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nishirikiluv · 1 day

Text

Twisted Love Ch. 1

pairings: yandere!jay x reader

chapter warnings: supernatural elements (?). fear, swearing, drugging, a bit of non con, please let me know if i missed anything!

Sorry for taking so long to post this! I hope everyone enjoys this, I love feedback so please feel free to let me know what you think! This is my first series as well so I will do my best to make it a good read :) This is not proof read btw so I apologize for any spelling mistakes or other errors!! 🥲

It was nearly 1am and you were still in the office finishing up your work. All of your coworkers left around 10pm and the only sound filling the office now has been the click clacks of your keyboard. You haven't taken a break once today, not to eat, get a drink of water, nothing. There was some commotion earlier over a handsome new hire but you didn't have the time to worry about it. The only thing on your mind was finishing this project.

You had been assigned as a group leader for the first time since you started working here. If everything went well you could end up being promoted, so you were determined to not mess anything up.

You had been feeling hungry for a few hours now so you decided that a break would be okay if it was very short. When you got up from your chair you only then noticed how eerie the office looked when it was dark and empty like this. You pushed that thought aside and went to grab your unopened lunch from earlier. It was just some instant ramen and a bottle of soda.

You quickly made the instant ramen and sat back down at your desk to eat. Of course. you didn't want to waste too much time, so you worked a bit while you ate. Suddenly, a strange sound rung out through the large building. It sounded as if it came from afar, maybe not even the same floor you were on. Goosebumps rose on your skin and you suddenly felt extremely uneasy.

You quickly slurped the last of your ramen tossing it away, opting to finish your work tomorrow when people are still present in the office with you.

You made your way down the long narrow hallway to get to the elevator. The already dim lights flickered off and on, between flickers you could see what seemed to be a figure at the end of the hallway. After another moment, the lights settled and you realized there was someone else here with you.

You were completely struck by fear and your body froze up. The figure made its way towards you slowly. You wanted to run but you couldn't get yourself to move. The more he came in to view the more your anxiety heightened, his face was unfamiliar to you but you wondered how he could've gotten in if he didn't work here as well.

It was only a moment more before he stood directly in front of you. He seemed to tower over you, your eyes were leveled with his chest. The strange man reached his hand out to you. "Hello, I'm Jay. Nice to meet you."

What the hell?

You then looked up at him to see quite a good looking man. His facial features were chiseled and his hair was blonde and looked soft and silky. His eyes bore into you in a way that had the hairs on the back of your neck sticking up.

"Are you just going to stare at me? Or are you going to introduce yourself as well." He gestured to his hand that was still awaiting your handshake.

You hesitantly took his hand in yours to shake it. His grip became uncomfortably tight but you gulped down the anxiety that started to rise. "I'm... Y/n. Um it's late, I should probably head home now." You forced a smile, pulling your hand from his and rushing down the hall, not giving him another chance to speak.

He turned to watch you. His eyes never left you through your entire walk down the hallway until you entered the elevator. The lights flickered again as he stood in the hallway, a sinister smirk painted across his face.

It won't be long now, my love.

You rushed home as fast as possible, triple checking the locks on your doors and windows. You don't know what this extremely uneasy feeling was, but you wanted to avoid that man at all costs.

You tried not to think about him and chose to change and get into bed. His face kept appearing every time you closed your eyes. You'd even been startled awake so many times by phantom sounds of his voice calling your name.

You got up to grab a cold bottle of water. You weren't sure if it was paranoia but you heard a cracking sound coming from your room where you'd just left. You grabbed a knife from the kitchen, holding the water bottle under your arm and slowly approached your room.

You took a deep breath before slowly opening the door. You looked everywhere and there was no one to be found. You were relieved but you felt embarrased for hearing those mysterious sounds all night and ruining your sleep over them. You also weren't able to finish your project and that bothered you even more.

You laid down, attempting to sleep once more. Of course having the same outcome and not being able to get enough rest.

Before you knew it your alarm was ringing and it was time to get up and get ready for work. You rushed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face and haphazardly applying your makeup. You could see dark circles under your eyes but you were too tired to care and the throbbing headache you had was an additional factor to your lack of energy. You quickly got changed and rushed out of the house to get to work.

When you arrived at work you heard more commotion of that new hire. You couldn't have cared less until you caught sight of him. You could see everyone crowding near the desk he was working at. He payed them no mind, just focussing on getting tasks done. Thats when it hit you, it all suddenly made sense. Jay was the handsome man everyone was talking about. That's how he got in last night.

