#I might even get back into animation I haven’t done that in YEARS!
Text
RFTS!AU AskBox #4
Me to @signed-sapphire for the legendary number of 50 Questions Galore they sent me:
Heads up though, you might notice there’s certain questions skipped. I’m either not able to answer some of the asks at all OR they’re either some art requests that I haven’t finished and will post in future posts. So I had to skip them for this post unfortunately…. I apologise as such. 😅
Anyways, let’s get speeding through them shall we?
1. How do you plan to show the songs?
It should be question 6 of this post here. :)
……
2. How many songs do you plan to have in RFTS?
4 or more. Depends on what I come up with.
……..
3. What ‘vibe’ would each song have?
Uhhhhhhh, idk tbh. I’m really just going with the flow of what this story brings me. You can’t wait to see what the RFTS!plot has in store? Yeah, me too.
……..
4. Who’s voicing Valentino and the main cast?
For Valentino, I’m not sure. I’m debating whether it should be younger Bambi or Ronno’s VA. But he basically has an actual kid’s voice this time rather than a deep-sounding one. (Because honestly, I found that a bit weird personally). For the the other characters, I don’t really mind the voices they have canonically.
And I think I’ve mentioned this before, but even though Sueño can’t speak, I could hear him singing this in this voice hypothetically.
………..
5. Write or draw any cute interaction between Ashueño!
Mk :3
………
6. I know Asha will have a different outfit by the end, but do you have different designs for anyone else?
Yeah, I do actually. Some characters have a different outfit to better reflect their current context. (Like how Sakina would have work clothes similar to Asha.) But I don’t want to reveal most of them at the moment since I would like to keep them a secret for now.
……
7. Some Gabo doodles, if you don’t mind. I rarely see the short king in any Wish Art.
Fiiiiine.
His design makes a lot more sense if you were me and you knew the context. Take this art with whatever theories you guys can throw at me 😂
…….
10. What made Amaya fall in love with Magnifico? What changed?
Amaya had a family who greatly discouraged her interest in studying magic and potions since it’s against what their family has done for generations. Meanwhile, Magnifico who was adopted as Rosas’ prince, is expected to learn magic but COULDN’T because he struggles to do so since he hasn’t moved on from his trauma.
When these guys were around 16-15 years old, they were mutual best friends. Mag offers Amaya to read from his magic books while he finds comfort in just having a genuine friend who doesn’t remind or push expectations onto him that he hears everyday in the castle. She’s like an escape from the stresses he has in there.
In their future years, Amaya grew to fall in love with someone who promised her the world if she only asked for it. She finds bits of herself in Mag, as both were people with crushed dreams that deserve better. (In their POV anyway.)
Falling in love was not at all what she expected since she used to believe sympathy would only hold her back from exploring the limits of magic. But you know, Amaya’s as much as a tragic character as Magnifico is.
…….
11. Who fell first and who fell harder between those two?
Is it possible to say that RFTS!Magnifico is both?
……..
12. Any fun fact about the Royal Couple? (You can tell who I’m most invested in. lol.)
The only reason Espino, the royal cat, is in the castle is because Amaya wanted him around. Otherwise, if it were up to Mag, that cat is out to the streets. He’s not very fond of animals and he considers them as pests.
Though, Espino gets small bonus points from Magnifico just because he keeps the castle clear from mice which he especially hates.
(Good to know you’re enjoying ‘Grand Despair’ while it lasts :)
……
13. This may be weird but…Body Swap! How would Hopes and Dreams react?
Asha would have zero idea how to get star magic under control. Meanwhile, Sueño finds an interesting realisation.
……..
14. What’s your favourite fanart piece of your AU?
I LOVE all of them so much!! They’re all made by very amazing artists!! I’m so happy to see these silly characters I’ve made be brought to life in someone else’s style. 💖💖
Mere words can’t express this joy enough. I hope you all would love the final chapters once they do come out as much as you loved seeing content of them now. X3
……..
15. Are you telling your story via writing or art of word dump?
I’m planning to share it in chapters like how Anny and everyone else has been doing. Plus some more sketches I would keep making of them obviously.
………
17. Draw Ashueño dressed as another Disney couple!
Hehehehehe guess whooo~ 🙃
………
19. Young!Sueño!
Which one? 🙃
Awww, good times back then when the little guy is still figuring out the forms he likes….
……
20. Young!Royal Couple!
Mini Magnifico would rather drown himself or drink snake venom than call Oliver his dad-
………
22. Give some more lore on Asha’s father. Are you keeping him as close to the source material as possible? Will we see him in flashbacks or something?
You’ll definitely get to see Tomás at certain points in the story. Either in the short prologue, mentions and flashbacks. He’s generally a friendly guy but at the same time, is also assertive to defend what he thinks is wrong. But even though his life was cut short, Tomás ended up inspiring more people than he thinks. Especially his old friend, Sabino, who hasn’t given another wish or attended any more wish ceremonies after his death.
I don’t think we really knew much about Asha’s father at all in the canon movie, but I’ll pretty much be close to what is depicted there already with some more detail on how he made an influence in the lives of those he loves.
………
23. Give Sueño a stuffed toy for him to cuddle with. He deserves it <3
He adores it so much 💖💖
……….
24. More lore about the Astral Realm!
Not all Wishing Stars have the strong desire to venture down into the human realm someday and that’s completely fine. They can still guide their wishmaker from above. But for those who do want to, they need to answer one important question first:
“Why do you grant wishes?”
Since they would be going down to earth by themselves ALONE with none of their elders to guide them this time, their answer to this question serves as their anchor in case they get lost or distracted. Answers do vary and some may be the same among stars, but that’s fine. As long as they’re sincere with all their core on their answer. Some examples may be: “I like to see them reach their very best and reap their deserved rewards.” Or “I like watching them journey and discover themselves.”
……….
25. SNEAK PEAKS!!
This scene is one of my dotpoints I came up with but I’m not so sure anymore if that would still fit in and whether I should scrap it. Regardless, I thought this would be a nice little thing to show you all. Proof that I’m indeed working on it 😅
(Actually, this sounds so cute to draw. Feel welcome to try and do so if you want to, my fellow artists ^^)
……
26. How does Magnifico’s magic work?
I made a whole post on this :3
………
27. Where did Amaya learn potions?
She’s self-taught mostly. But I also did mention that Mag generously lets her borrow what is meant to be his books of magic soooo, he played a role on that as well.
……
29. What’s Amaya’s opinion on the other Wish AU Mags?
I’m not exactly sure how different her opinions would be on each of them since I think we all decided to have our fun with Magnifico just being a shameless show-off and fun evil villain. I’ll try though.
Amaya would think KOW!Mag reminds her a lot of her own husband, also short-tempered and a disgustingly sweet romantic at times. She’s kind of a play-hard-to-get girl though 😂. One thing she does notice is that what WRTS!, Wish Granted! And KOW!Mag have in common is how loud they are with their ceremonies. Is that a universal Magnifico thing? Eh. There sure is a lot of interesting knowledge to learn from these universes. Hmmm.
TKoRaT!Maggy has that same pained look that falls on RFTS!Mag whenever he’s sulking by himself and needs time alone. Usually it’s because of his old village trauma. It’s an intriguing but ever so familiar cycle she recognises well.
Meanwhile. TFS!Mag is……different, she would say. Not exactly good different. I kinda imagine her eyeing this guy like a cat. This Mag just gives off a very different vibe of non-ruthlessness(?) that she’s not used to.
……..
30. Same for Mag, but vice versa.
RFTS!Mag gets very very very familiar vibes with KOW! And Wish Granted!Amaya. He finds it slightly amusing since it feels like his wife just became a part of some triplets. (He jokingly asked RFTS!Amaya if she had any sisters she never told him. The woman wasn’t amused. She doesn’t really like being reminded of her family.)
I’m sorry TKoRaT! And TFS!Amaya, but you’ve made the decision to adopt Asha as your daughter and so he thinks lower of you now. Although…the TKoRaT!couple might just get to redeem themselves for that since they sound interesting enough. They’re going to have the ditch the girl though at some point.
WRTS!Amaya just feels off. He doesn’t know what exactly though? Is he losing his mind or something? Ugh, I think he could use devouring another Wish Bubble just in case…
……..
31. You know what, for Asha and Sueño too!
Oh boy, here we go. 😂
Asha will NOT be able to handle Wish Granted!Star’s energy. It’s so different from the silent but still lively conversations she has with her Starboy. Star just can’t bring himself to stop talking, can he? 😅 Asha thinks WRTS!Aster and TKoRaT!Star are adorable. Cielo may be a bit much at times with his light teasing and flirting, but she’s aware he means well.
I could see Asha’s non-hesitant empathy, patience and genuine concern to Haedus would be a huge comfort for the poor guy. (Trust me, she’s done this plenty before.) She’s a bit surprised to see Naos and Nembus but I think they’d get along just fine. She’s pretty good with playing with kids from her experience with a mischievous Valentino. And lastly, KOW!Aster is a total sweetheart that she jokingly comments could rival Sueño’s. (That comment caught Sueño’s attention quickly lmao.)
MEANWHILE:
Sueño is more hesitant and unwilling at first to approach humans by his own accord. He’ll still keep a short distance buuuut… if they’re just another version of Asha, it can’t be that horrible, right?
KOW!Asha’s drawings are a familiar sight for him and he’s impressed that she could bring her own drawings to life. Same goes for WRTS!Asha with her magic wand. Maybe they’re friendly… Maybe they could both do that together :D He’s neutral with Wish Granted! And Aled’s Asha for now until he gets to know them better.
Sueño recognises that same shyness and timid nature in TKoRaT!Asha. (It’s weird how she does the same thing RFTS!Asha does of turning their head away and hiding behind their hair when he innocently just looks her way.)
And then there’s…….HER. TFS!Asha. Cielo talks about her a lot….😬. But you know, that girl scares him.
Unfortunately, Sueño is staying a relatively farther distance away from the last two Ashas I mentioned. Why? Idk, probably the fact that they’re the daughter of Mag and Amaya-
……….
32. *Gives Sueño an iPad with Duolingo on it* Here my child. Learn Spanish.
I have a feeling you did this so he could finally find out what his name, ‘Sueño’ translates into. Lol, nope. Not yet he’s not.
He still appreciates the gesture though, but the guy got distracted by the other cool features and apps this weird magical mirror-tablet thing(?) had and completely forgot all about the Owl app.
……
33. Will Asha ever attempt to learn Celestial? Maybe with a candle? Like Morse Code? Idk.
Idk. Speaking Celestial is really just stars exchanging screechy sound waves to each other telepathically like words, while their glowing sequences indicates the mood and tone of what they’re saying. Maybe if Asha comes to learn how to harness light magic on her own, she’ll be able to at least convey emotions such as happiness in it by controlling the brightness and duration of each flash.
…….
35. How are you planning out your story?
I usually think of what main message I’m trying to get across first and build the story around it. After some character and world-building stuff (that I keep adding to because procrastination), I put the key scenes I could think of in bullet-point format and then just think up some in-between scenes that could occur between those points.
Usually though, the most usual process is that a random concept/idea pops into my head and then I immediately type it down so I won’t forget it. It’s basically my thing now to organise the giant mess of reminders into comprehensive plot lines.
I’m not writing the story at this point. The story is choosing to expose itself to me XD
Another main thing I do is listen to my Spotify playlist of this AU, read the Wish Artbook, or rewatch a movie that has inspired the RFTS! plot in some way.
……..
36. Are there any kisses in your story?
Hmmmmm….. *glances at Ashueño and Amnifico*
Oh well, since you’ve asked me, I gueeeeess I’m unfortunately now going to have to remove all the kisses I had included since y’all are so desperate to know….. (/jk)
……..
38. Will the Royal Couple have villain transformations?
………..
39. What’s your take on the ‘eating wishes’ thing?
As I’ve mentioned in my last post on how the magic system works in the RFTS!AU, Magnifico eats wish essence to reverse the costly effects of using Curse Magic. To put it simply, he uses them to make him more mentally stable.
.,,,,,,,,
40. What Easter Eggs are you planning to put in your story?
Awwwww, where’s the fun in that? Find them yourselves >:)))
And who knows? Maybe certain fellow creators in the Wish Rewrite Fandom will make a reference in some of the chapters. Keep an eye out 😉
……..
42. What exactly does Asha’s job entail?
Being a king’s apprentice is a way to gain experience and learn how to use magic by the king himself, so you could use the attained knowledge as to however you want. Share the talent with Rosas or Go out into the world.
However, when Magnifico’s reign started, he forbade magic usage other than he and his wife with the claim that it’s for the greater good and safety for Rosas. (He kinda had a point since criminal activity and accidents did decrease in number after that rule.)
Since Mag doesn’t really need an apprentice, Asha is more of an assistant now, following in her dad’s footsteps before her. She’s tasked to do help with whatever Mag might need around his study such as keep the fire going or organise his papers. But Mag doesn’t really like having her around a lot, (since she asks a lot of questions about his wish-keeping system) so he purposefully tells her to go carry out outside tasks such as go into the garden and help the gardeners or something.
……..
43. Did Magnifico make Sueño’s bonds?
If I told you, would that make you more blood-thirsty enough to gather pitchforks and torches for his head? Because if you are, please don’t. I still need this guy to stir up conflict in my story :((
(You can have him all you want though once I’m done with him. Lmao.)
………
44. How was Rosas founded?
Nearly a century ago, the kingdom was first built. I’ve read in the Art book that Rosas was apparently named to reference ‘Beauty and the Beast.’
Like, ok….?
Anyways, I found that roses are meant to represent love, rebirth and beauty. So I decided to add more onto that than just have it as another reference. The kingdom’s founders wanted Rosas to be a place where people who are wary and feel outcasted by their homes can find and start a new beginning. To ‘Rebirth’ and have a second chance to find the ‘beauty and love’ in their lives again,
Blue and white were made the royal colours because the blue was meant to stand for trust and reliability and white for new beginnings. Symbolising the past kings and queens’ responsibility to have their talents in sorcery be used to serve the people who come here. Thus, Rosas’ citizens all are in a variety of different cultures.
……..
45. Over how many days does your story take?
I’m thinking within one month. It’s a race-against-time sort of thing where Asha needs to find out how to confront the Royal Couple before they do something horrible on Rosas’ celebration of its 100th anniversary, which is literally just a month away.
…….
46. What was your favourite part of Wish? Are you translating that to your AU?
I really really loved how Mag’s magic looked and how he went all evil-ish green as a tribute to past Disney villains. If we ignore the awkward transition he had from sympathetic to just plain psychotic, it’s a cool magic display. I kinda wished they went more full out on the final battle because it just felt so underwhelming asf.
I’m keeping the magical final battle but with more magical funsies. :D
…….
47. Least favourite part?
I’m frustrated how bland and empty the character interactions and emotional beats are since those kinds of moments are usually my favourite when it comes to movies.
Magnifico’s tragic loss of his village? “Pfft- What tragedy? We don’t need that in the movie’s 2nd half.”
Asha’s dead father? “Eh. We only needed him for a few mins and he’s non-existent from that point on.”
Valentino claims to be Asha’s helpful animal sidekick. “Did I mention I have a deep voice? Oh, and my butt’s a funny thing too. Did I already mention that my voice is loud and soooo deep??”
Simon’s betrayal? “Oh wow, that was a shock…. Anyways, wanna start a rebellion?”
OMG, Sakina’s wish is back!! “What was the wish about? Idk who cares.”
Asha’s friendship with Star doesn’t even feel that special to me?? GUYS, I felt more chemistry between Rapunzel and Pascal. COME ON, BUILD IT UP. DON’T JUST SAY ‘Awww, you and I are thinking the same thing~’ AND EXPECT ME TO BUY THAT.
……….
48. What’s your favourite aspect of the TFS!AU?
Idk why, but I like how there’s a unique twist in your AU on how Wishing Stars don’t have the best reputation to humans. It’s a nice subversion that makes it stand out a little more. :)) Because usually, the idea of wishing on stars is always seen as a positive thing but that’s not the case in this story. It’s intriguing to watch characters slowly realise that not everything is what it seems.
That, and the hilarious dynamic you’ve got going on between Cielo and Asha and how deep in denial they both are, even though it’s clear as day to the other TFS!cast. 😂
(Wouldn’t it be funny if TFS!Mag and Amaya also noticed? They may be going down a dark path but they’re not blind, girl.)
……..
50. What’s a boring fact about you?
Uhhhhhh…. I like organising stuff by colour for fun...? Like, I used to pour out a box of legos and sort through them as a kind of pastime. I still organise coloured pencils in rainbow order if I could too. 😅
………
@annymation @uva124 @your-ne1ghbor @ficsinhistory @rascalentertainments @gracebethartacc @spectator-zee
It’s a long read, but I think you guys would enjoy going through it regardless. I hope so anyways.
Btw, thx for all the fun questions Bo! 💖 Might post some more regarding your other doodle requests that I’ve put to the side for now if you don’t mind. :))
#ask#reach for the stars au#rfts au#wish au#wish rewrite#wish starboy#wish asha#wish reimagined#wish magnifico#wish amaya#star x asha#asha x star#ashueño#Spotify#magnifico x amaya#au lore#au dump
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Once I get a stylus and get back into digital art, y’all are done for. DONE FOR I say!
#it’s mainly gonna be fanart coz I have A Thing about sharing my original art online#cannot wait to draw the totally happy and healthy poly squads from Dracula!#can’t wait to every single discworld character written down you won’t stop me#can’t wait to draw every podcast character ever#I will FINALLY! FINALLY draw victoriocity fanart!#and for the amelia project and wooden overcoats and the hallowoods and—#I really wanna draw St Kilda art too but. I don’t have the clearest idea of how I see any of the characters#I’M SO GONNA DO JEKYLL AND HYDE.#and every single folktale I can remember#I will be so POWERFUL#I might even get back into animation I haven’t done that in YEARS!#if styluses didn’t cost the same amount as my groceries I’d already have one#cheapest I could find was like. £30? but I don’t trust anything that low (or at the least grocery-priced)#coz if it’s shit I’ve just wasted a week of food!#the best ones are like two MONTHS of groceries!#and uh. I gotta pay bills too. eat and pay bills#so if anyone has a suggestion on an affordable stylus lemme know#even though I KNOW nobody reads my notes or at least this far into them#if you do I’m sorry#and if I get a good pen I’ll draw you something anything you want#just for putting up with what is basically my diary
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Catch My Breath
The first kiss.
Set in Christmas Eve 2022, after the events of Call of Duty Modern Warfare II.
Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC), Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC)
Characters : Simon "Ghost" Riley, Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC), Captain John Price, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Eleanor "Ladybug" Graham (OC), Alejandro Vargas
Word Count : ~ 9600
Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol’ cursings.
Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Dont forget to come to cpt prices house today.’
You : ‘Of course not. I’m still at the orphanage for christmas gifts exchange. As soon as I'm done I'll be there :)’
Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Good’
Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Gaz is making some bangin biscuits and scones’
Jade smiled at her phone as she chatted with Soap. Her mouth already watering from imagining the taste of Gaz’s cooking on her tongue. According to Soap’s and Ladybug’s testimony, his chocolate biscuits were second to none.
You : ‘Wouldn't miss it even if I die.’
Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘Alright. See ya.’
She bit her lip. There's one more question she wanted to ask though. She contemplated asking Soap this or not.
Her thumbs moved across the screen slowly.
You : ‘Is Ghost coming?’
When Soap had invited her to the dinner five days prior, all Jade could think about was whether or not Ghost would be joining. Their one week together in Las Almas made her feel… something. Something really, really good. Something she hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. He earned a friend in Alejandro, Rudy, Soap, and Ghost, especially, whom she’d thought of as a real piece of work back in Verdansk. Oh, how foolish she was.
He was the best part about Las Almas.
Dammit. What was she thinking?!
By the end of Chicago, after they eliminated Hassan, Ghost and Jade had traded phone numbers. Jade had his numbers and named it “💀💢 Beanpole 💀💢”, after the nickname she gave to him before they knew each other’s name. They haven’t texted at all. Ghost wasn’t the kind to text first, that much was clear to everyone who knew him. And neither was Jade. In fact, she didn’t know what to text him first. A “hi”? A…
What else?
What do people text each other when they’re trying to get to know each other? She had no goddamn clue. Well, she knew what to text when she wanted to get intel from an unassuming target, but she didn’t want intel from Ghost.
She just wanted to know if he was okay, if he was fine, if the gash on his shoulder was healing well. Because of course, in her 29 years of life, a serious romance wasn’t a luxury that she could afford in her line of work in MI6. She took that lesson from her parents who literally had to ‘die’ first in order to even start. The point is, none of them texted first. They’re just another series of numbers in their contact list.
An animation of dots showed up, indicating that Soap was typing.
He’d typed for a few seconds before the animation stopped for a moment, and then started typing again. He must be changing his response.
Bulky McT 🧼 : ‘If there's food he should be there.’
Oh? ‘... should be there’. That meant Ghost was not with Soap at the moment, and he didn’t know whether or not Ghost would be coming along. A week in Las Almas was enough for Jade to know that Ghost had grown closer to Soap as a friend-brother figure. The fact that Soap might not know his whereabouts was not a surprise, though. He’s the Ghost after all.
But she couldn’t help but think, where was he?
What did Soap type?
“Chacha! Can you help me a bit here? We're about to start the event!”
Jade looked up from her phone, her ginger hair falling on her shoulders as she tucked her phone back in her pocket, swiftly walking over to one of her co-workers, Esther, an elderly soft-looking lady who volunteered for the orphanage - her former orphanage. This place held a lot of bittersweet memories, and it made her who she was.
Her legs brought her to one of the high ladders leaning onto one of the walls of the dining hall. She took many mistletoes from the decoration boxes and swiftly climbed the ladder, hanging the vegetation one by one with ease.
“Do we need this many mistletoes?” Jade asked while her hands worked. “At this point we’re gonna kiss someone by accident.”
“Of course not, what are you talkin’ about?!” Esther’s loud laugh almost broke Jade’s ears. “It’s Christmas, Chacha. The church had an overflow of mistletoes from the donations. If there's a day where we can add as many mistletoes as we can, it’s now. Let's call the kids over.”
“Alright. Let's start this shall we?”
—
The sound of Jade’s boots rang throughout the pavement as she hurried over to Price’s house. She travelled by public transportation from Surrey as she didn't have a car with her (plus she’s not much for driving safely - fake driving licence and… all that). She looked down at her watch to see 7 PM as the cold night finally settled. Each of her breaths turned to clouds in the air, shivering as she didn't have her outer jacket with her right now. She’s never one to be unprepared, but after one of the kids got too excited about getting a Lego toy and spilt a whole glass of apple juice onto her jacket, Jade had to fight through the cold with her trusty turtleneck and only one layer of thin knitted jacket as an outer, clutching the soaked coat close to her chest.
Finally, after what felt like an hour of walking, Jade reached the front of Price's house, immediately knocking on the wooden door three times. She looked up at the massive three-story building made out of bricks, that had a good space in the front yard. The building looked old like a family heirloom, but she could tell that it was pretty much taken care of. There’s a pair of trees that had shed all their leaves for the winter and had a decent amount of vegetation on either side of the doors.
Jade looked back at the front yard. There were three cars parked in front, and she assumed that one of them belonged to Price, the other two should belong to either Gaz’s, Soap’s, or Ghost’s.
The wooden door opened. She expected Price as the owner of the house to welcome her, instead, it was Eleanor, Gaz’s very own Ladybug who immediately screeched on top of her head. “JAAAADEEE!!! You’ve finally arrived!” The medic bursted out of the door hugging her figure so tight Jade might’ve folded. A beautiful burgundy sweater around a tan shirt wrapped her figure perfectly, and of course, with her wavy dirty blonde hair tied on the back with the ribbon Gaz gave her, worn out as it could be.
“Hey Lady! I miss you so much!!” The ginger greeted warmly all the while trying her best to stay balanced on her feet or else she’d fall five steps down to the ground on her back. As Lady pulled away, she gave room for Jade to step inside the warm house, taking a glance at Jade’s look.
“Whoa. You only wear two layers? You’re shivering!”
“Yeah. Apple juice all over my jacket, but don’t mind it.” She chuckled as she took off her jacket and coat to hang them on a standing coat hanger on the side of the door, “Have the others arrived?”
“You’re the last one. I came early with Kyle to bake the cookies and help Price with the food. Soap came second bringing sacks of snacks and drinks, and Ghost had just arrived before you, about 45 minutes ago.”
That caught Jade’s attention, her heart beat a little faster just at the mention of his name. “Just? Isn’t the Captain’s invitation at 5 PM?”
“Yeah. It looked like he was coming back from somewhere though.”
Somewhere?
Lady’s eyes half blinked, looking at her teasingly. “...Am I sensing something here?”
“What? No. No. It's just that he’s um… usually an on-time kind of man.” Jade tried her best to act indifferent, looking away from her to observe the doorway decorations.
“Oh really? I see, I see.” Ladybug nodded, “Because I might have heard some stuff from Kyle~”
Jade’s eyes opened wide at the statement, her mind already racing at the thought of what Gaz had said to his girlfriend. “What did he sa–”
“There’s me trusty Ginger!”
A voice which she could identify from a mile away as Soap’s, called to her. Donning the green military-issued sweater above his uniform, which he rolled to the elbow, he walked in both women’s directions with a chocolate biscuit in hand.
