arms. “But we’re going very fast.”
“Perhaps we are. Yet, you deserve to know my mind. At least this part.”
“I… I thought, no, never mind.”
Maybe this won’t be a one-time thing.
“Let me do the thinkin’.” He cups the back of my head to draw me in for a kiss on my forehead. “I want you to simply enjoy yourself today. Which means, no thinkin’, no worryin’, no nothin’. You deserve a break.”
“You do too.”
“I wouldn’t know ‘ow. It’s always one fuckin’ thin’ after another. This comes close to it, though, bein’ ‘ere with you.”
“You have my number now. You could call or text me for a break.” Feeling bold, I move in to hug him. Automatically, he wraps me up in his arms. “When I finally get to England, I want you to take a proper break. Put your feet up, have a glass of rum, unplug.’’
“I still have to teach you ‘ow to shave a man, though.” His chest rumbles with a cheeky chuckle. “I do see it as self-care to put you in me lap for a trim.”
A flush of heat treks through my body as I imagine us sitting on the edge of the tub. His dreamy eyes are focused on me while I glide the razor over his skin. He’d easily be able to pick me up and place me wherever he wants.
“What if I mess up? Cut you?”
“You might, but it won’t matter.” He curls a finger under my chin again to make me look at him. “I won’t get angry, I promise. You’ve never done it before, so ‘ow could I expect you to do it perfectly on the first try, eh?” He frowns as he thoughtfully hums. “Funny.”
“What is?”
“Funny,” he repeats. A moment after, as if pulled from a fevered dream, he blinks. “Anyway, enough dawdlin’. Lead on, my fair guide.”
We move on, crossing the Nieuwmarkt and following one of the streets leading off of it. A little further ahead, we round the corner, stepping onto Nieuwe Hoogstraat.
I point to a shop on our right. “Here we are.”
The fabric store consists of three narrow but deep spaces filled with everything you could possibly need for a sewing or knitting project. In the utter left and utter right space, the walls are lined with rows upon rows of fabric. In the middle, you can find the smaller things like buttons and patches. It’s truly a seamstress’s Valhalla.
“Anythin’ you need in particular?” Alfie asks while trailing behind me.
“I use a specific kind of fluffy fabric for the bottom of my plushies. Should be somewhere round here,” I answer as I nod to the woman behind the till and crack on to the space on the right.
The roll of fabric I’m looking for is in its usual spot on top of the display near the front window. I look at it from where I’m standing, mentally cursing my height. “I hate being small.”
Alfie makes a dissatisfied sound. I raise an eyebrow even though I can already guess the reason behind his displeasure. “Being tiny can be a curse.”
But I’ll admit it’s a blessing when it comes to you.
Without waiting for his response, I grab the nearby ladder and set it up. I set a foot on its lowest step after giving it a slight shake to test whether it’s steady.
From behind, rough fingers warm the back of my neck, giving it a light squeeze. “Let me.”
“Really, it’s no problem.” I turn in his grip, oddly comforted by the hold, but don’t step down. “I’ve done this before.”
His hand falls away to push his cane towards me. “Hold this, darlin’.”
“Alfie, you’re not going up the ladder.”
“Well, I sure ain’t goin’ to stand ‘ere while you’re riskin’ your neck.”
I put another foot on the ladder.
“What’re you doing?” A note of sternness mixed with caution sharpens his voice. He taps the floor in annoyance. “Get down.”
I cross my legs and plop down on one of the steps, staring at him in defiance. “Either it’s me who goes up or you who goes down.”
Alfie cocks a sarcastic eyebrow. “Threatenin’ me, int’ya?”
“For your own good.” I sigh in exasperation and roll my eyes. “Alfie, I’m serious. It’s alright, I got this. Like I said, I’ve done this before.”
“I don’t want you to fall, Y/N. Maybe it’s different for you, but I, yeah, I don’t particularly fancy a trip to the ‘ospital. Even less so to drop you off.”
“Just hold the ladder. It’ll be alright.”
He opens and closes his mouth, but groans when he realises protesting is of no use. Instead, he does as I ask and keeps the ladder steady while I clamber up.
With a bit of pushing, pulling, and forceful manoeuvring, I manage to pry the roll of fabric free from the pile.
“Look at you, doin’ big girl things,” Alfie calls from below. There’s an oddly proud yet affectionate twinkle in his eyes, which makes my heart somersault.
“Oh, shut it.” The roll of fabric tucked under my arm, I clamber down.
Alfie puts his arm around my waist once I’m in reach, holding me tight while guiding me down. ‘‘C’mon, nice and safe on the ground. Next time, I’ll go up. No negotiatin’.”
He continues to grumble under his breath about his leg and how he’s perfectly capable.
I giggle and pat his arm. “Okay, okay, no more ladders. Anyway, this is everything I need. If I start browsing, we’ll be here for quite some time.”
“Wouldn’t mind it.”
You say that now. Just you wait until I get going. You might regret it, love.
“But I want you to see more of my world.” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “My favourite bookshops are next, if you don’t mind.”
“Bookshop?” Alfie perks up.
“You like to read?”
“I do. Whenever I ain’t workin’, I’m down at Foyles. You ever been?”
“The one on Charing Cross Road?”
“Yeah, you know it?”
“I’ve been to London multiple times. ‘Course I know it. It’s one of my favourite spots in town.”
“We could spend a day there, if you fancy.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll show you my world. Not just me kingdom in Camden and Margate.”
I nod, abuzz with excitement. “I’d like that.”
Yay, a bookshop date!
“Good,” he purrs. “Good.”
While we wait as the fabric is being cut, I feel Alfie reaching for my hand again. Hesitantly, his fingers brush past mine, asking for permission. I wrap my fingers around his thumb, feeling like a silly girl yet indescribably pleased. After paying and receiving the plastic bag with the fabric, we step outside.
Me still holding his thumb.
“‘Appy?” Alfie asks once we step into the street.
“I am.”
“Good.”
“Right, now, let me check Maps to see how we need to get to ‘het Spui’.”
“That sounds funny.”
“What? Het Spui?”
“Yeah. What does it mean?”
“Ah dinnae ken.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I just know it’s where the Waterstones and American Book Centre are and that it’s close to Rokin.”
“You ‘ave Waterstones ‘ere?”
“We do, but only in Amsterdam.” I chuckle. “That’s another reason why I like England so much. There are Waterstoneses… Waterstone… multiple branches in one city.”
“Careful now. Don’t let the Irish hear ya.”
“Oi, no one does the book trade like the Irish. Although, I mean, Dublin is the best place bookshop-wise. The rest of the country does it, well, so so at best. Don’t tell them I said the English and Scots do it the best.”
“I won’t,” he muses. “Or else me and the London boys will take care of it.”
“There you go again, protecting me.”
“Because I’m fond on you.” I give him a quizzical look. Alfie squares his shoulders, each word perfectly clear and proud. “Yeah, you ‘eard me and I’ve no shame sayin’ it. I’m fond of ya, Y/N.’’
Regardless of it being nice to hear, the confession leaves me conflicted. I turn my face away from him, focusing on the road ahead. “Hm.”
You barely know me. We’re talking of me visiting you in England after only having met twice. Of dates like we’re a thing. I’m holding your hand like this because you make me happy, but I’m scared shitless at the same time.
Everything comes at a price and those who say they’ll stay or like you will end up leaving. People can’t be trusted, especially men.
Men like him, who come on strong to women half their age making promises of a rosy future. And if they’re handsome, it makes you question where the line is. Perhaps, this time it’s different. This time he’s serious.
Until you get to the part where you’re talked into sex, the only thing they’ve wanted from you all along. Afterwards, you’re either discarded or as a piece of meat to satisfy their urges.
Chris wasn’t like that.
Or perhaps he is and I simply never found out.
I suppose the walls I kept up left me too guarded, too blind to the possibilities with a wolf boy I used to call mine. Or maybe the solemn fort I have locked myself in has protected me from a gruesome yet sad truth.
Guess I’ll never find out.
Something squeezes the back of my neck.