You didn't realize you'd been staring at him as well until he looked up and his eyes met yours. You snapped out of your trance and hurriedly got situated at your desk. After a couple moments he was behind you, spinning your chair to have you face him. You jumped in your seat with a gasp, grabbing onto the arms of the chair. "Jay- What are you-" "I'm joining your group for the project, our supervisor told me to let you know." You looked around seeing the shared whispers between your co workers. You never liked attention, it made you anxious. "You could've told me that without scaring the shit out of me." You rolled your eyes turning your chair back around, but he stopped you. "Is.. there something else." He nodded. You stared at him, shifting uncomfortably and waiting for him to speak. His eyes traced over you, leaving you with the same feeling from the night before.

He leaned closer to you, causing you to back up and leaving you pressed into the desk. His face was inches away from yours and your heart was pounding in your chest. His eyes scanned your face and he softly chuckled, "Stay late after work today, Y/n."

You couldn't formulate a reply, not that he would've waited for one anyways. He left you stuck to your desk and returned to his work without another word. You took a deep breath and gathered yourself, turning back around. You sat idle at your desk for a while.

"Y/n, what was that all about?" One of your coworkers sat at the desk next to yours with a judgemental look on her face. "What? Oh, you mean Jay. Nothing, he was just letting me know he's going to be part of my group for the project." She sighed, "Ah that makes so much sense!" She turned away to her group of friends. They all whispered loudly enough for you to hear. "Of course it was just because of work," one of the girls scoffed. "obviously he wasn't interested in her, shes not that attractive." You rolled your eyes, ignoring their remarks.

You glanced up to see Jay looking over at you. You tried your best to ignore the feeling of his gaze but at one point you'd had enough. You made your way over to the restroom just to have a few minutes without being watched. What's his deal?

You carried on with your day, zoning out everything around you. Once it hit 10pm, everyone began packing up their things and leaving.

"Y/n." You looked up to see Jay hovering over your desk. "Ah, Jay.. you'd asked me to stay late after, right? " He nodded, taking the seat next to you. He pulled your chair in front of his, you sucked in a breath making eye contact with him now. "Is... is this about work..?" He chuckled, placing his hand on your knee. "Of course, I'm just curious about the project." He rubbed your thigh, causing your body to go stiff beneath his touch. "Jay- I-" You quickly grabbed his hand, forcing it to stop. "I have to go." You stood up grabbing your bag and heading for the elevator. He followed shortly after you, his steps matched your pace. He walked slower when you slowed down and he walked faster when you sped up. Once you were inside the elevator you rapidly pressed the button waiting for the door to close. Unfortunately you weren't quick enough, right before it closed he swung his bag through the small gap causing the doors to re-open.

You gasped and harshly pushed your back against the wall of the elevator. He slammed his hands on either side of your head. The dark look in his eye made shivers run down your spine. "You know, it was quite rude how you left just now." You lifted your head to look at him, your eyes welled up with tears formed by fear. You weren't able to speak, he didn't seem to mind your lack of reply though.

You felt uncomfortable by the close proximity between the two of you. The ride in the elevator felt like an eternity to both you and him, for different reasons though of course. Neither of you were able to take your eyes off each other. For you, it was fear. For him, it was lust.

The elevator finally came to its stop, the door opening. "I'II let you go now. Baby. But we'll talk about this later." He left a soft kiss on your forehead before exiting the elevator. You were left with a single tear rolling down your face.

You eventually made it home, but of course you were pretty shaken up. You felt so dirty. The second you put your things down you got into the shower. The steaming hot water was all you needed right now. You took a nice long shower and prepared to sleep.

You sat on your bed checking your missed messages when a loud thump was heard. It sounded like it came from your balcony. You got up and peeked through the blinds but there wasn't anything there, so you sat back down. But it happened again. And again. And again. This time you went outside, you looked below, to the sides, and above. But there was nothing. What the hell is going on?

You leaned against the railing, looking out at the street. It seemed to be peaceful, the road wasn't too busy, and the sky was full of stars. It would have been a perfect night

You took a deep breath getting ready to go inside when a hand suddenly clasped over your mouth. You kicked and screamed into the hand. The person's other hand held tightly onto your waist to prevent your thrashing. Their hand was removed from your mouth for less than a second before a cloth was pressed back against it. You tried prying it off but their grip was too strong and so eventually, you lost conciousness.