“Well hello there, Ocean Eyes.” Jade softly hugged Soap’s ever-bulky body while he patted her back several times. “How's your arm? Healing well?” She remembered how Soap got shot by Graves in Las Almas and how both of them, along with Ghost, had to survive the Shadow’s manhunt in the city. Even in Chicago he had to force through it.
“You’re one to talk. How's your side?” Soap pointed at her left side while munching through his biscuit.
“You got hit?! Where?!” Ladybug, who’d been in Urzikstan to help Farah and Alex for nearly a year after Barkov’s demise, hadn't been updated much about Las Almas. Looked like Gaz left that tiny little detail.
“She did get hit.”
“No! No no. I didn't get hit per se. We were… breaking into the Las Almas prison to free Alejandro and the Vaqueros - a little bullet missed my hip, but it did leave a teeny tiny graze.” Jade made a little gesture with her thumb and index fingers.
“It wasn't.” Soap retorted, which made Ladybug look even more concerned. “You almost fell from the prison walls during our escape and LT had to catch you and carry yo–”
“ANYWAY.” Jade tried to dismiss the conversation away from Ladybug’s growing unease. “It was quite literally us four against a thousand. So we had our own hits. It was a month ago, right? I literally walked my way here! See? Now. Where's the man of the house?”
“Thought you want to camp in that doorway.” Price's gravelly voice called from the living room, his head peaking out from one of the walls. “Come in and close that damned door will ya? The forecast said it’s going to rain snow unless you muppets want to shovel the snow.”
With Jade closing the door, they all walked together towards the interior of the house, where the warmth from the fireplace radiated throughout the room cozily. And holy shit. The word ‘family heirloom’ could perfectly describe the house. Some of the furniture looked like it was carved specifically for the house, soft carpets covered some parts of the wooden floor, and portraits of whom she assumed as the former Prices hung on the walls. The exterior of the house didn’t do the property justice at all. Soap had said that this was the Captain’s own house which he’d left mostly abandoned since he resided in Herefordshire. She wouldn’t lie, if Price turned out to be a secret old money she wouldn’t be surprised.
Jade’s eyes found Gaz at the kitchen island wearing the same exact outfit as Soap and Price, but with an apron around his waist while he pulled out another batch of chocolate cookies from the oven. Gaz noticed her presence when Ladybug approached him and pointed her way. “Oh, Jade! Come here and eat the salmon. You’re not allergic to fish aren’t you?” This sight of Gaz was pretty surprising for her. He seemed more cheerful and open around Ladybug, contrasting to his serious demeanour in the field. It was refreshing, to say the least.
Jade put down her bag on one of the sofas where Price sat on the edge of it, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands skilfully. “Nope, no allergies. Have all of you eaten yet? Sorry I’m late.”
“We have, and apparently my Ladybug over here is a vacuum cleaner of food.” Gaz was replied with an elbow to the rib by his partner.
Taking her own plate of baked salmon, Jade watched from just enough distance as Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ladybug played a game of poker on the desk. The atmosphere was tense from the rivalry but hearty at the same time, their laughs filled the room as Price caught Soap hiding a card on his sleeves, which resulted in a 50 push-up penalty for the Scot. Apart from the chaos, Jade couldn’t help but find herself trying to find that one particular big man.
The memories of sharing sleepless nights together on the rooftops of Fuerzas Especiales base rushed down her mind. Those moments made up the few moments of peace that they could muster up from the chaos of Las Almas. Just the both of them, the night sky, two cups of tea, and the lights from the city of souls. All those times they spent together completely with his mask on. Only when he decided to take off his mask in front of the 141 and Vaqueros did she ever see his face.
She’s good with faces. That’s an absolute requirement for her job. That image of his face was ingrained in her brain. How the black paints surrounded his surprisingly soft eyes, how the sun reflected his whiskey brown eyes and light eyelashes, the scars on his cheeks from wearing the mask, and his strong jaw.
Jade only wished she could enjoy the actual sight of it once more.
The former MI6 turned her head a number of times, making up blueprints of Price’s residency inside her mind. This house didn’t have a rooftop, and from the looks of it, all the bedrooms are located on the upper floors. Ghost likes looking out at the scenery, so he might’ve gone upstairs, broke into one of the many bedrooms and looked out on of the balconies as he sipped on a cup of tea. Considering how Ghost was, he’d break into his captain’s house without anyone knowing about it just fine.
All the while the others were playing, Jade finished her plate of grilled salmon and found her way towards the kitchen sink to wash the dishes. She came the latest, the least she could do was helping cleaning the kitchen area. That task came to a halt when her phone vibrated. She was confused at first, but when her eyes read ‘Col. Vargas 🤠’ on the screen, Jade immediately accepted the video call.
“Hola, Coronel! Como estas?”
“Hola, Compa! Muy bien, muy bien.” Alejandro's gravelly voice greeted her excitedly as his video showed on Jade’s screen. She could tell that the sun was still up in Mexico judging by the light on his face. He looks like he’s standing just outside his family’s house. Quite rare to see the colonel in other attire than his military ones, but as Jade saw his blue shirt tucked inside his blue jeans, she couldn’t help the snicker that came out of her mouth. She remembered that Alejandro had revealed to her privately that he had two beautiful daughters who lived in Mexico City with their maternal grandparents. “I’m in Mexico City with my family to celebrate Christmas. We’re about to head to church for the Christmas Eve sermon.” Alejandro continued in Spanish, but something caught his eye. “Wait, Jade. Where are you? Is that Soap?”
Jade lifted the phone above her head to help him see the place clearly, “Yes, that’s Soap, Captain Price, Gaz, and that’s Eleanor, Gaz’s girlfriend.” She said in his language. Her fingers pointed at each soldier as they slammed their cards on the table, chaos ensuing in the middle of them. “This is Captain Price's house in London. He invited us all for dinner, and now that it’s done, they’re playing poker, aggressively.”
Now it’s Alejandro’s turn to laugh. “I’m assuming they’re on their second bottle of whatever alcohol they’re consuming.”
“Yep. Looks like Captain Price is richer than he lets on. He has 4 bottles of wine from the 1800s! Can you believe it?!”
Jade and Alejandro continued their video call, sitting in her former position on the sofa. Despite Soap’s slight dislike that they were conversing in Spanish as he couldn’t understand what they were talking about, Jade kept on going. Jade learned that Rudy stayed in Las Almas to rebuild and restore the city after the Shadows wreaked havoc, encouraging Alejandro to leave the city and unite with his family.
“So. Onto the most important topic…” Alejandro’s voice sounded deeper and his eyebrows lifted. Jade had learned after a thrilling week working together that those were a sign that he was onto something cheeky. “Where’s the Ghost?”
Again, Jade’s heart beat faster at the mention of his name, and her stomach grew warmer. Damn it. “Um, I don’t know where he is. He is here somewhere in Price’s house, but… I haven’t seen him yet.”
“He’s there? Have you tried the rooftops?”
“This house doesn’t have a rooftop. It does have a lot of rooms with balconies, though. But I didn’t see any open window from the outside.” Her head started to look side to side, “ I don’t know if this house has a back or side entrance, he might be somewh– Alejandro!!” Jade stopped when she realized that Alejandro was laughing his belly off.
“You’re looking for him too, don’t you?” The colonel guffawed. “Aaah, You should’ve seen your face when you were explaining where he is to me.”
“That’s–”
“Look. I wished you luck with him back in Las Almas. It’s only natural that I asked for ‘updates’!”
“Keep fighting the good fight, hermano.”
“To the bitter end, my brother.”
Soap handshook the Mexican colonel and sergeant as they were about to leave Las Almas. He then turned around and tapped Ghost’s shoulders twice, heading towards the rear end of the aircraft to unite with Price and Gaz. The lieutenant though, stood still on the tarmac a few steps behind Jade.
“Good luck amigos y amiga.” Jade hugged Rudy warmly, tapping her back a few times before holding out her hand to handshake Alejandro.
Instead of a handshake, Jade saw a wide grin on Alejandro’s face and opened his arms wide, indicating that he was waiting for a hug as well. “Come here, Hermana!” Jade chuckled, expecting that a handshake wouldn’t be enough for the Mexican. She obliged by stepping forward and warped her arms around Alejandro’s figure.
What Jade didn’t see though, was how Ghost’s body tensed slightly behind her. Alejandro sneakily observed the man’s movement, looking visibly uncomfortable. No matter how skilled Ghost was at appearing as still as he could, Alejandro could see that this skill of his just disappeared when he was in Jade’s presence.
Before Alejandro let go, he lowered his voice and spoke to Jade’s ear. “Que te vaya bien con el fantasma.”
‘Good luck with the Ghost.’
Jade blushed profusely when she translated that sentence in her mind, stepping away from the hug to punch his shoulder lightly “ey!!” She looked over to his side, finding that Rodolfo was also grinning ear to ear.
“I mean it, Jade.” Alejandro spoke in Spanish, tilting his head as a sign that he was serious.
Jade’s head nodded in surrender a few times. As much as they wanted to converse more, her job wasn’t over yet. Her legs started to walk backwards, “Gracias, Alejandro, Rudy. Cuidate.”
Alejandro observed as she turned around, finding Ghost’s waiting figure right in front of her. She then tapped his chest plate once, jogging her way towards Price, Gaz, and Soap on the aircraft. That sight made the colonel scoff, glancing at Rudy, who looked as amused as he was.
Just as Ghost was about to turn around as well to join his teammates, Alejandro called to his name. “Ghost!”
The lieutenant turned around.
“No te pierdas carnal!”
“A huevo!”
“The both of you have forced me and Rudy to watch a telenovela the entire time! Please tell me that you’ve at least done something together after Chicago.”
“We traded numbers…” She said nervously.
“And then? Did he text first?”
Jade grimaced, expecting that Alejandro wouldn’t react well to her next response. “We… haven’t texted at all.”
“NO MAMEEESSS!!” Ale facepalmed on the video call like he just watched the Mexican national football team fail to score a goal in a World Cup match. “Ghost… I swear… you need to do better.”
Jade stood up and walked over to the kitchen aisle yet again and put her phone on a leaning position on the wall, hoping that Alejandro’s shout of despair didn’t reach the other soldiers. “Well– what if he doesn’t want to continue this… whatever’s going on between us?” she grabbed a white mug and a cocoa mix, putting in 3 spoons of the choco powder inside. “You’ve seen how he is. I don’t want to hope too much.” Jade confessed to the colonel, pouring hot water on the mug and stirring the contents with a spoon until the sweet aroma hit her nose.
“Oh you don’t know that yet, right?” Ale replied, “Do you want to have a relationship with him?”
A relationship with Ghost?
That sounded crazy to say, but if she's being honest with herself, yes. Yes, she did.
“Yeah…” She started to walk towards the hallway on the side of the kitchen with the warm mug. The walkway looked narrow and led to the rear side of the house. She guessed that if this conversation was prolonged, they were going to need a place where Soap wasn’t shouting his lungs off. Her green eyes looked to the end of the room, where a wooden door similar to the front door was present in front of her. A back door perhaps?
“Okay. Now one of you needs to start. Ghost clearly isn’t starting because he’s a stupid, bad man. But maybe you can convince him that you’re worth his time.”
Worth his time? “How?”
“Start by finding him.”
The former MI6 walked towards the back door and glanced over the glass parts where the outer side of the house was visible. Just then, she registered a man with a large frame, sitting on the stairs of the back porch. He wore the same attire as the rest of the SAS members - their military uniform covered with a military-issued sweater, and layered further with a familiar black jacket that she’d seen before in Chicago. The man had a mask over his head, but she could see that it was currently lifted up as he took a sip of what she assumed was bourbon.
That’s definitely Ghost.
“Jade? What happened?” Alejandro asked curiously as she stopped speaking earlier.
“I found him.” She muttered.
Alejandro’s lips curved, slowly forming a smile.
“The floor is yours, Jade.”
—
*5 hours earlier*
Johnny : 'LT. You’re coming, right?'
Ghost looked down at his phone, staring at the message that Johnny had sent him, not planning to text anything back.
He hated Christmas. No, he didn’t hate decors, the bright lights, the red, green, and white that coloured the streets and buildings around him. No, he’s not petty like that. He’s indifferent to it.
What he hated was how the month of December always reminded him of the darkest part of his life.
He lowered his phone and tucked it inside his pocket, going back to the sight of his family’s gravestones right in front of him. His mother, brother, sister-in-law, and nephew.
Ghost remembered the blood; the foul stench hitting his nose as he stood frozen, witnessing the lifeless bodies of his family – all surrounded by the colourful lights of red, green, and blue from the Christmas tree that they were decorating. If only he realized sooner that his enemies wouldn’t settle with torturing him. If only he wasn’t so naive and thought that his battles were done as soon as he was home. How wrong he was.
How fucking wrong he was.
Ghost’s tears had dried out a long time ago. Every Christmas Eve he always visited their graves. He’d cry for the first three years, but now he’d settle with staring at the stones, not a word coming out of his mouth. Just him, alone with that memory.
His phone vibrated again. Johnny’s still messaging him about the dinner at Price’s house. Ghost closed his eyes in annoyance and sighed, taking his phone and turning it on to find a few messages.
Johnny : ‘Captain said not to disturb you during Christmas week’
Johnny : ‘Idk what you’re doing now’
Johnny : ‘but I hope you’re enjoying yourself’
Ghost moved his thumb on the keyboard screen, wanting to text Johnny that he was not coming and to stop messaging him.
Johnny : ‘Also’
Johnny : ‘Jade’s coming’
His thumb paused right above the send key.
Fuck.
Why did his heart beat faster suddenly? What was this warmth in his stomach? His memories of his family’s death disappeared, and suddenly all the moments with Jade came down rushing through his mind.
The moment when they met – where they shot at each other in Verdansk, leaving a permanent mark on his left ear – The sleepless nights in Las Almas, the meaningless conversations, their moments in battle together. How beautiful she was when she kept her calm during pressing and stressful situations, the grace in her movements…
Fuck.
Fucking hell.
Ghost had read Price’s invitation two weeks before in their group chat. He already made up his mind from the beginning that he wasn’t coming. He never really enjoyed parties or any form of gathering at all. That’s how he’d been living for three decades of his life. Why did that one mention of her name from Johnny instantly change his resolve just like that?
He didn’t reply to Johnny at all, only leaving the two blue check marks indicating that he’d read Johnny’s messages.
And that… was how Ghost ended up sitting on Price’s back porch. The crescent moon was high in the sky. Little bits of snow started to fall down alongside the windy weather. For the first time of the day, he had his skull-painted balaclava up to his nose in order to take a sip from his glass of bourbon.
When he had arrived at Price’s front yard with his sedan, Ghost saw the amused surprise in Price, Gaz, and Lady’s faces, but he also took a glimpse of Johnny’s smirk on his lips. The sergeant now knew the way to his heart, and it infuriated him. God damn him.
The sun was already long gone by that time, and he could see that the others were already in the midst of eating their dinner.
He’d sneakily taken a glance around Price’s luxurious house.
No Jade yet.
Ghost had conversed for a while with Price, took his own plate of baked salmon, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and excused himself to the back door. For an hour and a half, he sat right there, slowly sipping on his alcohol. Just as he thought that she wasn’t coming and that Johnny had lied to him, the wooden door behind his back opened.
He turned around and found the woman herself.
Jade.
Her ginger hair was braided like usual, but stopped on the back of her head, letting the long hair run freely down her back and shoulders. The deep red turtleneck which usually looked out of place in warm weather such as Las Almas currently fitted perfectly on her figure. A green pair of wide pants hung from her hip, letting the fabric run freely downwards instead of wrapping around her legs like the jeans he’s used to seeing her wearing during their mission together.
Ghost caught her green eyes, reflected by the moonlight, and he could easily tell that she wore some sort of makeup. What the name was he couldn’t bother to remember, but she looked… beautiful.
His heart was already beating pretty fast from the alcohol, but now it’s going even faster, and don’t even start about the butterflies that were flying rampant inside his stomach right now.
She only stared at him, her breaths turning to cloud along with the vapour from the cocoa mug she was holding. For a few seconds, they stayed like that, until Jade finally started.
“Why aren't you inside? It's cold.”
Can you miss someone’s voice? Apparently you can, judging by the unexplainable sense of relief that washed over him after he heard her voice. The last time he heard her voice was back in Chicago, a month ago. He then turned around again, facing Price's plain backyard to try hiding any signs from his exposed mouth that she might read. The former MI6 had this scary skill to read every body language of any person. Sure, he had a mask up to his nose, but he wouldn’t take any chances.
“I don't like parties.” He replied.
“It's cold.”
“Better than whatever's going inside. And I have my friend right here to keep me warm.” He slightly lifted the bourbon glass, shaking it slightly to make the content swirl.
Jade hummed. She observed his glass and noticed the alcohol. For all their nights in Las Almas, Ghost always drank tea, never alcohol. Of course, they were in active duty, so drinking liquor could cost them so much, but he'd said himself that he pretty rarely drinks, since Ghost had confessed that he liked being in control of what he did. She wondered why he was drinking, but she let it go. Instead, Jade stepped two stairs down, and sat beside Ghost’s left, drinking her own cup of hot chocolate.
“Why are you here?” Now it's Ghost’s turn to start.
She wondered how to answer that. If she's being honest, the answer would be ‘to be with you’, but she deleted that response in her mind.
“I… don't really like parties.”
“…You don't look the type.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘my’ type?”
Ghost took another sip from the glass, “Likes being around people. Gets your energy from a communal space.”
The former MI6 scoffed. “Fooled you right there. Maybe it’s just me, but being around people automatically sets me in observation mode. Don’t get me wrong, I like people. It’s just tiring.”
“Hm.”
Another few seconds of silence, before she continued. “What about you? Why are you here?”
“Gets noisy inside, especially if Johnny's starting to lose his grip on reality.” Ghost immediately answered, almost like he expected Jade to ask him that. “He’s a screamer.”
“Hey how's your graze wound? It's healing well right?
Jade suddenly asked, which surprised Ghost. He glanced at Jade, finding the woman herself looking straight into his brown eyes. He should admit, her face so close to his caught him off-guard, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding, creating a cloud in the air. Ghost then took a sip from his glass again before answering. “Yeah. I changed the dressing every once in a while. It's just a scab now. “ To be honest, he kind of forgot about the wound on his right shoulder. It was disgustingly painful during their time in Las Almas and Chicago considering how he must carry the chestplate and his gears on that shoulder. The memory of Jade tending to that wound of his at the safehouse came rushing down his brain.
“Okay, that's a relief then. Just make sure you don't scratch it or it'll open again.”
“I know the drill, Midget, I’m not a kid. This isn't my first rodeo. What about you?”
“Wh-what about me?”
“Your hip.”
The former MI6 sucked both of her lips between her teeth. “It’s fine.”
“Fine how?”
Jade now looked at Ghost’s brown eyes, intensely gazing at her own. He wasn’t taking ‘It’s fine’ as an answer. He was always an intense person. She suddenly remembered the feeling of being safe in his hands when he carried her towards the van, arms under her shoulder and knees when she couldn’t bear the pain in her hip any longer.
How Ghost had slept the whole night, in a sitting position on a chair beside her bed in the safehouse with his mask on, staying right by her side.
“Oi. Midget. I’m asking you.”
That snapped her out of her thoughts. “Huh? Yeah! It’s a bit itchy at times, but I can manage. It’s healing well.”
That answer seemed to finally satisfy him. “Hm.”
Jade went back to her hot chocolate, but Ghost didn’t leave her. He could see her shivering a little bit in the cold. The tip of her nose and ears had turned rosy.
“You cold?”
“Hm? No! No, not at all. Why?"
“You're shivering. And where's your jacket? A single layer of sweater won't help with this fucking weather.”
“Well– About that. I was at the orphanage for Christmas gift trading earlier before coming here. One of the kids got… too excited and spilt apple juice all over my jacket, so I had to take it off.” She admitted.
“What, you're gonna freeze yourself to death here? It's 1 degree out.”
“I don't want to be insiiiide.” Jade whined, almost childish. A sight Ghost would never admit he found cute.
“Your survival instincts are out of the damn window. I thought you were a seasoned MI6 black agent.” Somehow he found more ways to ridicule her.
The ginger scowled, pouting her lips before standing up “…Whatever, I'm going inside”
“Fuckin’ hell– stay. Stay here. Sit back down.” Ghost’s swift hand grabbed her forearm a bit too harshly, prompting her to balance her hand as a drop of her hot chocolate spilt out to the white snow below.
“Why? You want me to freeze to death?” Regardless, she sat back down, closer to his body now.
“You're the only company I've got that isn't annoying. So stay here.” Ghost unexpectedly moved his arms to take off his black jacket, revealing his green sweater underneath, and much to Jade’s surprise, his arms loomed over her and rested the dark clothing around her shoulders. Her bewilderment failed to hide itself when his hand patted her shoulder a couple of times to set it in place. “There. Better?”
Wow. It’s… warm. And most importantly, It’s his warmth.
One of her hands left the warm mug, softly tracing her fingers along the hem of the jacket to tuck it closer to her chest. “...Better.”
Shit. Ghost didn’t know the sight of Jade beneath his jacket would create more butterflies to fly like bees inside his stomach. In an attempt to suppress it, he sighed, leaning back and closed his eyes to take a deep breath.
…before he opened his eyes, finding a mistletoe hanging right above them, placed neatly. And purposefully. It’s like a damned grenade trap. “…Fuckin’ hell…”
“STOP SWEARING!!” Jade exclaimed, annoyed at his shortage of vocabulary. “You've said those words twice in the same mi– What are you looking at…?” Jade looked at Ghost, who was leaning back while his head hung backwards on his neck.
She looked up as well, finding the mistletoe that made him swear. “…oh, blimey.” There was not a single Christmas decoration on the back side of the house but this one. Price was a person who had a high attention to detail, but Christmas decoration was not one of them. Heck, he barely decorated the house at all. That thing was hung far too strategically.
Both Ghost and Jade were thinking of the same thing.
Soap.
Ghost sighed, “Just ignore it.”
“But it's bad luck though.” Jade thoughtlessly said.
“You don't really believe that, do you.”
“Well I don't! It's hanging vegetation. Still, I'm saying it could be true.” Her hands gestured at the mistletoe above her.
“What, you want a kiss?”
The woman gasped, almost offendedly. “HUH? KISS YOU??”
“Who else is underneath this fucking mistletoe?”
She joked, trying desperately to hide her panic at the thought of kissing him. “A ghost.”
“Fucking funny. Also what's with you? It's just one kiss.”
Jade stopped speaking. Her eyes widened as she pursed her lips. “Um…. I just don't…”
Confusion fell down Ghost’s half-masked expression, quickly reading her reaction, until he got to the conclusion. “...Don't fucking tell me you haven't had your first kiss yet.”
When he saw how Jade couldn’t respond anymore, Ghost pinched his forehead.“Bloody hell... Then why did you say you want it?!”
“I NEVER SAID I WANT IT??? I just said that the bad luck thingy could be true!”
“Well fuck us for five hundred years then!”
“DAMMIT– OKAY!! KISS ME!”
Those words perplexed him, not realizing that he was practically glaring at her that his eyes might come out of its socket. The ever-present black paint around his eyes didn’t help to ease the tension either. Jade herself didn’t know which thunder slapped her that she said those words. She wasn’t the kind of person to just spout things without thinking of the consequences first.
Ghost observed Jade’s face, trying to read her expression, to see whether or not she was joking or serious. Because in the deepest part of his heart, he’d hoped that she was joking. But even deeper, he hoped that she wasn’t. “…you don't mean that.”
Jade wondered if her mouth had disconnected from her brain. What she was saying came out literally the opposite of what her instincts were. “You heard me. You can kiss me. Just a peck though.” What was she thinking? This was NOT what she wanted to say. Or was it? “How many women have you kissed?” Aaand now she’s prying onto his past? Great job, Jade.
He used to be young, that’s for sure. Despite his father and brother mocking him and his mother for it, he used to go to school and met a few women during his learning days. Only two of them, though, and that was all before he got into military. He didn’t know what commitment was back in the day, and his ‘girlfriends’ didn’t know that either. “...a few.”
“Were they experienced?”
“Probably so.”
Okay, so he had some experience. That somehow made her feel easy. “Well… I have zero experience on the act. So… be gentle, okay?”
“…Fine.“ Ghost breathed as he put down his almost-empty glass on the stone staircase behind him, finding Jade doing the same.
The coldness of the wind prickled her skin, making her realize that this was not a dream. He’s about to kiss her, and it’s from a mistletoe. Out of nowhere, she remembered the overflow of mistletoe that the orphanage received earlier. Could that be a sign? Either way, she snapped back to her current state, where Ghost was visibly looking at her lips, and that sight made her heart drum twice the speed. At this point, she might explode. “Okay. So… what do I do? Do I tilt my head a little, or do I open my lips just a little bit? Should I lean in to kiss you too? Or like–”
“Just. Stay. Still.” Ghost shut her up before she could blabber more.
“Okay okay okay”.
Jade watched Ghost secure his mask up to his nose, revealing his mouth. When she glanced at his lips, Jade could see a tinge of red on his cheek, but she could dismiss that as a reaction to the cold or from the alcohol he was drinking. When he leaned in slowly, Jade could see him so close, the closest he's ever been to her. His eyelashes were longer than she's ever realised, fluttering against his skin, the little healed scars on his face–
Jade sucked her lips into her teeth, "WAIT WAIT WAIT." Making the man flinch and pull away in confusion.
"What?! Do you wanna do this or not?!" Ghost exclaimed.
