#while sparks fall down in a cascade behind me
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[Toronto, 09/17/2022, video cred: me!]
#i just love his *vision*#like 'i'm gonna end the show by striking a pose and holding it#while sparks fall down in a cascade behind me#this must be incredible for him to just stand there and bask in the applause#he is so GREAT#papa 4#my gif#gif#ghost#the band ghost#toronto ritual#my ritual#my footage
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pieces of you
single dad!chan. x fem!reader
genre : neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. mutual pining. 8.7k wc
summary : In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chris and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.
a.n. : my chris best girl dad agenda is going strong!!!!!! my second fic for the winter falls collab with my writer xi hehe i hope you will all enjoy reading!! feedback is highly appreciated 🤍 the song chris will write for sowon is light by sleeping at last, highly recommend listening to it!!
winter falls masterlist.
i.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
“Shh, daddy smile.”
Soft murmurs linger just beyond your door, elusive words that could easily be dismissed as figments of your imagination. However, any doubt in your mind dissipates with three resounding knocks, jolting you from your momentary contemplation.
A reluctant groan escapes you as you glance down at your attire—a loosely hanging oversized hoodie, a testament to the numerous times it has been tugged down, and a pair of pajama pants whose matching top has mysteriously vanished. Clearly, you don't feel presentable enough to welcome anyone at this late hour. So, you remain motionless, futilely lowering the TV volume in hopes that whoever's behind the door will just continue with their night. But the knocks persist against your wish, so, with a resigned sigh, you rise from your seat, your blanket cascading to the ground in a soft descent.
“What–” the words dissolve in your mouth like a sweet nectar as you open the door, your eyes beholding no one in your periphery. A slight tug at your pants draws your attention downward, only to find the most adorable child your eyes have ever laid on. She's clad in Rapunzel-themed pajamas, wolf slippers bumping into your plain ones, and, to your surprise, a whisk cradled in her small hand.
“Hey there,” your voice softens as you crouch to meet her warm gaze. You find an innocent happiness gleaming in her eyes, a radiant spark shining even beneath the corridor's muted light. Two dimples adorn her cheeks as she smiles at you.
“Hi, my dad wants to tell you something,” she says, pointing with her whisk to the very end of the hallway. You crane your neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive figure.
“Your dad?”
“Mm. He’s a bit shy, that’s why he’s hiding,” she confides in a whisper. But, despite her earnest attempt, her words still resound loudly in the vacant space, causing giggles to spill out of your mouth.
“And you aren’t shy?” you inquire, tilting your head.
“Nu-uh,” she shakes her head with conviction as someone emerges behind her. She instinctively wraps an arm around their leg, nestling her cheek against their thigh.
She isn't shy because she feels protected.
You rise from your place, eyes locking with a familiar shade of brown. Only these hold a mesmerizing quality to them making your very breath catch in your throat. Kindness pours from his gaze as it travels down your face, a sentiment that further materializes as delicate smile lines stitch around the corner of his eyes.
He’s beautiful.
Your eyes trail down to two pairs of dimples, mirroring the ones of his daughter perfectly. She is his living portrait, sharing his eyes, lips, and smile. Yet, his cheeks blush in a hue she does not possess, while his left hand fiddles with his earlobe, in an unspoken, timid gesture. For some odd reason, it pierces straight through your heart.
“Sorry for bothering you,” a smooth Australian accent rolls off his tongue, similar to rich butter spread on warm bread- it infuses your being with tingles pulsating from the base of your toes. You suddenly no longer miss your blanket.
“I'm your next-door neighbor. We were just making cookies and we realized we actually don’t have flour,” he explains, a bashful smile imprinted onto his lips.
“You didn’t check beforehand?” you ask, laughter tinting your voice.
“I forgot,” he admits, but his tone sounds almost sad as if beating himself over it. A fleeting shadow veils his face briefly, dissipating like a passing cloud grazing the sun.
“Can we borrow some from you? I told Sowon that we could go to the store but she said it’s too cold out,” he asks, his hand resting on his daughter’s shoulder soothingly.
“It is too cold out,” you agree with a frown, looking down at Sowon to which she smiles brightly, happy to have your support.
“And of course, I'll bring you flour. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to come in meanwhile?”
“It's okay, we'll wait here. Don’t want to intrude.”
“Thank you!” Sowon beams, her missing tooth in full display.
“Yeah, thank you so much…” he trails out, tilting his head as if to silently inquire about your name.
“Yn. And you?”
“Chris.”
“Nice to meet you, Chris,” you smile, shaking his extended hand. His fingers wrap around your palm, and it feels as if you’re grasping thunder, crackling with an electricity that your eyes can’t behold, yet your soul does, suddenly illuminated from within.
Your smile grows as you detach yourself from his hold, before bending forward to bop Sowon’s nose. “And nice to meet you too Rapunzel.”
Your words make her hide behind her father’s leg, peeking out slightly to look at you.
“See I'm not the only one who gets shy,” Chan chuckles, and Sowon whines in complaint, further burying her face in her dad’s grey sweatpants.
Adorable, so much it stirs a long-forgotten melancholy within your being.
“She gets a pass, she's still young, right Sowon?”
“Are you calling me old then?” Chan fakes outrage, bringing one hand to his chest while the other cradles Sowon’s back.
“Old enough to forget about flour,” you wink and he laughs, looking down at your slippers.
“Touché.”
A few minutes go by before you come back, a recipient full of flour in your hands. The sight before you makes you pause in your tracks– Chris, leaning against the wall, Sowon propped on his hip, her arms loosely hanging around his neck, her eyes closed.
“Did she…” you whisper and he turns to you.
“Yeah, fell asleep,” he smiles fondly, tucking a few strands of her hair behind the curve of her ear. “She’ll be disappointed when she wakes up to no cookies. She wanted us to have a baking holiday tradition.”
“You don’t know how to make them?”
“No, I was counting on a six-year-old to assist me,” he chuckles quietly, prompting a snort from you.
“Well, keep the flour, in case you need it again.”
“Thank you, Yn,” he grins, the smile taking over his entire face, grabbing the recipient from you.
“You’re welcome Chris,” you say, as you both linger around the door still, not making any attempt to move.
Your eyes refuse to peel away from his, as if there were a magnetic force drawing you to him, telling you that your gaze belonged to rest on him.
“Uhm,” he clears his throat, leaning away from the wall. “I'll get going.”
“Yeah, sleep well, Chris.”
“Thank you,” he smiles before turning around.
An idea brews in your head, a germ sprouted by the clear adoration in which Sowon gazed at her dad, and the disappointment in his face as he said he would no longer be making cookies. Had you wished to dig a little deeper, you would’ve also found a long-buried feeling of a little girl who would have loved holiday traditions as well. You close the door before heading straight to your kitchen.
One hour later
You knock softly on Chris’ door, fidgeting from one foot to another. You almost retract back to your apartment after your fourth knock, when the door finally opens, Chris coming into your line of sight.
“Hi,” you greet, hands behind your back.
“Hey,” he smiles, leaning his arm on the doorway, right above your head. He tilts his head to the side, silently wondering what you want. The words dissolve in your mouth at the way his eyes fixate on you as if trying to peer behind your irises onto your mind.
“Cookies,” you bring the plate before him, as his eyes grow wide, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.
“You made them?”
“Yeah, didn't want Sowon to be disappointed,” you shrug and his eyes grow wild, racking all over your face in disbelief.
“You didn't have to do this,” he finally says, tone softening, syllables ringing like a sweet sonnet in your ears.
“I know. I wanted to. and I'm a baker so making cookies comes easily to me, don't worry about it,” you shrug sheepishly, biting your lower lip slightly. You felt scrutinized by him in ways you haven't felt before.
“Thank you, Yn, I don’t even know what to say,” he says, his smile resembling a beam of light. A surge of pride courses through you at managing to bring it forth.
“No need to say anything. I hope I didn't wake you up,” you smile sheepishly and he shakes his head.
“No, I- I was working in my studio and Sowon is asleep. It's just us two. Always has been,” he adds, tone slightly changing, air growing heavier between you both. It's just them two.
“Studio?” you inquire, hoping to dispel the tension latching around you both.
“I'm a music producer,” he clarifies. “I made a studio here so I could stay the night with Sowon.”
“I'm sure she appreciates that,” you say as you hand the plate to him. His fingertips brush against your own, and a slight electricity courses through you at the touch, the hallway suddenly brighter from the fireworks ricocheting off of you both.
“I…. I'll get going.”
“Yeah, yeah, don't want to take more of your time.”
“I'll see you around.”
“Yeah, I'll see you,” he says, words not ringing carelessly into the air, sounding more like a promise. He'll see you, he'll make sure of it.
ii.
“Can you wait!” a voice echoes near the building entrance, and you prevent the elevator doors from closing as hurried steps near you.
You recognize the voice easily by the light tingles running down your spine, the Australian accent shooting straight through your heart. Its owner materializes, Chris— leather jacket hugging his muscles snuggly, black t-shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, cap nestled on his head, rebellious strands of ebony hair peeking behind it.
You find the breath knocked out of you once again at his sight. He's beautiful, even more so in broad daylight, where every feature of his comes to life, beckoning, demanding your sole attention.
“Hey, Yn,” he smiles in delight, uttering your name in a familiarity that infuses your being with warmth. Even though you've only talked once, two days ago.
“Hey, Chris,” you greet back, pressing the fourth elevator button again. you face the mirror to find Chris already looking at you, his eyes instantly locking with yours.
“The cookies were good,” he smiles softly and you grin. “I'm glad you think so.”
“Where is your bakery? I need to taste more of your baking.”
The butterflies in your stomach tone down at his words, your attraction momentarily forgotten as gratitude coats your heart instead.
“I can text you the address?” you propose.
“Yeah, here,” he takes out his phone, a picture of him and Sowon set as his lock screen— their cheeks are pressed tightly to one another, messily done eyeliner on both their eyes. you giggle to yourself as you grab the device.
“Cute picture,” you muse and he brings an arm to his neck, scratching the side of it timidly.
“She insists on trying her makeup on me.”
“She makes you look better,” you giggle and he rolls his eyes, tongue poking against his cheek.
“She wants to become a stylist,” he explains, as the elevator doors open. He lets you out first, arm stretched forward.
“I find her passion really cute so I buy her anything she asks for,” he shrugs and you chuckle, pointing to the bag of pink ribbons he is carrying.
“Let me guess, she wants to use these on you?”
“Yeah. She also said that I quote ‘need to learn new hairstyles because her friends always come to class with intricate braids, and she can't go to class with a simple one.’” He repeats, tone growing slightly high-pitched as he mimics his daughter's words. Yet, the fond smile on his face is louder, screaming of his love for her.
“She has you wrapped around your finger,” you muse, leaning against your door. The keys in your bag are long forgotten.
“She can be very scary for such a little girl.”
“What does she threaten you with?” you ask, feigning horror.
“No goodnight kisses,” he whispers, as if scared she'd hear him beyond the wooden door.
“Torture,” you gasp, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Yet, the smiles slip out of your face instantly. Was it normal for clothes to dissolve under your touch, layers of cotton and leather doing nothing to stop the warmth of his skin from seeping through you? Was it normal to be so affected by such an innocent touch?
“Uhm,” you clear your throat, “I can help you. with her hair, I mean.”
“You don't have to. I already took too much from your time with the cookies,” he seems truly apologetic, his tone sobering as if despising others doing things for him. You see yourself in him, in the way he wants to carry the world’s burden on his shoulders. It is a reflection you wish to mend.
“I don't mind, I remember feeling jealous of the other girls in my school so I made myself learn all the braids.”
And then you see his gratefulness, the twinkle in his eyes that you can only grasp for a millisecond before they disappear into moon crescents. Happiness looks grand on him, overtaking his entire face, brightening his features with a glow too ethereal to be of mankind, as if they were carved to translate joy. You find yourself willing to give up more of your time to see it.
“Thank you,” he breathes out and you nod, a grin taking over your face as well.
“You’re welcome. Let me just change my clothes.”
☃︎⋆꙳•❅
“And then, you pull the right strand all over to the middle one. Then you repeat, this way the ribbon is braided into the hair,” you explain to a very concentrated Chris, his eyebrows furrowed as he follows your movements.
“It looks easy when you do it,” he frowns and you giggle, handing the mirror to Sowon so she'd be able to look at her hair.
“Do you like it,” you ask, a tad apprehensive and she beams, dimples that almost swallow her chubby cheeks surging forth.
“Pretty!” she exclaims and you giggle, bopping her nose. “You are pretty.”
“And you are pretty too. right, daddy?”
You turn back to find Chris watching you, a smile so fond on his face that it renders your insides putty, coats your cheek in the palest shade of pink.
“Very much so,” he says, tone quieter, his eyes never leaving yours.
Sowon suddenly climbs on her dad’s lap, star and moon stickers in hand. She places them all over his face, and he sits there diligently, arms wrapped around her midriff so she won't slip away. Every carefully placed sticker is punctuated by a soft gasp from him and a small giggle from her. You could feel the love radiating from both of them, a feeling so strong it made your heart twist in your chest.
Were there red neon exits you weren’t aware of in your being? Ones through which love trickled away all these years ago? Were the spaces between your fingers carved to hold someone’s hand, or to make everything you've ever wanted slip from your grasp?
“What do you think?” Sowon startles you and you force a smile on your face, willing the heaviness in your heart to dissipate. There were questions you'd never find the answers to, you had to make peace with that.
“I love it!” you grin and Sowon nods, satisfied. You look down at your lap as Chris fixates his eyes on you, a worried crease growing between his eyebrows.
“Fun is over, you need to do your homework, Miss Bang,” he scolds and you snort, as Sowon rolls her eyes slightly.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he fakes offense and you giggle as Sowon huffs slightly. “Dad, I told you I have no homework. I already did it with uncle Felix.”
“Oh, right,” he deflates slightly before brightening up once again, “then, you should put away all these hairbrushes and ribbons, okay?”
“Will you watch a movie later with me?”
“Of course, baby.”
“Okay then,” she grins, quickly standing up to start putting away her things. you smile, getting up your turn to leave. Chris understands and stands with you on cue.
“You can stay and watch the movie with us.”
“It's okay, I have some things to work on,” you turn around, but then you feel his fingers wrapping around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
“Are you okay?” he asks, hand still burning straight through your skin, igniting a million nerve ends with a simple touch. You avoid his eyes, looking down at the ground. It seems to be response enough for him.
“We’re conditioned to say yes even when we aren’t, right?” he speaks softly, his words travel through your veins in a rapid course against the current of your blood— which one will reach your heart first and flood it?
Your facade cracks. His voice wins.
“So, you don't have to reply now,” his thumb swipes once across your pulse. “But I'll be here if you ever wish to tell the truth.”
iii.
You’ve grown exceptionally fond of Chris in the span of mere months, more than you would like to admit to yourself. It was an easy task, as natural as the current of a waterfall. Yet, you did not plan for it, for a new emotion to settle on top of your lungs, to make you more aware of your heart and how it beats, slightly faster, around Chris. But it happened serendipitously, against all odds, when he knocked on your door at 10 p.m. asking for salt.
“Should I start buying groceries for you?” you joked, and it took Chris a millisecond longer to respond, his gaze wandering across your face, as if discovering the world’s eighth wonder, hidden in plain sight all these years.
“For my defense, I have a daughter that likes experimenting with cooking,” he smiled, and you raised an eyebrow at him.
“Just with salt?”
“She added four teaspoons of it in an omelet. Then forced me to eat it because I always tell her food shouldn't go to waste,” he shudders at the memory and you chuckle loudly.
Chris knocks on the doors of your heart, once.
It happened when you spotted a cockroach the size of your palm on your bedroom wall. You would’ve killed it, you were going to, except it started flying towards you and you let out a loud shriek you didn’t know your vocal chords were capable of conjuring. So, you called Chris.
“Can you please come over,” you murmured, crouching near the entrance door, a pair of slippers in your hand.
“Why are you whispering? are you okay?” he sounded worried, and you heard the turning of a lock as he opened the door to his apartment. He didn’t ask questions, instantly coming to your aid. A sudden urge to weep filled your being at his gesture.
