#i think they just are caring about someone for the first time and only know how to parse the world through a romantic lense so they just
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but I would die for you in secret
Part 2
summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is less complicated now that he’s going to tell Ellie that you’ve been secretly seeing each other for months. You thought their discussion would go well, but when you get home from work to a note on your front door from Joel that reads, ‘Come over, we need to talk,’ it has you immediately thinking the worst—up until he answers his door in nothing but a towel and drags you inside to fuck your brains out for the first time in his bed.
pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader
rating: E (18+!! No y/n, explicit smut, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), Possessive Joel Miller, Dominant Joel Miller, Joel Miller has a big dick, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating (he tells you to choke on it (in a good way)), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, breeding kink, rough sex, dirty talk (so much), spit mention, biting, spanking, whatever the kink is where you’re turned on by good dads, Joel in just a towel, pregnancy discussion, fluff, the last 3k words in Ellie’s pov (truly delightful), Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, Joel giving Ellie shit, Ellie and Joel having the best discussions, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)
word count: 11.1k+
a/n: Yes, I did make my own gif because I was too lazy to try and hunt for it. I really, really wanted to write about what happened after the last chapter, and here we are. I think this will be the last one. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing!
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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The sun hadn’t risen when Joel Miller left your bed this morning.
That's how it usually was, him coming and going in the dark so no one sees him leave his house to come to yours across the street—the nights you spend together are bathed in secrecy, the two of you inhabiting your own little world, confined to the space of your home.
Why the sneaking around?
He didn’t want his daughter, Ellie, to know of his relationship with you. Over the many months you’ve been together, he’s let you in on much of what she had gone through before they got to Jackson. You understood that he’s all she has, and he’s worried that if he started openly dating, she’d think she isn’t as important to him as before or feel like Joel’s abandoning her. That’s the main reason he didn't want her to know, but with how often he brings up you being so much younger than him, and all the times he’s said you should be with someone your own age, you felt that he’s also ashamed of how old you are.
At least, that’s what you thought until the night before when he revealed his feelings for you and told you he wasn’t ashamed of you or the large gap in your ages.
When this all began, Joel was clear that all he could give you was his body—he was emotionally unavailable because he was too focused on taking care of Ellie.
Amazing sex with no strings attached? You were okay with that.
Except it wasn’t something casual, and there were strings attached.
You don’t just occasionally hook up with Joel; no, he’s at your place most nights and some days without his daughter knowing. You also can’t go out with anyone else, not that you want to—he doesn’t share or like when other men are interested in you. You aren’t any better, hating when women flirt with him, especially his next-door neighbor Sandra, who refuses to acknowledge he doesn’t want her.
Why does she, specifically, annoy you so much?
Not only does she shamelessly flirt with Joel any chance she gets, but she also touches him, her hand always ending up on his arm that he shrugs off, making him growl at her not to touch him. Does she listen? No, she still does it every time she runs into him, and it pisses you off that she doesn’t respect his boundaries. Plus, there was an incident a couple of months after he moved to Jackson where she got him over to her house under the false pretense of needing something fixed and then basically jumped him—she kissed him without his permission and came onto him, which he was not into and had him leaving immediately. He can’t stand her, and he’s been very firm with her that he’s not interested. If what she does to Joel isn’t bad enough, she creeps the fuck out of Ellie, and that pisses you off even more. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve saved the kid from talking to her; the look on Ellie’s face that screams she wants to be anywhere other than with Sandra makes your hackles rise, and a need comes over you to get the girl out of there as quickly as possible.
Has anything ever happened between Joel and Sandra to make her delusional enough to think if she keeps harassing him and his daughter, he’ll eventually want to be with her?
From what you understand, Tommy and Maria tried to set them up when he first arrived, but he declined; it truly was a case of right place, wrong time. He was polite when he rejected her and explained that his daughter needed him and that he had zero interest in starting a relationship with someone. Back then, he was completely occupied with taking care of Ellie, and dating was out of the question; it didn’t even cross his mind or was something he wanted. He was content with his fresh start in Jackson, alone with his kid to help her heal.
Why did Joel accept your advances the first time you met?
Right place, right time.
Once you moved to town, the father and daughter were settled to the point that Ellie was doing great in adjusting to life in Wyoming, and Joel felt he could finally do something for himself; you were tempting enough that he wanted to be selfish. He liked that you didn’t reek of desperation or made him feel pressured, neither of you doing anything that made the other uncomfortable. Obviously, there was a mutual attraction between you two, and the flirting went both ways; his head was already leaning toward yours when you went in for the first kiss, which he happily reciprocated.
What it came down to was he trusted you, and you were willing to do things on his terms.
And, of course, as it usually happens, feelings did develop—as his kid got better and more comfortable with living in Jackson, Joel opened up to you little by little, offering a tiny bit more of himself with each passing day and your relationship became confusing; it wasn’t only sex anymore; hasn’t been just that for a while, and it took you both over eight months to admit you’re in love, and for Joel to decide it’s time to tell Ellie, so he could actually be with you out in the open.
So, he left your bed before the sun had risen in order to be home before she woke up—that way, she wouldn’t be confused by his absence. He also planned on talking to her about what was going on between you two.
There’s this ritual he does before he leaves each morning that you’ve chalked up to him being from a different time and big on manners; your two previous sexual partners were closer to your age and nowhere near as courteous as him.
The slightest sounds will wake you, a side effect of surviving, and the moment the mattress springs squeak as he gets up, hours before you need to, your consciousness is coming back to you to assess if there’s any danger. Your ears perk at the rustle of him dressing in the dark, and you’ve learned not to spook when the blankets are pulled up to cover your bare body that gets tucked in. The kiss pressed to your hair always makes you smile at the sweetness, and you expect the whispered goodbye he says before he goes.
This morning, you didn’t expect the added ‘Love you’ at the end, which had your eyes opening and hand shooting out from under the covers to grab his, tugging him toward you. He knew what you wanted, chuckling as he leaned down to kiss your lips. You told him you loved him, too, when he straightened and started to leave, and he stopped at the doorway to get one last look at you under the dim light filtering through the gaps in your curtains from the street lamp outside, then headed home.
It’s safe to say your morning started off pretty great, and even though you didn’t see Joel after he left, the rest of your day wasn’t half bad either; it took a little turn when you got back to your house after working your job teaching at the school to a note from him on your door that read:
Come over
We need to talk
A romantic partner saying you needed to talk was never good, and worry knotted up in your belly like a ball, thinking things with Ellie didn’t go well when he told her about your relationship, and now he’s going to break up with you.
The first time you stopped by his place, you’d made the mistake of knocking; he was home alone and hadn’t known you were at the door until you rang the doorbell. It was adorable how he’d been a little embarrassed he didn’t hear you and pointed at his right ear to explain he had hearing loss. From then on, you always made sure to ring the doorbell, and you did so again, standing on his porch in the freezing cold with your winter coat on and worrying your lip between your teeth.
There’s the faint sound of him yelling from inside, “One minute!” thinking he’s upstairs, which is confirmed when you hear his heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. The deadbolt clicks as it’s unlocked, and the door is cracked open; Joel’s face appears, the rest of his body hidden.
He looks relieved to see you, and that’s a good sign. “Thank Christ, it’s you,” he says, opening the door some more to take your hand pulling you inside. The front door gets slammed shut, and your back is suddenly pressed against it, a surprised sound leaving your throat when his mouth crashes into yours, kissing you hard.
This is an even better sign that everything is okay.
He’s never kissed you in his house before.
One of his big palms cradles your face, the other locking the deadbolt beside you before it glides up your jacket-covered front to squeeze your breast. Your lips part to allow his tongue to delve inside and tangle with your own, looping your arms around his neck automatically. This kiss has your brain fritzing out, unable to think about anything except how he’s claimed you with his lips and tongue so fiercely and possessively while his large body cages you in. It’s embarrassing how long it takes a coherent thought to come through, and when it does, you’re lightly pushing at his chest, the surprise of bare skin under your hand causing you to break your mouth away to look at his body immediately.
A disappointed noise comes from him, and your eyes go wide at what you see.
“You’re naked,” you whisper.
His hand lightly holds your throat as he starts kissing along your jaw. “I’m not naked—I’m wearin’ a towel.”
That’s true. The faded blue towel is wrapped tightly around his waist, stopping just before it reaches his knees. His upper body is entirely bare, with pink and silvery scars etched all over his skin. No matter how many times you see him naked, you’re always so surprised by his broadness—it’s not a trick of his clothing or lighting that makes him appear big; he is that big.
“Still pretty naked.” You remember the thought you had. “Is Ellie home?”
“No,” he says into your skin. “She’s with Cat—” Her best friend. “—and they’re meetin’ us for dinner later.” His mouth is at your ear, feeling his hot breath, and shivering when he rasps into it, “Now, stop worryin’ about her, and let me take you up to my room so I can finally fuck you in my bed—I’ve been dyin’ to break it in with you.”
The proposition makes your cunt clench, and you’re interested in seeing his bedroom—he’s never invited you upstairs.
“Is this why you really wanted me to come over, to christen your bed?”
He pulls back to meet your gaze. “Didn’t want to scandalize the neighbors by puttin’ it in writin’, but yes.” His eyes darken as he slowly unzips your coat. “You comin’ up with me?” His voice deepens, nudging his nose against yours. “Since you’re my guest, we’ll do whatever you want.”
Joel always considers what you want, but he also seems instinctively aware of what you need—that’s the great thing about being with someone so much older and experienced; he knows how to play your body and make you feel so good that you’re happy to go along for the incredible ride.
With him saying you’ll do whatever you want, he’s letting you call the shots.
Your eyebrow raises. “Anything?”
“Within reason.” He kisses your chin, your skin tingling under his lips.
“Is there anything we did last night that’s not within reason…?”
The previous night, you weren’t expecting to see Joel because he’d been taking care of a sick Ellie for the prior few days. When he arrived at your place unannounced, he found you trying to make yourself come on your fingers and ordered you to finish as he jerked off, watching you. Then he fucked your brains out until your limbs were jelly and surprised you by asking if he could come inside you—something he avoided in the past and had only accidentally happened a handful of times.
His head moves to look you in the eyes.
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s all within reason.”
That sentence excites you. “Let’s go,” you say quickly. He chuckles and helps you remove your jacket, hanging it on the nearby coat rack, which only has a few other items.
He grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs, the third step from the top creaking loudly under each of your weights.
You’re not entirely sure what you’re expecting his bedroom to be like, but when you walk into it, you take a moment glancing around at everything; there’s his queen-sized bed that’s neatly made, he’s got a record player over in the corner with a stack of vinyl records next to it, a couple of landscape paintings of pastures decorate his walls, there’s a walk-in closet not even close to full of clothes, his own private bathroom, and on top of his dresser is a few framed photos—one of Ellie playing guitar, beside that, Joel and her standing next to each other laughing. The third has you walking over to pick it up.
“Joel?”
He’s shut the door, and his bare feet pad across the floor, moving toward you.
“Yeah?”
“If you didn’t want Ellie to know about us, why do you have a picture of me and her in your room?”
It was taken at the town party celebrating the harvest and shows Ellie sitting beside you at a table, leaning into you with her head against your shoulder as you both smile at the camera.
“She doesn’t come in here.”
He’s next to you, and you look over at him.
“But what if she had?”
“Wouldn’t have mattered.” He shrugs and takes the photo from you, setting it back down in its spot.
You turn to face him, crossing your arms over your chest, and his eyes lock onto your bosom.
“What do you mean it wouldn’t have mattered?”
It takes him too long to answer, and you realize he’s distracted, so you wave your hand in front of his face. “Focus, Joel.” His gaze goes to yours.
“What?”
“What do you mean it wouldn’t have mattered if Ellie saw the picture?”
“I mean, it wouldn’t have mattered; it wouldn’t have revealed anythin’ she didn’t already know.”
“How long?”
His face pinches in confusion. “Huh?”
“How long has she known about us?”
His hands sit on his hips, and his weight goes to one side, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.
“I don’t want you gettin’ mad at me when I tell you ‘cause I had no idea she was aware; if I’d known, it would’ve been made clear long ago to everyone you’re mine. Understood?”
It’s said with such conviction it leaves zero doubt that it’s the truth, and it feels like your skin is vibrating at the fact he’s really going to make sure all of Jackson knows that you’re together now.
You smile. “God, that’s hot—yes, I understand.”
“Good—she clocked us pretty much from the beginnin’.”
“Of course she did,” you reply. “I had a feeling she’s known for a while, but since the beginning? I am both impressed and very annoyed. Why didn’t she tell you she knew?”
He grimaces. “She thought it was a subject we avoided...” He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “I guess I’m cagey when Tess comes up, mostly ‘cause I don’t even know what that relationship was, and since I never said anythin’ about you, she figured we don’t talk about our romantic partners.”
Your eyes round. “Our? Is Ellie dating someone?”
His hand lowers, and he smiles, nodding. “She said I could tell you—Ellie’s way better at the secret girlfriend stuff than I am.”
“Cat?”
His eyebrows dip down. “How’d you know?”
“Ellie looks at Cat the same way you look at me.”
A long sigh leaves him. “So, it’s true.” He sounds defeated, his shoulders slumping.
“What’s true?”
“When she was pointin’ out how obvious we’ve been, she gave me shit for starin’ at you with, she called ‘em ‘googly eyes,’ whatever the fuck that means.”
You snort and step into his space, wrapping your arms around his neck, Joel’s hands holding your hips.
“It’s this way you look at me, and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was until you told me you loved me last night, and I realized it’s love; devotion—your eyes show the truth of what you’re feeling, and good news, babe.”
“What’s that?”
“You can give her shit for having googly eyes like her father.”
That seems to cheer him up, and honestly, it’s cute.
“She’s gonna hate knowin’ that—I can’t wait to tell her.”
You giggle. “So, Ellie’s really okay with us?”
“She is.” He nods.
“Good—this might sound weird.” You can’t look at him as you say this and focus on a patch of freckles on his shoulder, heat creeping up your neck. “But, um, you being a great dad and loving your kids so much—” He’s told you about Sarah. “—really does it for me. There’s something about it that’s incredibly attractive.”
“Yeah?” He ducks his head to press his lips over your pulse point, peppering kisses up your neck; his hand slides down between your legs where your warmth is felt through your jeans, rubbing over your sex. It makes you gulp, excitement sparking in your tummy.
“Yes.”
His mouth reaches your ear, tugging the lobe lightly between his teeth. His warm breath fans against your skin when he hovers his lips to whisper, “I think I know why.“
Your heartbeat thuds in your chest and pulses in your core to the same beat, feeling your need for him drip into your panties.
“W-why?”
He speaks in a huskier tone, “You know that havin’ my babies means they’d get a good father, and you have nothin’ to worry about when I fill your perfect little pussy with my come.”
Pleasure cuts through you sharp as a knife, and you moan.
“Yeah, I know you like it—is that what you want tonight, sweetheart? Want me to stuff you full?”
What he’s saying is making your skin so hot that your clothes are stifling, and you want him more than anything; you need him to ease the ache in your center.
“God, yes.”
“Then I’ll give it to you.”
You’re wondering what’s changed that suddenly has him unbothered about the possibility of getting you pregnant when he actively tried to prevent it previously—something you’ll have to inquire about later because it seems Joel’s had enough talking as his lips capture yours in a searing kiss, and he pulls your body flush against his.
It’s consuming and exhilarating.
No one has ever made you feel the way he does—the all-encompassing fiery passion that has arousal burning like an inferno in your belly, needing him so badly you think you might die if you don’t feel him inside you.
Wouldn’t that be a way to go? Dying of desperation from not getting Joel Miller’s dick—sounds kind of nice compared to the alternatives in today’s world.
You’ve also never been with someone his age.
There was this girl a little older than you that you met on your travels—you don’t find very many friendly people out in the wilds, and she joined you for maybe a week before she headed west toward Seattle. She told you one evening, as you sat by a fire under the stars together, that hands down, the best sex she ever had was with an older guy who was in his early thirties when the outbreak happened. She went on about how generous he was in actually making her come and that he knew exactly what to do; the entire experience was apparently life-changing. She swore she’d never get with anyone younger again, and you were intrigued.
When you asked her if it was weird fucking a guy old enough to be her father, she gave you a funny look, and you’ll never forget what she said:
“Ain’t nothing weird about two consenting adults having a good time.”
She had a point.
When Joel showed up at your door looking so incredibly handsome soon after you moved to Jackson, the conversation with that girl came to mind, and you decided to see if she was right, and dear god, this man in his late fifties has ruined you for anyone else—he was the first person to go down on you, he was the first person other than yourself to get you off, he was the first person to come inside you; the last one was an accident and it shocked you how much the risk turned you on.
You can’t imagine being with anyone else after him.
The kissing heats up, practically all tongues at this point, Joel’s straining cock beneath the towel pressing against you, and it’s always incredibly sexy the way he knows just what you need without you having to say a word—in less than a minute, he's stripped you of all your clothes, and has you on your back in the middle of his mattress, Joel on his knees between your spread legs, and leaning down, with your pebbled nipple sucked between his lips.
He has both of your breasts in his hands while he laves at one and then the other, the nibble of his teeth on the sensitive buds causing your pussy to weep for him, your fingers clutched in his damp, grey hair.
"Oh my god, Joel," you moan.
He loves worshipping your tits, and if you let him, he’ll play with them for hours; the problem is today, you’re on a time crunch since you have dinner plans, and you want a chance to make him feel good, too.
Your hands tug on his messy waves to get his attention, saying, "Let me suck your dick."
His head lifts, and you're met with dark eyes, his lips shiny with spit. The cool air hitting your wet skin causes goosebumps to rise.
"You want my dick in your mouth?" he asks.
“Yes, please.”
“Okay.” He grunts as he pushes himself up to kneel. He’s still wearing the towel, which is tenting in the front.
You eagerly sit up and get on your knees, shuffling toward him, and when you’re close enough, he can’t seem to help himself, his palms holding your face as he passionately kisses you. Your hands snake between your bodies to unwrap the towel around his waist, tossing it to the side without a care, and you wrap your fingers around his length that’s hard as steel and velvety smooth, feeling hot to the touch.
He nips at your bottom lip when he ends the kiss, and without another word, you’re moving back enough to get on all fours, holding your weight on one arm while your other hand grips around the base of him, and then he’s in your mouth—his girth has you opening as wide as you can, your lips stretching to their limit. He’s heavy on your tongue, taking more and more of him as you bob your head.
“That’s it, baby,” he groans. “Fuckin’ love that mouth of yours.”
Saliva is dribbling down his shaft, lubricating every stroke of your palm over what can’t fit in your mouth, his large hand guiding your head up and down his dick.
“Spit on it,” he commands. You hover your lips over him, gathering saliva on your tongue, and looking up at him through your lashes as you let it drip onto the tip of him—his pupils are blown so wide, there’s hardly any brown remaining, a gorgeous pink flush crawling up his chest and neck to paint his stubbled cheeks.
He’s watching you, his chest rumbling when you take him back into your mouth and fondle his sack in your palm.
When you first met, you were pretty inexperienced when it came to sex—you’d only slept with two men, and it hadn’t been very pleasurable on either occasion. Then Joel came along and showed you how good it could be and let you experiment to figure out what you did and didn’t enjoy. He also walked you through what he liked, which is why you know how he’s going to respond as you suck him off and gently tug on his balls. “Fuucckk,” he says in a drawn-out moan, and it has electricity dancing down your spine that you’re making him feel so good.
You go back to jerking him, your hand moving easily, twisting on the upstroke along his spit-slick cock, while bobbing your head, feeling him slide along the broad flat of your tongue to hit the back of your throat—you’re making appreciative noises that vibrate against his skin, loving him in your mouth, and how vocal he is in his enjoyment, Joel groaning, his breaths getting heavier, and slowly thrusting his hips.
You come off of him, licking a stripe from root to tip, tracing a bulging vein with your tongue, and circling the sensitive edges of the head. His cock throbs in your hand as you hold it out of the way to go lower and suck one of his balls into your mouth, massaging it with your tongue before giving the second the same treatment.
His voice is a deep baritone, the words thick with desire. “You’re so fuckin’ good to me.”
Licking back up, you swirl around the tip and sink down again, hollowing your cheeks.
His hand easily covers yours low on his shaft to keep it and himself still, his other palm going to the back of your head. “Choke on it, baby—take it down that pretty throat.”
This time when he fills your mouth and hits the back of your throat, you relax, swallowing around him, taking as much of him into the tight space as you can, and there’s enough of him that won’t fit for your fingers to wrap around—his other hand clutches your hair as he keeps your head from moving, your eyes watering, drool spilling from the corners of your lips, while his hard cock fills your throat. You’re doing the best you can to breathe through your nose.
He’s panting. “That’s fuckin’ it—so fuckin’ beautiful with my dick down your throat.” His fingers go around your neck to feel it bulge. “You love havin' my cock fillin' you, don’t you? Your pussy, your throat, you're hungry for it and can't get enough 'cause no one can make you feel as good as I do, isn’t that right?” You moan in agreement, his shaft pulsing on the flat of your tongue. “God, you make the prettiest noises for me.”
You swallow around him, and his punched-out groan has your cunt clenching hard on nothing, a layer of slick coating your inner thighs.
“Stop,” he orders, pulling you off of him and causing you to sputter. “I’m not comin’ in your mouth.”
The statement has a sharp spike of arousal erupting low in your stomach because you know this means he’s going to finish inside you, and it has you wanting him with every fiber of your being.
He gets you up on your knees, holding your chin as he smashes his lips to yours, his tongue slipping inside where he sucks on your own. Your heart is hammering in your chest, moaning as the fingers of his free hand pinch and roll your stiff nipple, and you’re trying to convince your lungs that you’ll be okay without oxygen for another minute when his mouth suddenly leaves yours. Your chin is still cradled in his palm, Joel’s breaths coming out hard as he shoves his face against the side of yours and lightly bites the apple of your cheek before his lips are at your ear.
The sides of your faces are touching, his stubble prickling against your skin. “Now what?” he asks. Anticipation has you practically vibrating. “You got to suck my dick, what do you want now? You’re in charge—my fingers? Want me to eat your pussy? Or my cock without me loosenin’ you up so you’ll feel it tomorrow?” He smacks your ass with his other palm, and you gasp. “Tell me.”
Joel is very well-endowed, especially in terms of girth, and he’s aware of this fact; unless you tell him not to, he always gets you off before he fucks you, so it relaxes your muscles and makes it easier to take him. Right now, you need him inside you too much to have the patience for any more foreplay, so be it if you’re a little uncomfortable tomorrow.
You swallow before you answer. “Dick, please.”
“How do you want it?”
“Your choice.”
“You got it, baby.”
He grabs a handful of your asscheek, then gives it a spank and kisses your cheek, letting go of your chin to slide his fingers through the slick lips of your sex, his face coming into your line of sight.
It’s clear in his darkened eyes how much he wants you.
“You get so fuckin’ wet for me,” he says and presses two thick fingers inside you, your mouth falling open when he starts pumping. The tips press into something magical you can never reach, no matter how many times you try. “This needy pussy can’t get enough of my dick,” he continues. “You want it? Want me to stretch you open? Make you feel it tomorrow and come so deep in your sweet little cunt I’m drippin’ from you for days?”
He has you feeling so hot you think you might combust.
“Yes.”
A quick kiss is pressed to your lips. “Hands and knees,” he orders, slipping his fingers out of you.
His way of helping you get into position is manhandling you until your hands and knees sink into the mattress with him behind you—he fucked you hard face down, ass up the night before, and you’re wondering if he’s going to give you an encore.
His fingers dig into your asscheeks as he spreads them and spits on your pussy, feeling the hot saliva start to drip, and hearing him repeat the action on his digits, that he uses to wet his cock. Joel slides himself through your folds and presses to your entrance, your hips pushing back enough to engulf the tip of him—a palm lands on your ass with a loud smack, the sting causing your head to fall forward between your shoulders with a moan, his other hand firm on your waist to stop your movements.
“Don’t be greedy,” he grumbles, slapping your ass again. “I gotta go slow so I don’t hurt you.”
You whine because you want him inside you already.
“You’re real fuckin’ needy today,” he says and slowly begins pushing in. There’s a slight burn as your tight walls stretch around him to accommodate his size, the ache in your core dissipating with every inch he feeds into your pussy. “Jesus Christ,” his tone is strained. “You’re so much tighter when I don’t make you come first—you’re chokin’ me.” Your fingers are clawing at the bedspread, your heart’s pounding, and sweat is starting to bead on your skin. There’s one word repeating over and over in your head: Big.
He takes his time; the seconds that tick by feel like hours, and once he’s fully sheathed inside you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in—the familiar fullness satisfies the overwhelming need you had and has something purring in the back of your mind that this is right; it’s perfect how he fills you. He was right; there’s no one else on the entire planet who could satisfy you like he does.
His large palm slides halfway up your spine. “You’re doin’ great for me, baby,” he rasps. “Takin’ me so well. Now, I’m gonna make you feel good.”
And the fact you know he is has your cunt throbbing incessantly around him.
His hands hold your waist, and he does an experimental thrust, your answering moan encouraging him to start moving—he’s slow at first, rocking his hips and letting you feel every ridge and vein on his thick cock as it moves in and out of you.
He’s pressing into heavenly spots you didn’t know existed before him, loving how deep in your depths he reaches. The waves of arousal he’s coaxing from you is soaking his dick and easing his movements.
“God, I love bein’ inside you,” he says and slaps your ass; you clamp down on him, and he groans. “You feel so damn good—fit me like a fuckin’ glove.”
You fuck yourself back on him as you whine, “It’s yours!”
He grits through his teeth, “Yes. It. Is.” Punctuating each word with a hard thrust that knocks the wind from your lungs. “It’s. Mine. You’re mine.”
His rhythm speeds up, a steady slap of his hips against yours that echoes in the room, Joel grunting with each stroke and your moans coming unbidden. Your ass is jiggling from the onslaught, your head is dizzy with pleasure, and heat is growing at the base of your spine, threatening to explode.
This is how you like it, getting fucked senseless.
You squeak in surprise when gun-calloused fingers grip your upper arms at the bend of your elbows and pull you up, making you arch your back, Joel tugging you back each time he thrusts forward, pounding into you hard enough your eyes roll back in your head, and your mouth opens in a silent cry—his rough sounds are slipping through his bared teeth and obscene squelching is coming from where he’s fucking into you at an unforgiving pace.
You’re quivering around him, your entire body shaking, quaking, as he pummels a spot that’s making stars dance behind your eyelids, the muscles in your belly tightening, winding, building you up higher and higher. Your skin is hot and buzzing like every nerve in your body is lit up, a thin layer of sweat coating the entirety of it.
His breathing is ragged, and he grits out the question, “Are you gonna come for me?” He doesn’t slow down. “I can feel you squeezin’ me—I know you’re close.”
His hands have an iron grip on you. Noise finally leaves your lips in stuttered moans, and you’re losing your mind at how fucking good it feels—you’re not going to last much longer.
“Once you go,” he says, “you’re takin’ me with you, and I’m fillin’ you up.”
The reminder has white-hot pleasure scorching in your abdomen, and you’re coming undone, shouting his name as your climax hits and euphoria takes over every molecule in your body.
A choked sound comes from behind you, and you get pulled back flush to him, Joel’s arm locking over your chest with his hand squeezing one of your tits while the other wraps around your throat, his lips pressing to your ear as he raggedly groans “There we fuckin’ go.” His teeth sink into your earlobe as his hips stutter, and he buries himself one last time as far as he can in your depths, whining as he comes—his cock pulses and twitches hard as he releases deep inside you, spurts and spurts of his come filling your inner walls.
There’s a chance you’ve left Earth with how you feel like you’re floating, your brain completely empty of thoughts—you’re not sure you could think if you even tried, let alone move.
You register being laid down on your side and the warm body curling around your back; an arm is over your middle, and your breast is being held in a large palm, feeling so relaxed you think you might fall asleep.
A minute passes.
Five.
Ten.
There’s a loud snore behind you.
“Joel?” It’s embarrassing how it comes out as a croak.
No response—of course, there’s no response, his left ear is pressed to the mattress, and he can barely hear out of the right. You rub your hand along his arm and lightly tap it.
He goes eerily quiet, and you know he’s awoken, but he’s taking a second to assess where he is. Joel sits up a little. “Somethin’ wrong, honey?”
Your torso slightly twists toward him, looking over your shoulder. His eyes are filled with concern when they meet yours.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you reassure him and pat his forearm. “You fell asleep, and we can’t be late meeting Ellie. Otherwise, she’ll come looking for us, and we don’t need to scar the poor girl with her finding out her dad has a very active sex life.”
He snorts, his lips turning up. “She’s not dumb—she knows why I’m at your place every night.”
“She assumes the reason you come over—it’s one thing to assume and another to know for sure, and the second one, when it happens, will probably make her puke and then look at you with disgust for a while.”
He frowns, and you can tell he’s thinking hard. “I never brought women around Sarah…” he says. “I mean, when she was older, she knew, on the incredibly rare occasions I did, that I was goin’ on dates, but that was all. I never had long-term girlfriends.”
That’s something you’re aware of. He’s told you about some of his previous relationships, including Tess. When he was younger, before the world ended, he only had a few girlfriends that didn’t last long and a lot of one-night stands; Sarah’s mom was a fling in his early twenties who disappeared as soon as their daughter was born—she didn’t want to be a mother at such a young age, and only had the baby because she couldn’t stand the guilt of the alternative.
“Oh, so Ellie knowing me and being aware we’re together is new territory for you. How does that make you feel?”
“Real fuckin’ lucky I found someone she likes and who understands that she’s my top priority—the other women I dated couldn’t stand playin’ second fiddle to Sarah even though I was always upfront that she came first before anyone else, the same thing I told you from the get-go about Ellie.”
“And that makes complete sense to me. I know I’m important to you, but it’s different; she’s your child, who you’re responsible for, so she takes precedence. After all the shit she’s been through, it’s great she found a father who loves and cares about her so much.”
He smiles. “And that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you—you get it and were more than willin’ to be with me in secret to protect her.”
You smirk. “True, it didn’t hurt that the sex is fucking spectacular, too.”
He chuckles, and you find yourself on your back with him half on top of you, happily kissing you.
Your words are muffled against his lips. “I need to ask you something.”
There’s one last kiss, then his pretty face hovers over yours.
“What do you wanna ask that’s more important than me kissin’ you?”
“Something that I need to know after everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.”
His mouth downturns, and his eyebrows furrow. “Is somethin’ wrong…?”
“No, no, everything’s great,” you tell him and slide your fingers through the curls above his ears. “Has your feelings on children changed? Like, in terms of having more…?”