"I do, I do! It's my first time! Just–”
“I said all you need to do is stay. Still.”
“I've never done this before, literally! I'm 29 and I've never kissed someone!”
Ghost fell silent as Jade hid her face on her palm.
“…I have never fallen for anyone before.” She confessed. “I wanted my first kiss to be with the one and only, and now… “ Her hands wildly gestured to the mistletoe above them, “someone happened to put a mistletoe right above us.”
Jade was a lot of things. A formidable fighter, a dependable ally, a brave operator who’d jump from a cliff with you, a spawn of the devil herself when she does her thing. However, at that moment, Ghost didn’t see any of those at all. All she saw was a vulnerable woman, curled up in a ball because she couldn’t fathom the concept of a single kiss.
After a few moments of him letting her collect her thoughts, Ghost muttered, “…Jade, if you're not ready, then we can just pretend that it doesn't exist. You don't have to.”
“You know what?” She tapped both of her knees with a considerable force, like she just made up her mind about something. “I gotta start somewhere right? Besides, when I finally kiss my man, I need to work on my kissing game.”
Ghost couldn’t help the scoff out his mouth. And… ‘her man’, huh? That could be a dream. “'Kissing game'?”
“Yes! Gotta…know what it feels like, at least?”
Ghost observed her expressions yet again. The woman in front of her was looking at him like she’s about to surrender her life to his hands. What, was he about to shoot an apple above her head? To him this was just a kiss after all.
Or was it?
Jade wasn’t his girlfriends during his younger days. She’s an extraordinary woman like no other.
“…Okay. Look. We're gonna do this slowly. I will do all the work while you can just stay there. Does that work with you?” Ghost started, looking at Jade in the eyes.
She put on the bravest face she could muster up and proceeded with a nod.
“Say it.” The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine, because of course, it wasn’t enough for him.
“Okay, Ghost.”
“Good. Close your eyes, Jade. Just calm down. Trust me.
As she closed her eyes, she breathed the cold winter air deeply before letting them out. Now that her vision was no more, her other senses had heightened. The sharp cold air stabbing her skin, the faint sounds of Alejandro's guitar playing from inside of the house, the smell of hot cocoa on her hands, the faint scent of something that could only come from Ghost's jacket wrapped around her shoulders.
For a good amount of time, she didn't feel anything other than her surroundings. Jade was expecting something on her lips. Anything from the man that was sitting right in front of her, but none came. She was about to open her eyes and call his name, until something touched her chin, lightly lifting her head to face upwards. And just then, Jade finally felt a soft, tender kiss on her forehead. His lips stayed there only for a second before they parted with her skin, yet it felt like she longed for it for more than eternity. No one has ever laid their lips on her skin before. No one.
What she was expecting was something on her lips, not her forehead, so when Jade was about to open her eyelids, again, he stopped her by putting his fingers on her left cheek, tenderly sliding them from her rosy cheek to the back of her ear, taking the stray strands of her red hair with them. The hands that killed, that murdered many so more could live, were gingerly touching her face with an unexpected amount of softness. She didn’t know his hands were capable of doing such delicate movements, and neither did he.
Before she could register what was happening, she felt him getting close again, and for the second time, her expectation betrayed her when Ghost kissed her cheek, just right under her eye. The kiss lasted longer than the one on her forehead, yet Jade couldn’t find any reason to complain. If anything, she wanted his lips to stay on her cheek longer than that. To feel him closer, to feel him more.
Ghost’s fingers moved on backwards from behind her ear, going through the wilds of her undone hair and finding its place on the back of her head. Heart racing, Jade was expecting another kiss that was not in the designated place. However, when his deep, raspy voice softly said to her, “I’m going to kiss you now.”, she found herself giddy with her eyes closed. Part of her wanted to open her eyes and see what was going on right in front of her, but the other part stood strong against it, not wanting to ruin the moment.
So when she felt him closing in, Jade gave all control over to him. She relaxed herself, letting Ghost gently pull her head closer to his, to at last, close the distance between their lips.
It was the softest, slowest kiss possible, filled with unsureness on her part, yet with a sense of certainty and confidence from him, and because of that, Jade let him do his part, leading the kiss to the point that it was enjoyable and… lovely.
The kiss lasted for only a mere 5 seconds at most, but it felt like hours. Ghost reluctantly pulled back and saw that Jade had already opened her green eyes. Her face was painted with shyness and shock, a pleasant one, as she saw that Ghost had removed his mask entirely, his face right in front of hers, his brown hair still a bit dishevelled from removing his balaclava.
Jade was a heavily trained warrior and an exceptionally skilled individual who stayed calm in times of distress and emergency on the battlefield, a force to be reckoned with, and could be an absolute menace when she wanted to be. Now, seeing the same woman like this – dazed, wide-eyed, a blushing mess, and taken aback by a simple kiss – The sight made him smile softly.
If only she'd known how long he'd wanted to do that to her.
Palm still resting on the side of her neck, he asked her, “How was that for a first time?”
Jade looked like a robot losing its ability to function. There were no words in her brain to respond to his question. Scratch that. It looked like she didn’t even register what his question was.
Seeing her so flabbergasted made him let out a deep chuckle. “Midget. I’m talking to you.”
That bastardized nickname snapped her out of her thoughts, making her blink rapidly, seemingly trying to sort her jumbled brain. Jade looked at the man who just claimed her first kiss right in his dark, brown eyes.
He’s still right in front of her, face looking at her delightfully with a sweet smile, not like the usual dark, ready-to-kill gaze. It’s almost like looking at a different person entirely.
“Uh… Umm–” Jade couldn’t form words.
Another chuckle, “You okay?”
"...this is a weird request, but" A pause, "Can you… do that again?"
Never in a thousand lifetimes, he would ever expect that answer from her. "...You want me to kiss you again?"
"Yeah. Can you do that?" She spoke with a low voice. "Please?"
His eyes opened wide at her request. Confused, but amazed at the same time. Did that request mean she liked it? Her expressions said that she did, though. Or did she just want to make sure? Nevertheless, Ghost decided to oblige and leaned in again to kiss her.
Jade closed her eyes again and felt his lips against hers for the second time that night. His kiss was as soft and as tender as the first time. This one, though, she decided to take in the feeling of his rough lips, the way he tilted his head to fit hers, the way his large hand lightly pulled her in and softly kissed her. All the sensations she felt from his actions became ecstasy.
Her hands lifted their way up to find Ghost's cheeks. Jade could swear she heard a small gasp from the man. Fingers gliding along the side of his face, she could feel his stubbles grazing her skin. It was such a surreal sensation, to think that this is the face of the man who got branded as a ghost, a myth, who wears the mask to hide who he is. Right now, she's having her palm on the skin of his face, and he allowed her to.
No one had touched the skin on his face in years. No one ever managed to get their hands on his face save for enemies who sought to kill him and punched his mask before meeting their demise with his knife. The only form of touch he remembered was of his father, who was all but loving.
With the tip of her thumb, Jade traced the scars on his face. Her warm hands instantly built a gentle fire on his skin. The feeling of such a tender touch was almost like meeting a stranger to him. But if it's a stranger, why did he find himself missing it so much? Why did he yearn for it so? Her touch ignited a warmth that he never knew he needed.
At that time, the woman he was kissing felt more like home than anything and anyone ever did. He felt like he could just melt right there and then. Here Ghost thought that he was the one kissing her, but now it was like she was the one casting some sort of magic spell on him.
Soon, their hands moved, Jade’s hands left his cheeks and found his wrist who was holding the back of her head. He almost forgot the feeling of someone’s hand on his own, but before he knew it, he felt her other hand grasping his sweater, right above his heart, crumpling the cloth. As they went on, he couldn’t just stay still anymore. Ghost’s other hand also found its way to her back, lightly pressing on her. He wanted her closer, he needed her close.
Ghost snapped himself out of his thoughts and pulled back, catching Jade off guard.
The both of them looked into each other's eyes as they caught their breaths, not noticing that they'd been kissing for the last minute. Faces extremely red from racing hearts and rushing blood, clouds of cold air escaping their mouth from the cold, for a moment they thought they knew this was just because of a single mistletoe, yet deep down, they knew this was something more.
Not hearing anything from one another, Ghost took his hand back from her neck and waist as Jade parted her hands from him to her lips with her hands.
The man spoke first, "You need more?"
"Yes– I mean– No! That was enough." Words stumbled their way out of her mouth. "Uh… So… that happened. I just had my first kiss."
Ghost couldn't help the smile, "I just stole your first kiss."
"No. You didn't steal it." She denied, "If anything, I'm glad you are my first kiss."
Hearing those words, Ghost could feel his heart racing again, the world suddenly felt warmer.
"I'm sorry you have to kiss me, though. You've always hated me." Jade continued with a laugh.
"Who says I hate you?"
That made her look at him, and what she saw was the most gentle face she'd ever seen him. Again, she didn't know he was capable of that expression. "If I hated you, I wouldn't ask you to stay, wouldn't I?"
That's a true statement. "You're right. So we're past the "stay away from me" phase now?"
"Our first meeting was in Verdansk. Situation was out of control and we were off to a bad start." He explained, "And we just kissed. We're way past that now."
Smiling, Jade pursed her lips before saying, "So… are we still friends?"
"Friends?" He glanced at her.
"Yep."
"Friends then." Confirmed Ghost.
"Who just kissed each other."
"Because someone hung a fucking mistletoe on the back porch." He retorted while gesturing to the decoration above them.
The woman laughed out loud before looking at the man, who was also having a chuckle of his own.
That's the first time she heard him – saw him – this happy. Had he always been this… handsome? She'd only looked at his face once before, which was when he revealed himself to the team in the Los Vaqueros safehouse in Las Almas, and then, never again.
But if this was what Jade could see beneath the mask – his happy face, the crows feet on the corners of his eyes, the corners of his lips turning upwards, and the fact that she just learned that he had shallow dimples when smiling – then she wished the mask could just disappear. Forever.
Because after this… he would put on that mask again.
This might be the last time she saw him without the mask.
When would she see him without it again?
Out of nowhere, some unexplainable force of will inside her made Jade lean in and left a peck on Ghost's cheek.
The SAS lieutenant instantly looked at the woman, flabbergasted.
Jade herself gasped loudly, covering her face in disbelief of her own action. She couldn't see it, but in his eyes, her face was as red as her hair.
Why did she do that? What made her do that?!
They swore it was the most deafening silence in their lives. Both of them stayed like that for a good 10 seconds, seemingly trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened.
"Oh my God… OH MY GOD. I’M SORRY. I’M SORRY!” Jade uttered in absolute panic.
Ghost stayed still in silence, his eyes wide open glaring at hers.
Oh shit. Shit shit shit. He’s mad. HE’S MAD.
“It– It's freezing! I'm going inside!" Jade scrambled to stand up, taking the cocoa mug with her and went to the doorway, before remembering that she still had Ghost's jacket on her shoulder.
"Ja- Lottie! Wait–" He was about to stand up to follow her, but his words got cut by his jacket flying straight to his face. When he removed the clothing, she'd already disappeared into the merry party inside.
Touching the part where Jade kissed him, Ghost slowly stared back at the falling snow in front of the porch. He hadn't worn his jacket yet, and somehow he didn't feel cold at all.
It's so hot.
It's too hot.
He buried his face in his palms, before running them through his brown hair. She didn't have to do that, didn't she? There was a mistletoe, they kissed because of it, and that was it, right?
Then what was that peck for? There wasn't any obligation involved that required her to kiss him again.
Ghost could feel his heart pumping blood faster than it ever did, faster than when he was on the battlefield, faster than when he ran laps every day. Butterflies were rushing deep inside his stomach, flying all around his insides like it just wanted to break out of his body.
He didn't know why, but if the kiss and her touch were a gentle fire that built slowly, that little peck felt like he just got struck by a damn thunder.
Violently.
And yet, he was so happy about that little peck - weirdly more so than the kiss - Too fucking happy.
Ghost grasped the sweater right above his heart before muttering to himself,
"Fuckin’ hell…"
Jade didn't melt his cold heart.
She set it on fire.
—
Price couldn’t believe the situation he was in.
His sergeants, Kyle and Soap, along with Ladybug, leaning on the back door of his house, looking at Ghost and Jade kissing at his back porch. Fucking spectacular.
“See, Gaz?! I told you–”
“SHUT UP Mate they’re gonna hear your loud arse.” Gaz nudged the drunken Scot’s rib to silence him.
Nevertheless, the plan worked. Gaz and Ladybug was the provider of the decorations since Price didn’t have any Christmas Decorations in this house in London. When Soap arrived with a mischievous look on his face and told the couple about “Operation Red Skull”, they were automatically IN on it.
And who would’ve fucking guessed? They made his house a home ground for matchmaking, and they succeeded. They weren’t his best subordinates for nothing after all.
Suddenly, Price heard a loud gasp from the three in front of him. His captain persona suddenly kicked in and stepped forward, shoving both of his sergeants to see the situation clearly.
There they saw Jade and Ghost, looking at each other, with Jade’s face looking like she was absolutely shocked.
“Oh my God… did she just sneak another kiss to him?!” Ladybug exclaimed with a whispering voice.
“FUCK! I didn’t have a clear visual.” Gaz followed.
“I think it was just a peck to his cheek??” Soap added.
“Everyone fall back!” Price commanded, and just like muscle memory, they all scrambled back to the living room, taking their respective deck of poker cards and sat around the messy table to pretend like they were still playing.
Soon after, Jade herself opened the back door with a face that none of them had ever seen before – a combination of shock and embarrassment.
“Jade? You okay?” Lady twisted her body to see Jade.
The former MI6 nodded uncontrollably like a shaking head doll. “Huh? Yeah. Yeah yeah, I’m okay.”
Gaz and Soap were covering their mouths with their deck of cards, unable to hide their smiles. It looked like they were about to break into a massive laughter any second now.
What broke it was Captain Price, who suddenly asked Jade,
“Really? What’s that black spot on your nose, then?”
---
YEEEHHEHEEHEHHHEHE. Sorry for the long wait! Thank you for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it! (❁´◡`❁)
Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3
#sorry for the long wait!#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod#cod mw#simon ghost riley#ghost#cod mw22#call of duty modern warfare 2022#charlotte jade le jardin#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#johnny soap mactavish#eleanor ladybug graham#ghost x jade#ghost x oc#ghostjade#gaz x oc#gaz x ladybug#ladygaz#call of duty fic#cod fic#webnovel#i guess lmao
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
“You came.”
“As always, Harry Potter, your powers of observation astound,” the Dark Lord carps. “Care to explain why we’re both here?”
And there’s the million-dollar question. He hesitates for a moment, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting more. “You can feel it, yeah? Everything’s coming to a head.”
After staring for a few beats, Voldemort gives a terse nod.
Harry nods a couple times awkwardly in return, licking his dry lips. “So. We’re expected to fight, and at least one of us is meant to die.”
Voldemort tenses at his side. “If you intend to ask for mercy–”
“No, no,” Harry says, anxiously dragging a hand through his wild hair and leaving it even more of a mess. “I know there’s no middle ground, for either of us.”
His words catch in his throat, stuck in the anger and frustration and exhaustion of years of fighting and losing people with no real gain.
“But,” Voldemort prompts.
“But,” Harry agrees. “Have you ever ridden a Ferris wheel?”
Voldemort blinks and frowns at the apparent non-sequitur. He says, “I beg your pardon?” but the meaning is clearly ‘Are you mad?’
“Because I haven’t. My relatives,” and his voice breaks on the word because it’s only accurate in the most technical of senses. “Used to go to the local funfair every year. My cousin would always come back with candy apples and caramel corn and some gigantic plush animal he’d say he’d won.”
He smiles, but he can feel how ragged it is. “Fat chance, that. Guaranteed my uncle bought it for him.”
“Potter, what in Merlin’s name are you on about?” He’s apparently worn through Voldemort’s limited patience and the wizard is looking vaguely murderous.
“Right, sorry. Point is, I’ve never been, and I’m guessing you’ve never been to a funfair either. I doubt it was a priority at Wool’s.”
Voldemort’s wand appears in his hand and ‘vaguely’ has shifted quickly into ‘distinctly murderous.’
“Y’know, It’s funny what you fixate on when contemplating your mortality and what you’ll regret not having done when you die,” Harry continues quickly, trying to defuse the situation. “There are lots of things I haven’t done, and so many things I’ll miss. But I keep getting caught up on riding a bloody Ferris wheel, of all things.”
He’d considered asking his friends – he had. But it wouldn’t be new for Hermione, who’d had a pretty normal childhood, magic aside, and Ron wouldn’t get why it was important even once he’d wrapped his mind around the idea of a Ferris wheel. Ron had grown up with flying broomsticks, after all.
“I thought about who else might understand why it meant something, and, well,” Harry huffs, shuffling his feet self-consciously. “Here you are.”
He refuses to look at Voldemort’s face – who knows what expression he’s wearing, but it’s probably derisive in the extreme – instead focusing on the Dark Lord’s wand in case he has to defend himself.
“You invited me to go to a fair with you,” Voldemort says levelly. “Because we’re going to battle to the death soon.”
Well, when he puts it like that.
(naïve melody)
#harry potter#voldemort#tomarrymort#silverfox!voldemort#just two dudes who had rough childhoods#bisexual disaster harry potter#naïve melody
225 notes
·
View notes
Text
Crushed 19
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.
Characters: Colin Shea, Jonathan Pine
Note: it's hump day, let's get humped.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖
Jonathan doesn’t drive you back to your building. Instead, you walk with him through the halls to his condo. You stop outside the door as he slips the bags up to his wrist and unlocks the door. He holds it open and waves you inside.
You enter, rubbing your arm nervously. It’s been a long day. A long few days. You’re exhausted. You catch a yawn in your hand as you hug yourself with one arm and peer around.
“I’ll have to go into the office tomorrow. Can’t be avoided much longer,” he explains as he puts the bags on the side table, “you will stay here. To be safe.”
“Oh, uh, right,” you sway back and forth as you press your palm to the side of your neck, “um, I don’t mind--”
“I mind,” he interjects, “I can’t trust that animal not to act as what he is. Darling, you must think, yes? Learn from your mistakes. We both know he’s dangerous. I wouldn’t put you in such danger and I would hope you wouldn’t walk right into it.”
“I know, I wasn’t... I just... I wouldn’t want to impose,” your eyes drift away meekly, “that’s all.”
“Impose? Have I not made my feelings clear?” He approaches you, brushing his knuckles up your arm, “I cannot get enough of you, fawn.”
You smile but it’s hard. You feel weak. The day is only half done and you could keel over. He brings his hand up to cradle your cheek, “what is it?”
“Just tired,” you shrug.
“Mmm, how about... I’ll run you a nice hot bath. You can relax. We’ve done rather much today... you have been through even more,” he gives a doleful look, “you let me worry for everything. All will turn out, I’m certain.”
“I guess,” you purse your lips. It’s easy enough for him to say. He still has a job, you’re not so sure you do.
“Darling,” he brings a bent finger under your chin, tiling your head, “I will take care of you.”
Your lips part but you quickly close them. You don’t want to argue right now. You don’t want to point out that everything is still fresh and new. Or that he might not feel the same in a month or two. Or a year. Especially if you’re unemployed.
One day he’ll see how worthless you are.
“So let’s get that bath going,” he bends to kiss your forehead, “I’ve some bath salts which may help ease the tension. I’ll light a few candles...” he rambles as he turns and strides down the hallway. You follow after him reluctantly, as much as the bath sounds nice, you already feel like a burden.
You stand in the doorway as you watch him remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves. He fusses over the tub as of you’re not there. The water spills out into the deep porcelain basin and he stands. He turns and gestures to a towel on a silver bar.
“That is clean,” he says before he opens the tall cupboard near the sink, “bath salt... rose.”
He reads the canister before he uncaps it. He turns to add a sprinkle to the water, the floral aroma rising with the steam. He sets it aside and beckons you into the bathroom. You cross the tile as you play with the hem of your shirt.
He brushes past you and you turn to watch him go. You face the tub again and pull up your shirt. You let your pants slip down your legs and as you straighten, you hear him return. He places a three-wick candle on the ledge above the tub and lights it.
He looks at you, his eyes roving up and down, and he smirks, “I’m almost tempted to join you, darling, but alas, I do have a few things to tend to.”
“That’s... okay,” you murmur, hugging yourself as you stand in panty and bra.
He scoffs, “why are you playing shy, eh?” He nears and tickles along your collar bone, sending a shiver through you.
“I’m not, I’m... cold,” you lie and turn your attention to the tub.
“Mm, if you need any help warming up,” his fingers flutter up your neck before he retracts his touch, “should you need me, you need only call my name, fawn.”
“Alright,” you eke out.
You wait until he’s past you but don’t check to see if he’s gone. You strip down the rest of your clothes and near the tub. You lift your legs over the edge and sink into the water. You sigh as the warmth seeps into you.
You close your eyes as the water continues to lap down by your feet. You try to let the tension out. You’re thinking too much.
💔
You button up the shirt Jonathan left for you. You still feel uneasy as you slip into bed but you’re too tired to care. You might be invading his space but he doesn’t seem to mind much. Besides, the hot water has finished you off. You just want to sleep forever.
Your eyes roll back and you hide from the world. It doesn’t quite fade away, still vaguely present on the other side of your eyelids. That hazy itchiness settles in your head but the fog just won’t thicken to darkness. You’re awake, barely, kept conscious by the nerves rattling in your chest.
In your stupour, you remain vaguely aware of your unusual surroundings. Despite the threat that lingers on the other side of the walls, you can’t help but miss your apartment. It’s the first space that was truly your own. All that’s ruined.
You hear a dulcet tone, a low hum that’s soothing a much as it is stirring. You roll onto your side and grumble, peeling open your eyes as your ears prick. Jonathan’s voice precedes him into the room. You blink at him from the bed, curled up under the blankets as your warmth keeps you in place.
“Yes, I will have her there, never you worry,” he says breezily, “mm, yes, I’ve the time. I’ll add it to my calendar. Shouldn’t be any issue.” As you watch him, he meets your gaze and his brows flick up as he grins, “thanks, Eugenia, can’t wait. Yes, you have a wonderful night.”
He pulls the phone away from his ear and you recognise the case and the cracked protector. It’s yours. What the heck? You sit up and reach instinctively for him.
“Hey, that’s my phone,” you accuse.
“Yes, it was ringing and I thought you asleep. It was only your mother,” he drops the phone on the bed next to you. “I could hardly answer between messages from that pest you call a neighbour.”
“What?” You grasp the cell and slide it closer.
“She only wanted to confirm the time for the engagement party next weekend. You can wear one of your new dresses,” he explains as he goes to the wall mirror and checks his reflection, smoothing his hair before he unbuttons his collar. He works a path down the row and the fabric slackens around his shoulders. “I’ve made certain to make record of each message that creature sends. We may just need to consult authorities.”
“Colin? I—I blocked him.”
“Please do not say his name. It’s absolutely hideous, isn’t it?” He faces you as he shrugs off his shirt. “It seems he has found an alternative, that chit he keeps around.”
“Ally?” You wonder.
“Mmm, is that her name,” he drones as he dumps his shirt into the hamper. “Well, we needn’t worry about them much longer.”
He continues to undress as you pull yourself up against the pillows. Things just keep happening and you can’t keep up. You look up as he wears nothing but his short cotton boxers and nears the bed. You peek down at your phone and put it on the night table to right of the bed.
“I do think you should call your landlord and give notice sooner than later,” he climbs onto the foot of the bed.
“Notice?” You echo in confusion, “why--”
“You cannot go back, darling, it’s not safe,” he tugs at the blanket, pulling it away from your body, “I cannot in good conscience let you return.”
“But I—we can just let things mellow out, right? Colin will get over it--”
“I told you,” he grabs your ankle, “do not utter his name at me.”
He pulls you so you fall flat on your back. You throw your arms out and gasp as your head bounces onto the mattress. He separates your legs and perches between them. You lift yourself on your elbows, breathless, and stare at him.
“I can’t stay forever--”
“Did I ever say that?” He challenges, his blue eyes blazing up at you.
“No, but--”
“I understand things have escalated quickly, fawn, but we will figure it all out. I will be certain to clarify everything at the office, let them know it was simply not your doing,” his eyes cling to your face and narrow before slowly descending.
He glides his hands up your legs, crawling closer on his knees. He slides his touch beneath the loose shirt and tickles your naked skin. He sends a chill through you that speckles hotly. He feels your body, running his hands up and your torso as you quiver.
He slips his hands above the fabric as he kneels between your thighs. He unbuttons the shirt to your belly button, unveiling your chest and bending to dote on it. He cups one side as his mouth explores the other; nipping and nuzzle. You let out a pathetic noise as you cradle the back of his head.
You arch your back as his warmth draws you in and chases away your doubts. His long fingers soothe you and his intensity overpowers you. As much as this man has you uncertain, you cannot resist him. It feels nice to be wanted even if it isn’t who you wanted.
💔
Once more, you fall asleep in the afterglow of Jonathan’s attentions. How easily he can obfuscate your fears and doubts. How his touch can so easily distract you from the things that might keep you awake.
The weight of his arm settles over you, holding you to him, his hard long body coiled around yours. He keeps a leg curled between yours as his hot breath seeps into your scalp. You’re content, you’re safe.
Your sleep is only disturbed as he untangles himself carefully from you. You don’t rouse entirely, clinging to the pillow and dregs of fatigue. He tucks the blanket under your figure and the bed shifts with the absences of his weight. His scent lingers behind him.