My fingers hold air.
“… you, little dove?”
I frown, surprised to find ourselves on Rokin. It’s strange how your subconscious can be there and nowhere at the same time. How your body can move in a set direction while your mind wanders.
“Sorry, you were saying?” To hopefully add credit to my show of casualness, I look left and right to situate us.
“I wasn’t sayin’ anythin’. I was askin’ you where you were.”
“Just lost in thought.” I grab his thumb again and point across the street. “Right. We need to cross the road and take one of the side alleys.”
“Sure you were,” Alfie says, ignoring my directions and evidently not done with the topic. All the same, he lets me guide him. “Lyin’, right, ain’t proper. Now, then, tell me what funny thought you ‘ad.”
Halfway.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does!” Little specks of spittle fly through the air while some get stuck in his beard.
Safely across.
“It fuckin’ matters to me! Look at me. I said,” he grabs my face like he did earlier today when I don’t, coercing me into looking at him, “look at me. I, yeah, ‘ave been nothin’ but ‘onest with you. I care, right? I bloody care about you.”
“You’re only saying that.”
“Why would I, eh? Why would I?”
I pry myself loose, hardly finding any resistance as I wrap my fingers around his wrist and push him away. In hopes of concealing my shaking shoulders, trembling with hardly contained sobs, I try to keep my voice even. Nonetheless, I can’t prevent it from cracking with each word. “This is only a joke, innit? Just some charade to talk me into sex.”
Eyes wide with disbelief, he gawks at me. “You think that’s what this is?”
One step forward.
One step back.
“You fuckin’ think that?”
“A girl can’t be too careful around men, Alfie.”
“If I wanted sex, right, only sex, then tell me why I feel like this. Why, right now, it feels like me chest is being ripped open and me ticker pulled out of it, put right through the fuckin’ shredder. Why I feel like there’s a brick in me stomach and a ball of cotton in me throat each time you drift off or seem upset. Fuckin’ tell me!” His chest rises and falls in quick succession, nostrils flaring and panting plush lips parted. There’s a crack in his voice too when he continues. “Tell me because I don’t understand it.”
“You feel that way?’’ I sniffle, blinking away the tears obscuring my vision. ‘‘You’re not pulling my leg or anything?”
Give me one thing to believe. Prove to me I’m wrong, that it’s different this time. That this is real. Legit.
“Fuck, Y/N! I would never lie to you. I swear so on every holy book in this damned world.” He points at the bag in my hands, his rings reflecting the sunlight. “If you don’t believe me, smack me with that. If you do, come closer.”
I’m a little stupid.
So, after a moment of assessing him, I step forward.
And place my hands in his as he closes the distance.
“Can this old chap be really selfish?”
“Don’t cross the line.”
Alfie leans in, nudging my nose with his. Our lips brush past each other, his whiskers ticklish against mine. “Is this?”
“No.”
His lips are soft and tender, genuine in their affection. I answer the kiss in kind and cup his cheek, feeling how he leans into the touch. I clutch his shirt, holding on tight to the fabric with determined fists. A warm palm rests on the small of my back, pulling me further against him.
Further into our own world.
From which we have to retreat sooner than expected.
He’s the one to break away, to let the moment end with a shivery breath longing for more and a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’d never touch you, yeah, without your permission. I’ll wait till you’re ready, but know this ain’t about sex for me. I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t be a nice addition to what we ‘ave. But this, right ‘ere, us, it’s about you. That kiss? Because I like you. Fuckin’ ‘ell, that don’t even begin to describe it.”
“Same here.”
“Yeah, you like me too?”
I bite my lip and nod.
He lets out a pleased sound holding the middle between an amused chuckle and satisfied hum. “Glad to ‘ear it because I ‘ave plans for us. Speakin’ of which, I ‘ave one right now. One which involves you givin’ me one more?’’ He taps his slightly swollen lips. ‘‘For the road?”
“Sure,” I say, smiling into the gentle peck he steals.
“Can’t get too greedy.”
Fingers entwined, we leave the argument behind us and crack on with renewed vigour.
On to the next moment.
Since Alfie is more than familiar with Waterstones, I propose going to The American Book Centre first. I hear him take in a short sharp breath like he’s preparing himself for a difficult task before he makes to cross the plaza. Using my body, I gently redirect us to walk around it instead.
Brows knitted together, he looks down at me.
“The cobblestones,” I point to the side. “They’re uneven.”
He lightly squeezes my hand as he hums in gratitude.
We walk towards the bookshop, where Alfie holds the front door open for me. I shuffle through the small opening and he follows closely behind.
Before us is a big round open space lined with magazines. A man is leaving through a gardening-related one while a girl sits on the steps with the latest issue of a gossip one. On our left are tables and a small section with books related to tattoos and the art of tattooing. In front of us and to the right, next to the tills, are racks with stationary.
A soft groan falls from his lips when Alfie spots the big staircase leading to the first floor. Walking already takes a heavy toll on his leg, so I can only imagine the amount of pain he has to suffer through when climbing stairs. A stone sinks to the bottom of my stomach when I recall how he had to pay the price for straining himself too much yesterday.
And I refuse to put him through that again.
“There’s a lift.” I nod to the other side of the shop.
“Would you…” he begins, hesitant yet suggestive. Though I know little about him, I have noticed it’s difficult for him to admit his weaknesses.
“I’m claustrophobic, but I’ll brave it for you.”
He pets my hair and wraps his fingers around the back of my neck. “Attagirl.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding when we arrive on the first floor.
“Proud of ya,” Alfie murmurs into my hair, kissing the top of my head.
“I’m glad to be out in the open again, not gonna lie. Anyways, here we have fantasy, sci-fi, crime, thrillers, young adult and the romance section. Upstairs are the non-fiction, general fiction, spiritual, drama, poetry sections.” The mechanical whirring of a coffee grinder resonates loudly in the background. “Right, there’s also a wee café here.”
He looks around, leaning on his cane. “What do you like to read, darlin’?”
A warm fuzzy feeling spreads in my chest at his bright expression. It would seem we are both in our natural habitats, a place where our worlds overlap.
“Well, I’ve found myself drawn more towards general fiction since my studies. Even then, though, I still pick up canon literature. Call me a bloody classist, but they don’t write like the writers of old anymore.” I smile wistfully as we walk among the shelves and navigate among the other customers. “They don’t write letters either.”
“What did you study?”
“English literature with a particular interest in Irish lit.”
“What a surprise,” he chuckles.
“Oi, say what you will, but it’s hard for me to find anyone who writes like W.B. Yeats and James Joyce.”
“Favourite books?”
“A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and The Picture of Dorian Gray. Hands down the best. And my professor was right about the former. It was life-changing.” A wave of peace and contentment washes over me as I recall the feelings the novel instigated, my mind filled with the memories of the moments I could identify myself in Stephen Dedalus. “I finally felt understood. Found someone with the same vision. I felt… legit? No, that’s not the word. Ehm, what’s it called again when you feel like you finally matter? Are part of something?”
“Validated?”
“Yes! Validated. I felt validated. I should re-read it, actually.”
“Out of pleasure or,’’ his shoulders drop as he slows his pace, ‘‘a need to be accepted?”
“Both, perhaps,” I admit.
Because the world has little to no place for people like me. Not anymore.
“I see you.” We come to a halt at the end of the rampway. Alfie lets go of my hand to brush my cheek. “I am curious about your mind. Your vision. The artist within.”
“She’s a little twisted.”
“Likely less than me.”
“Read Acts of Desperation. I think it could enlighten you a little about how she thinks and feels.”
“Maybe I should pick it up then, eh, if we ‘appen to find it.”
We saunter back over to the grand staircase to check out the romance section. Usually I skip it, but occasionally I like to see what titles are currently being published and what type of stories publishers are apparently looking for.
“Anything you recommend?”
“Ollie would be havin’ a bubble if ‘e ‘eard this, but” Alfie sighs and bites his lip, “I like Jenny Colgan’s books.”