From the beginning, he was clear that he didn’t want any more kids, and it stressed him out whenever he accidentally finished inside you; you’d think that would put him off sleeping with you again, but he couldn’t stay away, and told you, when asked what would happen if you got pregnant, that you’d figure it out and you didn’t need to worry about him abandoning you—the last part always made you wonder how he’d be involved in your baby’s life with Ellie unaware you were together, and the only thing you could imagine was out in public, Joel taking on the role of your close friend your child calls their uncle, which is pretty depressing to think about.
He’s got an arm beside your head, holding himself up, and his other palm strokes along your cheek, his eyes softening.
“A lot has changed since I met you—you’ve turned my world on its head, sweetheart.” He smiles. “I know I swore I’d never bring another life into this world after losin’ Sarah, but Ellie came along, and I love gettin’ to be a dad again.” The fond look on his face is proof of that. “I really do. She’s a pain in my ass, but I love her, and now that we’re done hidin’ and can finally have a life with everyone knowin’ we’re together, there won’t be any doubt that it’s my baby if you got pregnant.”
Something about that excites you that he wants it to be clear he’s the father of your kid—for a second, you imagine what a child with him would look like, and it makes your heart squeeze at the thought of seeing tiny versions of his eyes and cheeks; would they inherit his elusive dimple?
“I know I’m too fuckin’ old to be takin’ care of a newborn,” he continues, “but I like the idea of havin’ one with you, and I think you’d love it. You’re so good with Ellie and all those little kids you teach. I can tell you want one of your own, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
He smiles.
“Yeah, you do. You’d be a great mom. When I realized I was gonna talk to Ellie the other day and tell her about us, I thought this was somethin’ I could give you; it’s some kind of future, maybe not what you deserve, but it’s what I can offer. And it’s reassurin’ you’re gonna live a helluva lot longer than I will, so I know that if anythin’ happens to me, my children will still have their mother, along with Ellie, who I think would love bein’ a sister. So, to answer your question, yes, my feelings on havin’ more children has changed, but only with you—you’re the only woman I’d want to have a baby with.”
This revelation has you beyond excited—you’d love to have a child with him.
“It’s crazy that yesterday I didn’t know how to define what our relationship was—I knew I loved you, I just wasn’t sure if you felt the same, and today, we’re officially a couple and talking about having babies. At this rate, I’ll be moving in with you tomorrow.”
“Do you wanna?” he asks, looking completely serious.
Your eyes widen as you stare. “What? I was joking, Joel.”
“And I’m not jokin’, especially about havin’ you here all the time. I don’t want us livin’ separately if we do the baby thing, and you know I’m almost done remodelin’ the garage out back into an apartment for Ellie.”
Joel was pretty upset the night he came over after Ellie asked about having her own living space. It happened two or three months into seeing each other, and he’d been distraught that she was at an age where she wanted more independence and didn’t want to spend as much time with him now that she had friends—something else he never got to experience with Sarah and it really twisted the knife in his gut. There was no way the town council would give a teenager a house, so Joel agreed to convert the garage into an apartment for her.
“Are we moving too fast?” you ask.
When you say out loud everything that’s happened in the last day and your plans for the near future, it sounds like you’re moving too fast, but it doesn’t feel that way.
His eyebrow rose. “Baby, we could die tomorrow. Life these days is too fuckin’ uncertain to be worryin’ about movin’ too fast, and we should do what makes us happy.”
He’s right, and it isn’t a bad idea…
“I’ll only agree to move in if Ellie says it’s okay.”
Your response has Joel chuckling as he kisses you.
“Wait, I have another question,” your words are said into his lips.
His mouth breaks away from yours as he sighs and presses his forehead to yours.
“I love you more than anythin’, but can I please kiss you without interruptions?”
“If you answer this question, we can make out—with tongue.”
His head lifts, and he looks confused. “It’s not makin’ out if there isn’t tongue.”
“Do you wanna make out or not?”
His expression turns grumpy. “Yes, so ask your damn question.”
“What would you have done if you opened the door in just your towel, and it was Sandra instead of me?”
“I would’ve shut the fuckin’ door—now kiss me. I was promised tongue.”
Snow.
So much fucking snow.
Ellie hated winter in Boston, but Jackson? It’s a new kind of hell with how much of the freezing, white bullshit falls from the sky to blanket everything. On the days when she’s assigned the job of shoveling walkways down the main streets of the town, she wishes the bite on her arm had done her in—a dark thought, yes, but that’s how much she despises doing it.
The only positive thing about getting sick was not having to work; the biggest negative was Joel and how he was worrying so much he wouldn’t leave her the fuck alone. Yeah, it’s sweet, or whatever, that he cares so much, but this guy literally watched her sleep—he sat at the window seat in her room every night to keep an eye on her, and if she woke up, which happened a lot from the coughing, he was there at the side of her bed asking if she needed anything, and touching her forehead to check her temperature.
Thank god, his secret girlfriend came by when she did because Ellie was so close to stabbing him if he asked her how she was feeling one more time; her friends kept her sane the next day when they checked in on her, and luckily, by then she was pretty much over her sickness, and Joel had finally started to chill the fuck out.
That night, she thankfully got to sleep alone in her room, and it wasn’t surprising when she heard the third step down the staircase loudly creak—she’d tried everything, and there was no way to step on it without it making noise—a sign Joel was going across the street.
Oh, Ellie figured out something was going on between Joel and their across-the-street neighbor not too long after she moved in.
What tipped Ellie off was one day she was walking home after work and had almost arrived at their house when she saw the two of them chatting at her and Joel’s front door. Nothing fishy about that, right? Wrong. Joel was smiling as he spoke to the woman, and it wasn’t one of his fake, polite smiles he does when he’s trying to make himself look less scary and somewhat approachable; no, this was a genuine smile, with some teeth showing, and a rare sighting of the dimple in his cheek—it makes her gag to even think this, but she’d call the smile, charming.
Yuck.
Who wants to think about the guy that’s basically their dad trying to charm someone?
Disgusting.
If the smile wasn’t suspicious enough, the moment he spotted Ellie, it suddenly disappeared—why wouldn't Joel want her seeing him being so friendly with the new neighbor? Probably because he was hiding something; she’ll admit it also could’ve been so she didn’t tease him about having a crush, but the thing is, she wouldn’t have, which is really fucking surprising with how much shit she gives him.
See, she’s not stupid; she knows Joel’s made taking care of her his life’s purpose since they left Boston and that he loves her as if she were his own kid; not to get mushy, but she loves the grumpy fucker, too, and she wants him to be happy, like she is—he’s the reason her life is so good now, and it was time that he did something that’d make him happy. So, Ellie isn’t going to be a dick about him putting himself out there because she doesn’t want to discourage him.
Once Ellie was onto them, it was so freaking obvious that they were a thing—anytime they ran into the neighbor, Joel actually talked to her, instead of his usual one to two-word responses, he gave everyone else who wasn’t Ellie or Tommy. Joel always watched her if she was nearby and went over to her house the moment she asked him to fix something or help her—Ellie’s pretty sure a lot of the tasks were bullshit, and it was their excuse to see each other. Then there’s the damning evidence of Joel sneaking out almost every night; there was a night she got to a window in time to see him sticking to the shadows as he made his way across the street, and it confirmed everything.
He was pretty hush about his relationship with Tess—they’ve discussed her in general, and Ellie knows they had some kind of relationship; she’s just not sure if they were, you know, dating or in love. So, with Joel keeping quiet about what he’s got going on with their young neighbor, Ellie assumed he was just a private guy when it came to that stuff, and it was something they didn’t talk about, figuring if things got serious enough, he’d bring it up.
And hey, she’s hinted that she knows by inviting his secret girlfriend to eat and do stuff with them; Ellie’s even attempted to get the older woman to admit they’re together, but she wouldn’t break, no matter how hard the teen tried.
Then Ellie accidentally overslept at her girlfriend’s this morning and didn’t make it home before Joel, and now they’re both aware of the other’s love life. She won’t lie; it made her unbelievably happy that he didn’t give a single fuck she was dating a girl—he had more of a reaction to her getting a tattoo than her telling him she had a girlfriend, and she’s glad he didn’t make a big deal about it, not that she thought for a minute he wouldn’t be cool with her being with a lady since he was chill when she told him she didn’t like boys not too long after they got to Jackson; plus, the guy was really good friends with Bill and Frank, after all—he’s told her he’s glad she never got a chance to meet Bill because apparently, they would’ve caused a lot of trouble together and possibly taken over the world, which sounded pretty fucking great to her.
The snow crunches under her boots as she walks down the road on their way to the mess hall, her girlfriend, Cat, beside her, chatting about their days. Since she recovered from being sick yesterday, she had to go back to work today, and thankfully, she was assigned an easy job—animal feeding duty, which is both easy and fun.
“Shit, it’s Sandra!” Ellie hisses, grabbing Cat’s hand, “Hide!” She tugs the other girl behind a giant snow-covered bush. She peeks around it, seeing the bane of her and Joel’s existence walking up the street from the opposite direction, probably heading to the mess hall for dinner, too. The other woman is pretty far away, but Ellie doesn’t want to risk her seeing them.
“Why do we avoid Sandra again?” her girlfriend asks.
Ellie’s head turns her way; Cat’s wearing a purple beanie and an oversized navy blue coat, her dark eyes meeting Ellie’s. “God, where to start,” she says and takes a deep breath. “So, when we first moved here, Tommy and Maria tried to get Joel to go out with Sandra since they thought she was a great match for him—she’s also from Texas, pretty, widowed, and has no kids. Anyways, they tried to set them up, but Joel didn’t want to go out with her or anyone else. He was super polite when he turned her down. I guess Sandra took that as him playing hard to get, and she hasn’t left him alone since.”
“So, you avoid her, too…?”
“Oh, right—she wants to be my mom.”
“What…?”
“Yeah, every time she talks to me alone, she likes to bring up how I could use a mom, or wouldn’t it be great if I had one to take care of me and my dad—” Ellie makes a face. “—it’s always so fucking weird calling Joel that out loud.” He pretty much is her dad and she won’t correct anyone who refers to him as such, but to her, he’s Joel. “I think when she says that creepy stuff, she’s trying to get me to convince Joel to date her, but we both agree she’s nuts. Like, I overheard Joel talking to Tommy once, and apparently, some months after we got here, she came over to our house and asked if he could fix something at hers, and he went because Joel might be a bit of a grumpy dick, he’s still a good guy, and she kissed him and was all over him—you get the picture—and he got the fuck out of there, and isn’t as polite when he tells her to leave him alone now.”
“He’s made it clear he’s not interested, and she still won’t get the hint…? Does she know there are other single men in town…?”
“She only has eyes for Joel. I don’t think she’s used to men rejecting her, so now it’s her goal to get him. I mean, she’s persistent. If she sees me or him together or separately, she always talks to us; it’s awkward, and I have to tell you it’s disturbing watching someone flirt with Joel so hard—she’s not subtle at all. It’s honestly weird, and Joel is completely over it. I just don’t get why so many women in this town are into his old ass.”
Ellie has witnessed many women shoot their shots with Joel and get turned down, which is another thing that gave him and his girlfriend away—they never openly flirted, but there is a lot of friendly touching, which is out of character for Joel. The first time Ellie saw Joel open a door and guide the other woman inside with a hand on her back, she had to bite her tongue to stop herself from yelling, ‘Aha!’
“It makes no sense to me,” she continues. “This dude’s old enough to be my grandpa, he’s only got one good ear, he’s weird looking, and after a few days not showering, his feet smell so fucking bad you’ll want to chop your nose off—I swear the only reason we didn’t run into more infected while traveling is because Joel’s disgusting stench scared them away.”
Cat snorts. “You’ve mentioned how bad he smelled a lot.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t un-smell him, and it fucking haunts me.” She shudders. “Now, back on topic, Sandra creeps Joel and me the fuck out, and I’m positive his secret girlfriend would’ve murdered her by now if she wasn’t a secret.”
“Hopefully, Sandra will back off now that Joel’s relationship is no longer a secret.”
“That’d be so nice, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”
“I know you’ve never said anything, but does it bother you how young his girlfriend is?”
Ellie’s eyebrows furrow. “Why would it bother me?” she asks. “She’s an adult and can do whatever she fucking wants. I mean, I don’t understand why she’d willingly choose to be with such an old, ugly, grumpy man, but that’s her deal, and she’s pretty cool. I’m just glad Joel got with someone I like and get along with.” A horrible thought comes to her. “God, imagine if he had started dating Sandra, and I had to pretend to like her and not be weirded out by her trying to be my mom? Yeah, who gives a fuck that his girlfriend is closer to my age than his, she’s not weird and makes him happy, and that’s all that matters.” Something pops up in her brain, and she smiles. “Oh my god, Cat—” She grabs the other girl’s arm and shakes it in excitement. “—what if they had a kid? I could be a sister!” That’d be amazing. She’s always wanted a sibling. Her hands go still, and her eyebrows pull together; she’s lost feeling in the tip of her nose with how cold it is. “Wait,” she starts, “is Joel too old to have a baby? Like, I mean his stuff—” She gags. “—you know what I’m talking about. Does it go bad with age? He’s really fucking old.” Cat’s trying hard not to laugh, her gloved palm over her mouth, and Ellie shoves a finger at her. “Don’t make fun of me for not knowing! What I learned in school was pretty basic, so I know how babies are made—revolting, by the way—there’s just a lot of shit they didn’t explain in detail, and don’t get me started on the awkward as fuck conversation Joel tried to have with me when I started hanging out with Dina and Jesse.” Jesse was the first boy her age she befriended in Jackson.
“The one where in the middle of him telling you boys will say anything to get into your pants, you shouted that you didn’t like boys?”
“Ugh, yes, and then he asked me if I liked girls, and I wasn’t completely sure, so I answered maybe, and he said—” She lowers her voice to try and mimic his. “‘Well, shit, I don’t know what the sex talk is for my daughter likin’ girls’—” She spoke normally again, “You know what, I’m actually impressed with what he pulled out of his ass.” He ensured she really understood what consent is and walked her through what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like.
“To answer your question, Joel isn’t too old to have a kid.”
Ellie grins. “Wicked.” She looks around the bush to check if the coast is clear. “Looks like she’s gone. Let’s get out of here.”
When they get to the mess hall, the mood is… weird.
There’s a lot of whispering and people sneaking looks in the same direction. It only takes her a second to figure out what’s stealing everyone’s attention, and her nose crinkles at the sight.
“Cat?” She’s still staring, the other girl standing beside her.
“Yeah?”
“Am I seeing things, or is Joel really playing tonsil hockey with his not-so-secret girlfriend at our table?”
“Um, I can’t tell if they’re using tongue, but they’re definitely kissing.”
That’s obvious—the man and woman are sitting next to each other on one side of the table with their coats off, their upper bodies turned toward one another, and faces mashed together, Joel’s massive hand holding the side of her head.
“It’s weird feeling both happy for him and wanting to puke simultaneously.”
“I get it. Wanna see something that will make you feel better?”
She glances at her. “What is it?”
Cat nods her head toward a table. “Look.”
Her attention goes to where she indicated, finding Sandra clearly pissed off and glaring daggers at the couple making out, her hand clutching a fork so tight her knuckles are white.
Ellie is delighted and pulls Cat along to join Joel and his girlfriend.
“Please tell me,” she says, as they get to the table and start removing their gloves and jackets, “that you guys are being disgusting right now for the audience and that this won’t be a regular thing.”
Their mouths detach, Joel’s arm around the woman’s back while resting his other hand on the tabletop. There were trays of food for all four of them at each of their seats Joel must’ve gotten, Ellie noticing it was chili and cornbread night. The man looks at her with a close-lipped smile.
“It won’t be a regular thing—” he replies.
“—thank god,” she interrupts and sits down, Cat joining her.
“—in front of you,” he continues.
“That’s fine by me.”
He grabs his small bowl of dessert and slides it over to her.
“Peach cobbler!” she exclaims. “Fuck yeah!”
Not to be sentimental, but Ellie knows that every night they have dinner, and Joel passes her his dessert so she’ll have two, it’s him saying without words that he loves her—that’s just how they are; they suck at speaking their feelings, so they show how much they care for the other with random things like that.
“Thanks, Joel!” She ignores the chili and slice of cornbread and immediately starts digging into one of the cobblers.
“You’re welcome, Ellie—what took you guys so long? We were expectin’ you to be here before us.”
“We had to hide,” she says around a bite—it tastes so fucking good; peach cobbler is her favorite.
Joel's expression turns to one of concern. “Who the hell were you hidin’ from?”
Their girlfriends had started eating.
She swallows, giving him a look. “Who do you think?” She juts her thumb behind her. “Miss Crazypants over there, who—” She turns in her seat to find Sandra still looking pissed. “—might be Miss Murderpants now.”
“Stop starin’ and pointin’,” Joel hisses, and she faces him again.
Ellie rolls her eyes. “The woman annoys the fuck out of us, and you’re telling me not to be rude to her? A bit hypocritical, seeing as you’re clearly rubbing it in her face that you’re seeing someone.”
His jaw clenches. “That’s different.”
Her eyebrows dip together. “What?”
He adjusts in his chair to lean forward a little and starts whispering, “I want her to see us, so she’ll get the hint and leave us the fuck alone—I also want the whole town buzzin’ about me bein’ in a relationship tomorrow.”
“The first part of that, I get; the second bit, you lost me. It’s not like you to want to be the subject of town gossip.”
He straightens and picks up his spoon. “Don’t worry about it, and eat.”
That’s Joel speak for, ‘I’m done discussing this topic.’
“Okay, you fuckin’ weirdo,” she mumbles and takes another bite.
There’s some talking as they eat between all four of them. Joel seems incredibly interested in Cat’s hobby of tattooing people, which Ellie guesses is because she told him she was getting one. He’s probably just ensuring it’ll be safe and that she won’t have to worry about infections or whatever else could go wrong.
Ellie has completely demolished all the food on her tray and is stuffed, taking a big gulp of her water. She sets the cup down.
“So,” she begins, “how serious is this?” She points between the couple across from her. “Is this a fling? Is she moving in? Are you guys getting married? What can I expect?”
Joel swallows and wipes his mouth with a napkin, which he clutches in his fist as he lays it on the table.
“It’s serious,” he says. “We wanted to talk to you about her movin’ in.”
She figured that would be the case with how much time they spend together at night. Ellie’s not against the idea, but she also does not under any circumstance want to know what they do when they’re alone. She has an idea; she’s not dumb. She just prefers not having any solid evidence.
Ellie pushes her tray forward and crosses her arms on the tabletop.
“Here’s the deal: I’ll be fine with her moving in under one condition.”
He looks curious. “What’s that?”
“Whatever you guys do alone in the bedroom happens when I’m not home; I don’t wanna hear shit, I can’t unhear, and I absolutely do not want to see anything I can’t unsee. It’ll only have to be like that until you finish my apartment.”
He seems to be thinking it over. “Deal.”
“You assholes gonna get married?”
“We haven’t discussed that yet.”
His girlfriend says, “I’m okay with marriage.”
Joel’s head whips her way, and he genuinely looks surprised.
“Really?” he asks.
Ellie snorts because the other woman is looking at him like he’s dumb. “Yeah,” she answers. “What about you?”
“I’m okay with it also.”
“Great.” She smiles.
It’s nice to see Joel so happy and to know he’s found someone. She always worried he’d die alone; sure, he’d have her, but he deserved to be loved by someone and to get good things after all of the shit he’s been through in his long fucking life.
She glances over at Cat, who’s scraping her spoon along the inside of her dessert bowl to get whatever of the cobbler is left. She’s staring at it so intently that Ellie thinks she looks adorable, and it makes her smile.
“Oh, are those the ‘googly eyes’?” she hears Joel ask the woman beside him.
“Yep,” his girlfriend answers.
Cat takes her last bite and asks them while chewing, “What are ‘googly eyes’?”
Joel sounds a little too happy, “It’s how Ellie looks at you.”
Ellie quickly turns toward him. “I don’t have ‘googly eyes’!”
She wants to wipe the smug smile off of his stupid face. “Yes, you do.”
“No, you’re lying!”
He puts a hand over his heart. “God’s honest truth, baby girl, you stare at her with ‘googly eyes.’”
Her cheeks feel hot, and she wants the floor to swallow her whole. “This is so embarrassing.” She doesn’t want to talk about this anymore and remembers something.
Joel’s smiling. “It’s cute.” He starts drinking his water.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m cute, whatever,” she says, swatting away his words with her hand. She focuses on him, leaning over her arms on the table. “You know what would be really cute, now that you’ve got a girlfriend, and I think it’s still possible at your age, you’re pretty fucking old, though, but if it is possible, it’d be really cute if you guys had a baby.” She grins and nods her head.
Joel sputters and starts coughing hard. It takes him a moment to speak, and the look on his face is a mixture of confusion and anger.
“The hell do you mean if it’s possible at my age?!” he rumbles. ”I’m fifty-eight, not dead!”
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hey love!!!! i hope you are doing well 🫶🫶🫶 if you feel so inclined could we get another coworker frenemies james?? i loveeeee him ☹️
thank u for requesting 💌 fem, 1k
James can’t fucking stand you, but in a fun way. You feel worse about him, he’s sure. He’s sitting in his car waiting for you to get out of yours, pretending to look for something rather than have to share the elevator up to the office with you.
He hasn’t figured out a good comeback yet for what you’d said about his rugby pictures yesterday as you left, and he hates when you win, because you smile all smug and he finds it adorable. You don’t deserve a smile like that, you’re insipid, and annoying, and you take a full day to reply to his emails.
He digs his hand into the door handle and pushes it out. The winter cold hits him hard and immediate, makes him wish he wore his thick coat with the hood even if Remus says it makes him look like he works in the deep arctic.
There’s less slow on the ground than there has been for the last few days, snowdrift melting in the day and turning to ice at night when the temperature drops. There’s no sun out yet to warm him. He shoves his hands into his pocket and begins a careful trek from the parking lot to the stairs leading up to the office.
You’re taking steps slow as his further in. He’d hoped you’d be gone. He’s stupid for not looking, now you both have to do an awkward shuffle where the other can see, what if he trips? You aren’t looking his way, but he’s sure it would draw your attention. If he trips in front of you he might quit, he—
You’re about two steps away from the flat entrance to the office building when you slip.
In honesty, it's not as bad a fall as it could’ve been, your foot slips on the step and your knee hits the stone, then the other, your hand tight on the handrail but unable to save you. Your gasp is horrible, tight and too quiet, considering the surprise.
James pauses.
He could pretend he didn’t see. But if you turn at any point and see him, you’ll know he’s witnessed it, and that’ll be ten times as awkward as if he were to just keep on walking.
He can’t walk past you. He never could. You don’t get along, but James isn’t the type of guy who can leave someone kneeling on the wet ground.
Foregoing caution, James hurries across the last stretch of slushied ground to grab you. He feels cruel at first, his hand under your armpits and yanking you up, but the ice is dead slippery and you can’t find purchase, letting out another strange gasp as he rights you.
You turn your face to identify your saviour.
“Oh,” you say, breathing funny, “of course.”
“Are you okay?”
“What?” you ask.
“Are you okay?” he frowns at your frown, though they’re of two different calibres. You look angry. James is concerned.
“What do you think, James?”
You yank out of his arms and turn away from him.
He shouldn’t have grabbed you without asking. He probably hurt you a little with the force of it, but he’d thought picking you up would be best. Less humiliating, perhaps.
You sniffle.
“Are you alright?” he asks. He wishes he could say he spoke gently, but your annoyance churns his own, and he’s starting to sound mad too.
“I’m fine.”
“Listen, sit down. You have a long coat, just sit for a second.”
Your shoulders tighten, but you sweep your coat under your thighs and struggle to sit down on one of the icy steps. He can imagine the cold of it under your bum and your palms as you begin to fold in on yourself, and it’s only then he notices the blood on your knees. “Oh,” he says. (And later, years in the future, he might admit to sounding heartbroken). “Your knees.”
You pull at your skin. “Awesome. That’s really cool.”
You sound upset. James finds he can’t ignore that, either. He feels like a dick standing over you and so he crouches, and that feels worse, but he stays like that, facing across from you, hand begging to touch your poor scratched knees. Your eyes widen ever so slightly in response, their waterlines heavy with tears, shimmery and waiting to fall.
“The last time I fell up here I thought I broke my arm.”
A tear breaks free from your lashes, streaking heavy and slow down your cheek. “What?”
“I smashed my arm coming down. It hurt for days, and I had a bruise in a line.” He raises his arm to draw a line across his sleeve. “Right here.”
“I thought you were better coordinated than that.”
“That’s not what you said yesterday about my photos,” he reminds you.
You laugh under your breath. A second tear tips down the other cheek.
“It’s easily done. The ice is pretty bad.”
“Don’t patronise me,” you say. Your voice is missing its usual disdain. You just sound sad.
“I’m not patronising you! You just take everything I say the wrong way.”
“Then don’t say it the wrong way.”
“Maybe we should go inside and find the first aid kit. How does it feel?”
“I slipped,” you say hotly. “I’m fine.”
Then why are you crying? Floods of tears on your cheeks, your hot breath a cloud that kisses your nose. If it were Remus sitting here in tears, James would already be hugging him. If it were Sirius, he’d have patted him on the back by now. It is so, so odd to see you crying. So weird. It makes his chest twist.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine! Just go upstairs and tell everybody already.”
“Tell them what?”
“I don’t know. That I’m a baby.”
He tilts his head, can’t help it, leaning in mildly too close. “You’re a baby?” he asks, fondness leaking into his tone. “Because you fell? Everybody falls.”
“‘Cos I’m crying,” you mumble.
“I’m not going to tell anyone. Then you’ll tell everybody I cried when I nearly broke my arm, it’s a lose-lose situation.”
He’s stupid for talking to you like this. Like you’re friends, and like you can stand to be near him. You don’t look disgusted as his finger brushes your leg, just below your sore cut, and you’re not mad anymore. The ferocity drains from your face and leaves behind a sniffly, embarrassed frown.
“Won’t tell anyone,” he says quietly.
“Thank you.”
James didn’t fall up the stairs the last time it snowed. He didn’t hurt his arm or cry, he’s too remarkably coordinated for that. He lied, and he’ll lie to Remus when he asks why it took you both as long as it did to get upstairs. You slipped and he helped you. There were no heart-hurting tears. It’s a secret he doesn’t mind keeping for you.
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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nightmares
summary: some chars I think would take care of a reader who has nightmares
type of post: headcanons
characters: riddle, leona, vil, lilia, silver, malleus
additional info: reader is yuu, reader is gender neutral, this is self indulgent lol, platonic or romantic, not proofread, maybe a little ooc for a few ones
𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬
he initially assumes you're just staying up to slack off
you are friends with Ace and Deuce, after all
it takes a good scolding from him before you sheepishly admit that you've been having nightmares and thus losing sleep
now, Riddle comes from a family of doctors. he's no psychiatrist, but surely he can find a way to help you sleep despite it, right?
he tries everything- chamomile tea, weighted blankets, he even turned a blind eye when Ace and Deuce "borrow" a sleeping potion from the lab
nothing works
of course, this drives him mad. it seems like such a simple problem, and yet your body resists everything
your grades are suffering, and even worse, you seem like a walking corpse
he takes it upon himself to find a solution no matter what
and, of course, you have nothing to lose, so you indulge him
nothing medical or magical helps
eventually, he picks up a big psychology book and gets to work on the last thing he can think of
suddenly you're having tea and "talk time" with him twice a week at 4 PM sharp
turns out he kinda likes playing therapist
and if you're late to an appointment, it's off with your head
now you're starting to regret being his guinea pig, as thankful as you are
𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫
you can't what?
sleep?
you can't sleep?
he laughs right to your face, much to your annoyance
who can't sleep? it's easy!
you begrudgingly explain your nightmare problem and he finally shuts up (for once)
after a long silence, he grunts something about learning from the master
big surprise, all of his "master lessons" just mean he gets to use you as a body pillow while you watch
very helpful.
eventually, as much as you hate to admit it, it starts to help
having something soft and warm protectively wrapped around you is as comfortable as it gets
you start managing to sleep through the day undisturbed
then nights
Leona boasts to everyone about fixing their beloved prefect's problem, but even after you're well rested, he's still dragging you back to his favorite nap spots
turns out he doesn't mind the company so much, either
𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭
"those eyebags are just dreadful, prefect,"
always perceptive and eternally critical
(AKA he's worried)
he knows right off the bat that something's up, but he doesn't press for answers until you come to him yourself
as tempted as he is to step in, he doesn't want to pressure you to share something you don't want to
he accepts your pleas for help (he's worried) simply because he doesn't want your performance to suffer (he's soooo worried)
he starts out through traditional means- teas, oils, setting your routine to perfection- and eventually starts brewing potions for you
only one per week, he doesn't want you to become reliant
and the side effects can be... a little disruptive
one morning you spontaneously collapse in his arms on the way to your first class
he has to drag you back to Ramshackle to rest, despite your insistence
eventually, he eases you into talking about the dreams
he's there to comfort you about them, someone to lean on (though just for you)
𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫
I mean... it's Silver
poor guy probably stumbled into one of your terrifying nightmares by accident
after that he started trying to subtly guide your dreams back to normal
when he gets to, of course
you're not even aware of it in your waking life, and he has no intentions of making his good deed known
it does give him the tiniest sense of accomplishment, though
𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚
similarly to Silver, he's got a thing with sleep
his beloved prefect isn't sleeping well because of nightmares? he wants to help!
(please let him help)
he definitely won't let you refuse out of humility or embarrassment
he'll get you to rest and make sure all of your dreams are pleasant at no cost!
(AKA at the low, low cost of getting to see you so cute in your sleep. you're like a cat to him)
he will never not be fascinated by you
he's so pleased about being your unconscious protector; it makes him feel so wanted
his cute little child of man!
𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞
Lilia is no stranger to bad dreams
he's lived a long time; he's seen some things
every once in a while he, too, wakes up covered in sweat and tears
he can't help but feel a sense of longing when you describe your situation
you poor little thing!
right away he offers to keep watch over you, as if guarding you from an unseen enemy force
he's up most of the time, anyway
watching you is no problem!
you think that sounds reasonable enough
by night two you wake up in the early morning with his arms around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck
little bastard is definitely stealing your body heat
you don't say anything, though- you haven't had a nightmare since
(and neither has he)
#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#silver x reader#malleus draconia x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader
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Anything she wants.
A/N: HEY YALLL this took a lil long an im sorrryyyy!!! i haven’t made my rules yet so just don’t act like idiots or ill block you💋💋 this was my first time writing in a while and im a little rusty😩 tryna keep up with yall and the new trends in writing tho!! feedback is always appreciated so please don’t ever hesitate❤️💋.