You sink back down and fall flat on your back, spreading out across the mattress. The late night lull settles over you, lulling you down as the distant drone of Jonathan’s lilted voice further coaxes you. You moan through your slumber and roll onto his side, longing for him to return.
You blink and the blue digits of the clock have changed. Twenty minutes and he’s still not back. You shiver and flutter your eyelashes, rubbing your cheeks as you force yourself awake. You sit up dizzily, you can still hear him.
You shimmy to the edge of the bed and stand. You hug yourself as a shiver washes over your naked flesh. The button-up is lost somewhere in the bedding. You put your feet down softly as you pad across the room, following his timbre as it come between sharper tones.
You creep out into the hall, a bluish glow drawing you in. You follow the cool hardwood to the front room and hide in the dim as you squint. Jonathan has his phone in hand, the screen alight as his profile is limned in its shine. He watches it intently as you recognise the voice chirping from the speaker.
“That’s so lovely, dear, hope we can see you soon,” his mother chimes.
You waver on your feet. Oh, you shouldn’t listen.
“Will she be coming?” His father’s gristly accent comes through.
You pause before you can back up. Jonathan clicks his tongue, “yes, I think so.”
“Jon,” his mother titters, “oh, that’s so exciting! That’s... big.”
“Eh, yes, don’t think you ever let us meet one of the birds,” he father chides.
“Father, she’s not... don’t call her that,” Jonathan rebukes.
“I’m teasing, yeah?” The elder Pine chortles, “you’re gonna have to warn her about us. If that place has made you so soft, I shouldn’t want to scare the girl.”
“Father,” Jonathan utters once more, “she’s... not... She’s perfect.”
His mom squeals and giggles. You gulp and press yourself against the wall. What is he talking about? He’s talking about taking you somewhere. To his home? That’s a far way. Something he should probably ask you first. His mother is entirely correct; that’s big. His compliments cannot counteract the shock of his one-sided decision.
You sidle along the hallway, careful not to place your feet too heavily. As you near the bedroom, your elbow hits the frame and the thump casts silence through the apartment. Shoot.
You peer toward the front room and see Jonathan’s shadow closing in. He must have heard your misstep. You quickly flit into the room and ease into the bed. You pull the blankets over you and turn your back to the door. Your heart is racing.
You sense him in the doorway, watching you. Silent.
“Everything okay, son?” His father asks.
“Yes, it’s... fine,” Jonathan answers, “I’ll let you go. Wouldn’t want to wake her.”
“Oh yes, get some sleep,” his mother insists, “love ya.”
“Night, son.”
Jonathan crosses the room and you hear his phone meet the table on his side of the bed. The mattress dips as he climbs in and pulls the blanket over himself, nestling in close to you. He sighs and hums as he hugs you to him once more.
You lay, frozen and silent, praying he can’t feel your pulse.
“Did I wake you?” He whispers and kisses your crown.
You force a groan from your throat and feign grogginess, “hmm, oh, no...” You wiggle into the mattress and yawn, putting your hand over his.
“Back to sleep, darling,” he purrs as he nuzzles you.
#colin shea#jonathan pine#dark colin shea#dark!colin shea#dark jonathan pine#dark!jonathan pine#jonathan pine x reader#colin shea x reaader#what's your number?#the night manager#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#multifandom
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
Moves & Countermoves (Part 11)
Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten
Eight weeks.
It’s been eight weeks since the tour. Y/N grows more anxious with each passing day, waking from terrible nightmares alone. She finds Haymitch sitting on the couch, with a bottle in hand.
“You need to sleep,” he says after a long moment.
“I can’t,” she argues.
“Come here.” Haymitch waits until she is settled, with her head in his lap, before throwing the blanket over her. “Close your eyes.”
She nuzzles against his thigh, utterly exhausted but unwilling to return to the horror of her dreams.
In truth, that’s why he’s forsaken the warmth of their bed for the couch. They’re coming up on a Quarter Quell…and anything can happen in a Quarter Quell. He knows that better than anyone, after being reaped with double the tributes.
He peeks down. Her eyes are closed; breathing too fast, her muscles rigid. “You’re safe.” Haymitch murmurs, “it’s just you and me.” These whispers continue until she snores lightly.
He wakes with a hand still twined in hers and a kink in his neck, from sleeping upright.
Y/N doesn’t stir as he stretches and yawns to the patter of little feet on the second floor. Haymitch stumbles into the kitchen, flipping on the burner to start breakfast.
“Honk.”
He turns with the spatula in hand. Surely he is dreaming, or perhaps the years have slowly driven him insane. But he knows for certain that damn goose is not in his house, again. And if it were, it sure as hell wouldn’t have the audacity to honk at him.
“Get,” Haymitch warns, shooing the beast out through the back door. It wails at him all the while, rousing Y/N.
She rubs her eyes, trying to make sense of the scene. “Louie?”
“Honk.”
“Don’t say his name.” Haymitch grunts, closing the door harshly behind the animal.
Y/N laughs, “how’d he get in here?”
“I had the sliding door open for some fresh air.”
“Smells good,” she takes another whiff.
“I made breakfast.”
“Thank you,” she forces herself from the cushions. Brushing past her husband toward the bathroom.
Haymitch is in a better mood when she returns. Everest and Arista are seated at the island, scarfing down pancakes as Haymitch fills them in on the goose fiasco.
“I turn around and he’s standing there.” Haymitch points to the exact spot.
Arista gasps, resorting to his full name, “Louis.”
“Had to chase him out with the spatula.”
Everest chuckles, around a forkful of eggs.
“You didn’t hit him, right Daddy?” Arista looks up with those big eyes, the same color as Y/N’s.
“No,” Haymitch sighs, “I didn’t hit him.”
Y/N comes to collect her plate, standing beside Haymitch, opposite the kids.
“You can sit down.” He smirks, watching her take the first bite.
“I’m ok,” she bumps his hip with her own. They are fuller now, at seven months pregnant. “I’ll just hang out here with you.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Stay with me forever.
“Hey mom,” Everest calls her attention.
“Hmm?”
“Do you think we can plant some of the seeds Peeta gave me?”
The geese have done a number on their garden.
“Yeah, we can do that.” Y/N agrees, wanting to soak up as much time with them as she can before the baby.
They haven’t talked much about names. Even the crib resides in one of the spare rooms, untouched, unprepared.
————————————————————————
“Oh, Katniss.” Octavia, of her prep team, has tears in her eyes at the sight. “You look beautiful.”
The Capitol has chosen this dress; the dress. The one she’ll be married in, though it needs quite a bit of alteration.
“Is that my dress?” Y/N chokes out. She thought it might be strung up in a museum somewhere, immortalized as one of Snow’s trophies, or sold to the highest bidder. She thought she’d never see it again; not now. Not on Katniss.
Katniss opens her mouth to speak. Though it isn’t her choice, she feels sick.
“She can’t wear this dress.”
“It’s what the people chose, dear. Because you’re a family,” Flavius explains. “Don’t you want Katniss to feel the way you did on your special day? We can always alter it again to fit your daughter, when the time comes.”
“No,” Y/N breathes, this can’t be happening, “no, where’s Cinna?”
“I’m here.” He emerges from the hall, scraps of ivory fabric draped over one shoulder.
“I need to talk to you, please.” Y/N is visibly shaking as Cinna follows her to the sitting room, closing the glass door so Katniss has no chance of overhearing. But she can still see them.
Her mentor’s frantic explanation, Cinna’s steadying hand at her shoulder as he listens. Gaze changing quickly from sadness to anger, mirroring Y/N’s. Cinna nods, one final time before Y/N squeezes his upper arm in parting.
“We’re going to make some changes.” The stylist says upon his return.
“Y/N,” Katniss calls from the pedestal, unable to go after her. “Wait.”
“I’ll be back.”
“I’m sorry.” Katniss apologies, for whatever she’s done.
“No, don’t be. It’s-” Y/N breaks off, “nothing. I just need to see Haymitch.” She rushes out before Katniss can get a word in.
Cinna begins sketching out a few new additions, taking away the old, making it new.
“Is there something wrong with this dress?” She asks, itching to remove it.
Cinna shakes his head, even he has trouble looking at her in it now that he knows. “Nothing we can’t fix.”
Katniss recounts the events to Peeta later that night, he doesn’t fully understand either.
“It’s like she was afraid of the dress…or what would happen to me while I was in it.” Katniss looks down at her hands. “Maybe something happened to her.”
Peeta swallows hard, the more they learn about the Capitol, the more reason he has to believe… “I think a lot of things happened to her.”
————————————————————————
Commander Thread arrives within the week. Tearing through the hob, taking away what little they have and screwing down a big metal whipping post in the square.
The chaos is not missed by the inhabitants of victor’s village, Katniss least of all. Pushing her way through the crowd to find the source of the tortured screams echoing out into the streets.
Interrupting Gale’s punishment earns her a black eye, with a gash underneath and one lash to the outside of her thigh, on the eve of the big wedding. When she stands again, she is faced with the barrel of Thread’s gun.
The first person to rise to her aid is the last person who should be standing between Katniss and a bullet. Shoving Katniss behind her with one arm, the other held protective over her growing child. Explaining who she is and talking him down. Thread recognizes her, Katniss too after a moment; if he kills them it will be his head on the chopping block.
Haymitch is fuming when he finds them there. Furious with both Y/N and Katniss for putting themselves in harm’s way. Peeta arrives on scene, another person for Haymitch to shove behind him without a second thought.
“You sure Snow wants four dead victors? Because that’s what we’re looking at here.” Haymitch reasons, holding both hands in the air. “It’s bad enough that you marked up Katniss’ face on the eve of the big wedding. My wife is carrying the most eagerly anticipated baby in Panem, all this stress isn’t good. Let it go…and we will too.”
“Fine,” the commander licks his lips, “but next time it’s the firing squad.”
“Excellent idea.”
The flogging is broadcast to the nation on a five second delay, cutting out just after Katniss jumps in.
No one sees past that point except the president. Again, the victors of district twelve have proven themselves to be a united front. A family of agitators beyond reason, who consider themselves above the law. Snow knows exactly what he must do and Plutarch already has a plan.
“It’s what we gamemakers like to call a wrinkle.”
————————————————————————
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the seventy-fifth year of the Hunger Games.”
Everest and Arista are off playing with Madge and Y/N’s parents, leaving the eldest victors of district twelve to sit silently in front of the projector.
“It was written in the charter of the games, that every twenty-five years there would be a Quarter Quell, to keep fresh for each new generation the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is marked by games of a special significance.”
Y/N skates her thumb over Haymitch’s knuckles hoping to comfort him.
“On this the seventy-fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell.” Snow pulls the card free from its envelope. “As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district.”
“What?” Y/N leans forward, surely she misunderstood.
Haymitch grips his glass with enough force to shatter it, broken shards falling to the floor. He is bleeding, but he can’t feel it. The anger, the fear, the rage swallows the initial bite of pain.
“The victors will present themselves on reaping day; regardless of age, situation, or state of health.”
Y/N examines his wounds, scarlet pooling across his palm and fingers.
“Leave it, angel.” Haymitch warns, needing it to tether him to reality. Proof that this is more than a nightmare.
“I need to check on Peeta and Katniss.” Y/N remembers, pushing past the clouded lens of her own mind. “Let me take care of you before I go.”
“I need you to leave it.” He says a second time.
“Ok- I,” there are no words. Not as she stands, or presses her lips to the crown of his head and leaves. Instead she focuses on her steps, one foot in front of the other.
Haymitch stays there, unmoving, allowing his blood to stain the pristine fabric of the couch’s armrest. The front door creaks open, enough to startle him to action, he doesn’t want his children to see. Instead he tosses the throw blanket over the evidence.
“Where’s Y/N?” Katniss demands, identifying herself as the intruder.
“Ah, it’s just you.” Haymitch whips the fabric off, using it to gather the broken glass. “Take a seat.”
“We have to save them.”
“Finally done the math, have you?” Haymitch muses.
Promises are easier to make than keep. Asking for Peeta and Y/N to live is essentially asking each other to die. That’s not something that Haymitch can bring himself to do. But he does agree to volunteer for Peeta; with a sneaking suspicion that Katniss will do the same when it comes down to it.
Y/N is good, kind and selfless. Katniss has known it from the day they trained together, on the mat of the tribute center, what feels like a lifetime ago. The same way Peeta is good, willing to stand by her, comfort and protect her, at his own expense.
“Haymitch!” The sound of it is awful, wretched from Y/N’s throat.
“What’s the matter?” Haymitch stands immediately, as does Katniss, rushing toward the entryway.
“I went to check on Peeta,” Y/N flies into his arms, closed eyes shining with tears.
“You’re ok,” Haymitch murmurs, smoothing down her hair.
“But I couldn’t find,” Y/N opens her eyes to find the very person she’s been losing her mind over. “Katniss.”
Haymitch releases her. Relieved that the cause of her anguish is nothing more than a misunderstanding.
“Katniss.”
Katniss embraces her, holding fast, like it might save her, like it might change anything. In Katniss’ mind there was always some understanding, that Peeta is to Y/N as she is to Haymitch.
They fit together crudely, like an ill crafted puzzle. Even still, Katniss can no longer deny that Y/N loves her just as fiercely. No different than her own child. “Sorry I scared you. I just had to get out of there.” My mom’s screams…Prim’s questions.
“It’s ok,” Y/N pulls back to look at her. Stroking her thumbs over the blotchy apples of her victor’s cheeks. “We don’t know who they’re gonna pick.”
Katniss nods, allowing Y/N to fuss about her. Needing it just as badly, though she would never ask.
“But we know all of the victors and depending upon the reaping, I have some ideas for potential strategies and alliances-”
“You know it’s me.” Katniss says finally, voice breaking over the last word. “If the only choice is you or me in that arena, I’m the one Snow wants dead.”
“We don’t know that, sweetheart.” Haymitch scrubs his unmarred hand over his face.
“And he’d prefer you dead over Peeta.” Katniss points out, not in the mood to sugarcoat.
“You’re right,” Haymitch admits. “We know the bowls are rigged, but we don’t know how. If they want entertainment and shock value, it’s gonna be us together.” He flicks a finger between himself and Y/N. “Or you and Peeta together. We’re all star crossed lovers now and I promise you, we won’t be the only ones. It’ll be lovers, siblings, friends. If Snow’s doing it to punish us.” Now the finger is pointed at Katniss. “He’s sending in Y/N and Peeta. If it’s simply to eliminate their problems, that’d be you and me, kid. And we won’t have any idea what their angle is until reaping day.”
Part 12
Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating
#haymitch x reader#haymitch abernathy x you#haymitch fanfic#haymitch x y/n#haymitch abernathy x reader#haymitch abernathy x y/n#haymitch abernathy x yn#haymitch abernathy fanfic#haymitch abernathy#thg haymitch#the hunger games#the hunger games fanfiction#katniss everdeen#peeta mellark
435 notes
·
View notes
Text
honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s
Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 47.3k words | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak | oral (f receiving) | (semi) public sex | vaginal fingering
masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist
You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”
a/n: howdy folks! I’m pulling my head out of my ass and getting back into writing. These last few weeks have been leveling put for me and I’ve been feeling a lot better compared to how my life HAS been. These two were the perfect break even though this took my two whole months for only a few thousand words. I’ll be back sooner than last time with an update, but you’ll see me before then for another wip. Much love, hayhay 🤍
Chapter 8: What Was I Thinkin?
Three hours ago, if you asked Joel how the night would come to its end, he’d tell you he’d probably be in the cabin, laying in his cold bed, staring up at his ceiling fan, alone—with his right hand working his dick to the tune of the farmer’s daughter. In fact, three hours ago, he’d told Tommy something similar.
“Joel, man—I promise It looks fine.”
He adjusts the buttons on his shirt another time, stuck between leaving one undone and letting the opening linger down his chest. “Fine ain’t gonna cover it, Tom—ain’t no way in hell I’m walkin’ up to her lookin jus’ fine.” Tommy huffs from behind him and starts to go through the closet beside Joel while he stares at himself in the body length mirror behind the door.
“What about this one?” Tommy beams, He’s holding up a black shirt on a hanger, slight dust on the shoulders from it’s lack of use. He’s half surprised the moths haven’t gotten to it yet. Its buttons are made of iridescent pearls that snap in place, labyrinthian embroidery adorning the breast pockets. “Ain’t worn it since before the accident.” He lifts one of the sleeves in his hands, lingering on the fitted cuff.
His mind takes him back to half forgotten nights under neon lights, long neck bottles and ropers calluses on his rodeo-worn hands. To money wasted on buckle bunnies and broncs, to years taken off his life under the sharp hooves of a one ton animal—years he’ll never get back. Years he wishes he’d never taken for granted.
He was a more confident man then, not cocky—but proud of his abilities in the arena, proud enough to walk tall, speak surly. He was a master in his sport because he trained religiously, fully immersed in the idea that this was his only shot at making it. He still believes that, even now. He wishes you could have met him then, when he was that Joel—Rodeo buckles and spurs, cowboy hats and stadium lights. When he was a white straw hat and chaps, an unsullied grin with a thirst for adrenaline and belt buckles.
He holds the black cotton between his well worked fingers and longs to be that man again—if only for one night. Would you like him? A cowboy in his prime with worked muscles, before his beer belly and the softness in his chest really set in? “This one’s good,” he huffs, brushing the dust off the shoulders before unbuttoning it enough to remove it from the hanger. “Lemme help you.” His brother offers. Joel’s not naive, he knows the fear is visible atop the surface of his flushed skin, in the deepened frown lines and the shake in his hands.
Tommy is a lot of things, but once in a while he softens around his selfish edges and he bends a little, reaching out for the weeping limbs of his brother, struggling with all his might to keep himself standing up straight in the storm, a resilient and irrepressible figure to look up to. Tommy sees the way the longing shines through the perforations in his irises, the way his shoulders slump with oppressive burden—and he takes pity on the older man. “I’ll wash it real quick while you shower. It’ll be good as new, fresh outta the dryer by the time you're done.” He looks up at Joel, who’s still transfixed in the forgotten token of his former youth, of the man who he used to be. Items he’d left in storage down in Austin that Hank had so graciously shipped to Jackson.
He almost wishes he’d never gotten it all back, it was easier then—to hide from who he was when he wasn’t reminded of his past every single day, but once in a while—that reckless, spotlight chasing cowboy grasps for the surface. And tonight? Tonight is your birthday, the town dance, where you’re going to be, probably looking like something Joel doesn’t have a shot in hell with. It’s your damn birthday and he wants to ask you to dance but he’s not sure the fee quick dance lessons he got will suffice. What if he stumbles? Steps on your pretty little feet? Drops you?
“Joel—“ there's a snap in front of his face and he pulls himself out of the chaos inside of his mind. “Man, you are loosin’ it. I’ve never seen you this wound up over some girl—“ his eyes snap up to his brothers and he huffs lowly. “She ain’t just—some girl. She’s Hank and Lou’s daughter, people I think of as family. She’s smart and resourceful, sometimes a little reckless but she makes me feel like…like I’m alive for once.” Tommy sets the black shirt down and sit on the side of Joel's bed. Beside him, Joel's weight sinks onto the mattress. “M’gettin’ old, Tom. I don’t have a lot of good years left in me and I don’t know if I’ll ever have a opportunity like this again.”
Tommy takes a glance over at the distant look in his brothers eyes. “Opportunity?” Joel's eyes flick over and he sighs. He wishes Tommy had a little bit of what he had built inside of him, the innate goal of settling down, finding where he belongs and who he belongs with.
“At bein’ happy. Good memories for my restless nights.” If he fucked this up and missed his chance, he’s not sure he’ll have it in him again, if it will ever feel like this with anyone else. He thinks he’s done, thinks you’re it. He thinks he could give you forever if you’d let him.
“S’that why you’re so messed up in the head? What, do you think she’s going to shoot you down?” Tommy’s voice picks up in pitch, offense used like a weapon to get his point across and Joel appreciates the gusto. “Think I’m gonna go home alone tonight. Think it’s just gonna be me and the crickets and this damn hand again, dreamin’ bout how damn sweet she is.”
Tommy’s hand reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and he retrieves a silver flask, offering it to his older brother who takes it with unsure fingers. “Just be yourself, man. Walk up to her like you belong there. Just need a little bit of confidence, don’t let her think you’re second guessing yourself. I don’t know her like you do—but I know that girl is more than willing when it comes to you.”
Joel takes a long swig of rot-gut whiskey, lets is sink into his bones and find the will to drag himself into the shower and wash away the saw dust lingering on his skin from the floor of the dance hall, ease some of the soreness in his knees and back from learning how to dance.
When he’s finished, there's a clean shirt and a flask laying on his bed. Joel finishes off the whiskey before he fastens the first button.
Liquid courage is the only thing that gets him to town.
He’s everywhere—everywhere. His hands burn on your thigh, on your hip where they dig in just a little too roughly when he pins you to the wall beside the back door. The second it closed behind you, there was a desperation clinging to the early spring air, perforating the slight chill until it shimmied beneath it and took life in the form of heat dripping across your exposed flesh. It was sticky and hot, sucking you in like a vortex straight to the center of what your world revolved around—Joel Miller and his touch that feels like fire.
He tastes like alcohol and tooth paste and part of you wonders if that’s what's changed about him, why he was so willing to let go of his reservations in-front of half of the town. He’s been drinking, drowning his insecurities enough to throw himself at you bravely.
Will he still be this Joel when you open your eyes in the morning? Will he regret it?
His teeth dig into your bottom lip and your brain goes fuzzy, stars forming behind your closed eyes. Insecurities can wait until tomorrow, you decide. His hips press forward ever so slightly and the outline of his cock can’t go unnoticed, not with the way it makes the fabric of your panties drag against your clit tantalizingly. Behind your closed eyes, the stars morph into crackles of fireworks, filling your senses with bright pleasure and desperate desire to chase those lights into the night.
You hike your legs higher, trying to drag him into the delicious delirium with you. The movement pulls a guttural groan out of the broad cowboy. “Joel—Joel,” you need his hands to leave brands on your skin where they’ve touched you, setting fire to your soul. “I know—fuck, baby, I know.” Is he crumbling like you, throwing himself into this very moment right here? Is he as desperate as you are? Does it feel like a travesty and a triumph? The yearning you’ve endured, for the victory of finally knowing what he feels like when he kisses the breath from your lungs.
It’s more than you know how to articulate—more devastating than you anticipated and yet—it’s still not enough. It won't be enough until his heart beats in time with your own and you feel him wrapped up in your body
His teeth dig into your jaw and your body reacts before you tell it to, searching for the release only he can bring you.
“Touch me, please—please, touch me.”
And suddenly, in the time it takes to flip on a light switch, he’s gluttonous, insatiable and voracious—a wild predator set loose just to turn on its careful handler. The only thing that comes to mind, in comparison, is a pack of wolves frenzied to sink their teeth into the supple flesh of their prey.
In your case—Joel is the starved pack—and you? You are but an unsuspecting doe, practically sacrificing yourself to his uncontrollable famine.
Those thick digits, adorned with callouses earned from laborious work, hastily push aside the fabric of your dress in search of your covered center. He feels so fucking good when those digits push their way past the hem of your panties and he gasps against the shell of your ear. Like it feels just as good to him, letting the pads of his index and middle finger tease the seam of your lips before slipping between and dragging those rough digits over your hardened clit. It’s all the built up want, longing, needing that makes him feel so other-worldly, you’ll never experience something like this, the rush of relief to finally be his.
His fingers dip lower, searching for the source of all this slick adorning his knuckles, when his thumb drags idly over your already sensitive clit. Its like an electric shock straight to your sternum, arching you forward in search of anchorage to this reality altering interaction. There's a hint of alcohol swimming behind your fluttering eyelids, but his shuddering groan is sickeningly sobering. You want to say something, tell him how good he makes you feel, but the words bubble up in your chest and hang in your throat in the form of a silent sob, your mouth hanging open and your toes curling against your shoes.
“There it is, huh? S’what finally gets you quiet? Just needed me to touch your pussy, didn’t you?” Where the hell has this Joel been hiding? He’s never been so vulgar, so vocal and confident in himself. His fingers tease the soft ring at your opening, smearing slick around on his fingers when he leans against your front to press his face against your heaving chest and neck. His fingers plunge in—and your body jerks against his solid form. He lets you shudder and tighten up against him while his thumb moves steadily, never coming off the peak of your nerve—locked on it with such perfected percussion that there is no jerky catch, just steady—drowning pleasure. His rough pant of breath paints your shoulder in sticky warmth and your thighs tighten around him, begging to draw him into your desperation.
“She’s just cryin’ for me, ain’t she, Honey?” His drawl sounds like sweet tea on a hot summer afternoon, like your sight set on the Austin sunset from the seat of an old saddle, driving cattle through tall grass and endless horizons.
Being touched by Joel Miller feels like coming home.
He finds a steady pace, working his fingers in and out, each drag punctuated by the ridges of his knuckles and the rough pads of his finger tips. Just faintly, you can make out the wet sound your sex makes every time he fucks his fingers into you intentionally. Its instantaneous the way heat blooms in your pelvis, knotting up in your stomach until you’re so overwhelmed, you’re trembling in his grip. “She’s so fuckin’ greedy, pretty little cunt needs to be stuffed, don’t she? G’damn, you’re quiverin’—you gonna cum f’me already?” His words are like a dirty secret, never meant to be revealed—knowing exactly what kind of storm that truth would bring. Let the rain pour down, let the thunder crack and the gusts rip the apprehension from your bones—because Joel Miller wants you and you’ve been waiting for this moment for two years.