“There is a cockroach. a flying one,” you precised, horror dripping from your tongue and his laugh flooded your ear, tiny squeaks that made your hold on the slipper grow limp.
“I'm from Australia,” he knocked on your door, and you stood up promptly. “I've seen worse,” he said once you finally opened it, his eyes softening incredibly when they met yours.
He did kill the cockroach, by spraying your insect repellent enough times to asphyxiate you too. “I don't think I can sleep in there tonight,” you sighed, gulping down ice cold water, “why does it feel like we went through war?”
“We? You were behind my back all the time.”
“I was cheering you on, from afar. Spiritually.”
“I can’t believe a cockroach scares you this much.”
“You literally screamed when it flied towards you too.”
“I didn't scream! I made a very manly, non-terrified sound.”
“Mm, sure,” you giggled, voice softening at the blushing of the tip of his ears. Chris didn't have to force the door down to your heart, you willingly opened it for him.
And after that, it was a race to find the silliest excuses to see one another. Chris suddenly taking up an inkling for baking, you manifesting a newfound interest in music, Sowon needing her makeup done for a dance, Chris visiting you in your bakery, Sowon craving your cookies and you teaching her the recipe, Chris knocking on your door and you knocking on his. The same giddy smiles on your faces as you usher each other in. And it always, always ending with a movie night.
“Let's watch Tangled,” Sowon exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.
“Baby, we watched this movie for the past…” he looks at you for support. “Three,” you whisper, a bashful smile on your face. “Yeah, for the past three movie nights,” he whines slightly.
“But I love it,” she says, her pout morphing into a huge grin. “Again! Again! Again!”
“Fine,” he concedes, mouthing “save me,” from afar to you. You giggle softly while Sowon cozies up to your side, your arm naturally draping across her body while her legs stretch atop Chris’ lap, naturally, as if having you both by her side was the way things have always been. The only reality she’s ever known.
It is a fleeting fifty minutes as the three of you watch the movie, Sowon reciting excitedly the lines that she seems to remember. But then the quiet is replaced by her soft snores, her body growing light against you.
“She fell asleep,” you whisper, tapping Chris’ shoulder to catch his attention. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his eyes land on his daughter.
“I'm sorry you have to watch the same movie every time,” he says apologetically and you shake your head.
“I don't mind. Tangled is a good movie.”
“Are you here just because of the movie?” he smiles, dimples peeking through. The juxtaposition between the weight of his words and the soft expression on his face makes a buzzing warmth spread through you. He’s cold and hot, in and out, yours but not.
“What do you want me to be here for?” you throw back, squeezing his shoulder slightly.
“The company.”
“I do find Sowon entertaining.”
“Just her?” he pouts and you giggle, tipping your head back.
“And you too, I suppose, by extension.”
“By extension, mm,” he hums, as he gathers Sowon in his arms, freeing her from your hold. “Then I guess I shouldn't come visit you in your bakery anymore. Since you only enjoy my presence by extension.”
“So sassy,” you shout-whisper as you both walk to Sowon's bedroom, “I like your company too, idiot.”
“Yeah?” he turns back to look at you, tone a tad bit too hopeful. He doesn’t care that he sounds eager for your approval, not when he feels as if he can only truly breathe when you're near.
“Yeah, Chris, I really do,” you speak earnestly, and Chris bites his lower lip slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentleness of your tone. Your eyes follow his action instantly.
He lowers Sowon gently onto the bed and she stirs awake, blinking repeatedly at the both of you. “Yn,” she calls out quietly once her eyes land on yours and you kneel before her bed. Chris watches from the door entrance as Sowon cups her hand near your ear, before whispering something to you. He notices your body stiffening, your gaze fleeting to him before you relax, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
He wishes he could freeze time, stitch this moment into his eyelids until it is the only thing he sees when he goes to sleep. Loneliness is too big of an enemy for one person to fight off, but it seems more harmless when you are near.
Chris sees you right here, every night, not forcing your place into his family, but falling seamlessly into place. Perhaps you were the missing piece that’ll soothe the burn in his heart. Perhaps he’d let you in, even as fear paralyzes his being at the mere thought of asking you to stay.
One week later.
You've grown used to the knocks on your door at ungodly hours of the night, Chris seeking your company each time you both fail to fall asleep. Except this time, there is a chilling premonition in your heart as you walk to your home’s entrance, anxiety coiling like a steel ball in your throat.
“What’s wrong?” you ask upon opening the door, locking eyes with Chris's bloodshot gaze.
“Sowon,” he heaves, tone laden with fear, so different from how he usually pronounces her name. The syllables pierce through your heart like an arrowhead dipped in alarm.
“Sowon?” you question, peering behind him to his slightly ajar apartment door.
“Yes, she has a high fever, and it won’t come down. I tried everything, and I-I don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shaking, but I can’t—”He trembles, his quivers akin to delicate chinaware on the precipice of an earthquake, poised to shatter at your feet. You'd plunge to the ground first, anything to soften his impending collapse.
“It’s okay,” you soothe, your voice soft as you grasp his wrist. “Let’s go see her, okay?”
“It's her first time being this sick,” he whispers, clearly distraught, one hand running through his freshly dyed blonde hair.
“It's okay. Don’t panic, it happens. Did you give her medicine?”
“Yes, a few minutes ago,” he replies as you guide him towards her room.
“Good, it'll start working soon,” you reassure, opening the door and crouching before Sowon.
“Hey, Rapunzel,” you coo softly, and Sowon attempts to muster a smile. Her cheeks flush, eyes dim like withered petals.
“How are you feeling?” you ask, pressing your hand to her feverish forehead. You cast a wary glance at Chan, who's anxiously biting his thumb.
“Cold,” she whispers, and you nod, peeling off her blanket. “I know you are, but you have a high fever. We need to let it cool down, okay?”
“I-I’m shaking,” Sowon sighs, lower lip protruding and trembling, both from the iciness clawing at her frail being, and the tears welling in her waterline, like a cup on the brink of overflowing.
“Shh, don't cry. It will pass, it's okay,” you murmur soothingly, cradling her face on your lap, gently moving damp strands of her hair behind her ear.
“Chris, can you bring me a towel and a bowl with cold water?” you ask softly, and the man startles, painfully peeling his eyes away from his daughter, as if doing so would consign her to a dark fate.
“Sure. Sure,” he repeats, scurrying out of the room.
Sowon buries her cheek in your thigh, small hands clinging tightly to yours. You tie her hair up into a loose bun as Chan hurriedly comes back, a bassinet in his hand.
“Thank you,” you smile, as he kneels beside the bed, his hand resting on Sowon’s knee gently.
“Hey sweetheart,” he coos softly, and Sowon blinks at him, light spilling over her face.
“Hey daddy,” she replies as you dip the towel into the water, before squeezing the fabric to remove any liquid excess.
“You're being so strong. I love you so much my pretty girl,” he says, bringing her small hand to rest upon his cheek, bestowing a gentle kiss on her palm.
The moment feels so intimate, so tender, that you almost feel like an intruder. You imagine this is what thorns on roses must feel like, so out of place amid delicate petals and stems.
“I love you too,” she grins, and you remain silent, diligently wiping her face and neck with the dampened towel. You soon lose track of the number of times you've repeated this motion, but Sowon’s eyes are now closed and her body is no longer trembling.
You rest your palm upon her forehead, a sigh of relief escaping your body as you realize that her fever has gone down noticeably- the medicine finally taking effect.
“It's better now,” you smile reassuringly and Chris’s eyes widen, irises shaking as he looks back to his daughter.
“Will she be okay?”
“She will be. She just needs to sleep a bit.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Can we prepare her something to eat meanwhile?”
“Mm,” he absentmindedly nods, his fingers trailing down Sowon’s features delicately, resting upon her round cheeks.
"She looks just like you," you softly smile.
"I know," he admits, not with pride but in surrender, as if his reflection was nothing but a cursed fate. His voice tastes like ocean water, salty, acid, suffocating.
“Chris…” you trail off and he shakes his head, abruptly standing up.
“Let's make her chicken noodle soup. She loves it,” he says and you nod. A ticking bomb resides in his veins, devoid of a countdown, leaving you unsure of when he'll finally explode.
You get your answer soon after—it takes two minutes and thirty-three seconds for the first tear to roll down Chris’s cheek. You spot it as you retrieve carrots from the fridge, averting your gaze as Chan angrily wipes it away.
A few seconds later, five tears follow the same agonizing trail, and now the knife is shaking in Chris’s hands. He squeezes his eyes shut as if frustrated by his pain, by the emotions escaping through the cracks in his heart.
You stay silent, bringing the water to a simmer.
The clank of metal against the counter snaps your attention, and you see Chris with his head lowered down, his hands tightly clutching the counter.
Your tongue moves before you can order it to speak.
"Chris," you call out, your hand finding its place on his back. An ugly sob escapes his lips, a raw cry unearthed from the depths of the soil where he buried his feelings, never allowing himself the grace of grieving, then moving on.
“I'm a horrible father,” he utters so brokenly as if this idea were cemented into his head, woven into every thought of himself—an adjective that lingers like a phantom each time Sowon calls him dad.
“You're not, what are you saying?” you gently turn him around so he'd face you. But his eyes remain downcast, as if ashamed to meet your gaze.
“I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I-I wasn't enough to help her.”
“It's okay, you can't know everything, you are trying your best-”
“No, no, no, it's not just about this!” he snaps, despair clinging to his eyes as he finally looks at you. “It’s hard. It’s so hard to be here alone, and I- I try but it's not enough, I can't do everything and I'm not a good enough parent for her, there will a-always be something missing.”
“You're wrong,” you say but he shakes his head in disagreement. “Chris, you're wrong,” you cradle his face, taking you both by surprise. Your thumb swipes gently underneath the skin of his eyes, wiping his cascading tears.
“You love Sowon. And she can feel it, she can see it, she can hear it. Everyone can. A parent can't be perfect, but they should love. And you love her.”
“What if I can't even love her enough for a father? How will I ever fill the role of two parents?” he's leaning onto your palm, hanging onto your every word. You'd sit for hours and untangle every thread of his mind if you have to, until you single out the infested one and burn it away.
“She loves you Chris. She looks at you as if you hang every star in the sky. As if you're responsible for every good thing that happens in our world. She loves you and you love her.”
You gaze up at the ceiling, tears welling in your eyes. Chan notices the subtle tremble in your hand against his cheek.
“If I had someone who loved me as much as you love Sowon when I was a child, I would've turned out so differently,” you smile bitterly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.
“You won't be a perfect dad. You can't be. But she won't grow up with a throbbing heart, pulsating because of a void that cannot be filled. Her veins won't be poisoned by hate and abandonment. Because she knows what it's like to be loved,” you pause, as your voice breaks, traitorous tears rolling down your cheeks. “To be cared for.”
Your eyes hold his in a silent conversation, secretly telling him what your tongue cannot speak of— Sowon, an untarnished blossom, won't unfurl into a solitary flower the way you did.
“I'm sorry,” he whispers after a while, eyes softening in understanding. His knuckles brush gently against your cheek.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“So you'd find a reason within you to forgive,” he says, as he leans forward to press a tender kiss on your forehead. And somehow it feels more intimate than any way you've been touched before.
Five days later.
chris [11:32 p.m.]: you up?
yn [11:32 p.m.]: i just got bad flashbacks to my college years
chris [11:33 p.m.]: ajaksjsbsbbs
chris [11:33 p.m.]: i didn’t mean it like that ㅠㅠ
chris [11:33 p.m.]: wanna come over? i'm in the studio but im not feeling inspired
yn [11:34 p.m.]: and how will i help?
chris [11:34 p.m.]: i find your presence inspiring
You don’t reply, instead putting on your slippers and walking over to his apartment. He opens the door before you even have the chance to knock.
“What are you working on?” you ask once you’re settled atop his chair, spinning around slightly. He looks down at the pillow on his lap, lightly plucking its pink fur. “A song for Sowon,” he admits softly and your eyes grow a little wide.
“That is so sweet,” you pout, inching closer to him. “How is it going?”
“I've finished the melody and now I'm working on the lyrics. There is just.. so much i want to tell her, i'm unsure if ill be able to express it well.”
“Can I read what you wrote?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he searches through his papers. “Here.”
May these words be the first to find your ears
The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here
I'll give you everything I have
I'll teach you everything I know
I promise I'll do better
I will soften every edge
I'll hold the world to its best
And I'll do better
Tears spring to your eyes unexpectedly, you try to stop their flow but they fall upon the paper, splattering like a broken mosaic, mimicking the brokenness of your own heart.
“I'm sorry,” you spin around, your back to him as you attempt to dry your tears, and yet they show no desire to stop. Chris is in your heart and he’s kicking every other emotion out, forcing you to make amends with your sadness, the one you buried years, years ago.
Chris gently grabs the back of the chair, pulling you back to him before spinning your chair once again until you are facing him. You bury your face in your hands and his rests reassuringly on your knee, squeezing it slightly. “Is it so bad it made you sob?”
“Shut up, you know this isn’t the case.”
His hand delicately traces up your arm, gently lifting your fingers from your face. He kneels before you, his thumb tenderly wiping away the traces of tears on your cheeks.
“Talk to me?”
“It's so beautiful, so warm, so loving. Everything a parent should think of their child,” a traitorous hiccup escapes your lips. “Everything my parents never felt for me.”
Chris’ mouth morphs into a pout, eyebrows scrunching tightly. You shake your head, smoothing down the worried crease between his eyes.
“I don't feel sad over things I can't control and I love myself enough now to compensate for what I didn't have, but sometimes-'' your voice breaks, Chan’s hold on your hands tightens. “It stings to remember what could’ve been.”
Stings was an understatement, it is rather a pulsating void, throbbing in ache every day, calling out for its missing piece. How can I fill you with what was lost when it chose to walk away?
“Come here,” he whispers, coaxing you to your feet, his arms enveloping your body as he guides your head to the crook of his neck. His body runs warm, the material of his sweatshirt soft, and he smells nice too, the contours of his muscles tailor-made to complement the ridges of your own.
“You grew up well, Yn. You did well.”
You clutch his shirt, tightening your grip as you fist the fabric in your palm. He's patting your back, and time slows down to match the rhythm of his touch.
“Love can be hard, I know. Especially when the people who left are the ones supposed to be staying.”
He understands, more than anyone you know. He missed out on a different kind of love too, two facets of the same coin.
“You’re doing well too, Chris. You shouldn’t doubt yourself as much,” your arms trail up to encircle his neck, as his nose tickles your hair. You're the one hugging him now. “Sowon is really smart, she told me that she loves you a lot. She can feel it. She sees everything you do for her.”
“Is that what she told you that movie night?”
“Partly,” you whisper, and Chris leans away slightly, his warm palms still pressed to your waist, holding you close.
“What else did she tell you?” he asks, curiosity barely hidden in his tone.
You pause for a while, eyes going over the entire room before finally locking on him.
“She thanked me, said that I make you smile more.” You suck in a deep breath, gathering your courage. “Do I?”
“There are smile lines that don’t show on my face until you're near.”
“Oh.” That is the only coherent response you can formulate, and Chris giggles, a tiny squeak escaping his lips in a huff. “Cute,” he murmurs, planting a tender kiss on your temple. His lips linger, holding onto the moment a beat longer than necessary, causing your eyes to close in delight. Both of you find yourselves blushing as he leans away, a shared warmth coloring the space between you.
“Sorry, didn't mean to make the mood somber,” you say sheepishly as you sit back down, eyeing Chris’s laptop. “I wanna hear this,” you quickly point to a random track on his screen before he can reply, hoping to make the sadness flee away.
“This one? It’s not really good, let's listen to something else,” his rambling and eagerness to change the track pique your curiosity and you quickly click on the song before he can stop you.
connected.mp3 starts playing.
Sultry beats inundate your ears, weaving through your veins and whisking you away to the pulsating rhythm of a dance club. You knew Chris produced good music, yet you never fathomed that his voice could be so luxuriously rich, cascading over you like molten wax. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the suggestive lyrics, the innuendos peeking behind every word. And then, a sudden jealousy claws at your heart, at the thought of Chris hunched in his studio, fantasizing about connecting with someone who isn’t you.
You wished to be the only one Chris liked.