WK; 1.1k
summary: your father forces you last minute to attend a meeting with him to get you out of the house and you meet a certain someone who wants to give the spoiled girl a try.
tw; nothing really, he calls you mama, he lowk a simp, flaunts his money too😒, daddy’s girl, spoiled yn, just be aware ig
• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · • —– ٠ ✤ ٠
“Y/N please come down, it’s time to leave” your father yells up the stairs, and you rush to tie your heels up. Your father knew you took long to get ready so you don’t know why the hell he trying to rush you now when he only let you know of this event a few hours ago.
That was one of the things your father did that you didn’t like much and he was quick to apologize and get you a gift knowing you wanted to look your best in front of other people,he couldn’t tell his lovely daughter no. You were his pride and joy being the only girl out of 2 children. Your older brother long gone a few hours away with your lovely sister in law and your niece.(who you could argue is more spoiled than you)
So now you’re here in the blacked out car with your dad going to some random business party that you didn’t even wanna be at but at least you’ve got your card(your dads card) so you can sit and online shop while your father mingles with his partners.
You sit there scrolling on Amazon just adding things you think are cute to your cart, not even caring to look to into the details. Daddy will handle that, you think to yourself as you add a new vanity to the cart. You’re just scrolling through things when you hear someone mumbling in your ear
“You sure are a spoiled little girl aren’t you?” You look up startled to see a man that should be described as nothing BUT sexy. Tattoos adorning he lights lined body grillz and chains glistening short black hair and he was looking just SO good. But that was besides the point, why was he all up in ya phone?
“An you sure are nosey” you go back to scrolling on your phone now having had moved on to another store until you feel him sit next to you and you try to ignore him but you can feel his eyes grazing over your outfit, you’re about to speak up but he’s quick to interrupt.
“I’m Constance but you can call me Connie , and you are?” He’s not mumbling anymore and you’re pretty sure you hear a little accent but you’re not sure from what.
You look up at him from your phone and introduce yourself but that’s not enough for him, he wants to get to know you. You look pretty, smell good, and got an attitude. His favorite mix. You guys talk for a bit, mostly trying to get to know each other and flirting a bit till he asks a certain question.
“Let me take you out mama”
You actually let out a chuckle at that because there was no way In hell he wanted to fuck with you. You’re too expensive and hard to deal with, you know this for a fact because your brother makes sure to tell you every other day on the phone how you and his daughter make flies come out his wallet.
“You can’t handle me” you say smirking at him and his eyes darken and he’s quick to retort “I’m pretty sure I can handle a little girl like you.” And you scoff cause who tf he calling little?? Ain’t nun lil bout you. “Tuh show me then.” He hands you his phone and you put your number in but he looks confused and excite out and goes to show u other apps.
He goes from cash app, to a regular bank, to a bank you’ve never heard of and then still pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket. “I’m pretty sure I can handle you pretty.” And you can’t help but smile a little bit. “We’ll see Constance.” “I said you can call me connie”
“I know.” You chose to call him by his government because why not try to get under his skin? You look up to see your father coming towards you two and you sit up straight and smile “hey dad!” You start hoping and praying that he says it’s time to go home so you can plot.
“Hi baby girl, are you ready to go?” And you nod your head but go to introduce your father and Connie and they shake hands, you give Connie a side hug as you prepare to leave.
You and your father get to the car and you both slide into the back and he’s quick to start questioning you “so is he your boyfriend?” And you’re quick to say no. You only just met him an hour ago, he was NOT your boyfriend.
the rest of the ride was silent after your father basically played 21 questions. you just chill texting some of your friends and watching instagram reels til a text pops up on your phone.
you had to think for a second about that. did you want to lie and say you had plans or just tell him nothing? you take a second to decide and choose to tell the truth.
you just decide to leave him on read since your ride pulls up to your house. you and your father get out and he asks you what you want for dinner so he can order it and you tell him then quickly get upstairs.
you get to your room and open the door and are hit my a breeze. damn! you always leave that fan on to make sure you don’t get hit but it’s cold as a motherfucka in here.
you go to your closet and pick out some pijamas and go into your bathroom. you turn on the shower and wait for it to get hot and you step in.
you wash your body and just think. did you really wanna go on this date with connie? you know if you were to get hurt your father would handle the situation, so that wasn’t a worry.
you were worried about yourself, you didn’t want yourself to fall for him just cause he makes you feel nice and can give you butterflies. he could be just live everybody else.
but he might not be. it wouldn’t hurt to give him a chance and by now you already know what to look out for. so you turn off the shower and go out to your room.
you grab your shea butter and body oils, to lotion yourself and get dressed. as soon as you’re done, you decide to text connie back.
you can’t help but smirk to yourself in anticipation of what was to come tomorrow. you were gonna enjoy this
#aran ojiro x reader#black reader#black reader smut#connie x black reader#eren x reader#reiner x reader#anime x black!reader#haikyuu x black reader#attack on titan x black reader#connie springer x black reader#aran ojiro x black reader#eren x black reader#eren x black fem!reader#onyankopon x black reader#plug eren x black reader#x black plus size reader#x black plus size reader smut#plug!onyankopon#plug!connie#plug!eren#drugdealer!connie#spoiled!reader#anime smut
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https://www.tumblr.com/dominicfikue/749862083198320641/boxermatt-i-need
wait pls write a lil blurb on this pls pls pls
— come home. ft. exbf!boxer!matt sturniolo!⠀ׁ⠀ㅤ © ㅤ dominicfikue.
this was starting to become a weekly routine for you two— matt banging on your door in the middle of the night, bloody and hunched over as he practically pleads for you to open the door.
you’d put up a fight every time, crossing your arms over your silk robe & telling him to find someone who gives a fuck ( knowing you care.. maybe a little too much ). eventually, you accept defeat and mutter to yourself, stepping to the side to let him in.
“just go wait in the bathroom.” you groan, closing the door behind him before walking into your bedroom to a first aid kit. a pained laugh & smile comes from the brunette who leans against the wall, dirty jokes already brewing in his knocked up head. he doesn’t get a chance to voice them though, the stinging from his injuries catching his tongue. when you come back to see him still in the same spot, you close your eyes & pray to a higher power to give you the strength.
“y’know i have work in the morning, matt. you can’t keep doin’ whatever this is.” you scold as you help him limp to the restroom. a sigh of relief leaves his lips when he takes a seat on the closed toilet. you kneel in front of him, opening the kit and grabbing what you need. “this is the the only way i get you to see me. when i call or text, no answer… so.” he breathes out, sliding out of his jacket & white t-shirt.
suddenly, the air is thick and any saliva that resided in your mouth, now gone. his words had such an effect on you, the smallest phrases reeling you back in like a fish. not to mention, he was half naked in your bathroom! you clear your throat as you press a alcohol pad atop one of many wounds, a hiss coming from the boy.
“jesus fucki— fuck!” matt curses, squirming as his eyes snap shut. you narrow your eyes at him as you remove the wipe, placing gauze and a bandage over the cut. “okay.. stop moving! it’ll be over faster if you just sit still.” you sigh, sitting up on your knees.
“mhm. whatever.. just hurry. this shit hurts.” he whimpers.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 🐇
you place the last bandage on his lower stomach, giving it a light tap to gain his attention. “all done.” you tell him, picking all the paper and pads up from around you. he stands up slowly, his frame making it’s way to lean up against the sink. matt’s gaze lands on you as you throw the paper away, standing up too. “yeah.. um thank you.. for this. you didn’t have to.” he swallows, time around him seemingly slowing down.
“i know i didn’t. i should’ve just let you knock.” you mumble with a shake of your head, your body slowly moving closer to his. matt’s eyebrows furrow, not sure how to feel about what you’re saying.
“so why didn’t you?” he asks, his index lifting your chin, making you look at him. you knew why. everyone around you knew why. even though it had been months, you still loved him. that soft spot you had for him never disappeared so when he shows up, injured and begging for you, why wouldn’t you help?
“felt like being a good samaritan tonight.” you shrug, the eye contact between you two never faltering. a smile and a hum comes from the boy, his hand moving slowly towards your throat. “every good samaritan deserves a reward, don’t you think?” he questions, his head dipping down slightly. your faces are only inches apart, your lips brushing against each other teasingly. “depends on what the reward is.” you whisper, your fingers reaching up to weave through his hair.
“maybe something like this….” he trails off, catching your lips in a passionate kiss. his hand around your throat squeezes the flesh, earning a low moan from you. your lips move in sync, all that time apart and every single emotion bubbles up, causing the kiss to get more & more heated.
he was home & so were you.
a/n: FINALLY DONE FFFFFUCK! this might not be my best work but i’m too lazy to rewrite sooooooo here ya go 😭😭😭. enjoy!
taglist. @fawnchives @prettyvyll @trickywritters @breeloveschris @lorarri @vickyzloserz @gnxosblog @firexovni @tylerstacobell @ivonchetooo1239 @bernardsgf @dracoflaco @strniolo @paibey @hearts4chriss @sturniololol @rootbeerworshiper @tillies33ssss @katluckybear @realuvrrr @junnniiieee07 @imsosillygoofylol @dazednmatthews @lanasturn @st7rnioioss
#𓊆ྀི⠀ׁ⠀ㅤ © ㅤ dominicfikue ︎︎︎︎. 𓊇ྀི#boxer!matt has been born and i literally want him so bad#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo concepts#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#matt stuniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nick sturniolo fluff#nicolas sturniolo#nick sturniolo angst#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#boxer!matt#exbf!matt
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A/N: I am just starting to play Honkai so if there is anything wrong or that just doesn't make sense, please tell me!
A/N ²: This is me attempting to adopt and protect my babies, wrapping them in cotton and never leaving their side... And I got sleepy at the end, or else I would have written Aventurine and Dan Heng too :( If anyone has ideas for Honkai SAGAU, please do send some asks 👏🏻
Imagine... The Creator!Reader in Honkai verse. You were just idly passing by, to see what your children were doing after the Ones you left in charge... Pretty much usurped your throne.
Imagine the Creator!Reader seeing, witnessing all the deaths and sorrow IPC created...in the name of "economy". Such thing was absurd, why would they do that, slaving and using people for their benefit to make more and more when you gave all the humans and even the Aeons enough source to love in harmony?
Why would they destroy people, families, lives... Planets?
Imagine... Creator!Reader's disappointment as They slump back on their throne. They gave them life, opportunities to overcome their mind's limit and be someone to be remembered... They gave them life sources, water, air, planets to live on, souls to feel and think and passions to find a reason to be alive... And yet, there were some people, the people of your Aeon Qlipoth, who was usualy indifferent, deciding that they were the ones to destroy the harmony and balance you had settled for everyone.
They thought Yours wasn't the final saying, that your word wasn't the absolute
How many more times did they have to go through all of the syages of self-destruction before they finally used their mind and consciousness together? Before they realized your Balance was the most beneficial for everyone?
Imagine... Knowing what would happen, even though pain was a constant part of human life, They didn't want their creation to suffer such a fate. Loosing humanity, everything that made humans humans... Loosing your family and witnessing their deaths right before their eyes, only being seen as the sins someone that wasn't you did and being exiled, pushed aside and running away for not to be hunted and all the reasons for your disappointment... Creator!Reader decides to take the reigns.
First, they go to visit a certain father and daughter duo. They watch from the side as they spend time, caring for the horses, playing guitar and braiding each other's hair. They couldn't help the smile that slowly took over their face, watching with fondness at the innocence of that little toddler... Before their eyes met, and a spark erupted.
From now on, as much as Boothill was first skeptical about them, he accepted to have Them around since his daughter and siblings loved Them so much. The little girl often slept on Them while cuddling, her soul immediately knowing the presence of its creator... Of course They didn't tell them everything, that their lives would be over because of Their greedy creations... And of course, the fact that They were the Allmighty Creator they kept telling tales about.
They loved this little found family a lot, with the human body They crafted to blend in, and soon found Themselves attached. Soon, They found Themselves cooking and cleaning around, running after the children with a toddler attached to their hip as the silent affection between Them and Boothill grew with all the loving and fleeting touches, hugging and cuddling, stargazing at night but never leaving their eyes off of each other...
But an omnipresent being falling in love with their creations was...against the balance... Especially when the day of their death too, came closer, and They were the one who lied, although it was to protect them.
But please, they were the Creator, to Weaver of All Fates, were the measly humans really going to stop Them? Take what was rightfully theirs?
Don't think so.
Before the fall of the planet, when all the equipments of IPC broke and the Path of those who worked under it, alongside Qlipoth's, were taken away for some time... That was when Qlipoth understood that they initially fucked up and angered the Creator. Now, another Aeon who had a head over their shoulders, would probably go nuts with fear and cower at some kind of corner of the universe...
But greed? Greed was often stronger that rationality.
Did any of that shitty behaviour stop? No, not really.
So, it was up to you to save and protect all those traumatised kids... And also make sure that a whole race didn't get wiped out.
#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail imagines#hsr x reader#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#hsr imagines#honkai star rail boothill#hsr boothill#honkai star rail boothill x reader#boothill x reader#boothill x you#boothill x y/n#boothill imagines#hsr boothill x reader#hsr boothill imagine#boothill angst#hsr boothill angst#hsr sagau#hinkai star rail sagau#honkai star rail creator au#hsr creator au#hsr aventurine angst#hsr aventurine#found family#fluff#angst#dan heng x reader#dan heng x you#hsr dan heng
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Love notes (Charles Leclerc)
A look into Charles' notebook allows words and feelings to be exposed
Note: english is not my first language. The request didn't specify this, but friends to lovers was the first thing that popped into my mind and I know I'm not the only one whose favourite trope is that one so I did it ✨️
Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!
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Cw: mentions Charles' father and his passing and implications of the loss of someone close to the reader
Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3
"And you want me to tell you that code?", you asked Charles over the phone.
Your boyfriend needed to go to the bank to sort a few errands out, and since you had finished moving the last boxes of your belongings to his apartment, you stayed back to tidy them and organise them within the apartment. As it turns out, he forgot to take the documents with the codes.
"Yes, please amour - it's in my notebook on my desk on the office", Charles asked, "I think I went as far as taking the paper out a little so it peeks out but I forgot to take it with me", you could hear the smile and blush on his face.
"Let me go there - don't you mind me looking on your notebook though?", you said as you moved through the apartment, "by the way, I have already found some space in the kitchen for mug collection - yay! Okay, found the notebook - is it the document with your signature or the one that has the details?", you questioned.
"The one with the signature, at the end, left side", Charles repeated what the bank assistant was telling him so he could help you find what he wanted, "and it's the third and fifth number on the Mobile Key".
"Okay, I have it - it's 4 and 1", you informed him, "those are the third and fifth numbers".
"Merci amour, I don't think I need anything else! Once I finish up here, I'll head home to you, I love you! And Y/N, I trust you with everything I have - I have nothing to hide", he offered, making you bid him goodbye before ending the call.
His words ressonated with you as you flickered through the pages, noticing some doddles and racing notes before you decided to look at it from the beggining.
The first page had what looked like a poem and it dated back to the end of 2016.
My father told me to be careful
- Try to slow down a little
You don't ponder nor stay still
You don't belong or give yourself to anywhere
He said - my boy, you know what you're capable of
The world awaits you, go ahead and smile
You don't want to be left behind
It's not been easy dealing with everything. There's hope and there's the want to do more to prove everyone that I belong in Formula One. Still, I'm happy that Prema decided to have me race for them next year in Formula Two and things should go up from there. Time and patience, work and rest. Spending time with the people I love most and care about me the most.
Y/N also progressed on her studies and she's doing really well - she makes our friend group very proud! The guys are investing on their careers too and it's nice to see that, in a way, we're all growing up.
The page went on about all the whereabouts of the group, who had gotten together with someone, who had moved out of their parents' house and the ones who got work offers. There were jotted up plans for the summer holidays that, in hindsight, were mostly realized.
When you turned it to the next one, the poem continued with the same tone.
My mother said to me
- You have to see what's happening
That girl is much more than a friend
And you don't want to lose her
She reads it in my eyes
Or in my open soul
I don't know how she does it
But no matter how much I deny it
My mother is always right
I really like Y/N. Not just as a friend, but also as someone who I want to share my life with.
Whenever someone wonders how I think my life will be like in five, ten, fifteen years, she's always there. There's racing - me climbing up the ladder to points, podiums, wins and championships -, and there is my family.
Y/N and our own family.
Mum claims she noticed it since we were kids and that right now is the right time. Y/N is single again and I can't afford to lose her. Lose her as a friend or lose the opportunity to confess my feelings, or the worst one: lose her because she doesn't feel the same or feel like being in a relationship right now?
It's funny how this works, how much I care about her and how it hurts me when she isn't feeling well. Or how bad I feel because I keep missing some of her university milestones because I'm racing somewhere in the world but she always call me and I'm right in her hand while her family and our friends are in the stands or waiting area.
Even though I'm the one that's furthest away, she keeps me close.
Charles had notes about you? He always carried the little notebook around but you assumed it was because of important information he wrote there. You didn't expect this.
His words rang in your ears as, while your boyfriend had told you he had been crushing on you for a while, he had never admitted feeling this doubt. Not to this extent.
Suddenly, it felt like you were taking a look from a different angle at Charles' soul. The intimacy and vulnerability wasn't foreign and you fell in love with him a little bit more.
Today is the day to get closer
To face her and see what she says
And if luck follows me
As I'm writing this, I hope Y/N is getting ready to meet me in the park. She looks beautiful in anything, but I'm hoping she wears one of her dresses that make her look like a real life princess.
Maybe we will be happy
What I have planned isn't elaborate, because I don't think she would like a big production, and I hope it's enough to show her where I stand.
I asked maman for some help with the cakes and cookies and got the rest from the shop, we're going to have a picnic and I've decided today is the day where I tell her how I fell about her.
There is no point in hiding it, and Joris and Riccardo seem so sure that she shares the same affection.
Today is the day to grab her
I hope she does.
To be with the one I always wanted
And if the nervous voice doesn't fail
Y/N said yes to being my girlfriend!!! As it turns out, she does feel the same and we both agree that it was a mixture of stubbornness and bad timing for eachother. Now, it's the right place and the right time.
I hope we will be happy
The memory is clear as day on your mind.
I confessed how much I love her and she reciprocated it.
Charles asked you to meet up with him at the park because he wanted to talk to you. The seriousness of the text was confirmed when you arrived, Charles pacing around the picnic blanket until his eyes found yours.
"I can't pretend anymore", he said, "you're the first person I look for when I get somewhere I know you will be too, I can't stand to see you hurt or upset and I will kick myself every day if I'm ever the reason you hurt, which I hope I'll never be. You deserve the world, Y/N, the moon and the stars, and I'm going to get them for you because I love you", he offered.
You had been so dumbfounded that you could only approach him and kiss his lips, cupping his face closer to yours, "I've been in love with you for so long, Charles", you whispered back.
It was the day where your love story truly began despite having existed for all of your childhood. You were his and he was yours.
Come with me, love is not time
Continuing to look through the notebook, you spotted some racing notes with numbers and acronyms you weren't sure that they meant, taking a while to find another page that had similar writing.
It's not even time that does it
Come with me, love is the moment
In which I give myself
Y/N is asleep right now as we fly back home after the race. She hasn't left my side and I think this is the first time she's sleeping since we got the news. We knew it was coming, but it doesn't mean that it hurts any less.
In which you give yourself
The feeling is unbearable. Someone who gives you so much also takes so much away from you when they go away. There's so much to go through, and all of the feelings haven't come up yet.
Maman is waiting for us with Lorenzo and Arthur, and I hope we will all find peace with this heavy feeling together.
Y/N told me the feeling may never leave, it creeps up when you least expect it and there are no rules to it.
Time is precious and I want to spend as much time as I can with the ones I love. God knows I did that with papa and it still feels like it wasn't enough.
The creak of the floorboards alerted you that someone else was inside the apartment before Charles' head peeked, "Hello, mon ange", he smiled, coming up to kiss your forehead.
It's these moments where we're not doing anything particular or special that mean the most. Y/N has given me all she's got and I've given her all of me, at the end it's the most human thing to do. Be there. Be present. Allow the other to feel everything they need to feel and protect them. Y/N has protected me and she's never let me doubt that we are for each other.
"I looked through these - I didn't mean to invade your privacy but I got curious", you admitted. It would be no use to lie about it or try to hide it away.
Time will wait, stop there
"Did you like what you found?", Charles asked, pulling the other office chair to sit at the table with you, "I have this one here that I really like actually", he flickered through the pages.
So I can stay like this looking at you
Time knows well, even time understands
That someone doesn't rush
"I wrote this one when we were on holiday, it the boat", Charles tapped the page, "you looked so beautiful that day and I felt like I was running out of time to appreciate you. Then I spent the whole afternoon watching you and I felt like time slowed down a little bit because it knew I was appreciating you", he charmed.
That looks at you like I do
"These are very beautiful, Charles - this one is so beautiful", you smiled, kissing his cheek and cuddling up to his arm as he continued to leaf through the notebook.
Call me an adventure and come and have an adventure
There were also drawings and loose poems along with some photos he kept of you two. One of the hike you had done in Ibiza last year caught your eye. You stood on top of the rock and by the way your arms were positioned, you were calling Charles to join you in there while he snapped the picture.
Change my plans and I promise I'll believe
That I'm the only one you want to see when you wake up
Your haven if the world collapses
Come and deceive me with that look of yours
The sweet way that trips me and without counting
Quench my thirst with a kiss to shut me up
Make me a poem and let me stay
I do not forget
But I want to hear from your mouth all the words that make me blush
Speak softly in my ear
And grab my hand
"This was last year, one of the seasons where I had to deal with so much disappointment in racing, and you never let go. You were there to hold me everytime things didn't go well, to celebrate my achievements and my podiums, and you still make it feel like an adventure every single day", Charles mused, "being loved by you is assuring, comforting, liberating, soothing, amazing, incredible and the best feeling I have on the world! Loving you? It's as incredible as it is a big responsibility because I have to make sure the adventure is still there and that we're both in it", Charles admitted.
Before the night is over
"Being loved by you makes me feel like the only other person in the world", you looked up at him.
"Loving you is making sure the time stops when you're with me so I can tell you all the silly stories I know just to make you smile, all of this to make sure you know you're the reason behind my happiness and the one behind the longing that never lies when you're not there. It's hugging you back tight and have my heart wide open because it's yours to take", he sighed with a smile on his face.
"I love you, Charles - being loved by you is the best thing I get to experience in this life", you smiled before kissing his lips.
"This helps me a lot when you're not with me, it's like I can talk to you", Charles muttered, "and I get to have the memories written out too, you never know when this can come in handy".
"You have no excuse if your speech in our wedding feels impersonal or doesn't have any memories then", you joked as Charles' finger lightly pressed down on the remaining pages of the notebook, making sure you don't get the idea to flicker through the random pages he has used to doodle the perfect engagement ring for you, smiling at the thought of having you be his forever.
"I definitely don't, amour - I'll make sure it's a good one when the time comes", he smiled.
#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x you#f1 fic#f1 fluff
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reckless plan | choi seungcheol MDNI +18
ꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤ
As you and your friends stood outside the dimly lit bar, the vibrant buzz of the night enveloped you. You leaned against the brick wall, a few drinks deep, feeling the warmth of the alcohol coursing through your veins. Suddenly, a thought sparked in your mind, and without much filter, you began to vocalize it.
"Guys, hear me out on this okay?" you slurred slightly, gesturing emphatically with your hands, "I want my first time to be in a one night stand."
Your friends exchanged glances, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Whoa, slow down there," one of them chuckled nervously. "Isn't that a bit… reckless?"
You shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Maybe. But think about it. No strings attached, no pressure. Just pure, unadulterated fun."
Another friend chimed in, concern evident in their tone. "But what about safety? And you know...emotions?"
You waved their concerns away dismissively. "I'll be careful, don't cha worry. Plus, I have a condition."
Now thoroughly intrigued, your friends leaned in closer, awaiting your next revelation.
"I want it to be with a foreigner," you declared boldly. "Think about it. If it's with someone from another country, the chances of running into them again are slim to none. It's like a perfect one-time thing."
Your friends erupted into laughter, shaking their heads in disbelief. "You, my friend, have some wild fantasies."
But you remained undeterred, a glint of determination in your eyes. "Just watch. It'll happen, and it'll be amaziiing."
As you took a sip from your drink, swirling the liquid thoughtfully in your glass, you added another criterion to your list.
"He's gotta be handsome as fuck," you stated emphatically, punctuating your words with a decisive nod. "And taller than me obviously. Body can be anything, as long as he's got that irresistible charm."
Your friend couldn't help but interject, a mischievous glint in their eye. "But what if this handsome guy turns out to have… well, you know, a micro penis?"
You paused, considering the question for a moment before responding with a shrug and a playful smirk. "We can always find other ways to have fun, right? Inserting his small dick isn't the only option. Besides sex toys were made for a reason"
Your friends burst into laughter, shaking their head in disbelief. "You really do have it all planned out, don't you?"
You chuckled in response, raising your glass in a mock toast. "Hey, when it comes to giving away my virginity, I've gotta have some standards."
Your friend grinned, teasingly remarking, "So, looks is still important to you, huh?"
You simply grinned back, raising an eyebrow suggestively as you took another sip, leaving the question unanswered.
As the conversation flowed and the night wore on, one of your friends suddenly declared, she needed to head back to the hotel, her words slightly slurred, you couldn't help but groan in disappointment.
"But it's only 11 pm," you whined, feeling a bit betrayed by the early end to the night.
Your friend shot you a glare, her expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Gurl, we started drinking at 7 pm at the restaurant, remember?"
You blinked, trying to recall the earlier hours of the evening through the haze of alcohol. "Ohhh, right," you muttered sheepishly.
Your other friends chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, it's probably best to call it a night. We're not as young as we used to be," one of them remarked with a chuckle.
Feeling a twinge of sadness at the premature end to the evening, you couldn't resist teasing them. "Is this what being an adult feels like? Can't even hang out past midnight without feeling exhausted?"
They laughed, acknowledging the truth in your jest. "Guess so," one of them replied with a shrug. "We just don't have the same energy we did back in college."
As your friends continued to express their exhaustion, you interjected with a playful smile "You guys, we're on vacation!" you exclaimed, trying to inject a spark of enthusiasm into the conversation. "Getting tired is a big no no."
Your friends exchanged tired glances, but a hint of amusement flickered in their eyes at your insistence. "Yeah, but even on vacation, we need to pace ourselves," one of them reminded you gently.
You sighed, realizing the truth in their words, but still unwilling to let go of the excitement of the night. "I know, I know," you admitted reluctantly. "But can't we just pretend to have the energy like in our teens?"
A small smile tugged at the corners of their lips as they shook their heads affectionately. "Nice try, but reality calls," another friend replied, already starting to walk in the direction of the hotel you guys staying to.
As you all walked together, the glow of the streetlights casting a soft halo around your group, one of your friends piped up with a mischievous grin, "Hey, why don't you stay here? Who knows, you might just find that handsome foreigner you're looking to hook up with."
You paused, considering her words for a moment. Why not, indeed? The idea of finally shedding the weight of your virginity had been on your mind for years, and now, in your late twenties, perhaps this was the perfect opportunity.
With a determined nod, you made up your mind. "You know what? Yeah, I should stay" you replied, a spark of excitement igniting within you.
Your friend's eyes widened in mock shock before she quickly recovered, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "Just make sure to use protection! We're not ready to be aunties yet!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and genuine concern.
You laughed, waving her off dismissively. "Stop worrying, I've got it covered", you turned around to your friends to head back to the bar, a sudden rush of nerves fluttered in your stomach.
As you walked back towards the place, lost in thoughts of anticipation and excitement, you suddenly collided with someone, jolting you out of your reverie. Startled, you looked up, and the first thing that crossed your mind was, "Deeym, this man is handsome af."
Your eyes met his, and in that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still. His features were chiseled, his gaze intense yet inviting. A rush of adrenaline coursed through you as you felt a magnetic pull towards him, a primal attraction that you couldn't ignore.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, caught in the intensity of the unexpected encounter. But then, a sheepish smile spread across his lips, revealing the subtle dimples that adorned his cheeks. He then extended a hand to help you regain your balance.
"Sorry about that," he said, his voice smooth and velvety. "Didn't see you there."
You managed to stammer out a response, your heart pounding in your chest. "No problem. My fault, really."
As you straightened yourself up, you couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was somehow significant. Instead of heading inside the bar as originally planned, you decided to take a detour, you scanned the area for a quieter spot to gather your thoughts. Spotting a cozy bench nestled in a nearby alcove, you made your way over and settled onto it, relishing the moment of solitude.
Pulling out your phone, you quickly typed out a message to your friends, your fingers dancing across the screen as you recounted the unexpected encounter.
"guys, u won't believe what just happened! ran into the most handsome guy eveeer existed. keelll meee 😭" as you hit send.
Your phone began to buzzed with notifications from your friends, you eagerly opened the group chat to see their reactions. Their messages flooded in, filled with playful encouragement and teasing.
"MAKE A MOVE! NOW!!11!" one friend exclaimed, followed by a chorus of emojis and cheeky remarks.
You chuckled at their enthusiasm but couldn't help but feel a twinge of shyness creeping in. "im shy, u girls know that," you typed back, accompanied by a sheepish emoji.
Their response was swift and merciless. "Shy? Come on, You?! Where's that boldness you were talking about earlier?" another friend teased, their message punctuated by laughing emojis.
Feeling a mix of amusement and embarrassment, you shot back, "hey, flirting and making the first move are two different things! 🫠🫠"
But they weren't about to let you off the hook that easily. "true, but how do you expect to seal the deal if you're not even willing to make a move? go get that dick!🤪🥴💦🍆🍆" another friend quipped, their message followed by a string of emojis.
You couldn't help but laugh at their relentless teasing, knowing they only had your best interests at heart.
With a playful roll of your eyes, you fired off one last message to your friends. "just go to sleep, seniors. see ya tom 😘"
As you slipped your phone back into your pocket, you felt a presence beside you. Glancing up, you found the handsome stranger you bumped into earlier, standing before you, a can of beer in hand, and a tentative smile on his lips.
"Mind if I take a seat?" he asked, gesturing to the empty space beside you.
A surge of excitement washed over you as you nodded eagerly. "Be my guest."
As he settled onto the bench beside you, you couldn't help but steal a glance at his profile. Up close, he was even more striking, his features illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights. His eyelashes, long and delicate, frame his eyes like curtains to a captivating show. His nose, perfectly proportioned, gives his face a distinct charm. And his lips, a soft shade of plum, seem almost inviting, teasing your mind with the thought of how they might feel against yours.
Before you could let your mind wander, you decided to mustered up the courage to strike up a conversation. "So, what brings you out here?"
You blinked in surprise at his straightforward response, momentarily taken aback by his boldness. But a spark of amusement danced in your eyes as you processed his words.
"A hook up, huh?" you replied with a playful smirk, trying to match his cheekiness. "Well, that's certainly... direct."
