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ay0nha · 1 year

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Venus Rising | Thomas Shelby

SUMMARY: Three moments in which you run into Tommy, the final provoking a deal neither of you are prepared for.

“I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free…I want, I want to think, to be omniscient.” Sylvia Plath (1949)

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking (tobacco/weed), criticism of time-period misogyny/misogyny in general, canon-typical things, angst again, rich people being annoying, no proof reading, rushed ending, slow burn, etc.

A/N: Oop, another Tommy fic, apparently it’s not quite out of my system. Inspired by the film How to Steal a Million (title is inspired by the original title of the book!) and @huntingingoodwill‘s post (here), ESPECIALLY with the third part of this as it comes from Carmen’s beautiful brain. Inspo is taken from various feminist writing and particularly an Agnes Varda quote. MIGHT do a part two, idk yet.

Comments are VERY encouraged! Enjoy.

“Thanks for that…” Tommy was finally catching his breath but still searched for your name. He hadn’t seen you in the gathering below and questioned if the room he found himself in belonged to you.

“We’re better off strangers.” You weren’t defensive, nor was your guard up; you were just focused. Fixated. The painting was borderline mesmerizing, and you struggled to tell if it was from the art or how your joint dwindled steadily.

Your isolation was purposeful.

The reception provoked the start of a migraine; its noise bleeding through the thick walls of the stately home only grew more deafening as the evening furthered. To find relief, you wandered the empty halls, the stairs that led to darkness, and every door that seemed particularly off-limits.

It was a simple measure of self-preservation until your seclusion was fractured.

The door opened abruptly, a body sliding through the narrow space to hide in the most prominent shadow. You thought you were caught, but the man held a finger to his lips, expression prepared for the obvious chase.

You were the perfect accomplice.

Those who came looking for him were met with your theatrics, a role well-rehearsed; your eyes never glanced to where Tommy hid in the most prominent shadows; your upset alone secured you hadn’t seen the man with the razor-lined cap; you simply wanted to return to your silence.

“You stick out, you know…” You filtered smoke through your nose, half-lidded eyes remaining ahead. The thought was absentminded, your lips tingling with indifference.

“I have an invitation.” Tommy had it forged, making it nearly identical to the one you’d received in the post.

You hummed with amusement. “I mean—you don’t belong.”

Considering how you equated his presence with his class, Tommy considered taking offense. However, your humor exposed no ill intent. You were trying to relate to him. To offer some solace, you offered the joint to him between pinched fingers.

“Let me guess, neither do you.” Tommy accepted your olive branch with a drag.

“Oh, I never will.” Although your smile remained, your tone became distant. You didn’t glance at Tommy until he took another puff. His eyes were ahead, just as yours were, attempting to see what had enraptured you in the painting. “Just like her.”

The face of the young woman depicted was covered, but her body was exposed. You were sure the owner of the canvas only valued the misinterpreted eroticism. Yet, the scene’s voyeuristic purposes were to convey the end of a very long day. You were convinced if you reached out, you could soothe her aching muscles from her obviously laborious job.

The painting's size didn’t speak for its cost. You wanted to laugh at how something so precious was stored on a wall as a forgotten decoration. However, you would do the exact same if it were in your possession. It would hang on your ceiling that way; when you rested your head against your pillow, you could get one final look at it as if it were a mirror, a grounding reminder that there was company in such an empty space.

“You pity the poor.” The statement held a questioning tone. Tommy interpreted the painting and your thoughts literally; a woman relieved of farm work was being judged by you—someone worse than the bourgeois.

“Don’t you see it?” Bitter ecstasy carried your words. You wanted to be heard. “Her and I are the same…”

Tommy returned the joint, realizing its purpose was to aid and calm you from the turmoil you hoped to escape. He felt an odd sense to comfort you but wouldn’t.

Instead, he repaid his earlier debt with unaccustomed humor, “I doubt someone like you shovels shit for a living.”

“Doesn’t matter.” You let the smoke settle in your chest, its warmth comforting. “From inception, we’re indistinguishable, born with an innocence that is only nurtured to be stolen. Our very being is never our own. Once our bodies are pried from our minds, we starve because of it.”

“Ah, I see…” Tommy started, “You’re a modern woman.”

The joint was almost a roach, but you passed it back, ridding yourself of its responsibility. The man beside you was a stranger, and you were thankful for that position. Anything said didn’t matter. It would evaporate and leave no trace. Tommy understood this well, participating in a game he didn’t know the rules of.

“Modernity is irrelevant.” You corrected. Your words sunk into your stomach, weighing you down. “This is beyond time.”

—

“Gave a try shoveling shit, eh?” Tommy crossed his legs, leaning back with an ease you were envious of. A cigarette was rolled along his lips, a habit formed by comfort.

Once lit, the image was complete. It had clicked. “You.”

Thomas Shelby. Your memory of him held a haze, that night's intoxication cherry-picking how you retained the interaction. But your vague image of him was enough to understand his occupation. You were warned against his world, but you could only do so much when your worlds overlapped so bizarrely.

“Me.” He confessed with mitigation. There was a cadence even in his silence. Clearly, he was thinking of how to approach you, but you failed to recognize how he always remained ahead in his business. “You were found near the stables.”

“Apparently, I’m a witch.” You mused. Cheltenham was never dull.

Tommy hummed, entertaining your wit only slightly. “They think you’ve cursed the horses.”

Horses were efficient beasts that were often mistreated, that much you knew. However, they intimidated you into submission. Their role in your life was distant, typically involving a reflection of wealth and nothing more.

You hid behind the stables because you misunderstood the distance you created. It had a false bottom that showed those in your world never enter their stables, allowing others to do the hard work. Those around you wouldn’t dare stain their fine fabrics how you chose to.

Although the air was foul, the stables were the only place you could breathe without the hands of your arranged date finding home where they weren’t welcomed.

You knew the man who caught you was Tommy’s brother. Though they looked different, the air surrounding them was suffocating. They were driven by brutal confidence that manifested physically and for Tommy mentally. The mind game you were presented with was just as predetermined as the races.

“I want us to understand each other.” Ash fell from Tommy’s cigarette in thought. “We do not share the same fantasy.”

“And what fantasy is that?”

“Poor little rich girl—” His words were punctuated. “—thinks she can play gypsy until she hears the dinner bell.”

Your laughter made him flinch. “And what’s for dinner?”

Tommy had vetted you. No one knew anything worthy about you. So everyone simply fantasized about you, spinning tales. Yet, you were an extraordinary nobody—an amazing unknown. Suspicion wasn’t necessary, but there was no need for his growing intrigue.

“That man you came with…” Tommy knew who he was. He was another kid that thought one day he could rule the world. But all he was capable of was poorly executed white-collar crime. “Who is he?”

You shrugged. “To him, I am his girlfriend.”

“And to you?”

“Does that matter?”

Tommy quickly learned that your only form of retaliation was posed through questions. The more philosophical, the more your guard remained. “I've been thinking about what you've said…”

The admission alone was out of character and also misrepresented. Tommy's mind was riddled with your sentiments. It was a thoughtful comment on something broader, something Tommy knew of and was growing to understand. But that wasn’t what preoccupied him.

It was how your poise wasn’t carried through your posture. It was how you expressed yourself indifferently but spoke so sharply. You were a constant contrast that perplexed him, possessed him to look into you, into your life. He planned to search until he found a moment where you put your thoughts to use the way he had.

“You, a suffragette?” Your lip curled at the thought. “Now, that, Mr. Shelby, is a fantasy.”

—

Planning an escape was satisfying but little compared to the follow-through.

The feeling solidified when the silk hem of your dress billowed was the only trail of your escape. You could hear your name echo along the corridor wall, someone sent to find you and force you back into the festivities.

“Where are you going?” The voice was a mix of a whisper and shout, reflecting nothing but urgency. The guests weren’t privy to your behavior, but your absence was clear. You heard your name again.“You must come down! You’re upsetting the guests!”

Although your home, the walls felt like they were shifting, creating a maze to your safety. The click of your heels was like a countdown to being caught. That was until your hand frantically found an antique handle of the most inconspicuous door.

Sliding into the broom closet, darkness invaded your senses.

With its veil, you could make out the sliver of light that fought to illuminate the room from the other side. It tracked the shadow of who chased you, showing you how they inched closer, hoping to hear your rapid breathing. Once enough time was given to their search; the footsteps receded in the wrong direction, their voice calling after you growing faint.

Your relief was borderline euphoric; your body demonstrated success as the tension drained the further you calmed. You sunk toward the door, forehead against the smooth, cool wood.

The sound behind was as quick as the movement. Identifiable and surprising.

The match created friction that illuminated the small space with an orange glow. You moved fast, your breath pinned to the roof of your mouth.

“Cigarette?” Tobacco filled the cramped room, the burning end of the cigarette not quite exposing your companion. But you could feel the amusement at the situation radiate from the corner.

Your stupor made you move with shock. “Christ!”

Your hand shot up to feel around for the light switch above you, yanking on the cord. Awash in light, you took in the sight of the man who was casually nursing a cigarette.

“Mr. Shelby?” You blinked at him, dumbfounded.

“Tommy.”

“What are you—

“I’m a guest.” The cigarette bobbed with his chiding.

“A guest.” You repeated, your tone brimming with doubtful sarcasm. “And what is a guest doing, hiding here, so far away from the party?”

“I could ask the same of you.” He quipped, icy expression holding your own.

“Ah, but I’m not a guest.” You defended yourself, holding up a finger as you corrected him. “This is my family’s party. I am technically a host.”

“Well—” He began, taking a puff of his cigarette, silver smoke spilling from his lips as he spoke. “—not a very good host if you’re hiding up here, eh?”

Your eyebrows cocked as you took him in. His presence meant business. “I don’t seem to remember my father mentioning gangsters would be on the guest list tonight.”

“Why not?” He replied, shrugging nonchalantly. “We’re good fun at parties.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” You mused. “But I doubt this is your kind of party.” You wished to witness him in action, for him to live up to all the stories you’ve heard about him firsthand. And you could tell he was itching for you to ask. “What have you got planned tonight?”

“If you must know—” Tommy remained externally stoic but revealed himself bluntly. “—I’m here to rob your family blind.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your father has come into quite a bit of money recently,” Tommy said, words calculated and measured. “He’s been stepping on the Blinders’ business. So, I came here tonight to take back what’s ours.”

“How much?” You asked.

“A million dollars.” He sighed, highlighting his statement with a drag of his cigarette.

“That all?” You scoffed.

“You’d hardly miss it,” Tommy explained. “And, with your family’s yearly legendary holiday party going on tonight, I figured I could hide until all the…” He took a second to ponder, searching for the words, “...rich fucks down there were drunk enough. Then, I’d take what’s mine and leave. No one would be any the wiser.”

There was a pause. He wanted you to protest, but he knew you wouldn’t. You were reading him just as well. It quickly became a stalemate, but you had the advantage of toying with him.

“Well, I should fulfill my host duties.” You sighed, tone wrapping up the unorthodox interaction. “Find my father while I’m at it; tell him bookkeepers are infested in our walls.”

“You’re not going back down there.”

Another pause. Your skin crawled with jest. “And why’s that, Mr. Shelby?”

He shook his head casually, eyes boring through yours. “You’re not going back down there because you don’t want to.”

“What?” Your laugh was soft and unexpected. It was hard to determine, but some of you would have rathered a threat. This was almost as entertaining.

“I can tell you don’t want to go down there. So don’t.”

Behind your back, you reached for the doorknob, but as your fingers grazed it, you lost your nerve. You sighed, flexing your fingers.

“Move over.” You instructed, and Tommy listened. He slid closer to the wall as you squeezed beside him, arm against him in a one-sided comfort. “Poor little rich girl opening up to a gangster. Never saw that in the cards.” You plucked the cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag, carefully considering your next words. “It’s never as simple as it seems, really.”

“Sure it is.”

“It really isn’t.” You chuckled, eyes trained on the glowing end of the cigarette.

“Enlighten me.” He replied, taking the cigarette back as you passed it to him.

The emotions you kept bottled up bubbled in your throat. Living in the gilded cage of high society had privilege but was equally emotionally destructive. It felt foreign, the thought of exposing yourself with such vulnerability; you grew nervous at the prospect of having to do so.

“Simplicity is a pipe dream when your life relies on codependency.” Just the thought of it made you dizzy. “It’s better to hide than risk being a blemish to the family.”

Tommy stayed quiet. Then against better judgment, he spoke. “Why not just leave? You’re a clever girl. Surprised you haven’t figured that out yet.”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” You countered without edge; you knew his slight dig was only to lighten things. He said his part out of decency. “Why do you think I was at those stables? If it weren’t for your brother…”

The crackle of your drag filled the new-found silence. You weren’t sure how long you’d stay there nor how long you subject Tommy to your company. It was a moment of brevity you both seemed to need. You hadn’t meant to find him, and his plan had nothing to do with you, but that in itself sparked your idea.

“Hey, Tommy?”

He turned to meet your contact, eyebrows raised, air mixing from the proximity. “Hmm?”

“How’d you like some help with stealing that million?”

#q #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x f!reader #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x f!reader #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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flowerandblood · 1 year

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Girl with a Pearl Earring

[modern! photographer • Aemond x female]

[warnings: dirty talk, domination, sexual tension, fluff]

[description: Aemond is a photographer dealing with works referring to the painting of the old masters. His sister poses in class for a girl who catches his attention. He decides that she would be a perfect model for one of his photos. Lots of sexual tension and slowly built fascination.]

Part 2 - Magdalene with the Smoking Flame

Part 3 - Ophelia

Part 4 - Lady with an Ermine

Part 5 - Rokeby Venus (End)

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

_____

It's been a long time since there was such a beautiful model in a painting class as Helaena Targaryen. With her fair, almost white hair, slender, fair face, snub nose, and blue eyes, she looked like an angel. She was able to create an amazing hairstyle with her combed braids.

The students and the professor decided to dress her in a blue gown, borrowed from costume designers from a nearby theater, in the style of seventeenth-century French fashion. Behind her was a large yellow background falling into the shade of warm gold. Even as herself, sitting half-profile towards them, she looked like a painting.

She had a great connection with her right away and they talked a lot. She knew that Helaena was the daughter of the dean of the university, a famous furniture maker and sculptor. Their entire family was famous for their strong commitment to the arts. She knew that Helaena's brother, Aemond, was in the fifth year of photography.

She was in her second year of painting and knew most of the people in his major - they often traded lecture halls - but he was always completely withdrawn. She had never seen him talk to anyone, he was always the first to leave the classroom.

Several girls from her year tried to flirt with him and get his attention, but their attempts ended in total failure. Still, she felt it wasn't fair that they were talking about him behind his back after being rejected. She tried not to express an opinion about him, because she didn't know him.

Even though it was known how Helaena got this temporary job, no one held any grudges about it because she bravely endured hours of posing without flinching. She decided to paint her portrait in the style of the Italian masters, starting with a monochromatic underpainting, applying the color with glazes in delicate layers. She was just starting to apply color to her face, making the character's face seem to emerge from the sketch around it.

The professor called a break and everyone got up to stretch a bit. Helaena stepped down from the platform and approached her, wanting to see how she was doing, as usual. She was delighted to see that the work was slowly moving to an advanced stage.

"What you do is amazing. You have real talent!” She said with her hand over her heart, playing with the chain. She smiled warmly at her.

They were talking for a while about ways of painting and different types of portraits when suddenly Aemond entered their room. He was looking for his sister with his eye, and when he saw her he walked towards her, greeting only the professor on the way.

"Ah, Aemond, thank you." Helaena said as he handed her apparently her own phone. "I had completely forgotten about him. Come closer, do you want to see how beautiful my new friend paints?” Helaena asked happily and she looked down in embarrassment. She guessed he didn't want to, but out of politeness he came over and stood behind them.

He literally said nothing. She glanced at him uncertainly over her shoulder and met his intense gaze which almost scared her. She blinked and opened her mouth slightly, then closed it, wondering if she should say something. She turned her head away, swallowing softly.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It makes me look like a baroque countess." Helaena said happily, looking at her brother.

Aemond only grunted, nodded, and stepped around her easel as he left the room. She looked at Helaena slightly shocked, but she seemed completely unfazed by his behavior.

"Is he always like this?" She asked quietly, wondering what had just happened. Helena laughed.

"Yes, he is very economical with words."

***

She entered the painting room first. She liked to look at her paintings from a distance before going back to work. When she looked at it with fresh eyes, she suddenly noticed all the mistakes she hadn't seen the day before.

It immediately caught her eye that she had painted one of the eyes a little too close to the nose. She immediately grabbed the brush, mixing the paints properly, wanting to fix it without even waiting for the model to show up.

She heard someone enter the room and, thinking it was Helaena, greeted loudly. Surprised after a while that no one answered her, she leaned over the easel and realized surprised, that her brother was standing in front of her.

Aemond, as usual, was dressed all in black. His black turtleneck emphasized his slender, long face and long, blond hair partly pulled back. He looked at her expectantly, as if he wanted to say something. She blinked, wondering what he might be looking for here, and suddenly it dawned on her.

“Helaena hasn't arrived yet, she'll probably be here in a few minutes. Should I tell her something?" She asked softly and smiled warmly at him. She decided that she would not be guided by the opinion of others and would form her own opinion about him.

Aemond turned his head, staring out the window, his mouth tight. He tapped his fingers on the sill as if thinking hard. After a moment he looked at her suddenly.

"Pose for me." He said indifferently, looking at her with a stony face. She sucked in a breath, completely taken aback by his proposal. She blinked, putting down her brush, looking at him curiously. She's never stood on the other side, modeling for someone.

“I take photos stylized as copies of paintings by old masters. I'd like you to pose for me as a Vermeer Girl with a Pearl Earring." He explained, apparently wanting to make it clear that he didn't mean the act or anything else that might seem inappropriate to her. She smiled widely.