“It’s a- a demo for one of my clients,” he explains through a stutter once the song is done, and you nod meekly, willing your body’s temperature to go down, for the possessivity crinkling in you to fizzle out.
So, you put on your best taunting smirk.
“I know you want me don’t crumble.. No need to be desperate we’re just getting started,” you sing-song back. “You were feeling so cocky when you wrote this, right?” you grin, inching your chair closer to his. “Feeling yourself, Mr. Bang?”
He chuckles with a hint of annoyance, running his tongue along the expanse of his lower lip. Leaning back into his chair, he casually spreads his legs a bit wider, a gesture that suddenly leaves you feeling dizzy, on him.
“It’s cute how affected you seem by it,” he throws nonchalantly, crossing his arms before his chest.
“I'm not,” you smile, although your erratic heartbeat spoke of a different tale, you just didn't need to voice it to him. “I think you were the one getting all hot and bothered in your studio,” you stand between his legs, hovering over him as he leans back fully in his chair.
“I was thinking of a pretty girl.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm,” he suddenly grabs your waist, you feel like your entire body is ablaze. “The prettiest.”
"Who is she?" you exhale, teetering on the edge of crashing your lips onto his, like an incoherent love poem, hastily scrambled on a notebook in a fit of anger.
“y–” The door suddenly opens, Sowon’s small frame standing by the door, she’s rubbing her eyes tiredly, her chick plushie dangling from her hand (a gift from her uncle Felix as she explained to you). You quickly scramble away from Chris as he clears his throat loudly.
“Daddy, I can't sleep,” she says faintly, a tiny pout drawn on her lips, and you can see Chris physically melt at her words, at the way she paddles to his chair, and tries her best to climb up his legs. She fails to do so, so he quickly scopes her up his arms until she’s buried in his hold. Her small hands wound up around his neck, and he tenderly pats down her hair, his gaze never wavering from her frame.
“Want me to sing to you, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” she whispers, before making grabby hands at you, your heart softens like clay dough as you scoot closer, enclosing her fingers in your hold.
“Sleep well, Sowonnie,” you whisper.
“Can’t you stay with us?” she asks and you feel your blood freeze in your veins, your heart skipping three beats at once.
To stay. What a frightening concept. Even more scary when you realize that you aren’t opposed to it.
You yearn to stay, for the first time in years, you wish you could.
You swallow the growing lump in your throat, before smiling reassuringly. “I'll stay till you fall asleep.”
Conditions, it is the way it has always been for you. staying till you’re no longer useful, staying till you're no longer wanted. Staying, but always with a time limit, always with an expiration date.
iv.
You’re avoiding him.
Chris knows you are, since you no longer come over to his house, claiming that you’re tired, or that you have an important order to bake for the next day. He would have believed you had he not seen you only once in the past three weeks.
Those were excuses, and each one of them weighed heavily on Chris’ heart, on his home too, his studio particularly, the one that got used to the sound of your laugh.
He misses you. He never thought he’d miss someone again, craving you presence as if every breath leaving his body depended on you. He wasn’t a stranger to intimacy, fleeting hookups every now and then. Strangers invited him to their bed, knowing what they were signing up for– one night of pleasure, never to be seen again, their faces blurring into an indistinct mass in his mind, like an impressionist painting where no features stand out. Yet, with you, every detail is etched in his memory.
He could pick you out of a crowded room, recognize the delicate curve of your neck, the fullness of your lips, and the way your nose scrunches when you smile.
He could draw the moles scattered on your body from memory alone, recognize your scent from miles away– your cotton shampoo and the specific laundry detergent you love to use and a hint of vanilla that never truly leaves you.
He’d remember the curve of your lashes and the cascading of your hair, the airy giggles you leave across like a trail for him to follow everywhere, and your eyes– the way they gazed at him, softening slightly around the edges, shining brightly as if crafted from stardust, the way they softened even more when you looked at Sowon, voice growing slightly high pitched as you listened to his daughter’s rambles.
How did you manage to make his home yours without ever living in it?
“Dad?” Sowon calls out and he snaps his head up, locking eyes with his little girl. She’s sitting on a high stool, munching on her pizza, a pensive look on her face.
“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks, walking over to her side.
“Where is Ynnie?” she asks in a small voice and he freezes, mulling over his response. He settles for the truth.
“I don't know, baby.”
“Does she not want to play with me anymore?” Sowon whispers, and he doesn’t remember his daughter ever being this tentative about voicing a question.
“No!” he's quick to reassure, cradling Sowon’s face between his much larger hands. “Of course not baby she loves you a lot.”
“Okay…” she nods, a small pout drawn on her lips still. Chris senses his heart physically crack in his chest.
“Do you wanna work in the studio with me?” he says in a joyful tone, and she instantly cheers up, the twinkle in her eyes found again. “Yes!”
“Finish your food first, okay Wonnie?”
“Okay!”
In Chris's life, regrets have been scarce, and certainly not in the form of Sowon, his beacon of hope, as he named her. Having her was beholding a sun wherever he went. However, a fear lingers, a whisper in his heart, suggesting that letting you go might be his one true regret.
So when his daughter falls asleep, he knocks on your door once again. He's suddenly transported into that cold night, months ago, where he asked you for flour. Had he known you were behind it he would’ve knocked much sooner.
“Hi,” you greet softly once you open the door. He takes a step forward, his wolf slippers matching with Sowon’s bump into your plain ones. You avert your gaze, finding anything but him to fixate on.
“You're avoiding me,” he says matter-of-factly, voice soft, resigning to you.
“I'm not,” you contradict, even as your eyes remain on the ground. He finds himself missing the color of your irises.
"Look at me, hm?" he implores, and you stay rooted in place. A soft sigh escapes him as he cradles your right cheek with his warm hand, his thumb gently sweeping across your cheekbone. "Yn, please, I want to look at you."
Maybe it is the pleading tone of his voice or the way his thumb tenderly grazes your skin, but something about Chris makes your resolve unravel, threads of fear unknotting before your eyes. So, you finally look at him. An exhale of relief escapes him.
And then you speak.
“You asked me if I was okay, and I didn't reply, back then,” you say, leaning your head further against his palm as tears well up in your waterline. “Do you still want to know my answer?”
“Of course, always.”
“I'm happy. With you, with sowon. I feel this warmth that I have never known before when I'm with you. It was almost easy to forget I've known you during winter,” you chuckle dryly, “but it is all an illusion, I lie to myself thinking I could stay, I… I can't, I-“
“What if I ask you to stay?” he brings your hand to his heart, where it beats erratically, pulse seeping through your skin.
He’s as scared as you are.
“Chris…”
“What if I told you, Yn, please stay with me,” he breathes out, guiding your hand to gently cup his cheek. “Would you? Would you stay?”
“I'm terrified,” you whisper, as he tilts his head, bestowing a tender kiss on your palm.
“I know, so am I. But, you make me believe that even my bruised parts are worthy of love.”
He wins, before years of skeletons and piled up doubts, he wins.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I'm staying.”
“You are?”
“I am,” you giggle lightly and he staggers back, the sun pouring into his smile.
“Um, wow, okay. Thank you for staying,” his voice sounds airy, happiness floating in his tone, and you find it contagious, imprinting into your own.
“Thank you for asking me to stay.”
“You made it less daunting,” he pats your head, smoothing your hair down. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
He giggles in response and you can't help but mirror the sound. “Why are you so nervous?”
“Whaaat? I'm not,” his tone grows high-pitched and you roll your eyes amusedly.
“What happened to connected Chris?”
“He is flustered by the girl he wrote about.”
Your cheeks tint red as he places a hand above your head, caging you in place.
“I think the girl should get paid for being the muse.”
“Oh yeah?” he smirks, “I'll think about it.” His grin softens, as a content expression washes over his face. You know you must look the same. “Let's talk more tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” you grin, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Chris.”
“Good night, yn.”
You quietly watch as he walks to his apartment door, his hand settling on the door knob. He pauses, for a few seconds where the air around you stills, before swiveling around and walking over to you again.
you win.
“I forgot something,” he breathes out, before crashing his lips onto yours, furiously, as if needing to imprint his essence onto you, tainting your soul the way you have tainted him, permanently altering the composition of his being. His lips move on yours as if they've done this before, a dance they have rehearsed countless times, perhaps in all the dreams Chris visited you in. Yet, nothing compares to how it feels to have him touch you, lick your lower lip and drag his hand up your hips, press you against your apartment door, and nibble at your neck.
Nothing could have prepared you for the passion he shows you, for how delicious it feels to be pressed against him, for the storm that your lips conjure, swirling in your heart in vibrant shades of red. Then, for the softness of his lips as they slow down their course, plump and rosy as they meet your own, tenderly, more gently, one kiss after the other. “My hope,” he whispers, as his lips find yours again, “my missing piece.”
He’s hot and cold, in yet seeking no out, finally yours.
bonus (one year later).
“So I brought the eggs, milk, sugar,” Chris enumerates as he takes out the groceries, and you turn to look at Sowon to find her already gazing at you, a mischievous look on her face.
“How much do you wanna bet he forgot flour?” you whisper and she giggles, burying her face in her hands to stifle her laugh.
“And… Wait, where is the flour?” he trails off and you burst out laughing, as you and Sowon high-five each other excitedly.
“Daddy, you are really bad at groceries.”
“Am I?” he smiles sheepishly, fiddling with his earlobe in a manner that still makes your heart melt, renders your insides butterflies speaking of Chris’ name.
“Yes, it’s good Mom bought it,” she says naturally, looking down at her iPad. You and Chris freeze in your tracks, eyes instantly locking with one another, yours and his, glossy with emotion, a loving tide enveloping you both.
It's her first time calling you mom.
You swallow down the lump in your throat, crafted not by thorns but by petals, not by ache but with love, before placing your chin on the small of her shoulder, murmuring softly. "Mm, will you help me bake, baby?"
“Yes! I wanna be a baker when I grow up, just like you.”
“What happened to being a stylist?”
“I can't be both?” she frowns innocently.
“You can be anything you want, princess.” you bop her nose and she giggles, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.
In the grip of winter, Chris discovers a warmth that defies the season, casting off years of cold from the recesses of his bones. A soft smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, his hopes, his girls, the three of you clad in wolf slippers.
He’ll propose to you tomorrow.
#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids angst#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#skz imagines#stray kids imagine#stray kids reactions#skz angst#skz fanfic#chan fluff#chan x reader#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#skz au
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IN THE NETHERWOOD
PART III ♠️ NSFW TEASER
A/N: oh lawd. MDNI. Explicit below the cut.
CW: monster-fucking • breeding • werewolf fucking
Sanemi pumped his still-hard length as he kicked off his breeches. “On your knees.”
With excitement fluttering in your stomach, you complied, rolling to your front and balancing your weight on your spread knees, holding your ass high up in the air.
You looked over your shoulder back at your mate, eyes too wide and too innocent as you wiggled your hips at him in invitation.
Despite having only been intimate with him for a few days, you already had a good read on what made the Wolf tick.
And the best way was this — to beg for more while offering yourself up in total submission.
He may have been the Wolf, but you held his leash; and you knew exactly how to pull it to get what you wanted. Right then, you wanted him to fuck and fill you until your brain went numb, and your lower belly bloated with him — just like it had in the cave den.
“Beautiful,” Sanemi crouched behind you, breathing in the scent of your musk. You moaned loudly as the Wolf’s tongue flattened against your leaking folds and dragged up, gathering the mixture of his seed with your pleasure.
His hands ran down the backs of your thighs, nails dragging lightly along your skin. “As much as I love when you hold yourself up high for me, I think I want try something new.” He purred, running his hot mouth over your mark. “Do you think you can handle that, Lamb?”
You ground your hips against the feathery bed, nodding furiously. “Yes, Wolf. I can take whatever it is you give me.”
“Sweet little thing,” Sanemi praised, his hands easing you flat against his — your — bed. “You’re such a good Lamb, always eager to take care of her Wolf.”
“Her mate,” you corrected, moaning into the blanket.
Sanemi’s hands smoothed up the inside of your thighs as he pushed your legs wider apart, guiding them into a wide “v” spread across the bed. “My apologies, Lamb,” his fingers wound in your hair and pulled your head back, the Huntsman leaning over top you to graze his lips against yours, your neck straining and your throat utterly exposed. “You take such good care of your Mate.”
Sanemi released the hold he had on your hair, allowing your head to fall forward against the blankets.
You felt him press his engorged tip flush against your entrance, the two of you hissing at the friction sparked as his member met your waiting, sensitive flesh. He nudged forward slightly, just past that first ring of tight muscle before stilling so he could get himself into position.
Your legs were spread wide, but Sanemi stretched his even further, placing one knee on either side of your upper thighs. One muscled arm wound around your front, resting across your collarbone until his hand could grip your shoulder and the other went to wrap around your middle, his fingers digging slightly into the sensitive skin of your waist.
His torso was pressed flush against your back, every hard groove of his muscles pressing into each sensitive spot along your spine. With his teeth against your ear, Sanemi then allowed his body to relax, his weight pushing his cock in and in until the base of his groin was flat against the soft curve of your backside.
“It is my duty as your Mate to ensure I fill you up with pups,” his breath was hot against your ear and it made you shiver, the tremors cascading down your body going right to where you were joined, making the Wolf at your back rumble.
“And that is a duty I take very seriously, little Lamb.”
#sanemi shinazugawa#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#kinktober#kinktober 2023#kny#kny x reader#kny fanfic#kny sanemi#sanemi x reader#kny smut#demon slayer smut
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Can't Help Falling in Love.
Info: This is my first timothée x oc fic.
Angelisse Emmanuelle Evans is a girl who seems to have everything—a booming career with a promotion on the way, a family that adores her, and a long-time boyfriend who just proposed marriage. Everything was perfect until she discovered that she's actually already married—with a legitimate marriage certificate. The husband turns out to be Timothée Chalamet, Hollywood's Golden Boy hearthrob. Angelisse seeks Timothée out to convince him to help her get an annulment.
Under the neon lights,
I think we might get married in Vegas.
February 13th, 2022
In the vibrant and pulsating lights of the night, Angelisse Evans stood at their table while her friends danced the night away. Tonight was her best friend's bachelorette party.
“Come on, Angel, loosen up!” The bride-to-be, Kate, pushed a shot of vodka in front of her.
Angelisse rolled her eyes at her friend. She had never been the life of the party, to say the least. She was the type to hang back and watch—maybe dance a bit, but never really let loose.
“And get a terrible hangover the next day? No thanks.” she said, pushing the shot glass away.
Kate wasn't taking no for an answer. She grabbed Angelisse's hand, led her to the dance floor, and urged her to dance. Angelisse hesitated, but then something took over, and she started to move to the beat. She was surprised to find herself enjoying it.
The beat of the music was like electricity, vibrating through her body. The air was charged with the energy of the crowd of people dancing and mingling. The music was like a drug, and she couldn't get enough of it. Angelisse lost herself in the moment, feeling the energy flow through her body as she danced the night away.
As the night wore on, Angelisse found herself increasingly in the element. She and her friends had spent hours dancing and drinking. Angelisse let out a laugh and threw her head back, her long, dark hair cascading down her back. She knew she looked good, and she made sure to show it off, her hands tracing down her body and her hips swaying to the beat.
"You're glowing, Angel,” Kate said, sidling up next to her best friend. “Having a good time?” She cocked an eyebrow, but there was a playful spark in her eyes.
Angelisse laughed, feeling a rush of warmth inside. “I am,” she replied, raising her glass to her lips. “This night is just too good to miss.” She winked at Kate, her head feeling a little fuzzy from the alcohol. For a moment, it was as if she felt the whole world was hers.
“You know, you're a lot of fun when you loosen up,” Kate teased, nudging her playfully. “Maybe you just need someone to bring out the best in you.”
Angelisse stumbled into the bathroom, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. She went to a stall, trying to regain her balance as she went. She clumsily knocked into a man who was peeing in a urinal, and she stumbled, her face heating up and her eyes darting between the man and the stalls.
The man, with messy curly hair and green eyes, turned to Angelisse as she stumbled past him. He eyed her up and down, taking in her drunken state and disheveled appearance. “This is for men only,” he slurred out, gesturing to the urinal he was standing next to. “You're not supposed to be here.”