You’ve imagined this a million times, slipped your fingers between your legs to the mere idea of this revered and dignified southern gentleman—more once you’d put a face to the elusive cowboy. No matter how deeply you lost yourself to your imagination, none of it will ever amount to the way cold brick feels against your exposed back, the way denim jeans ruffs up the insides of your smooth thighs, the way a felt Stetson bumps against your temple when his fingers curl against a spot inside of you no man has ever found, dragging the air from your lungs, robbing your vocal cords of their melody. With your eyes rolled back and your desire strung tight, you manage to string together enough sound to produce words.
“Yes-Yes, Joel—make me cum! Please!”
A third, assured finger slips in right beside the other two and slam forward, sending you spiraling down that one way path towards pure ecstasy. His fingers curl again and his thumb quickens, pushing you up and up until you’re sure you’re about to melt through his finger tips, a weeping puddle at his feet. “That’s it, pretty girl—cum on these fingers, let me feel her squeeze me.”
His command is your saving grace, the final twist that undoes the well wound rope holding you together. A variation of his name rips from your throat and consumes the space around you, invoking a bright euphoria that shrouds every nerve ending you possess. He doesn’t even know what he’s just subjected your body to—a life altering experience that you will never be able to recreate with another person. “S…s’the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” is the only thing your mind conjures up once you’ve come down enough to speak. He’s still holding onto you, slowly slipping his fingers out and letting you down with a satisfied chuckle.
“Wunna taste you,”
How will you handle another assault from that honed attention? How will you ever unsee that unruly tousle of curls between your thighs?
He doesn’t give you long enough to form a protest before he’s rushing you through the parking lot, a determination in his step that you’ve never seen. He’s surpassed the point of antsy when he yanks open the passenger door and finds leverage on your hips to hoist you up, then toss you down on the torn upholstery. You should say something—tell him to slow down before you pass out from the burn of his hands—but fuck you don’t want him to stop, consciousness be damned.
Instead, you watch him set his cowboy hat on the dusty dashboard, the silver trim of the band shimmering with luster in the golden street lamps. He drinks your body in visibly, relishing in every curve and inhale of breath. When his vision finds yours, they are nearly black with desire—his pupils having consumed every inch of bourbony brown. When his big hands find your thighs again, the resistance bleeds away and gives way to insurmountable, greedy hunger.
“C’mere, girl.” The hands on your thighs dig into the flesh, leaving finger shaped dimples in your sensitive skin. “Lemme see that fuckin’ pussy.” Jesus christ.
If your friends could see you now, they’d all laugh at how easy you are, but right now—it’s just you and your cowboy—you’ll never be anything but easy for him.
His hands move with fever, hastily pushing your dress up your hips. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, babygirl. Only word you’ll know is my name when I’m finished with you.” That same ferocious want consumes you, possessing your hands to work on their own accord, helping Joel shimmy your panties down your thighs and over your heels.
You have enough time to register the way he stuffs the black lace into the front pocket of his wranglers before that head of his is forcing its way under your dress. He spreads your legs easily, pushes and pulls with his hands until his mouth seals over your clit, drenching your nervous system in blinding heat.
He’s good, so good at this. His tongue slides through your dripping folds with a tedious, monotonous rhythm. He’s licking for a taste, for his own glutinous thirst based on the way he groans and sighs against the softness of your lips. His eyes flick up at the same time your body starts to quiver, trying to adjust to so much honed desire narrowed in on you. “J-Joel, please don’t st-top.” Your eyes start to leave his in favor of rolling back in your head when your chest arches out, searching for a breath of sobering air, for something to hold onto so you don’t crumble apart. “Feels so good—you feel so good.”
His mouth closes over you and he sucks, pulling your clit against the smoothness of his tongue as he flicks it over and over, soothing the sensitive bud, while actively robbing you of any coherent train of thought. The only sounds that leave your lungs are sharp gasps and whines, fueled by the low groaning sound he’s muffling between your thighs. He releases you and your body reels, drawing in breath after breath to catch up with your racing heart.
“Wunna split this little pussy open on me,”
Oh fuck, oh fuck fuck—fuck.
You have long enough to gaze down at him, watching as he slides the flat of his tongue through your lips, over the sensitive bud, before your head is dipping back again.
“I’ve been practicing—I got, oh, fuck Joel, like that,” you heave and he pulls away completely, shocking you into a mewling, whining mess. “You got what, baby, use your words.”
Your body bares down on nothing, /wish he would just give it up already, unbuckle that belt, push down those wranglers and fuck you like you deserve. Joel grunts while he watches, letting it rumble through his whole body. “Got a toy that’s as big as you so I could practice. So I'd be able to take you.”
His whole demeanor shifts, alternating from this brazen, confident cowboy to the man suddenly lost between your thighs, sucking and slurping, licking and moaning to himself. He’s gutless, starving and desperate, he whimpers when you squeeze your thighs and cry his name, holding on tight until the flash of blue and red and the sound of a loud voice rips him from his mission.
“Jackson Police department, step away from the vehicle!”
Joel rips himself away from your body before you even have a chance to cover yourself. “Fuck-fuck,” he looks around sharply, eying the lone officer in a tan blazer with flashing lights fastened to its hard top. The sheriff has a light in their hand, leaning over the side of the blazer. You manage to pull your dress down and scoot back, trying to hide yourself from the light shining on the two of you.
Joel's gaze falls away from the officer, parked behind the truck, blocking it in. Instead, he looks forward, into the clearing in front of the parking lot, half lit by the street lamp. His jaw clicks and he looks set on whatever is going through that big brain of his. “Put a seat belt on.”
What?
Joel grabs his hat and slides across the bench seat quickly, slamming the door behind him. He makes it across you and throws himself in front of the steering wheel, finding the ignition quickly to turn the keys in the shaft.
The chevy roars to life at the same time that he slams the gear shifter into drive and plows over the parking block. Before you have a chance to register what's happening, the blue pickup is sliding through mud and grass, leaving tire tracks in the field as he cuts through it towards the highway.
“Joel, what in the—fuck!“ you shout, reaching up for the oh-shit handle, while the other hand reaches for the solid form beside you, grasping him by the bicep as he snorts nervously. “Just—calm down for a second, we’ll lose ‘em.”
Your heart races and your nerves radiate through your entire body. You’re a good kid, you’ve never ran from the cops before, never been in trouble for crying out loud. You did your best in school, tried to make your parents proud despite your small side of rebellion. And yet, here you are—trying your best to hang on while he cuts corners and runs stop signs, old alleyways and back roads through the thickets. The truck roars past speed limit signs, loosing rodeo flyers pinned to telephone poles when he slams the gears—orange papers fluttering in the settling dust.
You chance a glance over at the outlaw in the driver's seat while he scans his surroundings like he’s done this before, the rear view mirror and the road ahead never leaving his sight. “What if they catch up to us? I don’t want to get arrested, Joel!”
He snorts, taking another random left and speeding down the street. “Ain’t gonna get arrested, honey. Just trust me.”
Trust him? How could he even ask you that, like that wasn’t what this was all along. You trusted him like you trusted the sun to set and rise again, like you trusted the birds to sing and the rivers to run—you’d trusted Joel with your family’s dream and he never let you down.
Somewhere along the way, you lose the ability to fight off your grin, Joel manages to leave flashing red and blue in a cloud of dust. He cuts through a group of trees leading into a clearing and shuts off the lights. He drives by moonlight, effectively covering his tracks and making his way onto another road, leading up the mountain towards the ranch. He pulls off another dirt road that is cut out along the side of the hill, but he isn’t in as much of a hurry as he was before. He takes a last left, bringing the truck to the edge of the hillside that overlooks the entire town of jackson—from the dance hall—to the bar—to the red and blue set of lights on the south side of town, still looking for you and your cowboy.
The world grants you a few silent moments to catch your breath, before it completely robs you of tingling in your muscles, the conscious connection between the two of you. The reality of being truly alone with him is sobering, with nothing but the trees and the wildlife to offer a distraction.
Now that the air has cooled and your heart has finished pounding in your ears, you can make out the faint hum of the stereo, the FM dial lit up by the soft glow behind it. The station is still the same as it was when you were a girl, riding in your daddy’s pickup, playing old country music like it did in the days of your youth.
Now, it rings in your ears with the nerves seeping into your bones, settling into an uncomfortable dust. Right now, of all times? Anxiety has to claw up your chest and wrap around your throat while his saliva is still drying on the inside of your thighs?
Fuck, his beard is still glistening in the green-glow of the stereo.
“You’re starin’ at me.” He says almost quietly. You expected him to tease and flirt, maybe boast, but his voice waivers halfway through and you start to pick up on his slight nerve. Under all that charm and intensity is starting to give way to a much more vulnerable Joel—a man you know all too well.
“You’re just, uh—“ you swallow thickly and try to find the courage to meet his deep brown eyes. “Your beard is…wet.” When you do find his irises, his mouth picks up in a half smirk. If he’s as scared as you are right now, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. He’s giving it everything he’s got to hide it from you.
It’s been so long and you need this. Need to be touched, appreciated, worshipped.
The look in his eyes tells you that he’s eager to kneel.
“And who’s fault is that, hmm?” That sweet, sultry accent drags you in, sliding closer on the seat until you're nearly tucked into his side, leaned back against the seat while he looms over you. He’s still nervous, you can see it floating around in his dark eyes, but his jaw clicks like he’s trying to rein something in.
Silence falls upon you once more, but unbeknownst to the cicadas and the crickets, your dancing gazes say everything you need to hear. His eyes drop to your lips and yours to his. His tongue peaks out unconsciously, wetting his bottom lip ever so slightly—like he’s tasting you there.
His mouth clicks shut and it's then that you glance up. His eyes are back on yours, suddenly so much softer with a lulled arch to his eyebrows. In the depths of his eyes you find renewed hunger, fire burning in those pools of smooth chocolate. Your body relaxes, succumbs to the form of his plains of muscles adorning his body. When you tilt your head up to him in offering, you sink so deeply into those dark pools you can nearly taste the sweetness of him like velvety candy melting against your taste buds.
“Joel—“ you choke out, deciding then that if he waits a second longer you’ll suffocate.
There's things about this life that can never be stopped, inexorable phenomenons that are unavoidable. The seasons will always change. The storms will always come, lightning will always strike. The days will always end and the sun will rise again on the next.
And Joel Miller will always, always break when you say his name like that.
He falls into you with a sharp intake of breath, crashing his mouth against yours with surprising accuracy. It’s so easy to let him take over with the perfect combination of rush and savor he puts into the way he envelops you. His mouth is soft, but persistent, wrapping around your bottom lip when he sucks it between his teeth for a soft bite that makes you want to live in this moment forever.
You nearly do because you get absolutely lost in kissing him, you don’t protest when he leans you back on the bench seat, you don’t put up any sort of fight when he spreads your thighs with his wide hips. When his hands grip your knees, you know you’re completely done for.
He pulls away from your mouth and his eyes find yours in the low green glow and there, you find everything you’ve ever longed for.
“I…I think,” Joel shifts, looking down at his hands like he’s just woken up from sleep walking straight into your heart and soul. “I think I should get you home, s’gettin late.”
Late? Your poor muddled brain cannot keep up with how quickly he fades in and out of doing anything to have you, to be terrified to touch you. How quickly he slips into a starved desire to shaking in his boots.
Not for the first time, you wish you could reach right into his brain and pull out whatever it is that makes him think you don’t want those rough hands all over your bare body. He’s already had a taste of you, already kissed you—what more could be standing in his way?
“Home? Joel, we were just getting started—“ he clears his throat and sits up, trying to slide away from you but your heels dig into his tailbone and drag him back. “Started down a road we both know only leads to nothing but trouble and regret.”
What, the, fuck?
“I’m—you think this is a bad idea?”
The uncomfortable air settles back in between you and your legs around him loosen. “Think you're going to realize really quickly this ain’t what you want and this—I’ve got…too much on the line.”
He has too much on the line? What about the ranch? Your childhood home about to be lost to the bank? What about the dance hall where he’s built a new floor to make you smile? Does it all wash away with his assumed doom?
“What are you saying? This…this was a mistake? Joel I still have your fucking spit drying on my pussy and you—you regretted it already?” The realization feels like a dull blade straight to your gut, forcing it way in and twisting you from the inside out. It burns with shame and agony and you pull yourself out from under his sturdy build.
“I didn’t mean—I regret anything, fuck knows I don’t—“ no, no. You’ve given this man so much of yourself, committed so much to be thrown around and have your feelings stomped on.
“Then what the fuck does it mean, Joel! You—you made me cum while telling me you wanted to stuff my cunt but now you think this is…” you have a realization then, that maybe—just maybe, he does actually regret it. What does he think, you’d turn around and throw him out on his ass? If he truly thinks that low of you then maybe…
“This was a big fucking mistake.” You say coldly, making up your mind as you right your bunched up dress and adjust your fixed gaze on the passenger side window.
“Take me home.” It’s not a request.
It’s not an invitation, either, Joel understands as he watches you close the front door behind you later that night, settling his made up mind.
He presses his palm to his crotch twice and comes in his pants right there in the driveway, just like he knew he was going to.
And he feels like a fucking fool.
#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#the last of us#joel the last of us#joel tlou#archive of our own#cowboy!joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller smut
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Your Little Secret
Pairing: Misha Collins x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~2.7k
Warnings: 19 year age gap, implied smut
Request by @jessicalynnann: Jordan.!!! I need me a good happy story… with some angst and smut well because it is me lol. How about one where Misha is your dad’s best friend and he is attracted to you and he shouldn’t be and one night he comes over to check on you cause your parents are away and walks in on you and a guy and gets jealous and then he throws him out so sexy time ensues.
Summary: You come home for the summer after your first year in college. Everyone looks different, the farm is different, the town is different and Misha Collins is definitely different. Older men are what get you going, and you're going to make it a goal this summer to get as much as Misha Collins as you can.
Square Filled: "you weren't supposed to hear that" (2023) for @spnaubingo
Author’s Note: in this fic, Misha is 41 and you're 22
x
After a year in college, you’re back home for summer break. As much as you loved dorm life with your friends, you miss the farm life back home. Your dad owns a really big farm with lots of animals that he uses to make money off of. He sells the cow’s milk, the chicken’s eggs, and the sheep’s wool while still upholding the value of the property. He has a section of land for vegetables that he grows but he mostly keeps that for himself.
You’re staying with him for the entire summer which is the best time to be on the farm. In the winter, the snow ruins almost everything about it so the summer is the perfect time to get a lot of shit done.
Once you get your luggage from baggage claim, you make your way over to the pickup section of the airport, waiting for your ride. When you see your dad’s beaten old pickup truck, you make your way over to him. Instead of him getting out, your older brother does with a crooked smile.
“Y/N!”
“Mason!”
You drop your luggage and run into his arms for a big hug. You haven’t seen him in years since he went off to college on the other side of the country. At least you stayed a bit closer to your home. He graduated not long ago and decided to move back home to help out with the family.
“How’s college life treating you?”
“It’s only the first year. I got a dorm next year with the friends I made this year so that’s good.”
“Awesome. Man, you won’t believe what’s been happening in this town,” he chuckles.
He grabs your luggage and heaves it into the trunk. You both get in the car and off you go back home.
“Alright, spill it. What did I miss?”
“Dad is doing more volunteer work, your old high school teacher, Ms. Bromwell got arrested for fooling around with her senior students, we got a new mayor, and Mom has the hots for the new Pastor.”
“Of course, she does,” you laugh. Ever since she got divorced from Dad, she’s been moving around town in not the best way. Still, you love her to pieces. “Glad to be home.”
“Oh, and Misha is back in town.”
Your entire body goes still at the mention of his name.
“How is he doing?”
“He’s alright, I guess,” Mason shrugs.
Misha is your dad’s best friend who grew up only a few doors down from you. He was always present at every birthday party, every time you snuck out of the house, when you first got your license, when you got ready for Prom, and when you graduated high school. When you got to that age when you started caring how you look for boys’ attention, you were really getting dolled up for him. You have had a major crush on him for years now but you were too young to do something about it.
He is nineteen years older than you but you don’t care. You’re fresh in college, you’re not a little girl anymore, and you know what you want. You want Misha and you’re going to make it your goal to get him this summer, even if it only lasts a couple of months. He might see you as a child and as his best friend’s daughter but you’re going to change that soon enough.
Mason reaches the house in record time and helps bring in your bags.
“Dad! We’re home,” he announces.
“Y/N!” your dad greets you and brings you in for a hug. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
“Glad to be home, Dad,” you smile.
“You remember Misha, right?”
You turn to face him and your mouth actually goes dry. Damn, he looks good. Seeing him is sending tingles up and down your body that you shouldn’t have for your dad’s best friend. He smiles and that almost makes you melt right there.
“Y/N, it’s been a long time.”
He brings you in for a hug and all your senses are filled with him. His cologne is making your head dizzy and you can feel his muscles underneath his clothes.
“Yeah, it has,” you chuckle.
“Do you need help unpacking?”
“No, I got it,” you quickly say and pull away from him. “Thank you, though.”
You grab your bag and immediately head upstairs before you make a fool out of yourself. He watches you walk up the stairs with a controlled look on his face. There is no way he is going to give away what he’s thinking.
The day you came in was a day for relaxing, but the next morning is when your contribution begins. You wake up right as the sun is peeking over the horizon and get dressed in short coveralls and a sports bra. You tie your hair into a messy bun and grab a woven basket before heading out to the chicken coops.
Most of the hens have laid eggs that you collect without issue. There are a few with attitudes but you know how to handle them. It doesn’t matter how long you spend away from home, the work is engraved in your head. You bend down to collect some more eggs when you hear someone shuffle against the wood chips behind you, and you gasp while turning around.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Misha chuckles.
“What are you doing up?”
“Same as you.”
“You wanted to get the eggs from the chickens, too?”
“Okay,” Misha chuckles, “maybe not the same reason.” You smile at him and move on to the hens on the other side of the coop. “So, how is college going?”
“So far so good. I got a dorm with my friends next year so that’s good. Classes are great.”
“Meet anyone over there?”
“You mean like a boyfriend?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he nods.
Is he fishing for information? What if you say yes? Are you going to make him jealous? This is a good opportunity to mess with him but you resist. It’s too early in your relationship to make such bold decisions. For now, you keep it safe.
“No. I’m not into men my age. I like them older,” you flirt subtly.
“I see,” he nods.
“So, tell me something, you’re well off with money. Why are you still in this town? The people stay here because they can’t go anywhere else.”
“Your dad is well off but he stays.”
“He’s been in this town for decades. He can’t leave,” you chuckle.
“Same here. I grew up here.” You raise an eyebrow and he laughs. “I don’t know. I feel like there is something here for me still. Maybe someone.”
“Is that your way of telling me you’re single?”
“Maybe.”
“I see,” you copy his response.
You finish grabbing all the eggs and bring them inside with Misha. It’s time for breakfast now because your dad and Mason are going to be up soon. There are dozens of eggs so what better way than to make some omelettes with some of the fresh vegetables from the farm?
One of your favorite apps these days is Tik Tok which your best friend introduced you to. It has all sorts of videos that can keep you entertained for hours, and some of your favorite videos to watch are prank videos. One of the ones going around is where someone is cooking eggs and decides to crack one on someone’s head instead of doing it on the counter or the side of a pan.
You look at Misha who is washing his hands with a smirk. You grab twelve eggs to cook with and set the rest of them off to the side. You take one of the eggs and swiftly crack the egg on Misha’s forehead. He flinches from shock and you hold in your giggle as you pour the egg into the pan.
You grab another egg to do it again but Misha is quick on his feet. He moves out of the way and wipes the egg whites that you left on his skin. He reaches out to touch you but you squeal and move out of the way.
“This isn’t how this works!” you laugh.
Misha grabs your waist and pulls you into him, and he teases you by hovering his slimy hands above your face. You squirm to get away from him but end up moving your body closer to him. You turn to face him and lock eyes. He looks down briefly before something changes in his body language and in his eyes. He clears his throat and steps away from you to put some distance between you two.
“I should get going.”
“Why? Breakfast hasn’t even started yet.”
“I got stuff to do.”
“Stuff?”
Just then, your dad comes jogging down the stairs because you know he smelled the eggs cooking.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” your dad asks and grabs water from the fridge.
“Helping Y/N out but I’m leaving now.”
Misha washes his hands and leaves without another word. You watch him leave with a frown as you rake your brain to figure out where things took a turn.
A few days later, your dad wanted to have a barbecue for everyone in town at the farm. He has the biggest property in town so it makes sense to turn the farm into something the entire town can enjoy. Almost everyone from town is in your backyard, and your dad sets up games for the kids to play, a small bar with a keg of beer for the adults, and lots of good food. The one job he gave you was to keep the keg stocked with beer but the one he has must have the nozzle broken because it’s not dispensing beer correctly.
Misha shows up expecting to have a good time when he spots you bent over the keg wearing short shorts and an almost see-through tank top. He clenches his jaw in frustration and storms over to you. You’re too busy to see him heading your way, and you yank the nozzle the wrong way because beer sprays all over your shirt.
“Shit,” you gasp and jump back.
Beer flows out of the nozzle so you quickly turn it off before any more goes to waste. You grab the ends of your shirt to take it off when Misha grabs your elbow.
“What the hell?”
“What? I got beer on myself.”
“Taking off your shirt with children around is inappropriate.”
“It’s not like I’ll be showing my boobs to everyone. I have a sports bra underneath this.”
“Here.” He sheds off his jacket and gives it to you to wear. “Go inside and change.”
“Yes, sir,” you say sarcastically and walk away from him.
Misha resists the urge to grab you and punish you for your bratty attitude. You’re not sure what has gotten into him these last couple of days because he’s been angry with you. You’ve tried flirting with him but nothing has come of it and you’re not one of those girls to just wait around for a guy. If he doesn’t want you, there are plenty of other men who do. There was a young man at the barbecue that you connected with and kept in touch with after the event was over.
Your dad is going to be out of town for a couple of days with your brother which means you have the house to yourself. What better way to spend your time than with the new guy you met? Misha has mixed feelings about you because you’re his best friend’s daughter. You’re unsponkingly off limits. If Jensen knew the kind of thoughts he was having about his daughter, he would kill him for sure.
Maybe if he talks to you, he can understand what he’s feeling and figure out what to do about it. He walks over to your house and uses the key Jensen gave him for emergencies only. He has to check on you anyway per Jensen’s request so he doesn’t think much when he walks inside your house. It’s usually quiet until he hears something that makes all his blood go straight to his cock.
You are moaning upstairs.
The thing that pisses him off is he hears a man moan right after you. He should just leave but he rushes upstairs with the intent of ruining your evening. He doesn’t mean to be an asshole but he’s thinking with his downstairs brain and not his upstairs one. He practically busts down the door to see the guy you met naked on top of you.
“What the fuck!” you gasp and push the man off you.
Misha is too pissed to see that you’re fully naked in front of him.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The guy you’re with stutters since he’s too scared by Misha’s presence. “Get the hell out of here.”
The guy gathers his clothes and rushes out of the room, and you pull your robe on to give you some sort of decency.
“What the hell are you doing here? Why did you run him off?” you gasp in anger.
“You know, when your dad asked me to check on you while he was away, I’d figure I see you in here drinking, maybe smoking some weed, not fucking some boy you just met.”
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“Yeah, well, I did.”
“You thought it was okay to come here close to the middle of the fucking night? You couldn’t have waited until morning?”
“I’m not going to let my best friend’s daughter get pregnant by some kid she doesn’t know.”
“I have condoms.”
“It’s irresponsible.”
“Why do you even care what goes on in my bedroom? It’s not like you’re in it,” you cross your arms.
If you’re going to do this, may as well go all out. Misha chuckles but it’s not an amused chuckle, it’s a dark chuckle like you better watch what you say next or he’ll punish you.
“You wouldn’t be able to handle me.”
The laugh you give is almost an amused one.
“An old guy like you? The only thing I won’t be able to handle is how short it’ll be. Wouldn’t want to throw out your back, now would we?”
Misha’s smirk is lost as he stalks towards you. You back up but are stopped by the dresser.
“Sweetheart, I’d ruin other men for you.”
“Oh yeah? Prove it.” Misha looks like he wants to but listens to the rational part of his brain. He shakes his head and starts to walk away from you. “That’s what I thought.” You scoff. “I want you to leave because I have a date with my vibrator which has batteries that will last longer than you.”
Misha snaps and turns so quickly that you don’t have time to react. He grabs your waist and tosses you onto the bed causing your robe to open enough to show your breasts. He looks down at your chest and reaches out to touch one of your breasts but resists at the last second.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” you whisper.
“I’m nineteen years older than you.”
“And?”
“You’re my best friend’s daughter.”
“And?” you chuckle.
Misha stares into your eyes to see if you mean what you say. When he doesn’t see a shred of regret he leans down and kisses you. He reaches into your robe and palms your breasts before allowing you to shred the piece of clothing. It’s passionate. It’s sensual. It’s intimate. It’s everything you want and more. He’s so much different than anyone you’ve ever been with. He takes care of you three times before he even thinks about himself; once on his tongue, once on his fingers, and once more on his cock.
It’s hours before you’re done and you pant heavily next to him.