"Very willingly! That sounds great. Will I also have to prepare the appropriate costume for this?" She asked, clearly excited, stepping closer to him. Aemond stared at her, surprised by her energy.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'll get you something." He said looking at her face thoughtfully. She blinked.

“I can sew well, and a lot of photography is about making the fabric look real. I can take care of it, I used to sew some historical costumes as a hobby.” She said lightly, looking at him expectantly. Aemond stared at her, clearly amazed at her commitment. He didn't seem to know what to say to her for a moment, because he hadn't expected such a pleased reaction.

“Well … if you want, of course, you can sew something. I'll bring something too. I will book a photo studio for next friday. Will you make it by then?" He asked softly, clearly appeased by the way she was acting.

"Yes, I will."

***

She was incredibly excited about his proposal. They exchanged phone numbers in case the studio was busy that day or needed to contact each other for other details about the shoot.

She had no idea why he chose her or what he saw in her, but she was very pleased that he wanted her to pose for him. She always dreamed of being someone's model, and she knew he was a talented photographer.

His pictures were really miniatures put in huge frames, almost like paintings. His photos, although colorful, had a kind of noise and blur that made the photo look old. He probably used special plates and exposure methods for this, but she wasn't very familiar with it. However, she knew that he was great at capturing the moment, chiaroscuro and color. There was something painterly about his photographs.

She spent one afternoon wandering around second-hand clothing stores where fabrics could be found cheaply. She was pleased that she had found everything she needed.

When she got home, she turned on her sewing machine, sewing a brown blouse for herself, and what she couldn't sew on the machine she sewed by hand.

She looked at herself in the mirror, looking at the effect of her work and decided that everything looked great. The fabrics she chose were soft and draped smoothly without looking artificial. She suddenly realized that she was missing the most important thing - a pearl earring. The pictures were to be taken the very next day, so she texted him quickly, scared.

[Y]: "I completely forgot that I need an earring, and I can't buy anything at this hour!"

After a few minutes, she saw that she had received a reply.

[Aemond]: "I was able to find a virtually identical pair of earrings at one of the pawnshops. I also have some fabrics if needed."

She took a quick portrait photo of her reflection and sent it to him along with the message.

[Y]: "I don't think any additional materials will be necessary."

He didn't write back to her for a long time. She got scared that he didn't like what she had created and started to worry. She jumped as her display lit up and she got a new message.

[Aemond]: "Well done."

***

She entered the studio at the time stated, looking around. Aemond was already inside, apparently adjusting the lighting. He just glanced at her and went back to working on setting the lamp.

"Close the door." He said coldly. She dutifully did as he asked and placed her backpack on one of the chairs against the wall. She took out all the materials she had prepared. She looked at him uncertainly.

"Can I change somewhere?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her in surprise and cleared his throat.

"Yes, you have a small storage room on the other side." He said, pointing to the opposite side of the room. "The door is open."

She nodded and quickly walked into the small room. With resignation she found that there was no mirror in it. There was no problem with putting on the shirts, but she had some issues with tying the bonnet and scarf.

Resigned, she poked her head out of the door, searching for him. He was looking through the camera at the place where she was supposed to be sitting.

"I need your help. I can't see if I tied it properly." She said pointing to the fabric on her head. Aemond motioned for her to come closer.

"Sit down. Here, like this.” He said, turning her with his hand, so that her body sat in profile to him. When he touched her with his large, cool hand, she shivered.

She watched him from below as he busied himself with tidying up her headgear. He glanced once in a while at the printed reproduction of the painting on the floor in front of him to get it right.

After a while he seemed pleased with the result. He handed her a pearl earring, and she put it on, empathizing with the person she was about to be. Aemond pulled away, took the camera in his hands and looked through the lens.

"Turn your head slightly towards me. No, not that much. Oh, that's right. Open your mouth slightly." He said matter-of-factly and suddenly she heard the sound of the camera shutter. Aemond pursed his lips.

"Don't look at me with such terrified eyes. Relax." He said and she swallowed softly, squeezed her eyes shut and tried to pull herself together.

This time she tried to keep her gaze soft. Aemond took the picture again. He pulled back and looked at her thoughtfully. His gaze was intense and he seemed to be thinking about something.

"Lick your lips." He said suddenly. She shivered at his words and looked at him in surprise, thinking she had misheard.

"What?" She asked quietly. Aemond looked at her expectantly.

"Rub your lips with your tongue. So that they shine." He recommended.

She felt her heart pounding. She blushed, ashamed and pursed her mouth, not looking at him, her tongue running slowly over her lips. She looked at him and saw that he swallowed softly.

He walked over to her and lowered the material of her shirt so that it showed more of her neck. She felt his fingers brush over her bare skin and gasped, wondering if he had done it on purpose. She looked at him and saw a shadow pass over his face.

"Yes. Look at me like that." He said, looking quickly through the lens. She lowered her eyes, embarrassed, feeling the tension in her whole body.

"Don't look away. Look at me. That's how you're supposed to look at me." He said in a tone that conveyed some kind of arousal and desire that made her shiver. She looked at him, her eyes hazy and slightly dreamy.

"Open your mouth." He ordered in a low voice, and when she did, he immediately took a series of photos of her.

"God, yes. Just like that." He said with a delight that made her even more embarrassed.

She lowered her eyelids, feeling her cheeks burn, pressing her lips together. Aemond looked at her with a mixture of admiration and something she couldn't name.

"Pose for me more often. I will pay you." He said suddenly and she looked at him surprised. She swallowed loudly.

"I… you don't have to pay me." She spluttered, looking away from him, looking down at her hands. She didn't know what was happening to her. She could feel his intense gaze on her, her heart pounding like crazy.

"Is that all?" She asked suddenly without looking at him.

Silence answered her. She heard him swallow hard.

"…yes, that's all." He spoke low, with a note of unreasonable uncertainty in his voice. She nodded and got up without looking at him, heading to the room where her things were.

She took off her costume and only now felt her hands tremble. She wondered what had just happened between them. She felt as if something inexplicable, artistic, intense and sensual had developed between them.

She left the room as soon as she was done. Aemond looked at her, obviously tense, looking at her expectantly. They looked at each other in silence.

"When can I see the result of your work?" She asked softly and saw him flinch as if he was thinking of something completely different, and her question brought him back to earth.

"On exhibition in two weeks." He said calmly, looking away. There was silence between them for a moment.

"Shall I go now?" She asked quietly, not knowing if he needed her for anything else. He looked at her in surprise and hesitated for a moment.

"Yes…yes, thank you, you can go." He said low. She nodded, said goodbye and left, closing the door behind her.

***

Aemond and she hadn't spoken to each other since the photos were taken. She saw him stare at her as they passed, but neither of them dared to speak. She wondered if he felt what she felt then too. She thought resignedly that his proposal was probably already out of date, but she had no intention of pestering him.

Helaena encouraged her to go with her to the exhibition. She had lost her will, but what Helaena said shocked her.

"Are you kidding? Your photo is at the center of his part of this exhibition. In the middle of the wall, in a beautiful frame, spotlit, the rest of his works are on the walls on the sides. This is probably his most beautiful picture!”

She blushed at her words and bowed her head. Her words made her feel that despite her fears she had to see it live.

What he saw on the other side of the lens.

That evening, she and Helaena arranged to meet outside the hall. She didn't want to go there alone, knowing that few people she knew would be there. She was grateful that she wanted to keep her company.

They went inside together, there were a lot of guests inside, talking intensely about something. The exhibition consisted of a series of works by several artist photographers, including Aemond. She noted with interest that her painting professor was also among the crowd.

At the very beginning there was a speech by the patron who funded the exhibition. He talked a bit about the assumptions of the exhibition, their artists and the works themselves. After it was over, as people rushed to fetch glasses of wine dispersing to explore, she saw with a lump in her throat what Helaena was talking about.

On the other side of the room hung her portrait. She had to get very close to it becasue photography was small in size, about the size of a notebook page.

The photo was slightly hazy, but sharp at the same time as if you could feel the air that was filling the studio at the time. She was delighted to see that indeed, the colors of her outfit perfectly reflected the saturation of those in the original painting.

She felt both awe and shame as she looked at her face. Her glossy lips were gently parted as if she was exhaling softly. Her gaze was warm, hazy, full of some unspoken, intense feeling.

She gave the impression that she wanted to say something to the viewer, as if she was already opening her mouth to say the words. She thought it was indeed a great photo and barely recognized herself in it.

She swallowed hard as she saw that indeed, her gold-framed picture was the only one on the main wall, the rest of his work was more closely spaced on the side walls. He clearly made this work the focus of his exhibition.

She looked curiously at his other works, and saw that they too alluded to the works of the old masters. She flinched as she heard a low voice behind her.

"What do you think?" Aemond asked, standing literally inches from her. He was so close she could feel his hot breath. She looked at him over her shoulder, confused.

"It's beautiful." She said softly. Aemond looked down at her, his gaze dark. He took a sip of wine from his glass, looking at her searchingly.

“I agreed with my professor on the subject of my diploma thesis. I want you to pose for me for female portraits like this one." He spoke calmly and matter-of-factly. She opened her mouth in surprise and blinked rapidly.

"I… I'd be very happy if I could help you." She said softly and smiled warmly, trying to control her facial expressions and her trembling heart.

Aemond looked at her intently. He pursed his lips, apparently debating whether or not to say what he was thinking.

"Be my muse."

_____

I decided that I wanted to write something that would be a one-shot and I came up with this idea. I really like what came out of it and I'm curious about your opinion. Let me know if you'd like it to be a mini series with other paintings in the background. If you want to be tagged, leave a comment below. ♥

@zenka69 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff

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dyns33 · 3 months

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Stealing perfume

So I said it would be an Murderdock one shot, but it's a bit of a part 2 for Flower arrangement, even if you don't need to read part 1 to read this.

Y/N had never imagined Matthew when he was a child.

She might have, wondering if he had looked like a little ginger angel with blue eyes, using his adorable little pout to get everything he wanted. He was doing that now, except he preferred threats, with a big evil smile.

Sometimes he took on an innocent look, but that only worked with people who didn't know him, or who were too stupid to understand that it was a mask.

She didn't remember why Foggy had talked about Matt as a child. After drinking several beers, he asked her how she managed to be friends with him. Strange question, coming from the “best friend in the world”.

“I'm not friends with him, I've known him for years and we do each other favors. Do you know what Murdock was like when he was a teenager ? Like now, but more aggressive. Hiding his insults with less syrup and contempt. I wonder if he was already a devil when he was little.”

“You think he came out of the ground surrounded by flames just to ruin your school years ?” Y/N scoffed as she finished her drink.

“No, but I’m serious ! A mini Matt ! Even more vicious, quieter, who can slip between your legs without you hearing.”

“He can already do that.”

“I don’t want to hear it ! I'm just saying, has he always been like this, or has something happened ? Do you think it was an accident ? The loss of his sight, of his parents ? He never talks about his past, it's weird. Maybe… Maybe you’re right about the exit from the ground.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like to talk about it and you’ve had enough to drink for tonight.”

“Lots of mini Murdocks… Promise me you won’t make little Murdocks.”

“Come on Foggy, I’ll take you home.”

To answer his question, Y/N couldn’t explain why she was “friends” with Matt, much less why he was “friends” with her. They had been seeing each others for several months, still without giving a specific name to their relationship, and it was working.

She knew perfectly well what had happened to young Matthew, since he had told her once, but they had never spoken about it again after that, and she was not going to tell anyone else.

This show of trust was something else, along with the flowers and the kisses, that helped her know that she meant something, much more than most people.

They didn't intend to make little Murdocks, as Foggy said. With Matt's employers, both those in the public eye and those hidden in the shadows, it didn't seem wise to have children.

That, in addition to the fact that he was not good with others, regardless of their age, quite selfish, nervous, dangerous, and therefore unsuitable to be a father.

They hadn't talked about it, but it seemed obvious.

Since they weren't a couple, Y/N didn't worry when she didn't hear from Murdock for several days. It happened that he disappeared, because of his work, his other job, or because he wanted to be alone.

“Away from all these idiots.” as he liked to say. Before meeting her, he visited Silk in prison, or Stark's ex-wives. He told her with a strange smile, before pouting and noting that it didn't really make her react.

If she ended up stopping by his apartment, it wasn't at all because she was starting to wonder if he was okay or if he was seeing someone else, but because she had forgotten her jacket the last time she came.

Of course, he wasn't there. The apartment was empty, and Otomo had told her before she went upstairs that the Master was away for an indefinite period.

“And I guess you can’t tell me where he is.”

“I’ll be honest, we don’t know.”

"Oh. Personal reasons then."

"Probably. Master Murdock was so keen to be alone that he disappeared one evening. We didn't see him leave the place."

It wasn't completely impossible, Matt was good at it. But it was the Hand who had taught him the art of stealth, and they were very good at tracking their targets. Besides, they wouldn't exactly be kind to him when he came back, because they hated not knowing where their employees were.

The apartment had been cleaned, quiet and empty, and yet Y/N stopped in the entrance. She was not a fighter. As a joke, Murdock had wanted to teach her some ninja techniques, but without much success.

However, she immediately felt that there was something. Especially when she couldn't find her jacket.

Y/N remembered perfectly where she had left it, in the bedroom. She also knew where Matt or his cleaners put her forgotten things so she could find them easily.

But the jacket wasn't there.

She could have left, she had other jackets and she knew it wasn't a good idea to stay here too long, going through Matt's things while he was gone.

At the same time, she would not often have the opportunity to look for some shameful secrets. Murdock didn't hesitate to enter her home, fiddling with everything, moving places, and even changing things like the contents of her fridge and her sheets.

He would sulk for a while, refusing to admit that he found her attitude amusing, and using it to blackmail her.

Smiling as she imagined the tortures he was no doubt going to invent, Y/N opened a drawer, then another, a cupboard, before jumping, while a redheaded child half-hidden under a pile of clothes stared at her with his big eyes.

Big, empty, blue eyes that didn't focus.

“… Matthew ?” she asked, slowly sitting down next to him.

"We know each other then. I wasn't sure. Who are you ?"

"I… Yes, we know each other. I'm Y/N."

“Not a lie.” he whispered to himself.

“What the hell happened ?”

"I don't know. I woke up here. There's my smell everywhere, just a bit different. People passed by but I hid like Stick taught me. I couldn't open the door and it's too dangerous to go through the window."

Completely crazy and fearless, adult Matthew would have been perfectly capable of climbing through the window. But he knew his apartment and the building perfectly.

But this child, who was obviously no more than ten years old, was lost and frightened. He tried not to show it too much, because it would bother Stick, his teacher. Even though the Hand was worse than him, he had also been horrible to the poor kid during his training.

He had been hiding for several days, remaining still and silent every time Otomo or anyone else entered, waiting for the right moment to try to escape.

Maybe he heard that Y/N wasn't a danger, that he could trust her. He trembled a little when she stroked his hair and his cheek, showing a surprised look when she asked him if he wanted to eat.

Knowing his sensory problems, she knew what to prepare so that he could swallow his meal without too much problem. Especially since he must have been even more sensitive, because children were always more sensitive with food.

After sniffing the sandwish, Matthew agreed to chew it carefully. He was quite adorable, with his messy hair, his feet that didn't touch the ground and… her jacket.

“Would you like to take a shower and have me find you a t-shirt afterwards ?”

"No."

"No… Okay… It's my jacket."

"I know."

Of course he knew. The little shit made Murdock look superior as he said that, very proud of himself. Y/N waited for him to add that the item of clothing smelled so strongly like her that anyone could have known it belonged to her.

That didn't explain why he'd decided to wear it, though, rather than the skin-friendly clothes that populated the apartment's closets.

“It doesn’t smell too much like you anymore.” was finally what he said in a small voice.

"That's a good thing, right ? I know you have a sensitive nose."

"… Hmm."

Suddenly, he pouted. This he did when he was sad but trying to hide it and just look irritated.

Sensing that she was looking at him, he lowered his head.

“You don’t mind that the jacket smells like me ?”

"… No." he said shyly, continuing to make himself small. "The apartment smells a lot like you. A mix of you and me. That's how I knew that I knew you."

"Oh."

“You’re important to me, right ?”

No doubt she didn't need to answer him, since he could hear her heart and all the other little signs of her body. Still, she didn't really have an answer. They never talked about it.

Yes, Y/N enjoyed her time with Matt. And he seemed to enjoy the moments with her. And there had been the flowers, and the kisses, and those nights where he clung to her, his head on her chest, saying nothing and letting her touch him even though he hated human contact.

And now he was leaving her scent in his apartment. While he was a real maniac, even among others.

Lost in thought, Y/N jumped slightly when she felt the small hand grabbing her sleeve.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you ?”

"Of course not." she said without the slightest hesitation, taking him in her arms.

The gesture scared him a bit. The poor boy must not have received a gesture of affection for a long time. But he hugged her back, choking back a sob as she rocked him. She thought she heard him whisper "mommy" but she didn't comment.

Texting Otomo that she was going to spend the night at the apartment and that she didn't want to be disturbed, she carried him to bed to get some rest. He must not have slept since his strange transformation.

They would find a solution later, with Spiderwoman or the Hand. But for now, Y/N wanted young Matt to have some quiet time, kissing him on the forehead as he fell asleep.

It was not necessary to ask for help however, because the next day, when she opened her eyes, she saw Matthew, adult again, staring at the ceiling, motionless.

"… I guess we're not going to talk about what happened."

"No. Never. To anyone."

"All right."

“Young me is a moron.”

"Don't say that. You were adorable."

"A moron, who doesn't know how to hold his tongue and who asks stupid questions." he growled, kissing her bestially before leaving the room just as quickly.