Angelisse looked at him, her eyes widening as they settled on his unbuttoned pants. She was drunk, but she couldn't help but take note of his boldness.
“The line in the female bathrooms—it's too long,” she slurred. “I really need to pee.”
The brunette stumbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. “Thank God.” she moaned out, the sounds of the toilet flushing in the background.
“Ouch, fuck, my feet,” she complained as soon as she stumbled out, stomping her heels on the tiled floor. “These heels are killing me,” she muttered as she tried to take off her heels.
“Miss, relax, okay? Let me do it.” The man with messy curls offered to help her take off her heels. “Miss, steady, steady, alright?” He knelt down and slowly removed her shoes. Angelisse moaned at the feeling, “Fuck, right there.” Angelisse moaned loudly, “Oh god, yes!”
After several minutes of painful struggling, Angelisse's heels were finally off and her feet were free. She let out a loud groan of relief.
“Oh, that's better,” she said, wiggling her toes and flexing her ankles. She looked down at the man who had helped her, and her breath caught in her throat. He was stunning, with soft brown messy curls, a jawline sharp enough to cut a finger, and piercing green eyes. And he had helped her with her heels! Angelisse felt her cheeks burn, her eyes darting down towards her feet, then back up to his face. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” the man smirked, watching her blush.
Angelisse felt a rush of adrenaline as she realized that this man was flirting with her.
“I'm glad that I could help.” he continued, his eyes glimmering in the low light.
Angelisse felt herself melt in his gaze. She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, he spoke.
“What's your name, miss?”
Angelisse felt the world stop. This man, this beautiful, perfect man, was asking her name! She felt like she was in a dream, and she didn't want to wake up.
“I'm Angelisse,” she said, her eyes shining and her heart fluttering. “And you are?”
“I'm Timothée.” He flashed a smile at her.
“Timothée,” Angelisse repeated, letting his name roll off her tongue. “It's nice to meet you.”
She felt her cheeks heat up, the alcohol making her more confident and brazen than usual. She twirled a strand of her long brown hair between her fingers, her hazel eyes glimmering as she looked up at him.
“So, Timothée,” she purred, a playful smile on her face. “What brings you here tonight?”
Timothée could feel his heart beating faster in his chest as Angelisse looked at him with those sultry, hazel eyes. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to meet such a beautiful woman like her, and he was determined to make the most of it.
“I'm here for the same reason as everyone else,” Timothée replied smoothly, his eyes crinkling in a charming smile. “To have a good time.” He couldn't help but add, “And maybe to meet someone special, like you?”
Angelisse giggled. “It's my best friend's bachelorette party tonight.”
“A bachelorette party, huh?” Timothée replied, his gaze traveling down Angelisse's body, taking every inch of her. “Sounds like a lot of fun.” He smirked, his voice husky. “I take it you're one of the bridesmaids?”
Angelisse giggled again, her hands running over her body in a playful and flirty manner. “I'm the maid of honor,” she replied coyly. “And I'm having the time of my life.”
Timothée couldn't take his eyes off of her, she seemed too good to be true. She was a goddess, and her playful and confident demeanor was like a breath of fresh air and an absolute turn-on.
Timothée couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so attracted to someone, and he knew he had to make a move. He took a step closer to Angelisse, his gaze never leaving hers.
“You're absolutely stunning, you know that?” he said, his voice rough with desire. “I'm one lucky guy.”
Angelisse felt her heart flutter. She had never felt like this with anyone in her life.
Timothée closed the distance and gently placed his hand on her waist. He could feel the heat radiating off of her body, and he knew that she was just as attracted to him as he was to her.
“Would you like to go somewhere more private, Angelisse?” he whispered, his voice husky. “I'd love to get to know you better.”
Angelisse felt shivers go down her spine at his words. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his, and followed him out of the bathroom and into the crowds. Timothée led Angelisse through the crowd, his hand still on her waist protectively. They reached a quiet corner of the club, and Timothée paused, looking at Angelisse.
“Is this private enough for you?” he asked, his eyes locking into hers.
Angelisse nodded, her cheeks pink from the alcohol and the excitement. “Perfect.” she replied, smiling at him like a lovesick teenage girl.
“So, what's your story? What do you do in life? Besides being impossibly handsome, I mean.” she asked as she sipped on her drink.
“I do stuff. What about you? Besides being incredibly irresistible, I mean.” he asked with a smile.
Angelisse giggled, her eyes shining with flirtation. “I'm a financial consultant.” She exaggerated, her words coming out slurred because of the alcohol.
“I've never seen a girl as beautiful as you are.” Timothée smiled as he stared at Angelisse.
“Take a picture, it'll last longer.”
“Don't mind if I do.” Timothée chuckled, pulling out a camera from his jacket. He fumbled with it for a moment before pressing the button and capturing a photo of her.
“You're a goddess, baby girl.” Timothée chuckled, his hand on Angelisse's leg.
“Let's get out of here,” Timothée whispered in her ear. “I know a place where we can have some real fun.”
Angelisse stumbled after him, a look of excitement on her face. Despite their drunken state, she felt like she was on top of the world, with the most gorgeous man in the room at her side.
“Lead the way.” she giggled.
“Oh, baby, I think I'm in love with you,” Timothée continued, his hand in hers. “Marry me?” Timothée asked, stumbling forward.
“Think you can handle me?” she purred, her hand brushing against Timothée's cheek flirtatiously.
Timothée smirked at her, his eyes twinkling. He loved a challenge, and Angelisse was definitely that. “I can handle anything you can dish out,” he replied, his voice full of confidence. “But the question is, can you handle me?”
Angelisse returned his smirk, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “I can handle anything, babe,” she replied. “And I'll bet you can't handle me at all.”
“Well, I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go to.” Timothée smirked. “No one will know.”
“Let's do it,” she replied, her eyes shining in the night light. “Just for tonight, just for the fun of it.”
Angelisse had never done anything like this before, but she was ready for anything.
Timothée's heart skipped a beat. This woman was intoxicating. She was a fire that couldn't be tamed, but he loved every second of it.
“Let's do it!” Timothée smiled like the Cheshire cat, grabbing her hand and pulling her along.
They found the chapel, and Timothée led her inside. They giggled as they stumbled through the church, giggling and kissing. They knew they shouldn't be there, but they didn't care. They were living in the moment, completely and utterly reckless.
12:30 AM, February 14, 2022
“Do you take-”
”I do.” Timothée smiled like the Cheshire cat, his hands in hers.
“Do you take-"
“I totally do!” Angelisse giggled.
“Wow, you two are in a rush to get married, huh?” The officiant chuckled, “And by the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
Timothée leaned in, his lips meeting Angelisse's in a passionate kiss. He held her close, his hands roaming over her body as he poured all of his desire and need into the kiss.
Angelisse melted in his arms, her hands tracing over his body and tangling in his hair. She had never felt so passionate or so desired, and she wanted this moment to last forever.
#timothée chalamet#timmy#timothee chalamet#timmy chalamet#timothee#lil timmy tim#timothée chalamet imagine#timothée chalamalabingbong#timothee chalamet fanfiction#timothee fanfic#timothee x oc#timothée chalamet x oc#accidental marriage#timothée fanfic#fanfiction#my fic#fiction#timothée hal chalamet#timothée hal#timothée#chalamet#timothee chalamet imagine
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First chapter of Alexis and Erica’s story (idk what to call it yet but suggestions are welcome)
all chapters linked here
A sudden explosion vibrated through the ground beneath me. Blinding light scorched my eyes for only a moment, and my ears rang in the silence afterwards. Someone was calling me, but I was too shocked to respond.
What happened?
[They were trees]
Another blast of thunder startled me from my stupor; I looked wide-eyed out the basement windows as rain flooded the ditches beneath them. I hadn't realized how bad the weather was until then. Sure, I’d heard the rain, but I'd assumed it was just that: rain, not a raging storm. My dad had been calling me to see if I'd heard the thunder. Of course I had. Was there anyone within a five mile radius who hadn't?
As I sat staring out the rain-drizzled window, another bolt of lightning touched down so close I could see the tree in our yard that was hit, now blackened and charred on one side by the strike. I stood up, backing away from the window beside my head. Suddenly, I didn’t feel very safe, even if I was underground where the storm supposedly couldn’t get to me. The summer storms were early this year. They’d come back in full-force. As alarming as they sounded, I had been enjoying their rumbling ambiance — until now.
Yet another flash nearly blinded me and I stepped another few paces away from the window. Its explosion still rang in my ears. The few basement lights my dad had so lazily forgot to replace sparked up with new life, and for a quiet few seconds, everything was fine. Then, along with another eerily soundless flash, the bulbs that had been shining before crackled, buzzed, and shattered. I looked around dumbfounded as all the lights flickered out, like candles all snuffed out at once. Dad yelled something about the house being struck, but I could hardly focus on his voice while my vision dazzled in the afterglow.
I was so shaken that I couldn’t move from my hunched-over stance that I’d taken at the very last minute to protect myself. Thunder rolled overhead, accompanied by the sounds of my family scrambling around one floor above me. The basement, being mostly underground and without many windows, was almost completely dark without any working lights. Where the ping-pong table and bar stools stood a minute ago, gaped a black void littered with glass from the shattered bulbs above me. I straightened slowly in the dark cavern of the basement, unsure what to do. I couldn't step any further forward. The lights had shattered, meaning the way upstairs would be lined with shards of glass that I'd have to navigate through blindly.
Another rumble of thunder rattled the small windows behind me. I turned around towards them, hoping to gain at least a little more light, but with the sky an ugly blackened grey, it didn't help much. The couch I'd been sitting on had to be right in front of me, though I couldn’t see it — my phone too. My phone! My phone has a flashlight!
Reaching for the couch so I could get my bearings, I felt around as my heart pounded in my ears. I would be fine, so long as I had some light. However, the couch I’d been sitting on a few moments ago was no longer right in front of me. My stomach dropped like I was standing somewhere extremely high up instead.
I stumbled backwards, falling onto the kids table behind me just as another blinding flash filled the room, illuminating the little cityscape my brother and I had built together on its surface. As I fell further than wherever the floor should’ve been to stop me, electrical currents lashed through the air and seized my body like miniature versions of the lightning in the sky. They burned, making me reach out for something, anything, to pull me out of whatever I was trapped in. Light cascaded out of the darkness, filling my vision as sparking veins surged down and around me. More and more currents of crackling electricity continued to latch onto me, tearing through my body as I writhed in pain. Everything hurt like I was on fire. Then everything was gone — lost to an ever-growing light as I tumbled through nothing.
Oof. Less than a moment later, I landed forcefully on my back, knocking the wind from my lungs. My vision slowly adjusted to the painful brightness that surrounded me moments after standing in almost total darkness. I quickly shut my eyes and lay there, dazed. Slowly, I moved a shaking hand to massage my temples, trying to ease away the pain as I sat up.
After a long moment to recuperate, I shielded my eyes with a hand and tried to look around. What the..? I was in a field, with grass below me and the glaring sun shining high above me. Even weirder still was the fact that there wasn't a cloud in the sky, except for a few small wispy ones on the horizon. Where am I? What happened to the storm?
Once my eyes finally adjusted, I stood. Keeping my hand up to shield the sun, I looked around, but nothing seemed familiar. All I could spot was a forest and mountains in the distance, so I started off in that direction, hoping I'd come across a trail or cabin or some form of civilization when I got there. As I trekked the distance to the forest, I realized that the grass beneath me was all pristinely short. The field couldn’t be natural; the grass should've grown up to my shins at least.
That’s good, right? One of those 'signs of civilization' I’m looking for. If I followed the cut grass I might find a house or a park entrance. Twice I had to stop to rest my legs, which spasmed unexpectedly. I had my suspicions that the electrocution I experienced earlier was behind it. I was very lucky I hadn’t died. Determined to find out where I landed, I kept walking towards the forest. Surely there would be someone out there who could help me figure out where I was.
However, what I'd thought was a forest at a distance seemed to be something else entirely when I got closer. The 'trees' were really just low bushes that only came to the edge of my knees. It was strangely unsettling; a whole field of small bushes with no actual trees in sight. These must be some kind of fruit bushes, right? And the grass is cut because this is someone's farm and this is their garden. That was a much less unsettling explanation.
Why I randomly appeared in the middle of someone's field, I had no idea, but if this was a garden, I didn't want to go trampling through it. I changed course and walked along the edge of the bushes for a while, hoping against hope it would lead me to whoever owned the place. As I walked alongside the bushes, I began to notice more and more concerning details. There seemed to be multiple types of strange bushes all clumped together here, and some open patches there. In fact, nothing was ordered in any obvious way and there wasn't even a fence around it to keep animals out.
My train of thought switched paths. It's a wild patch of bushes. Those exist, right? Of course they do. Whoever owns this property, whoever mows the grass here, must've found the bushes growing naturally and decided to mow around them instead of cutting them down. Deep in thought, I didn't react in time to avoid the rock sticking out of the ground in front of me. The tip of my shoe hit it at just the right angle so that my leg was thrown from under me. When I tripped, I fell directly into the bushes. Ow. My face was a bit scratched up; I felt it on my hands and knees, searching for any major cuts. Thankfully I hadn't gouged my eye out.
I glanced around the underbrush, pulling myself up from the ground. The scenery under there was vaguely.. familiar — like I’d seen it before, though it wasn’t that same thing. I froze, and an unnerving thought crossed my mind. Slowly, confusedly, I lowered my head all the way down and looked up at the bushes from the ground. They were trees. From ground level the bushes looked exactly like trees.
I quickly scanned my surroundings and found that, from my new perspective here, the grass would in fact be up to my knees, if not higher, and the distant forest I thought I saw earlier really was a forest at this height, with underbrush and shrubs to match. What is this? I could feel my heartbeat quickening as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
Hearing a bird call, I tore my head from the ground and sat up, dreading what I would find. A flock of birds flew from a bush-tree nearby. Every bird was about the size of a pin. The whole flock combined was still smaller than any real bird I knew, besides maybe a hummingbird. What is happening!? Am I going crazy? I tried to think through everything that had happened, kneeling in the field surrounded by small broken trees. None of it made sense. The pieces didn't fully click until I heard a scream echo from the edge of the woods.
My heart flew into my throat and I flinched at the sound. Still in shock, I slowly shuffled over to where I’d heard the noise, bending my head lower to see under the treetops. At first I saw nothing, only empty forest. Then some small movement caught my attention as something disappeared behind the trunk of a nearby tree. Without thinking, I grabbed the tree, or bush, or whatever it was. I meant to pull it back so I could see behind it, but I ended up pulling it right out of the ground instead, misjudging my strength.
Another scream pierced the silent air followed by someone faintly shouting "Run!" I watched, too shocked to move, as a young couple ran deeper into the woods, the taller of the two couldn't have been much larger than the length of my hand. I sat up, my vision spinning. Everything, the plants, the birds... This wasn't my brain misinterpreting strange things, the whole world was somehow shrunk to an incredibly small scale. Either that, or I was somehow massive. Both sounded ridiculous — too impossible to be true. Yet, I was holding an entire tree in my hand.
After I finally snapped out of my daze, the people had long fled. I stood wearily and dropped the slightly crushed tree, a fresh sense of fear overcoming me. Is this my world; did the weird light grow me somehow? Did it take me to a really small world? And if this is an entirely new world, how do I get back to mine? How do I get back home!?
I dashed off in a panic, running off the way I came. This time I had no trouble getting across the field — adrenaline doing most of the hard work for me. When I arrived at the spot I'd first woken up in, I stooped, desperately looking for any signs of the strange electricity, or any familiar thing I could use to get home. Nothing. I was trapped. I scanned the horizon in all directions, searching desperately. The sun was just starting to set, soon it would be pitch black out here in this empty field, and I was starting to dread the possibility that I'd be sleeping in the grass that night.
Tears balled up in the corners of my eyes as my vision blurred. I sank to my knees and curled up, wishing I was back in the basement of my house. Being in a dark room during a power outage in a monster storm was infinitely more comforting than this. At least then I'd know where I am; what world I'm in. With blurred vision I looked to the sky, begging for whatever brought me here.