I blink, gobsmacked by his answer. “Jenny Colgan? Small town romances concerned with bakeries and bookshops Jenny Colgan?”
He shifts his weight, groaning in discomfort. “Don’t tell anyone, alright? It’s a guilty pleasure. A more innocent vice, basically. But otherwise I can recommend The Half Drowned King by Linnea Hartsuyker or The Last Kingdom by Bernard Cornwell. Recently I also picked up this book called River Kings. Can’t remember who wrote it. It tracks the heritage of a certain bead and shines a light on the Viking expeditions to the east.”
Unable to help myself, I clap my hands in excitement. “That one’s so good!”
“You read it?”
“Yeah, picked it up during my last trip to Ireland. In Cork. I normally don’t like non-fiction, but give me anything to do with Vikings and you make me one happy lass.” I calm down a bit and lead him back up the ramp forming the walkway between the sci-fi, horror, and fantasy sections. “I don’t really like fantasy. High fantasy, that is. Take Ben Aaronovitch’s books, for example. Those I like. In fact, I recommend them.”
Alfie scans the shelves, focusing in on the row with the author’s name. “Which one’s the first? Or are they standalones?”
“They’re a series of standalones connected by a red thread. The first is called Rivers of London.”
“This one, then.” He picks the title off of the shelf and fishes a pair of glasses from his backpack to read the backside. “Interesting. I’m also not one for fantasy, but I’ll admit this sounds good.”
Oh, come on. This ain’t fair. How? How does he look so fucking good in glasses?
Unashamed, I gawk at him. First a kiss and a somewhat love confession and now this is being thrown at me. I swear, if someone is going to pinch me and I jolt awake to find this was all a dream, I will go ballistic.
“What’re you lookin’ at?” He squints as he reads me, looking for an answer before I can give it.
“Your glasses.” I point at the thin golden frame on his nose. “I didn’t know you had them.”
“I’m far-sighted, so these readin’ glasses take the strain off me eyes. Also got a blue-light filter in ‘em.”
“Staring a lot at the screen, eh?”
“More than you think. When I’m not drawing, I have either a book or my e-reader in me ‘ands. There’s somethin’ about readin’ late into the night. The world’s silent. Even this fuckin’ city finally calms down a bit the same way London tends to go quiet at nightfall.”
“I really need to get back into reading. I mean, I keep buying books yet always end up never reading them. Or, rather, I end up reading a few. My bank account’s not happy.”
We head back to the lift, taking the walkway instead of the wee stairs to spare Alfie’s leg. While waiting, I grab his thumb, but evidently Alfie has other ideas and weaves his fingers through mine.
Inside the tiny cabin, he gives them an encouraging squeeze and another one when we step out onto the second floor.
As Alfie browses the history section, I explore the general fiction section. As per usual, I stop in my tracks to scan the shelves with the books which are on sale. After all, there could be an absolute steal among them. Furthermore, it seems I’m in luck because the three racks are well-stocked. Crouched in front of it, I pluck out a few titles to read their backsides and put a few aside to take with me.
“You know your account ain’t ‘appy with ya. Yet ‘ere you are, five books in your little hands,” a familiar raspy voice remarks, stern yet amused.
My heart somersaults into next week as my soul leaves my body. I scramble to my feet, jaw clenched and ears ablaze with shame. “They’re discounted.”
“I bet you say that every time you’re ‘ere.
I nuzzle into the scarf around my neck to hide my rosy cheeks. “Shut up.”
“C’mon, give me those.” He beckons for me to give him the books in my hands.
I take a step back. “No.”
He rests his hands on the silver wolf head handle of his cane. “At least four out of five will gather dust on your shelves. Said so yourself, didn’t ya? Go on. Pick one and put the rest back.”
“Hang on a minute.”
“I’m keeping your finances ‘ealthy, darlin’. One book. Pick wisely.”
“Alfie.” Sullen like a child denied a piece of candy, I pout.
“Don’t be silly.” He tilts my chin upwards, voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Wolfy knows best.”
“Why do you have to be right?” I turn away and crouch to do as he says.
After a while of making comparisons, asking myself how likely I’ll actually be to read it, and comparing prices, I pick Nightshade by Annalena McAfee. At this point you can almost call it typical how I find myself drawn to the tormented artist.
“This one.” I hold up the novel.
“Let me know whether it’s good. In fact, never ‘esitate to tell me ‘bout what you’re readin’. Don’t matter if it’s my taste or not.”
“The same goes for you.” I narrow my eyes as a thought pops up. “Hey, just as a question, considering what you told me. Did… You tattooed me without glasses.”
“I wore lenses that day. Tried them out, really. Optician said I technically don’t need ‘em, but I thought I’d give them a spin anyway. Don’t ya worry. I would never tattoo someone if I’m as blind as Sheishet.’’
“And?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “And what?”
“Do you prefer them? The lenses, I mean.”
Gods, he’s absolute hubby material.
“Would you?”
“No,” I shyly admit, sharing his taste.
“Good, ‘cause I don’t.” He smiles brightly. “So Wolfy will stick to glasses.”
We head downstairs to check out. As at Starbucks, it’s him who pays.
I try to get him to hand over his purchases - two books on Vikings in England - but fail. In Alfie’s words, I should think of my wallet rather than him. Also, ‘‘it ain’t proper for a woman to pay when she’s on a date with a gentleman, innit?’’
The attempt to tap my phone on the pin machine before he can with his card is as successful, kept back by the waist by a bear-like hand.
Purchases paid for, we head to the wee café upstairs. Alfie buys us two cappuccinos and a scone to share. Sighing in pure contentment, he plops down in the seat across from me. A dreamy look in his eyes, he gazes out through the window to the world below.
“Happy?”
“I am,” he mumbles. “A déja vu is a strange thing, innit? You’re in a moment that may or may not ‘ave ‘appened, maybe somethin’ you dreamt about in your sleep or in a daydream. Or it could be a moment your soul has lived, remembers, right, from a past life.”
“Did you have one just now?”
“I think I did… yeah.” He nods, slowly descending into one of the deep rabbit holes his thoughts create. “Wrong location, though. Different. Always different. Sometimes the same.”
“Can you recall anything else? Or, rather, do you have an inkling of what else goes on, went on, usually?”
“Always the same yet different,” he mumbles in response, cryptic.
I cut the scone in two and push the plate against his forearm to grab his attention. “Eat. If you don’t, I’ll eat the whole thing.”
“Crack on.” Features soft, he turns away from the window.
“I’m only joking. That focaccia wasn’t proper lunch. C’mon, dig in.”
“I’m not pullin’ your leg, Y/N. Eat.” He fishes his tablet from his backpack, ready to retreat in his own bubble again albeit with one foot across the border of reality.
To stay with me too.
My mouth dries up, throat constricted with his words. Alfie glances at me through his lashes, exhales, and reaches out to bring my fingers to his lips. The steam from our coffees is warm against my palm. “Don’t ya worry, I’ll eat tonight.”
“You’re beautiful,” I blurt out.
“What?”
“You don’t have to watch your figure.”
“Y/N…”
“You’re perfect as you are.” I sit up a bit to lean over the table and caress his cheek. “Scruffy wolf.”
“You forget, little darlin’, the old wolf is a king. That is, anywhere but when ‘e’s with the little dove.”
“What is he then?”
“A humble servant.” He nuzzles my palm. “A guard dog. Faithful.”
I retract my hand to take a sip of coffee. It’s warm, the milk feather soft and foamy.
A comfortable silence naturally descends between us. He draws while I look out the window, gazing into the distance.
If this is what living slow is like, there is no other type of life I’d want.
“Alfie, I’m scared,” I say after a while.
He looks up from his tablet, eyebrows raised. “Of what?”
“Of going home.’’ Biting my lip, I stare into my cappuccino. ‘‘Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want to?”
“No,” he sits back and shakes his head, “it ain’t.”
“I think my parents have figured out by now I’m not at the fabric market.”
“Would it help if I introduce myself to them?”
“You don’t have to. We haven’t known each other that long.”