He chuckled softly, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes as he took a leisurely sip of his beer. "Life's too short to beat around the bush, don't you think?"
His nonchalant attitude caught you off guard, but you couldn't deny the allure of his confidence. "I suppose you have a point," you conceded, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But isn't it a bit risky, being so upfront about your intentions?"
He shrugged casually, his gaze meeting yours with a steady intensity. "Maybe. But sometimes, taking risks is the only way to get what you want."
As he took a leisurely sip of his beer, he leaned back against the bench, a casual demeanor masking the mischief in his eyes. "You know," he began, his tone casual yet tinged with intrigue, "I overheard a rather interesting conversation earlier."
Your eyes widened in surprise, a flicker of recognition dawning as you realized what he was alluding to. "Oh?" you replied, attempting to maintain your composure despite the sudden rush of embarrassment.
He grinned knowingly, his gaze locking with yours. "They were talking about this wild idea one of them had. Something about wanting to have a one night stand with a foreigner, just to lose their virginity," he teased lightly, his words sending a flush creeping up your cheeks.
Suddenly, he turned to you with a cheeky smile, offering you his drink. "Care for a sip?" he asked, his gaze playful yet intense.
Caught off guard by his boldness, you felt a rush of nerves coursing through you. But you couldn't resist the temptation, so you nodded and accepted the drink, taking a tentative sip.
As the cool liquid slid down your throat, you couldn't help but glance at the can, your voice barely above a whisper as you muttered, "Was I really that loud?"
As he continued the conversation, his tone playful yet probing, he raised an eyebrow in mock curiosity. "So, let me get this straight," he began, his gaze fixed on you. "You flew all the way out here just to lose your virginity?"
Your cheeks flushed crimson at his bold question, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "Well, it's not like it was the sole purpose of the trip," you hurriedly explained, attempting to downplay the situation. "More like… a bonus plan, you know? And I'm with my friends, so it's not like I'm flying solo or anything."
His lips curved into a knowing smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Ah, I see. A little adventure on the side."
You couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at his understanding response, grateful that he didn't judge you for your candid admission. With a shy smile, you took another sip of the beer, savoring the moment.
Taking a deep breath, you shifted the conversation, handing his drink back to him with a playful smile. "So, if you're out here looking for a hookup, what brings you to this very spot?" you asked, curiosity lacing your words.
He accepted the drink with a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Touché," he replied, taking a leisurely sip before meeting your gaze. "I guess I just needed a change of scenery. Figured I'd try my luck out here tonight."
His response intrigued you, prompting a surge of questions to bubble up inside you. "And has your luck been good so far?" you pressed, unable to resist the urge to tease him.
He chuckled, his laughter echoing in the night air. "Well, let's just say I've had worse nights," he replied cryptically, his smile widening.
Your heart raced as you entertained the bold idea swirling in your mind. Summoning your courage, you took a deep breath before speaking. "You know," you began tentatively, "why don't we cut to the chase? You're looking for a hookup, and I… well, I'm in the same boat. So, why don't we just… have sex?"
The words hung in the air between you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of nervous anticipation. It was a daring proposition, but the logic seemed valid, two consenting adults with mutual desires, seeking a simple solution to satisfy their needs.
He regarded you with a mixture of surprise and intrigue, his gaze searching yours for a moment before a slow grin spread across his lips. "Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?" he replied, his voice laced with amusement.
Relief flooded through you as you realized he was on board with the idea. As he rose from his seat, a confident smile gracing his lips, he extended an invitation towards you. "Well then, why don't we take this somewhere more private?" he suggested, his voice low and inviting. "My place isn't too far from here."
You nodded, a thrill coursing through you at the prospect of what lay ahead. "Sure, why not?" you replied, a smirk playing on your lips.
As you walked side by side, he broke the silence, introducing himself as Seungcheol. You couldn't help but smile at the gesture, realizing that despite the hours of conversation, you had never exchanged names.
But when he turned to you, expecting your introduction, you simply shook your head, a hint of playfulness in your tone. "No need for names tonight," you said. "After all, this is just a one-time encounter. Why bother with formalities when we'll likely never see each other again?"
He grinned, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Fair enough," he conceded, his hand gesturing towards the direction of his place. "Let's just enjoy the night."
As you entered his house, you slipped off your shoes and followed Seungcheol further inside. The air was thick with anticipation, each step echoing the pulsing beat of your heart.
Casually, he glanced at you, breaking the silence. "So, have you had other forms of intimacy before?" he inquired, his voice low and probing.
You paused, considering his question before responding. "Just third base," you admitted, a hint of nervousness tinging your voice. "Nothing more."
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "Third base and no sex, huh? What were you waiting for?" he teased, his words laced with playful incredulity.
You bristled slightly at his teasing tone, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your voice. "I wasn't ready that time," you replied, your tone firm.
He chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "And now you are?" he teased, his gaze lingering on you suggestively.
You met his gaze with determination. "I wouldn't offer you to fuck me if I wasn't ready, Seungcheol" you retorted, your tone tinged with conviction.
Seungcheol chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, that's true," he admitted, his tone light and teasing.
As he led you to his bedroom, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through you, the anticipation building with each step. Unabashed by his gaze, you decided to seize the moment, shedding your clothes with confidence.
He watched you undress, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed your boldness. "You really want to lose your virginity, huh?" he remarked, his tone teasing.
You met his gaze head-on, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "Gonna make the most of it," you replied, your voice laced with playful determination.
Feeling the heat of the moment intensify, you closed the distance between you and Seungcheol, your hands sliding sensually over his shirt as you asked him, "Are you gonna leave me hanging?"
His eyes smoldered with lust as he met your gaze, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Not a chance," he murmured huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Now, lay down on the bed."
Obeying his command, you positioned yourself on the soft sheets, your heart pounding with excitement as you watched Seungcheol begin to undress. Each article of clothing fell away, revealing more of his toned physique, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of hunger coursing through you.
As he stood before you, completely exposed, you couldn't help but admire the sight of his body. Relief flooded through you as you realized he didn't have a small dick—on the contrary, it was quite big and thick, with prominent veins snaking along its length.
You gulped down nervously as you lay on the bed, feeling the weight of Seungcheol's gaze upon you. Thoughts raced through your mind as you contemplated whether his sizable member would fit inside you.
Lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize that Seungcheol had noticed your hesitation until he spoke up, his tone teasing. "Backing down already?" he mocked, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.
You bristled at his taunt, a surge of defiance rising within you. "Of course not," you replied, mustering up your courage. "Just... admiring the view."
His smirk widened at your response, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Well, don't take too long," he teased, his voice dripping with innuendo. "I'm not one to wait around."
As Seungcheol approached the bed, a mischievous glint in his eyes, you felt a surge of anticipation coursing through you. With a confident posture, he climbed onto the bed beside you, his gaze never leaving yours.
With a devilish grin, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizing kiss. The kiss was slow and sensual, igniting a fire within you as you melted into his embrace.
Breaking the kiss, he trailed feather-light kisses along your jawline, down your neck, sending shivers of pleasure cascading down your spine. His hands explored every inch of your body, tracing patterns of desire along your skin.
His touch was electrifying, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you as he teased and tantalized every nerve ending. His lips trailed lower, tracing a path of fire across your chest, pausing to lavish attention on your sensitive nipples, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through you.
You couldn't help but moan in response, your hands tangling in his hair as you urged him on. "Don't stop," you gasped, your voice laced with desire.
With a wicked grin, Seungcheol obeyed, his mouth continuing its journey southward, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your abdomen. He reached the apex of your thighs, his breath hot against your skin as he teased you with feather-light touches.
Your breath hitched in anticipation as he teased you, inching closer and closer to where you ached for his touch. "Please," you begged, your voice thick with need.
With a devilish smirk, he finally gave in to your pleas, his tongue flicking out to taste you, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body. As he delved deeper, exploring every crevice with expert precision.
A low moan escaped your lips as he found your most sensitive spots, his movements sending sparks of ecstasy dancing across your skin. You arched your back, urging him on, lost in the whirlwind of sensation that enveloped you.
Feeling emboldened by your response, Seungcheol shifted his focus, his fingers replacing his tongue as he delved deeper into your core. With each stroke, you felt yourself unraveling, your body responding eagerly to his expert touch.
Your hips began to move instinctively in response to the rhythmic motion of Seungcheol's fingers, each stroke sending bolts of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned softly as the intensity of his touch heightened, your senses overwhelmed.
His tongue joined the fray, swirling and teasing your swollen clit with a tantalizing expertise. You gasped as the dual sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through every nerve ending, your back arching off the bed as you surrendered yourself completely to the overwhelming sensation.
As you reached waves of pleasure, you gradually let it subsided, Seungcheol's voice cut through the haze of bliss, his breath hot against your ear as he made his request. "Could you do the same for me?" he asked, his tone filled with desire.
You nodded eagerly, your own desire fueling your determination to bring him the same level of pleasure he had bestowed upon you. "Of course," you replied, a smile playing on your lips.
Kneeling down next to the bed, you positioned yourself as he instructed, your arms bracing yourself on either side of his hips. With a sense of anticipation coursing through you, you bent your arms at the elbows and leaned on them, balancing your body as you prepared to pleasure him.
Seungcheol lay back on the bed, his hips spread apart, his legs hanging off the edge. His gaze locked with yours, filled with a potent mix of lust and anticipation, as you prepared to take him to the heights of his own ecstasy.
With a steady hand and a sense of purpose, you began to lavish him with your touch, your lips and tongue exploring every inch of his throbbing length. With each flick and swirl, you could feel him tensing beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as pleasure built within him.
Lost in the rhythm of your movements, you focused all your attention on bringing him pleasure, determined to repay him for the ecstasy he had given you. And as you felt him teetering on the brink of release, you redoubled your efforts, eager to send him over the edge into blissful oblivion.
And finally, with a guttural moan of pleasure, Seungcheol surrendered himself to the overwhelming sensation, his body trembling with ecstasy as he reached the peak of pleasure. And as he collapsed back onto the bed, spent and sated, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you had brought him the same pleasure he had bestowed upon you.
As he released himself, his essence flooding your mouth. Without hesitation, you swallowed it eagerly, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.
A satisfied smile curved Seungcheol's lips as he brushed his thumb across your lips, collecting any lingering traces of his release. He brought his thumb to his own mouth, tasting himself with a low groan of pleasure.
"God, you're incredible," he murmured, his eyes smoldering with desire as he gazed at you.
His words sent a thrill of satisfaction through you, but as he reached for a condom, you stopped him with a gentle touch.
"Wait," you said softly, meeting his gaze with determination. "I want to do it raw. I'm on birth control, so it's fine."
A smile spread across his lips as he nodded, his eyes reflecting a mixture of desire and trust. "If that's what you want," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
Confidently, you positioned yourself on your back, anticipation coursing through your veins as Seungcheol hovered above you. But as he entered his length, you gasped in surprise, the sensation overwhelming you as you realized the full extent of his size. Tears welled in your eyes as you underestimated just how much you could handle. "Is it... all the way in?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling with uncertainty.
Seungcheol responded with a low growl, his desire evident in the way he pressed himself deeper into you. "Not even halfway," he murmured, his voice husky with need.
Holding him tightly, you buried your face into his neck, the sheer size of him overwhelming you. "It's too big," you whimpered, your voice trembling with emotion. "Please... don't move."
Seungcheol could feel your distress, but he also felt a surge of pleasure as you embraced his cock. Despite his own arousal, he was quick to offer you comfort. "We can stop if it hurts too much," he reassured you, his voice tender and caring.
Shaking your head, you refused to give up, determined to see this through. "No," you whispered, your tears falling freely now. "Just... stay still for a moment."
As tears continued to fall down your cheeks, he gently kissed them away, his touch soothing against your skin. "Take a deep breath," he murmured softly, his lips brushing against yours.
Following his instruction, you took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself against the overwhelming wave of sensation. And as you gathered your courage, you whispered a request for him to move slowly.
He nodded in understanding, his movements becoming more measured as he began to thrust into you. Unable to bear the intensity of the moment, you instinctively covered your face with your hands, seeking refuge from the overwhelming sensations.
But Seungcheol was having none of it. With a determined growl, he took your hands and pinned them above your head, his gaze intense as he demanded your full attention.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice firm but gentle. "I want to see your face."
Meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and desire. As Seungcheol's thrusts grew rougher, the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you soared to new heights. You couldn't help but moan his name in ecstasy, your body responding eagerly to his every touch and word.
His dirty talk only fueled the flames of desire burning within you, sending shivers of pleasure racing down your spine. "Your pussy feels so good, baby," he growled, his voice laced with primal need. "Clamping down on my cock like that."
His words sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and as he placed his lips onto you, devouring your insides with a hunger that matched your own, you whimpered in bliss.
With each thrust, he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his movements becoming faster and more urgent as he chased his own release. And then, with a primal growl, he came inside you, filling you with his essence as you both collapsed in a heap of tangled limbs and ragged breaths.
As you caught your breath, savoring the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your body, Seungcheol's voice broke through the haze.
"You haven't come yet," he accused, his tone teasing yet insistent.
Before you could respond, he swiftly turned you over, positioning you on all fours. Gripping your waist firmly, he pulled you closer to him, his hips moving with a primal urgency as he penetrated you deeply from behind.
The new position allowed him to penetrate you even more deeply, intensifying the pleasure as he thrust into you with a relentless rhythm. With each powerful movement, you felt the tremors of pleasure building within you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
As Seungcheol's hand found its way to your swollen clit, the sensation sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your body. With each thrust, his fingers worked magic on your sensitive bundle of nerves, intensifying the pleasure to dizzying heights.
"Seungcheol," you moaned, your voice a breathless plea as your body trembled with ecstasy. "You're hitting me so deep…"
His words only served to fuel the fire of lust within you, and you couldn't help but respond with desperate moans of pleasure. But as the intensity of his thrusts grew, so did the rawness of the experience, and soon tears began to fall from your eyes.
Despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you, there was a hint of pain mingling with it, a testament to the roughness of his touch. "Cheol," you whimpered, your voice choked with emotion. "It's… it's too much…"
But even as your tears fell, Seungcheol showed no signs of relenting, his thrusts growing even rougher as he continued to drive you towards the edge of oblivion. And as you surrendered yourself to the overwhelming sensation, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly what sex was meant to be—raw, intense, and filled with a potent mix of pleasure and pain.
As Seungcheol felt your voice reverberating around him, a primal growl escaped his lips, driving him to new heights of arousal. With each moan and whimper that spilled from your lips, he felt his length growing even bigger inside you, stretching you to your limits.
"Fuck," he hissed through gritted teeth, the sensation driving him wild with desire. With each movement, he pinned your back against the bed, his hand pressing firmly against your skin as he continued to thrust into you with a relentless rhythm.
The combination of his rough touch and the overwhelming sensation of his length filling you completely sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Despite the intensity of the experience, you couldn't help but respond with desperate cries of pleasure, your body trembling with bliss beneath him.
As the overwhelming sensation consumed your body, you couldn't help but succumb to a second climax, waves of pleasure crashing over you in relentless waves. Your body quivered with ecstasy as you rode the wave of ecstasy, your cries of pleasure mingling with Seungcheol's primal groans as he followed you over the edge.
With a guttural moan, he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy with exhaustion as he caught his breath. Despite his weight pressing down on you, you welcomed the intimacy, relishing the feeling of his warm skin against yours.
He shifted to the side, spooning you from behind, his cock still buried deep inside you, you felt a surge of contentment wash over you. With each pulse of his cock, you could feel him releasing more of his seed, filling you with a sense of completeness that you had never experienced before.
Feeling the exhaustion creeping over you, you began to close your eyes, the events of the night still swirling in your mind. Seungcheol's voice broke through the silence, but you were too drained to respond. Sensing your fatigue, he simply hugged you tightly, closing his eyes as he drifted off into sleep.
The next morning, you were roused from sleep by the vibration of your phone on the nightstand. As you reached for it, you felt a strange sensation between your legs, and to your surprise, you discovered that Seungcheol's cock was still inside you. Trying to stifle a gasp, you carefully removed it, ensuring not to disturb him as he slept peacefully beside you.
Quietly fixing yourself up, you slipped out of his place and made your way back to the hotel. However, upon your return, you were greeted by the surprised faces of your friends, who presented you with a cake adorned with the words "I just had sex."
With a playful smile, you accepted their jests, but as you made your way towards your bed, exhaustion washing over you again. But before you could even settle in, your friends eagerly gathered around, shaking you with excitement, urging you to spill the details of your escapade with the handsome man.
As your friends gathered around, eager to hear the details of your night with Seungcheol, one of them expressed concern about your abrupt departure. "Did you even say goodbye?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
You shrugged nonchalantly, dismissing her concern. "It's a one night stand, that's how it works," you remarked, trying to downplay the situation. "You have sex, and then you're done. No need to linger."
Your friends exchanged uneasy glances, clearly feeling bad for Seungcheol, but you brushed off their concerns. "He was looking for sex too, remember? It's a win-win situation," you insisted, trying to convince yourself as much as them.
Despite your outward bravado, deep down, you couldn't help but question whether losing your virginity in a one night stand was truly the right decision. But as you pushed aside your doubts and buried yourself under the covers, you knew that the night's events had left an indelible mark on you—one that would linger long after the morning light had faded away.
ꕤꕤꕤꕤꕤ
seungcheol
#seventeen fic#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen x you#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#svt oneshot#seventeen smut#svt smut#choi seungcheol x reader#seungcheol x you#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol x y/n#s.coups x reader#s.coups smut#choi seungcheol x you#choi seungcheol smut#seungcheol imagines#s.coups imagines#choi seungcheol imagines
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Crush - CC 5/7
Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader
Summary: You are Coach Bluder’s granddaughter who doesn’t have an interest in basketball, yet someone takes an interest in you (based on THIS request)
Warnings: fluff (if you even want to count that as a warning)
Word Count: 1.4k
Sweetbans Masterlist
AN: Hey babes, I hope your week is going well. Check out this cute one for a little pick-me-up!
If there was one thing you love in this world it is your grandma.
You had spent the last 8 months studying abroad and just got back to the states a few days ago. One of the first things you wanted to do was go see her.
The two of you talked on a weekly basis while you were away, telling her about all the adventures you went on and how you never wanted to come back. She listened to every word you said. She would then tell you a little about work - basketball was never your thing but it was very much your grandmother's. She would talk about the girls on her team and the ins and outs of the season. Even though you never really cared for the sport, listening to the way she spoke about it brought a smile to your face.
You had come up with this plan to head over to her gym and surprise her during one of her practices. You didn't want to wait any longer and decided practice was the best time.
You drove to Carver-Hawkeye Arena and parked close to one of the back entrances. Going in the back way was going to be a test to see if you still had access. When you first started going to the University of Iowa your grandma gave you a keycard that had complete access to the arena in hopes that you would eventually get into basketball. You never did but it was nice to have access when you wanted to sneak into her office and hang out with her without having to talk to any of her team.
You went to the door and scanned in as usual. It was nice to know that even after 8 months of being away, she kept your access up.
You walked through the all too familiar halls and checked her office first. She was nowhere to be found so you continued to make your way down to the court.
Peaking through the door you spot your grandma in a huddle with the team, her back is facing you and you think it is the perfect time to sneak up behind her.
You come running through the door and jump on your grandma's back. See, if you had any other grandma, you would never dare jump on her back but yours - you knew she was more than capable of supporting you.
When you land on her back, you know she is startled. But instantly knows who it is as you are the only one who would ever dare jump on her back.
"Grams!" You exclaim as you squeeze your arms around her.
"Sweet pea!" She yells, matching your energy. You jump off her back as the two of you do your handshake. Others may say it is lame to have a handshake with your grandma but you wouldn't have it any other way.
Meanwhile, Caitlin, who had first laid eyes on you when you popped your head through the door couldn't take her eyes off of you. There was something about you that had her hooked.
She knew Coach had a granddaughter that she talked to all the time - Caitlin just always imagined her to be like 7 years old. So when you walked in, it had her speechless.
She watched as you and Coach did a handshake and hugged. Caitlin wanted to know what it felt like to wrap her arms around you.
Kate catches Caitlin practically falling in love with you at first sight and nudges her.
"Bro, you gotta stop staring at her like that, you are going to freak her out," Kate says with a laugh.
"I can't help it," Caitlin says, a blush appearing.
"Well at least try and be discrete about it, that's coach's granddaughter," Kate says.
Caitlin's heart jumps up into her throat, of course you would be someone who is practically untouchable. But boy did she want to touch you.
Coach Bluder introduces you to the team and they all say hello. You notice one of the girls just staring at you. You look over in her direction and give her a wave.
Caitlin feels her cheeks heat up as you look over in her direction and wave. She had been caught staring at you and what do you do in return? You look at her and wave with the cutest smile. Her heart nearly melted on the spot - she is determined to talk to you before the end of practice or before you leave (which she hopes isn't any time soon).
"Are you going to stick around for a little?" Your grandma asks.
"Ya, I'll hang out." You say. "I was hoping we could go get a bite to eat after if you aren't busy?
"I would love that," she says and gets practice going.
You find a seat courtside. You didn't really want to be here for the entirety of practice but it has been so long since you have seen your grandma, you suck it up.
Caitlin on the other hand knew she had to make an impression. Anything to get her to stand out to you.
During practice, Caitlin treated it as if it were a game. She was putting up logo threes, her passing was on point and she was getting way too defensive. It got to the point where Coach Bluder was calling out technicals on her because she was going too hard. She didn't care because every time it happened, Caitlin would get frustrated and when she would glance over at you - you would be smiling or chuckling at the situation.
Her heart was doing backflips every time she saw you smile.
During one of the breaks, Caitlin ran over a few chairs down from you to grab a drink. She was out of breath and incredibly sweaty. She was too caught up in the Gatorade to notice you were looking at her.
"Do you always go this hard during practice?" You as her. She nearly chokes on her Gatorade when she notices you are talking to her.
"Umm, no not always," she says as she feels her cheeks heat up even more than they already are. "This practice is different."
"Well, your competitive nature draws people's attention. Your jump shot is clean, your passing IQ is unreal, and your defense is strong. Not that I particularly enjoy the sport - you are entertaining to watch." You tell her and she is about ready to get down on one knee.
Not only is her ego boosted but the fact that you had been watching her throughout practice, when you don't like the sport has her on cloud nine.
"You should come to a game to see how I really play - we really play," she says, mentally face-palming herself. She should have just stuck with the confidence.
"Ehh, it isn't really a sport I go out to watch," you say.
"I mean if not for me," Caitlin says, her confidence building. "Then come out for coach Bluder." Her head nods over in the direction of your grandma.
You ponder the idea. It would make your grandma really happy to see you in there, she had been trying to get you to a game for years now.
As you are lost in thought, Caitlin decides to test the water.
"You know, you would give me a real reason to go hard during a game," she says.
"How so?" you reply.
"Well," she says as she steps closer to you. You can feel the heat radiating off of her. "For starters, if you are there, I would definitely need to show off." She says with confidence.
"Any why is that?" You ask, feeling a little intimidated by her sudden burst of confidence.
"Having a pretty little thing like you cheering me on, I would make sure to put on a good show." She is now standing directly in front of you, eyes gazing down into yours. Your neck is craned as you look up into her eyes. You never considered yourself short but standing face to face with her, you feel like a child.
"I don't even know your name," you say, trying anything to regain some control of the conversation.
"Caitlin. Caitlin Clark." She says as she holds out her hand you shake yours. You shake her hand and literally shock her in the process. Only one thought comes to your head as you stand there shaking the basketball girl's hand...
You are in some serious trouble.
AN: Thinking about doing a part 2 for this...let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍
#caitlin clark#caitlin clark x reader#caitlin clark imagine#caitlin clark masterlist#22#iowa hawkeyes#iowa wbb
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VISCERA. floyd leech
Held in Floyd’s hand is a single fish fork. It incandesces like a lamp, and when you blink, the contour is burnt on your inner eyelids. “Can I taste you?”
OR; Floyd is trying and failing to confess to Mostro Lounge's new line-cook.
tags: cooking, not actually unrequited love, courting rituals, cannibalistic thoughts, developing relationships, food as a metaphor for love, blood kink, first kiss, wingman jade, underage smoking, culinary crucible (twst), they're sooo in love ur honor
word count: 17,686
You do not like the look in Azul’s eyes. To be frank, you do not think you have once seen a favorable expression on the roulette wheel of masks Azul Ashengrotto wears. So, backtracking, you have never liked the look in Azul’s eyes (even more so now).
This one you have seen before: right at the point where the words ‘I heard if someone makes a deal with you, you’ll grant any wish’ fell from your mouth when you wanted to snip anemones off Grim, Deuce, and Ace’s heads.
Originally, you did not have the drive to save all two hundred and twenty-five students. Only those three. Even with the title Prefect, you could have cared less about NRC’s student body until Azul sought to amp up the risk and reward. You accepted his offer for thrill and entertainment, loving the taste of it.
Now, you stand in the VIP room with that similar atmosphere perfuming the air. Old paper and pen ink, the scent of an odious deal about to be struck. You challenge Azul’s self-assured look with an equally authoritative simmer. Your expressions size each other up like claymores on a battlefield. Azul is the first one to break first. He raises a hand and says, “Jade. Floyd. You are dismissed.” He even sends away his reinforcements in this warfare.
Leaving himself vulnerable like that? … No, backtrack again, Azul is far from a vulnerable student.
“Aw, but I wanna hear her answer!”
“Come now, Floyd. We shall be made aware of their decision at a later time.”
“No fun Azul.” Still, the door closes behind the twins. Now, it is just you and Azul alone. Like two shipwrecked survivors in a rowing boat. You are sure he knows you will go for the jugular upon the sight or scent of blood.
He gestures towards the space between you two, two sofas and a table. “Prefect, why don’t –”
“I’ll stand.”
Ah, Azul thinks fondly, that callousness that managed to ensnare one of Octavinelle’s slipperiest and mischievous fish. Still. A knot forms in Azul’s cheek in vexation. Your audacity and Azul’s are matched up so evenly that he almost wonders if you two share the same Zodiac sign.
“So be it.”
You cross your arms as Azul continues. “A talent of yours has been brought to my attention. I was hoping that we could discuss it peacefully,” his blue eyes narrow, taking your stone-like stature, “without any hostility … But, no matter, it is still worth discussing.”
“I thought the Ramshackle dorm is the only asset of mine that has value.” Your posture shifts, straightening. “If it has to Aduece or Grim, you can forget it.”
“Aduece …? Um, no, nothing of the sort. It is strictly something brought to my attention during –”
There is this thing about Octavinelle. More like Octavinelle’s atmosphere. It clings in the air like a heavy candle scent, suctioning itself to the wallpaper, aquarium tank glass panels, and each stitch of the Octavinelle uniform. Something that stalks like a shark. It is a presence you label: viscera.
A stomach and intestines is a viscera and a viscera is a stomach and intestines. You feel if you ever drop your armor around Octavinelle, gastrointestinal acid will come to consume you. The jaws tunneling down to the belly of Jonah’s whale is just a show of weakness away. It is why you act so callous now.
You always try to keep yourself schooled in the trio’s presence. “--During the Culinary Crucible.” And with that, viscera returns to you when those words leave Azul’s mouth. You feel like you just drank spoiled milk. Before he can accuse you of anything, you speak.
“You were one of my judges. I hope you aren’t going to make a baseless acquisition like food-poisoning. Remember, two other people ate what I served you.”
“I also remember, quite clearly, that you were one of the four students able to get a perfect score of thirty.”
Spoiled milk is too weak of a rotten flavor. You feel like you have just dug into a garbage bin and picked the last mold-crusted food item, all the way at the bottom of the barrel, sponging up all other rotten seasonings. To have something of yours peak Azul's interest again … it is not a nice taste. You are quick to shut down what you know has probably already been formulating in Azul’s head.
“Dumb luck. Floyd also got a perfect score.” Him, Trey, Jamil, and yourself.
“You seem to forget I was one of your judges too. I thought you had a more effective memory than that, Prefect.”
Floyd getting a perfect score could be more closely aligned to dumb luck than you. Which is not to say it was dumb luck. Nonetheless, stars and planets happened to align as Floyd was in a good mood while cooking and Jade was a judge out of three others; it just happened. Your food though? Azul runs a restaurant. He can taste experience and talent on the edge of a fork.
Coupled with your experience and talent, you are not an ignorant individual either. Which is why you sit down, imaging that this conversation is going to drag. You ignore Azul’s smile.
Elbows on knees, you drill in, “So, what? You want me to replicate a meal for you? Getting the twins to drag me here is a bit excessive for another bite of lamb and oysters.”
“I would rather monopolize that talent beyond just one simple meal. You’re thinking too small, Prefect.”
“You’re thinking too big.”
You really wish you had magic, just to reverse time. Even if you were a mage, you doubt you would even have the skill to master such a complex spell. But, you would master it. To reverse time and find a way to get a different judge not named Azul Ashengrotto. The line-up for your judges at the Culinary Crucible was three housewardens: Riddle Rosehearts, Kalim Al-Asim, and Azul Ashengrotto. Grim had panicked at the trio, thinking both of you would be losing your elective credit. As always, you took the reins and got you both out of the whale’s stomach before digestion.
“I was thinking: the fruits of your talents are quite wasted. Who do you cook for? That ungrateful cat-beast has no refined palate; he would eat table scraps if presented to him. Ace and Deuce, neither of them are grateful for the meals you must provide. You are surely underappreciated.”
“Wow, you clearly don’t think at all.” You eye a section of the VIP room in exasperation, close enough to the eye-roll you desperately want to do. “You think – what? – I don’t get enough thank you’s and I’m suddenly going to do what exactly?”
Azul almost deflates. It is surprising how easy you can sometimes manage to get him that way. He chooses to straighten a few pencils on his desk as a means to straighten and iron out the imperfections of his approach. Glasses tilted down, Azul answers, “I mean no offense to your friends. But, I think you are not getting proper payment. No, that I know.”
“Unbelievable.” You tsk, falling into the embrace of the seat. “You think the world runs on money.”
“Does it not?”
“...”
“Your silence tells me all I need to know.”
“You want me to work at the Lounge, don’t you?”
“Yes. A much better use of your talents, don’t you think?”
In your head, you imagine the taste of umami takoyaki. A cleaver is raised with the vindication of a French guillotine; when judgment falls, it hits the thick part of Azul’s upper arm. Which would be more ironic: selling Azul’s body parts or eating them?
Below you, your foot taps on the wooden floor. A restless rabbit pittering that gives the housewarden some insight into your otherwise stone expression. Azul must be so certain that you are thinking of throwing in the towel right then and there. Really, you are thinking of Ruggie. Ruggie and the Intra-school Competition. For that time briefly, he had worked in Mostro Lounge, wearing his ceremony robes.