You woke up on the floor of an empty room with white walls. It was dark but not to the point where you couldn't see. You sat up holding your head in your hands, you felt groggy and had a painful headache.

You looked around the room but there were no windows and no way out other than a single door that you assumed would be locked.

As if on queue you heard the locks being opened and someone came through the door. The lights flipped on and your breath hitched in your throat. "Jay...

"Hello, Y/n." His saccharine smile made you feel sick. "Why did you bring me here." He knelt down in front of you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Isn't it obvious, I wanted to see you." You pushed his hand away, "Well I don't want to see you." He cooed at you, lifting his hand back up to caress your cheek. "One day you won't feel that way anymore." You pushed him away again but this time he wasn't having it. He pinned you against the cold floor, holding you by your waist. You pushed at his shoulders but he wouldn't budge. His eyes studied every inch of you. Oh how he loved to see you vulnerable like this beneath him. You felt his lips on your neck and immediately you were kicking and punching. He had no trouble holding you down, he liked it more when you put up a fight.

He only stopped when he heard your soft frustrated sniffles. "Shhh Baby, It's not that bad. You'll get used to me." You shook your head, holding back a sob. Jay got up leaving you on the ground. He left the room momentarily, but came back within seconds. He got down and pulled you in for a hug, inhaling your scent. You were too tired to fight him this time, he could tell, so he placed a short peck on your lips while he could. After that you felt a small poke in your neck and you were out like a light.

You woke up to your usual alarm. You shot up looking around, feeling distraught. You were in your bed in your room. But you could've sworn you were with Jay? You had been very stressed with anxious thoughts after the incident in the elevator so could it have been a dream?

It just felt so real.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x you #yandere enhypen #enhypen imagines #jay park x reader #jay x reader #yandere jay #enhypen jay #enhypen jay x reader

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cuubism · 2 months

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I'd love something about Dream who's very aware that he's way too intense romantically while also being not intense enough sexually because he's ace. His partners usually prefer it the other way around. If that's something you'd be willing to write (if not that's okay too)

hmm yes, we can always do ace dream. though we didn't quite reach 'aware' 😂 human uni au is what popped to my mind

When Hob gets back from class, Dream is lying facedown on the couch, one long arm trailing morosely down to the floor, face smashed so deeply into a pillow that Hob can only see the tufts of his hair. He seems to have been there for some time, and doesn't move when Hob comes in.

"Horrors insurmountable today?" Hob asks as he puts down his bag and heads to the adjoining kitchen to grab a snack. He'll probably need to grab one for Dream, too, now that he thinks about it. Doubtful he's eaten.

Dream just makes an mmph sound against his pillow. Then, once Hob's returned to the living room with a plate of apple slices, Dream pops his head up, lines all over his cheek from the pillow, fluffy hair going every which way, and says, "How much do you care about sex?"

Hob nearly trips and flings his apple slices everywhere. "What?"

"In general," Dream persists, heedless of Hob's shock. "Do you subscribe to the belief that individuals past puberty, particularly men, think about sex constantly, or is that an exaggeration? Which do you think is more important in a partnership: compatible personalities, or compatible sex drives? And why?"

"What is this, a sociology assignment?"

"Answer, please," Dream insists.

Hob sighs and gives in to the mad questioning. Joke's on him for having an insane roommate. "I thought about sex all the time when I was thirteen, maybe. Right now I'm just thinking about how I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm fucking starving but we're playing Twenty Questions instead of eating. And as to the second one, I don't know, Dream, I think both are probably important."

"So you think about sex an amount you would consider 'frequent'," Dream presses.

Hob's cheeks heat. Sex is not really a topic he wants to discuss with Dream of all people. Those two thoughts don't meld together into anything good for polite company. "I don't know, I guess!? Doesn't everyone?"

Dream lets out a despairing wail and thumps his head back into his pillow. "I am outnumbered."

Hob still has no idea what the hell he's on about. He finally gives up and just starts eating the apple slices. He offers one to Dream, holding it by the corner of his eye until he finally sees it and takes it, turns his head to the side just enough to start nibbling on it.

"You'll choke if you eat that lying down," Hob warns.

Dream begrudgingly pushes himself up, collapsing against the back of the couch, and goes back to nibbling on his apple slice.