“Afraid I won’t behave?” His eyes are alight with mischief as a cheeky grin slowly spreads on his lips.
“Hm, maybe a little bit.”
Besides, how am I gonna explain you, a forty-five year old tattoo artist? Although, rather, the question is how or whether I’ll be able to explain how happy you make me.
And convince them and myself both that this is real.
“Don’t worry, I will.” He runs his fingers through his beard, already cooking up a plan. “Gonna have to do somethin’ ‘bout this. Gotta present the perfect picture, ain’t I?”
“Don’t shave. I like your beard.” Though I have nothing against clean-shaven men, I have no shame in admitting I like them better when they have facial hair. Especially when it’s more than a little scruff.
The way Alfie does it.
“I think I’ll have to go short and go with a stubble. It’ll only be for a short while, Y/N. You’ll get your scruffy wolf back, don’t ya worry.”
“It’s fine as it is,’’ I say, making an effort to keep my voice low. ‘‘Looks great, in fact.”
He chuckles at my determination. “I’m not sure your parents would agree.”
“They wouldn’t if it was like this bushy, unkempt wizard beard.”
“So, the previous version. What I had in Birmingham.”
“What? No! That wasn’t a wizard beard.”
“It was kinda unkempt, though. Rushed to get to the studio and be on time for you.”
“It was fine. And you didn’t.”
Don’t start bootlicking. It’ll get you nowhere. ‘Sides, you’ve likely used that line before.
“I did. Well, not at first, since I didn’t know what kind of person I’d be dealin’ with. But,” his expression softens with warm tenderness, “that was before the wolf knew what the little dove was like.”
I tap the sides of my cup, head bowed to hide the way I still can’t fully trust him. That I’m conflicted by his words, kisses, and other gestures. “And now?”
Where is the line? Why can’t I stop awaiting the moment this will all fall apart?
“Now ‘e’s gonna sit back and draw ‘is little dove while she eats a scone and reads. Slow day, remember?”
“I do.” His expression falters, devoid of emotion as his eyes glaze over. “Alfie?”
After a moment of not getting a response and too desperate to think about proper manners, I snap my fingers. “Alfie? You with me?”
“Yeah… yeah, I am,” he drawls, slowly returning to wherever his mind wandered. “Just ‘ad another dèja vu.”
“Or low blood sugar.” I cut the scone in half. “Please eat. If not the whole thing, at least eat bloody half of it. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can find a good place for dinner, eh.”
He leans in to wedge the half between his teeth, a few crumbs crumbling down into his beard.
“Charming,” I snort. “By the way, just in case, you eat kosher, right?”
“Mhm,” Alfie answers, mouth full.
“Good to know.”
While he draws, I scour the Internet for a restaurant that offers food according to our dietary wishes. Although, I’m more critical about whether they have kosher food rather than plenty vegetarian or vegan options. After some thorough research and a quick glance at the menu, having decided to forego my own diet, I settle for Meat Me Kosher.
“Alfie?”
“Hm?” He briefly stops drawing to show he’s heard me. Without looking up from his tablet, he signals with his stylus he’s waiting for me to continue.
“Coffee.”
“Mh,” he hums, taking a moment to nip at the cappuccino that’s likely to have gone cold in the meantime. Or, with luck, it’s still lukewarm.
I pretend to divulge in the novel I bought and my half of the scone. However, in reality, I’m glad Alfie’s caught up in his own bubble because it gives me the opportunity to unashamedly watch him. Lips pursed or moving with inaudible words, he looks down at his tablet like the masters of old did at their canvases. The pencil glides over the screen, his thick fingers occasionally tapping it in annoyance when something isn’t as envisioned.
After a while, he lets out a deep sigh and puts his tablet into his bag again. In its stead, he pulls out the book I recommended him, puts it on the table, and takes another sip of his cappuccino. Immediately, he scowls. “Pizdets.”
“What?” Feigning innocence, I glance at him from over the edge of my book.
“Gone cold. Be right back.” He gets up, briefly places his hand on my head, and walks over to the counter to order a new cappuccino.
Looking like a satisfied bear, he returns a few moments later.
“Happy?”
“Almost.”
“Almost?” I repeat, incredulous.
What’s missing? Did I do anything wrong? Is there something I can do?
“Yeah,” he mumbles as he takes a sip. Humming in delight, chuffed with the warm drink, he sits down and reaches out. “Give me your ‘and.”
Wary of his intention, I slowly do as he says.
My breath hitches when his warm palm encloses my fingers and gives them a light squeeze. “Now I am.”
Albeit a bit clumsy, we continue to sit like that while we read, drink coffee, and, eventually, finish the scone.
Barely do we let go of each other, closely glued at the hip while we navigate Amsterdam. Even as we arrive at the restaurant, I’m still holding onto him.
Alfie appreciates I've chosen a kosher place, but something in the way he orders for us both and shares his food with me betrays his own thoughts. He basically feeds me the entire falafel table we have as a starter, barely touching it himself.
“‘Ere, try this,” he says, holding out his fork when our mains are served.
And again it trembles.
“Your hand’s shaking,” I remark, leaning in to snag the piece of pargiot off of it.
“Is it? ‘Aven’t noticed.”
“What’s eating at you?”
“Well, currently, you. You’re eatin’ off me fork, aren’t ya?” The feigned amusement fades when I give him a displeased look. He clears his throat and wipes his mouth on his napkin. “Right. First, yeah, let me say I appreciate it you goin’ out of your way for me. You truly didn’t ‘ave to pick a kosher place.”
“Course I did. Gotta take your diet into account. We’re out together. Can’t just pick any place without checking whether you’d be able to eat anything.”
“But you need to account for yourself too, Y/N. Do you ‘onestly like the food ‘ere? You weren’t so keen anymore when you saw the menu, were ya?”
“I normally eat vegetarian, true, but not out of any convictions. So, you know, every once in a while, I’ll gladly deviate. Besides, there are some tasty things on the menu I can eat. Sure, it’s only the starters, but, really, I don’t mind. Plus, this is some proper food.”
My words offer little comfort. Knuckles white with restrained violent sombreness, he clenches his cutlery. “Don’t put me before yourself.”
“Neither should you,” I say, calmly cutting the chicken leg on my plate.
But the act soon falls apart when he slams his fist on the table. A few people turn in their seats, curious about what is going on at our table. However, as at the convention, it only takes a deadly glare to make them mind their own business again.
Lips pulled into a straight line, Alfie turns his ice cold gaze to me. A shiver runs down my spine, triggering the fight or flight instinct. Nonetheless, I clench my jaw and make an effort to control my breathing. I have to stay put, to be brave. After all, he won’t hurt me.
I hope.
“Fignya! I will, whether you like it or not.”
Stop acting like you mean it. It feels good to be with you, but this won’t last. It isn’t real, despite what you said.
“What language is that?” Feigning ignorance, I take a sip from my ginger ale.
“‘Ow’d you mean?”
“That word before the statement with which, mind you, I strongly disagree.”
“Russian.’’ A faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he sits back. His rigid posture loosens as the tension leaves his body. ‘‘Thought I’d stir it up a bit and pose my clever little dove another challenge.”
“As if I’m that good at Yiddish.”
“You seem to understand me very well when I speak it, though. Don’t discredit yourself. You’re a smart woman.”
“I guess I’m posing you quite the challenge too.” Absent-mindedly, I tap the sides of my glass.
“Are you? I wasn’t aware of one.”
“Loving me. Or, rather, being with me like this when I keep having these nagging doubts I can’t seem to silence. I know what you said and I desperately want to believe you, but… you know… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m, yeah… sorry for being such a downer.”
“Oh, Y/N, no.” Alfie gets up, face pale with anguish and saunters over to crouch at my side. A grimace briefly flashes over his face when a fresh surge of pain rushes through his leg. “I’m ‘avin’ a wonderful time, for the first time in a very, very bloody long while. And I’d not want, right, to spend this time with anyone, any-fuckin’-one but you. I’ll put myself before you because I want to. Because if there’s one thing I can and want to do in this damned world, it’s to take care of you. I’m fond of you, my dear. Never doubt that.” He pokes my head, but the smile on his lips does not quite reach his eyes. “I’ll say it every time we meet. Fuck, I’ll tell you until the words finally register in that funny and pretty little ‘ead of yours. And even after it ‘as, I’ll tell ya.”