Please! Please take me back! I want to go home! Above me, the sky had faded from blue to gold to pink, and finally settled on a bluish inky black. My tears had dried on my face, and I was exhausted. I curled up on the ground and accepted defeat. Maybe if I sleep and wake up all of this will be a dream. After what seemed like hours of laying dreary and restless in the grass, I heard what sounded like machinery rumbling.
I got up instantly. My head spun from sitting up too quickly as I tried to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. As the strange sound grew closer, I could tell the source of the noise was behind me, where the forest was. It grew louder while I searched the field; the thing was getting so close that I could hear it making more of a whirr than a rumble. What is that sound? Suddenly, lights flickered on in the sky and I stood, thinking they must be flashlights, held by people my own size. But as they neared and the noise grew even louder, more and more light filled the field in front of me. My hopes of being rescued were short lived at best. An awful sinking feeling came over me as I realized I was not being saved.
Helicopters the size of my forearms came barreling up the field faster than I could react. Blinding floodlights suddenly attacked me from all sides, and I could hear faint unintelligible shouting over the cacophony of the helicopter blades. I could just make out a man’s voice yelling “Take it down!” My brain screamed at me to do something, so I did the only thing I could do: run. I ran like my life depended on it, which it probably might. I had no time to think; I just ran like mad towards the darkest place I could find, half blinded by light and half blinded by darkness at the same time.
Through my confusion, I could make out a large shadow ahead of me. Another part of the mountain range loomed in the dark up ahead and I dashed towards it. The mountains were a few feet taller than I was; if I could just get further ahead of the helicopters, I could hide in their dark shadows. With an extra burst of speed, I was able to put enough distance between me and whoever was chasing me to find a place to hide.
Scrambling over cliffsides, I was able to find a craggy overhang that jutted out significantly from the rest of the mountainside. The crag cast a large shadow beneath it, big enough for me to fit under. Quickly, I slid under the overhang, slicing my leg on a rock in the process, but that was the least of my worries.
Alone and in pain, I watched wide-eyed as floodlights circled around overhead. Whoever was up there searched the ground thoroughly, but I was safe under the cover of the shadows, which only darkened with their lights from above. Finally, my pursuers split off in different directions, giving me a moment to breathe and think.
How did they know I was here? The only answer I could think of was that the people I ran into in the woods earlier had called the army after me. Or maybe a plane had spotted me overhead and now the government was out to get me. Whatever happened, one thing was certain: I was stuck there until those helicopters left. What happens when morning comes? The thought had only just occurred to me after I'd been sitting there for about an hour. Once the sun rises they'll easily be able to see me here.
My only options were to keep running or turn myself in. If I turned myself in, whoever was searching for me up there would probably lock me away and do experiments on me or whatnot, so I guessed I'd just have to keep running. I groaned silently at the thought, my legs were tired enough from racing through the field and being hugged up tight to stay under the rock above me, nevermind the fact that my right leg was throbbing from the cut. Thankfully the slice wasn't too deep, I hadn’t lost too much blood.
I couldn’t tell how long I’d been under the overhang for — not even by the moon; it wasn't in the part of the sky I could see in front of me. Everything ached from sitting scrunched up under the rocks for so long. I so badly wanted to stretch myself out, but then it would only be a matter of time before the helicopters spotted me. Wait. What was that?
The noisy churn of an engine silenced my thoughts. Soon, a rugged vehicle came barreling down the trail that passed by my overhang, seemingly following the helicopters. It came to a sudden halt as the trail abruptly ended with a wall of rock. Someone, presumably a park ranger of some kind, stepped angrily out of the car. "I guess I'll wait out this crazy search party from under here. Don't know what they're looking for, but it can't be good."
I held very still as a figure stepped beneath the ledge I'd been hiding under. Really? I thought, exasperated. Of all the places someone could stay in the entire mountain range, why did they pick this one? What are they even doing out here in the middle of the night, anyway? Silently, I begged him not to notice me, and for a while he didn't. The man stayed in the front of the overhang, looking out into the dark while I pressed myself into the rocks behind him.
"Ugh, ew, what did I just sit in?" A small light flickered on in front of him, illuminating the rock I'd cut myself on. "Is this.. blood?" Oh no. The ranger returned to his truck and a fog light suddenly cut through the shadow I so desperately hid in. The beam of light traveled agonizingly slowly. Sliding down the bloody trail, to my leg, then all the way up to my face. The man gasped and stumbled off the truck once he saw me.
With the light pointed at my head, all I could see of the man was his silhouette, outlined by the glow of the searchlight as he slowly backed away from me. "Oh god, oh shit, what are you? I- You must be what they're looking for up there.” I held completely still, a bit shocked at how small his voice sounded, though I knew I shouldn’t be. Step by careful step, the ranger backed away from me until he’d cautiously slid the driver’s seat door open and reached inside.
“Fox Den, this is Scout Four, I have a.. I- I don’t know what to call this in as, but-“ "No, wait!" I cried out, "Don't let them know I'm here!" Talking only made it worse. He spoke through his radio in a hurry now, waving his arms wildly at the sky as the helicopters circled back at the sound of my voice. "IT'S OVER HERE!" Two of the spotlights to my left turned and started heading my way; I had to stop him. I didn’t want people searching for me on the ground as well as in the air; they’d find me in no time.
Like a reflex, my hand shot out and grabbed him, but to my surprise he wiggled free and started screaming louder. The choppers were closing in, there was no time; their droning hum echoed loudly off the cliffs. I slammed my fist down on the light and reached for him again, grabbing him as tightly as I could and yanking him back under the ledge. With the floodlight destroyed, the shadows quickly covered any trace that I was there. A few nerve wracking seconds passed as the spotlights flew by overhead and I breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn't spotted me.
"Don't scream," I whispered once I felt it was safe, "and I'll let you go, I promise." I didn't want to scare this poor person. They were already freaked out enough as it was. The man was silent in my grasp, so I slowly unclenched my fist. Little snaps and crackles echoed as I released him, and his body limply fell into the palm of my hand. Oh no. No, no, no..
Quickly, I scrambled into the moonlight, staring in horrified shock as his corpse — mangled beyond recognition — was revealed. I screamed, dropping his body and clinging to the rocks in terror. What have I done!? I desperately rubbed the tears from my eyes as blinding light was thrown into my face for what felt like the millionth time that day.
"No!" I yelped in terror, "I didn't mean to kill him! I swear I didn't mean to!" Choking on a sob, I tried to run blindly, but only tripped and raked my hands over the rocks surrounding me, tearing up my fingers. Blood trickled over the mountainside as I grasped the rocky cliff to right myself. I turned to the choppers just in time to see projectiles launching directly at me.
I squeezed my eyes tight as tears streamed down my cheeks. I could only hope that my death would be quick. When the projectiles struck, electricity surged through me and I cried out in pain. They weren't trying to kill me, they were trying to subdue me. It would be easier for them to drag me away if I were knocked out. More rounds were fired off as I desperately fought to stay conscious. I refused to be put under. But as the second round hit its mark, I spasmed and my vision went dark.
I hope y’all like this because there’s a lot more to come.
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Here's some degradation/humiliation Aether/Swiss I wrote to celebrate @jimothybarnes follower milestone! So proud of you my love, everyone say thank you Jimothy for being a stellar human being who deserves the best life has to offer (I hope you like it 🥹)
unbeta'd because jim is my beta and i wanted to surprise them so if you see any mistakes close your eyes please
a little over 1k of absolute filth, including begging, crying, blood and heavy degrading under the cut
18+
Swiss stands completely naked in the middle of the room, cock painfully hard and standing at attention. The tip is swollen red, pre dripping like a faucet. He’s so turned on he’s starting to sweat, perspiration beading at his brows and cascading down his too hot body. He’s surprised it doesn’t evaporate with how his skin feels like it’s on fire.
Aether is sitting in front of him, sprawled casually in the red velvet recliner as he picks at his nails disinterestedly. He’s fully clothed and mildly horny, but this is his favourite part. He plans to push it for as long as he can.
They’ve been here for an hour. Swiss displays himself with no modesty while Aether watches from underneath his lashes, feigning boredom.
A low whine escapes Swiss at the lack of stimulation, Aether’s eyes cut to his face instantly, his expression turning hard.
“Do you have something to say, pet?” Aether presses, rolling his neck as he sits up straight, eyes burning a hole in Swiss at the sudden attention. Swiss knows better than to say anything, fearing the repercussions, he bows his head in submission and tries to stifle the pathetic mewl that builds in his chest.
“You should be embarrassed, baring yourself like this in front of me. It’s laughable really, how turned on you are, and I haven’t even touched you yet. I don’t think I will,” Aether’s words are cut off by the desperate whimper Swiss couldn’t contain even if he tried. “So needy,” he tsks, shaking his head as he leans back into the recliner. Aether kicks a foot up, hitching it to his knee as his hand taps a rhythm on his shin. His posture is lazy, relaxed, the exact opposite of how Swiss is strung so tight that one wrong move would launch him into the ceiling.
Swiss’ eyes follow the movement of Aether’s fingers as they continue to dance, envying his fucking shin that he’s touching it so casually and not putting those fingers to use on his body. More pre leaks out, the splatter of it hitting the ground sounds like an explosion in the quiet room. His nerves feel frayed as he grips his hands tightly behind his back, claws digging into his palm hard enough to draw blood. The smell of copper floats around the room and Swiss swallows audibly as he waits for it to hit Aether’s nose. He can see the twitch of his nostrils as it finally meets its mark, and the disdain falling across his face is instantaneous.
“Stupid bitch,” Aether spits out, launching to the edge of his seat, feet planted firmly on the ground as he leans forward. His amethyst eyes sparking with the quintessence magic that courses beneath his skin. Swiss keens, fighting every urge in his body to drop to his knees and beg the ghoul to fuck him into oblivion.
He knows that won’t work, has tried it before with no success. If it was Dew, he’d watch the fire ghoul’s eyes light up in ecstasy, sparing no time to break the scene and fuck Swiss into the next dimension. Mountain would have taken pity on him fifteen minutes in, spending the rest of the time opening him up carefully to prepare for his monster cock. Hell, even Rain, who has a hidden mean streak of his own, and a well-deserved one at that, wouldn’t commit for this long. But Aether has a sense of control that he envies. He loves feeling completely in thrall and letting him take the reins.
“Pathetic little Swiss with his pathetic little cock. I bet you’ve never been able to please someone with that. I could fit the entire thing into my mouth and not even feel it. Would you like that, pet? Me putting that tiny cock in my mouth and wishing I could have a real dick instead?” Aether purrs as Swiss burns with shame, wanting exactly that. He’d tickle the back of Aether’s throat with his cock, but the quint ghoul would stubbornly refuse to gag on principle.
“I should get Dew in here, even his cock would give me more pleasure than that sorry excuse between your legs. Look at you standing there and leaking all over the floor. You’re making a mess. Clean it up.” Aether snaps and points a finger down to the ground, Swiss dropping instantly to his knees. He leans down to the floor, tongue lapping up the salty pre that forms a puddle below where he was standing. He goes to stand up when he finishes but Aether hisses down at him, eyes practically glowing at the sight.
“Grovel slave, stay down there and beg me to let you come.” His words are sharp, biting. Swiss laces his fingers together like he’s praying to a higher power, braving the risk of making direct eye contact so he can see if his words please Aether.
“Please sir, please let me come. I’ll do anything, I’m such a good slut for you. I’m a pathetic little cum whore. I’m useless, worthless. I’m a cocksleeve who shouldn’t speak, the only thing I’m good for is a warm hole to put your dick in.” Swiss pleads, the words flying out of him as he tries desperately to find the magic combination, the secret code that will make Aether see he deserves to come.
“Cock craving whore,” Aether coos patronizingly, sitting back in his chair with a relaxed pose. The only thing betraying him is the tent in his pants that looks almost uncomfortable. “You’d be lucky to even see my dick, I wouldn’t bother trying to stick it in your stretched hole.”
Swiss is so close it’s painful, his cock throbbing with every second that passes.
“I think we’re done here,” Aether states, raising himself to his feet as he looks down at Swiss in disgust. “You’re so pathetic that the thought of you coming all over yourself untouched doesn’t even interest me. I’d rather watch paint dry than see your embarrassingly small cock kicking as you make even more of a mess on the floor. How does it feel to be a constant let down? Unable to please your partners, leaving them wanting someone who can actually make them come. No one wants you; this is a waste of my time.”
Swiss flushes in shame, tears building in his eyes as he takes the words Aether tosses at him, embarrassed at how his cock jumps at every degrading word that leaves the ghoul’s mouth as he makes his way to the door. The tears spill over, Aether pausing with his hand on the doorknob as he turns back to the multi-ghoul.
“I didn’t think you could get any more pathetic, yet here we are.” Aether is taking slow steps back to the centre of the room, his gaze burning into Swiss as tears fall down his cheeks, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he watches Aether stalking like a predator circling his prey.
“Please sir,” Swiss begs once more, a pathetic last attempt to capture the attention of the ghoul before him. Aether comes to a stop before him, so close Swiss could touch him if he was worthy of such contact.
Swiss inhales the spicy scent of quintessence in the air for a second before it tingles along his body, wrenching an orgasm from him with every lick of energy that zaps his nerves. He’s coming instantly, shooting without a target, splats of his ejaculation landing on Aether’s shoes from where he stands.
Swiss’ body shakes in the aftermath, his head blissfully in the clouds as he stares at Aether in adoration. Aether smiles down at him, reaching a hand out to softly cup his cheek.
“Good ghoul,” he says fondly, and Swiss knows he’ll have to clean up his mess later, but Aether lets him bask in the afterglow of his orgasm with the kindness he reserves for the end of their play. Aether runs his fingers through Swiss’ hair, massaging gently at the base of his horns and whispers sweet nothings, a complete turn from how he’s acted over the last hour, but exactly what Swiss needs to ride the high of his well-deserved subspace.
#i'll just leave this here#thank you jimothy for the idea#i've never really wrote either of these ghouls yet and it was a fun experiment#swiss ghoul#aether ghoul#degredation kink#humiliation kink#small dick humiliation#crying#tw blood#quintessence magic used in inappropriate ways#swiss would beg so good#the band ghost ficlet#the band ghost fanfic#gloom writes#gloom loves jimothy
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"I've always wondered...."
The words take on a breathless quality as lidded ember gazes upwards, directly at the oldest friend she has ever had. Familiar sunkissed skin now bore smudged ruby petals of her lips, deep sea locks tussled. It mirrored the cascade of crimson hair upon her pillow, the waves of silken dress that remained ruffled. "Why did you still believe in me back then?"
In the heat and drunkenness of affection the thought still lingers between kisses. It stays as she is pressed deeper into her own bed. It remain on the tip of her tongue with ever parting of lips. A hue of coral rest upon Himeko's complexion, almost artfully smugged. It's a debauchery that is only for his eyes, that's Andreas sculpted into her like the rose bud bites that are planted around on her neck.
That promise to extend.
"I know-" She cannot help but wonder if this indulgences spurs her mind further. When was the last time she felt anything but graceful and controlled, the rise and fall of her chest quick and the desire of heart and mind linked. "I know it has nothing to do with anything like our closeness now, we both were too young for something like this."
To want him, to know why he wanted her.
"My Andreas..." Himeko's voice deepened, low yet no less passionate. No less laden with love. The ember dreams in her eyes do not muddle her gaze from him but only incorporates him within those stars. Gentle hands guide him ever closer as the woman's lips curled into a breathtaking smile of disbelief.
"Are you the first to trailblaze......because of me?"
😳 Unprompted. Always accepting! | @chasersglow
The moment they share feels like a secret, a thrill not unlike that when she used to run up to him on the beach and show him something clasped in her hands, a little shrimp she'd caught in the tidal pools left behind by the waves. Not unlike the way they'd both explore the cliffs far past dinner time, or sneak out of bed to catch the sunrise while their parents slumbered, all the more blissfully unaware. She's warm beneath him, and the pressure of their bodies pressed together is, for once... comforting.
He hums idly as she speaks, drinking in the flush on her face and taking his time to duck down and indulge in the blossoming bites on her neck, sometimes worrying away at them further, sometimes soothing them with gentle kisses. The next time he pulls away, he sees the lipstick smudged on his lips left behind on her neck.
How funny.