You and Ruggie are very close, lesser than the trio you had dubbed your own, but still more than your other first-years. So one day, he regaled you with the story of working for Azul Ashengrotto just to fill up talking space.
The situation of the broken glass and Floyd’s moodiness. The situation of the kitchen lacking people and Azul having to send servers into the back to help cook. Those are two factors you really have to roll around in your head. You do not like to be rushed and you are wary of Floyd’s penduluming moods.
Though Ruggie has a positive outlook of the rewards he reaps from that time, you do not think you can handle working in Mostro Lounge. You squeeze by with the money you make. However, “You pay well?”
“I assure you will have proper compensation for your labor.”
“Could you stop being scummy and just tell me the hourly rate?”
“For your skills – if they aren’t dumb luck – you’re looking at twenty-eight per hour.”
You know what? The world really does run on money.
While not an expert at mental math, even you know that with just a twenty hour work week, that kind of money would shift the motion of your boat, put more wind under your sails. Monetary motivation is perhaps the most powerful thing in the world.
Expression still schooled, you contemplate it. Accepting this … you imagine yourself tiny, using a tongue as a diving-board into a devilish pit of gnashing teeth and churning tentacles. Right into the belly of the beast. The conjured up image makes you want to shudder. Instead, your soft enamels move and your tongue articulates, “I’m gonna need smoke breaks every two hours.”
Oddly enough, out of all the times you pressed him, this one catches Azul by visible surprise. “Sm-Smoke breaks? … why, I suppose that is acceptable.” That is far from unreasonable, surprising but not unreasonable. “I’m glad that we could come to –”
“And I’m going to need more time to even consider it. That isn’t a yes. I’m outlining terms.”
“Perfectly fine. I was actually going to outline this,” you and Azul lock eyes. “Just in case what I tasted was dumb luck, in a week, I wanted you to return to Mostro Lounge during closing hours. You’ll cook a meal for three judges again, myself included. Then, this conversation will become serious.”
“I will not sign a contract.”
“This is employment; no contract is required. You labor – cook. I pay. Such is the usual transaction of jobs.”
Despite the feeling of a tongue slimming itself across your spine and teeth nibbling on your toes like garra rufa, you think that does not sound too devastating.
A week passes; you decide to keep your discussion with Azul concealed to yourself. There is this epidemic going around NRC called the lost art of keeping a secret. You decide for your mental well-being that you will wait for a week to pass, serve your meal to Azul and two other mysterious persons, and then, spill your guts to Ace, Deuce, and Grim.
You have a close call though, guts almost prematurely ripped from your abdomen. The familiar feeling of teeth on your jugular creeps up onto you in the cafeteria. Fingers agile, you press your plastic fork into another’s jugular and greet him, “Hi Floyd.”
Held hostage by your plastic fork dug into his throat, Floyd smiles and cheers, “Shrimpyyy! Thought I could surprise you this time.”
“Nah, not fast enough. Next time though.” You smile sweetly..
You do not hate Floyd Leech. Though, he is far from your favorite student. The label of friendship does not really fit on him (despite the fact he thinks the opposite). Out of everyone in Octavinelle, the presence of viscera glues itself to him. Carnivorous teeth coupled with his predator adroitness screams belly of the beast to you.
Which is why you fend him off with a plastic fork.
“Hehehe, next time then,” Floyd grins. He leans in, uncaring of how plastic folds on his pallid throat. “Azul-y told me that ya remembered I got a perfect score.”
For a second, you have no idea what he is talking about. You share a grand amount of two classes with Floyd; you do not remember him getting perfect marks in either subjects. Until it dawns on you, that far-off conversation with Azul, the Culinary Crucible. For some reason, your neck feels warm as if you should not have made that observation; like noticing Floyd’s perfect score is a rude thing to do. “Ah. Yeah, I did. Good job again.”
Floyd laughs; you feel the noise through the connection of fork and skin, finally lowering it at the sensation. “Shrimpy did pretty good too. Ya gonna cook me something sometime? Not fair that Azul is the only one who got to taste your cookin’.”
You lower your voice to a suspicious whisper as a thought dawns on you. “... Hey, why does Azul need me working there if you cook so good?”
Unlike Azul, you had not been mystified by food at the Culinary Crucible. During the entire ordeal of being transported to a tropical beach via book, Floyd had cooked at the abandoned cottage. You had been amazed by his skills, gorging yourself on the delicious spread.
His eyes shift up to the left, avoiding your slight interrogation. Almost hiding something. “Eeeh, I don’t know. Azul’s always complainin’ even though he can barely cook. His food is super boring; Shrimpy’s probably tastes better.”
“Talk to Azul about it. I’m sure it can be – Grim, paws off my food.” You brandish your makeshift fork-slash-claymore at your little beast.
“Ah, but I want Shrimpy to cook for me because they wanna.”
“Heh, yeah,” you trail off, unsure of how to respond to that. Mostly failing to come up with a response because you cannot see a possibility of that ever happening. “Like I said, um, Azul.” And that is all you really can articulate because, that’s a cool thought but I can’t see myself cooking for him.
Besides; to you, love is an ingredient stored in the kitchen. And, to you, love is about finding people to be in the kitchen with. Your philosophies do not synchronize with your feelings with Floyd Leech.
“Mmm,” Floyd hums, dissatisfied with your answer. He watches you place your fork down; glances at Baby Seal who has been watching this go down (Ace and Deuce still in the cafeteria line). “Guess I’ll just have to wait to taste Shrimpy’s cookin’ on Sunday, hehe. Caaan’t wait!”
“What’s on Sunday? –”
“I suppose you will. Bye for now, Floyd,” you interrupt Grim.
“See ya, Shrimpy.” He leaves you with a peace-sign.
Slowly, the feeling of being slobbered on like a squeak-toy in a dog’s mouth ebbs. The indent of teeth loosen with each step that Floyd takes, rejoining Jade and Azul outside the cafeteria entrance. When Ace asks what that is all about, you threaten him too with your plastic fork. Sometimes, a girl has business of her own to take care of, your fork emphasizes to the trio. Thus, you manage to keep it secret despite hiccups.
Eventually, Floyd’s statement does come to fruition. Because like you said, a week has passed. On Sunday, he gets to taste your cooking because: “I didn’t know you two were the other judges.”
“Aw, not excited to see us,” Floyd asks with a fake frown. He is leaning over your shoulder, hands in his pockets, and looking far too much like a vulture.
“Did you honestly expect someone else,” Jade asks, following you inside.
Despite the fact they were assigned to guide you in, you take up the front and walk with purpose into the stomach. Mostro Lounge has finally closed and you trudge into it, yawning. Sections of blue lighting twist up the ceiling like a tunneling rib-cage. When blue gleams on Jade’s smile, more importantly on his teeth, you think of viscera.
Rolling your shoulder, you reply, “Guess I didn’t put much thought into it.”
“At least, you came prepared with some strategy. I imagine that must have taken up priority in your mind.”
“Not at all.” The toothpick clenched in your teeth wobbles with your words. Floyd giggles happily; his contagious high-pitched giggle has you fighting back a smile. You manage to knock the mirth away when yours and Azul’s eyes collide. “You two will just have to see if I’m as good as he claims. Isn’t that right, Azul?”
“Seriously, Prefect, did you come here with zero preparation?”
“I was busy with schoolwork. Piss off.”
Azul lets out a tired sigh. You shuffle in front of him, body like the condiments in a sandwich between six-foot-one eel-mer-shaped bread. “So, I’m assuming this is going to be more or less like the Culinary Crucible. I’ll cook, you three will judge. Sounds simple enough.”
“Yes, that is the gist of it. Floyd, if you will.”
“Here ya go, Shrimpy.”
In front of you is Floyd’s hat turned upside down like a beached turtle. Inside lie about twenty or so folded slips of paper. The eel-mer uses the proximity to touch his bicep to yours. So moving that hand off the point of contact, you reach in. “Cioppino with mussels,” you read from the paper. “That’s relatively an easy meal … Give me another slip of paper.”
“But, why?” Azul questions.
“But I’m not going to cook unless I have a challenge,” you say. Over your shoulders, Floyd grins wide at your words almost as if in agreement.
“Now,” Jade pushes your hand back into the hat before you can unfold the second slip of paper. “While I may understand your reasoning, it is quite late. We delegated to write down meals that could be cooked in under an hour. All of them are easy.”
“C’mon, let Shrimpy pick another, Jade.”
“Floyd.”
“Fiiine.”
“Fiiine,” you whine in a matching tone, looking at the Nunito font spelling out the meal you have to make. You frown when realizing you and Floyd accidentally matched up. Before anything can be said, you direct a question at Azul, “Can I listen to music? They didn’t let me at the Culinary Crucible.”
“Of course. However you wish to go about artistic expression, don’t let me stop that.”
“Thanks.”
From the closed door, the sound of guitar that more closely resembles the sound of a chainsaw starts up, horridly grating. Like a surgeon orchestrating with his tools of carnage. Commencing this operatic butchery of a feast. Body and blood.
Loitering, you start to thumb an unheard beat on the bakery box in hand. In your mouth, a toothpick swings up and down and tumbles left to right like a gymnast. Students file past you to enter the classroom you are waiting by and … ugh, why is this taking so long!
Quickly and a bit peeved, you check your phone. You and him agreed upon this time before Defense Magic class could start. The bell should ring in about five minutes and he should have been here five minutes ago.
Glancing into the open doorway where a long fighting platform and multiple seats await, you consider just leaving it on his desk. If you do that then you can still make it to your next class … you are just about to jump in to fluidly join the swimming crowd walking in the class when —
“SHRIMPY!!!”
The toothpick in your mouth breaks into splinters, guillotined by your teeth.
Cradling fallen wooden bits in your hand, you look up at Floyd with an expression that is beyond peeved. It does little to deter him. Hands in his pockets and brother shoulder to shoulder with him, Floyd stalks over to you energetically, grinning wide.
“Hello Prefect.”
“You switchin’ to a second year class, little shrimp? Defense Magic gets a bit rowdy, hehe.”
“Hi Jade. Hi Floyd. No, I’m waiting for someone right now.”
“Aw, Shrimpy, ya miss me that much?”
“If you were so eager to see us before your first day at the Lounge, you only need to say so, Prefect.”
Oh, backtracking, you got the job. Another perfect score of thirty. You start later this afternoon … that is all normal and expected.
There is this odd thing that has been bugging you though. After you had presented the dishes, toweling down your hands and asking for a smoke break, you came back to see: Jade ate the entire meal, scraping the plate clean like a suctioning tube; Azul ate but left a reasonable amount of leftovers that were both alternatively acceptable to trash or save; Floyd took a few careful nibbles then left the rest untouched. Guess I’ll just have to wait to taste Shrimpy’s cookin’ on Sunday, hehe. Caaan’t wait! Such untrue words. Why even say something like that if he would just pick at it like a finicky child?
It seems Floyd never has a long-lasting objective.
Holding the bakery box with one hand, you reach in your pocket to discard your broken toothpick and grab a new one. As you do, Floyd folds cursory arms over your head, leaning over you like a bar-table to talk to his brother.
“Caaan’t believe it; Shrimpy’s big day in the ocean blue starts today.”
“Yes, I’m sure it will be quite interesting.”
“All that delicious food … I should show her how to make takoyaki.”
“Now, Floyd, she must follow along with the orders placed.”
“Aw, boooring.”
“Who's gonna be training me?”
“I believe Azul designated the job to Floyd.”
“Aha ha, hear that Shrimpy? We get to hang out all night tonight~” Floyd leans in a way that you can see his wide, visceral grin.
A human has a set of thirty-two made of enamel and root cementum. Omnivorous with molars in the back for plants along with incisors and canines in the front for meat. Floyd has a set of forty-two teeth. Quite unlike humans, his teeth are made of cartilage – a human body could never adapt to safely chew with cartilage-made teeth. Floyd’s teeth shine in a glass-esque glow.
And: “you got something in your teeth” you say to him, pointing to your own mouth. Because there is a medium-sized piece of something wedged between his glimmering teeth.
“Huh?”
You watch him momentarily jam a fingernail in his mouth, trying to find whatever you are pointing out. And completely missing the mark too. He is so annoying. It is on the bottom row of teeth, not the top, you seethe.
“Ugh, let me.”
Downward, the bakery box finds the floor. Instead of just one, you shake two bamboo toothpicks out of your pack. One flips easily into your mouth and the other pirouettes between middle and index. By the lapel of his incorrectly put on jacket, you pull Floyd down to your height. “It’s not even in your top row of teeth,” you scold. “Open.”
Your command is ignored. It surprisingly seems like Floyd will never open his mouth again. Tight-lipped and staring, his mismatched eyes look at you like you have suddenly grown an extra head. Then, a slow mounting blush grows on his face that peaks at crimson. Hell, the whites of his eyes almost glow when backdropped by the flush on his face.
Did the temperature spike or something? You are at a comfortable temperature. It is certainly odd – your train of thought ends when Jade checks behind you, “My, how scandalous. And right in the middle of the hallway too. I never thought of you as such an audacious person, (Name).”
“Huh?” You raise an unamused eyebrow at Jade. Your own toothpick in mouth tilts down in ire. “You know what, forget it. Look stupid the rest of the day.”
Serves you right for trying to help … stupid twins.
“Wh – Wait! I’ll open my mouth!” Floyd’s tongue lolls out.
Ah, it seems the temperature has spiked. This is why you try not to interact with Octavinelle and all their consuming ways. And because! “Your fucking teeth! Dude, I just need to see your teeth!” Jade’s laughter grows in volume.
Eventually, a bit pissy that this has become a whole ordeal, you manage to get the piece out of Floyd’s teeth. Both of you share a bit of warmth on your faces.
The toothpick is flicked into the trash inside the Defense Magic classroom. You want to forget all about this interaction already.
“Thanks Shrimpy. You’re a lifesaver!” Floyd gives a big, boyish grin, all forty-two of his teeth cleaned. Pink is still a sandstorm dusting on his cheeks.
You look away from Floyd with a twitch in your cheek. Finally – “Ruggie!” The hyena’s ears twitch on the top of his head. You pick up the bakery box of donuts from the ground and meet him halfway. “You’re late,” but you scold Ruggie with a smile rather than a frown.
“Sorry, Leona had me running an impromptu errand. Work never ends.”
“Oh, I know what you mean.”
And you and Ruggie share a bone-deep sigh, despite smiling, that only Leona’s and Crowley’s errand-runner could possibly sympathize with on equal footing.
“Well, payment as arranged,” you say, going to hand Ruggie his payment when – “Jade!”
“Oya, was this the person you were waiting for, Prefect?”
“Yes, now give that back.”
“You said this was payment? What an unusual transaction. I wonder what it could be for.” He opens up the bakery box. Six different types of donuts stare back at him.
You stare right alongside them. You would rather not have him or his brother knowing that you get study guides from Ruggie. In exchange for them, you bake Ruggie donuts and other sweets. Information like that would be valuable to Azul. You remember Deuce, Grim, and Ace taking study guides from Azul in November; you are smart enough to make deals with less odious individuals.
You can even imagine what Jade would say upon learning you require help in your classes, “My brother and I would be happy to tutor you, Prefect.” Why Jade includes his brother when trying to interact with you, you will never know. You doubt Floyd could sit still for one math equation.
“Keep wondering,” then, you retrieve the bakery box from Jade with a huffing puff.
Yet before you can even give Ruggie his payment, an arm hooks around your neck in a chokehold. Gasping startled, you look up to see Floyd’s fluorescent smile hanging above you like the moon on a riverbank. Yet when he speaks, he does not look at you.
“See ya tonight, Shrimpy?”
“Um … yeah.”
“‘Kay Shrimpy! Hehehe!”
As you walk off, you rub your neck wondering what that was all about.
You are prepared like someone might put the finishing touches on a cake. Azul gives you your Octavinelle hat and apron while Jade explains how they go about business. A slip of paper from Jade tells you the connection between abbreviations and meals.
“But if you have any questions on what a certain abbreviation stands for, Floyd will assist you.” You then asked why you would need help; they all personally tasted how capable you were at making meals. Abbreviations are relatively easy to understand too. Jade simply laughed before opening two swinging doors to the kitchen. A tongue lolls out and on the beastly carpet, Floyd stands, dressed up in cooking attire rather than waiter attire.
“Have fun you two,” are the words Jade leaves you with an hour or so ago, standing in the whale’s guts. Fun? You think Floyd is having the most fun out of the two of you because –
Blood hits the floor and soaks into the linoleum. Little stardust sprinkles of red between both of your awestruck bodies. Each droplet holds such a weight that you are almost surprised that the red splatter does not start burning holes through the floor like stomach acid.
Floyd is bent over like he has chronic stomach pain. Teal hair covers his face as he shudders. Backtracking, he was looking at you a minute ago. Pestering you, he had tried to change what you were making. You were not dealing with that. (A knife suddenly falls in the path of Floyd’s hand.
“Please keep your filthy hand to your side of the kitchen.”
“That just makes me wanna touch your side more, Shrimpy.”
“Then, you must also not be fond of your fingers. Unexpected but nothing I cannot work with. A pinch of seasoning and I’m sure even you will be easy to swallow.”
“I have something else you could – FUCK!”)
Now, Floyd is bleeding all over the floor. The metallic stench has you squirming.
Oh, I am getting fired. Or, squeezed. Or, Ace and Deuce are going to find my drowned dead body. The dumpster fire of thought explodes like an atomic bomb when Floyd’s head lifts up. The grin on his face splits from ear to ear. All forty-two teeth catching the light a certain way. Forget all that! I’m going to be eaten alive!! The thought runs a strangely pleasant shiver up your spine.
Is money worth this stress? Because you are dealing with parts of yourself that you do not want to address.
It is the day after and Floyd is staring enraptured at his palm.
Perhaps English language cannot house the absolute devotion that Floyd stares at his palm with; however, Jade believes enraptured is one-fourth close enough given language’s constrictions. His twin brother looks at the innards of his hand with the same expression when he saw fireworks for the first time or experienced the sight of red for the first time. Looking at it like it is the first time he has seen his palm. It is because something new lies on his palm. A new difference between Floyd and himself as identical twins.
Scheming, Jade decides he wants to poke at that wound. So, tearing paper off his notepad, he leaves the pending order with one of the kitchen staff and does not pick up the tray designated for him. Pocketing work, Jade slithers over to the bar.
With his non-dominant right hand, Floyd starts to trace the innard of his palm. That look of enrapturement is so strong now. As if he is only happy when observing that plane of skin. It even changes his eyes, speckles of their natural bioluminescence floating in them. Enraptured so deeply like black-hole is sucking him in.
“Did you happen to forget you have five fingers?” That does not work. Still leaning on the countertop, Floyd glides his hand contently on his palm. “Happen to be missing home?”
That knocks Floyd out of his stupor. “Huh?” On the other side of the countertop, Jade stands at the most empty bar, because customers seem to recognize they aren’t going to get a drink from such a distracted Floyd. Jade smiles politely.
“You are staring at your hand as if you’re trying to will your fins back.”
Jade suspects there is more to it. And he is proven correct when Floyd tights his dominant hand into a fist. The blood-lamp in his eyes dim just a bit, growing timid … no, his brother is acting shy right now? Mumbled into Floyd’s shoulder when he turns away: “I’s nothin’.”
Oh, this is going to be fun. Teeth on display, Jade interrogates, “With that look, I wholeheartedly doubt such a statement. And you are retreating like a pitiful hermit crab right now.”
“Fuck off.”
“(Name) happens to have the day off. I happen to wonder if that has any correlation, with this sudden hand-staring. Did your hands happen to touch, going for the same ingredient?”
“I happen to wonder how many punches it’ll take till ya have a black eye.”
“Fufufufu. To think that all your efforts to get her attention and employed here; and she ends up cutting you on her first day.”
Floyd’s mood lightens. A lovey-dovey sigh escapes him. “I know. Ain’t she perfect~”
You found out only two weeks into your employment that you were getting paid more than ninety percent of the staff.
(One of your fellow line-cooks spit out of his drink when he heard you mumble under your breath during lunch rush, “twenty-eight dollars per hour, twenty-eight dollars per hour, twenty-eight –” like a momentary mantra to convince yourself to not stress too much. Apparently you are getting paid forteen more dollars than the average kitchen staff. You do not get to speculate with him why. Azul comes rushing in, scolding anyone who does not have a hundred and one percent of their attention on their work station.
When you ask Floyd about it, he becomes uncharacteristically less fidgety than normal. How juxtaposing. People that are put-off usually squirm but Floyd goes comatose-like when bothered.) You have decided to drop it since then; why look a gifted horse in the mouth?
The money is such a darling incentive to come into work that you have yet to miss a single shift. At least, it is never boring. Not that you think Floyd would allow you to wilt in the industrial-ness of cooking in a restaurant instead of tender, domestic cooking. You two manage to have this weird mixture of fun and prodding.
And when a customer puts in an order for lobsters, you are not going to waste the opportunity.
“I’ll think I’ll name him Floyd 2,” you say, holding up the crustacean. Twitching antennas wave at you when his rubber-band claws cannot. Floyd glances at you out of the corner of his eye, golden iris like a supernova star. Just as he goes to talk, you drop Floyd 2 into the pot of boiling water. “Whoops.”
“Shrimpyyy.”
“My hand slipped,” you smile.
“Why’s Shrimpy so callous all the time? Ya got a hard shell just like this lobster. Look.” A blackish-orange, uncooked lobster is shoved in your face as you laugh.
“What do you even mean?”
“You’re a real serious type like Azul. But you were all giggles when you and Sea Otter were riding on my back over Winter Break. You danced really funny at the banquet.”
“I dance funny?”
“Yeah, like this,” Floyd starts to shimmy the lobster back and forth. You take it from him with a smile, dropping it into your pot. All four lobsters boiling, you switch your attention to cutting up the appetizer salads by your station. “Ya doing anything after work, Shrimpy?”
“Just going to Ruggie’s Spelldrive practice tonight.”
“You should come to one of my practices, Shrimpy. Way cooler than Spelldrive.”
Your knife falls on the midpoint of five or so slices of washed lettuce. Glancing up, you see as Floyd washes the rest of the vegetables, he is oddly still. His bandaged left hand clenches around the handle. Usually, he taps a rhythm to the side of the sieve.
That is really odd because his voice is so light and carefree. But you can dissect his body language.
“No way, Spelldrive is so cool. You used magic to control the disc but it’s exactly like football.” Your world already had basketball, but Spelldrive is an entirely new thing.
“What’s football?”
“Ah, nevermind,” but Floyd presses for more answers with a smile. “It’s the same as the rules of Spelldrive. Instead of using brooms, you run. And, the control that the players have on their magic plus the second and third years who ride brooms are super impressive. The level of mastery is … on another level!”
Floyd’s face twists at that. “It’s just ridin’ a broom. Ain’t so hard.”
“I thought you, your brother, and Azul were bad at riding brooms. Y’know, sea legs and all that.”
“I’m waaay better than those two.”
“Whatever you say,” you dismiss the conversation just as you slide the cut lettuce into two bowls. You want to drop the conversation and work on the next entree. Floyd does not share that sentiment.
Shaking water out of the sieve, he whines, “Spelldrive’s so boooring. It just a bunch of guys throwin’ around a disk.”
“And basketball is just a bunch of guys passing around a ball.”
“C’mon Shrimpyyy.” You are uncertain as to why, but you kind of don’t like the sight of Floyd frowning.
“I guess I could make the time to attend one practice.” Floyd lights up at that. Evangelical light shines in his mouth. Something boils over in you like the stove’s temperature has been turned up.
You are being eaten alive. It is not so bad.
However, backtracking, it starts with kisses.
Whoever is kissing you – crowding above you like a nebulous night sky and draping each warm star finger on the cold surface of your face, mandible to cheekbone – has never kissed anyone before. And it is surprisingly endearing to you. Having to guide the night to properly understand kissing is not biting. Tentatively having to pinch or pull hair when a tongue ventures too far down your throat or a pair of needle teeth bite too hard on your lips. This is how it starts.
Happiness is like the calcium in your bones. You are awfully pleased to be kissing this pair of midnight lips. Speed of kissing escalates and deescalates in intervals; sometimes, the two of you press into each other like you are afraid one of you will leave come morning before falling into slow pecks like time has suddenly become infinite.
In this anonymous kissing, you lie happy on some hard, uncomfortable surface. But with how elevated you feel, it feels like a cloud is cradling your body. Euphoria is a well-versed painkiller.
Peppermint burns your nostrils as the face above you gasps. Ah, despite how you had been chiding off teeth on your lips, you are the one that actually breaks skin. Three pupils of blood fall on your closed lips. Your sheepish tongue pokes out and licks red rain away. Blood falls into the sizzling grill of your mouth and you gasp in response.
Taste is categorized into five groups. This tastes like a sixth. Suddenly, all other tastes pale in comparison. The revelation makes you shudder, each bone vibrating.
You never want to taste anything else. You will never pick up a cigarette if you get to taste this again.
The taste gradually dims when the face finally pulls away, revealing who you are kissing. “Floyd?” Spherical blood sits, a tiny cherry, on the middle of his bottom lip. He blushes like he is sunburnt by your attentive eyes. Before you can ask why he is kissing you, Floyd leans back, sitting on his haunches.
You two are laid on a table. The table stretches so far out into the distance that it enters a void. Behind Floyd, it shrinks down until it blurs away; when you tilt your head back, it fades due to distance. The range of your eyesight cannot comprehend the length of the surface.
Everything else is swallowed and lost to the chewing void. When you tilt your head left and right, tenebrous ebon greets you like a wall. Your eyes are magnetized to the only light source now that Floyd’s lips are too far away to kiss.
Held in Floyd’s hand is a single fish fork. It incandesces like a lamp, and when you blink, the contour is burnt on your inner eyelids.
Puffy, swollen lips move to speak but Floyd beats you to the punch. Out of his mouth falls an even sweeter palate beyond his blood. Your real name – in his voice, nasally, a bit lightfully high-pitched, a bit annoying and a bit liberating – on his tongue, pronounced and said with a hefty weight.
“(Name).”
“Yeah?” You answer, breathless from kisses and that word.
“Can I taste you?”
You think back to how each of you were feasting on each other in your liplock, a sudden amorous meal.
“Yeah.”
Instead of him leaning down, the fish fork in Floyd’s hand starts to move. Your eyes track it with intrigue. Beyond the valley of your chest, you are caught off guard seeing your button-up undone and open like wings. Into an abyss known as the midline sternotomy, Floyd’s fish fork digs in.
A dog-esque whimper falls from your lips. The toes of your right foot curl behind Floyd when you feel a fork scraping past rib bones. Three prongs pierce convulsing muscle tissue. Lithe fingers twist the utensil. Arousal coats like goosebumps on your flesh as a section of you is taken. Eyelids half mast, you watch Floyd bring the red fork to his lips. A section of still-beating, still-drumming muscle disappears into his mouth.
This is more intense than the kissing, that you wake up on fire.
The fire is metaphorical but the engrossing heat that blankets your entire body is not. In Ramshackle’s bed, you kick awake breathlessly. The pillow you were squeezing gives a wheeze of pain when you hug it to yourself tighter. Propping yourself on your elbows, blinking away a dream, you groan. “Oh fuuuck no.” In your chest, your tell-tale heart pounds.
You fall right back on the embrace of your pillow as it mimics the feel of a lover’s chest. Silk and the fire in your face collide in a burn. As chunks of your dream expand or delete away, you consider the heavy weight of … everything.
Floyd.
Floyd was eating your heart. Your face smolders on your pillow – you refuse to dwell on the implications of that.
You dwell on the implications, almost ruminating. In your quad-'apartment stomach, the rumen and reticulum digests the dream, the omasum allows the dream to filter into your bloodstream, and the abomasum finishes up your dream analysis. You metaphorically puke in your own mouth the entire morning, ruminating.
When the taste becomes too much, you hunt down Jade.
Stalking halls with eyes and nose trained for locating only him. And when you do, you do not busy yourself with the subtlety of a prowl. You launch right in on the attack. Stabbing him with a question even though he has a forkful of something in his mouth, “What’s Floyd’s deal?”
Caught off guard, Jade blinks at you. It is rare for such a blank look to cross his face that you are almost unnerved. Then, he pulls the fork from his mouth, chewing and dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean. My brother and Azul are not under contract.”
“Not a real deal – ugh, Jade, you know what I mean.”
Sharpened teeth make a beastly smile. A shiver tiptoes up your spine like a spider.
Turning back to his meal, Jade brushes off your response with, “Vagueness is one step away from misunderstanding. You should clarify for your own sake.”
He lifts up his fork and your eyes fall to the cafeteria table. Right now, you are on a fake bathroom break during astrology. Azul and Floyd have lunch together while Jade has a separate lunch. It is the perfect time to strangle information out of him, and, like a good predator, you should not waste time on prowling or stalking but –
“I don’t understand how you can eat like that and remain that skinny.”
As a cook, you are well-versed in the balancing of meals. To be frank, Jade’s lunch probably has the most optimal nutrition in terms of carbohydrates, protein, and vegetables. However, lunches are standardly medium-sized. In front of him lies a caesar salad stuffed with chicken, BLT sandwich, and an egg salad lettuce wrap. He’s three-fourth done with the caesar salad and sure to dig into the rest.
“Metabolism is a fascinating genetic function.”
“If I can convince Crewel to make a body-swapping potion, how about a quick switch for a day?” You can only imagine how cultured Jade’s tongue is.
“You in my body and I in yours. Floyd would have a field day with that.”
“Oh my god, what does that mean!”
Jade chuckles at your boiling worry. One hundred and one spine-chilling scenarios flash in your head. Backtracking, you vow to never give your autonomy to Jade Leech of all people. It will only end in misfortune for you. Scolding, you seethe, “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. Your smile’s too creepy.”
“I’m not thinking about anything in particular. I’ll let you ruminate on it however. I’m sure you can think of much more than I can.”
“You’re the worst.”
Jade gives a musical hum and forks the last bit of his salad into his mouth. “You know, I could ask the same question: What’s your deal?” His yellow left eye sharpens, taking in the space where you disrupt the atmosphere. Remembering what that evil star could reel out your throat (truth, awful truths you have not made peace with), you scoot back on the table’s seat.
The mental image is odious. Jade’s hand hovering over your salivating mouth with the other holds your chin skyward; his fist clenches around a fishing line, yanking; he scoops up everything you keep concealed as you cough up blood like a weak geyser. A violent image. Yet, violence absent of any amatory intent. (So unlike your dream with Floyd.)
Putting distance between you two like a panicked crab, you mutter, “What do you mean?”
“You are good friends with Riddle Rosehearts, yes? You should know that he never indulges Floyd’s whims; he would never agree to working in the same Lounge as Floyd either. Yet, the two of you have gotten quite cozy.”