Y/N waited a bit before getting up, because the bed was much more conformable than hers even if she denied it every time Matt brought it up. Then she put on her shoes, she walked towards the door trying to ignore the ninja who was drinking his tea, before seeing her jacket, forgotten the day before on the chair.

But when she tried to take it, Matt went faster than her, grabbing the clothes and putting it on his shoulder, showing his teeth.

"… Okay." was the only thing she said, raising her hands.

"No, wait. Take it back."

“Because it doesn’t smell like me anymore ?”

"Shut up."

“Do you want me to leave you my scarf ?”

"… Shut up." he repeated, taking her scarf to keep it firmly in his hand.

She didn't say goodbye to him, because either he was going to avoid her for days or he would be at her place that same evening. Because she was important to him, even if he would never tell her directly, trying to hide the little boy in him who would demand all her attention.

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murderdock #murderdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfic

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wally-darling-hyperfixation · 1 year

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Happy Birthday Wally: Actor Wally x Stage hand one off

Do not tag clown bee cause they don’t want to be tagged in written fan art but for everyone else to se HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLOWN AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY EVERYONE WHO HAS BIRTHDAY TODAY 🎂 make sure to keep you eyes out for random birthday cakes

🍎Today was just another day for Wally. Drive to the stage area. Park his car in his private spot. Head on in to go to his dressing room and get a team to do his makeup. He actually forgot it was his birthday because the week had been so busy. They had been making a Mother’s Day post and talking about moms on the show and people who we see as moms. It was exhausting to Wally. He never really talks about his mother. Though he loves her a lot. He just gets so busy with work that he barely has time to contact family. He heads to the stage shooing away the makeup artists who finished with him so he can go to wardrobe. He notices you and his fellow cast mates whispering but is whisked away to be in todays outfit.

🎬 You were talking with the cast the other day and they told you about Wally’s birthday. Barnaby told you how busy they all been lately and how Wally may have forgotten. So you all got together and formed the Wally Birthday 🎂 surprise group. Poppy would bake the cake. Howdy would get the supplies and Sally would decorate. Since those three weren’t in this weeks episode. They really wanted to help out. So you tell them to bring everything to the dressing room on Wally’s birthday and while everyone is filming the show , they set up for the surprise party. You watch Wally walk by and wait for him to leave the dressing and as soon as he left , the party set up started!

🍎 Wally exits the dressing rooms and sees that Howdy , Poppy, and Sally walk away. He just assumes they going to go chill at the food court area since they weren’t in todays episode. He watches you run around seeming to do even more extra stuff. He wonders what you are doing but he does the episode. Barnaby was talking about his chicken mother. Julie was talking about her oldest sister who she sees as a mom. Frank talked about how his mother used to put bandages on his knee when he fell and Eddie talked about how his mother made the best biscuits he ever had. Wally talks about his mother with the others as they record the show. Not knowing what was happening behind the scenes. Soon enough. They finished filming and everyone packed up. His friends left him like they ran. He was confused . But he heads to wardrobe to get in his regular clothes.

🎬You hush everyone. Making sure they have their gifts in their hands for Wally knowing he would be coming in. The door slowly opens and in comes Wally. You all yell , “SURPRISE !!! Happy Birthday Wally!!!” Confetti flew at him and his face looked shocked. Poppy showed a cake that had his face on it. 🎂 He was so shocked . Everyone hand their gifts and gave him hugs and sang happy birthday and he just smiles tearing up. You hand him your gift last. He opens it and it was a picture of all of them when you first started working together with them. “Thank you (y/n). And thank you for the birthday party,” he says which surprises you. He guessed right it was you. “I got one last gift for you Wally,” you say and give him a cheek kiss finally showing you like him . “Happy birthday Wally,” you say after it and his face turns bright red but he just sighs happily looking at you. “Thank you (y/n) ,” he holds your arm after was swooning over you . Best birthday ever

Ta Da. Some little fluff for my darling. Happy birthday to Clown and everyone else who has a birthday this month!!!!!

Wally tags: @akilaporu001

#welcome home #welcome home fandom #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home x reader #welcome home wally #welcome home x y/n #wally darling x self insert #wally x y/n #wally x reader

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vasyandii · 5 months

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PROBLEM CHILD

KruegerNak FIC

TYPE: SET IN KRUEGER'S PERSPECTIVE, just insight into how their initial relationship was starting out.

SYNOPSIS:Before they were dating they were friends, before they were friends they were petty assholes.

WARNINGS: Crude language, Depictions of violence, Nak and Krueger are just Assholes

CHARACTERS: Sebastian Krueger, Phayvanh "Nak" Sotsvahn, Nikolai

WORD COUNT: 1000+

CREATOR NOTES: This is something I wrote while writing Edelweiss (Changing name to be a continuation of Plumeria), it still has some stuff I need to fix but as soon as that's done with, I'll post it :3 as always, the art is done by me!

---

"I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!" She shrieks, other unit members prying her off and away from him as she's thrashing about. "Let me go!"

Krueger stood over Nak, his chest heaving with laborious breaths. Blood trickled down from a split in his lip, mixing with the dirt and grime on his face. He was a picture of apathetic victory; battered but unbowed, a smirk playing on his grimy face as he regarded the new specialist trying to claw her way past the unit members holding her back.

His fingers prodded gingerly at the split skin of his knuckles - By now he forgot what they were beating each other for. She had spirit, but she often bites off more than she could chew.

Ignoring the burning feel on his face and possible bruised ribs – because damn that bitch packed surprisingly powerful kicks – Krueger lit up a cigarette and took deep drags, he knew his ass was in trouble as well.

---

In the office, Nikolai paced back and forth like a caged animal. His usually cool demeanor seemed to have frayed at the edges.

"Fighting in broad daylight, Again." his tone stern from behind his oak table scattered with undisclosed documents. "You're supposed to be professionals."

Krueger sat nonchalantly on one of those uncomfortable metal chairs they had around here, watching Nikolai's rant impassively through narrowed brown eyes. The cigarette - A new one, perched between his lips was all but forgotten now as ashes threatened to spill onto the floor.

"Of all people Krueger!" Nikolai finally spat out his name like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "How many times do I have to remind you."

Nak sat neatly, hands in her lap. The woman looked rather pleased with herself despite her disheveled appearance as she listens to Nikolai berate him.

That was until Nikolai shifted is attention to her.

"And you!" Nikolai's gaze snapped towards Nak, Krueger swore he saw her flinch. "You think that childish outburst makes you look tough?".

Nikolai ran a hand through his greying hair, frustration clear on his face. Nak stayed silent, whether it was to save her ass or because she didn't have the right words to say.

Krueger watched from the corner of his eye as her smirk morphed into an irritatingly defiant sneer. He could almost read the silent challenge in her gaze - one that screamed she'd do it all over again if given the chance.

"I was teaching him a lesson," She said to Nikolai. "Your worker should learn to watch his mouth."

Krueger chuckled at her bold retort. He turned to meet her gaze with an insincere smile plastered on his bruised face, "Oh really?" His tone dripped with sarcasm as he leaned back comfortably in his chair, drumming his fingers against the wood.

"I guess next time I should watch out for midgets in whatever jungle you crawled from." He fired back mockingly, shooting Nikolai a glance before smirking at Nak.

If they were going to throw insults now, he wasn't one to back down. "Oh look who's finally learned some big words," he quipped back swiftly.

"You-" Nak stood from her seat, hand pulling him by the collar. "I'll straighten your damn jaw, ຝະລັ່ງຂີ້ນົກ ."

"Enough!" Nikolai stopped them, silencing the room instantly. His vicious stare switched between Krueger and Nak.

She sat back down, cursing under her breath; something in a language he didn't understand. Asian probably.

"I don't give a damn about your petty squabbles," he growled, his icy gaze finally landing on Krueger again with full force of its fury. "Settle it or I will settle it for you."

The threat hung heavily in the room for what seemed an eternity before Nikolai turned away dismissively towards his desk - usually signifying that he was done with them.

Krueger rose nonchalantly from his chair and headed towards the door without so much as another word - no point further provoking the boss today after all. Nak was almost a foot out the door before Nikolai spoke again.

"Phayvanh, you stay."

What a strange name.

"I'm not going," She dismisses. "Nothing wrong with me. you're putting me through something that isn't worth shit."

Krueger listened in stealthily, his curiosity piqued. The stinging pain on his battered face subsided as his interest turned to the squabble he could overhear from Nikolai's office.

"It's not up for debate, Phayvanh," Nikolai snapped back curtly. "Your outburst clearly shows that you need those sessions."

"I can work!" she countered defiantly. "You are fucking making me dead weight!"

"Watch your language," Nikolai's voice turned stern, "You are an investment Phayvanh, and Chimera does not throw away investments lightly. You will go to those sessions."

Krueger chuckled softly against the wall. Oh, this would be fun to watch play out. He could see himself using her rebellious streak for his own amusement in the future.

"Investment? He's not an investment," She didn't need to offer a name for Krueger to know she was talking about him. "I don't need those sessions if you just get rid if him."

Krueger's smirk dropped, replaced by a scowl. The nerve of that little shit. His fists clenched involuntarily before he quickly forced himself to relax.

"He's one of our best."

Krueger felt an odd sense of satisfaction hearing those words from Nikolai.

"Whatever," Nak stood up to leave. "I'll go. Let's see how long it'll take for you to stop wasting your money."

---

It's midnight. Quiet other than her footsteps, something he's gotten used to since she got the job a month ago. Sometimes he could hear rummaging in community kitchen. He never bothered to look until now because, who gives a shit?

She doesn't sleep, she doesn't eat. What the hell is she doing?

Krueger sat silently in the dark, he rolled his eyes at himself for even caring enough to consider it. Nak had been quite the nuisance since she got here but her antics were starting to catch his interest.

Tossing his blanket to the side, he sighed and stood up from his bed, deciding impulsively to investigate whatever it was that she was doing this late at night.

He moved silently through the dimly lit corridors, making his way towards the source of the sound. He was aware that he was stalking her like prey in its natural habitat, but a part of him justified it as needing to know what she could be up to.

His footsteps were heavy against the cold stone floor, he saw light flickering under a door down the hallway - the kitchen.

He saw Nak turn sharply towards the direction of the sound he had made, her dark eyes wide in surprise.

Krueger froze momentarily, cursing himself internally for being so careless. He was usually silent in his movements - the fact that he hadn't been careful enough this time irked him immensely.

"Relax," His voice was low, laced heavily with mockery. "It's just me."

For a moment, they locked eyes and then she went back to whatever it was she'd been doing before he came.

Nak tried her best to ignore Krueger and his staring from the table. Her table, he knew that - it was fun to fuck with her.

He got his answer for what she's been doing, though; just making coffee.

Leaning back in her chair, he watched Phayvanh move around as she made the brew.

"You don't sleep much?" He finally broke the silence, curiosity getting better of him.

She replied curtly. "Don't speak to me."

He chuckled at her vain attempt to control their interaction, "So bossy… Didn't anyone ever tell you it's not polite to give orders?" His voice was rich with sarcasm as he rested his boots on the table, blatantly ignoring any boundaries she may have established over 'her' table.

"Why are you here," Nak carefully stirs her coffee with a spoon. The handle looked like it would snap by how tight she was gripping it.

"Curiosity," Krueger replied casually, watching the way she handled her cup. The concentration on her face was a stark contrast to the fiery defiance he'd seen earlier. "It's late and you're always up… thought I might join."

He hesitated momentarily before adding in a softer tone, "And maybe to piss you off, just a tad bit." A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he looked over at her.

"Go fuck yourself," She was going nowhere near that table when he just planted his ass in her seat. "ຝະລັ່ງ."

Krueger's smirk widened at her sharp reply. He was familiar with many languages, though he had to admit the dialect she spoke got lost on him.

"I'm afraid I didn't quite catch that," He drawled out lazily as his eyes glinted in amusement. "Want to run that by me again?"

Nak leaned down to his eye level like she was about to say something. Instead she opted to pouring her coffee on his lap.

---

For a split second, he froze in surprise before jumping up swiftly, uttering a guttural curse.

"You little bitch!" Krueger reached for her arm, roughly pulling her towards him to look into her defiant eyes.

"What the fuck was that for?" He spat out through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the burning sensation on his legs.

"I told you to go fuck yourself didn't I?" She mocked, waving her mug in hand. "You should listen to-"

"Do you two you what time it is?"

Nikolai. Great.

---

Krueger's attention snapped immediately to Nikolai who now stood at the entrance of the kitchen, his eyes flickering between Krueger and Phayvanh as he tried to assess the situation.

"She fucking poured coffee on me!" His grip tightened around her arm.

"He pissed himself." She just stated simply, hiding the mug behind her back. "Must've startled him or something."

Krueger blinked, appalled by her audacity.

"You fucking liar-" He began, but was quickly cut off by Nikolai.

"Enough," The older man barked out sharply, turning his icy glare towards Krueger first before it settled on Phayvanh.

"Why are both of you up this late? And why the hell is there coffee all over my floor?" His intense gaze bore into Phayvanh in particular, as if already suspecting her role in the entire mess.

"Piss." She corrected.

"Fuck you," Krueger growled at her under his breath. His calloused hand still clamped tight around her arm.

"Enough!" Nikolai repeated, exasperated. He sighed heavily and covered his face with a tired hand, "Clean this up and I don't want to see either one of you till sunrise."

With that he turned on his heel and left them alone once again in the dimly lit kitchen.

---

Nikolai out of sight, Nak took out the empty coffee mug she hid behind her back.

The sudden bonk on his head caught him off guard. He quickly let go of her arm, and rubbed the back of his head where she'd hit him, meeting her gaze with an irritated scowl. Wasn't enough to seriously hurt him like her punches, but still hurt nonetheless.

"You got some serious fucking issues, you know that?" He snarled at her.

Nak gave him a sidelong glance.

"I could've rendered you a vegetable with that. Consider it my apology," She snagged a rag from the counter. "Only because I feel bad for Nikolai."

Krueger watched her with a guarded expression as he grabbed another rag for himself.

"Wooow, " He couldn't help but quip back sarcastically. Despite everything, he had to admit there was something strangely interesting about Phayvanh's unpredictable disposition. "Such generosity from you is truly overwhelming."

"Hm, You're funny." She notes off handedly, cleaning the floor.

His sarcastic snort echoed in the small shared kitchen, "Yeah, and you're a fucking delight."

TRANSLATIONS

ຝະລັ່ງຂີ້ນົກ (Farang Khi Nok) - Literally translates to "Bird shit foreigner", basically "White Trash"

ຝະລັ່ງ (Farang) - Foreigner, specifically one of European descent. In this context it's used as a derogatory term.

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writingcold · 2 months

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Guess what...

I thought a double post to get us going would make for a good start. So, we’ve met our Jacob, let’s roll into chapter one, shall we?

Content Warnings: I need to put this here - this is a work of fiction. There will be imagery of violence, character deaths, inequities, poverty, heavy angst, and adult sexual situations throughout the story. Please read at your own discretion. All characters are fictional, though some of the big events that are shown are historical, but may not be historically accurate.

Thank you to @edgingthedarkness for all of her help as my all mighty beta for this fiction. She listened to me drone on and on about it for months on end. She really took a bullet for this one! She created the banner for this story as well! Also thank you to @katuschka for her amazing skills in bringing our hero Jakub to life. Divider art by @ firefly-graphics.

The Dead

Jake X Fem!Reader

Chapter One word count: approximately 7100 words

Warnings in this part: None other than language, being in the graveyard, perhaps seeing our ghost for the first time from y/n’s pov.

Chapter 1: The Visitor in the Graveyard

Cemeteries were supposed to be places of honor and reflection. For some, there is nothing but deep grief and despair but cling to the ground in a stark effort to hold on to loved ones lost. For others, the spaces are stained with loss and suffering but avoid to negate the trials of their painful, broken hearts through avoidance. For me, however, it is a place to allow my imagination to run wild. To latch on to pieces of history and rehydrate the roots of the past to weave new stories. I was driven by the need to visit the grand and lavish cemeteries of the huge urban areas, but I was equally intrigued by the tiny, backwater village graveyards of rural communities. There was inspiration to be found in the rotted marble and granite as well as the new, heartrending loss of pristine stone and vaults.

I may be known to some as a writer of spooky stories, so it would make sense that I find spaces of hallowed graves the perfect place for inspiration. Spooky is just happenstance. A cowl over the meat of what really interests me - the history; the stories that were deemed too unimportant to record, but the memory of them live on in the people who may have once had a frayed thread to the wider story. Now granted, I am not a ghost hunter, nor am I one who likes to troll these spaces in the dead of night. No. I find that they are just as freaky in the broad light of day. It may be just the flicker of shadow or color that resides in the corner of the eye, but you cannot convince me that nighttime is the only time ghosts and other entities exist or have the ability to reach out to the living side of this world. In reality, I’m the biggest scaredy cat ever.

I had passed by the forgotten cemetery way out on County Road 15 somewhere in middle Michigan two years prior when I was on a solo Spring Break road trip up on the Upper Peninsula. I had taken a few photographs with my phone of the little, closed up church and the cemetery grounds that lay across the street. While the church was surrounded by barren crop fields, the graveyard was encased in ancient, scraggly pine trees with a smattering of old oaks on three sides, as if the farmers did not dare encroach on the hallowed ground. Honestly, I had forgotten about the scrap of space until I was clearing out downloaded trip photo files on my laptop back in August.

I had found myself needing to return to the desolate grounds. My fingers ghosted across the ragged scar on my forearm that seemed to throb as I looked over the pictures. The church was that typical Midwest narrow, white structure with a steep roofline and high steeple that housed a large bell to call the farmers in for services. The weathered wooden siding needed some love and the once lush stained glass that was housed in the window casings needed attention. There were heavy locks on the doors and an old air feel to the overgrown dirt parking lot that indicated that it was no longer utilized for a spot of worship. A voice buried deep in my brain, whispered a longing to stand in the seemingly forgotten grounds of the dead. There was a drive to be amidst the weather and time eroded blocks of memories of lives that needed to stay in the distant past.