She has asked him a question, but it's clear that she's not done speaking. He contents himself with continuing to indulge in her, cheekily interrupting her with languid kisses but no less listening intently. She knows he is listening. I know it has nothing to do with anything like our closeness now, we were both too young for something like this.
"Is that what you think?" he rumbles, trailing kisses down her chin, throat, chest, ending right over the beauty mark just above the rise of her breast. If he nips her there, well. Nobody will know. The marks left by his teeth will not last, he's careful to assure that, for her sake. It's a tease, perhaps a prologue of what's to come, perhaps a translation of the omission left behind by his rhetorical question in response to hers. He doesn't explain himself further; there's no need to. He's loved her for a long, long time, longer than Veritas Ratio has existed, long enough for him to fully and freely shed the self the rest of the world knows in her presence. It is a comfortable existence with her, and the prickling unpleasantness against his skin is easily manageable -- quiet. His mind is quiet.
How funny that is, too, for the woman who sparked all the hunger for knowledge in his mind to also be the one to quiet it. Perhaps it's because he has no need to search for her anymore? But he had no need to search for her the first time mention of the Express' revival reached his ears, and his mind was no less noisy for it then. Maybe, then, it's because he's finally caught her, has her in his arms once more. Sensibility is something he prides himself on, but the impression of home is not something even he can ignore. This moment won't last, but for as long as the two of them are intertwined, Himeko is home. And for the two of them, for now, home is a peaceful, quiet thing.
The kisses over her sternum -- never further, never lower -- are chaste, notes left behind in thought as he ponders her question. "It would be too easy for you to die like that," he answers finally, peeking up at her with wine-gold eyes. One more kiss over her beauty mark (for good measure, he thinks) before he's slinking up to meet her lips once again. "I believed in you because you gave me something to believe in. Reason to ponder, ideas to question, an irrefutable truth to discover. Your death was no such irrefutable truth, thus I believed in your survival." You would not so easily let fate sway you, just as I would not let it sway myself. If his smile is smug, it is out of playfulness. "And would you look at us now? I was right."
Gazing down at her, laying nose to nose and chest to chest, he comes to a sudden realization. She's beautiful. And yes, that much is obvious. With her deep red hair and dazzling eyes and figure, Himeko is an objectively attractive woman to just about anyone. But it's an impression that doesn't strike Andreas until he catches his own reflection in her eyes, sharing the depths of her irises with the stars that live in her gaze even when the sky above is obscured.
...How he missed that sight.
How he missed this, though they've never shared this kind of intimacy before, but the timelessness of her company remains as if they'd never grown apart. She's beautiful in the way she smiles, the rise and fall of every breath, the disheveled state of her makeup and clothes and hair, in the way she sees him, her eyes and attention on him alone. She's beautiful in a way that is real and wholly, inexplicably his.
His name spoken in her voice elicits a little shiver that races down his spine, sets his heart skipping. Her hands find his face and that familiar prickle is once again washed away by the warmth of her palms, something to sink into, something safe. What's with that look, Himeko? his eyes ask. You regard me with such incredulity. Do you struggle still to fathom the weight of my faith in you? And then she asks that question, and he understands, and he smiles, as if they're engaging in another secret, a little inside joke known only to the two of them. Really, what else could he be? Though not a Nameless, did he not pursue new paths too? Light new ways not just for himself, but for all the worlds he helped? Did he not undertake a journey to find himself, and her?
"Would you like me to be?" he whispers against her lips, hands cradling her ribs. One kiss, two kisses, three against the corners of her mouth. "The universe may know Veritas Ratio, scholar of the Intelligentsia Guild, but you, αστεράκια μου, will know Andreas, first of the trailblazers under your light."
#suggestive cw#just in some parts cuz they makin out#ratio: my mind is quiet also ratio: doesn't stop monologuing about how much he loves her in his head#who allowed him to be romantic what is this (it's me)#anyway WEEPS INTO MY HANDS INCONSOLABLY#THEM!!!!!!!!!#koi and i pioneers of the himetio ship#definitely don't read too hard into the foreshadowing about home teehee#also good fucking god i'm so sorry for how long this is koi i hope ur asleep#//an answer sought; (ASK)#chasersglow#//everlasting; (IC)#//cogito ergo sum; (RATIO)#save tag#//blaze the trail before us / i'll pull the lost up behind you; (RATIO | HIMEKO [chasersglow])
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Oct 24th [Gahyeon + Sensory Deprivation]
[10:54] You felt like every sense was a live wire. You shifted your hips, straining for any bit of information you could pick up. Your hearing was muffled from the earplugs, making it hard to know where Gahyeon was, and the blindfold across your eyes along with the darkness of the room meant you couldn’t see a thing. Your hands were tied behind your back as you sat on your knees, running your tongue over the gag and whimpering.
The bed dipped and you drew in a sharp breath. You heard a muffled chuckle and turned your head, as if you’d be able to see her. You couldn’t of course and you tensed in anticipation of her touch. She shifted even closer and you gasped when you felt her lips on your neck, leaving kisses and lipstick stains on your skin.
“Don’t be nervous, cutie,” she chuckled.
“I’m not.” The words were muffled but she could understand you anyway.
“You’re all tense,” she cooed, fingers falling onto your shoulders and rubbing them gently. You let out a shuddering breath, the not knowing what she would do next driving you nuts and making you even more aroused. You squirmed under her touch, whimpering.
She massaged your shoulders and you relaxed them. You could feel her gaze on you and you just knew she was grinning, always planning something and loving when you let her play with you like this. You couldn’t calm the nerves of anticipation but you grew more relaxed from her touch, feeling her press a kiss to the back of your neck.
Her hands pulled away from your body and after a few more stray kisses so did her lips. You strained your ears to try and hear what she was doing but all you could tell is that the bed was shifting while she moved around. You knew she probably prepared things well enough that you wouldn’t get any clues to her idea before she executed it.
You could tell she was moving in front of you and you shifted your knees apart a little more, wiggling and turning your head wherever you thought she was at that moment. Even so you still let out a gasp at the cool silicon that was suddenly pressed against your inner thigh. You could only guess that it might be a vibrator, or a dildo? You couldn’t tell the size, you didn’t know which toy she had and your mouth started to water as you ran through possibilities.
“Messy cutie,” Gahyeon tutted, wiping your lip dry as you whined, still dragging the toy along your skin. “Already drooling and I didn’t turn the toy on?”
“Please,” you managed around the gag.
Gahyeon hummed, dragging the toy closer to your core before stopping. You whimpered, wiggling your hips and catching the muffled sound of her laugh as she brought a hand to your thigh, shifting them apart even more.
Finally she brought the toy where you wanted it, rubbing it between your folds and collecting your arousal. The sensation as it rubbed over your clit made you moan, sending sparks through you and had you keening forwards, wanting more. You tried to roll your hips against it, getting a better feel for the toy and much more sure of which one it was.
You suddenly felt her hand on your jaw, turning your face to her even if you couldn’t see her and the action had arousal rushing through you.
“Be good, cutie.” She hummed.
You nodded quickly in response.
“Tell me when you’re going to cum, okay?”
“Yes,” You mumbled quickly. “Please.”
Gahyeon chuckled again and you jolted as the toy buzzed to life. A moan cascaded past your lips as she nestled the toy against your clit before changing the settings. You whimpered, sparks of pleasure and jolts of sensation running through you until she settled on a setting of lower power. You settled onto it for a few seconds, grinding your hips down until it suddenly turned up, making your thighs tense and more muffled sounds fall from your lips.
“Pretty cutie,” she cooed, pressing kisses to you neck.
#timestamp#kinktober 2022#i am still a day behind#sjadhahskd i feel like i wont catch up cuz im busy all weekend#dreamcatcher imagines#dreamcatcher smut#gahyeon imagines#gahyeon smut#lee gahyeon smut
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Star Crossed Chapter 3: Connection
Series: Star Crossed
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairings: Drake x MC
Rating: NSFW 🍋🍋🍋
Warnings: Lemons
Song Inspiration: Two Less Lonely People by Air Supply
Word Count: 2,458
My other stuff: Master List.
“Are you sure you’re not a serial killer?” She asked laughing as she tripped behind him through the underbrush, her hand clasped in his.
He stopped abruptly causing her to run smack into him.
“Sorry!” He said, turning to face her.
“Give me a warning you’re about to stop next time, will you?”
“Yup. Now, why am I serial killer?”
“You’re taking me to the literal middle of nowhere.”
“You said you wanted to go someplace with no people.”
“I did, didn’t I? But wouldn’t the beach we just walked across be better than the woods? That might be taking it a little far.”
“Still don’t trust me, huh?”
“I let you get me out in the middle of nowhere, didn’t I?”
He smirked down at her; their hands still entwined. “That you did. I can assure you that you’re perfectly safe with me, but for future reference, you probably shouldn’t let strange men get you alone. Most people have ulterior motives.”
“Like what?”
“Like what?” He rolled his eyes, “You’re an attractive woman, I’m sure you know exactly like what.”
“Mm.” She stepped closer and tipped her head back, “And your motives are pure?”
“I never said that.” His eyes ran down her body and back up.
She shivered and looked away, “So, where are we going?”
“The forgotten falls. Trust me, no one else will be there and it’ll be worth the trek through the woods. But there should be a trail around here somewhere….right….there!” He pulled her several feet to the side onto an overgrown path.
“Looks like this hasn’t been used in a while.”
“Proving my point that you’ll get the privacy you want. You’ll have your beach, but we’ll have it all to ourselves.”
“That does sound-“ She stopped short as the exited the woods onto a moonlight bathed clearing. Sparking white sand glowed at the edge of small pool of brackish water, gentle waves rippling along the surface between the shore and a steep cliff rising on the other bank. The sound of water cascading down the cliff face drifted across the clearing, the waterfall clearly visible in the bright moonlight.
“Wow.” She breathed out. “This is amazing!”
“Told you.” He said with a cocky grin.
“Oh, you’re one of those guys who likes to say I told you so, huh?”
“Only when, oh, I don’t know….I told you so!” He smirked at her.
“Braggart.” She kicked her shoes off and started off at a run toward the water, “Now come on! I want to dip my feet in there!”
He sprinted after her, water spraying into the air as they ran into the surf. He caught her, arms going around her waist as they both went tumbling into the waves.
“Oh shit!” He yelled as he broke the surface, pulling her up with him, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-“
She was clearly visible in the moonlight as she came up out of the water with him, hair impossibly long as the wetness pulled it straight, the already slightly too small white button up waitress shirt transparent and clingy, the top button undone allowing creamy mounds of skin to spill out the top as the harden peak of her nipples showed through the fabric. But the most beautiful thing about her in that moment was her laugh. Her entire face was suffused with joy, full, kissable lips parted and curved up as the purest laugh he’d ever heard issued from them. Her eyes were alive with ebullience and her cheeks were flushed with delight.
He struggled to pull a breath into his chest as his heart started to thump against his ribcage like it wanted out. He forgot what he’d been saying as he stood there staring at her, adrenaline spiking through him.
“What?” She gasped out, still laughing.
He reached out and ran his hand gently down the side of her face, his voice chocked as he said her name, “Ren…”
The laughter cut off as she tipped her head to look at him. All the mistrust was gone, all the anger and annoyance and pain she’d started the night with, gone. What he saw shining in her eyes now was uncontaminated happiness. A thing he could barely remember ever having possessed. It made her glow. Before he could think better of it, before he could second guess himself, he surged forward, wrapping his arms around her and capturing her lips with his own.
She stiffened for a moment, and he thought she was going to pull back, push him away, that he had misread her signals, then, in a flash, she leaned in, and her entire body relaxed as she returned the kiss. Her hand slid through his hair, causing goosebumps to erupt all over his body as he shuddered under her touch, groaning into her mouth. He gripped her tighter, pressing her against him as he deepened the kiss.
She ran her nails lightly down the side of his neck making him shiver again. Everywhere this girl touched him set his body on fire and he was consumed with a sudden and overwhelming desire to claim every inch of her. He wanted all of her. He wanted to touch her, taste her, kiss her everywhere.
He released her lips and gazed down into her face as he ran his thumbs gently down both sides of her face before pulling her head down so he could bury his nose in her hair and inhale deeply. Her smell sent red hot spikes of desire raining down on him. He bent to gently bite an earlobe, then set to work with his tongue licking, sucking, nipping his way along her neck and shoulders. He even kissed the tip of her nose and nipped at the bottom of her chin.
She let her head fall back and her hands tangle in his hair as the sensation of his mouth on her body devastated every shred of common sense she had.
The logical, rational, reasonable part of her brain understood every cold, calculated reason that this was a bad idea. But she was so tired, weary, in fact, exhausted of being rational, of being, and feeling, cold and indifferent. Her entire life was filled with pragmatic responses, practical considerations, essential obligations, responsible decisions. She was the oldest of her parent’s children, a high ranking noble from an esteemed house, with all the commitments and accountability that implied. She was expected and required to be sensible, reliable, conscientious, levelheaded, rational, reasonable, sane.
She felt anything but sane in his arms. One touch from him stole all her reason. One brush of his lips burned away all her rationality. The first soft moan that escaped his lips destroyed every ounce of logic. She was on fire. He was fire. The heat coiling inside her threated to combust, her body was burning. She’d been asleep her whole life and suddenly she was awake. Wide awake. She was going to burst into flame in his arms and she didn’t care. She’d die happy. Her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest, her breath threatened to leave her body as his kisses trailed down her neck to her chest, his hands fumbling with the buttons of her shirt.
Her head snapped forward when he stopped. Why was he stopping? She found him staring at her an intensity that made her go weak in the knees. “What is it?”
His voice was hoarse and low as he asked, “Is this ok? I just want to make sure-“
“Yes.” She breathed, “I want it. I want you-“
He cut her off with another kiss, long and deep, his tongue tangling with hers as his hands resumed their work with her buttons. He ripped the offending article of clothing from her body with a growl.
Her body began to tremble. He pulled back to look at her, “You’re cold?”
She shook her head, “No.”
“You’re trembling.”
“Because of you.” She whispered, suddenly shy.
Something almost predatory flashed behind his eyes at her admission. He pulled her back toward a nearby outcropping and pushed her gently against it.
“These need to come off.” He told her as he pulled at her black uniform pants. She helped him, shedding clothes until she was naked under the warmth of the water.
He pulled his own shirt over his head and tossed it onto the top of the outcropping of rock that jutted out of the dark water.
Her eyes were drawn to the silver dog tags that had been tucked inside his shirt and now lay against his bare chest. She reached out and grasped them, rubbing them between her fingers, “You’re a solider?”
“Yeah.” He gently pulled them out of her hand and over his neck, tossing them onto his shirt.
Her eyes followed them then moved back to him, “You don’t like to talk about it?”
“We can talk later, Ren.” He said with a smirk.
He stepped away from her, there was some movement under the water then the rest of his clothes joined hers in the pile of discarded clothing on top of the outcropping. He moved back to her, trapping her between himself and the rock. His hands resumed their exploration of her body. A finger slid between her legs and her head thumped back against the cool stone as an involuntary moan slipped out of her.
“Fuck!” He whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.
The sounds she made when he touched her had him already close to the edge. The way her body was trembling, the glazed look in her eyes….It was like she’d never been touched by a man before. “You’re not….I mean….you’ve done this before, right?”
A smattering of coherency returned to her as she focused on his question, “What? Yes, of course.”
“Ok. Just making sure. You’re so…I don’t know…it’s like….this is new or something.”
She grabbed his hair and pulled him back to her, “I’m no pure virgin, but no man has ever made me feel like this before.”
Shock coursed through him. He was no one special. He knew his way around a woman’s body, and he’d had no complaints in that department, but no one had ever responded to him quite like she did. With such intensity, with such wild abandon, with such utter submission. He knew he could ask anything of her right then and she’d do it. It was an intoxicating feeling.
What scared him though was that he was responding to her the same way. He’d never felt such a strong attraction. This was more than sexual desire. He wanted to drown in her, he wanted to wrap himself around her and bury himself inside her. He wanted to take everything from her, and he wanted to give everything to her.
His mind was clouded with lust and other, stronger feelings that he’d never experienced before. He wanted her on her knees in front of him, and he wanted to be on his knees in front of her. He wanted to take her from behind, from the front, standing up, laying down, under him, on top of him, he knew with abrupt clarity that one time was not going to be enough.