“I never voluntarily approach him. I work there for the cash.”
“Hm, perhaps. However, you do not shy away when he approaches you. Why is that? What is your deal?”
“We’re supposed to be talking about Floyd’s deal.”
“Alright. Then, let us talk about it.”
“Lets!”
“How do you find his disposition? Too wholesome, too loathsome? You two seem to be becoming fast friends … ah, but that is just my humble, little opinion. No need to look so upset.”
“Floyd is … Floyd … he’s viscera.”
“I assure you my brother has other anatomy beyond his stomach.” As Jade says, he unwraps his egg salad lettuce wrap. The smell burns your nose. You get the egg-scented message that such a description could match Jade with his bottomless stomach.
“No, it’s not literal. It’s – Being around him feels like being in the belly of the beast.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why don't you give me an example?”
“You know what? Okay.” You contemplate for a moment, thumbing through the notecards of your memory. Finally getting it, you snap your fingers. “Okay! Okay. Last week, Tuesday, during my shift. He stood behind me the entire four hours of my shift. Like I mean, stood there. Just breathing down my neck, all pissed off. I thought he was going to take a bite out of me, Jade!”
Ah, Jade remembers that day well. It was the day you had a laundry mishap, procrastinating on the chore to the point where you had no clean slacks. Nothing too interesting – so what you forgot to do laundry, that happens in the life of a busy Prefect! The only thing is:
(“Shrimpy’s wearing leggings! Shrimpy’s – fuck!”
Jade looks up from his paperwork, hovering over Azul’s shoulder. Holed up in the VIP room, he and Azul are going over the month’s numbers of hours delegated to the staff. Measuring punchcard times and figuring where to subtract or add hours for each staff member. Numbers on papers become quite boring when Jade sees the state his brother is in.
“Floyd. Do not knock over the table.” Strife laces Azul’s voice.
Sprawled on the ground, Floyd half-sits and half-kneels on the violet carpet. In his excitement, he had bumped into the table set between the two couches. Pushing himself up, the grin on Floyd’s face is mammoth and energized. “Shrimpy’s wearing leggings!”
So it seems you were, Jade would find out later. Skin-tight leggings; black with flared bottoms. You had walked in with your button-up untucked to hide what Floyd cites is the prettiest ass he has ever seen. That particular article of clothing left little to the imagination – snug so tightly on each tantalizing curve of yours.
“Is that so,” Jade asks, having yet to see you during your shift. Looking at the clock, he notices that you have only been clocked in for about three minutes.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Floyd breathes starstruck, hand clutched to his wrinkled shirt.
With that, an evil thought comes into Jade’s head.
“I am sure today will be an equally blissful day for the staff of Mostro Lounge.”
“Huh? What ya mean?”
“I mean, she is not invisible. Obviously, if she is such a sight to behold, the staff will be looking as well.”
Jade puts his own hand up to his heart, polite smile on his lips, and closes his eyes. He reopens them when the VIP room door slams shut – the wind carrying Floyd’s worsening mood and threats against the entire staff. The clock shows you are only four minutes into your four hour shift. The politeness of his smile morphs into something sinisterly serene as if a cunning plan of his has come to fruition. And it has, in just a few small minutes.
Ah, what an unfortunate start to your shift it seems. Fufufu.)
But it was far from unfortunate for Jade, who chuckled every time he opened the kitchen door to see Floyd standing protectively behind you, crowding around you to cover you up while refusing to let you reach for anything on a high shelf. He would bare his teeth at whoever glanced in your direction for mere seconds.
“I doubt he would have bitten you,” Jade placates, not wanting you to misread Floyd’s intent.
Emphasizing each word, you seethe, “He was breathing down my neck. He sounded one breath away from tearing apart my jugular!” Even though Jade seems to be reminiscing, he is obviously looking back through with a damaged pair of glasses – one temple broken off and one lens cracked.
You remember it much better: the wind-chill of a predator’s breath kissing your cervical; the uneven, spontaneous growls that would bloom behind your ear and have you pressing tighter to the stove; the intimate fear pierced into your spine through the morbid surgery of Floyd’s presence. You still wonder what you did to upset him so badly that he felt the need to monitor you for your entire shift.
“Listen,” your face pulls into a frown as you stare down Jade. “Your brother has life sorted into two categories: fun and boring. I’m in a category I don’t want to be in. Just tell me what I need to do to make myself unappetizing to him.”
So I don’t have another dream like that ever again.
“Ah,” Jade puts on a mask like he is going to tell you devastating news. “I’m afraid you’re quite a delicacy to him. Floyd has always been known to hold on tight to his food and eat in painful little bites. How unfortunate for you~”
You hang your head like the strife of Floyd is a guillotine snapping the cervical bones in your neck. To be so consumed by him like this mentally … it’s tearing you up inside.
“If I may pry, why are you so insistent on knowing about my brother? I sincerely hope it is not for ill intents, dear Prefect.” You are starting to catch onto the theme that most of Jade’s smiles are just threatening.
Insistent? Out of the two of you, Floyd is the insistent one, binding himself tight around you. But – you still Jade’s words linger in your mind. Why were you so insistent … You imagine a fake reality where you answer his question with, ‘because I burnt food for the first time in my entire life this morning. Because this morning, I ate overdone scrambled eggs that crunched in my mouth like pretzels. Because I think I’ve unknowingly developed a crush on him and it hit me so hard this morning that Ramshackle would have gone up in smoke if Grim and the ghosts took a minute longer to notice the burning stove.’
Instead, you answer, “Just want my peace of mind back.”
It is a partial truth that Jade does not have to use hooks to create red, wet aqueducts in your throat to get the answer. No need to use magic like Shock the Heart on you; you have already had your heart-attack this morning!
“I sincerely think there is more to it than that.”
“I promise that is it. I want to know Floyd’s deal to get him off my back.”
“See, but you’re acting in such a contradictory way, Prefect. Perhaps I should use something to loosen your tongue. Holding so many barnacles of thoughts in your head must be tiring.” His left eye starts to fluctuate with pulsing gleams.
“OH! Would you look at the time! My bathroom break – it’s uh! I’m gonna be late for class! Bye Jade!!” You race off mouse-esque.
You have not seen Floyd today … which is admittedly very nice.
At least I only had to put up with one fake eel and one real eel today. Two real eels is too many, you think as you pluck a tender cigarette from the package. Despite having a closing shift, you have yet to see Floyd since he invaded your dreams. A beady eye of red is born as you pocket your lighter. Breathing in, you contemplate on this slight blessing.
Apparently, Floyd has been neglecting schoolwork for the past week.
Whenever he was on his laptop, Jade mistakenly thought Floyd was doing his assignments. Turns out for seven nights he had been browsing GOAT for shoes and organizing each one on documents – so his typing mimicked the sound of doing assignments. Caring in a far too sinister way, Jade has locked Floyd in their room with a spell too advanced for it to be broken by one mage.
(“I don’t quite understand why he even would look at shoes; you see, he’s low on cash at the moment. Oh, but I am truly sorry to have to separate you two tonight.” Jade apologizes as if you are upset over the matter. Your deadpan look is far from mournful.
“However, I told him I would let him out when he has at least completed three-fourths. I believe he should be successful as long as he can find the correct playlist.” Jade’s yellow eye gleams at you, almost winking. “Plus, he has proper motivation to finish up sooner.”
“The hell –? I just asked if I could go on my smoke break.”
“Yes, but your constipated expression told me that you had more on your mind. Besides, isn’t this part of Floyd’s ‘deal’? His day to day – I thought I’d graciously keep you updated.”
You flip him off as you walk out the backroom.) Now here you sit, a wall embracing your back.
Usually, you would stand but you think you might mistakenly pour cement in your shoes. Soreness is like molten lead in your bloodstream, weighing you down. You have never felt such agony in your hamstrings and thighs. Thus, you sit on an awful, treacherous thought.
Would Floyd accept any study-guides you get from Ruggie?
There are multiple faucets to why this is a cretinous thought. Wouldn’t Azul have study-guides for the twins; would Floyd swallow his pride to accept anything; did Ruggie even have the topics that Floyd was struggling with – because you have no idea which schoolwork Floyd is skimping out on! Like you said, it is a cretinous thought. For some reason though, you would really like to help Floyd – paying back nothing yet paying back everything too.
Your blooming cloud of smoke asks Why am I acting so selfless for a selfish eel before it evaporates slowly into the oceanic air. There is not really any sensible answer hidden in your soul.
Twisted Wonderland is without a doubt as senseless as your soul. Even now, where you sit smoking is so world-shatteringly different from the typical ‘go out back and smoke’ area. The Octavinelle dorm is enveloped in water. The night sky outside of Mostro Lounge is a unique pocket that isn’t really a pocket at all. In a bubble, on the edge of a cliff that dips down into black, you sit staring at the swimming stars of fish.
Even the classes are an oddity. The two classes you share with Floyd are Art and History of Magic. As far as you have observed, he does well in both of those subjects. So, you doubt he needs a study-guide for either.
Which subject could it be: Astrology, Magic Analysis, Ancient Curses –
A pair of arms wrap serpentine around your shoulders. The anaconda has bound around his unexpecting prey. As a passenger to your train of thoughts, your mind goes blissfully blank. It is an odd sensation: to have been ruminating the entire day over a dream and when confronted with the only corporal part of the dream, you feel at peace..
You breathe out a dragon’s breath and a greeting, “Hi Floyd.”
Mmmmmmph. Is the response spoken into your right shoulder. Reaching behind, you take the hand still pinching your cigarette and stiffly pat the top of Floyd’s head, sharing his tired-tinted sentiment.
You have been eating your heart out, and puking in your mouth all morning. It is an exhausting activity, anguishing yourself over a silly dream, over your dream. “Did you get all your work done?” You stop petting teal hair to return your cigarette between your lips.
Mmmmmph! Anaconda-esque embrace squeezing tighter and tighter, you are really unsure of how you should take that sentiment. It sounds more frustrated than anything – can you share in Floyd’s frustration? Heartbeat lines of waves fall over you two from the overhanging light. No, you have transferred all your strife out of like the emotion is but a colony of bees smoked out of a hive.
When tobacco and paper wrapping has burnt away to about halfway, you receive a clearer insight to Floyd’s misery. “I’m never lookin’ at stars again.”
“Ah, astrology.”
“Mmmguuuh.”
Throat-held vibrations tickle against your shoulder. Floyd depresses his face on the ledge of your collarbone, weight so crushing like he wants to melt into you. Pinioned up in his grip, you just accept the heat of his cheek and the rhythm of his groans.
Pretending to hold an intelligent conversation: “Totally agree with you there. Stupid scorpion.” Ash is tapped off the side of your steel-toed work boots. “I’m a –” then you tell Floyd which animal/symbol aligns up with your Zodiac.
The weight on your shoulder ebbs slowly as Floyd lifts himself up. Then, his bony chin digs into your shoulder causing you to squirm. Arms tighten to stop your earthworm motions and Floyd remarks sleepily, “Mmm, I like shrimps better.”
“You know I can never wrap my head around that nickname. I get why Grim’s a seal because he’s shaped similarly. I don’t get mine. Eels eat shrimp or something?”
“ – Or something.”
“That’s vague.”
“What? Ya want me to eat ya, Shrimpy?”
In cartoons, when a character is punched in the face, stars start to prance and bounce around their head. Floyd’s words are equivalent to a face-impacting wallop. Words crash into you with all the grace of a burning space-shuttle ripping through air. BANG! Bunny-esque stars start to dance around your head, reeling as if all those letters had condensed into a fist.
Lightning of pain branches across your face, and you only get to save yourself by doing one thing. You turn your head to where Floyd’s chin perches and blow smoke into his face. As he falls back, coughing up a storm, you quickly work to get control of the weather inside you.
The turbulent sea of a crush is something calamitous. Lunar shadow-waves tilt across Floyd’s body as you breathe in more smoke. Still coughing, Floyd grumbles, “Why do - ack - ya do that? Smells funky.”
“No asking questions if you don’t answer questions.”
Elbow protecting his nose and eyes seething, he grumbles again, “I told ya, or something.”
“Not good enough. I don’t like roundabout answers.”
“Shrimpyyy.”
“Hey, no calling me that if you can’t tell me why.”
Floyd avoids eye-contact. Not blushing but with all his grimacing teeth on display, he whines, “But it’s embarrassing.”
“Now you have to tell me.”
And he really does because Floyd being embarrassed is alien. You go to deal your own physical blow on Floyd. Aiming a hit that is intercepted, you gloat, “Or this little shrimp is going to take down a big eel.”
When Floyd interlocks your fingers together, you fight back. You fight back through depressing pressure on it; you do not fight the borderline amatory gesture. His hand feels nice in yours. The lighting-shaped lesion in his inner palm that you created feels so warm.
Your mark, your heart sings. Killing that melody, you start to wrestle slightly with Floyd. Horseplaying, your joint hands press against one another, moving back and forth with each playful jab you throw at one another.
“No waaaay, you’re too weak.”
“Says the person about to be beat.”
“I’m fending you off with one hand!”
“Oh yeah?”
“Ack - ak! That’s – uuk – cheating!”
“Why am I called Shrimpy!”
“Because I’mma squeeze you like a Shrimpy!”
“Oh my God,” you laugh. “That’s an even bullshit-er answer than ‘or something’!”
“It’s true! Come here!”
“Ahahaha!”
Sportive laughter blooms from you. Pouncing like a dog seeing its owner after a week long vacation, Floyd pushes you down onto the ground. You squeal breathlessly, “Oh my God!” The back of your head collides with his other protective palm rather than ground. You two are still entwined at the hands – his left and your right. You slap and wrench your left hand this way and that. Floyd follows with his right, trying to grab that too. A foot scuffles up to his lower stomach, pushing. No way are you going to accept a Leech squeeze without a proper fight. You two twist and squirm on the floor, laughing together.
All the while, the caress between your right hand and his left hand remains an independent variable. Unchangeable in this discord of rapid-moving limbs. A caress of interlocked fingers.
“Shrimpy’s gonna – AH HAHA – Shrimpy’s gonna get squeezed!” A mouthful of sharp piscine teeth gleams over your face. You kick at Floyd’s intestines hard enough where his mouth goes circular instead of being crescent.
“Nuh – hahaha – no way!” Floyd makes another grab at your left arm. You twist on your side, crushing his grip on the cement below you, as your heart pounds in your eardrums. You arch in a giggling shriek when Floyd tickles your side, exposing your left arm.
“Aha!” Floyd shouts victorious when he manages a squeeze to your bicep.
Yet, before a shrimp can be squeezed, a door opens. “(Name), your break has been over – oh.”
Jade drinks in the sight of you and his brother like it is a recherché tea blend he has never seen before. A gloved hand covers the uniform pressed over Jade’s chest. Well, this is his first time seeing his twin have a crush so: “Oh, I am so glad to see Floyd getting along with his little shrimp. Warms my brotherly heart.”
Frozen on the ground, you and Floyd show Jade your teeth in matching, disgruntled, and cringing grimaces. All thirty-two square enamels of yours; all forty-two triangle enamels of Floyd’s.
“My, what sour expressions! Fufufu!”
“Why are you making that face!”
“I’m gonna shove this down your throat so you stop saying such stupid shit,” your fork moves with each word you say.
“All I said was –”
“I heard you. Do not repeat it.”
Oh, how you heard Ace, loud and clear. With all the agonizing clarity of a centipede squirming in your ear, his words made an invasion in your body. Not even a full minute ago, Ace had commented, “you and Floyd seem pretty close now.” Those words got you to instantly drop your waving hand, Floyd’s scarred palm still up and waving buh-bye to you, before you rounded on Ace with your fork.
More frequently, between class breaks, Floyd has been visiting you during the time you and your trio have lunch. It is nothing eccentrically different. Floyd has been a persistent leech on you since Jamil Viper’s overblot … but you never reciprocated in conversation until now. Which is probably why Ace brings up the one basketball practice you attended fourteen days ago:
“You know that one time you came to our practice, I think he played the best he has in – FUCK!”
As Ace nurses the four indents on his throat, you fake a moue, “Oh, what was that? You have to speak clearly Ace.”
The sound of your best friend’s hacking and your other best friends’ laughter is a tranquil balm. Enough to where you can stop stressing over the lack of distance now between (Name) (Last Name) and Floyd Leech.
Okay, maybe you never stop thinking about the lack of distance. You are a person who always backtracks into previous thoughts. Reversing time in your mind and puking in your own mouth is perpetual. Therefore, you end up stewing away in your mind, moving a spoon through a bowl of wet rice. Ah … closeness is such a flimsy concept.
You and Floyd seem pretty close now? Perhaps.
‘Cannibalism Cooking’ is a teaching segment on how to erase the distance between self and other? Perhaps.
You think too much? Yes.
Despite your ire, there has been a shift. It is could be in something small like how instead of cooking alive lobsters you name Floyd 1, Floyd 2, Floyd 3, etcetera; you have taken to making stories up for each lobster with Floyd, humanizing them in jest like one does with Barbie dolls, as Floyd’s lobster mourns the death of your lobster who fell into the boiling pot. It could be something large like how you will look at Floyd at times and think of how you want to devour him down to the bones — cooking him on the very stove in Mostro Lounge that you work, your own lai d'ignaure.
Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking, you repeat to yourself in threes. You try to focus on the preparation of rice.
For almost three months you have worked at Mostro Lounge and it has gone on without a hitch. Which is odd because backtracking … you think back on Ruggie and the Intra-School Competition. You have yet to see Floyd in a bad mood, and that cannot last forever.
Eventually, the thing Ruggie foretold comes to pass. Three days later. It is like a weatherman reporting a category four hurricane, an inevitable part of the atmosphere that cannot be avoided. Floyd has fallen into one of his bad moods. And it is worse than any natural disaster.
Double swinging doors open like a maw of roaring teeth. One door happens to smack the tray out of an employee’s hand, just about to exit to the dining hall. That is what causes your eyes to flicker up. Calamity comes in the sound of crackling porcelain and squishing food. Two dishes have clattered to the floor, food wasted. Your eyes flicker up from the discord of pasta, seafood, and vegetables to see the criminal of the crime. Floyd Leech who has the meanest maw that would put any apex predator to shame.
That monstrous look? You guarantee that the credit for crafting it belongs to the sauce splattered on Floyd’s slacks and shoes. Shadows settle over the eel-mer’s face. His hand comes up to hold his own shoulder in an iron grip.
Besides you, a line-cook bemoans, “Well, it was nice knowing him.”
Every employee is aware of the rules: if one of the employees is not following the rules, squeezing is permitted. One of the unspoken rules: do not piss off Floyd Leech. Ruining his shoes is a swift way to get his mood down.
You and your fellow line-cook share a grimace. The employee – you think he might be a Scarabia or Savanaclaw student, too far away to tell the color of his arm-band – is shaking in Floyd’s presence. Watching Floyd’s mouth and eyebrows twitch and the student’s hands move in apologetic measures, you consider something heavy on your tongue.
I really don’t have to go out of my way to help that nameless student, you think just as your mouth opens. Really, though, you only think that because you do not want to confront the reality of who you are helping. “Hey!” The kitchen staff switches their attention from the scene to you. Ugh.
“Which table was that for?”
The Scarabia/Savanaclaw student almost looks ready to fall to his knees in gratitude. Shaking, he replies, “It wa-was for Table N-Nuh-Nine.”
“Well, clean up Table Nine’s mess. Mop’s in the supply closet,” you hope the student is sharp enough to pick up the message: stay there until Floyd is calm. “Then, get out on the floor and offer Table Nine complimentary drinks because of the delay. Move it.”
“Yes, right away!” You think he might be Savanaclaw because you have never seen a person run that fast before.
It is like those stare-down between two predators on nature documentaries. You and Floyd size each other, him pissed that you let his punching bag escape and you pissed that he caused perfectly fine food to spoil. Eye contact locks in place; confrontation like a rumbling storm cloud separates you two. Whoever yields is going to have the face and accept the bite of the other. It comes as a surprise to the kitchen staff when you look right into the sun, challenging that mean eye. Lips pulling back to grimace, it comes to an even greater shock to everyone when Floyd looks away first. When his sheepish eyes glance back up, you move a finger in a ‘come here’ motion.
It would be ideal if he could move without kicking a wad of spaghetti across the vinyl floor … but you take what you can get.
“Hand me that stool,” you say. Refusing to take your eyes off Floyd, you hold your open fingers out behind your back towards your fellow line-cook who has a stool by his oven. When Floyd passes some cooks, they press their stomachs up to the burning stove-plates, dangerously leaning inward to avoid the immediate danger of a grumpy eel. Still, you two look daggers at each other.
The stool finds your hand and you set it down in front of you – right by your own designated stove .
“Sit,” you instruct and he wordlessly obeys.
Even while listening, he is glaring at you. A sculptor named Animosity has molded his features; he looks at you like he wants your head to fly off, probably thinking you are going to scold him like Azul and Jade do. Instead, you turn on a third burner (bottom right) and look around for a frying pan.
You were warned by Jade and Azul around the first week of your employment, Azul’s words far-off yet intimately close too: We tell all long-lasting staff but I ask that you heed this more than the others, Prefect. It is better to leave Floyd alone when he is in a bad mood.
Floyd is silent as he watches. His lilac vest and white button-up is wrinkled with his slouched posture. Tie still undone. No hat this time around. Sitting and slouching, he still comes up to about your elbow. On the stool’s footrest, he hooks his shoes on them, just glaring and glaring at you.
No matter, you think, retrieving slices of bread. I can deal with a childish glare. You start to lather up the slices with garlic Parmesan butter as the pan heats up gradually. But – you have to go to the refrigerator to retrieve two ingredients you do not have on hand.
Just as you go to ask your fellow line-cook to fetch those ingredients that you needed, a hand grabs your slacks. Mild surprise seasons your face as you look down. Burying itself into your black slacks is Floyd’s left hand.
“Why aren’t ya yellin’ at me?”
“Would you like me to?”
Floyd shows you all forty-two of his teeth in a disgusted grimace. Like the mere notion of you yelling at him leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
“Don’t ask for it then,” you scold lightheartedly before finally asking yet another favor of your co-worker. Floyd remains silent but keeps his hand attached to you.
You are baking something quick because you need Floyd’s spirits lifted before that student comes back with the mop. Heat kisses on the plain of your forearm skin as you put the bread slices on the pan. Dial up to eight, a perfect temperature for this little meal. When you get the other ingredients you need, you quickly assemble Floyd’s sandwich.
While you cook each side for four minutes, Floyd bounces his left leg in dismay. His eyes trace over your countertop surface where all your preparation lies but you make sure to keep his eyes away from the stove. His hand is content on your pant leg.
“Here,” you say, holding a sea-turtle green plate out to Floyd. You set it down on the countertop. He eyes it with disinterest yet stops slouching. Quickly turning off the third burner, you move the frying pan to the top right to cool off.
“Grilled cheese?”
“Oh, please, I would never make something so boring.”
Foyd’s eyes glow a bit when he is intrigued. Right now, his eyes are pricked with little firefly holes of light because of your words. That sentence motivates Floyd to pick it up.
Which you only really consider a success when he looks at you wide-eyed, chewing on his first bite. “Tis so goe.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. I can’t understand a word.”
“This is so good.”
Oh.
Why does your chest hurt right now?
“Damn Shrimpy, this is really something!” Floyd praises as he takes another bite, uncaring of the heat.
Oh your bittersweet organ pounds. Maybe – just maybe – because it is Floyd, that praise settles on you a little differently than previous praise. Not that you are unappreciative of those that eat your food. As Grim really thinks anything you make tastes great, as Ace or Deuce did not come from a lineage of highly sophisticated and picky taste-buds, Floyd’s praise is different. Floyd is not as easy to please as he seems. The glaring fact that your food has brought a smile to his face causes your heart to pound in an alternative rhythm that you have never felt before.
Before you can start thinking about that more, you explain what makes the grilled cheese so different: “It’s a combination of grilled cheese, pizza, and garlic bread. The pepperoni and garlic butter add a punch, while it really just looks like a normal grilled cheese. Figured you’d like it.”
He really does like it. It is evident as he takes a gigantic bite, listening to you explain your mixture of three types of bread-based foods combined into one. Stringy cheese connects from his lips to his food. It is a little distracting how fluidly he gathers up the flexible intestines of your grilled pepperoni sandwich. His tongue and teeth are inhuman after all.
Hell, should you turn down one of the burners? Why are you feeling so hot? You watch a slice of pepperoni disappear into Floyd’s chipmunk cheeks before he says:
“Shrimpy’s a real good cook.”
“Of course, it was why I was hired here. But … Thank you. That’s very nice to hear from you.”
“And ya made it especially for little me.”
“Hm?”
“Shrimpy cooked just for me.”
“Uuk –” Caught just like that. You were hoping he would somehow overlook it, either because of his bad mood or his admiration towards the food. Before you can open your mouth to embarrass yourself with pointless retorts, another calamity steals your attention.
You look towards the noise by the double doors, and before you lies the best sight you have ever seen at Night Raven College. Azul. Flat on his ass, having slipped because of where that student mopped. The octo-mer’s glasses are tilted and blue paints his cheeks. “HAHAHAHA!” You quickly slap a hand over your mouth so you do not join Floyd’s laughter. Though, your shoulders shake quite a bit.
It is also the best sight in Night Raven College because it allows you to procrastinate on the philosophy of how love, to you, is finding people to be in the kitchen with.
But, mostly, it is the best because it is Azul having slipped on his ass. “Hehehe.”
Eggs in a carton. That is what they look like. Eyes in a mask of skin. A twin set of eggs, turned sideways and unblemished. Staring up at you, those eggs remain open and bulge from the concave carton made of skin. One yolk is yellow and the other is a plain olive-rust.
There is a third part to your philosophies – the idea of Heaven that I see is a slice of you staring up at me. If love is an ingredient then the body full of love is a banquet hall.
A dish acts as his pillow. His locks are combed back with gravity, teal and black angel hair seasoning the meal. What you have on your plate is Floyd’s upside-down head which unblinkingly stares at you. He looks coherent. You are not sure if that makes it better or worse … because it means he can hear (along with you) the words Azul is saying:
“Unadon is just one of the many delicacies made from eel. The average chef knows about nine ways to prepare eel into different meals – braised or stewed or fried or grilled. Today, the Culinary Crucible asks that you prepare this catch with your heart as the writer of the recipe.”
And what awful words they are.
Timid, you look up at Azul while he walks the length of the room. He is dressed in his Culinary Crucible uniform; hair tucked behind his ear, cotton table cloth on his hip, sleeves of the double-breasted jacket rolled up to his elbows. He is reading off a clipboard. His glasses steal in the limited light, glowing like a kitchen knife, each motion of those lenses keen as a stab. Each step of his is perfumed with the scent of viscera.
It only makes sense because you are in the belly of the beast.
“Cooking eels is particularly challenging. Unlike other finfish, the skin needs to be removed as soon as the eel is dead due to the slippery consistency. On average, a chef invests a number of years into mastering and perfecting the craft of making a mouth-watering meal.”
Reddish-mauve muscle layers drape across the wall like curtains. Hardly noticeable but the walls shudder with digestion. Incurvate muscle layers are connected together by towering bone pillars. In the thinner layers, between this fusion of stomach and rib-cage, reddish-mauve turns a reddish-orange with light.
Food acts as the flooring. A runny egg yolk about the size of pillow nestles into a crimson tomato that is equal to the size of a beanbag chair. Juicy ribs decorate the floor like carpeting. Baguettes underfoot crunchy softly with each step Azul takes. You look down at what is holding yourself and your chair up.
Underneath your feet is a cucumber. Kaleidoscope-esque seeds are arranged in the shape of a sun. Foamy white-green has a moist caress on you, and, when you test it with your toes, white plasma froths up with the pressure.
“Harriet Van Horne was an American newspaper colonist with her career starting in 1940’s. In 1956, she wrote an article titled ‘Not for Jiffy Cooks’ and, in it, she wrote the following words: Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all. Chefs. (Name). The Culinary Crucible asks that you enter with this love. Or never cook again. Please begin.”
Begin?
There is such a momentous weight before starting. Not limited to cooking, there is always a kind of second breath curled up in the first breath before one starts a new task. Breathing with more effort to steady yourself in your resolve.
The breath you take suctions in a perfume, aligned with the floral notes of sweetness found in sugar-peppered churros, sourness found in slobbering grapefruit, saltiness found in prickling flakes on fries, bitterness found in melting dark chocolate, and savoriness found in – you don’t know yet.
Cooking is like love, you reflect amorously. You maneuver with a careful approach, gently moving the plate closer to you. Keeping him upside down, you take the hook of his mandible between your thumb and index. Dentist-like, you open his mouth. Paralyzed with an active consciousness, Floyd’s tongue hangs in his mouth like a stillborn, pink mole rat.
It stretches. Stretching like taffy with cheesy elasticity, you tug it between your dull square enamels. Pulling inch by inch, you hold Floyd’s tongue with tongs made of teeth. When it disconnects from his buccal cavity with a wet, ripping sound – spuuuul-ck! – evangelical light burns from your mouth to your retinas.
My – My bedroom. I’m in my bedroom. Gently, your teeth move off the object you were biting down in a violent grip. Salvia soaken into your pillowcase, you let out a quiet groan. You fall back down on the pillow, finding a dry patch to rest your cheek on, having just woken up.
Not good … Not fucking good at all.
That stupid eel; will you ever get a goodnight sleep again because of him … him and stupid sweet laughter, sour eyes, salty lips, bitter touch, and savory kiss. Kiss? Kiss! You blink and reel yourself from the image your brain was starting to paint.
“No way,” you breathe flustered. “I don’t want to kiss Floyd.” You hold that thought on your tongue like a cough drop. The flavor seeps in and – “Fuck, I want to kiss Floyd.”
Grim, who sleeps belly-up, gives a little kick next to the cradle your left thigh has on him. Quieting down, you think of a conversation you and Floyd had about a month ago. You still need to answer that question – “You know I can never wrap my head around that nickname. I get why Grim’s a seal because he’s shaped similarly. I don’t get mine. Eels eat shrimp or something?” / “ – Or something.” / “That’s vague.” / “What? Ya want me to eat ya, Shrimpy?”
With determination, you reach over your pillow to your bedside table. Hand locked on the phone, your first sight of the morning is a tiny Grim blooming alive on the screen. You coo at the picture of Grim sleeping, tail tucked closed to his body and eyes drawn shut. Cutie, you think, sliding up the screen.
Now back to being a soldier on a mission, you click on Safari and type away. Eels and shrimps. You click search. Not wanting a long hunt, you hit the first website. MORAY EEL and CLEANER SHRIMP writes itself out on a blue webpage. Relief fills you to find the article is only two paragraphs worth of reading.