"So," Hob continues, awkwardly, when Dream doesn't say anything else, "sex life not going so well, then?"

Dream glares at him, though it's not very intimidating considering the apple halfway into his mouth. "Too well, by most standards," he finally sniffs, and eats the rest of the slice.

"Oh, yeah?" Dream having sex is another thing Hob doesn't really like to think about. Why'd he bring that up again?

"Indeed. I have suitors falling over each other to bed me," Dream says.

Do all classic literature students talk the way Dream does? Hob doesn't know. It's been two years that they've lived together and he's still yet to definitively figure out if it's an affectation or just the way Dream is. He's leaning towards the latter.

Unfortunately, he can believe Dream's statement. Dream is a snitty little prick most of the time, but he's also unbearably beautiful.

"So what's the problem, then?" he asks.

"I don't want them to bed me," Dream says.

Hob's not following. "Say no, then?"

Dream rolls his eyes. "I don't want them to bed me, I want them to want me." His voice loses some of its determination halfway through the sentence, and he looks away.

Ouch. "Sounds like they do want you?"

Dream snorts. "Only so long as it suits them. Only so long as I fit their parameters. Today I spoke to Cori--"

Ah, yes, Cori, Dream's most recent ex-boyfriend. Dream's had a lot of ex-boyfriends, but Cori really tops the list, and not in a good way.

Now that Hob thinks about it, all of Dream's relationships kind of go the same way. Dream comes home after the first date bouncing off the walls with stars in his eyes insisting this person's the one, and within two months the thing's somehow torpedoed into the Underworld and Hob's scraping Dream up off the bathroom floor.

He's starting to see where the initial line of questioning might have come from.

"--and he, at last, was straightforward with me when no one else has bothered to be all this time. I demanded to know, truthfully, why he ended things, and he told me that I 'care too much, but won't put out'--"

Hob winces.

"--which does not make sense, as we had sex frequently? I do not know what else I am meant to be 'putting' and where. I said as much, and he laughed, and said--" he imitates Cori's voice with a surprisingly passable American accent-- "'It only counts if you at least pretend you want to be there, doll. Next time try initiating occasionally.' He left before I could question him further."

Hob doesn't like the picture this is painting. And Dream is looking at him beseechingly, like Hob might be able to explain the bizarre encounter. "So... now you're trying to figure out if your understanding of sex is wrong or something?"

"I felt that, as a neutral observer to the situation, you would be appropriate to survey," Dream says.

(Neutral is a stretch, Hob thinks.)

"So I ask you, Hob Gadling, as a man demonstrably unbothered by 'hookup culture'--"

"Are you calling me a slut?"

"--what do you think is the correct amount that one should care about sex? Because I--" he breaks off, twisting his fingers in his hair, suddenly anxious-- "I do not know what I am doing wrong."

Hob moves to sit beside him, lays a hand lightly on his arm. He's about to say, you're not doing anything wrong, except... that may not precisely be true. At least in terms of how Dream is actually handling it with his partners.

"How much do you care about sex?" he asks.

"Not as much as I am supposed to, evidently," Dream says. Hob just waits for him to elaborate. "Not very much. I prefer not to think about it." He looks at Hob, weary. "Now you will tell me that this is abnormal."

"I don't know what's 'normal'," Hob says. "But it does sound different from how Cori felt about it."

"I suppose," Dream says, sadly.

Hob doesn't particularly like where the intersection of 'I don't care about sex' and 'we had sex all the time' lands him. "If you don't care that much, why keep doing it?"

"It is what is done, is it not?" says Dream. "Besides. I do not mind so much. But even when I do participate, it is still not good enough. Or so it seems."

It's because they're picking up on the fact that you're not really enjoying it, Hob thinks. No one wants a partner who's not engaging. Least not anyone decent. But not saying anything and then just dipping out suddenly is kind of a dickish move, in his opinion.

"Do you want to participate?" he asks.

This seems to give Dream pause. "Mostly I would prefer to do other things. Like. Dates. Only that does not seem much appreciated either." He twists his hands together. "Perhaps Cori is right. I. Care too much."

"No." Hob takes Dream's hands and untwists them. "Cori's a dickhead. You just need to find someone who's on the same page as you, that's all."

"But it seems that book is rather empty," Dream says. He hasn't taken his hands back from Hob.