One headstone in particular had snagged my attention that day. It was truly ancient, caked in mold and dirt, the top was decayed from centuries of exposure. However, someone had attempted to keep the stone sealed with a heavy lacquer. Unlike the other antiquated monuments where the lettering was faded or completely eroded, the carved letters appeared fresh, despite the overall condition of the stormy colored granite. It was strange. No surname, just a formal name. No dates. No inscription that identified the life it memorialized. Jacob. I had felt strange when I had snapped the last bit of pixels and turned my back to the sullen treeline. My foot wobbled on the path and I tumbled down, catching my forearm and tearing open my arm in the most nasty manner. The wound healed, leaving a gnarly scar behind that had been forgotten. That was until I tripped once more across the pictures of the graveyard.

There were four weeks in October that had very few items on the calendar. I convinced my publisher and dear editor, Vinny, that I needed to return to that mid Michigan town for the sake of research. Vin was receptive. The publisher not so much. My deadline was looming and they wanted something - some manner of work that I could show to prove that I had not fallen down another hole of … Nope. Never you mind about that. I have three books under my belt and I’m only thirty three. It’s not like I’m experiencing a block or anything. A bit distracted is a good way to explain the situation. I had packed my bag, booked a room in a tiny roadside hotel and headed out from Ypsilanti with the full intention of finding the central character to my next novel, and perhaps the scrap of story that could help me get over this dry spell.

The trees were whispering with color, not the full show of Autumn yet, but it was already swirling with crispy air and chilly skies when I arrived in Frankenmuth. Oktoberfest banners were plastered across the touristy town. I found the little hotel and checked in, all the while being cordial and warm the best way I knew how. The lady behind the desk gave me recommendations for the best coffee shop and diner to visit that the locals kept secret for the most part. I smiled like she had given me insider information.

The suite was cozy with a lovely quilt across a queen sized bed, an office space and little kitchen. It would be fine for a home for an initial two weeks. I spent the better part of my first hour setting up my laptop and stack of empty notebooks, favorite pens… I had a method that was not to be trifled with. It was evening, and the sun was on the horizon when I decided to find food and make a plan for my first official day of research.

I drove through a fast food place for a sandwich and drink then proceeded to drive around the town, finding it a bit larger than what my memory had remembered. I cruised past the huge Christmas store, and through the downtown area, getting a lay of the land. I found the little coffee place and the diner that the lady at the motel had said to visit, as well as the city hall and library. I fought the urge to drive north of town to the church and graveyard. It was growing dark, and knowing me and the fact that I can get lost trying to get out of a paper bag, I opted to return to the hotel and call it a night.

Sort of.

I set up my coffee pot in the kitchenette and filled the room with the scent of chai. A smile bit at my mouth as I settled in at the desk with the local history of Saginaw county. I scrolled through a few minutes worth on the state site before I tripped over a local historical page on Frankenmuth. I had no direction as of yet, so all this reading really was moot. Just as I was getting comfy in the not-so-comfy office chair, my phone illuminated with Owen’s picture. I debated for a second, knowing that the fucker was in Rome and probably was salivating to rub it in.

“Hey, baby sister,” he said as I answered.

He sounded way too happy and the music in the background drowned out his light hearted voice. I tried to ask how he was doing, but he was pretty much shouting over me.

“Have you been paying attention to my texts at all?” he jabbered, his words spilling out fast.

“I’ve been objectively staying distant,” I remarked as I kicked my feet up on the table.

He let out a laugh that was instantly joined by a frilly little trill. “Come on, you’re missing all the fun we’re having.”

Ah. There it was. He had company when he hadn’t left with company. I grinned and waited for their hushed conversation to turn back to me.

“Talked with Gran earlier,” he said, his breath heavy with movement. “She said you’re in fucking Frankenmuth?”

“Yeah, research,” I said, picking at a flaw in my pants.

“Why there? It’s like milk toast and beer,” he replied just as a woman’s laugh carried across the line.

“We’ll see. Just something here is all.”

“Shit, Y/n,” he said, his tone light. “If there’s something weird about a tourist trap, you’ll find it.”

“You bet I will.”

He talked at me for another fourteen minutes while I scrolled through local county history, moreso looking at archived pictures than reading. We ran through our typical litany: check in with Gran, make sure we pay attention to each other, and actually answer a text every now and then. That last one was on me. I get it. We lost Mom and Dad when we were really young. Grandma and Grandpa raised us in Ypsilanti. After Grandpa passed, I didn’t have the heart to leave. I may have lived on the opposite side of town, but I didn’t have the heart to leave completely. Owen was a freelance photographer, and a damn fine one at that. He had built a solid reputation traveling with bands and artists and other clients around the world. But Ypsilanti was home to him still as well. We always returned home to Grandma.

There was a pause and it sounded like he was stressed. I sat up in the chair with an awful squeak as I listened to his companion speaking.

“Hey, Owen?” I asked, trying to keep my voice free of tension and failing.

“It’s all right, little sister,” he sighed. “I gotta go. It’s an early morning shoot and a few of the permits weren’t filed properly. Talk soon?”

We said our hurried goodbyes, but included a heartfelt ‘love you’. There was never an end of conversation without that phrase. It was a shared scar from losing the parents that remained. We could be angry with each other, but we always parted with a ‘love you’ for fear of never seeing the other again. It had happened. Wouldn’t happen again - not in our family.

Tea savored and some soft music in the background, I tucked in to read a bit. I caught up on the socials, and called Gran to say goodnight. We shared a giggle and a promise to say goodnight tomorrow. There had been rain through the night. I woke at some point, light shimmering in the fringes of my sight and my stomach sloshing around. I tried to breathe through the pain that lurked there, refusing to give in to another migraine. There was a moment where I was unsure if I should move to get my meds, or dash to the bathroom to empty my stomach. So, instead, I drifted through that wasteland between conscious thought and dream. It felt like hours that I lingered in that state. The warmth of the quilt and the softness of the pillows did little to tug me deeper. I felt my lashes tickle my skin but never did they fully close.

At the three o’clock mark, I felt a chill course through my flesh. The pain was mostly gone, thankfully adverted, and simmered at a dull roar. I took in as much air as I could and slowly counted it away from my body with a soft count. I felt gray around my edges. It was a dogged malaise that haunted me for nearly two years. The migraines had increased, robbing me of days at a time. They ate my creativity and stole my will to even move. Owen and Gran were more than concerned, but when your doctor says it’s ‘just’ migraines, what is one supposed to do?

Sleep finally came; the welcomed stranger that it had been as of late laid its hands upon my brain and allowed me to be still. I woke after only a few hours, but it was enough. I lay there for more than a few beats, just listening to the world around me, my breath keeping time like a metronome. The ghost of a touch brushed itself against my shoulder. I pictured many of my characters of the past, but none fit. This was a touch that whispered of forbidden love. The striking heat was full of longing and desire and barriers. It was a shimmer of inspiration that blazed and was gone as I slipped from the snug bed.

The diner was my first stop. It was beyond crowded, but the kind waitress found me a two-top in the far corner, nestled amongst the local art and news clippings of important events. I sipped my coffee, taking in glorified high school sports from decades past, and yellowed pictures of smiling faces of long forgotten achievements. Breakfast completed, I found myself in the car heading out to Old County Highway 15. The sky was a startling shade of blue with little swirls of clouds, as if framing the lovely shades of orange, yellow and red that were gaining momentum. The church and cemetery came into view along the long stretch of straight, rolling road. My heart quickened its beat the closer I got.

I sat, parked on the side of the road, hands on the steering wheel. There was a stab in my belly that I initially identified as anxiety. But that’s not what it was. I couldn’t understand this emotion as it needled me. Instead of listening to it, I grabbed my camera, notebook and pen, and my phone, braving the wind as it swept in from the distance in waves of sharp gusts. If there was no wind, the day would actually be warm. I rolled my eyes at myself over the old feel of my thoughts. Obviously, I was suffering from too much influence from Gran. I moved towards the overgrown lawn of the church first. There were signs that it had been mowed, not often, but certainly taken care of a few times a year. I stood way back and snapped a few pictures of the stained glass on the east side of the building. I walked up and took note of the tiny etched metal placards that held names. I took a picture of each one, recording the surnames of those long since passed who had worshiped upon this ground. I repeated the process on the other side.

Pausing a moment, I looked down at my camera screen to make sure the names on the placards were clear for later research, when movement across the street caught my attention. It was no more than a shadow of tree limbs, surely, but my spine was telling me that it was a form that was clearly moving in a very non-tree-like manner. I raised my camera and took a few pictures, first of a wide angle to make sure I got in the whole range of the grounds, but then a few of the older side of the cemetery. The sight of the Jacob stone made my skin quiver with curiosity.

I crossed the street without actually looking for cars. Dangerous - not really. The only sound was that of the trees creaking and shivering in the breeze. I wondered what constituted a traffic event on such a desolate stretch of road. Perhaps my singular parking was the highlight of the day. Pausing to really look at the wrought iron, taking note of the patches of exposed rust, the fencing was actually quite beautiful for such a rural setting. Odd. The latch moved easily, betraying the care that had obviously been taken to maintain the gate had been recent. The hinges hissed a high pitched screech, but it was more like an old person getting up - once they got moving, they quieted.

My eyes skated to the Jacob stone once more, but I turned east, away from the point of interest. The small lobe was dotted with headstones marked with more recent years. My steps were measured and slow, taking in the years as close as 2017. The church may have not been used for some time, but the cemetery was still visited, and was still utilized by those of the living. The corner of my mouth tugged at the notion that the grounds were not completely forgotten.

With resolve, I turned to the much larger western stretch, but again, strayed away from the Jacob stone. I worked my way back towards the gate, finding a truly ancient stone that held a ghostly 1847 with all the other lettering eroded from its surface. The idea that this was hallowed ground for nearly two hundred years chilled me. I paused as my brain scolded me for not looking for the memorial plaque that surely would give information about the church and graveyard. I scanned the fence line, feeling like an idiot that I walked right past it. Thankfully no eyes were there to see me bumble back out the gate to feast upon the information, I took in that the church was The Church of the Redeemer, founded in 1850, although the cemetery had been consecrated well before that, with burials taking place prior to 1800. I took a picture of the information before returning to my grim browsing.

The wind began to whip through the top of the pines, creating a jaw clenching sensation swim through my guts and shiver across my flesh. I took in the formal names of James and Myrtle, William and Gertrude matching the surnames that I had seen on the stained glass on the church walls. I stooped to touch a few of the smaller stones, brushing back the soot of time, to be rewarded with dates that tickled the late 1700’s. All the while, my gaze strayed to the Jacob stone despite my need to pay attention to the spectral memories of those whose graves I lingered across.

My head tilted as I once again looked to the Jacob stone, catching how each letter of name looked to be carved by a different hand. I frowned as I returned to the stones close to the gate, careful in my footing as the ground buckled and bucked against its inhabitants. The overall condition of the headstone matched that of the first stone that bore 1847, but somehow, it felt older, despite, or perhaps because of the thick lacquer that appeared to be poured over it. The 1847 stone faced the same direction - north - as the Jacob stone. It was not as tall, but the weathering would be similar, wouldn’t it? It was interesting that the letters of Jacob appeared to be freshly scored in the stormy granite. Surely, someone was maintaining the marker, but why do that to the letters of the man’s name? Making each one different. Even the carving styles were distinct in how the letter was crafted. I snapped a few pictures before I proceeded to my target. I finally approached the grave, as if it beckoned me like a long lost… Stop. Stupid brain getting all weird, just ignore that, yeah?

The thought that each letter signified a different era struck hard as I reached out to touch the apparent flaw in the ‘A’. I scratched the thought down in my notebook. A grimace perched itself on my mouth as if accusing me of being an idiot at that moment. The scent of water wafted past my nose as I traced a finger across the name as a whole. Odd. My heart thudded thickly as I followed the cap of the ‘B’ back to the ‘J’. What was this sensation that bound itself across my chest with such… strength? Confusion touched my thoughts as I pulled my hand away. The smell of water - the smell of big water like a lake - wafted into my nostrils once more as I lifted my camera to take a few more pictures. Rationally, none of what was before me, around me, made sense. I took a step back and a sense of longing the likes I had never felt before attacked every cell of my frame. I fought for breath. My stomach pinched in anger for no reason. It was as if my life shattered without cause.

“Fuck,” I sighed as I leaned on the back of a bench that rested at the edge of the main path.

There had only been one time where that level of dread had struck - when I was told Mom and Dad were never returning to us. But somehow, this pain was deeper. It was even more painful of a sensation than that day. On the verge of sobbing, I glanced back at the stone as if that had been the source of all my woe. A shimmer of linen and a lock of chestnut seemed to peek out from the edge of the monument to disappear around the back. My feet stumbled forward. I caught myself before I could fall over. With my heart pounding sickly, and my throat closing on a yelp, I managed to move with a shred of grace towards the gate in a hurried retreat. Before I pushed my way out, I lifted my camera once more and turned back to the Jacob stone. Nothing. There was nothing there. No shadow. No sound. Even the breeze had grown gentle. I snapped a few last pictures.

Unsettled, I nearly fell across the threshold of the gate and rushed to latch it behind me. I ran across the broken asphalt of the road and hopped into the waiting driver’s seat. I discarded my camera, phone and notebook into the passenger seat before cranking over the engine. I paused before locking the doors. As if that would stop anything that lingered in the air. My eyes strayed to the headstone once more, strained in an attempt to see anything that was clearly not of this world. A profile of a man’s face was unmistakable, peering out from beyond the back of the headstone. The skin was translucent, the hair danced around like it was caught in a wind. For a moment, it turned towards me as if seeking me out over his nonexistent shoulder.

“Nope,” I gulped as I slammed my foot to the gas pedal and took off like a shot down the long, straight road.

I was all the way back to town and in my room before I could feel my skin start to slow from crawling. The hair on my head felt like it was full of static from the swirl of thoughts. Was the apparition that I saw Jacob? My hands shook as I took a long, slow drink of water. Whatever I had seen out there may not have realized my presence. Or if it did, was it playing coy? Shaking out my hands before reaching for the camera, I found I needed just a few more breaths before plugging it into the laptop.

“Fuuuuuuuck… Do I really want to do this?” I asked myself, outloud.

I opened up a music app and found my soothing playlist to start before I flipped the cover of my notebook to look once more at the stray thoughts that I had recorded. I reached for my pen and added a fuller note beneath my initial observation.

The name was clearly not carved by either the same hand for each letter, or it was not fully carved by the same hand in the same ‘era’. Each letter of Jacob seems different, not belonging to the name as a whole -whatever the fuck that means.

I dropped the pen with a disgusted huff before I turned my eyes to the screen before me. The warmth of my skin evaporated immediately at the sight of the first picture - it’s of a wide shot of the headstone and it was completely hazy. My lips pursed as I moved to the next one, where I knew I was zoomed in on the carving to capture the detail. And it was the same damn thing - it wasn’t just hazy, but pixelated. I scrolled through and sure as shit, every shot of the Jacob stone was the same - totally unreadable.

“What the literal fuck,” I whispered, as my eyes hardened on the mess I somehow made of the most unnerving morning. “Okay, go back to the beginning.”

I closed it out and opened the file that would bring out all the day’s photographs. I started with the first one I took of the church and it was fine. All the names that I recorded of the stained glass were also fine. The first headstones of the cemetery were fine. I gritted my teeth with frustration as I scrolled to the first wide shot of the grounds. The gate and subsequent fencing, the headstones in the foreground were fine. It seemed almost like someone was smudging the picture around the Jacob stone only. I was so focused on the screen, my nose was practically touching it when I realized there was something at the edge of the treeline…

“What the hell?” I whispered as I tried to zoom in.

My mouth hung open at the sight of that same man whose profile I had seen looking over the edge of the stone earlier, but this time, it was nearly the entire face that was captured - and it was on film. I could see the tree limbs through the spectral face, but it was a face with a sharp jawline and high cheekbones, round cheeks and a point to the nose that rested above a full set of lips. The brow was furrowed and eyes were almost… angered?

I felt like my chest was caught in a vice as I continued to stare. This was not a human. This was not anything close to human. And yet, my stupid brain was screaming at me like he was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. The confusion wrapped me up as I panned back out on the picture to look at it once more as a whole. My eyes remained glued to the foggy patch where the creature’s face resided.

I brought up the next picture, and there it was again, this time, not just the face, but the upper torso was revealed. He was strong, as evidence his chest peeked out, and he seemed broader than I would’ve expected. I moved to the first of the seriously blurred pictures, allowing my eyes to remain right where the apparition had been in each of the previous frames.

My hold on the moment was already fragile but the longer I remained frozen to that spot, my vision of what was in the frame became clearer. It was the full outline of a masculine figure from the top of his head to the bottom of his foot. My jaw slackened and my stomach churned. The apparition could only be Jacob - whoever that might have been, I was looking at what he was in the ‘now’. My body oozed back into the stiff chair and my feet tingled as my weight shifted. My logical mind did not want to accept what the picture was depicting. I knew I was alone. I knew there was no one remotely close to that cemetery that could have accidentally “photobombed” the scene. And yet. There he was. He looked to be seeking out something. He looked to be seeking the answer to a puzzle.

“Damn.”

The word slithered out from between my lips like it was the most important thing possible. I glanced down at the time and realized that I could run for lunch and possibly have time in the library to round out my afternoon. My eyes strayed to the man in the photo once more. The corner of my mouth tugged a bit before I reached for my keys.