I lift one of his hands from my knee and place it against my cheek, hands wrapped around his wrist to keep it in place. The honesty in his voice isn’t a farce, too determined and true to be an act. It renders me silent, only capable of showing I am listening through gestures like this.
“This is real, yeah? You. Me. Us ‘ere. All real.” With gentle force he pulls me towards him, his nose giving mine an accidental nudge when we’re closer than he evidently planned. In his defence, he isn’t wearing glasses. “All real.”
“All real,” I repeat, blinking away the tears brimming on my lashes.
“Attagirl.”
During the rest of our dinner we talk about the small things like books we’ve read and places we’d like to visit one day. Alfie regales me with stories of his travels around the world, be it because of a guest spot or for leisure. One day, he hopes to travel to Japan.
Eventually, the conversation turns to conventions. After all, I have to know when the next time will be when we can meet.
“There’s a tattoo convention in Utrecht in October. Halloween weekend,” I say while a server clears our table and the wait for dessert begins.
“Too short notice. Got appointments, I think. Ollie knows for sure. Keeps my agenda.”
“Brussels in November?” There are no other ones I’ll be able to visit that still take place this year. The anticipation of a negative answer creates a heavy weight in my chest, slowly crushing my heart.
“Would you like me to?” His eyes glisten when I nod, frantic in my desperation. A slow lopsided smirk spreads on his lips. “Then I’ll make it ‘appen.”
Alfie is the one to pay the bill yet again, hijacking the server’s pin machine by playfully dismissing my debit card with a waving gesture. Afterwards, he helps me into my jacket before putting on his coat and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Holding my hand, we walk into the chill evening air to make the journey back to his hotel and the central station.
Along the way, he pulls out his Vape. Nevertheless, whereas he used it without care yesterday, he now thumbs the device and puts it away.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” I say, having noticed his hesitation.
“Nah, I think I should quit. Vices aren’t good, Y/N. They’ll only tear you asunder.”
The homebound journey comes to an end too soon for in about half an hour we’ve reached the imposing and elegant building of the hotel Alfie’s staying at.
“Well, I guess this is it.” We come to a halt in front of the stairs leading up to the entrance. I let go of his hand, turn, and look up at him. “Thank you for today. I had- I really had fun.”
For the first time in a very long while.
The last time was with a wolf boy at my side.
“Glad to ‘ear it.” He spreads his arms. “Can I get a ‘ug as a reward?”
I burrow into his coat as he wraps me up in his warm strong arms. For a few moments we remain like that, standing there yet adrift in our own world. An idyllic moment to cherish later.
Although reluctant, I eventually force myself to put some distance between us. Placing my hands on his chest to use as leverage, I gently slip from his grasp. If I don’t, I fear neither of us would ever leave. “I should go home.”
“Don’t.”
“Alfie, I don’t have any pyjamas or toothpaste or-’’
“No need to worry, darlin’. I think we can remedy that.”
He drags me along into the hotel lobby. My common sense urges me to resist, but the need for more time together and unwillingness to leave makes me pliable. Ready to give into our shared whim.
“Uhm, sir, I’m sorry, but no guests are allowed after ten o’clock,” the front desk worker says, standing up as she trails our movements towards the elevator.
“Guest?” Alfie stops in his tracks and turns towards the poor woman, who goes pale the moment his eyes centre on her. “She ain’t no guest. This ‘ere, yeah,” he points at me, half hidden behind him, “is my companion. Simply isn’t checked in, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem, innit?”
“Sir, I apologise-’’
I squeeze his hand when I feel the first trembles of rage coursing through his fingers. He briefly turns to me, his frown slightly softening when our eyes meet. “Breathe. I’ll go. You have my number.”
“No, you ain’t goin’ anywhere. It’s startin’ to get dark out and who knows what lurks in the shadows, eh? ‘Sides, I’m sure you’ll enjoy my little plan.”
“At least stay polite.”
“Fine.” He takes a deep breath and turns back towards the front desk. “Can I ‘ave a word with the manager?”
“Y- Yes, sir. I’ll- I’ll go get him.” Meek and hurried, she dials up her supervisor.
Without so much as a second thought, I squeeze his hand again and murmur words I hadn’t expected to use in relation to him. “Good boy.”
“Hm,” he returns the gesture, his voice lowered to a purr, “can be nice.”
A little while later, a man clad in a striped suit appears around the corner of the lobby.
“Evelien, is there a problem?” he asks in Dutch, glancing at the terrified woman. Her expression speaks volumes, so his attention automatically shifts to us.
“What ‘e ask?” Alfie leans in.
“Whether there’s a problem,” I translate.
“Mister Solomons,” the manager starts in what I can only describe as Dunglish. It’s occasionally duped Louis Van Gaal Engels, named after the terrible English spoken by one of our more famous soccer coaches. I’d argue Mark Rutte comes close to it too. Of course there are plenty others who sound and are as terrible at the language as them, but those two men take the crown when it comes to making my toes curl with cringe. “Is there a problem?”
Oh gods, please shut up.
“Yeah, there is,” Alfie grumbles. “Apparently, it’s not allowed to ‘ave my girl with me. Sure, she ain’t checked in, but there’s plenty space in my room. Now, she’s ‘ad a long day and it ain’t safe to send her back on ‘er own at this time of day. Considerin’ that, I offered she stay with me, yeah, because it ain’t safe to let a woman wander on ‘er own in the dark. Surely you understand.” He takes a few steps towards the manager, looming over him. “Right, little man?”
The manager opens and closes his mouth, chasing words that remain elusive. Eyes wide with panic, he awkwardly clears his throat. “Of- Of course, mister Solomons. She can stay. Would you, ah, do you need extra… towels?”
“Good man.” Alfie puts a hand on the manager’s shoulder. “I’m glad we see eye to eye.”
Leaving the question about the towels unanswered, he grabs my hand again and leads us to the elevator. I’ll be honest, despite my statement earlier today, I am unashamedly happy he has used his status to prolong our time together.
“Why were you bristlin’?” he asks when we are out of earshot of the now both very pale hotel employees.
“His English.” Alfie’s expression goes slack, eyebrows knitted together. “Not every Dutch person is great at English to the level they have an, I suppose, native-like accent like me. Most transfer the regular monotone Dutch speech pattern to their English, which makes it very flat. And I just can’t stand it.”
“Funny. You’re not even English and yet you react like you are.” He chuckles while we head to the elevator. “You’re a very strange woman.”
“You’re not the first to say that.”
“Oliver Cromwell.”
“Don’t mention that name,” I snap.
Alfie laughs at my outburst. “Are you sure you’re not Irish?”
The doors open and we get in. He pushes the button for his floor.
I lean against the wall, arms crossed. “Maybe in a past life. As you said yesterday, history has a funny way of repeating itself.”
“You think we met? Our past selves?”
“Who’s to say?” I avoid his gaze, trying to fathom who and what we could’ve been.
“Ir zent bakant far mir.”
Ik ben bekend voor je? What’s that in English again? Familiar! I’m familiar to you?
“In what sense?”
“I don’t know, darlin’.” The doors open and we step into the hallway. I match my pace to his as we make our way to his room. “Perhaps it doesn’t feel like it to you, but to me, right, it’s like I’ve known you for a long time.”
It’s starting to feel like that for me too. And I’m not sure yet I like it.
“I can’t say the same,” I say, entering the room as Alfie holds the door open. His gaze is cold, boring into my back. When I turn to him, leaning against the wall, his blue eyes have gone vacant and dull. Although, upon closer inspection, they rather seem haunted and hiding a grim pain he has carefully locked away. “Not yet, at least.”
“Right,” he murmurs. “I’ll run you a bath, yeah. It’s been a long day.”