"Well, was there anyone that you did like having sex with? Or has it always just been--" he can't help but cringe-- "you just putting up with it because you thought you were supposed to?"

"Calliope," Dream says instantly, and Hob lets out a relieved breath. At least it's not all bad. "Because, no matter that it ended poorly... I felt that she truly liked me. And not. Just sex."

"Okay, see?" he says. "You just have to find someone like that."

It... hurts, to try to push Dream into someone else's path. But Hob's long accepted that Dream doesn't feel that way about him. Dream rarely seems hesitant about trying to date anyone he is interested in. Surely if he felt that way about Hob, he would have made it clear by now.

"Someone," Dream echoes, looking down at their joined hands.

"Just because what you want isn't common doesn't mean it's not out there," Hob says, trying to be encouraging. "And hey, if you know now, you can avoid the whole 'not on the same page' rigamarole, hm?"

"Yes," Dream says. "I suppose so." Finally he takes back his hands, instead taking another apple slice from the plate Hob's left on the coffee table and chewing on it slowly.

I would love you right, Hob thinks, unwanted, unbidden. It's not a productive thought, and it's a painful one, too.

"Perhaps I will take a break," Dream decides, though doesn't sound entirely happy about it.

"Could be good," Hob says. "Get your head on right."

"Yes," Dream agrees. "This has been. Illuminating. I thank you for your counsel. I suppose I will have to also thank Cori, 'dickhead' though he may be."

And with that he retreats to his room, still seeming a little off-kilter. And Hob can't help but feel like he's gone wrong somewhere, said something wrong, though he doesn't know where, or what.

#i don't actually know if you specifically wanted dreamling or what whoops #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #ask #anonymous #ace dream #left it on a cliffhanger goddammit but they just didn't seem emotionally aware enough to confess their feelings then XD

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ayanominitrash · 5 months

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cross my mind - Gojo x reader

When a cute girl riding her bike in Jujutsu High strolls past Satoru, he almost breaks his neck trying to follow the fleeting figure.

He had to blink twice behind his blindfold to make sure he wasn't just seeing things. He's spent nearly half of his life in the Jujutsu High Tokyo Branch, and he's certain that it's his first time seeing a stranger. Could it be a student from the Kyoto Branch? He wasn't informed of any transferees or visitors. Well, he might have been slacking off and not attending the faculty meetings nowadays, but still. Someone must've not inform him. The tall man thinks he'll give his assistant, Ijichi, a slap later if this turns out to be true.

He stands there for a few seconds, wondering if he should ask her questions, but then again, it might have been just his imagination. Plus, he's already running late to meet his students for a mission.

He carries on his way and exits the campus.

Satoru doesn't even remember that encounter happening until he sees the same girl on the bike again when he comes back from the mission. She was just about to leave the school gates when Satoru put a large hand up to stop her.

"Woah, woah. Excuse me," he says in a firm voice, "but you can't be riding a bike here. Also, are you lost?"

You skid to a stop beside him, planting your sneaker-clad feet on either side of your blue bike. Up close, Satoru can see you clearly and confirms his initial thought of this stranger being cute, especially with how your short-sleeved pastel blue summer dress flows in the breeze, the ends of the skirt slightly riding up past your knees. and the white collar of it folding up to your chin a bit. His hand was itching to fix it for you for some reason.

Why is he thinking about that now? Focus, Satoru.

You stare back at him blankly, indicating that you haven't heard what he is saying. He repeats, and as he's speaking, his eyebrow shot up in his blindfold in his realization that you have no cursed energy.

"I'm not lost," you finally say. "Also, do you not know how far and wide this place is? I couldn't possibly manage myself on foot."

Satoru is slightly taken aback by your bluntness. "If you're not lost, then you do know this is a monastery, right? You can't ride your bike here."

"I'm actually aware this is also a school. But if that is the practice here, I was just about to leave anyway, so… let me off the hook?"

"I'm actually a faculty member here, so…"

"I know who you are."

He pauses. "You do?"

"Satoru Gojo. I heard that I'd know you from your height and blindfold."

"And what about for my incredible good looks?" He smirks. He just couldn't help himself.

"I have yet to see, my guy."

Satoru lifts up the left side of his blindfold to take a peek down at you—or more so, flaunting his captivating blue eyes—so he was told. His smirk is still in place as he pats his blindfold back down over his eye. "Anyway, as a faculty member, I have to know what business you have here."