I grabbed a sandwich from the local deli and followed the directions to the library from my map app. I delved into my ham and cheese in the parking lot of the library, my eyes skating across the grounds of the park that lay just beyond the tidy brick building. I was instantly wrapped in the smell of paper and books and all things wonderful as soon as I walked through the narrow foyer and into the library proper. There was a kind, round face that greeted me from the circulation desk.

“Local and regional section?” I asked with a shy smile.

Instead of just pointing me in the direction, the soft looking woman emerged from behind the counter with a huge smile and bubbly conversation. By the time we arrived in the back corner that was decorated in local art and what appeared to be hand turned bookcases, she knew that I was a writer and that I was researching for a character. She started pulling all sorts of books out that I may find the little church in the country in, that included platt books, local history, and the best part, she disappeared for nearly ten minutes only to reappear with a narrow flat bed cart with three volumes of bound newspapers.

“We have these going back to when the paper got its start,” she huffed as she maneuvered the volumes up onto the table beside me. “I’m talking way back. But this will get you through the last seventy five years.”

My eyes must’ve been sparkling something fierce as the woman snickered at my reaction. “These are perfect. I will be sure to find something I can use for sure.”

“Oh good. I was afraid I was going to overwhelm you,” she remarked with a wave of her chubby hand. “We still have the old microfiche readers in the basement, but I find going through the actual papers gives things a bit more oomph.”

“Absolutely,” I gushed, dragging my fingers across the shiny gold lettering.

She let me be with an offer of more help when I was ready before she made her return to her desk. I fished in my backpack for my earbuds, notebook, and laptop and settled in to immersing myself in the information before me. At first, it was like walking across a highly polished sheet of ice. My eyes were skating over words of little import and my brain was begging me to stop with such mundane events. Business openings. Business closings. School events. Football games. Dances. Graduations. Spelling bees. Concerts. Festivals. Court news. Fires. Arrests. Storms. Tornadoes. Weddings. Obituaries. Births. My neck was screaming at me as I sat back in my hard chair with a sigh. I needed to take a break from the newspapers. I shifted my playlist to something heavier and moved my attention over to regional history in the few hefty, leather bound books that had taken up the corner of the table.

Flipping the cover back, I bypassed the meager table of contents and moved towards the index in the back, figuring to look for churches first. Sure enough, there it was, beneath my fingertips - the little forgotten country church out on 15. The Church of the Redeemer Catholic Church was founded in 1850, giving service to the surrounding farms that would go on to make up the future township of Frankenmuth. The strip of land that the cemetery was located had been used for many years prior to the founding of the township, being used by trappers and their families for much longer, but the date was not disclosed. The series of photographs of the church had to have been taken at the turn of the 1900’s, with updates from the ‘40’s, 60’s, and the most modern was no later than the early ‘90’s. I flipped to check the imprint of the book and I was correct - it was published in 1994.

My fingers were tapping against the few pictures of the actual cemetery, as I began repeating the names I knew were on the stones with each tap of my finger. Biting the inside of my cheek, I reached into my backpack for Grandpa’s trusty magnifying glass. It was the only thing Grandpa treasured as much as Grandma. She bestowed it to me since I was the only one of the grandchildren who she trusted to care for it as well as her husband had during his lifetime. I passed the thick glass across the pictures, straining in my search for the Jacob stone. Like the wide shots of my own pictures, the location of the headstone was all blurred and smudged.

I pushed out a breath before I turned back to the newspapers. At least I know the church was still in operation in the 1990’s. I disregarded the top volume of newspapers, setting it on the table behind me, opting to peruse the volume that held 1975 - 1999. Honestly, I had no clue what I was actually looking for, but as I flipped through the pages I felt a pull like I was on the right path somehow.

“How are you doing back here?” the librarian asked as she stopped at my side.

“It’s all interesting,” I said quietly with a smile and a glance over to her. “So much information, but interesting.”

“Oh, that’s the Redeemer you’re looking at there,” she remarked as she reached for the open book with the pictures of the church.

“Yeah. Full disclosure - it's what brought me here actually. I was heading home from up north when I saw it,” I explained. “I don’t know what it is, but there are some really interesting headstones.”

She licked at her lips before setting a book - my book - down on top of the newspapers. “For research, right?”

I picked up my novel with a laugh. “Wow. You’re trouble.”

“Naw, just aware of all of our authors that belong to the state,” she said, a faint blush on her face. “We have all three of your titles, by the way. They do very well in circulation.”

“Nice,” I said before handing her back the clearly lightly read tome. “And yes, it’s research. I may have a story to tell if I find something here. But… can we…?

“Lips are sealed, of course,” she beamed with a hand over her heart. “I do need to tell you that the library will be closing in an hour.”

I put every ounce of disappointment into my eyes as I nodded away. “I see. I know these books cannot leave the library…”

“Nope, but I’ll tell you what I can do - we can leave everything right here. We’ll make this your workstation,” she offered kindly.

“That is amazing,” I oozed as I placed a hand on her arm. “I would really appreciate it.”

I watched as she nearly floated back to her desk with a wave. In the meantime, I could feel it… The pounding behind my eyes. I knew I was pushing it just a bit on the day. I knew I probably should have laid down instead of continuing on to the library. I stretched my neck and told myself I can last a little while longer.

I was somewhere in the summer of 1984 when I landed on an article about a musician from the area that had made his way onto the stage in Detroit. The picture above the article was grainy but… My brain literally froze at the sight. The black and white image sizzled into my eyes like a beacon. I rushed to the picture folder on the laptop and brought up the one of the near full face and nearly screamed from the likeness.

Before me was Jacob. He had been real once. A guitar player for some rock band that was doing well within the local scene. I scanned the article and my stomach was swirling as I learned that the band was getting some serious notice from heavyweights and were in the process of cutting an album. I glanced back at the busy circulation desk before reaching for my phone to snap a few pictures of the article and picture.

With my head screaming, I packed up my backpack and straightened up the table. I left with a whispered thank you to the librarian and made my very quick exit. I started to feel the waves of nausea echoing through my gullet as I made my way out of the parking lot and easily made my way back to the hotel. I made it into the room just as the blinding pain started. I skipped turning on the lights and struggled out of my shoes before landing into the bed. This was a routine that I had down pat for the past two years. Migraines really were a bitch. I knew I had pushed it too far and now I was going to have to survive the consequences of those actions.

Pulsing lights jabbed behind my eyes. I slowed my breathing down, counting to five in between each time I took in air or blew it away. I felt my toes getting heavy, followed by my legs. The best I could do was sleep it off. It was too late to take meds. I pictured the man in the cemetery. The subtle cleft of his chin and the point of his nose soothed me. The sharp ridge of his cheek and the shadow of his eyes were haunting. If this man had been alive he would be beautiful. I had to pause the thoughts as I waited to see if I needed to book it to the toilet to throw up. Instead, I lulled, my mind adrift in the blackness of the room and the ghost in my thoughts…

⭒☾ The absolute exuberance of a child pumped through my veins as I ran across the solid earth. I knew every turn and hole of the land, so I ran with a confidence that could only be gained through youthful sureness. The cream colored linen of my dress billowed around me and seemed to dance with my laughter. I caught sight of my hands and knew that I was indeed locked in the form of a young girl. The field I was dashing across was vast and full of untouched tall grasses and locks of wildflowers. The sky was heavy with bright white wisps of clouds and crisp Springtime breezes.

A blink of my eye and I knew I was older. Not running, but still traversing across the ground of this foreign space I had no idea where it resided. Happiness touched me still as I looked over my shoulder to see a woman in a much heavier dress trying to keep up. I laughed as I did turn and run as she called out to me to wait. The near black waters of the lake spread out before me as I finally stopped on the edge of the ground before it fell away to the storm beaten rocks below. I held my arms up to feel the wind across my whole body and was instantly scolded for being so ‘wild’.

Another blink and I was standing upon a beachhead littered with tiny wooden shanties. There was a desperation that lingered in between the structures where children wandered and played while women applied their few trades to gain coin to keep those bellies fed. There was a heaviness here that I didn’t like. Once more, the woman was with me, scolding me for stopping her in our task. Her sour expression only stirred my emotions. I snatched the purse at her side and proceeded to the open air market with her right on my heels. I must’ve been no more than fourteen, but she did not pursue me like a thief. She protested as I stopped before the man who sold bread. I pointed at the largest of his baskets that was brimming with food. I handed the whole purse over and started to lug the basket away.

The children on the beach took notice of me as I struggled through the sand. I stopped and untied the ribbons on my shoes, leaving them behind as I moved much more swiftly barefooted. I started to knock on the doors of the shanties, one by one and handed each a loaf of bread. The woman was standing with her arms crossed as if she were angry but I waved her down to help me. These people were hungry and I had at least a few scraps to aid them through their day. It was a happiness that filled me to the brim and continued to flow over.

Another blink and I was alone in a grand bedroom filled with fine fabrics and rugs and a bed that would hold the likes of many sleepers. It felt wrong to have such lavishness when there was such blatant need only moments from my door. There was wealth here that could help the poor for many years. The woman from the market was brushing my hair, her voice speaking foreign words I did not understand, but the tone was certainly scolding me for my actions. I walked from the dressing table to the narrow balcony, leaving the chilly air to infiltrate the room behind me as I leaned against the elaborate railing. The moon was full, splashing down upon the waters of Le Lac Superior. The ships and their great white sails seem to play across the dark current of the black night waters. I realized this was home. Home from forever ago… ⭒☾

Dreams play a big role in our story, probably more than they should. How did you like the official chapter one? Let me know! I will be posting every Thursday - you can find a sign up for my tag list here. 💚💚See you next Thursday!

@edgingthedarkness @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @katuschka @thewritingbeforesunrise @ignite-my-fire @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @demonrat444 @klarxtr @peaceloveunitygvf @hollyco @lipstickitty @joshym @itsafullmoon @josh-iamyour-mama @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @way-to-go-lad @jjwasneverhere @gretavangroupie @emojakekiszka @wetkleenex-gvf @vanfleeter @losfacedevil @myownparadise96 @lizzys-sunflower @literal-dead-leaf

#jake kiszka #jake gvf #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fan fiction #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fic au #jake kiszka fan fic au #jake kiszka fan fiction au #the dead

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eyesmadeofpearls · 1 month

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Since it's not 2020-21 anymore i feel there's one thing i have to say to you all (Prepare for a yap session, and please remember that just because something isn't canon doesn't mean you cant ship it! please, continue to ship as i don't think anyone has a problem with it! :) This is just for people who seriously believe that any of its going to be put into the show and have went as far as harassing horikoshi, so if you find yourself getting angry with my words, then you've probably got a guilty conscious)

The bakudeku shippers who harassed the author and put him under social pressure have completely ruined the series. 🤗

Saying that he "doesn't understand English so he can't be affected by what fans say 🥺" is extremely rude and sooo fucking annoying of you. Of course bro knows English, he kind of has to?? To further my point i think it's pretty well known that the people of Japan are very particular about how others perceive them, they definitely care more than Americans do, that's for sure. To add onto my point above, the social culture over there is extremely lawful and strict, so stepping out of the norm can be scary. Crossing that unspoken line has created problems for people in the past and it's why there's a huge mental health epidemic over there. If you can imagine a handful of people over there harming themselves and becoming shut ins because of that pressure from people in their country, then imagine being a huge artist and show maker in that situation. Except.. It's not just half of Japan who's got their eye on him anymore, it's half of America too now. That is more than 'just' pressure especially when you know how die hard fans can really be.

I firmly believe that in his case he opted not to make any ships canon because he didn't want to anger bakudeku shippers. All of his official art both out of his work career (drawing just for fun) and in his work career (the manga and show) have been set up to ship uraraka and izuku. People seem to have forgotten that although a majority of the show watchers from America are teen girls like me, this show is for teen boys living in Japan because it's shonen. In japan it's also more socially acceptable to be straight and that's why it took so long for gay marriage to be legalized. So no, i don't believe that the horikoshi would be making a boy love anime and manga about teenage heroes in training. Notice how the plot doesn't focus on who he's in love with but it's been very clear he has a crush on uraraka? Yeah, that's what Shonen is. It's more plot than inner life things. It's like dragon ball z. Yeah, goku's got a love interest but guys aren't worried about that. Still, it's cool to see he's got a girlfriend since that's what's inspiring to teen boys i guess. I also dislike fans treatment of "feminine" acting guys. Midoriya isn't feminine, you're just an American and so am i, but at least i know that the way they raise boys over there vs here is wildly different. Our boys are quite frankly super disrespectful, loud, and ignorant as teens. The boys over there have to be respectful, they have to follow the rules, they can't afford to be loud, and their main focus is on being an adult and getting a job. Though i guess their parents strictness no matter how hard they try doesn't stop them from being rowdy after school. It's nothing compared to how guys over here are rowdy though. Because guys over there don't sit in the back of your class making fake moaning noises or begin to flip tables and scream loudly. Think of Midoriya like spiderman, he's just easily flustered, kind, and respectful but not "feminine" or gay.

Also, telling fans they watched the show with their eyes closed just because we acknowledged midoriya wouldn't get with his bully and rival is crazy work.. "He apologized!!'' if a murderer apologized, would you forgive them?? Yeah, he apologized and changed, but that doesn't mean its all okay now. Bro literally told him to jump off a roof, burned the notebook he values the most, and then proceeded to throw it in the water causing all of his time and effort to be practically useless. Not to mention he beat him to the point of real injuries and continued to be a right dick even after "apologizing". (An apology means nothing if you don't actually try to change and be a better person.) And no, insulting someone on purpose isn't romance worthy material. Unless you specify you're joking then you have brain damage for thinking anyone in their right mind would date someone who constantly calls them a nutsack face, an idiot, a dumbass, a loser, pathetic, a nerd, and genuinely believes that you should be below them in every way unless they've got a twisted degrading kink. And also, sacrificing himself for Midoriya is just plot. Everyone at one point has sacrificed themselves for him because he's the main character, the entire point of them trying to fight for him before he does anything is to weaken the enemies so that Midoriya can go in and finish them off after they beat the villains to near death. They all work towards protecting his future and upping his chances to defeat their common enemy and the man who raised villain motivation by creating more of them. (AFO) So yeah, no, it's not romantical at all that Bakugo wants to be heroic and give the only person who can defeat AFO a fighting chance. Midoriya has gotten hurt trying to protect everyone, uraraka included. But now that you know this would you say to my face that he's got feelings for her too? Or all of his friends? No, you wouldn't. Because that's just what a hero does.

Him and uraraka were meant to be a slow build up, people keep saying "well he always blushes!" yeah, but never at other men. It's been only women who can make his face entirely red like that. In japan, anime uses blush for multiple reasons, so you need to learn to read context on why they're blushing and the room.. Shock, a feeling of content, happiness, embarrassment, and romantical feelings can all contribute to blushing. If a guy were to put him in a headlock and bring him close to their chest, he wouldn't blush.. If a girl did it, his entire face would become pink. To clear up the blushing accusations, he blushed at tsu because she asked him to put her down since she was embarrassed, and he got embarrassed too because she didn't want to be held and felt bad for making her feel that way after realizing the implications of the way he held her. He blushed at hatsume because her literal chest was in his face, on top of him. That's called shock and embarrassment which is something you'd feel if a random pretty lady landed on you chest first. The other times with hatsume he never blushes again like he did and they return to speaking terms other than that one time she held his waist but that's for the same reasons as before. Uraraka however has managed to get him to blush with a full face without even doing anything. He called her cute, he said he liked her hair, her outfit, and he's always got to be standing next to her in every official art piece. Tell me when he's ever said anything like that about a man other than "he's so cool"?

Remember that in Japan love is a touchy subject, you're expected to focus on your future first so that you can have all that you need to settle down. A lot of people don't even say i love you until marriage over there, so it's not odd that Midoriya isn't as open about his feelings unlike uraraka. I think it's just common everywhere for guys to not be the first ones to say anything.. When i met a lot of my exes i was always the one to say i love you first and to initiate things, and i think that's just because it makes guys feel better knowing that they're being chased for some reason or it could hurt their social reputation with their friends who'd probably tease them about it. But anyways, when you pay attention to the way they act near each other, things tend to fall in place. Your actions will always speak louder than your words.

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pocketseizure · 12 days

Note

Some of the stuff from the TotK Master Works would have been so great for the game that either Nintendo is struggling to understand what its fans want and cut a ton of stuff that fans craved, or some of this art was created specifically for TotK Master Works and isn't true concept art. Stuff on the cutting room floor is often tantalizing, but some of this seems too perfect for a game with a full development cycle. (Here's a rhetorical question) Seriously, why was some of this stuff cut?

I think that perhaps what you and I might call “nuanced writing” or even “intriguing worldbuilding” isn’t a concern for most people who play Zelda games. This is nothing more than my own impression, of course, but I get the sense that the vast majority of series fans care about one of two things: gameplay mechanics, or being able to see conventionally attractive young people have a happy ending.

I don’t have an uncle who works at Nintendo, so I don’t have any special insight into the company’s decisions, but I’d assume the devs were aware they’d be competing with Final Fantasy XVI and Elden Ring. If I had to guess, I’d say that the decision to tone down the initial “dark fantasy” elements of Tears of the Kingdom was based on practical issues related to marketing. Instead of trying to beat FromSoft and Squaresoft at their own game, I think the Zelda devs wanted to appeal to the core audience of the series, and they considered that core audience to be professional gaming journalists obsessed with unique gameplay mechanics and creative influencers on social media who ship Zelda/Link.

Accordingly, I think the bulk of the artbook accurately reflects the primary concerns of the developers. There’s page after page of visual references for Link’s outfits and weapons, as well as sparsely annotated concept art for the temples and shrines. I’m still working my way through the 100+ pages of text at the end of the book, but most of what I’ve encountered so far is a basic summary of what we see in the game. In terms of the more “shocking” revelations, such as Sonia and Rauru having children, I can understand why these elements were cut for the sake of streamlining an already bloated product.