He forced himself to go slowly even though all he wanted to do was yank her out of the water and fuck her with an animalistic frenzy. He fought to control that impulse as his tongue licked round, fat water droplets from her skin. When there wasn’t a bare inch of skin above the water that he hadn’t had in his mouth, he grasped her at the waist and lifted her onto a ledge of rock part way up the outcropping so he could continue his mission of tasting every part of her.
His tongue started at her ankle and moved upward. She whimpered softly as she leaned back against the rockface, hands reaching for his hair again. Even though his hands and mouth were all over her, she still felt the need to touch him, to pull him closer, to hold onto to him, as if he might disappear if she didn’t keep her hands on him at all times.
Her body twisted as his mouth made contact with her center, her whimpers growing considerably louder. It didn’t take long. She’d never been so turned on in her life. His tongue swept through her folds before settling on her clit. Every lick, every flick, every breath that touched her sent new shockwaves of ecstasy spiraling through her until she was writhing and screaming as she thrust herself against his mouth.
She was still throbbing from the first orgasm as he pulled her back into the water and entered her, pinning her body against the rock as he thrust into her. She wrapped both legs around him as her fingers dug into his back. She held on as if her life depended on it, as she bit and kissed down the side of his neck. “Fuck! Yes! Harder!” She groaned.
He obliged immediately, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, deeper as he buried himself in her over and over again. Every collision of his body into hers sent spikes of pleasure shooting through her. The delicious friction achieved with every connection served to push the building pleasure higher and higher, just like the swell of the waves pushing their bodies against the rock with each ebb and flow, until she was cresting over the edge again. Darkness swam at the edges of her vision as the climax ripped through her, she swore her soul left her body for a moment. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as every negative emotion she’d ever had seemed to spill out of her leaving nothing in its wake but euphoria and a desperate need to cling to the man wrapped around her.
Her body shuddered around his, her fingers dug into him, and her cries filled his ears. He thrust into her one more time, pulsing inside her as his own release crashed into him. His body spasmed as series of incoherent sounds issued from the back of his throat. He had never felt emotional after sex before, but that release had been more than physical. Something essential unlocked inside him. He felt it click open. His sense of being adrift in the world, every insecurity he’d ever had, all the emptiness he carried in the deepest recesses of his being, all of it, suddenly evaporated, vanished like a puff of smoke in the wind, as a deep sense of belonging washed over him. He stared down into her eyes, unwilling to let her go, and he felt like he was finally right where he belonged, finally home.
#star crossed#angelasscribbles#choices fic writers creations#cfwc fics of the week#trr#choices#drake walker#the royal romance fanfic#the royal romance#choices stories you play#drake x mc
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"we should go away for the week. some place nice. my treat. just you and me, nothing else, no one else." her hands are gentle while she cradles him in her lap and runs her clawed fingers through his hair, back and forth in slow, repetitive motions. ahri looks down at kayn's face, and her hair comes cascading down in a curtain over her shoulders. she catches her tresses before they fall far enough to go and tickle his face, places them back behind her, and moves her hand to cup his cheek instead. her thumb is careful as it rubs into his cheek, so softly as though he'd crumble to dust in her hands.
"anywhere you want, anything you want," she continues, voice light and sweet, though a quiet murmur to keep from shattering this veil of comfort drifting upon them like falling snow. "—it's yours. make your wish, and i'll make it come true!" ahri knows him well enough to know he wouldn't want to make a thing out of it. he could ask anything of her, and she would do it, she thinks. perhaps she's got him wrapped around her finger, but she's just as bound to him and his every whim and will, too. even if all he wanted was to come crash in her bed, away from both their bands, and spend a week ordering in the city's finest indulgences over movie marathons, or literally anything at all, she'd do it, so long as he's happy. "you knooooow, i just saw this island for sale on that one realtor website . . . do you want it?"
Some years, he forgets about his birthday until it's already passed. When he celebrates in October, what reason does he have to even think about it again? Sometimes he gets as far as the new year before he realizes he missed it. Other years, though, he starts getting birthday blues weeks in advance, and the days crawl by like a funeral march. BIRTHDAY BLACKS, MORE LIKE. Rhaast gets louder in his head, and even if they are good potential lyrics, Kayn finds it hard to focus. He's distracted, irritable, and gloomy.
It's a stupid thing to be hung up on, he knows. He feels like a kid throwing a tantrum every year when his birthday comes around, but it's one of the few things tied to his old life — his oldest life, because Kayn's gone through many transformations — that he can't get rid of, no matter how he tries. Her fingers feel heavenly in his hair, but Kayn's lips are still pressed into a thin frown, and his lashes still shade his uncovered eye. He looks unhappy, undoubtedly so, but it's a steady unhappiness. It's not a cliff or a slope that he has to worry about slipping down — it's just a storm he has to weather.
Ahri doesn't say the word birthday, and Kayn's grateful for that. She's kinder than he deserves, especially when he feels like he's rotting inside. Even though he wants to go away with her, Kayn finds it's impossible to get the words out. "Where would we go?" He asks, voice thinner than it ever is, because he just wants to keep her talking, wants to stay away from his thoughts.
Then Ahri mentions the island and an undeniable spark of interest glints in Kayn's eye. The things he could do with a personal island — the parties he could throw. "For us?" He asks, finally lifting his gaze to her as he catches one of her hands and puts it on his cheek, holding it there before he turns his face into it, inhaling deeply like he's trying to convince his body to relax. WE COULD MAKE IT LOOK LIKE AN EVIL VILLAIN LAIR! CAN WE GET A HELIPAD? Rhaast is so loud these days, and Kayn's glad that he's saying something positive for a change. "If it's an island, are we getting a boat, too? Or are you thinking a helicopter?"
#heartate#v. / THIS IS GONNA BE SICKKKKK - k 💜#what was written in shadow — now in flesh / answered.
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micro story with 7. silent fury 📝👀
📝👀 bestie english teacher don’t look at my abhorrently reckless use of punctuation WKDKFHAKA
silent fury (x)
characters: verde (oc), unnamed maelstr/ommers (not significant enough to be ocs)
words: 596
warnings: violence, blood, gam-gam gets injured and gives it right back
A sharp, driving pain just under her ribs makes Verde gasp.
Her focus is pulled from the big maelstrom member currently trying to paint the pavement of the garage they're in with her brains and instead to the much smaller member behind her, the one that just drove a jagged shiv into her side.
All she can really do from this angle without completely compromising herself is to just blindly swing with a closed fist, fortunately connecting with his shoulder, a sick crunch ringing out as he cries out and backs away from her.
Unfortunately, that has its benefits and drawbacks. The benefit? She can return to pummeling the guy in front of her while the one that just stabbed her flees. The drawback? The jagged shiv has just ripped through more skin and muscle, and been pulled out as he recoils.
She can feel the wet warmth of blood cascading down her side, her breathing coming heavier as she tries to turn the pain back into focus so she can get the girl she was sent to rescue and then out of there alive. The fact that she allowed herself to be snuck up on at all...Stupid mistakes for someone who is not a rookie by any stretch of the imagination.
As Verde whips her head back to the assailant in front of her, out of her peripheral a wrench swings towards her. Reflexively, she manages to dodge it just in time. He put too much energy and force into the swing, giving her just enough of an opening to clock him in the temple as he twists his body back towards her.
He drops with a heavy thud, the wrench clattering to the floor with him, his red and black cyberware pulsing and sparking. Clutching at her side, she looks up, finding the 'strommer that stabbed her standing in the doorway of the room she has to go into, clutching his shoulder.
Her attention on him in earnest now, he starts to back away from her, his hands held out as Verde stalks toward him, the picture of silent fury. She watches him frantically glance between her and their environment for a weapon, but she won't allow him that.
"H-hey, take it easy, just let me go. I shouldn't have stabbed you but nobody has to die. Just take the girl and go." He pleads, voice rough and metallic from the vocoder in his cyberware.
He trips over himself and falls as she gets closer, boots landing heavily on the concrete with each step, and tries to push away from her, whimpering pathetically until his back hits the doorframe and he can't get any more space from her. Nor reach for a weapon, as there aren't any in his reach except for a soggy cardboard box.
Normally she would consider just leaving him cowering, not killing if she can help it has always been a core tenet of how she does business, but she's in a lot of fucking pain and so mad that he would stab her and then not have the back bone to try to follow through that she's considering it for once.
"Man, c-c'mon, I'm letting you just take the girl. I won't say shit, I'm not even supposed to be here." He pleads, tensing and screaming when her fist connects with the metal wall right beside his head.
"Don't fucking move until we're gone, or I won't show mercy again." Verde snarls, her better nature winning out as she wrenches the door open, the lock snapping loudly.
#RLY hope this is an interesting little diddy because combat is soooo Special to write.#my writing#oc: verde#ocstuff#bloodied verde clutching her side and angry.....terrifying! and hot! Glad thats not me!#thank you for sending a lil prompt in olek sorry it took me like 3 weeks 💖#i’m using the prompt emily send me as a part two to this and i’m hoping it will be nice >:)
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Wizard of the Wood | 28 | Fighting Fate pt. 2
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27
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Rylir gasped for air, huddling by Essie’s neck to shield himself. Noxious gas surrounded Essie’s face and filled her nose and mouth and, with him being there by her neck, it had invaded his body too. Instantly, bitter bile filled his throat and made him collapse and wretch. The taste of iron saturated his throat, making him gasp for air.
Flames threatened to consume both Essie and him as frigid wind threatened to give them frostbite. Rylir squinted through the terrible, noxious gas at the menacing faces of the five giants now towering over them.
This wasn’t happening.
This couldn’t be happening.
How could all five of them be so unfeeling toward another of their kind?
What was more alarming was that Essie was staring blankly at the sky far above. Her eyes were dulling. Blood began dripping out of her nose as she too was gasping for air.
He did this.
If Rylir hadn’t coaxed her, encouraged her to come down and fight for the defense of the town, then she would not be in pain now. She would not be suffering like this right now.
No.
He had to do something.
Anything.
“Essie,” coughed Rylir as he huddled closer to Essie’s neck just below her ear. His heart was racing, pounding out of her chest with the ferocity of an avalanche. His vision began clouding. Was he losing consciousness?
No…
Not now…
With the last of his strength, Rylir forced out the words as loud as he could manage.
“Fight! You have to fight! I… can’t… lose you…”
Essie felt a single tear trace the side of her cheek.
Rylir.
His words rang over and over in her mind.
I can’t lose you.
Suddenly, everything seemed to be brought into perspective.
By giving into the pain, by giving into the fear, she was losing Rylir. She was sacrificing him, her only friend, because she was afraid, stunned by memories of the past.
A realization hit her, and in an instant empowered her.
While those memories hurt and while they did happen, they were in the past.
They couldn’t hurt her. Those terrible, wicked memories could only hurt her if she allowed them to hurt her.
Time completely slowed around her. She closed her eyes and saw the cracking dam holding back the black waters of regrets and memories threatening to cascade over the edge and swallow her whole. She watched the veil teetering on the edge, ready to fall before her eyes, threatening to reveal the monstrosities looming behind it.
Essie slowed her breathing.
Essie let her body relax and she repeated the phrase in her mind over and over again.
They can’t hurt me.
They can’t hurt me.
This is who I was, and this is who I choose to be.
You will not take my friend from me.
You have no power over me.
Then, she felt it.
A spark. There was a crackling, energetic spark that had begun to grow in her forearms. It was then that she realized what triggered that power before, that crimson lightening she summoned before – protection. It was only when she thought about protecting Rylir that the energy first began before.
And, now, she would do it again.
Essie concentrated on that powerful, protective feeling swelling in her chest. Seizing that emotional charge, she felt the same crackling energy she felt before. Every nerve, every fiber, every part of her being vibrated with the electrical energy surging through her veins.
However, instead of being afraid of this new found power, she embraced it.
Essie’s eyes opened, flaring with crimson lightening licking at the edges of her eyes, as she concentrated on that protective instinct. She looked up into the faces of her five tormentors and watched the color drain from their faces. She looked up and saw fear, and they had good reason to be.
Rylir watched as Essie’s eyes flared with light, her pupils now entirely consumed by crimson light. It was all he could do to keep holding onto Essie as he watched everything unfold before him.
Essie opened her mouth and let out a howling scream, daring to strike fear into the hearts of her adversaries. As she screamed, crimson lightening ripped through her body and exploded out of her chest, engulfing her form. The bodies of the five instantly seized, snatched by the crimson lightening erupting out of Essie’s body.
In a moment, Essie’s scream wasn’t the only one that filled the air. The five, now collapsed on their knees and clutching their chests, were also screaming. As Essie’s voice calmed into ragged breathing, the five followed suit.
In one, agonizing blast, Essie had incapacitated all of them – and they knew it.
The five crouched before her in awe as Essie rotated her wrists and raised up into the air, suspended and held aloft by the beams of crimson lightening themselves.
The onslaught only continued as Essie proceeded to lay into them. Beams of arching electrical energy seized their bodies as she bound them together. Using the momentum of being in the air, Essie allowed herself to plummet down and crash into her enemies.
She darted around fist after fist, moving at an incredible speed, as she cracked one across the jaw and delivered a hard kick to another. This speed – this power – was something Essie had never experienced in her working memory. Every punch felt empowered, every move felt precise, as if she could not possibly miss.
Before they knew it, all five of them were on the ground, doubled over from the deliberate punch to the gut they received. The energy from the lightening wracked their bodies, making them twitch uneasily.
Still, Essie didn’t relent.
While the other four received their fair share of punishment, it was her original tormentor who she saved her true power for.
Daemia, who attempted to block Essie’s attacks with a simple shield, had no accounted for the conductivity of the frozen ground she was standing on. The water from the ice had melted, and Daemia was standing in a water basin puddle that had no escape. Essie held no remorse as she electrified the water and watched Daemia fall to her knees, seized with the current.
While Daemia thrashed in the water, Rylir could only watch in worry.
This wasn’t Essie. This was not like her.
This was revenge, and he knew this was not Essie’s way.
“Essie!” he shouted. “Essie! Stop! Don’t forget who you are. Don’t let them make you into a monster!”
Essie’s body shuddered. Something in her stirred.
Rylir was right.
As much as she wanted to keep going, give into the voice that dared her to continue, Essie knew her friend wouldn’t have intervened unless he were worried.
Taking a breath, Essie let her breath calm and allowed the dark veins of lightening subside. Boldly, she strode over to the five of them who were collapsed on the ground and snarled.
“Come near me and those whom I have chosen to protect, and I will not relent. Do you understand me?”
Without another word, Essie rotated her wrist and began muttering the same incantation for each person ��� the incantation of teleportation.
One by one, Essie sent each of them away to the first remote location that crossed her mind. She wouldn’t tell Rylir that she banished Daemia to the middle of the ocean. That could wait until another day. While it would only be a matter of time before each of them returned, one thing was made completely clear – Essie had faced her past and emerged victorious.
~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~
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One Shot | Wizard of the Wood
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I have something!
It’s part of a prequel based on a dream I had a few nights ago. It leans more into high fantasy which makes the worldbuilding a bit easier for me. Btw, I wrote this in like an hour, so don’t expect too much.
Dominik, The Snow Prince
Chapter 4: The White Weaver
The snow came down thicker and thicker, sharp ice stinging his face. Desperately, he called into the night:
Fayahod, Fayahod, the last lights fade / time runs low and I have lost my way
Loyal Fayahod, come save this youth / come yet again and lead me to hearth*
Shining through the gusts comes a cascade of sparks. Dominik gasps as they brighten, solidifying into the shape of a large, white hound. He barks twice, then runs off. Dominik stumbles through the snow, Fayahod coming to nuzzle him up every time he falls.
After what seems like hours, Dominik sees a small pinprick of warm light in the distance. Dominik nearly falls from relief. One last time Fayahod nudges him on, laying down himself, panting.. Dominik crouches down next to him.
“Good boy, Fayahod, good boy..” He swallows thickly. “Go on now, boy, you’ve done well. Thank you, Fayahod. Go home, boy.” Dominik strokes his fur as Fayahod dissolves back into sparks, tracing ribbons into the heavens.
Getting onto his feet, Dominik rushes towards the light, crashing into a wooden door.