“Alfie, don’t be like this.” I grab his wrist as he moves past me. “I just need more time. This is all new to me and I’m scared.”
He frees himself from my grip, mumbling to himself. “Eyn tog ir ken gedenken mir. Oder ir vet nit. Es tut nit enin enimor. Ir keynmol hobn fryer, azoy vos volt ir itst?”
He storms off to the bathroom. A few seconds later, I can hear the tap running.
A frog in my throat, I settle down on the edge of the bed. I hang my head and weave my fingers through my hair, quivering bottom lip caught between my teeth and my breath shallow.
One day I’ll… gedenken? In English, is that the same as remembering, remembrance? One day I can remember you? Or… Or not? It doesn’t something.
As for the last part, neither Dutch or my high school level German can help translate.
My vision becomes watery as his annoyed yet sombre words echo in my ears. We came this far. He’s got me in his room, the farce he put up broken the moment I don’t agree with him.
What the fuck am I doing? I already pissed him off. I should go. I’ll think of an excuse and shoot him a message. Yeah. Okay, gotta be fast.
I stand up and grab my bags. However, the second I turn towards the door, Alfie pops back into the room. Standing in the doorway, he takes me in. “What’re you doin’?”
An involuntary sob escapes me. Immediately he saunters over, a look of shock on his face when I take a step back. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”
Another step forward.
Another one back.
“Talk to-’’
“Step back.”
“What?”
“Step the fuck back,” I roar, on the verge of breaking down completely. He does as I say, hands held in the air in surrender. “And don’t follow me. Don’t try to stop me.”
But of course he does.
The idea was to walk around him with a bow and bolt out the door, take the stairs, run outside and straight to the station. Alfie, however, grabs me by the arm and pulls me flush against him, arms locking me in place. His heart is thundering in my ear, chest rising and falling quickly with the effort it takes to make me stop struggling.
“Calm- No- Calm- Y/N, calm down!” He caresses my hair, lips pressed to the top of my head and his voice stern yet worried and kind. “What was the plan, eh? You’ve gone fuckin’ mad if you think I’ll let you walk out that door without tellin’ me what the fuck you’re playin’ at. Tell me, yeah? Tell Papa Solomons what funny thin’ you were tryin’ to do.”
My breath tapers, knowing there’s no way out now. I swallow hard, hardly able to form coherent and audible sentences. “I- I’m- I thought you were mad at me.”
He presses another kiss on the crown of my head, softly swaying to help me calm down faster. “Why would you think that?”
“Because of what you just said. In Yiddish.” I inhale a shaky breath. “I-’’
“Oh, darlin’, if I were angry with you, I’d say it in a language you understand.”
“Better start learning Dutch, then.”
“I’ll tell you in English until I can. Even so,” he presses a kiss on my forehead and then tips my chin up so he can kiss away the stray tears rolling down my cheeks, “I promise I’ll never, yeah, never get angry with you.”
“So, what- what happened yesterday wasn’t- when I went to get coffee and after-’’
“No, I wasn’t angry with you. I was simply being a stupid old man ragin’ at life.” He tightens the embrace and cradles my head. “It wasn’t because of you.”
“Alfie, is it- No, never mind.”
It’s too early to say I love you.
“Nah, none of that.’’ He stops moving. ‘‘Tell me. What did ya wanna ask?”
“Nothing. Let’s leave it be. Thank you for running me a bath.” I wriggle out of his grip and rub his forearms lovingly. “I’ll go enjoy it.”
He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed and his hands on my waist. “If you need anythin’, just shout.”
“I will.”
He tentatively presses his lips against mine, shaking with the strain of not bursting out in a fit. However, it doesn’t feel like anger.
More like deep-seated sorrow.
“Don’t forget this.” He lets go of me to rummage in the closet, pulling out a white hoodie with his studio’s logo embroidered on the left side on the front. He turns it around so I can see the back, which depicts a fierce Fenrir devouring the sun. “I ‘aven’t worn it yet, so it’s still fresh. It might be a bit big, but it’ll keep you warm. There’s also an extra toothbrush on the sink, the blue one. You can use my toothpaste. Oh, there’s also micellar water. I use it for me skin, but it’s also good to remove makeup with I ‘eard.”
“It is. Thank you, Alfie.”
He looks at me and nods, a grateful grunt erupting from his throat. ‘‘Told ya I had a plan.’’
Hoodie draped over my arm, I head to the bathroom.
The bath water is the exact right temperature, hot yet not enough so to scorch your skin. Like our silences, it’s comfortable. I undress and hop into the lavendel-scented tub.
Submerged into the water up to my chin, I repeat the conversations we had today in my head. Because I’m still waiting for the catch. A sign this is either a cruel joke or a feverish dream.
Apparently, it’s not allowed to ‘ave my girl with me.
This is real, yeah? You. Me. Us ‘ere. All real.
If I wanted sex, right, only sex, then tell me why I feel like this. Why, right now, it feels like me chest is being ripped open and me ticker pulled out of it, put right through the fuckin’ shredder. Why I feel like there’s a brick in me stomach and a ball of cotton in me throat each time you drift off or seem upset. Fuckin’ tell me!
There truly was a crack in his voice.
Tell me because I don’t understand it.
“Me neither, Alfie,” I mumble to myself. “Me neither.”
I raise my leg to admire Anubis, the first god to grace my skin.
We created a bloody masterpiece, ‘aven’t we?
He sounded incredibly proud, not of himself but of us both. The same genuine delight I spotted in the various little smiles he tried to suppress.
When I climbed down the ladder. Put back the books. Drank coffee while he was drawing, half concealed by his tablet.
When we broke away after that first kiss.
The feeling of his beard is still vividly imprinted on my lips, which grow ticklish as soon as I trace them. My cheeks remember the warmth of his hands, a bit rough yet affectionate and secure.
I close my eyes, inhale deeply and let out the breath after holding it for a moment.
Maybe I should have a little faith. Take the gamble with you.
I wash my hair with his shampoo, rinse it out, dry off, and put on my improvised pyjamas. All the while, I can’t shake off the idea of taking a bath together.
I’d lean against his chest, sturdy yet grown soft and supple with neglected muscle. Our fingers would lazily fumble with each other, tracing shapes or the tattoos on our skin. He could dry me off and dress me after wrapping me up in a cocoon of towels. Maybe carry me to bed, curled up in his arms like a small child.
Back in the room, Alfie is leaning against the headboard and drawing on his tablet. His glasses balance on the bridge of his nose. He sits up when he hears me enter, trailing my movements as I do.
“I know, I know,” I flail my arms, clutching the hems of the sleeves to maintain my sweater paws, “it looks about as flattering as a sack.”
He puts his tablet on the bedside table and places his glasses on top of it. “Not at all. C’mere, let me look at ya.”
I approach his side of the bed, taking slow steps towards where he’s sitting. As soon as I’m in arm’s reach, he pulls me down on his lap. To not smack head-first into his face, I steady myself by grabbing his shoulders. Hands on my waist, he holds me in place. “Mhm. Yeah.”
“Alfie?” He tilts his head, his hands trailing lower to my thighs. A shiver runs down my spine when his rough calloused palms glide over my skin, culminating in the growing warmth between my legs. I run my fingers along his jaw and beard, scratching it in the way he likes and makes his expression go hazy with distant dreams. “Wolfy? Ah- hm~”
His lips crash into mine, feverish and hungry, as he grinds my hips on his. A pleasant dizziness sets in, created by the few seconds he allows me to draw breath and his unashamed desire. A faint throbbing and hardening sensation is tangible through the thick denim of his jeans, wanton and yet longing to be closer.
Alfie swipes his tongue over my lower lip and gives my nose a little nudge with his to ask permission for more.
And more I readily grant him because, like him, I’m also guilty of subjecting to greed. I suppose that even in our sins we are united.
The faint taste of the chocolates we had with our after dinner coffees mixed with his cologne and the underlying plea in his expression strangles each logical thought.
There’s only here, a safe haven without consequences or concerns.
Only us, two people who seem to have found one another after a long time apart.