At the same time, I agree with your assessment that Nintendo seems to be struggling to understand what its fans want, and I think this is part of the reason why Tears of the Kingdom was awarded a slew of near-perfect reviews from gaming websites but then more or less forgotten by the broader culture.

#Tears of the Kingdom #Zelda speculation #asks #I think the pandemic probably also caused a course change #I mean who knows #but that would make sense

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writingbirdy · 4 months

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You and me against the world sal fisher x f!reader

[Sorry for not uploading been sick and now exams have started😅. Also, this is set in modern-day ] (f/n)= female name

It had been a few months since you and the gang all went to college...

Sadly you didn't stay together. Sal and Larry went to a local college, Todd went to a college in another city and Ash went to an art college. Here you were stuck working as you couldn't afford to go into debt and weren't able to get a scholarship.

It was a slow day at the gas station not many people bought anything except for gas... but hey at least after these next two paychecks you can finally do online classes and still have money left over! But even that didn't distract you from not having your friends around with all of them in college you started to wonder if they had forgotten about you... You had seen from Ashley's Instagram that they had all recently gotten together for a hangout. I broke your heart when you realised you weren't invited but not surprised. You had always struggled to be a part of the group, they were your friends but you were not as close as they all were with each other. Just as you went to check your phone the doors beeped indicating that someone was there. "Great just when I thought I could take my break..." you thought putting on your happy service employee smile. "Hello, how may I help you today?" You said in a cheerful tone. "I'd just like to pay for gas. Thanks" the man said as he held up his card ready to pay. "Of course what pump were you at?" "Pump 2" After that you pulled up the cost and he paid. "Hey, have we met before you seem familiar?" He said looking at you.

It was true you looked different from high school.

[This is the look minus the head piece]

Your hair was longer and your style had changed and truth be told the man standing in front of you was non other that Sal fisher. You were a bit upset he didn't recognise you considering you had a huge crush on him back in highschool but hey I guess you weren't truly important to him. "We probably went to high school together but I had changed since then...." you gave a small smile as he walks out the doors. After your shit had ended you noticed that Ash had tagged you in something on Instagram. Opening the app it was photos of you guys back in highschool with the caption "together in every lifetime <3". You didn't bother responding as you knew it was another empty post with no meaning. You unlocked your apartment door and went to your room and proceeded to sleep the rest of the night.

3rd person pov

Waking up to your ringtone was not something [f/n] was happy about. She answered the phone to be greeted with the sound of todd? That was new todd never rang her or even texted her after graduation.

[F/n]: "um hi todd?"

Todd: "Hello [f/n] Ashley has lost her phone so she asked me to call you" he said in a semi monotone voice

Ash: "hey todd did she pick up?"

Ash: "Oh! [f/n] I'm so glad you picked up!"

[F/n]: "it's not like I had a chose"

Ash: "well anyway how about me and you go out shopping in two hours!"

All [f/n] could think of is why now was she asking her to hang out? Also it's still the second semester of college there's not way she has time to shop before class and to make it worse [f/n] had work in half an hour.

[F/n]: sorry Ashley but I have work soon...

She didn't wait for a response and hung up the phone and deleted Todd's number.

2nd person pov

While at work sal came back into the gas station. "Excuse me but do you have any chips that aren't plain?" He asks walking up to the counter. "No sorry we've ran out" you replied ringing his items up. "Ah okay... just one last question?" "Sure..." you were already bored and your shift doesn't finish for another 4 hours.

"Is your name [f/n]?" Sal asked.

"Was it Ashley's post that helped you figure that out?" You said blankly staring at sal.

"Yeah! It's been a while since we spoke would you like to get coffee and catch up?" He stuttered out.

"Why does it sound like you're asking me out on a date?" You questioned praying it was not the answer you would never recover from......

[Hehehe cliffhanger 😈. But seriously it's almost midnight and I just want a chapter out so this can be a two parter]

#sally face #sally face fandom #travis phelps #larry johnson #ashley campbell #sal fisher #todd morrison #sally face x reader #fem reader #sally face x y/n

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jplupine · 2 months

Text

Beast of Sunagakure: Part 2

Pairing: Gaara x AFAB Reader Word Count: ~8k Date Published: July 19, 2024 WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Monster!Gaara, Exophilia, Size Difference, Feral Behavior, Underwear Stealing, Marking, Vaginal Sex, Hair Pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie, Getting Caught; Reader is AFAB but no gender is specified, Terms such as pussy/cock/etc. get used.

A/N: The art above was drawn by me! Gotta crop to make it Tumblr friendly </3 If you'd like to see the full image, you can follow the links here or read it on AO3.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Bonus You can also read it on AO3!

"Oh, this is just wonderful." Your voice was heavy with sarcasm as you threw your clothes around.

"What's wrong?" Gaara asked as he watched you from a few feet away.

"Have you seen my underwear? I left them on that rock to keep sand out of them and now they're gone!" You picked up your bag to search it just in case they had been placed inside and you had simply forgotten. Gaara shrugged before glancing toward the opening of the cave.

"The wind did pick up for a little while earlier."

"You've got to be kidding." You went to the edge of the cave and peeked outside. Your eyes scanned the sand to see if the wind had blown the garment away. If it had, you couldn't see it. You groaned in frustration before going back to your bag. "Whatever. At least I have more."

Pulling out a clean pair of underwear, you then got dressed to finish the journey home. Gaara would be returning with you as the beast to make it seem as if you had found him and were bringing him back. To make it more convincing, he was putting his shackles and muzzle on before he shape-shifted back into his cursed tanuki form.

He shook out his fur and stretched before you both headed out into the desert and went in the direction of Sunagakure. Gaara used his larger body to provide you shade from the blazing sun crawling across the sky. It was easier crossing the desert with his help and much faster.

When you could see the village in the distance, you took hold of the chain dangling from Gaara's muzzle. He huffed through his nose but followed your lead.

Nearing the village, you could hear people yelling and rushing to get out of the way when they saw Gaara coming. A few screamed, but Gaara remained behind you. You swallowed while trying to maintain a calm appearance as you walked through the village. Your grip on the chain tightened.

Best case scenario, you could get Gaara back to his cage before any elders or other village officials could interfere and have as little fuss as possible. In reality, you didn't make it far before you were stopped by the Kazekage himself standing in the middle of the road. His expression was firm as his gaze was settled on Gaara.

Panic made your heart beat faster when his eyes drifted down to you.

"You were taught to control the curse seals? I was not told anyone took you on as an apprentice."

"Um, no." You cleared your throat. "I-I found him wandering the desert on my way home. He recognized me and thought I would have food for him. Thankfully, I had a lot of provisions from my cousin's wedding to give him." You hoped talking about Gaara as if he were more like an animal would be enough to convince Rasa that you didn't know the truth about Gaara. There was a stretch of silence as you were scrutinized before the Kazekage stepped to the side.

"Come. We should have him properly fed before he gets the urge to hunt." You felt relief wash over you. "It must have been terrifying being alone with him." Rasa spoke while walking.

"Oh, yeah." You nervously laughed. "When he charged at me, I thought I was done for until he was shoving his head into my bag to get the food. The muzzle got in the way, so I had to help him." You were quick to spin your story and add details to lower suspicions.

"You're not going to ask how he escaped?"

"I wasn't sure I should. I was guessing something must've gone wrong while he was being transported because of the muzzle."

"I commend your ability to stay calm in such a situation. I'll take it from here. This is where you live, is it not?" The Kazekage stopped outside of your home, and you glanced at it before looking back at him.

"Yes, sir."

"Go. Rest. You must be exhausted." Rasa took the muzzle's chain from you only to have Gaara resist. The Kazekage looked Gaara in the eye with a silent, threatening expression.

"Thank you, Lord Kazekage." You bowed out of respect before turning to go inside. When you looked back, Rasa was dragging Gaara away.

The next time you saw Gaara was when you returned to your work duties. He looked okay as he could be, alert and with his ears perked in your direction. His bright eyes were a welcome sight compared to when he was aggressive or indifferent.

"Good morning, Gaara." You greeted him while unloading his breakfast from the bucket you carried. Judging by his behavior, you truly didn't need to worry about being attacked anymore. You got his food through the bars before taking off your gloves as Gaara came over to eat. "I don't know about you, but I could hardly get any sleep last night. I was too worried about what the Kazekage might be doing to you."

Gaara huffed and started eating.

"I'm serious!" You leaned against the bars. "I could barely bring myself to leave you alone with him. He looked pissed." Gaara's ears tilted down before he nodded, letting you know the Kazekage had indeed been very angry with him. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" He shook his head. "Good. That's a relief." You sighed.

Having Gaara finally responding to your idle chatter also felt nice. Talking to yourself before was a bit hollow.

When it came time to clean his cage, you were more comfortable being in there with him than last time. Gaara also seemed more relaxed while watching you scrub the floor. His gaze didn't feel as predatorial either.

Rattling came from behind you along with metallic scraping. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Gaara in his human form and pulling the shackles off his ankles. Your eyes widened and darted around to make sure only you two were there.

"Gaara? What are you doing?"

"I want to talk to you."

"About?"

"I want to help. Show me how to do this." Gaara guided you further away from his bed. You were immediately suspicious as he took the scrub broom from you.

"What are you hiding?" His eyes locked with yours and he looked like a caught mouse.

"What? I'm not-"

"You think I'm not used to you hiding crap in your bed? I have to change out your bedding today, so you better tell me. I swear if I find another slobbery bone-"

"You won't!" Gaara waved his hand as he blushed.

"Right." You had a dry tone before going to his bed to look.

"I'll change the bedding!" He tried to stop you, but you knew exactly where he tended to hide things among the straw. You pulled up the floral fabrics you already knew he had.

However, with the headscarves was something else you knew belonged to you but didn't know he had. Holding it up, you spun on your heel to look at Gaara who now had a bright red face.

"Gaara!" You yelled while shaking your fist clutching the garment. "Is this my underwear?!" He averted his gaze while crossing his arms. "You are a pervert! And a little liar! Wind blew them away, my ass."

"I can explain."

"Yeah. Explain why you stole my dirty underwear. Pretty sure I can guess." You then looked at the underwear you held as your brows furrowed with confusion. "Wait, how did you even steal these? You don't have any pockets." Gaara lowered his head as his jaw clenched.

"I....tucked them into one of my shackles." His ears were nearly the same shade of red as his hair.

"You didn't think this through past doing that, did you?"

"I won't argue about my actions being impulsive. They were."

"You need to learn to ask for permission instead of just taking my things." You pointed at Gaara, and he looked at you with wide eyes. "Being a little pervert is one thing, a thief is another."

"You say that as if you would give them to me."

"I don't know. I seem to like how you want me so badly you act like an animal." You shrugged. "It makes me feel better about the thoughts I've had about you." He was visibly caught off guard by your words. There were a few seconds of utter silence as Gaara stared at you before you raised your eyebrows at him.

It was hard to tell what was going through his head.

Then he took a step closer. His eyes now looked hungry as he was stalking toward you. He only stopped when he stood close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin and his gaze studied your face.

"You have thoughts about me?" His voice had dropped in tone as he cocked his head to the side.

"I do."

"Then in the cave.... That wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment thing?"

"I'll admit I did have ulterior motives at first. But I meant it when I said that I was coming back to you. I worried about you the whole time I was gone." You were being honest and hoped that he could tell.

"What ulterior motives?" His brows slightly furrowed.

"To tell the truth? I was planning to jerk you off so you'd be less inclined to maul me." There was another pause before the corners of his mouth curled up and he laughed. Gaara's laugh was sweet and reached his eyes; it made your heart skip a beat.

He was a pretty beast and a pretty man. The way his eyes seemed to glitter in the sunlight coming through the barred windows made you momentarily forget your circumstances. Gaara covered his mouth with his hand while still smiling. His closeness and expression had your heart beating faster.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to be so blunt."

"Is that smile worth a kiss?"

"You want a kiss?"

"Well, it's either you give me a kiss, or I steal one like you've stolen my things." You waved your underwear and headscarves.

"Is this threat also with ulterior motives?" His question made you lean in closer until your noses were only centimeters away from each other.

"Yes. To get you to kiss me." You saw his eyes drift down to your lips. "I won't tell if you don't." You whispered with a smirk.

Gaara closed the distance between your mouths to kiss you. One of his hands came up to cradle the back of your head as his fingers laced through your hair. His other hand grabbed your hip to pull your body flush against his. You tossed the garments you held behind you to drape your arms over Gaara's shoulders.

As his lips moved in time with yours, you slid your fingers up the back of his neck. You knew you shouldn't be doing this with Gaara given the chances of getting caught being a lot higher than back in that cave. But one little kiss couldn't hurt, could it?

The way he kissed you was hungry; full of craving as he held you impossibly close. It made your knees feel weak. After tasting this forbidden fruit full of desire, no other man could compare.

Gaara pulled away only to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. He inhaled your scent and softly growled.

"You smell sweeter."

"What?"

"Stress is bitter." He muttered before grabbing the back of your thighs to lift you. A gasp left your mouth when you found yourself on your back and Gaara on top of you. His face was buried in your neck and shoulder as the straw beneath you rustled. "I've watched you get plumper and sweeter. It makes my mouth water." His lips were on your skin when he pulled your collar to the side. "I tried to behave. But I could never forget your touch or the way you sounded."

"Tried to behave? You stole my underwear, Gaara." You scoffed.

"I didn't think I could have you." He grazed his teeth over your exposed skin, his sharper canines causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. Gaara's tone and his mouth on you made you realize keeping it to 'just a kiss' would be harder than you thought; how quickly things had escalated and you were now in his bed.

You both were dancing on the edge, pushing just how far you would go. It was only supposed to be a one-time thing in that cave, but as Gaara had said, you also could never forget what happened between you two then. It was hard to think straight with him so close.

"But you want me. That much I know is not a trick." Gaara brushed his nose right under your jaw while slipping one of his hands between your thighs to cup your core. Your eyes fluttered closed as you took in a shaky breath. Your grip on his shoulders tightened from his fingers rubbing over your pussy through your clothes. "That scent doesn't lie."

Opening your eyes, you pulled Gaara's face away from your neck to look at you. The silence between you was sparking before you pulled him in for a kiss. Your tongue slipped past his lips to caress his, and Gaara yanked your apron off. He pulled at the rest of your clothes to have skin-to-skin contact and threw them to the side.

You moaned into the kiss while grabbing his hips to pull his body closer to yours. Feeling the warmth of his skin as his palm ran up your side made a shiver of delight go up your spine. His erection was pressing against your inner thigh until you spread your legs more, allowing him to get comfortable while lying against you.

His weight on top of you was bliss as you nipped his bottom lip. Your hands on his hips moved to go up his back. Gaara's breath faltered before he pulled away from the kiss for air. His deep blush had reached his ears and made his pale eyes stand out even more.

He lowered his head to kiss down your throat, and you leaned your head back to make it easier. His hands wandered, touching and groping anywhere he could reach. Gaara craved with his entire being, memorizing your body with his hands and lips as his kisses went lower.

He bit down on your chest hard enough to leave a mark near your heart. Gaara then licked the bite to help soothe it. Something about the bite made your skin buzz with excitement. His desire to mark you, to leave some evidence of his touch that lasted longer made you feel good.

You watched him kiss and nip more places over your torso. Gaara's lips were so gentle before the sting of his teeth followed, then the soothing wet heat of his tongue. It drove you wild, made worse by thinking of what else he could do with his mouth even in his beast form.

Gaara turned his face up again to look at you while holding your hips in place.

"I can't wait any longer." His voice was breathy as he panted.

"Go on, then." You bit your bottom lip while looking at his hard cock hovering over your core. Your hands were on Gaara's shoulders again as you watched him penetrate you. Being smaller in his human form made it easier, and his hips were soon flush against yours. Your hands on his shoulders moved to cup his face and guide him into another kiss.

His hunger for you was insatiable as his tongue slipped into your mouth and his hips began to rock. He was slow at first, processing every sensation at once before his hips snapped. Gaara had you moaning into his mouth over and over again just to devour the sound. His chest rumbled with a low growl when your fingers tangled in his hair and pulled, the sound vibrating not only his body but your own as well.

You quickly forgot about everything else; your chores, your circumstances, and even the risk of being caught was no longer on your mind. Gaara was all you could think about as he pistoned his cock and grabbed the back of one of your knees to raise it higher.

The new position allowed him to go deeper and grind against your clit. Gaara rested his forehead on yours while moaning and panting, breathless from the kiss. He leaned on his elbow placed near your head while still holding your knee up.

"You may need to keep my cage locked when you ovulate. I don't know what I might do now knowing how you feel and taste." Gaara groaned while going balls-deep in your pussy as arousal leaked down over your ass. The thought of him driven feral with need for you made you clench around his cock.

You moaned and let the waves of pleasure wash your worries away. Gaara rolled his hips, putting more pressure against your clit to make you squirm beneath him.

"Fuck~!" You cried out while tugging on his hair. "Please- Oh, fuck!- Please do that again." Gaara obliged, making you clench around him again.

You pulled his hair to bury your face in his neck. His grip on your leg tightened as he went harder, making you moan louder into his skin. Gaara growled with satisfaction and maintained his heavy pace to keep hearing you.

Your nails dug into his skin as your toes curled. Gaara bucked when you began to leave sloppy kisses on his neck. You nipped his warm skin, and hearing the way his breath shook, you bit harder, making him groan.

Gaara was falling apart on top of you, grinding and thrusting while moaning near your ear. When you bit down hard enough to leave a mark, he couldn't take anymore. His cock was buried to the hilt as he was coming. You licked the bite while smirking and holding him close.

Listening to him panting, you could feel his racing heart against your chest. Your fingers in his hair loosened their grip and began to gently rub his scalp to help him calm down.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet.