It springs open, an old woman standing behind it. “Goodness me, knock first, child!” Dominik blinks dully.
“Well, get in now, before we both get buried in snow.”At that, Dominik starts, stumbling towards the fire. The lady makes her way over, accompanied by a pot of stew. “Eat up, we don’t want you to get sick. What’s your name?”
“ Dominik,” he whispered. “What’s yours?”
“You call me Dam Hulda*.” She sighs. “Well, the storm’ll likely continue for a while. You’ll have to stay here for now, lest you fall to the gales. You’ll have to help out here in turn, of course. I can’t do all the work. Cooking, dishes, the works. Sounds fair to you?” Dominik nods eagerly.
…
Days pass, the winds blustering the same as the first.
“When will the storm pass, Dame Hulda? I thought they’d have gone by now.”
Dame Hulda scoffs. “You youths and all your questions. So impatient! What makes you think an old matron like me knows the answer. Now stop beating the sheets so hard, don’t take out your anger on my poor bedding.
Still each night she’d lead him to the fire, giving him a piece of kutia and telling him stories as she spinned thread. Dame Hulda entertained all his questions, laughing at some with a sparkle in her eyes that told of lifetimes’ worth of knowledge he could only dream of.
*Fayahod is a dog that died bringing a shepherd’s son home during a storm. For this he was put in the stars. He now serves as a protector of children and guide to the lost. Fayahod also translates to “stinky dog”.
*Dame Hulda is very heavily based on Frau Holle, a figure from Germanic folklore with her own Grimm fairy tale. She is also inspired by Irene’s grandmother in The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald. I’ll try to make her more original later.
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It was so beautiful to fall in love with you. I miss you all the time. How many years will it take to stop feeling a spark when I look at our pictures? It has been painful and arduous to walk away. I ache for you. And yet I know if you were here, we would feel miles apart.
I’ve never been good at change. I will stubbornly reassess and try again a thousand times over before I accept things are different, that they have changed against my will.
In my youth I made the mistake of having a talon-like grip on everything I loved, convinced I could prevent loss if I simply did not let go. With age, I have seen too much slip through my fingers, as if those precious things I clung to had suddenly turned to dust and cascaded through my hands into the depths below.
With age, I learned to hold on loosely, prepared to let things come and go, knowing some love is only meant for a season of our lives. I have somehow accepted the inevitability of loss while drowning in its wake.
To you, I held on loosely. I was skittish, ready to let go and run at any sensed shift. I lived on high alert, too afraid to let myself believe anything could stay. And yet there you were, lulling me over my walls into your bed where I could live in your warmth and sunshine.
I don’t have it in me to regret letting my guard down. It was the most peace, the most loved, the most safe I have ever felt. And, I fear, may ever feel.
I didn’t know what to do when you put up your walls and disappeared behind them. You, my stable little home that stood and made the world feel still in the midst of its noise and belligerence, I did not know what to do when my worst fear came true:
I would once again brave the world without you.
It feels unfair, which feels so petulant to say. But simply, how do I make sense out of being given my world and then watching it crumble underneath me? How do I contend with my apparent forever-lesson in life seems to be: I am doing this alone.
Why did you have to love me so well that in this moment, in this ache, I just want to come running to you? You don’t make me feel good anymore. In your addiction, you can be cruel and careless. In my heartache I become distant and mean. I could not disgrace our love like that, to continue to act that way with each other in the same hallowed grounds of our connected lips whispering “I love you”s and sweet nothings as we lay all tangled up in one another. You felt like happiness on my skin, both comforting and exhilarating.
No, those grounds are sacred, and I love you too much to stomp through the gardens and effigies we erected. I know that what is right is to leave them untouched; to leave well-trodden paths to become overgrown as these monuments to us are slowly, quietly, swallowed up by the good earth that holds them. Swallowed up and birthed a new as the soil repurposes our pieces and life goes on.
I know all this, and yet I sit here, aching for you. It’s certainly gotten easier, but the end is still not in sight.
I hope you are safe. For all our distance, in the rain you will always have me as your umbrella if you choose to reach for it. I only worry that your pride will stop you from asking from the help you know is there.
You do not have to fear death while I’m alive; I’ll shelter you forever.
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we're flying above the valley below | Interlude 2
AO3
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It came down to this: Vexen was, kind of, a complete and total diva.
Look, tracking people was all well and good, but sometimes it was easier to stop and think for a moment and predict. And, here’s the thing: replicas didn’t just happen out of nowhere, it took work, and if Vexen was missing then there was no way he wasn’t the one working on his pet project. He’d throw an absolute tantrum if anyone else tried to take over his work.
Axel had heard Vexen bitch and moan about his working conditions and sub-par environments enough times over the last decade to know that he was picky, and he wouldn’t accept just anywhere as a place to set up. Wherever the Organization-at-large had set up, Vexen would only be at one of a very short list of locations, and where Vexen was, the replicas were sure to be, too.
So, Axel snuck into the Castle that Never Was.
Axel had hoped to not get caught; he’d really hoped to not run into Saïx.
He did not get his wish.
“Did you really think you could go unnoticed here, in the heart of our operations?” Saïx asked, pale yellow eyes frigid as he stared him down, a small, hooded figure at his heels.
“I mean, I got this far, didn’t I?” Axel asked, tilting his head as he tried to get a glimpse of the face beneath the hood, “Honestly, your operation’s looking a bit thin on the ground. Where is everyone?”
“None of your concern.”
“I mean, I always like to know who I’m fighting. Like, say, who’s your friend?”
Saïx paused, nose wrinkling in a way that had Axel hiding a flinch, because that was the look he got when he was calculating the way he could accomplish three separate goals while causing as much misfortune for you as possible.
“Would you like a demonstration?” he asked, finally.
“Uh.”
No, not particularly, Axel thought, but he didn’t get the chance to protest.
“No. i. Attack.”
The small figure moved – it came in fast but, Axel quickly realized, very sloppily. There were no weapons – there wasn’t even magic. There were just ineffectual punches and kicks. Axel almost felt bad retaliating – but not enough to kicking them away.
They went flying back, tumbling roughly across the floor, knocking their hood loose. Strangely silent despite their fall, they looked up, dull blue eyes staring blankly out from beneath a tangle of matted black hair, and Axel – froze.
He knew that face.
He found himself reaching out, instinctively, even as he knew there was nothing there, even as he quickly fumbled through emptiness, only to stretch far away and bump against that clouded, fuzzy space his Flightmate took up in Sora’s heart, all scattered starlight sheltered under his lingering flames. This, in front of him, was an empty shell, there was nothing there, but –
He knew that face.
Heart in his throat, he rushed forward, moving on the offensive, some kind of emotional muscle-memory urging him onwards, have to get her-keep her safe-keep her close-grab her steal her take her home-hide her away.
He’d almost grabbed her before the cost of his tunnel-vision caught up to him in the form of a flat-bladed blow to the face.
He danced backwards blindly, memory of a hundred spars keeping him away from Saïx’s follow up blow and a shower of sparks buying him space to re-orient. When the fire died down, his once-friend stared at him flatly from behind his claymore.
“No. i, stand down,” Saïx said, before fully addressing Axel, “I don’t believe that belongs to you.”
“You sure about that?”
Saïx blinked once, slowly, tilting his head, sleek blue strands cascading over his shoulders like rain, and stars, looking at him hurt.
“Well, if you’re so sure, why don’t you tell me its name?”
Axel nearly stuttered, completely thrown, “What?”
“We’ve pieced together what we can about the puppet from the few notes left behind – project name: No. i. But there are hints that it might have had a name, once, though it has been stripped from our memories. If it truly belongs to you, you should know its name.”
Axel hissed, guilt and frustration tangling together, because he couldn’t, he couldn’t remember her name – and there was nothing in that shell, but it had to be connected, and how could he have forgotten his third so completely –
“Maybe I just don’t want to share. Besides, you can’t keep me from her.”
“Is that so? And how did our last few fights go, again?”
“Hah. Fair enough, but I’ve got a bit of an upgrade.”
He spun his chakrams, letting the power of his Key flood into it, the sharp point of the blade spilling out.
“A Keyblade? You? How unexpected… then, the ranks of the Lights are filling up. Good, our plan proceeds on track.”
“Oh, for the love of –” thoroughly fed up – how did Saïx always seem so composed, so smug, no matter the circumstances, it was infuriating – Axel threw himself forward.
The Keyblade really did make a difference. He still switched back to his chakrams, occasionally, which were better for distance or quick, dancing moves, but up close the Key let him meet Saïx’s blows on more equal ground, let him do more damage when needed. He thought he might actually win –
Of course, that’s when reinforcements came in.
He barely dodged the first blast, the sharp whine of the gun being his only warning. Xigbar dropped down beside Saïx when the ground was clear, reloading his gun with a few sharp movements.
Saïx watched him coldly from the corner of his eyes, “Xigbar. I didn’t know you were coming by.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss all this drama.”
“I see… and exactly how long have you been here?”
“Long enough to see Poppet get tossed around like a rag doll,” Xigbar laughed, “Not very good, is she? But what else can you expect from an empty puppet? You’ve gotta fill it with something, first. Course, we’ve all learned that has its own dangers, haven’t we?”
What? Axel wondered, but didn’t waste his breath on Xigbar’s riddles. He’d long since learned no answers would be forth-coming.
“Risks can be mitigated,” Saïx said, stepping up beside Xigbar, claymore out and ready.
“Oh? You’ve got plans?”
“Just leave it all to me.”
Shit. He couldn’t stay. One, or the other, he could manage – but both? At the same time? Not a chance. And maybe they wouldn’t do anything too rough – they needed a certain amount of people to fight, yeah? But Axel wasn’t willing to risk it.
He summoned a corridor around himself, feeling the dark magic slowly bloom around him, feeling some old forgotten wound being torn open.
“I’ll be back,” he said – to Saïx? To the empty replica? To that distant, shuddering star? Who could say?
Certainly not him.
Instead, he bailed, landing somewhere to rest for a bit and make a few calls.
“Hey, Kairi.”
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Chapter 2 — No Ordinary Life.
Chapter 2 — No Ordinary Life.
It took everything inside of me, not to scream at his funeral, sitting in my chair, that person talking was pitiful. My brother and I finally met each other at our dad’s funeral. Somehow he brought us together. My mom said to us. “You missed the first years of being friends, don't miss the rest of your life.”
Not a loving way to met your sibling, (If you asked me) But since that time we made a promise to stay in contact.
______
A few years later, I was doing my things. I was racing and sometimes doing extreme sports, proving that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
I arrive at the beach with Shalimar hopping off from the motorcycle. There’s a street race waiting for me. You can’t never go wrong with the gleaming cars, well-oiled muscles and bikini babes. I enjoy the adrenaline of street car racing.
Taking my t-shirt from her hand to cover my sculpted frame and jeans that hung low on my waist, a silver chain hanging from one side; from my wallet to a side belt loop. I leisurely strode towards the street where my car was waiting.
The crowd starts to shout, my opponent is inside his car. The raven haired beauty lead her lush physique down the street to stand in the middle of the two cars to be the head girl; she was all seductive, wearing short destroyed jeans with a sultry top, making her taut nipples visible.
I get in my matte black 1970 Dodge Charger. There's not a speck of dust on it. Revved the engine to life, tatted fingers tighten around the steering wheel. One hand on the clutch. I felt the roar all around me.
“Are you ready for this LA?” She lifted her arm with a red scarf in her hand. “Be fast! Be safe! But don't be last... Racers ready..? GO!”
I start the race with my signature wheelie. When you move in a fast pace as I'm moving, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, feels like a injection of nitro. Life is a race. If you don't run fast, you'll get trampled.
It doesn't matter what's under a hood... The only thing that matters is who's behind the wheel.
“Too soon, buster.” Bumping his car while it is in nitro, making him lose control, loosening his car with nitrous—sparking a vehicle explosion that destroys his car and two more. I got my tunnel vision on the road, my body becoming one with the car as we race down the streets of the beach, It’s the thrills, the buzz of the risk, that drives me on, swerving in and out of the wreck.
I throw the car into reverse, My gaze fixated on the rear-view mirror. Maintaining all the speed and complete the final stretch of the drag race, driving backwards and win.
____
Once the race has ended Shalimar and I come back to our place and laid upon the mattress, the soft duvet surrounding our naked bodies, her naked body engulfed in my arms.
Her fingers circles around my chest. My whole body is a perfect canvas, placed a kiss upon her forehead. A boyish grin has toyed my lips.
“Look at that smile, I love it when you smile, Chase.” Taking a handful on her taut rear and squeeze it. “That’s your fault, Sha.” Laughing.
I climbed out of the bed, hauling her up with me by her hand, I leisurely strode towards the en-suite, opening the glass doors of the shower, I stepped in and turn on the hot water, standing in the shower, the warm water cascading down my body.
She dropped on her knees and started to suck me off as if I was her last meal. I groans, pressed my hips forward, filling her throat with my length. Coiled her soaked hair around my fist. My hips instinctively pushing forward my rising aroused length is abruptly lavished into her mouth, watching the lust in her eyes.
I couldn't stand it any longer, two more thrusts and I cum filling her mouth with my warmth release. I opened my eyes and looked at her, I backed down a bit to make room for her to swallow all what I have to give. I growled, pulling her hair again.
Tears ran down her cheeks, I pulled out my cock from her mouth. She began to lick off the remaining of my sperm from her lush lips. The pad of my thumb stroked the apple of her cheek, I smiled mischievously. “That’s my girl.”
_____
Once we’ve finished our mind blowing sex in the shower we headed out to the club and celebrate the race of that afternoon, drinking and dancing, she loved to dance with me.
I move her raven hair over her shoulder and lean forward to kiss her collarbone as our bodies moves in perfect sync with the sexual dance, taking a handful of her rear in my hands, she shifts her position.
Groaning as she pushes her backside against my groin, squeezing my hands on her hips, my cock got hard as steel in a second, we start to bump and grinds in the middle of the dance floor; our bodies becomes like magnets, inseparable, having sex with our clothes on.
Moving slowly with the rhythm. She is the magnet and I'm the metal. Step by step, smooth and dirty. We didn’t care who was watching us. I like to appreciate a fine body, regardless of the make. Trailing my tongue over her ear lobe, gently nibbling.
My hands clung around the soft material of her dress until I've gathered her fine ass, dancing to the slow and seductive beat. I whispered a few words of the song we were dancing against her ear.
“Déjame sobrepasar tus zonas de peligro... Hasta provocar tus gritos... Y que olvides tu apellidó.”
___
We get outta of the club and head off to our place in my vehicle. I pulled up at the red light, waiting for it to change. “There’s something, I wanna tell you.”
My gaze shifted from the road to her. “What is it, Sha?” She linked our fingers together. “I’m pregnant, you are gonna be a father.” A broad smile had toyed upon my lips, eagerly kiss her lips and placed my hand against her belly. “I love y...” was the only word I managed to muster.
Before we got side swiped by an unexpected truck from the passenger side and the car flips over, crashing down against the asphalt of the road, the windows shatter to pieces, leaving us trapped in the mangled car.
“Goddamn!”
I kicked the door of my side to open it, ducking down, managing to get outta the vehicle, numb to the pain. The adrenaline was doing its job. Popping through my veins
I slowly stood up from the street towards the passenger seat of the vehicle, opening the door from her side, the car was flipped over, dragging her carefully out of the car.
“Baby, come on... Wake up!”
I lay her body against the road, started to give her mouth to mouth without having any luck. She was not longer breathing, she died with the impact. The driver of the truck was drunk and he died instantly. Holding her lifeless body against my own, tears running down face and I yell at her. Watching her and my unborn child fade-away from me in seconds.
“Babe wake up, I need you both!”
____
I hobble through the cemetery towards her grave, wearing an all black tux with a white bouquet of roses in hand, my eyes were covered with a pair of dark shades, I stood before the grave to say my last goodbye.
Funerals are awful occasions, commemorating a loved one who has gone. All I could remember was her last words telling me she was expecting a child this emotions was overwhelming. People are able to deal with loss in many different ways.
She was what revs my engine and gets me going when it comes to a love. I fell in love with my pain and I slept with my regrets. Happiness saw it happen, maybe that's why she up and left.
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