“Yeah, you have ruined other men for me,” you laugh.
“You can’t tell your dad about this. He’d murdered me.”
“Eh, I don’t tell him a lot of things anyway.”
You lean over and kiss him again, ready for a round two.
x
Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)
#misha collins#misha collins x reader#misha collins fic#misha collins fanfiction#misha collins fanfic#misha collins fluff#misha collins angst#misha collins smut#misha collins fiction#misha collins fan fiction#misha collins fan fic#supernatural#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fluff#supernatural angst#supernatural smut#spn#spn fic#spn fanfiction#spn fanfic#spn fluff#spn angst#spn smut
115 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃’𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐄.
Zhongli, Itto, Childe & Diluc x fem!reader
CW: smut, a smidge of angst [hence the title], v. penetration, a big use of ‘little one’, names; sweetie, little one, a couple creampies, oral [m. receiving & f. receiving.], cum eating, hair pulling, one mention of spanking, implications of jealousy,
Heyo!! This is my work for the lovely sweet & spice event collab that @bluexiao and @anantaru are hosting! I’m very happy to be a part of this one!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | event m.list | my m.list
𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈
secretly doesn’t mean it. he says it when he’s having one of those rage moments he tends to have often. he doesn’t mean it when he slams you into the wall, his golden eyes burning into yours, his hands holding your hips forwards against the thigh he’s put between your legs. how he would be so mean but brush hair behind your ear, ‘you know it wouldn’t been better if you stayed away from me, you know that?’
even when he pushed away from you, continuing to walk down the hall he felt such guilt. but later that evening, when you slipped into his long coat that he’d left laying abandoned on a dining hall table, nothing under it then made your way into his private chambers, he couldn’t stay mad. you’d be on top of him, rocking your hips down against his cock as he’d be lightly bucking his up into you, letting his pretty, golden pubes grind and tickle your clit and thighs. ‘i can’t seem to stay mad at you.. especially when you pull little escapades like this, little one..’ oh how he would curse under this breath before laying down against the blankets, using his hands to continue your movements as you bounced on top of him, sliding his cock in and out, watching how it glistens as you get wetter and wetter with each thrust. ‘my dear.. where did all this come from? was i not scolding you hours ago? oh.. you liked it didn’t you.’ a deep, gravely chuckle would erupt from his throat, sending chills down your spine, just as he would grab at your hips to hold you down and still from moving. his entire cock sheathed balls deep inside you, stopped so he can feel you desperately trying to move and gain friction, he laughed again at the feeling of you clenching uncontrollably. ‘yeah you did..’
𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎
now listen, you were out on a walk on some trail in the deep forests of Inazuma and in your defense, you didn’t hear Itto behind you. truth be told, he’d been following you for some time, watching as you bent down in that dress.. to smell some flowers, touch the water of a pond or try to play with a small animal on the ground. but of course, he would make it all about him. ‘hey!’ his voice would scare you, causing you to jump a little. your back would press against a tree, wanting to turn around and run when you saw him but part of you was telling you to stay and see what he would do. ‘what are you doing out here all alone, little one?’ he wasn’t as scary as you remember him being, since you hadn’t seen him for years and years, he wasn’t a big as you remembered. taking a deep breath, you speak up. ‘why were you following me?’ you’d ask, watching his lil fangs show through that pretty smirk.. he’d laugh. ‘me?! following you!? HA! now sweetie, i thought i told you to stay away from me?’ hed walk closer, your hands placed on the tree right behind your back seemingly digging into the bark as he got so close his forehead might of well have been pressed against yours. he can tell by the way your eyes are blown wide and breath has hitched in your throat that you’re nervous. he’d bend down even more, the tip of his nose just barely brushing against yours. ‘have you got a little crush on me? hm?’ the way he would condescendingly shake his head while laughing, before placing his hands on the tree next to your head. ‘you do. then why haven’t you done something about it? hm little one? cant speak now?’ and just like that, in mere moments later Arataki Itto would have you pressed against the tree, on your knees while you kitten licked the tip of his thick cock, resisting the urge to press his hips forward and watch your eyes roll back as you gag on his length. ‘oh that’s it.. ya.. right there sweetie.. fffuuuck-’ his long nails would dig lightly into the back of your head, wanting you to take more into your mouth as his cock starts to twitch, but you just continue teasing the head. ‘little one.. look up here.’ his jaw would drop as he sees your mouth filled to the brim with his thick seed. ‘fuck it.. we need to act like i hate you, but look at me cutie, i don’t hate you. god i love this fucking mouth.. come with me tonight..’
𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄
you’d always see him standing at the front of that bank, and yes he was extremely feared but it only grew your interest in him. and that’s why on that one night, you climbed out of your bedroom window, crossing the city and climbing some stairs before seeing him leaning against a railing talking to another, larger man. you peeked around the counter just as he looked past the man, spotting you with that look on his face, the one where he knew you weren’t supposed to be there and he loved it. he turned to the man again and looked as if he were saying goodbye. you turned the corner and started racing down the stairs as he starts chasing after you. the thrill of having his man running after you send a chill down your spine, but also a swarm of butterflies. you’d only spoken to him once, and it didn’t entirely go the best. ‘stop!’ he’d call out, making you turn your head to see him slowing his pace, turning into a walk. you did the same. ‘come here.’ hesitantly, you approached the man, that thrill still ringing throughout your body. and look at that? approaching the man has gotten you here, between the back of a building and the wall of rock that surrounds the city. he has you bent over, hands running up and down your spine as his hips rhythmically slap into yours, his balls slapping your clit and it sends a shock up your body each each slap. ‘oh yeah.. shit.. when i told you not to come near me.. or even look at me, this is where it would get you- fuck- and this is where we are. if you’d just been a good girl..’ he’d pause for a moment, pulling all the way out before grabbing your hair to pull you up, your back pressed against the slightly open shirt that’s covering his body. ‘you wouldn’t have me here like this.. but oh you love it don’t you? you fucking love the thrill of having me, one of the most feared of the Harbingers.. using your sweet pussy huh?’ he’d pull your head back more, arching your back so you could look back at him, that look in your eyes that makes his tummy churn. ‘yeah you fucking love this..’ he’d bring a hand back down, using it to push himself back inside you. as if he knew, he clamped a hand down over your mouth to keep you silent. it was hardly fair though, with how much he was grunting about how much he loved your sweet cunt, about how good it must feel to have his hot cum dripping out of you, leaking past your clit and onto your thighs, ultimately sliding down your legs as he drops your nightgown before pulling you into his arms. an oddly sweet gesture coming from the feared man, but quickly changes as he whispers, ‘it would’ve been better if you’d stayed away from me.. yeah?’
𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂
‘it would’ve been better if you’d just done as i said and stayed away from me for a while.’ you didn’t care. and truthfully, you didn’t know how it happened so quick. one day, the two of you were happily in love, sharing different experiences together, and he next his hatred is burning for you. was it perhaps he caught kaeya flirting with you? or was it when he saw you with your hand on the 11th Harbingers chest. either way, his mind was changed. pretty bitter of him, how cold he can turn so fast. but still.. all of that and here he is, still devouring your dripping cunt as if the two of you were still in love. you loved how his tongue was flicking against you, moving down to dive deep inside and pull out again. his words still floated around your mind.. how could he tell YOU to stay away from him when he knows he’s overreacting? doesn’t matter now.. what matters now and how he’s using his gloved thumb to spread your wetness across your thighs, looking up at you and the way your tits move with your movements. doesn’t matter really, you can tell by the end of this things will go back to the way they were before. often times, diluc will have a fit like this, a jealous fit in which he sees someone with you and then lashes out. you were tugging at his soft, red hair, pulling it until the hair tie came out, letting his hair fall past his shoulders and onto your thighs, tickling them and he didn’t care one bit. ‘i’m sorry.. i’m so sorry. i’m sorry for-’ a kiss to your clit. ‘acting like that.. i know your never do anything to disobey me, sweetheart.’ another softer kiss to your clit. oh but how fast is he able to get up onto his knees, pull your thighs over his to align his cock with your absolutely puffed and sensitive cunt? like that. ‘let me show you i’m not mad.’ and just like that, he would shove every inch deep inside you. despite that crazed, angry look upon his face, he isn’t going nearly as hard as you expected. he would drop his gaze, watching his abs flex as he pushes his hips forward and backwards from you, seeing that ring of cream start to gather at his base. he just couldn’t stay mad at you for long. he’d bring a hand up to your mouth, letting your teeth catch at his glove before telling you to leave it in your mouth, using that hand to start rub small circles on your clit, little tight ones that he knew would send you over within seconds. ‘dear.. heavens.. yeah just like that..’ he spoke out as you started bucking your hips up gently, rocking on and off of him. the sensation of you cumming around him sends him over, he’d hold tightly onto your thighs as he’d begin to twitch violently inside you. the pretty moans he would have, finally cumming after being pent up for the last few days. as he pulls out, he kisses your tummy, rubs his hand softly on your hips and helps pull you down. and of course, his eyes wouldn’t help but stay on where he was leaking out of you..
tagging @paradisdementor @soaringmirror @rowsn @p-antomime
MYARLERT©2022 — all right reserved. do not replicate, copy, reshare, or profit off my writing on any platform. — 18+. minors do not interact.
#my writing#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#zhongli smut#zhongli thirst#zhongli x reader#itto smut#itto thirst#itto x reader#childe smut#childe thirst#childe x reader#diluc smut#diluc thirst#diluc x reader#bloru.sweetnspice
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Single Hearts - Part 2 Introductions
Summary- Jack and Sage see each other for the second time at their kid's school concert, where Jack remembers to introduce himself this time.
As soon as Jack got home and put Melody to bed, he had one goal, to somehow find Sage. He looked at the tagged location of the amusement park, hoping that maybe she had posted something, but she didn’t. Was it a little stalkerish? Yes. But Jack didn’t intend to be a stalker, he just hadn’t felt the way that he felt when he was talking to Sage about anyone else. Even the few girls that he had gone on dates with since his divorce.
The next afternoon Penelope was picking up Melody from Jack’s house. Even though she had a key to Jack’s house, she still knocked.
“Melody, you’re Mom’s here, do you want to open the door?” Jack asked, Melody nodded, getting up from the couch and running to the front door.
“Mommy!!” Melody yelled, reaching up to hug Penelope’s waist.
“Hi Mel, did you have fun yesterday?” Penelope asked and Melody nodded excitedly.
“Yeah!! Look at what Daddy won me!” Melody ran to the living room and Penelope followed her as Melody picked up a teddy bear.
“Woah, that’s so cool!” Penelope smiled, greeting Jack as she walked in.
“And Daddy met a girl!” Melody said. After Sage and Charlotte walked away, Melody asked who Sage was, but Jack had no answer.
“Oh, he did?” Penelope asked Melody. “Like a girl or a fan?” Penelope asked Jack, sitting down on the couch. Jack couldn’t stop the blush that appeared on his cheeks.
“Well, both, but the girl Melody’s talking about didn’t know who I was, or at least I don’t think she did.”
“What was her name?” Penelope asked Jack.
“I forgot to get her name or number,” Jack said quickly and quietly.
“You forgot?” Penelope asked, looking at Jack. “I knew you were bad at picking up girls, but I didn’t realize you were that bad,” she teased. Melody was back to playing with her Barbies on the living room floor.
“Hey, I got you to not only date me, but I got you to marry me, so I had to have done something right.”
“I might have married you, but it certainly was not because of your pickup lines,” She teased again. “She could have been the love of your life, but you forgot to get her name.”
“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” Jack asked, laughing softly.
“Nope,” Penelope giggled. “Ready to go Melody?” Penelope asked as she stood up from the couch.
“Can I bring my new stuffed animal and my Barbies?” Melody asked and Penelope nodded.
“Yeah, go get a bag to carry them in,” Penelope said, Melody ran to her room.
“Don’t forget about Melody’s school concert on Friday. I know you haven’t forgotten before, but, I just wanted to remind you,” Penelope said.
“I’ll be there. I’m picking her up from school after right?” Jack asked to confirm.
“Yeah.”
“Can I pick her up Wednesday too? I’ll bring her to school on Thursday.”
“Yeah, I don’t mind,” Penelope said as Melody ran out of her room with her bag, putting her stuffed animal and Barbies inside. Melody walked over to Jack and Penelope, Jack picked her up.
“Be good for your Mom, I’m going to come pick you up from school on Wednesday, okay?” Jack asked and Melody nodded excitedly.
“Yay! Can we have a movie night?”
“Maybe, you still have to go to school the next day. I’ll call you before you go to bed to say goodnight and then you can tell me all about your day,” Jack said, kissing Melody on the cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too Daddy,” Melody said, kissing his cheek before he put her down.
It never got easier for Jack or Penelope to say goodbye to Melody. The hardest part of their divorce was being unable to be with their daughter all the time.
Jack and Penelope showed up at Melody’s school on Friday together for her school concert. Every year Melody’s elementary school had two separate school concerts. One was for kindergarten through second grade, and the second was for third through fifth.
Jack and Penelope found seats in the crowded room. They stopped a couple of times to talk to other parents. Jack and Melody made small talk until the show started.
As soon as the kindergarten class was led out on stage, Jack swore he saw the daughter of the woman he met at the theme park. The chances that their daughters went to the same school were slim and Jack knew that. Jack quickly scanned the room but because of how the seats were set up he didn’t see Sage. Jack sighed softly as he leaned back in his seat.
“Are you looking for someone?” Penelope asked after the kindergarten class was walked off stage. Jack shook his head.
“No, I thought I might have seen the daughter of the girl I met the other day, but I don’t know for sure,” Jack said.
They watched as the first-grade class did their performance, then the second-grade class which included their daughter.
After about an hour and a half of watching kids sing off-key and out of time, they were children so it was still cute.
Since the concert was towards the end of the day, most parents decided to check their kids out for the day. Sage was one of those parents. Everyone crowded the exit and Sage decided to stay back for a few minutes until it cleared out.
“Holy fuck,” Jack muttered under his breath as his eyes landed on Sage who was standing on the opposite side of the room.
“Jack, you can’t curse in a school,” Penelope said. “But what?”
“That’s the woman I met the other day.”
“Oh my god. You have to go talk to her,” Penelope said. “This is like some stereotypical fan fiction where the guy gets a second chance after he does something stupid and forgets any way to contact her. And then they fall in love and get married. Happily ever after type shit,” Penelope looked in the direction that Jack was.
“Don’t make it obvious you’re looking. I’m nervous, maybe she won’t see me,” Jack said.
“You’re six foot three, be real, everyone can see you, you aren’t hiding anywhere,” Penelope teased.
“I can’t just go up to her. What would I even say?” Jack asked. He never thought that he would see her again so he was nervous.
“Just go up and introduce yourself,” Penelope said. “If you don’t I’ll go be your wing women and do it for you.”
“I never thought my ex-wife would be so adamant that I go introduce myself to another woman,” Jack muttered.
“Well for one, we both agreed to end the marriage. Two, I can tell just by the fact that you got so nervous you forgot something so simple as getting her name, that you like her,” she said.
Jack looked towards the other side of the room where Sage was standing. Charlotte ran up to her mom, Sage picked her up and placed her on her hip. Jack could tell just by the way Charlotte was smiling and giggling that Sage was telling her how good she did and how proud she was of Sage.
“Go before she leaves.”
“Okay,” Jack sighed softly before starting to walk away.
“And don’t forget to get her name this time,” Penelope joked, if there weren’t children around, Jack would have flipped her off.
Jack slowly made it across the room, trying to think of what he wanted to say, but the second he reached Sage, his mind went blank.
“Hi, I’m Jack. I believe we met at the Six Flags the other day. Well, it’s Kentucky Kindom now, but I always still call it Six Flags. I don’t know why I said that. Um, anyways, I just wanted to introduce myself, since I didn’t then,” Jack rambled on, Sage giggled softly.
“I’m Sage, it’s nice to know your name,” Sage joked.
“I’m Charlotte!” The little girl in Sage’s arms introduced herself happily.
“You did amazing on stage Charlotte!” Jack said and Charlotte smiled but hid her face in Sage’s neck.
“She’s shy,” Sage said, rubbing her back.
“It’s okay,” Jack smiled at Sage. “I was wondering if maybe I could get your number or something.” Jack paused before getting nervous again. “Maybe we could get our kids together for a playdate or something.”
Sage couldn’t help but be disappointed that he only mentioned a playdate between their kids, but she nodded anyway.
“Yeah, I think Charlotte would like that, wouldn’t you?” Sage asked Charlotte, she looked up before nodding.
“I like playdates,” Charlotte said before Jack and Sage gave each other their numbers. Penelope and Melody walked over to Jack.
“Hi princess, you did amazing, I’m so proud of you,” Jack said, picking up Melody to hug her. Melody giggled.
“Thank you,” Melody smiled. “Can we go get ice cream like you promised?”
“Of course.”
“Can Mommy come?” Melody asked Jack, Jack nodded.
“Sure, if she doesn’t have something else to do,” Jack told Melody and Melody looked to Penelope.
“Mommy, come get ice cream with us!”
“Okay, I’ll join,” Penelope smiled at Melody and Jack before turning to Sage. “Sorry about Melody interrupting you guys she wanted to see her dad.”
“Oh that’s completely okay, she can interrupt anytime she wants, especially if it’s to see her dad,” Sage smiled. “I’m Sage by the way.”
“I’m Penelope, it’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you too. Charlotte and I will let you all go have your ice cream date, Penelope, I gave Jack my number but either of you can text or call me and we can try and set up that playdate.” Sage smiled at the three of them before they all said goodbye and Sage and Charlotte walked away, on to their own little celebration.
“Did she just say playdate?” Penelope asked, turning to Jack.
“I got nervous,” Jack admitted.
“At least you got her name and number this time.”
Tag list @jackharloww @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @hoodharlow @itsyagirljaz @heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @awhore4moree @harlowslefttoe @twerkforambrose @jackmans-poison @ilovenudy @taniapri @killatravtramp @easternparkway @macey234 @toocriticalharlow @lightsoutstyles @rachxc13 @iknowdatsrightbih @idktbh101 @blossomluvv @middlechild404 @hufflewhore128
105 notes
·
View notes
Text
never a god (mysterious lotus casebook, post-canon, genderfluid li lianhua)
@difeisheng is a filthy enabler and my mum told me to tell them i can't have discord sleepovers with them anymore. they're also writing a ficlet in the same series and i'll link to it in this post when it's up!
*
The evening shift at the House of Scarlet Delights starts out just like any other. Li Xianghua wakes late in the afternoon, eats at the long table in the kitchen with the others, crowded in amongst girls still in sleep-clothes and others already fully made up for the night’s work, hair ornaments shimmering against each other like enamelled butterflies. Li Xianghua is tired, but it’s a familiar kind of tired. Still, he keeps his head down and eats. He inhales porridge with ginger and chili oil and lets his brain meander; painless, like floating. His body aches.
“Huahua,” Xiao-mei asks, startling him. “Sorry! Huahua, do you have a comb I can borrow?”
Her eyes are huge and pleading, round like a little animal’s. All of Xiao-mei is round to match, small and plump and plush with a matching mouth, and wildly, wildly popular with customers. She makes herself very hard to resist. Even as she speaks, she is always reaching out, twining some of Li Xianghua’s hair around her fingers. Against the fresh pink of them - Xiao-mei is barely twenty - the cold brittle white of his hair, like frost on an immortal’s mountain, is stark. Not for the first time, Li Xianghua feels old around her. Had he been so bright back then, too? No wonder Shan Gudao couldn’t stand to look at him.
“Stop bothering Xianghua,” Weiwei snaps, from the kitchen doorway, frown etched on her face like iron, fan in her fingertips like Li Xianghua might have held a sword. “You know she’s had a long week, and here you are, hanging all over her like she’s your own mother. Have you no shame?”
“But I missed her,” Xiao-mei whines, “And she always lends me things when I ask. Not like you, Weiwei.”
Weiwei sighs, crossing her arms and flipping the long braids of her hair over her shoulder. Even years of life in the Central Plains haven’t done their work to erase the signs of her first home from her; she still dresses like a girl from the plains, albeit one laden in jewellery. Weiwei purses her lips as she says, “Li Xianghua lends you her things when you ask so you’ll go away and stop bothering her.”
Li Xianghua’s lips, despite himself, twitch. Weiwei, looming over Xiao-mei’s head, winks at him, so fast it could be denied, before dropping back into her ice princess act.
“That’s not true is it, Huahua?” Xiao-mei demands, eyes now enormous. Li Xianghua inhales the last of the porridge, lips stinging with chili oil, and stands. In a previous life, he had to dodge girls like this all day. The dance doesn’t get any less tiring, especially when they’re sweet like she is.
“I’ll give you the comb in a second,” is all he says. “I have to go get my flute now. We’re about to open.”
He escapes. In his room - compact, not quite cramped, dominated by the bed, the chest of belongings, prone to steam from the girls’ bathhouse below entering through the open window but therefore always nearly warm - he dresses quickly, kneels and opens the chest. Inside, the flute is wrapped in a piece of red marbled silk, like the veins on a man just before he becomes corpse. The flute itself is beautiful, fixed along a distinct break right through it, like a newly fused bone. But the memory of the wound will always be there. Both of these things, silk and instrument, are from men before Li Xianghua became a dead man to them, each for a second time, and now, what is he? In the polished bronze of the mirror on a low table nearby, pushed right back against the wall and partially obscured by a medicine chest, he catches a glimpse of himself: hair fever-white, robes a dark green like mulch, and face painted like a heroine in a story.
The story is over, and what he is, is what is left alive.
He selects a comb at random from the splay of them on the table and leaves.
And so, the first hour is peaceful. Usual, even. Xiao-mei is embarrassingly grateful, even holds her breath as Li Xianghua helps fit the teeth of it firmer into her hair. Li Xianghua ignores this. Li Xiangua focuses on his work. He kneels on a dais at one end of the main room, head bowed, and plays for the incoming flux of customers, all lilting songs that suggest yearning over satisfaction. It helps encourage them to stop drinking and go upstairs. This, too, is peaceful; usual. Li Xianghua focuses on his breathing and the music and the world melts around him, and then he gets paid for it. It’s a good life, as they go.
However, once that first hour passes, this - the music, the brothel, the sanctuary - is interrupted, when a man in lilac, shimmering robes and hair tied up high and away from his face strides in, still no subtlety about him in sight. There is shock, certainly, but then comes with it an immediate wave of resignation, so much more muted than dread. What is a shadow meant to do in the face of unyielding light but dissolve? It’s the way of things. Li Xianghua watches, resisting the urge to laugh or scream or distract or sprint away, any of it, anything at all, as the man, still boyish about the face with it too, reaches into his robes and removes a wooden badge.
“My name,” he says, voice as clear as a bell and just as headache-inducing in prolonged succession, “is Fang Duobing, and I’m a detective of Baichuan Court. I’m here to investigate the disappearance of Cai-daren's son.”
Li Xianghua resists the urge to roll his eyes. He keeps them half-down, instead, inspecting up from beneath his eyelashes. He shifts one hand, slightly, to try and cover the mended crack in the flute. But something about the minute movement must alert Fang Duobing, because he turns like a fox scenting blood, stares directly at Li Xianghua. He blinks. He gapes. His gaze drops to the flute, fixes for a deadly beat, and then rises back to Li Xianghua’s face. He tries to make a sound, but no sound comes, the bell cut out or cut down or shattered on the spot, and Li Xianghua, Li Xianghua who was twice a dead man but only, until this moment, once resurrected, looks back at him and thinks -
Well, fuck.
[read this on ao3]
[read ash's ficlet here]
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fukuro Part 8: Making It Up The Right Way
A/N: I know it’s been a thousand years since I last posted, but get over it. Looking back, I’ve noticed that this story has mostly been sexual content so far, next chapter picks up with more of the storyline as opposed to Kaito just fucking everyone. Enjoy! (Also thanks for 100 followers. Shoutout to @ggidolsmuts, his reblog of part 6 really helped me)
Warning: This series contains graphic depictions of violence, graphic sexual content, and adult language throughout. It is not intended for persons under sixteen. Reader discretion advised.
(Also, I’m writing according to what I think the characters would be like in real life, so they might not always be in character. Some character traits are made up by me, such as Jiwon’s affinity with computers.)
Chapter 8: Making It Up The Right Way
It was a while before Yiren woke up, she slept for a good bit. Jiwon and I brought her down to my large bed and covered her up. Jiwon went away and I stayed with her.
I felt at peace then, with her slumbering next to me and me sitting there with her, watching over her.
Finally, she stirred drowsily and her eyes opened a fraction.
“Kai?” She mumbled sleepily.
“I’m here, baby.”
She reached out a hand and grasped mine.
“Had a good rest?” I asked gently, scooting closer to her and laying down, pulling the blankets over myself.
“Yes.” She replied. “I was tired.”
“You came four times, I’m not surprised.”
“Was it four?” She chuckled softly. “I lost track, it was so good.”
“I know.” I said. “How do you feel about tonight?”
She smiled and snuggled up to my chest.
“Good. I’m all rested up.”
“You know what we haven’t done in a while?” I asked on a completely random note.
“Hmm?”
“Gone outside. Or done anything outside of this cube.”
“Kaito,” she said, in tones of a mother scolding her child, eyes still shut, “what are you planning?”
“I don’t like the thought of the risk, but it’s been too long since we did anything. We might as well while we can, before we’d be in mortal danger.”
I could literally (figuratively) hear the eye-roll and she smiled.