You lean forward to rest both arms on the top of the bike's handlebars, a bored look on your face. "Trust me, I didn't want to bike my way up here, but my dumb cousin left his lunch, and it was up to me to save the day."

"Cousin?"

You look up at him with a straight face. "Yaga-kun."

Shivers.

Shivers are what Satoru felt up his spine.

What are the odds that the one non-curse user or sorcerer he decides to kind of flirt with is the cousin of his boss and sensei? Gross.

He doesn't miss a beat. "Carry on then."

"Hey, that's it? How do you know I'm not lying?" You ask as he starts walking away.

"No one calls that cranky geezer like that around here. Pretend this never happened, yeah? It'll both do us good, I think."

He doesn't look back at you again, but he does throw a goodbye wave over his shoulder. You pout as you watch him walk deeper into the campus before strolling away.

♡

Quite some time has passed since Satoru last saw you on your bike, but sometimes during the day, he'll recall the brief encounter and wonder how you were doing. He never dared to bring it up and ask Yaga-sensei. Who knows what trouble he'll stir up if he learns he might've been kind of flirting with his cousin?

But there you are again, and Satoru, again, has to blink behind his blindfold just to make sure that it was in fact you, walking on along the outskirts of the training ground he and his first years are in. He watches you quietly with his hands on his hips while his students carry on with their training, obliviously. Your gaze was fixed on his students and on him while walking, holding what seemed to be a lunch bag in your small hands. He notes that you're not wearing a summer dress this time. What adorns your body is instead a white long-sleeved shirt and a grey long skirt that goes down above your ankles, feet covered in brown dress shoes. He doesn't miss the way your lips turn into a slight upward smile, which he finds cute, but he immediately has a hand slashing across his neck, meaning to not acknowledge him in front of his students. Something flashes on your features—disappointment maybe? before you look back forward and continue walking as if you never saw them.

"Who's that?" One of his students, Yuji, says while lowering his shinai, staring up at your fleeting figure.

"She's pretty. I've never seen her here before, though," Kugisaki pipes while wiping a sweat off her brow.

Satoru hums. You are pretty.

"Do you know her, Sensei?" Megumi asks beside him in his usual monotone voice.

"I have never seen her before in my entire life."

"Eh? Then she might be lost then? I sense no cursed energy." Yuji says, "May I be excused, Gojo-sensei?"

"No!" Satoru abruptly answers, making his students jump a bit. He quickly fixes his demeanor by clearing his throat. "As a faculty member, I'll go and see what's up, yeah? You students keep on training 'til I come back."

With that, he wastes no time teleporting to where he thinks you will be.

"What's with that blindfolded idiot?" Kugisaki asks while readying her stance to spar with Megumi again.

"Blindfolded idiot? You've been hanging around too much with Maki-senpai," Yuji comments, earning a whack on his head.

♡

You were quietly walking through the empty hallways of Jujutsu High when suddenly Satoru, in all his tall glory, came into view from around the corner.

"Gojo-sama?" You stop in your tracks as you come face-to-face with him.

You can't entirely read his expression with his blindfold, but you thought the tips of his ears turned pink just now.

"Hello, you. Lunch again?"

You frown before sidestepping him to continue your way down the hallway. "Again? We haven't met before, have we?"

"Aww, someone's got their panties in a bunch?"

You swirl around at him, face all red and a scandalous look on your face in response to what he just said. He tries but fails to not laugh at you.

You continue walking.

"Well, then how about a proper introduction this time? Satoru Gojo. You?"

A few beats of silence, then, "Masamichi, Y/N."

"Hmm, Y/n. And will I be seeing you around enough for me to remember that?"

"I hope not. It's so hard to travel here."

"Not without your bike? You listened to me, eh? A good girl you are."

You ignore the summersaults your heart just did at the name he gave you. "Well, I'm an outsider, so I don't really want to cause any trouble."

"I thought you'd use your cousin-of-the-principal privilege."

"Not everyone is a brat like you, Gojo-sama."

"Oh, and how would you know?"

"My cousin's your boss, remember?"

He heartily chuckles at that.

You've decided you like that sound.

"Why are you here anyway? Don't you have class in session?"

"One of my students was going to come up to you, thinking you were lost. I can't let either one of you talk behind my back now."

"You're so self-centered."

He scoffs but doesn't reply, and you don't say anything as well.