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry." Gaara let go of your knee. "You didn't get to-"

"Stop. It's okay." You cut him off and kissed his cheek. "If it really bothers you," You grabbed one of his hands and raised it. "you can use your hands." He watched as some of his fingers disappeared in your mouth. His chest rumbled with his eyes locked on your lips and tongue.

You weren't able to leave until hours later, body still buzzing and delightfully exhausted. Gaara wanted to explore you and had done just that. The fact that you left without underwear also meant you had to go straight home and get cleaned up.

It was clear things between you and Gaara would never be the way they were before. You began to bring him more gifts, starting with a small potted succulent to put in the window. When asked about it, you would say that it was an attempt to make the place less barren and easier to work in. The elders would roll their eyes but let you keep the growing number of plants in the windows.

All the while, you would sneak into Gaara's cage to spend time with him when no one else was around. From cuddling and sharing stories to sex that left you breathless, your relationship with Gaara grew. When he was in human form, you loved it when he smiled and clung to those moments.

"Who would have known this was all it took?" A woman's voice made you look up while you were wiping your hands off on your apron. You had just cleaned up after feeding Gaara and returned to see a blonde woman standing near one of the windows, touching one of the potted succulents.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." You said, and the woman looked back over her shoulder at you. You froze when you realized she was the Kazekage's daughter.

"You've been his caretaker longer than most. He even seems to like you." Her gaze drifted over you before she glanced at Gaara. "I wanted to know why. You don't seem all that special. You can't even control his curse seal." Temari's tone was steady as she spoke. "You also aren't the first to try being kind to him. In fact, the last person who tried to be kind to him ended up unrecognizable. So I couldn't understand what made you different." She then looked at the plants in the window again.

"I wish I could tell you." You chuckled nervously while shifting your weight on your feet.

"There's no need. I can see it now that I'm here." Temari crossed her arms. "You actually mean it. I heard you talking to him earlier. You were genuine in asking him how he slept and how he was feeling. Being genuine is something I've never seen anyone do for Gaara." She turned to face you and got closer. "You walked with him right into the village without being attacked or anyone else getting hurt. It has people asking questions."

"What? Why?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Temari suddenly grabbed you and shoved you against the cage bars. With one hand on the back of your head, she had your face pressed against the bars. Gaara was snarling with his hackles raised as he paced the cage. "He won't attack you. He attacks everyone if given the chance. My brother and I have scars to prove it. Gaara isn't some stray dog who starts obeying after being fed, and we all know it. People are thinking you're a witch."

"I'm not!"

"I know." Her grip loosened as she looked at Gaara. "But you should be careful." Temari backed away from you and moved to leave. "The Kazekage always puts the village first. If what you've done has weakened Sunagakure's greatest weapon, he won't take kindly to that."

The silence that followed her warning was tense.

"She knows, doesn't she?" You muttered while staring in the direction Temari had gone. "About you, I mean." Looking at Gaara, you saw him turning into his human form before grabbing the cage bars.

"Yes. I wasn't always locked away. Hurting them is how I got here." Gaara averted his gaze to look at the ground. "It was harder to control when I was younger. People hurt me, so I hurt them."

"Then Temari and Kankuro aren't going to be on your side anytime soon."

"No." Gaara shook his head. "Which means you need to make sure no one learns that you know."

"Do you never want to leave this cage? You don't have to keep going through this." You cupped his cheek in your hand while studying his expression.

"It's better that I'm here."

"How? You're not some wild animal, Gaara." He didn't respond while holding the back of your hand as he turned his face to nuzzle your palm. You sighed through your nose and didn't push the matter any further.

Your heart ached seeing him remain here like this. He looked at you and softly sighed through his nose.

"There's more to that story."

"What?"

"The last person who tried being kind to me. Temari doesn't know what really happened." Gaara looked away as his grip on your hand tightened. "He tried to kill me. What I did was in self-defense."

"I believe you." You muttered while brushing your thumb over his cheek. Getting to know Gaara, the real Gaara behind the raging beast, you learned that he was full of pain and had been lashing out his entire life. However, he was always honest about the things he had done even if it hurt.

After Temari's visit, it didn't seem as if she was planning to make regular appearances. It was like before when she avoided Gaara. It didn't seem as if she told the Kazekage her thoughts about you possibly making Gaara weaker either given the fact that you retained your position as his caretaker.

And when you stood in front of his cage with another potted succulent in your hands, holding it in front of your face while peeking over the plant, you knew. Hiding your smile with the succulent, you watched as Gaara's eyes softened and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He made a joke about how many plants were now filling the windows and spilling onto the floor but it wasn't a complaint. Hearing his light tone and seeing his soft smile, you knew you were in love.

You also knew that could get you in so much trouble. Had you fallen in love with any other man in the village, it wouldn't be an issue. But you had to go and fall in love with the Beast of Sunagakure.

What sort of future could you two possibly have? You didn't want to be sneaking around all the time just to be with him. What you wanted was Gaara out of that damn cage.

Your concerns for Gaara would keep you awake some nights. You would toss and turn, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep, but your mind wouldn't stop racing. On one of those nights, you couldn't take it anymore and got up.

The silence of the night surrounded you as you walked through the empty village with only a few drunkards stumbling about on their way home. It didn't take you long to reach the building where Gaara was kept far away from the rest of the villagers. Using your keys, you got inside without being seen and locked the door behind you.

Quietly making your way deeper into the building, you entered the room with Gaara's cage. He was sound asleep and curled up in bed. Moonlight through the barred windows provided enough light for you to find your way to the front of his cage to unlock it.

Gaara stirred when he heard your key turning in the lock with a twitch of his ear. He tiredly blinked while raising his head to watch you come closer.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep." You muttered while rubbing the back of your neck. "If you want me to go, I will." Gaara shook his head, much to your relief. His tail straightened out as he was shifting his body as if to get up. "Actually," You stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

He raised a brow in question, and you set the keys on the floor before timidly slipping under his arm while crawling into his bed. Gaara rolled onto his back with you lying on top of him. He looked down at you as you rested your cheek on his chest and heavily sighed.

The sound of his beating heart beneath your ear filled the silence. You relaxed against him, and Gaara draped one of his large arms over your back while crooning. Running your fingers through the soft fur on his chest, you listened to his heart.

Gaara nuzzled the top of your head, comforting you as your stress began to ease. Your fingers twirled around his fur, his warmth soaking into your bedclothes and reaching your skin. You wished you could stay like this without having to sneak back home before the morning light.

You raised your head to look at Gaara with your chin resting on his chest. His head tilted as he looked at you. With a soft smile, you leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose. He huffed through his nose before licking your cheek.

Chuckling, you grabbed his face to litter it with kisses. On his cheeks, forehead, nose, and temples. Gaara's chest softly rumbled with a growl that nearly mimicked a purr. He was loving the attention and your touch.

Gaara made a sound like a rolling chirp when you rubbed the base of his ears. His arm over your back pulled you closer to his face. Burying his head under your chin, he was breathing in your scent as your fingers went through his hair and fur.

"Look at you being so sweet." You cooed, and his tail curled. Rubbing one of his ears, you smiled. "You should've been nicer to me sooner if this is what you wanted." Gaara huffed through his nose again, the warm air hitting your neck and chest and making you chuckle.

You wanted to be able to do this every night.

"My lovely Gaara." Your voice was soft as you traced your fingers along his jaw. Gaara gave a pleased rumble as his tail slowly swayed, letting you know that he was still enjoying the contact. "Maybe next time I'll sneak you out to my house." His ears perked up. "Oh, you like that idea, do you?" You chuckled, and he nodded. "I could bring a cloak to disguise your human form. Then I could make us dinner."

Gaara was quietly listening to your musing as you ran your fingers through his hair. His tail coiling rustled the straw in his bed.

"After dinner, we could have a bath. Nice and warm. You'd end up smelling like me, though, unless I get you your own soap." You hummed but felt Gaara shake his head. "No? You don't mind using my soap?" He shook his head again. "All right, then. We could even help each other wash up. I often have some trouble getting my back. You'd help me with that, wouldn't you?" You asked as your hand went down the side of his neck and over his chest to his shoulder.

Gaara nodded after a short pause. His ears were low and his heart was beating faster. Looking at Gaara, it didn't take you long to figure out why he wasn't as relaxed as before. While you were talking, he was imagining.

"See? You're so sweet." You pretended not to notice the changes in Gaara and continued to talk. "My bathroom is pretty small, so it'd be a tight fit for both of us in there. We can make it work if you don't mind being close to me. Hmm. I won't have to fill the tub as much with you in there, though. If I did, there'd just be water getting everywhere." Your fingers traced lazy circles in his short fur. "And then we could cuddle in my bed. It's not as spacious as yours, but you should be able to fit with me in your human form."

There was a quiet groan from Gaara that made you scoff in amusement.

"What? Don't want to squeeze in? Sorry, prince. I can't afford a luxurious house. It's also a good thing you don't think I stink because everything smells like me in there too." You softly sighed but watched as Gaara's ears moved and his breath faltered. "I'm beginning to think you like that idea; being surrounded by me. Well, you'd have to behave for me to be able to sneak you through the village. Think you could be a good boy for me?" Your voice went softer, and his ears turned back as his hold on you tightened.

Gaara nodded to answer you while turning his face toward your neck. You knew his mind was racing now even if you couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking about. Flattening your palm against his chest, you heard his tail twitch across the straw. His tongue slithered out to lap at your throat.

"Is something on your mind, Gaara?" You asked as a smile pulled at your lips. He gave a soft whine from the back of his throat. "Are you uncomfortable? I can lay beside you instead-" You moved to sit up only to have Gaara pull you back into him. Chuckling, you kissed his temple. "So if that's not your problem, what is?" He huffed, his warm breath rolling over your skin.

There was another soft whine as Gaara nuzzled your jaw.

"Oh, I think I know what it is." Your fingers circled the dark spot on his chest. "You're thinking about me naked, aren't you? Soaking wet from a bath. Skin warm and soft beneath your hands." You purred as your hand went down his torso. "The smell of fresh soap clinging to my hair. Sheets soaked in my scent." Gaara groaned low, making his chest vibrate beneath you. "I can sneak you over tomorrow if you're that interested. But for tonight...." You trailed off while lifting your tunic higher up your thigh.

Gaara's gaze followed your hand, watching as more of your skin became exposed. When you glanced back, you saw that Gaara's hard cock was already leaking with precum. Looking at him with a smile, you scooted down his torso to press yourself against his erection. He moved his arms to give you more room.

Slipping off your underwear, you then took off your tunic. Straddling Gaara's hips, you leaned back while placing a hand on his thigh for stability. His cock was pressing against your ass while your other hand traveled over your body.

His breath quickened as he watched you. Your hand went down your torso before your fingers spread yourself wider. There was a low growl from deep in Gaara's chest as he stared at your pussy on display for him. His tongue hungrily licked his maw while watching your fingers glide through your arousal. You circled your entrance and up to your clit.

Your breath faltered from how you touched yourself. Gaara couldn't look away, drinking in how the moonlight lit your skin and made your wetness glisten. His eyes were begging for more.

Letting your head fall back with a groan as you rubbed the throbbing bud beneath your fingers, you bared your throat to Gaara. He sat up, taking his chance to taste your skin with his long tongue curling around your neck. Your hand on his thigh moved to push against his chest.

"Lie back down." Gaara hesitated with a whine before doing as told. He was eager, needy, and you had been teasing him with fantasies. You made him watch as you slid your fingers into your pussy and coated them in your slick. Gaara looked so close to snapping.

Pulling your fingers free, you lifted your hips to bring Gaara's cock in front of you. Your wet fingers smeared your arousal along his shaft as he groaned. You hummed while swiping your thumb over the tip of his dick, using his precum along with your slick as a lubricant.

Placing one hand on his stomach, you lined up his cock, running the head between your wet lips until it slipped into place. Lowering your hips, you felt yourself stretch to accommodate his thickness. Gaara whimpered when you took all of him as his fingers twitched and his claws flexed.

Closing your eyes with a sigh, you took a few seconds to adjust. Gaara rested his arms above his head to dig his claws into the straw. Raising your hips, you sank back down to the hilt. You set a slow and steady pace at first while readjusting to get a better angle.

Gaara grunted as his face twisted with pleasure. You rode him with your hands running up his sides. His back arched off the bed when you clenched around him, his sharp intake of breath making you smile. He couldn't keep still beneath you, twitching and groaning with your arousal dripping down his balls.

You picked up speed after planting your hands on his chest. Rising and falling on his cock, you moaned and panted, feeling his soft barbs from deep within. His head rolled to the side as he panted and his claws left scratches on the bed beneath the straw.

His mouth hung open from his heavy breathing as drool dripped from his fangs. Gaara's gaze drifted down, his muscles twitching as he watched your body move. His eyes settled on his wet cock you were busy bouncing on. He groaned as his keen ears picked up the slick sounds coming from between your thighs along with your shaky breaths and moans.

He could see how your body stretched around him and felt how it clenched and squeezed. You liked how lost he looked. He could easily roll over and mount you if he wanted, but he was instead letting you ride him as he squirmed.

Gaara bucked, driving his cock deeper when his tail smacked against the bed and floor. You moaned as your nails dug into his fur. His chest rumbled beneath your hands, sending vibrations up your arms.

"Does it really feel that good, pretty boy?" You purred, and Gaara's ears turned back as he whimpered. You knew that if he was in human form his blush would be spreading down to his chest from how he was acting. He managed to nod before licking his maw with a groan. "I can't believe just talking about- Ngh!- spending the night together got you this riled up. You're so cute." One of your hands slid down his torso, fingers ghosting over his abdomen and around his belly button before going lower.

His body arched toward your touch as if seeking more of it. Gaara rocked his hips up, giving more of an impact when you sank down on his cock. You cursed through a moan and leaned back to place your other hand on his raised knee. Gaara continued to thrust his hips in time with your movement while gripping the edge of the bed above his head. Your hand that had gone down his torso now went up to your clit.

Rubbing circles over it, you felt yourself clench around Gaara's dick. His entire body tensed as his lip curled into a snarl to bare his fangs. He watched your hand work while trying to keep his hips moving steadily.

Your grip on his knee tightened. It was difficult to focus while seeing the way Gaara looked at you and hearing his sounds of pleasure as his cock filled you. You could feel your orgasm building and added just a little more pressure to your clit. You bucked, Gaara's name spilling from your lips with a breathy voice.

Gaara's grip on his bed was harsh enough to break a piece off in his massive hand. The damage wasn't enough to make either of you stop, so close to the high that nothing else mattered. Your thighs burned and clenched around Gaara's hips. Your blunt nails were digging into Gaara's thigh when you finally climaxed.

Your orgasm was the last straw for Gaara, his head rolling back as he bellowed. You were locked in place by his barbs while feeling his cum flooding your core. Your body was buzzing and sensitive, feeling every twitch of his cock buried inside you. He groaned as his body relaxed, and you let your gaze wander over Gaara.

The rise and fall of his broad chest, the drool leaving a sheen on his jaw, and the way his fingers spread and closed into a fist as if to keep himself grounded. When his cock and barbs began to soften, his body began to shrink from him shifting into human form. More of his cum spilled out and dripped down his balls before he propped himself up on his elbows to look at you.

Seeing the little smile on your face was all it took before he reared up and grabbed your face to kiss you. It was sweet and hungry, his arms wrapping around you to hold you against his chest. Your fingers slid into his hair to deepen the kiss, but then you caught a glimpse of the chunk missing from his bed and began to laugh.

Gaara was confused for a second before realizing what you were laughing at. His lips curled upward with a laugh bubbling up that made your heart flutter. His pretty eyes glittered in the moonlight as you both laughed together over the broken piece of the bed discarded on the floor.

Until Gaara suddenly stopped and his head whipped in the direction of the windows. He tensed, making you follow his gaze to see what he was looking at.

Never did you think someone other than you would come to see Gaara in the middle of the night. He was feared by nearly the entire village; who other than you would possibly dare come here in the dark? And yet, despite everything, someone was standing outside and looking in through one of the barred windows with eyes wide in shock.

Dread settled in your gut. How much had this person seen? You were naked in the arms of a man in the Beast's cage; it wouldn't be hard to figure out what was going on.

"Gaara, what the fuck?!" The man outside whisper-yelled before looking away as if to check his surroundings. Gaara quickly leaned over to grab your tunic and shove it into your arms.

"Get dressed." He rushed to move you off him before getting up. You did as told, pulling your tunic over your head before searching for your underwear. Gaara remained in human form, and it wasn't until the man outside came inside that you recognized who he was. Seeing the man's face made you feel even worse.

"What in the fuck is going on here?!" Kankuro hissed while standing outside of the cage. The silence that followed was deafening. Gaara grabbed your wrist to pull you closer as if he was worried something might happen. He stood straight with his shoulders squared and a serious look on his face.

"We were having sex."

"No shit."

"Then why ask?"

"Are you kidding me? We all know what you're like, Gaara. I'm asking how the fuck this happened." Kankuro waved his hand.

"Do you seriously want me to answer that?"

"Yes!"

"I became aroused, and then they took my penis-"

"Are you stupid?! I don't need you to tell me how sex works!" Kankuro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while his other hand was on his hip. You had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing. You weren't sure if Gaara was trying to frustrate his older brother on purpose or not. "You nearly took out my eye once, so finding you giggling and balls-deep in someone is the last thing I expected to ever see. Temari said you took a liking to your caretaker, but I didn't think it was to this degree."

"What are you doing here anyway?" Gaara asked while crossing his arms.

"I was coming to talk to you about what Temari told me. Wasn't sure you'd talk to me, but clearly, I got my answer regardless." There was an awkward silence as they looked at each other. Even if they were brothers, they were not close, and Gaara stood unmoving and unspeaking like a statue.