Okay, Floyd. Time to see what is so embarrassing about a tiny nickname. There is no comprehensible way that his embarrassment could possibly tip your own embarrassment off the scales. Two dreams intimately cannibalistic is much harder to admit than the reason for a silly nickname.
The two paragraphs read:
“There are approximately 200 species of Moray Eel, most of which are exclusively marine although a small number inhabit brackish water and fresh water. Its eyes are small and vision limited, so the eel relies on a sophisticated sense of smell to detect prey, which consists primarily of cephalopods and crustacea. They possess one long dorsal fin that extends from the neck to the anal fin, allowing smooth propulsion through the water. Snake-like in appearance, with wide mouths full of misshapen teeth, the Moray Eel looks ferocious but is in fact a shy, mostly solitary creature living most of its life in burrows and caves.”
Shy? You scoff at the very idea of it. Continuing on, you read the second paragraph.
“For some species, the only regular companions are cleaner shrimp, which live in a symbiotic relationship with the eel. The shrimp congregate in teams called a ‘cleaning station’ and move across the whole body of the eel – including inside the mouth – removing parasites and dead skin, which is their food. This cleaning ensures good health for the eel, so both species benefit.”
Your hands clap over your face as if the pressure can push down the geysering flush that is overriding your skin and hide away all these emotions.
“(Name), could you retrieve something from the walk-in freezer for me?”
It has been a torturous week. Being co-workers with someone you have developed a crush on; you imagine creating a big X with your arms, you do not recommend it. It is such a delicate tight-rope walk across a boiling pot of scalding water.
Even while working without him as a constant leech, he remains there.
On your body and inside your body. Inside your body, it is how he infects your thoughts. On your body though is a bracelet made of teeth (beastman, merman, fae, and human). Floyd made it for in Art; even took the red string and tied it himself around your wrist. (“I don’t have any stuff for an earring so I hadda improvise. I think humans wear shark necklaces sometimes; bracelets are like necklaces for the wrists!”) There might just casually be a tooth from each of the seven dorms on your wrist. You are currently stirring scallops around in an oiled skillet, watching a golden crust form on them and admiring your recently made jewelry.
Floyd’s very odd, you think as you look up from your station. To see who needs you to retrieve something from the walk-in freezer. A pair of heterochromic eyes size you up. “What do you need me to get,” you ask. “I can’t really leave these to burn.”
“It will only be a matter of seconds. Turn the temperature down a bit.”
Lawfully, you decide not to argue against it. Jade is just one ring lower from being your boss. The blue flame lowers slowly. You walk away from the oven, keeping your apron on, and follow after Jade.
“Thank you. I cannot quite carry it all myself.”
“No problem. What are we grabbing?”
“A shipment of veal and fresh beef. Two boxes each.”
You nod your agreement to help. When you two come up upon the steel door, Jade takes the handle in his gloved hand and pulls towards himself to remove it from the first locking mechanism. Cold rushes towards you with a bear-hug-esque strength. You give one hard shiver before falling still. Jade almost seems to smile in the face of frosty air, lips quirked up.
“By the way, have you seen Floyd today? He’s always around on the weekends but I haven’t seen him enter the kitchen yet.”
“Still interested in his day to day?”
“You know what, forget I said anything,” you say, stepping in front of Jade. Like a deflating flower, your toothpick lowers to the ground in disappointment. “I’m sure I’ll see him later.”
“Who knows it might be earlier than expected.”
“Huh?”
Then, Jade gives you a shove hard enough to send you sprawled on the floor inside the walk-in freezer. You almost end up puncturing a hole in your cheek with your toothpick. That bastard!
The thing about freezers is a majority of them have plastic sheeting between the steel door and the inside to keep the temperature below zero. Long, seven inches wide stripes of plastic hang like party streamers from the entrance. Coated in ice, it is extremely difficult to see through, whether in or out.
Which is why you do not notice until you are inside the freezer that Floyd is there too. He looks at you down on your hands and knees, confusion a mere flicker until a flame of rage consumes it. Standing up, Floyd rushes past you. At the hanging plastic and entrance, he screams.
“Jade – you fucking bas – !”
“The human body takes four to six hours to succumb to hypothermia in zero degree weather. So, take however long you need.” And though the difference is not too noticeable, the room grows a bit dimmer. The very noticeable part is the sound of the lock clicking in place.
“Jade!” A fist flies through the icy plastic, banging loud against steel. “Jade, I’m gonna strangle you when I’m out! I’m gonna break your fuckin’ terrariums!” You think you just saw the steel door dent with the force of Floyd’s kick.
A pregnant moment of silence settles between you two. Floyd refuses to turn around. After a few more threats and punches to the door, he still remains spine facing you.
By now, you have picked yourself from the ground, hugging yourself. All you are wearing is a thin unbutton, apron, slacks, and a thin tank top. Your shoes and Octavinelle hat might keep some heat circulating. Four to six hours? That is too generous for what you are wearing; Jade probably got that statistic about people wearing winter gear.
When another shiver races down your vertebrates and Floyd still has not moved, you quietly poke, “Um, Floyd. Do you know what’s up with Jade?”
“Ugh, I told him I had this handled.”
“What handled?”
It seems you were not supposed to hear that because Floyd finally turns around. Droopy eyes give you a fleeting, disinterested once over. Besides his usual fidgeting, he appears unbothered by the cold. Spinning around with a sigh, Floyd aims at his vitriol at you with a glare.
When he stalks toward you like a predator, you straighten up. While not entirely experienced in fights, you are not going to be the squeeze-toy thrown to an angry mongrel to be torn apart until stuffing flies like snow. The fist you were preparing loosens when Floyd simply reclaims his spot on the ground, leaning against the opposite wall. Huh?
“I’mma go to sleep. Wake me up when Jade opens the door.”
Huh!
“Wait, but can’t you get us out with magic?”
“Jade used that spell again; needs two mages to unlock it.”
A curse sizzles under your breath. It grows into a mushroom cloud of air in front of your face, crystalizing. Fuck, it is like a miniature Antartica. Not wanting to display any weakness, you only rub your hand up your left arm instead of rubbing both like you desperately want to. “Well, there’s got to be a reason why. Revenge for slacking off?”
Floyd does not answer you. He just sits with his legs pulled up and chin resting on his knees. “Look, I gotta get out of here. I’ll freeze to death.” At that his eyes grow a bit more alive, flickering up to you. A weak half-smile is aimed at you.
“Well, I don’t want a popsicle Shrimpy.”
“So, you can get the door open? Oh, that’s a relief!”
Turns out Floyd cannot get the door open because all he does is start stripping. HUH! Floyd might be a little too late in stopping you from turning into a popsicle; you remain frozen solid, openly leering with questions. You only unthaw when you see it is just his Octavinelle jacket and scarf he is taking off. Those two items he offers you in an outstretched hold.
“I thought you could get us out of here,” you mourn with a whine.
“Unless you gain magic, I can’t. Here, it’s not going bite –”
You barely let Floyd get out another word before you are throwing on his jacket and mummifying yourself with his scarf. Screw humility, you bet half your salary that this freezer dips into the negatives at times. Oversized, his jacket falls at the midpoint of your thighs. You squeeze yourself in an imaginary embrace, trying to bottle up all your warmth and –
“Why are you holding your hand out still?”
“I don’t really mind the cold. You’re gonna start shiverin’. You should sit.”
“I’m fine.” Your toothpick flies up and down in your mouth, moving to the beat of your full body shivers. “I’ll still be able to move when Jade unlocks the door.”
“C’mon Shrimpy.”
“I’m not going to cuddle up with you for warmth.”
“It’s not cuddlin’, it’s squeezin’.”
“Same thing.”
“Nuh uh.”
“Yuh uh.”
“Nuh uh.”
“Yuh uh!”
“Nuh uh!”
You end up letting Floyd squeeze you to keep you warm; it is not cuddling.
Sitting between his long legs, accepting his arms which wrap around your waist, letting him rest his sleepy head on your shoulder as the black strand tickles your cheek. It is not cuddling because he holds you with cement arms instead of in soft amatory. Despite that, it is helping with fending off hypothermia.
Floyd’s hands are flushed pink, almost frostbitten. When you look down at where his embrace locks, you see the crimson flesh of his phalanges and your own hands ache from just looking at them. Your hands are tucked in Floyd’s jacket sleeves. Only equipped with a button-up now, there isn’t much to keep him protected from the frigid ventilation.
“Pu-Put your hands under my jacket.” You break a silence that has been stretching on seemingly infinitely. Snotty slugs run down your nose and you sniff them back into their home. “You’re going to lose a finger.”
“I’m fiiine,” Floyd mumbles into your shoulder. He has been drifting in and out of sleep for, well, you do not know how long truthfully. He seems to be stewing deep in thought.
It takes only a minute (you counted in your head) to get him to put his hands under your tank-top and all the layers above it. They feel unnaturally hot against your skin. Moderate frostbite. You thank him for listening then go back to counting the number of boxes in the room for a third time.
“There’s got to be some kind of loose screw or like weak area in the magic, right?”
Frustrated, you pat the steel door, nudging the plastic out of your way with your shoulders. After whittling down so many toothpicks, you start to grow fidgety. You need to go outside and take a smoke break; hell, you would forgo the cigarette just to get a breath of fresh air.
Claustrophobia settling in, you press your frostbitten fingers over the seam of the metal door and wall. Maybe you can use something to push the lock open. “Maybe I can knock something into this spot and unlock the door.”
“Jadio sealed it up with magic. It ain’t gonna open.”
“If you’re not gonna help, zip it.”
“You talked to me first.”
“That’s it! Quiet game starting now!”
You lie on Floyd’s side, sharing his jacket like a blanket, when you murmur, “Floyd, I’m sorry about earlier.”
“... Ya lose the quiet game, Shrimpy.”
“Hehe, damn, you’re right.” You two watch your laughter float up in clouds of cold air.
It takes until Floyd gets the start of deep frostbite and you get the start of superficial frostbite when he admits softly, “I think I know something that might work.”
You look up with shiny eyes. Growing really frustrated, unshed tears have started to cling to your eyelashes. Not that they would really vanish if you ended up crying. The image of tears freezing on your face is much more appropriate.
Poking your mouth out of Floyd’s scarf like a timid turtle, you ask, “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinkin’ –” Floyd trails off, oddly shy. He is already flushed from the chill but you watch crimson spread like an infection. He will not look at you.
His red expression reminds you of the time you took a toothpick to pick food out his teeth … wait, a minute: The shrimp congregate in teams called a ‘cleaning station’ and move across the whole body of the eel – including inside the mouth – removing parasites and dead skin. Now you two definitely match on levels of blushing.
Why do I think of that now; you startle when Floyd’s eyes narrow down at you.
He drinks in each atom and molecule of you with his eyes. Snotty nose, flushed face, shivering tremors all ingredients used to make the messy image that is you at this very moment. Floyd could not ask for a better sight. A little apprehensive at his intense staring, you hide your chin in his lilac scarf. He looks like he wants to take a bite of you –
“Shrimpy, I love you.”
“...
“Huh?”
“You don’t needa say it back or anything.
“Just,” Floyd then pronounces his next words like someone speaking to customer service, making sure each syllable is clear. “Shrimpy. I. Love. You.” Your face creases at his odd tone until you hear it – the click of the steel door being unlocked. Your eyes widen in shock. “There we go,” Floyd says, reaching one hand through the plastic hangers to push open the entrance.
“Ya can just forget this – mmh!”
Reviewing and backtracking, a stomach and intestines is viscera and viscera is a stomach and intestines. Each organ of your own viscera is working itself into this violent kiss. Churning and ruminating like lustful waves. You have to digest each part of Floyd Leech in this kiss or you will starve.
This has marinated long enough.
It is even better than your dreams.
When you take his tongue in your mouth, each nerve on your tongue flares up in a sweet vibration. Warmth melts through your bones as you grasp at Floyd’s hair and he pulls you up by your waist. He is a bit inexperienced but he is surely reacting positively to it.
This savory flavor is unlike anything you have ever tasted. Tagging and twisting tongues, you two devour each other like you are each other’s three star michelin feast. With harsh bites, you two switch flavor profiles with which area that is explored.
Like an inmate on death row, you take care and time with making sure each lick and bite is savored. Peppermint and meat. A laugh huffs into Floyd’s mouth, you were not expecting such a weird combination.
You two break apart momentarily, panting breaths beating out in tiny clouds against the cold. Sharing a moment where you both just want to stare at each other. His olive-brown and gold eyes are like heavenly light. There are sand-flickers of a dozen different hues in each one, all shades deliquescing together to make them glow slightly. He has such a tender look in them.
Five seconds is far too long to pause kissing; you and Floyd both agree, throwing yourself back at each other.
Each part that Floyd touches on you ignites with a hellish fire. Not even the negative temperatures of the freezer can subdue such a flaming sensation. He cradles your organ and skeletal system with such care, moving kidney to lung to lymph nodes, moving ilium to scapula to xiphoid process. Every part of you worshiped.
You are never going to come up for air. You both have waited far too long for this.
I’m gonna fucking bite his lips off, you think with untamed carnivorous desire. It seems Floyd agrees to the sentiment. Because he eagerly follows when you move him by a handful of his hair on the right side, black and teal threading through fierce fingers.
“Aah,” Floyd gasps when you pull.
“Mmmm,” you moan when Floyd squeezes.
“Ah,” Jade squeaks surprised.
You pull away first, head snapping towards the open door. Iron hot warmth burns your lips. You look at Floyd’s twin with horror when you realize you definitely have salvia coated generously on your lips. Mourning that it is not blood on your tongue, you listen as Jade says, “I felt the spell break, but it looks like I made an ill-thought-out decision to check. My apologies; please continue.”
But you cannot because – “my fucking scallops, Jade! If those are burnt, I’m going to break your terrariums!”
“My, what flaming anger. Perhaps another hour in the freezer.”
Both you and Floyd run at Jade just as he unclips his magic pen.
This should not be that big of a deal.
You have done this a hundred times over and will continue to do it a hundred times over. So there is absolutely no rational reason for your hands to be shaking on this avalanche level intensity. Still – looking down at them, clutched around a tiny red coffin – there your hands are … at the end of your wrists … shaking.
There is still time to dispose of the evidence. On both hands you can count the number of people who would be more than grateful to receive this little tomb. Two of them happened to have beast features on the top of their heads, and one of the two already expressed interest in it.
(“How does this smell?”
“Shishishi, smells delicious. I didn’t know today was payday.”
“Wait! Aaah, don’t touch it please – this isn’t payment.”
“Hm,” confusion knits Ruggie’s face. “Then why bother asking?”
You cannot meet his eyes at that moment. Shuffling shoes suddenly seem more interesting as you murmur sheepishly under your breath. “It’s a little embarrassing.” Unable to elaborate further, you open up the red box. Aroma and warmth swims through the air. Ruggie’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight.
“Oh. I get it now.”
You ruminate at that moment, vomiting out all your insecurities. You barely even stop between each word. All of it pulled from you by an imaginary fish hook: “It’s so embarrassing; I’m going to throw it out!!”
“Don’t you dare.” Ruggie yells as you rush off to find a trash-can.) Eventually, Ruggie did manage to convince you to keep it in a very cop-talks-down-a-suicide-jumper with the cop being him and the suicide jumper, the bento box.
Floyd will – backtrack, Floyd is going to laugh at it. You are just stuck on predicting if his high-pitched laughter will be mocking or amused. Perhaps, his dominant hand will come to rest on his right shoulder, miffed beyond sensibility. The bento contains a mini-hot-dog-faced bear sleeping under a blanket of rice, dyed to look like a watermelon, with dreams of corn, cucumbers, and meat floating above his head. Is that amusing or aggravating?
Waking up so early in the morning to make another lunch on top of the ones prepared for yourself and Grim … what illness have you caught, fever turning your hands into fretful shaking limbs … what happens if he hates the bear and would prefer a bunny or panda … you even stressed over picking an aquatic themed bento, but decided it against it because it was too on-the-nose for your tastes.
If a heart is made of meaty worries and anxieties, you put your heart into this meal. Head down, roaming Night Raven’s halls, you blush hard at the thought.
Things have been escalating fast between you two. Floyd’s shyness melted away when you two stumbled out of the walk-in freezer. His body and blood eagerly reveal his own matching hunger. You still remember last night kneading dough at Ramshackle, him nestling you from behind and pressing more and more kisses to your pulse point. Both of you devour each other in lip to lip kisses.
Love, an ingredient in the kitchen.
By the time you have arrived at your destination, your face has thankfully cooled down. There he stands. He is caught up in a conversation with Jade as Azul patiently waits off to the side. I shouldn’t interrupt them, you think and gladly grab onto that detour. If you turn down the left hallway, you can avoid this and pass Ruggie’s D period class. This vulnerability is worse than the vulnerability of being magicless. I should go. They seem busy –
“Shrimpy!” Your heart knocks hard on the muscles of your throat at that nickname. How does he always know when you are around?
Closing the gap, refusing to make eye-contact. You can feel the casual observation of Azul and Jade on you as you display what is in your hands. Stop shaking, you big baby, you scold yourself. “Floyd. This is – um –.”
“Is that for me? Aw, does Shrimpy like me or something? That’s cute — a little shrimp with a little crush.”
You finally look up. An amused, mismatched pair of eyes squint impishly at you. Miles of intestines give a teapot boiling over sound in rage. Okay, two can play at that:
“Jade. How nice to see you! I happened to make extra for my own lunch; I noticed your habit of eating more than one meal at lunch and thought you would enjoy this.”
“My, what a gracious offer. Thank you, (Name). I will be sure to savor every bite.”
What you are offering to Jade is suddenly swiped: “HEY, THAT’S MINE!”
Your lips quirk up, expecting that. His next move you are much less prepared for. Halfhazardlessly, he flips off the box as if to check that Jade has not eaten anything from the tomb. All of his energy drips out of him, bloodletting-esque. He almost appears paler.
His only response is a slow blink directed at you.
“You don’t have to eat it. Grim or Ruggie will – And! And I get it! It’s pretty embarrassing. I totally get –” Your word vomit is swallowed by a pair of lips.
Floyd does not even give you a chance to reciprocate, pulling away with laughter on his tongue. Not mocking or amused. Lovey-dovey laughter.
Love has such a wonderful flavor. Right there, in the belly of the beast.
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Hello!! I love your fics and have a small request!
Is there any way you could do a pt.2 to "Thick thighs can save lives" and make it nsfw? I loved that fanfic sm when I originally read it! I love chubby reader stuff. I'm chubby myself soo!! Eee!!
I loved your fics sm. Keep up the good work!!
Thick Thighs Call for Good Times
Prior notes: Y E S! We big girls need our lovin. I went too crazy I think because Bi-Han got me all hot and bothered. I blame ███████ for my addiction to him.
Pairing: Bi-Han x Chubby! Afab reader
Warnings ‼️: NSFW, Overstimulation, creampies, oral sex (fem receive), we ride…Bi-Han…rhymes with dawn if you say it a certain way
You never left the Lin Kuei. You never left Bi-Han. Bi-Han was never letting you go. That’s just how the cookie crumbles.
It was clear to Liu Kang that he wasn’t getting his apprentice fully back. So a compromise was made. You stayed with Bi-Han and Liu Kang would come to you to actually train you since Bi-Han wasn’t letting you train with anyone else. As long as you stay near him he’s fine with this arrangement.
The Lin Kuei treated you much better than when you first arrived. That might be because it’s clear that a relationship was established, at least in Bi-Han’s perspective. You followed his lead and figured he wanted a relationship. It would be awkward if he didn’t want a relationship while he’s constantly trying to cuddle you and give you a little smoochy smooch.
The clinginess didn’t get better. That man had his hands all over you, squishing and squeezing anywhere he could. On a calm day he would only be squishing your stomach as you guys would lie down or if he had you in his lap. The frisky days, as you called them, were much more risqué. Chest, thighs, ass, if he could grab it he would.
The first time he ever grabbed your breasts it was a mind blowing experience. He was tempted by you. You were wearing a tank top after training for a bit. Of course no tank top could ever handle the size of your chest but you couldn’t care, you were hot. Bi-Han saw how your breasts would jiggle with every step. He came up behind you and gave you a hug which you gladly accepted, appreciating his cold skin against your burning skin. Then his hands grabbed at your chest. It wasn’t harsh but it definitely wasn’t a gentle grab. He wanted you to know what he wanted.
“Really?! You’re not gonna say anything to me? Just grab my tits like that?” You questioned Bi-Han but he didn’t care.
You’re not pushing him away so it’s fine. You did expect him to do it one of these days. That day was the day.
“They are nice. They fit so perfectly in my hands.” He looked very intently at his fingers as they squeezed down on your breasts.
He liked the way they bounced back. He liked how they felt in his hands and how they had weight to them.
He wanted a better feel and tried to slip his hands under your tank top before you slapped them away. He was ready to ravish you on a Tuesday afternoon, the sun was still out! He needed to learn some patience. Cause you sure as hell ain’t doing anything in his office when someone could easily walk in.
══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══
Day after day he was trying to grab you in other places. It was difficult to have time to yourself. He even tried following you into the bathing area which you had to physically throw him out. We love a strong woman.
Oh and forget getting out of bed. No, he kept you close to his chest with one arm around your waist and a hand at your breasts.
None of these instances ever led to anything more. You would put a stop to it for multiple reasons. You were too tired, you need to wash up, you’re on your period, you weren’t even in bed. Bi-Han respected your rejection but that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting sexually frustrated. He can’t keep using his hands when he has you right in his grasp.
Truth be told you were still a little insecure about your looks. Clearly Bi-Han loves your body but that nagging voice inside your head says he won’t like you anymore once he sees you naked. You still wanted to hide your lovely rolls and stretch marks from him.
You do realize Bi-Han can handle it, right? Don’t doubt him.
You didn’t like this nagging voice. It’s preventing you from being yourself and expressing some wonderful things. You do want to have sex with Bi-Han. It’s a desire you must fulfill but one that will only happen once you start giving some love to yourself. So what better way to feel better about your body than looking pretty.
On a day when you weren’t training you decided to dress all pretty. A cute skirt with some knee high socks and a long sleeve v-cut shirt. Ooh girl, don’t you look all cute. You better work it! But only work it for Bi-Han, no one else.
You went around looking for Bi-Han, catching the attention of a few clansmen. When you found him he was watching over his clan as they trained. You wrapped your arms around his arm to get his attention. Bi-Han was gonna give you just a glance before he snapped his neck back to look at you. Your chest was squishing against his arm with the shirt showing your cleavage. When he looked down further he could see that you were showing some skin since you were wearing a skirt. Damn you look so adorable to him…and fuckable.
He didn’t say a word to anyone. He just grabbed you and threw you over his shoulders while making his way to the bedroom. You got used to him doing that but you weren’t used to the speed he was going at. He was practically pushing people out of the way before going into the bedroom. He locked the door and threw you on the bed gently. You weren’t all that surprised he did that but what surprised you was how he towered over you and what he had to say.
“Is this what you were planning? You were planning to get my attention by wearing that outfit. Bet you were hoping I would take you right then and there in front of everyone.”
Oh that’s not—no, that’s not what you were planning…
“What?! No! That’s not at all what I was planning-“ you were cut off when you hear the sound of cloth ripping.
Bi-Han tore your underwear off. The air hit your already wet pussy. His arms hooked onto your thighs before he yanked you closer to the edge of the bed where he was now kneeling. His lips practically grazed your clit. Next thing you know his tongue took a long drag up before swirling around your clit. You immediately gasped and your instinct was to close your legs.
Your thighs started to squeeze Bi-Han’s head. That was incredibly to him. Feeling those soft yet strong legs of yours squeezing him, possibly even suffocating him. Suffocation won’t make him stop eating you out. In fact, it makes it even better.
He would push his tongue inside you as his nose would bump into your clit. The taste of you would hit his tongue, causing him to want more and more. Occasionally his tongue would slip out and circle your clit as if it were candy to him. And you’re just supposed to stay there and look all pretty for him as you moan. Don’t think about pushing his head away he will not budge. He’s not done getting a taste of you and preparing you for more to come.
You didn’t realize how long it’s been since you satisfied yourself in any way. Ever since you came to the Lin Kuei you haven’t had the chance to masturbate. Meaning you were already so sensitive when he started going down on you. He could tell since you are already struggling to hold your moans in. He could feel your pussy clench around his tongue, letting him know you were about to cum. His tongue went back to your clit where he licked it continuously. It was his goal to make you cum and get more of your taste. He achieved his goal quickly.
You couldn’t hold back your moans. They weren’t loud but could easily be heard if someone were to pass by the bedroom door. Your thighs tightened around his head as if you were worried he would pull away if you didn’t keep him in place. That orgasm high was glorious. Wow, you feel amazing.
Bi-Han let go of your legs before standing up again. You watched as he licked his lips to collect the rest of your juices.
“Take your clothes off…now.” He demanded.
Oh you didn’t think that was the end right?
══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══
He wanted you to be all sensitive and ready for him. Bi-Han has been waiting for this moment for way too long.
Your clothes were now on the ground and so was his. He didn’t even give you time to take off your knee high socks before he grabbed you and forced you on your stomach.
Bi-Han had a nice grip on your love handles. That’s what he loves about a body like yours. You are built to be loved and to make love. He held your lower half up while your face was down in the sheets. Your hands were gripping the sheets tightly as he slammed into you.
You didn’t see how big his cock was but you could definitely feel it. So thick and surprisingly the only warm part of his body. Or maybe that was your pussy warming it up, you can’t tell with the only thing in your mind being the pleasure that was pulsating through you. You didn’t even realize you were crying from the overstimulation.
Bi-Han could say the same about you. Your pussy was so warm and it squeeze him so nicely. He felt like you were made to be fucked by him. It just feels right.
The view he was getting was fantastic too. Watching his cock go in and out with your wetness coating it. Every time he thrusted into you he would watch your ass jiggle. And when you turned your head to the side he could see how your tears stained your cheeks. You looked so pretty like that. He leaned his body forward till his chest was pressed against your back.
“What’s the matter? Can’t handle being loved by your grandmaster. I thought you were a strong woman.“ Bi-Han teased you.
You wanted to say something back but you couldn’t make out anything. You needed to catch your breath but it felt like there was no break in his stride. Just that constant rough rhythm. It only became worse, or more like pleasurable, when Bi-Han placed his leg up on the bed. When he thrusted back in, you moaned loudly. This new angle allowed him to go deeper into you. Not just that but he was stretching you out more.
You were a crying, drooling, moaning mess below him. His cock slammed deep into you. You were done for. The overstimulated combined with the deeper penetration made you cum all over his cock. You shook and your hands gripped the sheets so tightly that your knuckles became pale. The moans you let out were definitely heard by everyone.
Luckily for you, Bi-Han was just as close as you were. He fucked you through your orgasm before his hit. Your love handles were definitely getting bruised because he was squeezing them harshly while he was cumming inside you. You felt a warmness that filled you. It will be a feeling you will never forget.
You two stayed in that position for a few moments as you caught your breath. You were all hot and you felt disheveled. Bi-Han pulled out, making you whimper from feeling somewhat empty now. He got onto the bed and laid down in his usual spot on the bed. And then he grabbed you!
You thought this was over? Hah! Not for that man!
He grabbed you and made you sit on top of him. You were confused on what he was doing. At this point you should be cuddled to sleep. But he looked up at you and commanded you to do something else.
“Ride me. Make me cum one more time then we will be done.”
You got nervous. Not that you were afraid to do this all over again but that he would be seeing the front of your body. You tried to cover your body with your arms.
“Are you sure you want me to ride you? Maybe you could fuck me from-“
“I want to watch you ride me. I want to see my beautiful woman please me.”
Bi-Han was dead serious. He wanted to watch you not just to see how you reacted to being overstimulated but to see your body as a whole. This was the first time he was truly seen you naked. He wanted to see those gorgeous, round breasts. He wanted to see that cute tummy of yours. He wants to hold those powerful, thick thighs. He wanted it all. He wants you.
Hearing him call you beautiful and hearing how serious he was made your stomach do a flip. You lowered your arms, exposing yourself to him. You did as he wanted. You lifted yourself up a little, angled his hard cock near your hole, then slowly slid down on it.
You both let out a satisfied sigh. You might like this position a lot. It feels like he is really deep inside you. You don’t know if you could keep yourself going but you try.
You start bouncing up and down on his cock, hearing the mixture of your wetness and his cum making sounds every time you move. Bi-Han’s eyes looked at how your body jiggled whenever you slid back down. Your breasts bounced a lot. They called to him and his hands traced up your body till they got to your breasts. He squeezed and played with them. He pinched your nipples lightly and heard your reaction to that. Everything he did you had a clear reaction to.
Tears formed in your eye once again as the pleasure became too much. You were looking down at Bi-Han with half-lidded, glossy looking eyes. They were so beautiful to him. He could get lost in them. But for now his mind was lost to the feeling of your pussy squeezing him constantly. He saw that you were getting sluggish with your movements. He can’t blame you, this was a lot for you to handle. He pulled you close to him. Your chest was pressed against his. He looked into yours eyes and said,
“I’ll take care of this. Just relax and kiss me.”
You listened and started to kiss him. His arms wrapped around your waist and he held you tightly. His hips started thirsting into you. You moaned against his lips while he groaned. Your tears slipped down your cheeks as the pleasure came to a peak once again.
You moaned out loud as you came again. You didn’t try kissing him to keep yourself quiet. You felt like you had no control over your actions in this moment. A few more thrusts and Bi-Han came inside you once again. You must have been filled to the brim with his cum at this point.
Once the high started to dissipate you were left lying on top of him. He held you in his arms and his cock grew soft inside you. His hands were rubbing your back and running through your hair. You could have passed out in that moment if he didn’t start talking again.
“You seemed to like that a lot. I can’t understand why you were so hesitant before.”
“I was worried you wouldn’t like my body.” You responded in a sleepy voice.
“That is idiotic of you to think.” And that was rude of you to say, Bi-Han.
“You are beautiful in many ways. I was a fool to think you were weak before. You are strong and that is what I like in a woman. You are not only strong but gorgeous with a perfect body to love. I would not want to share my affection with anyone else.” He whispered to you.
You were surprised, truth be told. Bi-Han’s words sounded genuine. Your heart warmed up to the fact that he really did love you and your body. Now you felt silly for being worried before.
“You are the only woman I need now. You are my type. Now rest, you must be exhausted.”
Bi-Han placed a kiss on your forehead as his thumb wiped away any stray tears that were still on your cheek. You started to fall asleep with a light smile on your face. This was a wonderful experience for you and Bi-Han. Now you get to rest in his loving and strong arms.
Sweet dreams, gorgeous. Remember your worth.
After notes: My bestie sent me this, this is so me fr fr. Felt like it fits in.