Soon, you find yourself watching Satoru open the sliding doors for you to your cousin's office.

"Y/n! Finally." The brawny man behind the desk straightens up in his chair, only to deflate once again when he sees who you're with. "What are you two doing together?"

"So no hi—hello, my favorite student and co-worker?" Satoru says while sliding the door shut behind him.

"Get out."

You walk up to the desk, "Yaga-kun, I didn't think you'd be so mean, especially how I just have to bring your lunch to you again. You don't even provide me transportation; I had to go on foot."

"What happened to your bike?"

Satoru clears his throat.

"Well." You start, "Just because I have a bike doesn't mean it's okay for you to keep counting on me to bring your forgotten lunch."

"Alright," the grown man sulks, "I'll try to remember it this time."

"You should! I have classes to teach, you know."

"You a teacher then?" Satoru pipes in, genuine interest laced in his voice.

Both you and Yaga-kun look back at the tall man, now sprawled on one of the guests' couches.

"Yes - "

"You don't have to answer that buffoon," he grumbles, to which Gojo pouts. "Also, why am I under the impression that you two know each other? Did I miss something?"

"I have never seen her before in my entire life."

When your cousin looks back at you for confirmation, you only shrug at him. "Well, I suppose I should introduce you to each other. Y/n, Gojo Satoru, a pain in the ass. Gojo Satoru, Y/n, another pain in the ass, but my distant cousin."

You stick your tongue out to Satoru, and he chuckles again.

He finds you too cute.

"Who's older then? Does she need to address me in some way other than 'your highness'?"

You can definitely see the vein almost popping from Yaga-kun's forehead after hearing Satoru's boastful words, "I think you're a year older than her. That doesn't matter. Y/n, I'll make sure to remember my lunch this time; I don't want you to catch this fool's crudeness."

The tall man feigns hurt while you only roll your eyes but can't stop yourself from smiling.

♡

Yaga-sensei was not kidding about remembering his lunch because months had gone by and Satoru was beginning to forget the sound of your voice.

His students asked who you were after that encounter, and he simply said that it was the principal's distant cousin. He also tells his students to make sure to tell him when you're spotted on campus again so he can assist you. "She was lost, and she told me she's forgetful. It's better if I lead the way, yeah? Being a faculty member and all."

All three of his students' eyebrows were raised.

After some time, Satoru finds himself hiding Yaga-sensei's lunch bag just so he can get the chance to see you again. He doesn't know why he would go do something as snatching someone's lunch for a non-sorcerer, let alone for his boss's cousin, but what he does know is that he misses the back-and-forth banter between you two and he misses your cute little reactions whenever he says something that caught you off-guard. He misses how you make his heart flutter. Like, who else is he going to flirt with on campus? Plus, he's bored out of his mind because his students and co-workers are busy, and he should be too, but that's not important right now.

He'd hide the lunch bag at lunch time, but if you don't come after the day, he secretly returns it. After a couple of attempts at scheming,, none of it seems to work and he decides to keep it a bit longer.

Still nothing.

In desperation, Satoru finds himself whistling nonchalantly as he strolls into the principal's office, pretending to be intrigued by the paintings hung up on the walls.

"What the hell are you doing here, Satoru?" The principal grumbles. "Stop slacking off."

"I am nooootttt. Can't I pay my Sensei a visit?"

"No."

"Hmm, then you don't want this, then?"

He holds up the lunch bag he'd stolen two days ago, which he doesn't dare to open, dreading the impending doom of stench that might seep out of it.

"I've been wondering where that went. Where did you find it?" The man looks almost relieved, like a thorn was pulled off his side. "I've been thinking that there's some type of cursed spirit lurking and hiding my stuff, specifically my lunch, for some reason."

"Aren't you glad? Since this has been missing, does that mean your cousin what's-her-face had to visit recently?"

He grits his teeth. "You mean Y/n."

"Yeah, Y/n, yeah. Her."

Shameless.

He'll take any excuse to say your name at this point.

Desperate and shameless, the man that he is.

"She's a teacher for a high school and a college, and this time around is usually a busy time for teachers since it's finals. Something that should also be applicable to you too, right? Satoru."

The man in question only smiles at him.

"So, teacher, huh? Do you also go to her school every once in a while?"

"None of your business, Satoru. Go back to your class."

"Okay, then where is this high school or college?"

"I said OUT."

Satoru can only pout in defeat.