A naked statue with bits of straw sticking out of his hair.

"Could you at least cover up?" Kankuro sighed, and Gaara lowered his hands to hold them over his crotch. "You know this is going to cause problems."

"Don't push me, Kankuro. I won't waste time with threats if you put them in danger."

"Look, I'm not saying I'm gonna tell. But if you two plan on fucking next to uncovered windows, I'm not gonna be the only one seeing something. Now can we backtrack to how this even happened to begin with? You're not exactly known for being the cuddly type."

"....It's complicated."

"I got that already." Kankuro glanced at you. Your hands were clutching the sides of your tunic as you kept quiet to let Gaara handle whatever this situation was developing into. It was looking as if Kankuro was going to keep your and Gaara's secret.

You just couldn't figure out why. With the brothers not being close, what reason did Kankuro have to keep what Gaara was doing hidden from the Kazekage?

"Just tell me what you want." Gaara's tone was steady and cold.

"We can talk about that in private." He then looked at you again. "I can walk you home."

"They're not going anywhere with you until you tell me what you want." Gaara remained firm. He was suspicious and acting with caution. Should you worry about what Kankuro might do?

"Gaara...." He trailed off before sighing with both of his hands on his hips now. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Fine." Kankuro paused while looking at the ground until he finally looked at Gaara again. "I'm next in line to lead the village, but I have no desire to do so. I want you to find someone to take my place when the time comes."

"That's a lot to ask of me. I wouldn't think you'd entrust such a task to me either."

"Well, I've got quite the bargaining chip now. Even if I don't want to tell our father about your secret little nighttime visitor doesn't mean I can't." Kankuro raised his eyebrows, and Gaara glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

"I'll do it."

"Good." The sealed deal left you a bit confused, but you weren't going to ask Kankuro why he didn't want to be the next Kazekage. Not at the moment, at least.

"It's late. You should go home." Gaara turned to you before cupping your face in his hand to kiss your forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow." He then kissed your cheek before whispering to where only you could hear him. "I'm sorry you have to clean up the mess by yourself." Your cheeks burned, well aware of what he meant since his cum had been soaking into your underwear the entire time you patiently stood by as he and Kankuro talked.

Kankuro did indeed walk you home after leaving Gaara. It was quiet and awkward given the circumstances. What were you supposed to say to the man who caught you having sex with his younger brother?

"So....why don't you want to be Kazekage?" You asked after turning a corner.

"I'm just not cut out for it. I've seen what it's done to my father trying to manage everything all these years. I know I couldn't do that." Kankuro heavily sighed while putting his hands into his pockets. "So....you and Gaara?"

"What about it?" You averted your gaze, not sure what he was going to ask next.

"How did that happen? I know you're his caretaker and all, but I can't see how you decided a beast was a good idea for a lover."

"Gaara's more than just a beast." You muttered. "Like he told you, it's complicated. One thing just seemingly led to another."

"I'm kind of jealous."

"What? Why?"

"I'm still single, and yet Gaara who spends most of his time snapping and growling somehow got you." Kankuro sighed with slumped shoulders. You couldn't help but laugh at his pouting but tried to hide it behind your hand. "Yeah, laugh it up. At least I'm not dumb enough to have sex next to open windows."

"At least I am having sex." You popped off without thinking and immediately regretted your words. If you angered Kankuro, he could go back on his deal with Gaara and tell your secret.

To your relief, he burst into laughter.

Entering your house, you went to get some light in the dark room. Gaara slipped in behind you, shutting the door and locking it before he reached up to pull back the hood of his cloak. He took in his surroundings as you walked to the cupboard to get out ingredients for dinner.

"I think you're right."

"About?" You asked while setting out food.

"Me leaving the cage. For good." Gaara's words made you look at him.

"Really?"

"I want to...." Gaara glanced away for a second before locking eyes with you. "I want to be the Kazekage. But I'll need your help." You froze while processing what he'd just said. "Will you help me?" There was some uncertainty in his eyes until you gave a reassuring smile.

"Of course I will."

#Beast of Sunagakure #gaara x reader #gaara #gaara smut #naruto smut #naruto #reader x character #afab reader #exophilia #monster!gaara #lemon #Wolf does fanfic

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aliengoose · 1 year

Text

OK GENLOSS THOUGHTS LETS GO

as lots of people are saying I reckon this episode was supposed to give us an idea of how the show is “supposed” to run, and that’s partly why it was so silly and goofy. the eerier bits were all about things that aren’t “supposed” to happen.

in terms of plot it seems ranboo has been kidnapped by showfall and is being mind-controlled by us as sort of “players”. he comments once or twice about not knowing why he’s doing something or not being in full control, and occasionally appears to become more lucid (a few people have pointed out that the mask flashes at these points). basically ranboo is being used as a videogame character to entertain the masses by showfall media.

i cannot figure sneeg out, he’s clearly not being mind controlled seeing he “cheats” with the scissors and also doesn’t have any mask to suggest he’s under control, plus we don’t get to control him at all. I’m thinking perhaps he was an earlier main character test that made showfall realise they need more control over them.

Somethings up with charlie and idk what. if showfall is going “hey lets get these internet personalities to be our unwilling characters in this game” it would make sense for why he’s got the slime motifs and all that. BUT how can they be sure he’s doing what they want him to? perhaps he is affected by slime the same way sneeg was? maybe showfall figured out a way to use slime to control him? much to think about.

there’s also the possibility that it’s just not that deep but i do think it’s supposed to give the impression that the entire thing is happening in our world and isn’t scripted or anything. that’s why i love the choice to act it all out live, it doesn’t just allow for more interaction, it is literally a live broadcast of an game featuring fun “characters”. I really hope there’s some deeper meaning in that, about the treatment of people as entertainment without thought for their own health and wellbeing, and the way entertainers often have to play a caricature of themselves to appease their audience.

i know a lot of people have been talking about a face reveal in genloss and given the mask is linked to controlling ranboo and they literally cannot take it off right now i see it going one of 3 ways;

1. he takes the mask off and we get a face reveal (doubt)

2. he takes the mask off BUT they’re wearing another mask underneath. seems like something they’d do

3. he doesn’t get the mask off. we lost. ranboo is stuck under the control of showfall media with only short periods of lucidity. ranboo said at one point that we should be left with a feeling of dread. maybe there’s no escape. what’s more terrifying than doing everything right and still being doomed?

ok that’s all i can think of for now sorry it’s a long post but idk how to add a read more on mobile ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. i’ll edit this if i think of anything else i guess?

edit: this is blowing up i have genloss art in my pinned and plans to make more 👀

edit 2: @pinkpuffballdude ‘s tags reminded me!!! i had completely forgotten to talk about sneeg being awake and staring with dead eyes through the whole sleep part. THAT was creepy. It made me think of NPCs to be honest, the way he wasn’t able to do anything but being forced to witness everything happening, not being able to sleep without a bed. I don’t know how to explain it right now and i’ll come back here if i figure it out. BUT he also talks about refusing to do the cooking show which is the main thing that got me thinking he was a past mc who’s been locked away. also aligns with his “the taken” name in The Game.

#genloss #generation loss #ranboo #sneegsnag #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle #i’m honestly still processing this #can’t wait for it to get creepy and gorey tho #hope ranboo is alright too - he seems alright so hopefully just something the doctors can patch up real quick #goose.txt

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leeknowsintrusivethots · 1 year

Text

Marked By Him

Part 1 | ?????

Pairings: Lee Know(SKZ)/OC, Secretssssss here

Summary: Vampyres dominate the entertainment world with their otherworldly beauty and talent. It's a world you must be born into, but a few lucky ones are Marked. Stripped from her home and everything she knows, Minji's Marking means that she has to rely on the Devil himself, Lee Minho, to be her mentor. He's cute and sweet to the public, but behind closed doors the monster comes out to play.

Content: Angst, slow burn romance, lotsa plot, eventual smut, vampires, darkish romance, original characters, first person perspective, general 18+ content, asshole Lee Know, alternate idol universe, love triangle (Surprise), pet names: kitten/mouse

WC: 2,208

Minors do NOT interact. Do NOT repost my work in anyway. This includes translations or sharing to sites such as Wattpad or Ao3.

Notes: I have risen from the dead through the power of Stray Kids. This one is intended to be a long form story, probably around 20 parts or so or until it reaches a natural end. Individual parts will be labeled as smut and smut warnings will be included for future parts. Ngl, it's mostly wish fulfillment and because not many people seem to write longer SKZ content. Enjoy, my dirty dirty friends.

"He will meet you in Conference Room Number Zero."

I waited for his arrival with anticipation creating a knot in the pit of my stomach. Not even meeting the CEO of JYP Entertainment had caused such nerves to take root. This was the person I would be spending most of my time with - the one who would integrate me into my new life. He would be my mentor and teacher. I could only guess at what kind of person he would be.

Would he be kind? Smart? As ethereal and graceful as they usually are?

They were known for their cold beauty - so chilling and unreal that it haunted people as well as it enamored them. I am sure, just like humans, they varied but every single one that graced the media was the image of physical perfection. They were Gods come to life amongst mortals. If even the average ones were half as good looking, they still had to be pretty damn exceptional compared to humans.

And so I waited.

The dusty, peculiarly ancient looking grandfather clock chimed in the corner of the room. It didn't fit the image JYP was associated with: a sleek and modern entertainment company that housed some of the brightest talents in Korea. As a matter of fact, the entire 'conference room' felt out of place compared to the rest of the building. The modernity of the outside was forgotten in the confines of the four walls that surrounded me.

The wallpaper was reminiscent of an ancient mansion: a dark royal blue with silver feligreses interspersed through the length. All of the windows in the building were tinted darkly to ward off paparazzi but also natural light, but the windows in this room were completely covered. The only light source came from elegant sconces that dotted the walls and an antique lamp that sat in on the corner of the desk I was seated at. The rest of the room was filled with shelves of books and peculiar looking items that my frazzled brain refused to make sense of.

All I could do was marvel at where life had taken me: at how I was going from ordinary to extraordinary.

The doorknob twisting had me sitting up straighter in my seat and my eyes widening in alert. I held my breath as the door disengaged and opened. It felt like life had gone into slow motion as he entered. As I took in my mentor, the world stopped as my heart sped up and heat rose in my cheeks.

He was beautiful. He had sharp facial features that only God himself could have chiseled: perfectly pouty lips that would put most human women to shame, large dark eyes that captured the soul at a glance, perfectly styled black hair that looked so thick and soft I wanted to run my hands through it just to see if it was real, and clear skin without a single blemish. He could have been a painting, a true work of art.

And even more insane: I knew who he was.

I watched music videos with him in them. I bought his group's albums at every release. I had posters of him on my bedroom walls back in Busan. I had spent countless hours of my youth being a dedicated fan.

"Minji?" Lee Minho questioned with a raised brow.

I was so enraptured I hadn't even noticed the door shut. I hadn't even noticed that he had crossed the room to stand behind the chair opposite of me. I had also completely forgotten my manners. I pushed back from my chair in a haste and stood up. I bowed deeply, partly out of how much respect I had for him but also as an apology for forgetting myself.

"Hello. I am Minji," I greeted formally.

He nodded with an air of boredom about him in return before taking the seat he was behind. Even the way he sat was gracefully beautiful. The man could burn whole cities and he would be forgiven based on his looks alone.

"Sit," he commanded simply. I did as I was told and resumed my seat immediately. I couldn't help but to study his features further, committing them to memory to paint later. His sharp jaw, his soft looking mouth, and his eyes. Eyes that were staring at me with something scarily remicent of disdain under a dark cocked brow.

Suddenly, I felt inferior. I felt unworthy to look at him so blatantly. Who was I to stare at someone like him? My eyes fell to the table before me in something akin to shame.

"I am assuming the Tracker gave you all the usual information pamphlets?" he asked in a bored tone. I got the impression he wanted to be anywhere other than in that room with me. It hurt that the man I idolized seemed to be so disinterested in me, but what did I expect? He had millions of fans all over the world.

"Yes," I answered as steadily as I could. I heard him rustling through papers and waited as patiently as I could for him to offer more information or even ask something else, but he didn't. I only willed myself to glance up at the loud thud of something being dropped onto the desk in front of me. It was a large book - a textbook. It was eerily new and modern compared to the rest of the contents in the room. The title was simply "Marked."

"This book has been approved by the Association to help guide you into your new life," he said with a small but beautiful chuckle at the end as if he found the book amusing more than anything. "You will finish a chapter every two days in-between normal idol training."

"I- I can do that," I stuttered when he paused as if waiting for a response.

"Good girl," he almost scoffed in mockery at my answer. My cheeks heated again and strangely a small tingle made itself known between my legs at the insincere praise. I did my best to ignore it. When he didn't continue, I chanced a glance up at him to find him smirking in amusement before he continued. "After each chapter, we will meet here for any questions and to review what you have learned."

He paused again, and I nodded to show I understood without daring another look at him. I was never a loud or overly confident person, I was simply quiet. That didn't mean I was a doormat, until Lee Minho walked through the door. I was fairly certain at that moment I was wearing a shirt inviting him to step on me.

"I was told to make myself available to you for further questions and help in between meetings," he continued. I heard a rustling as he stood from his chair. I refused to look up even as his shoes appeared in my peripheral. I could feel his presence next to me like a reaper come to take my life, but the normal feeling of body heat was absent. A cold hand pushed the long loose hair back from my shoulder, exposing the bare column of my neck to the chill of him and the room. I involuntarily shuddered.

"You won't have any questions or need any help, will you?" he asked with a faux saccharine in his voice that somehow chilled me to my core. The blood in my veins had turned to ice as my heart pumped harder to compensate. My words stuck in my throat as a strange panic set in.

I knew they were dangerous. I knew they could hurt me, but this was Lee Minho - Lee Know of Stray Kids. He was the weird but sweet one who showed his affection by spanking his fellow members. He was not the kind of person who discreetly threatened strangers, but I felt like that's exactly what he was doing.

"Answer me, Mouse," he all but demanded with the fake sweetness fading and the chill boredom returning to his voice.

Insanity comes in all forms and from all places. Sometimes it's as simple as someone making a noise that gets on your nerves that makes you snap. In my case: I had traveled to a whole new city on my own and uprooted my life in a move that was not of my choosing. I was alone. I was scared. I was changing into something I couldn't even begin to comprehend in a world I had only read about, and the man I had considered to be my ultimate kpop bias was threatening me and treating me like a burden. The actual audacity.

My head snapped up and my eyes found his. I stared at him with a newfound sense of annoyance. I didn't ask for this - I wasn't even sure if I wanted it. How could he treat me so badly when he was fully aware of the situation?

"My name is Minji," I snapped with as much force in my voice as I could muster. "If we are to be forced into this situation together, at least call me by my proper name."

I don't know what I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting him to give a dark chuckle and his eyes to fill with - amusement? I also wasn't expecting long elegant fingers to reach up and take hold of my chin in a firm grip. His touch was cold. Despite my efforts to keep it from affecting me, it shot sparks of heat through my entire body in contrast to his temperature.

"Maybe not a mouse, then. A kitten with little ineffective claws," he mused. He held my gaze as he taunted me, keeping his hold firm on my chin. His face came closer and my delusional heart pounded out an encore. His soft lips were right there, just mere inches from my own. I could feel his cool breath on my cheek as he moved to my ear. His next words tickled my skin and had me shivering again. "Careful, Kitten. I like the feisty ones."

Insanity gripped me again. It was madness, pure and simple. I was taunting not a God like I thought, but the devil himself. I was starting to see that, but I did it anyway. "I'm sure they don't feel the same way. Cats are very good judges of character."

A sharp inhale against the side of my face followed a light chuckle as he pulled back to hold my gaze captured yet again. The amusement was still present, boredom all but gone, but it was mixed with something else - something darker, scarier.

"Word of advice kitten," he started. His cool hand released its grip on my chin to trail up my jaw and to the center of my forehead. "This Mark doesn't mean shit. You will never really be one of us - just an imitation - and no one here will praise you for it. It's a target, and you will be surrounded by predators."

"Why?" His words chilled me, actually had me fighting the impulse to shake in my seat, but the confusion weighed out. I didn't understand this world - I didn't understand them.

"Don't ask questions, Kitten, and maybe I'll take care of you if I decide it's worth it." For just a brief moment, his eyes glanced down at my lips. My silly heart almost couldn't take it, but I persevered.

"But-"

"No," he stated firmly. His hand had fallen back to my chin, and his thumb brushed against my lower lip almost accidentally. My breath hitched. "Listen and behave, Kitten. That Mark already draws attention, don't make it worse by being a brat."

With that, his cool presence was gone. He moved away so fast that I blinked and he was across the room at the door with his sinful fingers wrapped around the door handle. He didn't turn back as he spoke again. "A car is waiting at the front of the building. It will take you to the dorms. Welcome to hell, Kitten."

His words, combined with the entirety of the events that had just transpired, were the icy wake up call I needed. I had been Marked. I was entering a new plane of existence I knew hardly anything about, but I was already learning. It was dangerous. It was not at all like the media and the Association wanted the world to believe. They had painted the things that go bump in the night to be beautiful but perfectly normal parts of society - but the painting was beginning to turn red for me and it was only day one.

An antique mirror wedged between two bookshelves caught my eye. I vacated my seat and went to stand before it. The girl in the mirror was familiar. Long, dark hair, a light complexion with a smattering of freckles across the nose bridge. It was me, yet it wasn't. The mark stood in stark contrast against my skin. It was a dark purple outline in the shape of a crescent moon. It was a sign that I was changing. It was a sign I was becoming one of them.

I was becoming a Vampyre.

#kpop smut #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #kpop fanfiction #kpop ff #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids ff #skz smut #skz imagines #skz ff #lee know smut #lee know fanfic #lee know ff #lee minho smut #lee minho fanfic

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