“What are you planning?”
“What do you say we go out tonight for dinner? Like, real dinner with actual people?”
“Sounds good to me. You sure we won’t get accosted by an eight-foot-tall behemoth with five-inch claws?”
I laughed.
“I can’t be sure, ever. They pop up in the most random spots. They can smell the toxin in my sword, they follow me everywhere.”
“If they can smell the toxin and they know it can kill them, why attack to start with?”
“They view me as a threat and want to take me out if possible.” I explained. “I don’t exactly make it easy for them, and to attack me is suicide. If they attacked one of you, I wouldn’t rest until I’d hunted down every last one or died trying. They’ve already taken my parents, I couldn’t stand it if they took one of you. They’d probably also hold one of you hostage to draw me in. They know I’d come for you, they’re very clever.”
“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen, then.” Yiren said.
Her soft, silky hair rubbed along my arm and shoulder and without a second thought I reached up and started stroking her head. She sighed in contentment.
“Maybe. I’ll see what the others think about it. This is very relaxing, by the way.”
I smirked. “It is for me, too. You know petting an animal, like a dog or a cat relieves stress and anxiety?”
“What, am I just your stress toy now?”
“Maybe you are my toy, just a different kind.”
“Oh, so I’m just a fleshlight.”
“Yeah.”
She snorted and slid her bare arm over my stomach.
“Well, since when did a fleshlight want to be used?”
At the same time, I felt her thigh slide over my own underneath the blanket. Some moisture was palpable closer to where her panties were.
“Been dreaming about that ‘usage’?”
She scooted over and settled between my legs, her back to my chest.
“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate. “I was dreaming about you.”
“Yeah?” I said in a lower voice, sliding my hand over her leg. “What did I do?”
“You fucked me so hard I screamed out in pleasure,” she said seductively, hand slowly drifting towards my waist, further in. “I squirted all over you.”
“It’s not like I couldn’t tell,” I said, dropping my hand lower and drawing a gasp from her, “you were moaning in your sleep.”
“Was I?” She asked. “Makes sense.”
“It’s going to happen tonight.” I said sensually, teasing her already-wet pussy with two fingers. “You, Jiwon, and I are going to fuck. A lot. Both of you are going to squirt all over me.”
She did nothing but moan in reply at the finger swirling her clit. Seeing my opportunity, I plunged my fingers into her already wet pussy, and she bit her lip hard to keep from shouting out, as we could be heard. Among my feelings of intense arousal, it reminded me that I hadn’t seen Sihyeon or Hwang-ja since they had fucked. I supposed that would put an end to my plans to fuck her. I was not sad about not having to listen to Eun-ji’s words earlier all over again.
“Kai,” Yiren gasped, clutching at my arm as I mercilessly rubbed at her g-spot, making her cry out, “Kai, I’m gonna cum, I’m fucking cumming! Oh, I’m so close, don’t stop!”
Her words spurred me on and I pumped her pussy faster, bringing her to her fifth orgasm of the day full on and eliciting a muffled scream from her as she hastily turned her face into the pillow to stay quiet.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t really thinking about the here and now, I was thinking about Eun-ji. I still needed to talk to her, there was no use putting it off.
She was slowly returning to reality by the time I turned back to her.
“Sorry, Yiren, I’ve got to go, there’s some business I have to handle with Eun-ji.”
“You go, Kaito.” She replied, tracing her own abs with an idle finger. “I know what the ‘business’ is, Jiwon unnie told me what happened earlier.”
“Did she?” I muttered, getting off the bed and putting on my shirt, not that it would be needed for much longer. “Well, then you know what’s happening. I’ll see you later.”
My new earpiece suddenly filled my ear with the voice of Joonhon, my head servant and overseer of the entire bunker’s function.
“Mr. Kobayashi, sir, the voice activation in the elevators is fully functional and ready for use. We’ve finally gotten it to work.”
I pressed the speak button on the small device and said,
“Joonhon, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times. Just call me Kaito. We’re friends, I prefer to be called by an informal name.”
“Sorry, sir. Kaito.”
“That’s better. That’s great, I’m heading to the elevator now.”
Yiren waved after me as I stepped into the elevator, and the last image I saw before it was cut off by the doors closing was that of Yiren’s adorable face looking back at me and winking.
“Floor three.” I said to the elevator, and a small screen lit up with green on black text and a photo of me:
Kaito Kobayashi
Identity Confirmed
Floor 3 Access Granted
“Confirmed.” The elevator’s automated voice replied, and the elevator started moving.
“Good job, Joonhon.” I said into my earpiece. “Very impressive.”
“Thank you, sir. Have a good day.”
“You too, buddy. Pyeonghwa.”
The elevators opened to reveal Yurim and Se-Rim doing their nails.
“Have either of you seen Eun-ji?” I asked, interrupting their giggles.
“Yes, I think she went up to the roof.” Yurim said. “Said she wanted some time to think.”
“A bit odd if you ask me,” added Se-rim, “but then again, we’re all pretty stressed out lately.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I headed back into the elevator and after telling it “roof”, it started to move.
I arrived at the roof and the doors opened to reveal Eun-ji standing there, waiting for it to arrive to her. She gave a small yelp and jumped back, my appearance taking her by surprise.
“Kaito?!”
“Yes?” I said, taking a step towards the exit. “Were you going down?”
“Erm, actually, I was looking for you.”
“Me?” I said, truly taken aback. “Why were you looking for me?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
I stepped out of the elevator and followed her over to the couch. Maybe I wouldn’t have to do anything, maybe she would do it all herself. I knew what she wanted to talk about, and there was no doubt she was going to want to make it up to me.
“So,” she said, swallowing, “I wanted to talk to you about this morning.”
“Yes, I figured.” I said.
“I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, that I regret ever even thinking of saying.” She continued. “And I wanted to apologize.”
I remained quiet, waiting to see where she took it.
“I’m sorry, Kaito.” She said, looking me directly in the eye. I spotted tears welling in her eyes as she spoke, and her bottom lip trembled . “I really never meant to say it, I know you do care, that’s why we’re here. I know you care more than anything.”
She got off her seat and wrapped her arms around me, and the sincerity of her words vibrated in my bones. I knew she meant them.
“Forgiven, Eun-ji.” I said into her ear, patting her on the back. “I’ll not pretend I wasn’t hurt by it, but I can’t pretend I never say things I don’t mean, either. Everybody makes mistakes, I can’t fault you for being angry. I know you didn’t mean it.”
She disengaged and sat back down.
“I still feel bad, though, even when you forgive me.” She said, voice choked up, a single tear running down her cheek.
With that she just broke down. She flung herself into my arms and started crying, and to me it felt like some kind of emotional dam had burst within her. It felt like an eternity that she sat there and wailed into my shirt, and I found it very hard not to join her in remorse.
It made me feel awful. Maybe I had been too hard on her this morning, but whatever it was I felt awful.
“I’m s-sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes on her shirt, “it’s just I’ve been so stressed and scared, and the thing this m-morning-“
She couldn’t finish the sentence and lost it again, sobbing into my chest.
“It’s okay, Eun-ji.” I said, making a supreme effort to keep my own voice steady. “It’s alright. I’m here, there’s no need to be scared.”
After a bit she fell into silence.
“I’m sorry.” She said once she had calmed down.It’s been so stressing since we came, I’ve just been keeping it inside. There are so many things I’ve just kept to myself, it just all flooded me. The thing this morning was the last straw, I just couldn’t take it.”
“It’s okay.” I said firmly. “Eun-ji, listen to me. You have nothing to be worried about. Nothing can reach us here. I would give my own life for any one of you, it would be over my dead body that the Fukuri would touch you. You’re safe here. As for the incident this morning; I forgave you. I know you didn’t mean what you said. You are an amazing person, and nothing you do will ever change that. I love you, and nothing you do will ever change that. Don’t keep your emotions away from me like that, it’s not good. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me. If you’re feeling down, talk to me. I’ve been through a lot in my time, I can understand what it feels like.”
She looked up at me, and the gratitude in her expression made me feel much better. She looked adorable, and her vulnerability in that moment strengthened our bond.
“Thank you, Kaito. Thank you so much, for everything. For spending your time, money, and effort getting us here, for saving us, for being so understanding and kind. You’re a really great guy, Yiren is lucky to have someone like you.”
Her words to me were more heartwarming than almost anything I’d ever heard. She sat back from the embrace on her knees and looked at me.
“So how can I make up for what I said?”
I returned her gaze, surprised. “What?”
“I said,” she repeated, “how can I make up for what I said? You’re extremely kind for letting it go so quickly and so easily, but I want to do something to make it up to you.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Well…” she trailed off, and I noticed a blush growing rapidly in her tear-streaked cheeks. “I had one idea…because of the topic this morning…”
Understanding blazed though my brain and I was shocked, though it was what I came up here for in the first place.
“Wait - Eun-ji, you’re not suggesting-“
“Yes, I am.” She confirmed, starting forward.
“Wait!” I said hurriedly as she reached for my waistband and she paused, one eyebrow raised. “Stop, you don’t have to - I’m not asking you for - you don’t need to do this.”
“Well, that’s the thing.” She said, hooking her finger inside my pants. “I want to.”
What a change from this morning. A comparison from earlier, when she exploded because I fucked Yiren, to now, when she was trying to fuck me herself.
I paused. “You’re sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to feel obligated to.”
“I’m sure, Kaito. I deserve it for this morning,” she said, and put a finger to my lips when I opened my mouth to protest. “and you deserve it for being so understanding.”
“You’re absolutely positive you want to go through with it?” I asked in a last-ditch attempt to prevent it. I didn’t want her doing this because she felt compelled to because of this morning. I had to forcefully remind myself of why I came up here to start with. “If you go through with it, I won’t hold back.”
“Good,” she said lustfully, “I don’t want you to.”
With these words she yanked my pants and boxers down over my legs and to my ankles, releasing my partially-hard cock.
I took a deep breath. If this was what she really wanted, that’s what she was going to get, no mercy included.
She gave a yelp as I grabbed her head by the hair and pulled her face into my crotch. Her tongue nimbly darted out and ran along my balls. She had clearly had some experience with this. It wasn’t on Jiwon’s level, but still good enough that it felt incredible. She hadn’t even started sucking my dick yet.
She let out a moan as she sucked on my balls, rapidly making me hard as a rock. Now that we started down the road, we weren’t going back. I hadn’t been kidding about not holding back. I lifted her head and pushed my cock into her mouth, spearing her lips open and gagging her at the back of her throat. But apparently that was just a taster.
She got up, walked around to the side of the couch, slid off her skirt, panties, shirt, and bra, bent over, and slid herself over my legs in a position that highlighted the curves and rounds of her ass, hips, and thighs.
“I don’t feel obligated to do anything,” she said matter-of-factly, “but I need to be punished. And before you object,” she added, not even having to look at me to know I was about to dispute it, “nothing you say is going to change my mind on that.”
My objection fell dead on my lips and I sat unmoving.
“Well?” Her inquiry rose on the air. “Are you going to get on with it or am I going to sit here all day with my ass out, waiting for you to do something?”
I hesitated still. I didn’t feel like it was my place or my right to punish her for saying something she didn’t mean in the heat of the moment, especially in this way. But her alluring nude body was drawing me in like a fish on a hook, and I was finding it increasingly difficult to resist her.
She looked sideways up at me with a seductive look, turning to her pure sexiness for help.
“I was a bad girl, and shouldn’t naughty girls be punished?” She said, intentionally making her voice lower and more breathy. “This girl needs to be spanked.”
“You know what?” I growled, primal instinct as always winning the battle against reasoning and gentlemanliness. “Have it your way.”
She bit her lip and I gave her ass a hard, sidelong swat with my hand. She yelped in both pain and pleasure and I waited, seeing if she was alright. She gave her ass a wiggle, silently spurring me on. I smacked her three more times before deciding on a different method. There was a cabinet that happened to have a hairbrush sitting on it nearby, so I reached over and grabbed the brush, flipping it so the flat end would hit her.
She uttered a yell as the brush struck her, making her ass ripple on impact. I paused again, making sure she was still comfortable with it before going on.
“Spank me harder!”
I gladly complied with her shouted demand, smacking her ass with the hard plastic again, and again, and again. I lost count of how many times I spanked her, her ass turning redder and redder. She yelped and moaned and shouted out, whether in pain or pleasure I didn’t know or really care. Occasional cries of “harder” or “more” came from her, and I let my instinct hotwire my brain. My hand briefly grazed her naked pussy and I was shocked to see how wet she was. Clearly the spanking was turning her on to that point. Her body quivered and her hands gripped the couch or my thigh each time the brush hit her, and she kept egging me on.
“I’m about to fucking cummm-“ she moaned out, clutching at my leg. I tossed the brush to one side and slid my fingers down her pussy, ending on her clit and circling it swiftly. I ran the fingers back along it until I reached her entrance, which I slowly teased before plunging them inside. No hymen barrier blocked my entrance, so I knew she was not a virgin.
“Not a virgin, eh?” I said while she gave a pleasured whine, thrusting my fingers at a quick pace. “So you are a slut?”
“Only for you Kaito, only for you!” She whimpered. “I’ll be your slut, all of this is yours!”
“You’re fucking right it is,” I growled in her ear, giving her ass a hard slap with my free hand. “You’re mine.”
Something inside her snapped at my words and she climaxed with a scream as I jammed my finger into her g-spot. Her juices splattered my hand and coated my forearm as they sprayed out of her, and the tension relaxed as she fell limp against me, chest heaving.
“That was - fucking amazing,” she said, taking deep breaths, “you’re so good.”
I let her recover sufficiently before moving. I made her kneel on her knees, face resting on the couch. Her shining, sopping wet heat was facing me and I was still horny, so I positioned myself, lined up my tip with her entrance, and pushed in.
Where her face was, her mouth opened and a whimpering moan left it as her eyes closed in pleasure.
I slowly forced my way into her tight pussy, pleasurable resistance meeting me every centimeter of the way, until I bottomed out inside her.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” I groaned through clenched teeth, my head tilting back as the feeling overwhelmed me. She was tighter than Jiwon by far, but not quite as tight as Yiren.
“Oh, it’s so deep,” she gave a soft, blissful hum as I filled her up, juices leaking out around the edges of my cock. She turned around and gave me that seductive stare, biting her lip. “Now fuck me.”
Raw, animalistic lust was the only thing I felt as instinct took over, and I jabbed my hips into her as hard as possible, a wet clap resounding around the roof. She cried out, reached around, and spread her ass cheeks, allowing for further view of my cock disappearing inside her.
I took the cue and started fucking her hard and fast, going for pure power in my thrusts. Her body was like a drug, addictive and inebriating, and I leaned forward.
“I’m going to make you fucking pay for this morning,” I growled roughly into her ear, pulling her head back by her hair to let her hear me over her own cries.
“Yes!” She yelled, turning her head and looking at me with desperate eyes. “Make me pay, punish me! Fuck me like I’m your little slut!”
“You get me wrong,” I said forcefully, her lips brushing my cheek, “you are my little slut, like it or not.”
She gave no reply except a string of mindless moans, unintelligible whispers that still held more meaning than words.
I grasped the ponytail I had formed her hair into and pulled harder.
“Say it! Fucking say it!”
“Y-yes!” She screamed out, fingers holding the couch like a vice. “I’m your slut! Fuck me however you want, I belong to you!”
Funny how just a taste of my cock had reduced all three of the members I had gone after to screaming, moaning sluts who begged me to dominate the. Each had had a different way of phrasing it, but all had the same message. Make me your slut.
I let go of her hair and reached around to her bouncing breasts, squeezing and groping her and heightening her pleasure.
Pulling out, I turned her over onto her back, and she gave a disappointed moan before I quickly plunged back into her, the moan turning to a breathy, satisfied shout. I let myself rest on top of her, driving my shaft deeper and deeper with each thrust.
“Oh my god yes, yes, f-fuck!” She screamed as I bottomed out inside her. “Fucking pound me! Pound my little pussy!”
“Shut up and take my cock!” I groaned through my teeth, knowing she was trying to coax the cum out of me with her dirty talk.
She bit her lip as I gave her breast a slap, eyes closed and hands gripping my back. I felt myself nearing my peak, and she was lasting longer than I thought she would but I could still tell she was close as well.
“Cum in me Kaito,” she gasped into my ear, bucking her hips up into me, thighs flexed around my waist.
I let out a moan myself as her walls clenched around me, but the expression on her face, her eyes closed, eyebrows angled upwards, her mouth open, was what sent me over the edge.
“I’m - fucking - cumming - FUCK!”
I managed three words and one yelled obscenity before slamming my cock into her, as deep as I could, and blasting her walls with my cum, giving a groan through my teeth as one of the most intense orgasmic highs I had ever had hit me like a truck.
I felt her juices hit me, but no sound came from her except a tiny squeak as her voice failed her. Her nails raked my lats and her legs gripped my middle very hard, her entire body trembling in pleasure. Then as soon as it came it stopped. Her thighs relaxed, her hands fell limp to her sides, and her pussy relaxed around my cock, still rapidly pulsing along with her beating heart.
We only got to enjoy the afterglow of our passionate sex for a minute or so before Joonhon’s frantic voice blasted into my ear again.
“Kaito!” He shouted.
“Joonhon, what the fuck!” I said, waving away Eun-ji’s questioning gaze and rising from the couch. “What is it?”
“Sir, you remember Makoto Takahashi?”
“Yes, why?”
I did remember him well, he decided to devote his life to helping the Fukuri a while ago, and had tried to kill me.
“He’s resurfaced; he sent our server a message.”
“What did it say?” I asked warily, knowing that this couldn’t be good.
“He wants to talk to you, in person.”
“Tell him I said to fuck off. I don’t associate with dickheads like him.”
“I’m not sure that’s advisable, sir. He’s threatening you. He has the Fukuri on his side, as I’m sure you know, and he says he’ll bring them to us if you refuse.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to see him, but by refusing I was risking the lives of myself, Everglow, and everyone else in the bunker. I couldn’t do that.
“Get the guards ready, Joonhon. We’re going to meet this motherfucker.”
65 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sorry for the long wait for this review. Life has been biting me in the rear lately and I’ve been unmotivated to get anything done. But I’m finally finished with this commentary and I haven’t forgotten about the “Unhappy Campers” episode that was uploaded recently. That will be done as well!
Okay, FINALLY Season 1 Episode 8 came out and about, after a year I think. Why was it taking so long?
Well, short story; professional (or personal?) reasons involving Kesha. Also, copyright issues.
Long Story? Well, as we all know, Kesha, a pretty known popstar, was voicing the role of a character Viv created for this episode named Beelzebub. As you can see from the gif I put on top, you can tell that there are some similarities there. Not just with the voice, but also appearances here and there.... which was one of the problems and reasons why Kesha didn’t wanna voice this role, at least initially since she clearly changed her mind after a year or so. If you’ve seen this episode, you’d probably know by now that Beelzebub is a party girl; she likes to drink, party, and eat junk food n stuff. And Kesha is ALL those things; party girl, likes to drink and eat. Or at least... she was like that? Thing is, she went to rehab for all those things and is recovering from it from what I’ve heard.
Not that I wanna assume anything but... creating an oc that has certain traits that the voice actor was struggling with and had to get cleaned for, not to mention that Beelzebub is a literal reference to Kesha and how she was back in the day? I don’t know what Viv’s goal was there, but doesn’t she think that might be a little insensitive?? Now, I don’t know if Kesha is sensitive about that, but she must’ve felt some type of way about it considering she wanted nothing to do with HB in the first place and had to wait almost a year to finally decide to do it.
Also, I still don’t get why this episode had to wait a year for this. Like, I get that Kesha is Vivzie’s idol and it was her dream to have her voice someone in her show, but did she really want her to voice a role so badly she wanted to put a pause on the season 1 finale and completely skip to season 2 until finally uploading it a year later? Why couldn’t she just get someone else to voice Beelzebub? Kesha didn’t even sing the song that was played in this episode, and she wrote it!! It just kinda feels like all this was for nothing. This should probably be the last time Viv EVER tries to get big-time celebrities to voice over characters in her show. Especially when it gets so complicated to the point where you have to keep certain famous youtube videos private, when animators can’t even upload animation roughs from the episode, and when you can’t tag Kesha about her association with Helluva Boss on ANY social media. Yeah . . . It’s that complicated. Hopefully, Viv will learn some kinda lesson from all of this, cuz she had to take her “Die Young” animation off YouTube because of it, which honestly sucks (mostly for her anyway). It really is messed up, especially when considering that Viv’s Die Young video was what mainly started her whole career in the first place before Hazbin. I really hope it was worth it,Viv. . . .
Anyway, let’s just jump to the review...
So episode 8 was kinda... meh. It was alright I guess, still like always, I was expecting something outta nothing. Of course, some things happened on here that I just had to complain about, and I’ll explain later. But the gist of it is that... not a lot happened in this episode. As always, the writers were just rushing things. This whole episode might as well have been a 5-minute clip after so much wasted time on some stupid song which I’ll admit is pretty catchy (gives me 2010 vibes). And also what bothers me about this whole thing was that this was about Loona.
Lemme explain; so y’all remember Ozzie’s right? That whole thing with Blitzo spying on M&M and bringing Stolas along just to get in the club? Yeah, that episode. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but that was supposed to be a Part 1 before episode 8 before Viv decided at the last minute to change that. At the end of episode 7, Blitzo pushed Stolas away after dropping him off. He went home and was scrolling through pictures and started to cry after seeing a picture of him, his sister, and mother. I was expecting this whole episode to be about just Blitzo and what he got going on, similar to Stolas and his episode in the second season. Like maybe a flashback of his past or something with the people that was a part of his life and left at some point over what he did. We have yet to know what happened between him and Fizzarolli that ended their friendship. Or what about his sister?? Cuz apparently, she doesn’t like Blitzo either and is holding a grudge about something. With Verosika, well we already know the two dated and why they broke up sorta, but I still feel like we have yet to explore the relationship they had. Like, how the hell did a scrawny little imp like Blitzo get with such a baddie like Verosika??? What was their relationship like?
So yeah, I just feel like this episode could’ve given us a whole other different plot. If anything, the story in this episode could’ve been saved for another. Not that there was any plot to tell anyway, especially when it’s 15-minutes long and rushed as hell.
It’s literally just Loona at a party...
In episode 7 S1, Blitzo got a text from Loona saying Vortex invited her to a party and that’s where we are. The whole time, she’s having difficulties socializing with folks and is very awkward. Plus we have our new character, Beelzebub to lighten everybody’s mood. She’s also Vortex’s girlfriend, but I’ll get into that in a little bit. Also, after a while, Blitzo comes by to pick her up initially but later joins the party with Loona.
Let’s just get started....
-- Hold up, so no disclaimer of “This is for adults! You have been warned!” warning?? We’re just gonna jump straight into the episode? I’m not sure whether they forgot about that part or if they just don’t care anymore, but to me, it feels rather off. Especially since they’ve been doing it since the first episode of season 1. If you’re wanting to go all out with the r-rating anyway, it would still be best for you to put that disclaimer every time before you start the episode, especially when folks of a younger age are watching it for the first time and don’t like to be caught off guard with anything vulgar.
-- I couldn’t tell if Loona just hung up on Blitzo or just left him on read when he tried to call her. Regardless, she didn’t answer the phone while knowing fully well he’s trying to call her and its pretty rude. I know I’m being nitpicky about this part, but as someone who has parents who’d get onto you a little for not answering the phone sooner and not calling back immediately after finding out you missed the call, it can get a little triggering.
-- The hellhounds in this party don’t even look like actual hellhounds; just over a hundred different breeds of dogs with red eyes. If anything, Loona and Vortex look more like hellhounds.
-- Is it just me, or does the animation and clean-up here feel . . . . off? I mean- Look at the outlines!!
Do you see how different the outlines are in size in each different scene??? They’re thick in one part, totally thin in another, but right back to thick again, and so on. Honestly, the more I notice it, the more irritable it is. I get that there are hundreds of animators working in this show, they like to animate their way, and I’m no animator myself (not yet), but would it kill y’all to stay consistent with the clean-ups here? Why can’t you stick to the same brush size while outlining?
-- While we’re on that topic, Loona’s character model looks much more off than the outlining. I’m not sure how I can explain it, I don’t critique art or character designs often (ironic cuz I draw a lot, lol), but Loona has been drawn so stiff and thick lately. . . . . I dunno. It just doesn’t look the same. You might see what I mean if you just look at the pictures above. Once again, it just seems like the animators and artist cannot stay consistent with the animation and character appearances.
-- Loona butts in on a conversation with a couple of people she apparently doesn't get along with. I get that she's trying to socialize, but why, out of everyone in this party, did you choose to talk to someone who takes embarrassing photos of you and talks shit??
-- So this poodle hellhound took a photo of Loona throwing up that one time at a party she participated in. A party before this one of course. But last I checked, it was implied in ep 3 season 1 that Loona had never been to a party before and the one that Tex invited her to (the one in the episode) would be her first one. The party that Loona vomited at should’ve been her first one instead of the one Beezlebub is running. Not to mention that she has met some of these hellhounds before and is known as “Lunatic Loona” by most of them. This folks is yet another retcon.