I surrender to the guidance of his hands, steadily rocking my hips against his to further put my underwear to shame. The dominance of his tongue, finding no resistance as it explores my mouth. The rapacity in his curiosity, embodied in my secret pride in coaxing out the wolf within.
Alfie slips his hands beneath the hoodie, enveloping my bum and spreading the cheeks so I can feel him better. A sound in between a gasp and a moan spills from my lips when he presses himself against me, ready to take this further.
Beyond the boundaries of comfort.
And it frightens me.
Too fast. We’re going too fast.
Abruptly, I pull back. Alfie chases my lips, evidently far from done.
To show this is where I draw the line in the sand, I place my hands on his shoulders and push him back to create enough distance between us to speak. To hide the tremble in my fingers, I clutch the fabric of his shirt. A corset of guilt settles around my chest, growing tighter with each second and every word I try to utter without showing the cracks of fear. The disgust I feel towards myself, throwing myself at him like that because it makes part of me happy while my rationality keeps pointing out the likely longevity of our relationship.“Alfie, I- I’m sorry, but can- can we stop?”
I don’t want to seem easy.
I don’t want to be easy.
He grows still, his gaze still glazed over but slowly sharpening as the spell breaks for him too. Languidly he raises one of his hands, which hovers a few millimetres from my cheek. I wrap my fingers around his wrist and bring his palm to my face, placing a kiss on it before leaning into its warmth. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s okay. You ‘ave boundaries and that’s good. I’m proud of you for speakin’ up,” he purrs, voice gravelly and low. After a moment’s hesitation, Alfie rests his forehead against mine. “Can I at least see ‘ow our good pal Anubis is doin’?”
I nod and guide his hand to lift the hoodie just enough for the god to show in all its healed glory.
My breath catches in my throat as his fingers glide over my skin. “Good girl. Taken proper care of that, ain’t ya?” His gaze darts to my face when he feels me go rigid. ‘‘I apologise, I should’ve asked before touchin’ you. I know it ain’t a proper apology and I should’ve thought twice, perhaps three, fuck, five times before-’’
‘‘Alfie, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it,’’ I cut him off, saving him this time from breaking out into a ramble. “By the way, everything smells like dragon blood now.”
The careful smile I give him makes him relax, at least enough to join in on the joke and erase the grimace from his face. “The smell ain’t that bad, right?”
I shake my head, feeling rather silly like a little girl. Free of the burden on my shoulders now that the atmosphere has brightened.
“I’m gonna shower. Can I kiss you before I do?”
“Yeah.”
He hums and presses his lips to my forehead. “I won’t take long. Lie down and get cosy. Read a bit. If you want, you can also browse through my designs or use my tablet for YouTube or Netflix. The code is 1888.”
An involuntary yelp erupts from my throat as he flips us over. He pulls back the sheets so I can scramble beneath them after propping up his pillow. Honestly, I had expected him to simply drape the sheets over me, but Alfie properly tucks me in.
“Comfy?” Alfie runs a hand through my hair, tracing the length of a lock to my cheek. He cups it, tenderly brushing his thumb over the skin.
I nod, smiling contently.
“Good.”
He saunters to the bathroom, picking up a pair of sweats and a loose fitting shirt along the way. A few seconds later the sounds of Alfie undressing and the shower fill the otherwise quiet room. I put on my glasses and settle in with the novel I bought, enjoying the silence.
Which is soon broken by a symphony of hardly stifled groans and bitten-back curses.
Is he… no, surely it’s his leg. Then again, don’t be naive, you bloody idiot!
I hide behind my novel, my ears as hot as my cheeks.
Oh, Lord.
Though I stand by my decision to not have sex with him, I can’t suppress a smirk nor deny the prickle running down the back of my neck. After all, how many times will I get to enjoy the pleasure of hearing him like this?
Proud as a peacock, basking in the knowledge I’ve reduced him to this state, I put the novel to the side and lie down on the pillow to listen to the going-ons in the bathroom.
His breath grows shallow, the growls deeper and feral. My fantasy makes a run for it and imagines him here in bed, sweating while mindlessly rutting into me. How many rounds would it take before he’s run out of stamina or for his balls to be empty?
Sooner than I would’ve liked, a snarl followed by low murmurs betrays he’s finished. Then again, he did say he’d make it quick.
Did you think about me? What you would’ve done if we hadn’t stopped?
To keep up appearances, I pick my book up again, put my glasses on and read until he’s done. Fortunately, he falls for the false show of innocence. Either that or he’s too wrapped up in towelling his hair dry and moving to notice I’m not thinking clearly either.
A tad awkwardly he swaggers over to the bed, moving as if his clothes are in the way. I cross my legs, grateful the covers are there to conceal how his lumbering frame affects me.
“Why the grimace?” I tilt my head and try to keep my voice level, devoid of the amusement he unintentionally provided. Feigning ignorance is easy. It’s the maintaining of the act that’s the hardest part. But try I will.
“I-’’ He opens and closes his mouth as he scours his mind for an appropriate explanation. With a groan, Alfie lifts up the duvet and slides beneath it. “I’m not used to wearin’ pyjamas.”
Now it’s me who’s gobsmacked. I trail his movements, if only to hide the fact I have to let his confession sink in. Precarious information like that I need to register properly.
Because my mind can get terribly creative.
I scoot over to make room for him, still incapable of tearing my eyes away from him. “Uhm, I don’t know if this is appropriate of me to ask, but… do you sleep naked?”
“Yes, it’s how Yahweh means it to be.’’ Alfie lets out a content sigh, finally settled in a position in which neither his leg nor his body in general takes a toll on him. ‘‘The first ‘umans were naked. It’s our natural state, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate me goin’ commando. ‘Ence the bloody clothes.”
“If it’s really, you know… uncomfortable for you, you could, uhm, t- take them… off?”
“You’d run straight out that damned door if I did and I wouldn’t blame ya. And we can’t ‘ave that, can we? No, the clothes stay on. I can ‘andle it. Ain’t as bad as me health.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “Put the book away. Cute as you are with your glasses, it’s time to hit the ‘ay. I’m knackered.”
“I can leave only the reading lamp. I’m not tired yet.”
“No, darlin’, even big girls need sleep.” He props himself up on his elbow, plucks my book out of my hands, and reaches over to put it on the bedside table. Then he gently removes my glasses, folds them, and puts them atop the novel. “If I ever want you to do as I tell you, right, which, I know, isn’t very feminist of me, it’s now. Just this once, Y/N. Can you do that for me?”
Well, you also told me not to get a tattoo by Chester. Then again, I haven’t promised you I won’t.
I sigh, turn on my side, and shuffle closer to him. “Alright.”
Alfie pulls me flush against him, his chest seeming to radiate heat naturally. It’s exactly as I imagined it would feel beneath all the layers of clothing, beneath that white shirt back in Birmingham. Sturdy yet grown soft and supple with neglected muscle. Our legs entwine, the muscles in his thighs keeping mine firmly in place. I clutch his shirt like a koala, determined to hold on till sunrise.
One bear-like, no, wolf-like paw tucked beneath the pillow, he rubs my back with the other. All the while, he holds my gaze, looking at me with eyes as blue as Starry Night by van Gogh. It’s a shame he can’t see he’s the piece of art between us. I am merely the artist who can’t lay claim to him. “Nice, innit?”
Maybe not yet. One day. Until then, I have dreams in which I can confidently call you mine.
Involuntarily, I yawn. My eyelids grow heavy, the clutches of sleep slowly entangling my body. “Mhm.”
“I’d love to do this when you visit me.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good.” He kisses my forehead.
I raise my hand to run my fingers through his beard, still fascinated by the feeling of it as well as the intimacy. Although, it’s perhaps Alfie allowing it in general that’s most fascinating.
After a few moments, starting to lose the fight to stay awake, I let my hand rest on his neck. However, he puts it back on his beard, evidently having other ideas. “Didn’t say you could stop, did I?”
I let out a breathless laugh, too drowsy to make a louder sound. “Does it feel good?”