#mortal kombat#mk1#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat x you#mk x reader#mk x you#mk fanfic#bi han x you#bi han x reader#bi han mk#bi han sub zero#bi han mortal kombat#bi han#sub zero x you#sub zero x reader#sub zero#mk smut#mortal kombat smut#mortal kombat bi han#chubby reader
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sneaks into asks again >:3c
any general nsfw headcanons for Adam, Lucifer and Vox maybe? since I saw you were trying out writing nsfw again!
🌼☕` Your Tea Is Ready `☕🌼
MINORS DNI
Includes / Adam , Lucifer , Vox
A/N - Voxs part was fighting me today, I'll post them later when I can get a more coherent thought out!
| ADAM |
Bratty bottom > Mean Dom
Someone had to say it and it clearly wasn't going to be him
He's inherently selfish, but he's also inherently prideful, it's this pride that keeps him from opening up about his interest in subbing
This pride however is also how you can get him into it
" Oh subbing is so hard, there's no way you could last without tapping out, being the top is the easy part of sex "
He folds instantly, just to prove you wrong and it has nothing to do with the fact he wants you to peg/rail him so so bad totally unrelated why would you even bring that up
Loud during sex, sub or dom this bitch shuts up for NOTHING he has no shame if someone hears
Likes when your loud too, he knows he's the shit but it's affirming to have you a moaning, screaming mess on his dick
Doesn't care much for actually talking during sex, he is NOT paying attention, no thoughts head empty yknow?
Does like when you pull or play with his hair though!
Also likes fucking you in somewhat public places, getting fucked though? In his house, in his room, doors locked, curtains pulled that side of him is for you ONLY
Hard no to pictures, he doesn't want others seeing you like that and he definitely doesn't want anyone seeing him like that
Doesn't mind a cheeky nude though !
Sends them before his shows, just to mess with you cause you know he won't be able to get back to you until hours later
Looooves when you show up for his signings afterwards and drag him back stage <33
May be while he still does it but that's between him and God
It definitely takes some time for him to come forward with his own kinks but he's absolutely willing to try yours no judgment, he'll try anything at least once
| LUCIFER |
Service top, it's not that he doesn't mind giving up control or letting you do as you please but he has such a drive to pleasure that he usually ends up taking control at some point during sex
Getting you off gets him off basically
Oral? Loves it! Loves giving head its his favourite hobby <3
Please tell him how good he is for you or how good he makes you feel, makes his head all thick with pride
Will fuck anywhere anytime
He doesn't have a particularly high libido but being an angel he's got mad stamina
Sex ends when something comes up or you tap out, he will keep you there for days if he could (and he's tried)
Hard no to any kinks that could do serious damage to you, he's an angel he can heal so so fast, you can't do that! He has this nagging fear that he'll hurt you, that he doesn't know his own strength
Doesn't mind getting hurt, as said he can heal whenever he wants to, just keep it away from his back
Wings are sensitive, it's a dirty dirty secret of his you only find out on accident and you've been abusing that knowledge ever since
Kissing down his spine? Hard. Grazing his wings? Drooling. Preening a loose Feather? Bent over the desk for you
Has so many sex toys he's willing to try, Ozzie's been giving him toys for holidays since the beginning of time
He has the first dildo ever made, it's displayed in his office somewhere
Loves cuddly morning sex, it's his favorite, kinky rough sex is awesome too, but he likes holding you and taking his time
Has all of you memorized and he treasures it, thinking fondly of your figure often
He's got three thoughts at any given time, ducks, Charlie, bending you over his desk after your third date when you licked the scotch from his bottom lip-
In his defense, you've got no right being that sexy, it's absolutely sinful
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#adam x y/n#adam x you#adam x reader#adam imagines#lucifer x y/n#lucifer imagine#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you#lucifer headcanons#adam headcanons#minors dni
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・﹒・ two roads
Summary: After your father racked up a huge bounty on him from being the leader of a crime gang, you finally got the courage to kill him. However, the Ghoul arrives intending to kill him unaware the man was already dead. He gives you two options- let him have the bounty and he'll offer you protection if you come with him, or be alone and at risk for other unsavory people to hunt you down.
Warnings: 18+, suggestive content, death, blood, coercion, flirty Cooper
Pairing: The Ghoul/Cooper Howard x GN!reader
Notes: H! I am now in the Fallout fandom thanks to the show. My only experience with Fallout was the mobile game Fallout Shelter lmfao played that on and off since 2017. Started a new vault tho! I got some show characters including The Ghoul >:)
Blood dripped down the knife as you stared at his lifeless corpse, your form hunched over, breathing heavy, eyes wide and frenzied, hair sticking up all over the place, staring down at the body as the red liquid stained and soaked into the floor beneath him.
You finally did it.
He wasn't a good father, but your mother helped curb his less savory habits. Well, she was gone now.
You only stayed with him out of obligation, but as the days wore on, so did he. He was born and raised up here, however your mother was a genuine Vault Dweller who left her vault and made a new life up here.
Including dating your father.
He started a small gang purely to find the people that had killed her, and ended up becoming one of the fiercest crime gang leaders in California. There was a high bounty on him and he was always on alert. Not around you though.
It was an easy stab to the heart.
You had never killed anyone before though- but your dad was the one who had raised you to protect yourself.
How ironic.
But you weren't a killer. You weren't used to being able to take someone's life with your own hands.
Things change.
You still could have sworn time stopped as you didn't move, still staring at the corpse. Should you feel bad? Guilty? Regret? Maybe. But you didn't. He wasn't a perfect father, you couldn't care less.
You didn't know how much time had passed before you heard the creaking of the front door open and steps on the floor. Whipping your body to face the source with the still bloody knife at the ready, the thing that walked through the door wasn't what you expected.
"Well now, it seems like I was too slow this time, usually I ain't" You heard of him, who didn't? He was a cowboy, ghoul bounty hunter- and the best in the country. You just didn't think he would ever cross your path despite your parents being involved with people like him. He was more a myth to you.
"Not much of a talker, eh? You his child I assume?" Still in shock over everything, you gave him a small nod as you must still look frenzied. He chuckled as he walked closer, yet you didn't move one inch, even as he gently grabbed your wrist that was holding the knife and tossed it onto the floor, plucking it from your hand with ease. You just watched as he smirked.
"Your first kill is always the roughest, don't worry though- you'll get used to it"
"Don't kill me" You meant to sound louder, firmer, it just came out as a whisper, a plea. Shaky, you watched as he just chuckled at your weakness. You may have just killed someone, but that didn't mean you didn't feel trauma from it.
"I ain't gonna kill ya, but I am claiming that bounty. Runnin' low on caps, I'm sure ya understand" A small part of you felt a bit calmer from his voice, you liked it in a very special way, but the survival part of your brain was stronger than the hormonal part, so you couldn't fully take it. You were still in shock after killing your father, after all.
"But- but I need those caps more" His eyebrow raised as he took you in, looking up and down, and it made you shiver in a way that wasn't out of fear.
"Oh really now? How about this-" He released you, causing you to stumble back a few steps and cradle your thankfully uninjured wrist.
"You let me have the bounty and I'll protect ya, meaning- you come with me" You narrowed your eyes at the last part. Protect you?
"Against what? Against who?" He was silent, telling you that it was something you certainly weren't dumb enough not to realize. After some time, it finally hit you"
"My dad's men..."
"Are not gonna be too happy to see their leader gone, killed by his only child nonetheless" The realization made your blood freeze, chills ran up your spine as you knew exactly who would go after you first and exactly how he would kill you.
"I can survive...I'll find a way" You were lying to yourself as there was no way you could live against your father's gang, but you didn't want to be protected by a stranger- who was a ghoul not to mention.
"Ok then" He stood right in front of you and leaned down- face only inches away- and put his mouth right next to your ear. Yet again, you shivered at his closeness, tingles going down your spine and at the same time, you could sense that something changed within him then.
"Don't come crying for me when you're bleeding out shot up like a shooting range" He whispered before slightly nipping at your ear and slowly pulling away, gauging your reaction. Heat consumed your entire face as you now felt the signs of arousal present in your body. Staring at him, you felt the overwhelming sense of attraction start to fester. Fuck- was he genuinely into you, playing some twisted game just to fuck with you, or trying to further manipulate you?
"I get a cut, seventy percent" Your voice was so shaky, between the arousal and the fact that he knew exactly what buttons to push, you couldn't believe you were going along with this. With him. But his face lit up at your inference of agreeing to let him protect you.
"Fifty" You then got right up to his ear, just like what he did.
"Sixty and final offer"
Hook.
"Or else I'll take my chances"
Line.
You bit his ear, giving it a small lick before pulling away.
Sinker.
His breath hitched as he looked at you with eyes full of nothing but lust and curiosity. He then suddenly grabbed your shoulders and slammed you against the closest wall, his lips ghosting yours. Your heart was hammering out of your chest as you waited in bated breaths, arousal spiking your sex.
"Come. With. Me" He was firm, but not angry. He was more...pent up, growing frustrated with you throwing back what he was giving you. You could tell he was hard without looking down.
"Something tells me there's a specific reason you want to protect me, isn't there, Ghoul?" Despite only knowing each other for less than ten minutes, you already felt comforted in his hold, and you both knew how to get under the other's skin.
The attraction was- self assured- mutual and instant.
Neither of you could or would deny it, just never admit it directly.
Instead, it would linger in the air, charged like lightening.
"And if so?" Now that the earlier tension was gone, you could fully take in all forms of him, including his accent. That accent was old, very old, so old that had to of been from pre-war. Nobody spoke like he did.
Nobody.
"I'll pack my things" Pushing him away, you walk towards your bedroom to gather a bag when you passed by your father's body and stopped.
"By the way- what part of him did they want?"
"The head"
"Go ahead, just please cover it. I...I don't want to see it" Shaking your head to rid you of that thought, you let him do...that as you ignored the sounds of mutilation as you put your best and favorites into a backpack. You were very selective about what you brought, since you know would forever be moving around. Going out into the main room again, you were surprised at what you saw, or rather, lack of. Instead of just covering the head up in some makeshift bag, he draped a curtain he ripped off from one of the rods and laid it over his body.
"Thought you didn't want to see it again at all. Now let's go, we're wasting daylight" The ball of fabric that was now connected to his belt swayed back and forth as he exited through the front door, stopping right before he walked onto the sand after he realized that you haven't moved.
"You comin'?"
#fallout#fallout series#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul#the ghoul x reader#fallout x reader
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How would all the yanderes react to a shy darling working at the casino as wait staff who attempts to keep their distance only working to pay off a debt the innocent type like a frightened kitten or bunny
You got it! Sorry for posting so much followers, I love my guys so much. I have a Gambit post incoming after this!!!
Yandere!OCS x GN Reader
Amias
He's had you as his server a few times. Admittedly, you never spoke much and got nervous easily, but he enjoys your company. It's a nice change from the other over dramatic fucks working in this damn place.
That's how he finds himself requesting you to his confused waiter one day, and then the next. Eventually, everyone just assumes he wants you as his server when he walks in. He starts ordering drinks more frequently to try and make you open up. It's just too endearing, how you avoid his questions and avert your gaze and whatnot.
You, on the other hand, are alarmed. You've never had a regular before. You immediately try to get out of it. Every day he asks for you, you're miraculously missing, busy, or on break.
It doesn't frustrate Amias in the slightest. When he's told that you're not there, he simply gets up to look for you.
No doubt, he WILL find you.
"So afraid all the time... Rightfully. You should be."
Edge
As a dealer, he doesn't get to move from his spot much. You've been formally introduced to each other before, but he's never cared much. You're not interesting to him.
On one of his late-night shifts, he notices you're still there. But... weren't you there when he came in? On his next break, he asks you about it. He doesn't seem concerned, just curious. Hesitantly, you explain that you had to pick up someone else's shift because you needed the cash. You try to explain that it's definitely not like you're in crippling debt right now, and you're totally fine.
He finds this curious. He's no doubt had to pick up shifts before in his life, but he finds it endearing how insistent you are that you're fine. When he pokes further into it, he ends up with all the information he needs.
You're such a meek little thing, he wonders how easily you'd break under his thumb.
Time passes, and he slowly starts to nudge and press against your insecurities. It's like your melting into a pool of "what the fuck" and being rebuilt over and over again. He supports you financially for a while, and you're forced to stay at his side for as long as he wants you to. Which is to say, until you're boring again.
"Love, ownership... Are they not the same?"
Double Down
He thinks you're just ADORABLE. He finds time to flirt with you, even when he's busy. He'll dedicate his executions to you, he'll watch you like a hawk from where he stands... You're like his own personal pet!
It's superficial at first. He just wants to get you in his grasp long enough to entertain him. Once he's done with you, he casts you aside again. Yet, once you're gone, he finds himself waiting for you to come back.
You don't.
You realize you've been used like an object, and timidly resign to go find a better job. (Frankly, it's good for you anyways. It's hard to watch so many people bite it each day.) You're madly, deeply, truly embarrassed that you let him win.
When DD finds out you've quit, he grows furious. Why? He doesn't know. All he knows is that you left him. NOBODY leaves him. Not until he's done with them.
Rest assured that you are completely and utterly unsafe now. Poor kitten, he'll be sure to take terrible care of you.
"Leaving me is the last mistake you'll ever make, if you want to keep your cute little eyes open."
BONUS ROUND!
Jackpot and Gambit
Jackpot just oozes confidence, so naturally you stay as far away from him as you can. He's practically the exact opposite of you. Plus, looking at him makes you nervous. Additionally, Gambit is like the boss of all bosses. There's no way you could speak to him other than a small squeak every time he regards you.
They noticed you, though. How do you think you got this job? Jackpot saw you and knew he wanted you, and Gambit followed suit as soon as he saw your poor, pitiful self.
You spilled someone's drink. Fuck. You're screwed. You're dead. You're fired. You'll crawl into a hole now, thank you. The drunk customer is enraged in an instant. He stands to throw hands, and you flinch back.
The punch never lands, however. Your knight in blue, skin-tight armor has arrived. Jackpot smiles softly at the offender, as if he wasn't holding his fist in a death grip. In a deceptively sweet tone, he explains that he doesn't tolerate any sort of violence toward the staff.
Once the customer is kindly escorted out of the establishment, Jackpot finally acknowledges you. He doesn't speak, he simply pulls your shaking form into his strong embrace. Your fear is overshadowed by intense embarrassment considering the amount of clothes he's wearing. He's warm, though.
He hushes you as he holds you, stroking your hair and swaying back and fourth. You internally wonder how this man manages to show such intimacy.
You hardly notice that there's a discussion going on around you until your arm is gently taken by... Well, fuck. Your boss is here. You're definitely fired.
Gambit chuckles in acknowledgement of your nerves, shaking his head. He doesn't seem angry, more amused. He plants a kiss to the back of your hand, asking you how you're feeling. You stumble over your words, unable to form a coherent sentence in such a situation.
They both smile fondly-- Nay, possessively-- down at you. How cute, maybe now you'll learn that they're the only ones who can protect you.
"You don't need to worry, sweet thing. We'll never let anyone hurt you again."
"I'll make sure you feel much better by your next shift. You'll have to stay with us for a while. No arguments, unless you want that debt to swallow you whole."
#yandere oc#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere boy#yandere art#yandere x darling#yandere boyfriend#yandere x you
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hello nie 👋
what is buck and tommy's first major argument about + how does it end 🎤
ohhhh jack this is such a good question!! ♡
i had to sit back and think a little bit, but what i came up with us that i think it would honestly just come down to both of them having a bad day and i think they deal with those in completely different ways. at this point, i think they have been together in a serious relationship for a decent amount of time - maybe six months or so? and i think they become very serious very quickly so six months is certainly long enough that they’re starting to feel more comfortable that the other person isn’t going anywhere, and you know how sometimes you lash out at the person you know is going to stay? yeah.
because of his childhood, i headcanon tommy as someone who finds solace in solitude, and while i think there are certainly times where he craves affection and company, i think it’s just as common that he just. needs to be alone. i think he knows that if he doesn’t get that alone time, his frustration is going to get directed at people who haven’t done anything to deserve it, and he’s certainly responsible enough to handle that and prevent it.
now, buck? buck is someone who we know to seek comfort in the people he loves. we have seen him go to eddie, to maddie, to hen, to bobby, and so on - he is just someone who needs to talk, and to feel embraced and listened to, and loved.
and tommy would absolutely be his first choice at this point - not only because he’s his boyfriend, but because tommy is tommy. he’s older, and he’s smart, and he’s kind, and he’s caring, and he always says what buck needs to hear. he never makes buck feel as if he’s too much, or too needy.
never.
until.
until.
their awful, terrible, nightmarish days happen to fall on the same day.
i don’t think either of them are awful to each other, there’s absolutely no name calling, or cursing each other out, but they just kind of… clash. i think buck really wants to just go home and sit on the couch with tommy and watch a movie (love actually is just fine because he loves watching tommy watch it) and it’s not that tommy doesn’t want that, he just needs to be alone first.
and i think this would be perfectly fine if they communicated - but they don’t. i don’t think they have the energy to do that, so it just kind of ends up being a mess where buck misses him and wants him to come over, and feels a little blown off (i don’t think tommy ghosts him but maybe his texts are a little more chilly than they usually are) while tommy feels frustrated because - he’ll be there in a few hours, if evan can just calm down and leave him alone, he’ll be fine and he’ll hold him because he needs that too, but just. not right now. (again, i think tommy isn’t as cold as buck feels he is, and buck isn’t nearly as clingy as tommy feels, i think it’s just completely exaggerated in their own heads because they’re already upset for reasons that don’t have anything to do with each other.)
this is just the pre-argument, though. i think the real argument comes later, when tommy comes over to the loft (and at this point, he’s calmed down, he’s fine, he just wants to have a good night with his boyfriend and listen to him talk about his bad day, because now he’s been alone for a while so he has the energy to do so.) and he realizes that there is still friction between them - because here’s the thing:
we have only really seen tommy from buck’s pov this go-around, and that’s why he feels so… perfect? in a lot of ways? and again, i don’t think that buck is in any way upset that tommy couldn’t come over the second he needed him - he’s a grown man, he’s fine - but i think it’s the way that he felt tommy kind of blowing him off, and not communicating. i think it makes him feel annoyed and ignored (valid) and i think it kind of drags tommy down from this pedestal he has had him on?
in the end, i think tommy snaps and i think that’s exactly what he says - something along the lines of “i’m not perfect” etc etc. and i think they argue for a while, but they ultimately end up working things out that very night. i think tommy genuinely apologizes, and so does buck - i think buck reluctantly confesses that although he has grown a lot, and worked on himself, and become more confident, he does still ultimately have this fear of being too much, and i think tommy’s face just. softens, and he tells him that he never wants him to feel that way, and that he wasn’t and would never be annoyed with buck wanting or needing him around - it was just… everything else, and terrible timing, and bad communication. and then i think tommy explains some things about his childhood that helps buck understand why he may need to be alone sometimes, and how that’s how he finds comfort and makes peace with a bad day.
in the end, they ultimately know and understand each other so much better, and they make a vow to just. communicate. and they’re falling even deeper in love with each other.
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💓The Greatest Romance of Your Life! ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card
You know you’re destined to be with your Soulmate; deep in your Soul you know there’s something beautiful already written in the stars for you and your Divine Lover★
What’s the story? What’s the drama? How will they pursue you? Aaaah! This One who will love you completely and sweetly and only! ♥︎
SONG: ohhh! by Chara
A WHOLE DREAMY VIBE: The Best of Piero Piccioni
[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]
[Patreon] [Paid Readings]
☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.
Pile 1 – That Handsome Gentle Soul
VIBE: Emily in Paris (just S1!)
your options? – 2 of Pentacles
Oh! You’re such a tease and you have many admirers, I can tell XD By the time events in your Life are leading you to a union with your Destined One, you will have quite a bit of options, and actually, you’re weighing at least two people in this scenario. Under normal circumstances, you’d consider yourself a person of traditional values. You always think to yourself that you’re a simple and straightforward person with very ‘normal’ desires.
You want the house, the security and stability, and all those ‘normal things’ that come with a marriage. It’s all understandably expected. You’ve always thought to yourself, ‘I want what is normally expected.’ People have rules in society and it is best to keep to what’s already within the guidelines. You’ll be ruminating these values and gains a lot during this time of your Life.
No matter your actual age at this time, psychologically speaking, you’d want to choose the person who seems more stable and wealthier. It sounds like such a no-brainer; but you’re finding yourself ruminating this shit to no end. And you’d wish things could be a lot simpler; after all, aren’t you simple? Oh, as it turns out, you’re really not all that simple—especially since meeting this other fucker who’s lighted up your horizon~
decisions, decisions, decisions – 10 of Cups Rx
In the beginning, you may not immediately realise that this person we’re talking about is your Destined One. By that time in your Life, you could’ve forgotten all about this reading hahah And you’d be so preoccupied with Life’s more pragmatic duties. By this time, half of you could either be in your late 20s or early 30s, being asked endlessly why you’re not married yet; another half of you could be in your early 50s and simply wanting things to settle and get ‘normal’ in your Life.
The thing is, your Higher Self has arranged for you to meet a Soulmate, a Divine Lover who will actually show you how not normal you are if you were honest with yourself LMAO This person on the outside is actually what you are on the inside if you let yourself be. This Destined One is unorthodox, they are weird in a way that suits your tastes and they somehow align with your values! You’re crazy attracted to this about them, but at some point, you will pull away from them because you’re afraid!
You’re afraid this person will pull you away from everything that’s normal and expected of you. But are you really the type of person who regards a matrimony that highly? Seriously? If you’re honest? This person will show you that they, too, don’t particularly care about the expectations of a marriage. They will show you that they care more about the love and romance and all those sweet feelings that come with being actually in love with someone you adore. No riches in the world can substitute the happiness of holding someone you love in your arms~ With this person, you understand that <3
your True Love?! – 5 of Wands Rx
The biggest reason you will pull away from your Destined One is that you’re afraid of fucking things up with this wonderful person who seems like such a grand prize. Rather than facing the reality of losing this person’s favour out of your own fucking things up, you’d rather never be with them in the first place. And that’s such a sad thing because your Destined One would never think of such things about you!
Out of all the options you could be having at this phase of your Life, you will recognise that your one and only true love is somebody who doesn’t make you feel pressured towards making a decision. I’m getting that your Destined One is very gentle and peaceful, and they’re really understanding of the kinds of negative thoughts that often encircle your mind. If anything, your Destined One will want to erase those scary thoughts from your mind. They want to put you at ease~
They’re not weak or shy though. If anything, your Destined Person is quite shameless and they will want to win you over LMAO But they won’t be forceful or pushy. They’re respectful of your boundaries. They will only continue to come forward with Love, and Love, and just Love—they do worry about you tho ;P So, occasionally you will be able to see their ‘cute side’ when they scold you because they’ve been worried sick!
FIRST KISS🔻💛
feelings pouring sweet~ – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)
the meaning of it all? – Priestess of Beauty
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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.
Pile 2 – Ahhh, You Know You Like Being Swallowed Whole~ ;P
VIBE: Green Snake (1993)
your options? – 5 of Swords Rx
At first glance, it feels to me you won’t be dealing with too many options during this time of your Life where you’re being led to a union with your Destined One; but it isn’t because you don’t have many eyes vying for your hand in marriage, nooo far from it; you, just already know who you’re gonna allow to make a move on you ;P You just already know who you want to be with! ★ And it seems to me you’re the one who’s gonna do the pursuing ;P
If you’re a feminine aenergy attracted to a masculine aenergy, you’re going to lead them on. Basically, from the moment you fell for your Destined One, they’re already in the palm of your hand. I reckon you’re the one who’s gonna recognise who your Destined Person is, and it’s all because you’re a highly spiritual entity. And honestly, you’ve been through quite a lot of shit and you’ve experienced quite a bit how other people’s negative resonance brought down your protective barriers in the past.
You don’t want to entertain low-vibing suitors anymore. You can’t stand the idea of your Life being turned upside down ugly by people whose hearts are UGLY AF. You’ve got no time for any of that. You want your Destined Person and you’ll do anything in your power to make this person fall in love with you <3 I sense a majority of you choosing this pile actually identify as a masculine aenergy attracted to a feminine aenergy regardless of your gender, which makes a lot of sense XD
decisions, decisions, decisions – Knight of Swords
In the past, you’ve dealt with people who are all over you because you’re attractive as fuck. Maybe they wanted your money, status, whatever. You’re a grand prize, you know. People would be so lucky to call you their own. And you got fucking pissed with being seen as a trophy boyfriend/girlfriend—as if you haven’t got your own personality or other achievements. How about your heart and dreams and Love, right? And you know that most people don’t value you for these things. They value you for the things that, to you, don’t matter at all!
By the time the Universe is arranging for you to be in a divine union with your spiritual Soulmate, you’ll have been single for quite a significant time. You’ve shielded yourself from cheap romances. Are you a sigma? LOL You’re honestly not even that interested in people to begin with. Most of the time, you like your own company and keep to yourself a lot. You’ll have been elusive for a number of years before you meet your Destined Person by chance~ This could be a work/professional setting but you’ll still feel like it’s a destined chance meeting hahah
The moment you catch a glimpse of your Destined Person, you feel something electrifying and know immediately this person is special—different from the rest and that you need to figure them out. Perhaps by your second or third meeting, something in you has made it clear to your conscious mind that this is The One. If you’re the masculine in this situation, it’s pretty obvious you’re going to charm them so that they open their heart to you ♡ If you’re a feminine in this situation, you’re going to tease them a lot until they know it’s perfectly alright for them as a masculine to charm you LMAO
your True Love?! – 7 of Cups
So it’s interesting to see a card of a plethora of choices after all that’s said and done. As mentioned before, you’re an attractive high-quality person who’s lusted over by many undeserving asses, and I’m getting mostly this vibe, that when you’re about to make it official with your Destined Person, there’s gonna come a negative force to try and ruin your chances. For many of you this could be anything, really, but for some of you this could be an ex, or basically someone you used to be quite close to, coming back into your Life in the hopes of winning you over. Or worse—even if they know they can’t win you over, they’re still gonna come over to taunt your Destined Person out of jealousy! OMG
If this ‘trying force’ doesn’t come from your end, this could also come from your Destined Person’s end. After all, your Destined Person is ALSO popular and a lot of people are gonna hate on you for being so close to them hahah So, you and your one True Love are gonna be viewed as that power couple and before you come together there will be forces that try and separate you. It's very likely there is a time you become quite distant from each other because of all these negative intents from your environment.
You’ve got people lining up to become your spouse and each one of them could become uncontrollably jealous when you proclaim a relationship with your Destined One XD Oh, you heartbreaker~ And in the case of an ex, or a very close ex-friend who used to harbour feelings and hopes for you, this person could well break your Destined Person’s heart and make them cry. They might even try and do something very evil to your Destined Person just to hurt YOU! This, is your lesson from the Universe to decide how you’re going to protect the one and only person you say you love~
FIRST KISS🔻💜
feelings pouring sweet~ – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)
the meaning of it all? – Priestess of Magick
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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.
Pile 3 – This the One Who’ll Sacrifice Anything for You
VIBE: Titanic (1997)
your options? – Page of Wands Rx
During this time when the Universe is arranging for you to be with your Destined Person, very strange and complex situations are happening in your Life. First, it’s possible you’re already steady/engaged/married to someone else, and this is why it seems you’re not dealing with a variety of romantic options. Two, it could just be that you’re totally NOT opening yourself up to the prospect of a relationship or even a marriage HAHAH
By this point in your Life, if you have friends or are in the public eye, it’ll have been quite obvious to everybody that you’re not the marrying type. For whatever reason, you’re quite sceptical—even cynical—about this whole notion of a relationship or a matrimony. Either you’re tired or afraid of being bound by a loveless contract. You’ve seen how people switch up and betray their spouses. You’ve heard plenty of cheating couples and broken trusts. Ain’t nobody got time to open up to horrendous crimes like that!
To everybody else, you’re an elusive siren who lives in your own world of make-believe, which annoyingly only makes you even more sought-after. At this point in your Life, you appear to the world as some sort of a rare catch and people will be sneakily trying to woo you, to win you over, because that would make them look cool. Many courageous (or should we say reckless?) warriors will attempt to break your icy castle and die in vain, never realising the whole time you were wishing for a King!☆
decisions, decisions, decisions – 10 of Pentacles
To say that you ‘don’t want to be married’ is actually quite a contrarian thing. Deep in your Soul, you want to have a wholesome, a complete and harmonious relationship with a Kingly character. You want something real that most people don’t even know how to give—because most people are shallow and infantile and so poor in character… These peasants… Sigh, they bore you to death. They disappoint to no end. But then, one day…
By some miraculous encounter you bump into your Destined One. Some miraculous encounter that wouldn’t have happened at all if some curiously specific events did not stack up a certain way. It is by Divine Design that you meet at all on that very day. That very moment you see this person, your heart jump and a voice in you exclaim, ‘Husband??’ or ‘Wife??’
Of course that’s super strange that a voice within you would say that at all. You might find it cringe or think you’ve lost all your marbles completely. ‘I think I’m delusional because I’ve been lonesome for a while…’ But soon after, you really wake up to the realisation that the Universe has sent you a pretty gift in the form of a Human who’s the perfect match for you. This person is THE IDEAL, the moment, the archetype, the everything you’ve ever dreamt a true love—your true love—would be~
your True Love?! – King of Wands
The complete package. This Destined Person, is literally YOU in a different form. They may not be perfect for any other person, but for you, all your fingers fit each other perfectly. Mind you, your Destined Person is very attractive in spite of all their flaws, so it’s not like there isn’t any competition here XP Your Destined Person is definitely somebody who turns heads when they enter a room. Even the parking lot is their runway!
This person commands respect, indeed they exude a very Kingly aenergy. They are charisma personified—very giving, honourable, even sacrificial. Your Destined Person is somebody who truly understands what it means to give back to the community. A true King who gains respect for the service he has given to his people. A King like this is truly loved and revered instead of feared. That’s the kind of aenergy your Destined Person operates with.
You will be very happy with this person. You know that, thus the exclamation upon seeing them! In spite of your apprehensions about marriage, when your King proposes, when they claim you as their Queen (LOL), you simply simply simply curiously intuitively know you’re gonna be taken care of~ And that’s such a nice feeling to have to finally feel safe with someone who truly cares for your wellbeing. Someone whom you know, at all times, will make big sacrifices just to put a smile on your face ♥︎
FIRST KISS🔻🧡
feelings pouring sweet~ – Silver Astrologer (John Dee)
the meaning of it all? – Priestess of Energy
Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸
☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.
[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]
[Patreon] [Paid Readings]
#Punk Panda Pick A Pic#pick a card#tarot pick a card#pick a card reading#pac#tarot pac#pac reading#fs#future spouse#tarot future spouse#future spouse reading#soulmate#divine counterpart#love reading#astroblr#tarotblr#witchblr#witchcore#witchythings#pucca
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