-- Loona calls the poodle a bitch, leaving everybody completely shocked for some reason. “Ooooh! Teacher! She just said a bad word!” That’s seriously what they’re acting like. As if NOBODY in this wasted ass party (or in hell at all) has ever said a bad word before. If y’all don’t grow tf up-
-- I’m sorry, but if y’all asked me what I thought The seven deadly sin of Gluttony would look like, NEVER in my LIFE would I have pictured THIS--
I know I cannot have been the only one high off shrooms the moment I seen this character design. . . She looks like a concept art of an OC that was made a 12-year-old Vivziepop.
So first off, she calls herself Queen Bee... but is shaped like the rest of these furry fanservice mutts. She’s just another wolf/fox with only a little bit of bug-like features to pass off that she’s only. . . part bee. But why not just make her a FULL BEE??? Why does she have to look like a whole lava lamp hellhound??? Like, I know the lava lamp feature was supposed to be based off her personality, but why can’t that just be her hair?? Why do you have to add that part to her STOMACH!!?? I can’t even tell if that’s just apart of her clothes or her actual body! Either way, its too much!! It must’ve been hard as sh*t to animate her!!!
It doesn’t even make sense that she looks like a hellhound anyway!! Hellhounds are supposed to be in the lowest rank right beside imps and Beezlebub looks like one of them, only with an extra pair of arms!! Once again, why can’t she just be a BEE or something???
-- I always forget that Helluva Boss is supposed to be a musical. Probably because it just doesn’t fit as one at this point, especially with this pop music. When it comes to musicals, the point in the songs is that we would have to feel empathy for whoever’s singing and they also tell a story while we get a sense in what we’re about to see, and it also drops hints in what will happen next. But THIS song, it’s just a little pop music talking about sweets while also introducing Beezlebub. I get that its the point in pop music; there’s not much meaning to them and it’s only meant for you to enjoy and sing along with, but you can’t really call this show a musical when music like this is being played. Like I said from before, it’s still fairly catchy. I’ll admit that, but I could hardly feel for it.
-- I don’t wanna badge Kesha for her acting skills. It’s not like she’s been in a lot of films anyway. I mean, she’s a pop singer first and always, so that’s fair. But it was pretty, meh? Like, she kinda sounded like she didn’t even wanna be there in the studio and is only reading her lines instead of actually ACTING them while putting little emotion in what she’s saying. Honestly, most of Beelzebub’s lines are kinda pointless anyway. Like she’s just saying random bizarre monologues that I can hardly care about or even listen to. I can’t even tell if I was supposed to laugh at them or what. Seems like to me the writers only put those lines in the script just to hear the famous Ke$ha talk more. Not to mention that some of what she said sounded completely unnecessary and weird. For instance, Beelzebub mentioned how she was associated with Satan and thinks of him as her brother, but also finds him hot without his shirt on and said that she could “hit that”. . . . . Uhh, not exactly something you should say or even THINK about your brother figure ma’am. Why y’all gotta have Kesha say all that?? I can definitely see why she wouldn’t wanna act out these scripts!! She must’ve felt hella uncomfortable reading them!
And Viv, WHAT IS IT WITH YOU AND THE INCEST JOKES!!??
-- Okay, so . . . . Vortex, a lower class hellhound, and Beelzebub, one of the seven deadly sins being Gluttony (which means she a higher rank) dating?. . . Um, last I checked, a lower class and someone of higher up than that is kinda frowned upon by most of the demons in hell, as seen with how some people reacted to Blitzo and Stolas’s relationship. But for some reason, no one seems to react to Tex and Bee’s relationship?? Why is it that people mock Stolas and Blitzo for being a thing, but Tex and Bee can walk around and hold hands scott free??? I can tell that Viv just doesn't care anymore about the ranking system SHE made up.
-- I don’t really see Vortex and Bee as a couple anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I actually find it cute they’re together and even like the ship a little bit. But from what little interactions I’ve seen between them, kinda just seems like they’re more platonic best friends then boyfriend and girlfriend. I guess if we we’re to dig deep into they’re relationship, then I might see something, but . . . . I dunno, that’s probably just me.
-- Loona is so hard to read, especially now. The whole time she’s there, she’s just feeling super uncomfortable, like she doesn't even wanna be there even though she's with Vortex, who's the only person she seems to be more at ease with out of everyone in the party. Even when Bee is super welcoming and nice to her, Loona still feels bitter while not even liking her (Probably because Bee is dating Tex). And then for some reason, she just ups and leaves then starts to... tear up?? It's not too clear to me why she’s feeling sad. You can’t blame me for not knowing or picking up on it. It’s not like she was doing much of anything other than standing there and barely talking. How am I supposed to know what she’s really feeling and why she’s feeling it when she’s given no dialogue?
-- I'm reminded that Loona still acts so bitter around Blitzo and it's honestly irritating. She calls to ask him to pick her up and when he asks her if she was doing okay, she responded with such attitude! Aren’t we supposed to be sympathizing with her here??? I don’t care how frustrated she feels right now, especially since she has no reason to be. And I just love it how when people see her and say, "Oh hey Blitzo! Is that your daughter?" And she quickly responds, "I'm his ADOPTED daughter!" Like bitch. . . WAS ANYONE ASKING THAT!! He’s your family!! Paper or no paper!! DEAL WITH IT!! And no shit your adopted!! People can see that he’s an imp and you’re a HELLHOUND!!! Stop being so defensive!!
-- Are you for real right now. . . . . .
You were getting all teary-eyed n shit, wanting to go home but as soon as some hellhound hottie starts flirting with you, you immediately get over it and change your mind in less than 5 seconds before you’re about to leave???? Like you don’t even think about it?? Viv, where are you getting at here???
-- I can’t really say much about Blitzo right now. He’s barely there anyway, only making an appearance in the last 10 minutes of the episode for comic relief and a pity party.
-- Viv must really don’t know what to do with her female characters and how to go about ‘em. Loona’s shown to be introverted and sad at first to straight up confident and lively around everyone in a matter of seconds. She’s so quick to make friends and get along with other hellhounds at the party as if it was no issue from before when it was. We don’t even get to see any progression of bonding with these out-of-nowhere friends she’s making. And all because of some dude that called her hot!!! It kinda makes me question on why Loona was even feeling sad in the first place since it was so easy for her to gain confidence.
-- Y’all, I think I’m convinced right now that the only reason Loona doesn’t like Beelzebub is because she’s dating her crush! Like- there’s nothing else to it. Bee and Tex are dating, Loona is still crushing Tex and that’s why she doesn’t like Beelzebub. Not to mention she’s possibly jealous because she feels inferior to her. She’s super outgoing, social, and could easily get along with anyone, something Loona can’t easily do (though that alone shouldn’t even matter because Loona already managed to make friends and some random hellhound flirted with her). You CANNOT convince me otherwise. And if that is the reason, then honey, you’re gonna have to let that go. For real!! You’re lucky that Tex even likes you enough to want to be your friend.
So Bee and Tex confront Loona about Blitzo, saying that he’s been drinking a lot (obviously) and that he’s going overboard with the partying. They suggested that Loona go check on him to make sure he’s okay and that he doesn’t cause some kind of scene (Then again, I don’t see why Bee would care. The point of her being the sin of Gluttony IS to go overboard with nearly anything. I mean- not the whole point, but it’s a common characteristic, so I don’t think she should be worried about it. I guess it’s good to know she’s considerate though.) Then all of a sudden, Loona snaps mainly at Bee and gets so hostile towards her saying, “You don’t know anything about my dad.” such and such, and I’m just like, “Ugh, again with your attitude!!!”
For one, its pretty bold of you to stand up to a higher rank considering she could squash you in an instant.
But I mean- WHAT IS WITH THE SUDDEN HOSTILITY??? And most people wanna validate her, saying, “It was only a trauma response. You gotta understand that Loona is new to this and she’s not used to people suddenly caring and being kind. She’s just having a hard time trusting people and she did apologize.” Y’all. . . don’t even- First off, Loona's reaction to Bee felt too rushed and forced to be considered traumatic. Second off, someone having trauma does not excuse an unnecessary shitty attitude, especially when Bee has been so kind to Loona this whole episode. Third off, for someone who doesn’t trust people so easily and isn’t used to being given kindness, Loona seemed pretty quick to make friends with everyone at the party who were nice to her. She was sure as hell quick to get along with Vortex after only knowing him for a short amount of time! And he was kind to her too. She wasn’t being bitchy to them then. But when BEELZEBUB is showing care or kindness, Loona will suddenly start to act bitchy??? And because of some past trauma?? PLEASE!!
And some fans would go on to say, "She's just getting over a heartbreak. It takes a while to get over your crush."
They're saying this as if Loona is head over heels in love with Vortex when she was simply CRUSHING on him and from the moment she saw him. And yes, there IS a huge difference especially when Loona only knew Vortex in that short amount of time. I would understand Loona falling in love with Tex if they actually had the time to bond after ep 3. . . . but they didn't. At least there was no indication that they did. And on top of that, just for the record, Loona already knew that Tex had a girlfriend the same day she met him!! Which was five episodes ago!! So before y'all go on and say "She needs time to get over her crush", she should've already gotten over it by now!! I dunno why she's still crushing and blushing around him as if she believed he liked her back!
Why did she seem so shocked after Tex introduced his Bee anyway? As if Loona never recalled him mentioning he had a girlfriend back in ep 3. And say that was the reason why she was sad . . . why would it would it make her sad!!?? Like I said, she should’ve already known Tex had a girlfriend since he brought it up straight to her face. I would understand her being upset if he didn’t tell her and she didn’t find out about Bee until the last minute when Tex introduced her as his girlfriend. Then it would actually make sense for Loona to still crush on him the entire time because she wouldn’t have known he was taken and would believe she still had a shot with him. In this case, it would be understandable why it would make her sad. . . . but we didn’t go that route. Instead, we had to go about it the “Vivzie Way” (the more complicated way).
Point blank, Loona seems to only dislike Bee because she's with Tex and is jealous. And she shouldn't have reacted the way she did out of jealousy when Bee was only showing concern for Blitzo. Trauma or no trauma, I don’t care. It was unnecessary.
-- “Blitzo! BLITZO! Where are you, shithead!!”
Loona . . . . how’re you gonna get all defensive about your dad and then go straight back to calling him names?
-- For once, Loona decides she actually wants to care about her dad (mainly cuz she was told to). I guess its nice to see a cute father/daughter moment between Blitzo and Loona for once. Can’t say I feel for it at all though especially when it immediately starts to become completely pointless a season and two episodes later when we see this happen-
Seriously, how're they gonna have Loona and Blitzo bond by the end of the episode only for Loona to go back to treating him like shit the next? It’s like whatever build-up was being made between them immediately collapsed a season later, and over something as petty as a mild criticism Blitzo gave Loona. You can just TELL that Viv and the other writers don’t think before writing these scenes down!!
Also, how is it that Loona will get all concerned for Blitzo making out with folks in the party while wasted even though she was literally cheering for him to chug a whole barrel of liquor in order to beat Bee in a game. What’s sad about this is that it was one of the only times Loona calls him “Dad”. . . . In a drinking game . . . . .
-- Blitzo: "Loony, will you be there for me?"
Loona: . . .Be where?"
Be invisible, obviously. . . . Frickin' idiot. . . .
-- We're supposed to feel bad for Blitzo, but it's kinda hard for me to do that when he wasn't even the main focus in this episode at all when he should been. Still, it's not like I could feel sorry for him anyway since he brought that whole Ozzie's mess on himself.
For now, I think that's all that could be said about this episode. I might just make some edits if I feel if I left something off. But the whole gist of it is that I feel like this episode was just a whole lotta nothin'. I don’t even think Loona learned anything this entire episode. Of course, the whole plot here was Loona learning to socialize and make friends with everyone, but we didn’t even get to see any of that. And she clearly didn’t learn anything since she was influenced by some rando calling her hot. It’s honestly sad, for real. The females in this show needs some serious work not just in their stories, but their characters too.
#helluva rant#helluva boss rant#criticism#critique#animation critique#helluva boss critical#helluva boss criticism#helluva boss critique#anti helluva boss#Loona#Helluva Boss
83 notes
·
View notes
Note
5, Hualian
Hello. There is a cat AGAIN. CW for animal death I guess, because it's a ghost cat, but it is being loved and cherished and there's no details.
----
Hua Cheng could never begrudge Xie Lian’s kindness. It was one of the things he adored about him, that he found so special. Among all the gods in the realm of heaven, in Hua Cheng’s opinion, only Xie Lian was good enough to deserve to watch over the prayers of the common people.
But lately, and he’d never admit this to Xie Lian, lest the other man think he’d done something wrong, which he hadn't, Xie Lian’s kindness had come at a disadvantage.
It had only been a couple weeks since Xie Lian had come back to Paradise Manor with the tiny black and white cat in his arms. It wasn’t a normal cat, but a ghost cat that had wandered to the entrance of Ghost City. Xie Lian had found him on the way back from a meeting with the heavenly court. Hua Cheng did not know what had befallen a friendly domestic cat that would cause it to return as a wandering soul, nor was he sure he wanted to know, but Xie Lian had not been able to resist its plaintive mews.
And so now the cat, a little girl Xie Lian had named Jiahao, had free reign of Paradise Manor. The truth was, Hua Cheng was actually very happy Xie Lian had felt comfortable enough to bring the cat home without even asking beforehand. It showed he viewed Hua Cheng’s home as just as much his home, and that he fully understood, believed, and accepted that everything that belonged to Hua Cheng also belonged to him. He knew the Xie Lian he had met again years before would not have been able to do that.
Xie Lian doted on the creature. She was a ghost cat, he reasoned, so she could eat whatever she wanted and it wouldn’t matter. This meant that if the cat asked for it, she got it. This was also fine. Hua Cheng wanted him to be happy. He would just get more food if they ran out.
The bigger problem was that the cat clung to him like a particularly stubborn shadow. There was no time at which the cat wasn’t by Xie Lian’s side. He couldn’t even take a bath without Jiahao coming in and reaching in to playfully splash the surface. She slept with him, she ate with him, she bathed with him, she relaxed with him, and she even went out with him, walking alongside him dutifully. He imagined if E-ming had been a cat, it might act a little bit like Jiahao (though Jiahao, to her credit, was much quieter and mellower).
In short, Hua Cheng missed Xie Lian. He missed having his full attention and cuddling with him and Xie Lian only having eyes for him, and he also missed sex, because it was hard to have sex when there was a cat in bed with you. And he was trying to be patient, because the cat made him happy, and Xie Lian’s happiness was tantamount to everything, but it was becoming difficult.
Was he jealous of a cat? Yes. A ghost cat, even, but as he himself was a ghost, he supposed that was irrelevant.
Xie Lian, to his credit, did finally notice. It had been Hua Cheng’s fault; he’d accidentally dropped his nonchalant front and scowled when Jiahao got with them one night. The cat licked both of them on the nose (she was sweet, he couldn’t deny), then nuzzled up to Xie Lian, coaxing him to open his arms so she could snuggle in them.
The scowl was, he imagined, quite dramatic. His brows were furrowed and his lips were drawn, and to anyone else, it might be frightening to have Crimson Rain Sought Flower looking at them that way (though to be fair, he was looking at the cat, not Xie Lian).
Xie Lian froze, and concern crossed his features. “San Lang, what’s wrong?” he asked. He was still petting the cat, but he did reach over and press his other palm to Hua Cheng’s cheek.
“Nothing, gege.” He shook his head. “I think I’m just tired.”
Xie Lian frowned. “San Lang, you rarely get tired. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
“We haven’t had sex for two weeks,” Hua Cheng managed after a few moments of silence. That is not what he’d meant to say.
The other man burst out into peals of laughter, and Hua Cheng thought, as always, that it was beautiful. “Why didn’t you just say something?”
He continued, despite his embarrassment. “Well, that cat is always here. I know you love that cat, but gege… it feels like you give her so much attention and…”
Xie Lian gasped. “Sang Lang, are you jealous of Jiahao?” There was a playful edge to his voice.
Hua Cheng sighed. Jiahao meowed.
“I just miss spending time with you alone.”
“You miss having my eyes on just you.” Xie Lian smiled, and he placed his other hand on Hua Cheng’s cheek as well, then squeezed. “I’m sorry. You give me so much, and in return I made my San Lang feel unloved.”
“You’ve given me more than enough.”
Xie Lian shook his head. “Poor Jiahao. She’s a lonely ghost who has clearly been through so much, and she just wants to stay by the side of someone who loves her.” He glanced down at the cat, who had already dozed off. “Maybe I like her so much because she reminds me of someone else.”
Hua Cheng’s mouth dropped open, and then he pursed his lips. “Gege…”
“But I hate that you’ve felt neglected, San Lang,” he continued. “I’ll try to be more conscious of this so I can take proper care of both of you.”
The other man shook his head. “Jiahao makes you happy. I’m glad you brought her back, gege.”
“Mhmmm,” Xie Lian replied, “but I don’t want any of my happiness to come at my San Lang’s expense. We’re married. We exist to make each other happy. It goes both ways.”
Hua Cheng nodded, then after a few seconds, spoke up again. “Can we have Yin Yu take her some nights?”
Xie Lian laughed again, beautiful. “Yes, and we can do whatever San Lang wants on those nights.”
“What about tonight?” he asked, and he leaned forward, attempting to ignore the cat between them so he could whisper in his husband’s ear. Xie Lian pressed a playful kiss to Hua Cheng’s cheek, interrupting his attempt at seduction.
“Not tonight. I’m not moving Jiahao when she’s already fallen asleep.”
Hua Cheng would have to look forward to tomorrow, but, he thought, that was fine. They had endless tomorrows.
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
I came up with a plot for a second Ghost Trick game/ Post-Canon AU. Spoilers for the game, obviously.
The day Yomiel is released from prison, he finds out that Sissel (The woman) has been kidnapped as part of another attempt by the foreign country to erase all the people who know about temsik. Sissel knows about temsik because Yomiel told her in his letters from jail.
With help from the cast of the original game, he tries to find her. When the team tries to confront whoever the country sent to come after them, it turns out to be…Yomiel. Again.
There’s a lot of distrust and confusion, but eventually they find out that there is a ghost who can copy the powers of anyone previously touched by the temsik meteorite, even if their death was erased. Yomiel, as the manipulator, obviously has some of the most useful abilities.
To create a ghost who could use such abilities however, the foreign country killed a lot of animals and people. In order to try and save them, yomiel kills himself in the presence of the meteor fragment in order to regain his ghost tricks. Sissel (the cat) begged him not to, because he wouldn’t be able to come back unless Sissel died as well, and Yomiel had made him promise he wouldn’t do that.
The new manipulator turns out to be a ferret named Fromm who was tricked into thinking he was Yomiel after he died. He can use any ghosts abilities he likes, but he experiences amnesia when switching between them, which is why he does it very infrequently and is very vulnerable when he does, besides, he’s must useful to the foreign country when he thinks he is Yomiel. It comes to light that the foreign country killed Sissel (the woman) to make Fromm believe the detective team had done it, in order to influence him to do the countries bidding. Yomiel finds out his fiancé is dead and goes into a rage and disappears, leading Sissel to give up his life to find him. They team up to get Sissel (the woman) back, and free all the ghosts the foreign country made in order to give Fromm all his abilities, as well as to free Fromm too. The others think he might be too far gone, but Sissel (the cat) insists that can’t be the case, and cites Yomiel as proof. Yomiel has mixed feelings, he knows Fromm is experiencing the same thing he once did, but the loss of his wife after 10 years of trying to get over her death, and another 10 years in prison waiting to see her again weigh on him heavily and alter his judgement.
Yomiel has to learn how to connect with people who haven’t been to the ghost world in order to speak with everyone, along with other new abilities.
#Probably some plot holes here but it is a first draft#I would love to make a full length fic for this#but I feel like it’s a little too barebones#So if anyone wants to help with ideas and write a fic with me#Dm me#ghost trick phantom detective#ghost trick#ghost trick spoilers#massive ghost trick spoilers#sissel#inspector cabanela#yomiel#lynne#kamila#jowd#ghost trick au#adhdfinest writes#adhdfinest#cw sui mention#tw sucidal ideation
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
CW: Serious but vague talk about the complex feelings associated with the loss of a loved one and mourning - both in Kirby and in real life. Some personal stuff and once more for good measure mentions of death and mourning.
-
I know I don't owe anyone an excuse for my brief absence, but I was completely caught off guard this year when I realized the anniversary of Planet Robobot fell just days before the passing of my own father last year. No surprise I didn't make the connection last year, but it hit me this year and it hit hard.
I know that they're not the fandom's most popular characters ("most hated" may be more like it?) but I feel almost painfully close to the story of Susanna Patrya Haltmann and Max Profitt Haltmann. For I was also a child who was torn between being really mad at my father for his flaws and mistakes while also pining for this idealized parent-child relationship we didn't have, to the point of often spurning the bond we did have because it wasn't going the way I imagined it. I also had to watch close up as he wasted away, his senses going one by one, till he looked more and more like a fading shell of a person.
...You know, I didn't even finish playing PR until last year or maybe the year before? Of course I knew the story spoilers. But I couldn't make myself play it. I finally did because I felt I had to. And I'm glad, even if finishing it left me with a weird sense of sadness. A sense of sadness that finally came full circle a few months later...
I thought I would draw something for the anniversary this year. Something sad, bittersweet, poignant, meaningful. Something akin to a tribute. But my pen just wouldn't move. I don't think I have the words or the visuals to fully express what I felt about it right now. It's why, even though I really do like these two characters, I hardly ever draw them.
It's this closeness that renders them blurry in my vision.
...I suppose I might as well talk about this while I'm here, but I have this ask in my inbox about the Merry Magoland Branch AU. About Joronia and Max and what happens to them after their souls are freed.
'Do they come back to life?'
...God, I've written one thousand answers to that post in my head.
Part of my brain says the "right" answer to give - here on my Kirby blog where every story has a happy ending or at least a chance at salvation no matter how grim - is "of course they come back to life!" The Merry Magoland Branch AU is a sad but cutesy fractured fairy tale of a story where everyone ends up better than they started! Besides, they’re already souls. What else would happen to them? Just quietly go off to rest? That wouldn’t be satisfying!
...
But another part of me looks at "Kirby," a series that has characters who have "died" and come back to life and characters who have died and stayed dead and I feel like, as painful as it is to those such as the Sectaranza shippers and the other fans of of the implied dead cast members...
...they're not coming back. They can't come back. They shouldn't come back. Even in a completely fictional setting, even in a silly AU, it is hard for me, personally, to make myself change what has happened. What has been done.
Don't get me wrong, I've even scribbled out a few "everyone lives!" scenarios but I've never been able to draw a single one... I tell myself that if a miracle happens and one day I'm scouted to make a Kirby comic or animated series or movie, something where I get to retell the world from the beginning, I would not have it so the "dead" characters die, if only because they are unique enough that I would want them around to use for future stories. Like Moretsu Pupupu Hour, with its funny Sectonia who is literally allergic to peace. Or that one manga I haven't read where Susie and her father run some kind of puzzle store??
But again, that would be a Kirby I had control of from the beginning.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm proud of Kirby the series for not being so grimdark “realism” that Marx, upon blowing up, turns into meat pasta and instead comes back with a smile and laugh to kick exploding jester balls at people all because you waved a magic heart-shaped wand.
And I'm absolutely content with letting spunky wizard Magolor mercilessly fight his way back through some sort of purgatory dimension and start life over as a medieval salesperson, building up good karma one microtransaction at a time. I think that stuff is important. (Well, not so much the microstransactions.) But I'm also proud of it for letting some characters... not come back.
Dark Matter Blade is both a badass and strangely attractive (...just me?) for an eyeball made of dark matter but despite the fact that maybe all he wanted was friends, despite the fact that it's implied he rescued Gooey from Dark Matter and hid him on Popstar to protect him from Zero, despite the fact that he should have become a good guy and was instead used heartlessly by Zero like ammunition, losing the few marks of individuality he'd been able to keep thus far (his hair and armor and cape) he's just gone. He'll never join the others on Popstar. Never enjoy the warmth of a spring day or get to be a sibling to Gooey. He'll never even get to explain things to poor Gooey that they ought to know, and he was probably the only one who could.
It's tragic. It's upsetting. It's unfair.
And it's...important, much as I hate to say it.
Dess secret... but I actually get a little mad when people want Taranza to "...hurry up and find a new girlfriend and stop being in mourning all the time" because... I think it's okay for Kirby to have "a character who is in mourning." I suppose there's no real reason he can't be "character who was in mourning who was able to find love again" but I also kind of like that he's THERE as a character for anyone who has lost a loved one and is still sad about it. For those who haven't begun rebuilding their life just yet.
Gooey is the one who lost someone without every really knowing what he had/could have had. Susie is the one who lost someone and also has to get back to work because that's a real thing too.
I didn't really mean to talk about death and mourning in Kirby (for a second time) but I think part of me had to as well. At least if I was ever going to go back to regular posting. I don't even really feel as if I even captured everything there was to say. Like I said, I don't really have the words.
But, yeah, anyway, if you've ever seen me politely push back when someone brings up Susie or Max discourse of the negative variety on my blog, hopefully you have a slightly better understanding as to why I respond the way I do.
#Kirby#Susanna Patrya Haltmann#max profitt haltmann#sectaranza mention#Dess Text Post#Taranza#Gooey Kirby#Dark Matter Blade#cw death#cw personal#cw illness#I left Elfy and Fecty out of this because that was too much speculation#But you could see them as something similiar
63 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
arsenic-burritos
Avi~
itz-leviiiiii
Itz-Leviiiiii
sergiolopez21
Sergio López
malifiquemakes
Haunted by the narrative