He closes his eyes, unconsciously guiding my fingertips to the spots that feel especially good. It could be because of the drowsiness, but his usual rumbles of delight have turned into the purrs like those of a very big pleased cat.
We continue to lie like that for a few more moments. Nevertheless, as soon as Alfie notices I’m losing what little momentum I already had, he takes my hand and places it on the side of his neck. “Go to sleep. Got a big day tomorrow.” He buries his nose in my hair, inhaling the scent. I don’t need to check to know he’s smiling. “Meetin’ the parents… fucking ‘ell.”
“Don’t have to,” I mumble.
“Ollie and Tom need to shut up. Maybe I should shoot them both.”
“No Timbuktu, Wolfy.”
“Right, no Timbuktu.” He leans in far enough for our noses to touch, places a peck on mine. “Geyn tsu shlofn, meyn mlkh. Deyn volf vet haltn ir zikher.”
A heaviness overtakes my body as I sink deeper into slumber, descending in the peaceful safety created by his arms and the knowledge there’s nothing to worry about for a few hours. Any problems created today will have to wait until tomorrow.
I remember dreaming of a Queen and a wolf sitting beneath a tree with nine branches spreading into the sky. They were looking out over a vast body of water, maybe a sea. And I’m fairly certain the wolf was keeping her safe.
I don’t know how long I slept when I wake up. Judging by the faint light falling in through the window, it’s still night or perhaps very early in the morning. We changed positions since we went to bed, me facing the window and Alfie firmly pressed against me, his chest rising and falling against my back and one arm draped over my waist to keep me close to him. I look over my shoulder, unable to suppress a smile at his calm expression which slowly etches itself out against the dusk.
He stirs, a grunt spilling from his lips as he rocks into me. Again I feel the same prodding sensation that woke me up.
Hang on.
Experimentally, I grind down on him, lip caught between my teeth to muffle the moan threatening to spill from the friction. The action gets rewarded with a warning snarl. Beneath the sheets, his hands grab my hips and squeeze them hard enough to cause bruises.
His cock twitches when I press myself against it again. For a moment the idea to wake Alfie up to lend him a helping hand passes through my head. However, my common sense gets the better of me. We both have boundaries. Now it’s my turn to respect them.
It’s better to leave things, us, as we are. I don’t want to give off mixed signals.
So, having had my extra bit of fun and enjoying the clear display of possession, I drift back to sleep.
Perhaps I don’t need dreams. I’m yours and you’re mine.
Strange how the expected can turn into the unexpected only to leave you filled with suffocating disappointment.
I roll over in the bed, but whereas I could snuggle into Alfie’s chest just a few hours ago, all I can seek warmth from is the cold and empty spot next to mine.
Maybe he’s just making a call or he’s downstairs in the gym.
It’s nonsense, absolute rubbish. Yet, I need something to contradict myself, the incessant voice in my head called ‘conscience’. To suppress the rapidly spreading bleak feeling, my instincts tuned into the situation and not tolerating any flight of fancy.
I slowly sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes, making a quick mental prayer to have him there when I open them. It’s pathetic, of course, to hope for such a thing despite the clear signs.
It’s only me, in an empty hotel room in Mokum.
Clenching the sheets, lips pressed firmly together, I blink away the watery world.
The lonely reality.
Don’t cry. You could’ve expected this. What were you doing anyway? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why do I have to be such a fucking idiot?
With tears still brimming on the edge of my lashes, I scan the room for any hints about Alfie’s whereabouts. Then again, how much can one find when there is no trace to be found?
His jacket, cane, phone, suitcase, backpack. Gone.
I check my phone, but the screen lights up with nothing but new notifications from online shopping apps. He also hasn’t left me a text or an Instagram message.
Well, at least he has Velvel with him. Or would he have dumped him somewhere? No, that doesn’t sound like Wolfy. He isn’t like that. He isn’t!
The thought of the poor little stuffie drowned in rubbish wrenches a violent sob from me.
At least you could’ve left him here, you bastard!
On the coffee table stands a tall white cup with a familiar holder around it. There seems to be something tucked underneath. Temporarily forgetting the plushie’s fate, I get up to get a closer look.
An envelope.
Inside is a letter, written in an elegant cursive reminiscent of the kind you find in really old vintage ones. I sniff at the cup and take a small sip of the, apparently, cold liquid inside.
Pumpkin spice.
How the hell did this get here?
Latte in hand, I sit down to read.
My dearest Y/N,
The coffee must’ve gone cold by the time you read this, but I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked too peaceful, like a little seraphim at rest. So I packed my stuff as quietly as I could so as not to disturb you. However, please do forgive me for this, I couldn’t help but murmur my goodbyes and kiss your forehead. You stirred, but I do hope I didn’t wake you up.
Yesterday, at the bookshop, you said that there are a lot of things people don’t do as they used to, especially writing letters. Yes, I heard you. This old man remains very good at paying attention, comes in handy when [crossed out text]. I could’ve sent you a message over Instagram, but I didn’t want to be that bloke. To be honest, you deserve better than that, love. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve written a letter so hopefully my handwriting is still legible in spite of the years.
And even though I’m not there when you read this, I can imagine you wonder how in the bloody hell I managed to get a piece of paper and an envelope. I kindly requested them from the staff at the front desk. No force was used, I promise. Only a bit of coercion and intimidation. Nonetheless, I hope you can envision my desperation to leave you a personal note.
By the way, don’t worry about check-out. You can do so whenever you’re ready to go home. Speaking of which, I regret I made you the promise of meeting your parents and not being able to follow up on it. Something happened in Camden which requires me to return to England at once. I would rather have stayed here with you and let Ollie handle it, but he’s not the person who should deal with it.
Velvel is sitting at my side and he isn’t happy to leave you, either. But I’ll make sure he becomes a hardy boy, a London wolf like your man.
We’ll miss you. Yet, we also know you’re a big girl who can save herself (even when I don’t like it, next time I’m going up the ladder).
Don’t cry for me, sweetheart. I hate myself for knowing you likely are, so let me make the promise I’ll never make you cry again. Now you have my word on paper, a powerful weapon to use against me any time. For you are the only woman, the only person, who this king bends his knee to.
(The good one, right knee)
And let me make another promise.
I, Alfred Josef Menahem Solomons Jr., swear to you, Y/N L/N, that I will return once winterfall has come. If I don’t, it’s better if you forget about me. What good is a man who can’t live up to his word?
Until then, I cherish the time we spent together. You made me feel like a free man, a man of flesh and blood. Alive, risen again like Lazarus.
I’ll keep you in my heart and hold the ghost of your hand until we meet again, my love. For you have been the last dream of my soul and I refuse to let it, YOU, go.
Your sincere and faithful servant,
Wolfy
I squint at the letter.
Winterfall? What and when is that? You’re not coming back, are you? This is just a pretty way for you to say goodbye.
There’s a postscript.
P.S: I’ve left you the drawing I worked on yesterday. Again, there was no force used to have it printed and delivered to you, my dear. I asked the staff very nicely to help me out. Let me know what you think of it. Or, even better, write to me. There’s an address on the back.
On the table is the referenced artwork, revealed from its hiding spot beneath Alfie’s letter.
It’s not precisely what I expected. In fact, it’s drawn in a style entirely different from his tattoos, a watercolour portrait rather than black ink sketch. The background is blurry, the colours in the scenery flowing over into each other. Only a window is clearly drawn, a black cat holding a cup of coffee staring out of it.
My eye falls on the title of the piece, written in a neat elegant surface in the corner.
Bast.
I turn the piece of paper around.
There’s an address in Margate.
The world can get incredibly loud once a lost soul returns. Its happy wanderings are drowned out by yelled concern, anxiety mixed with guilt having created a heavy shroud to wear.
But I keep his letter and drawing tight to my chest.
And lapse into silence.
47 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
aagart
AdnanAbi
princessaofthestars
Princessa of the Dark
dmcdposts
Untitled
paragonlust
― straining sex and jumping paw.
princessaofthestars
Princessa of the Dark