But only for a while.

As mentioned, he was a desperate and shameless man. He purposefully continues to slack off on his duties for the rest of the day, shutting down Ijichi's pleas about important meetings and about this and that - blah,blah, blah. A man needs his big ball of sunshine, you see. And he finds himself thinking of you because of that statement.

The fact that you're his sensei's cousin doesn't even bother him anymore; he really just wants to see you.

So there he was, finally out of his uniform and blindfold, covered in a dress shirt with his glasses instead, traveling across the city in hopes of bumping into you. He knows it would almost be impossible, especially with you having no curse energy, so he can't pinpoint you in the crowd, but he might as well grab his favorite snacks in town and relax from all the hard work he hasn't been doing at all lately. After a while of cafe-hopping and people-watching, he quickly began to get bored and decided to look up the nearby high schools and colleges, hoping your name would pop up.

Desperate and shameless.

He finds your public profile on a website of what looks like a joint elementary and high school establishment.

Now that wasn't too hard. He wishes he had done this sooner.

♡

"What on earth are you doing here?"

You cross your arms across your chest, your eyes looking around the kid's school park, wary of any eyes that might be looking at the two of you and getting the wrong idea. Your self-consciousness cause you to bring your cardigan closer together as it rests over your long floral summer dress. Luckily, classes are still in session, so no one was around to see the two of you. You have no idea why this man, someone you met briefly ages ago and just a co-worker of your grouchy cousin, has turned up at your workplace.

Satoru was grinning up at you as he slightly swayed in his swing. He almost looks funny all folded up like that in a child's seat.

"I came to give you this. Sensei doesn't like me doing any favors, so just tell him that it was delivered to you or something."

Placed in your hands, you see the old lunch bag in which you usually pack your cousin's lunch in the mornings.

"I've been giving him hell for losing this. But did you really just come all the way here to give this to me?"

"I was on my day off, and I figured I'd give this to you personally, you know, because what's inside is probably gross right now."

"You didn't even empty the contents?"

"Who do you think I am?"

"Um, a creep who just showed up to the place I work?"

"I could say the same thing to you back then."

You scoff, clutching the lunch bag in your hands a little too hard. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Gojo-sama?"

"Not even a thank you?" He grins cheekily, and you're starting to get a little annoyed.

Annoyed at how good-looking he is right now, especially with how you can see his blue eyes peer up at you through his glasses.

It's making you squirm a bit under his gaze.

"Thanks."

A pause, then, "By the way, how come I've never seen you around here before?"

"Hm? I just recently moved in next to my cousin's house."

"Ah, I see."

Satoru grins and stands up to stretch his arms over his head. You immediately looked away when the open top buttons of his dress shirt showed a little too much of his skin enough for it to be inappropriate. "Well, I gotta get going and savor my day off."

"Gee, I wish I had one too. Finals season is always hell. I can imagine yours is too."

"Yeah, definitely. Totally."

"Alright, I better get going."

You turn around and start walking, but you change your mind and whip back around, only to find him stopping a few steps from you.

"Is there something - ?" "How about you - ?"

The two of you start to talk at the same time, only to laugh at each other.

"You first," you say after the last giggle.

"Nah, I feel like I've been talking for a long time. You go."

"Well, how about I go on and accompany you on the rest of your day off? I could use a mini break."

To this end, Satoru scratches the back of his nape. You immediately add, "It's okay if you'd rather."

"No. I mean, come with me, yeah. That was what I was gonna say too. It was getting boring being by myself."

You smile. "Okay. Should we meet at the cafe? I'll just finish a few tasks and then I'm done."

"Of course. Do your thing. I'll wait."

With that, you start walking back. After a few steps, you peek behind you only to see the tall man punching a fist into the air.

Of course, he didn't come all the way here just to give you some old, crusty lunch bag.

Little did he know that you were almost desperate enough to pull the same trick on him just so you could see him again.

Almost desperate and shameless, the woman that you are. ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖ (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere // Finally, I posted again :)) I've been trying to write for Naoya but I find it difficult to write his character - Satoru is the easiest to write for me, cus we alot alike ♡

#gojo jjk #jjk gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #fanfic #jujustu kaisen #yaga masamichi #fluff #teachers #yuji itadori #kugisaki nobara #megumi fushiguro

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brooooswriting · 10 months

Note

A very timid Hello from your best customer broko loco anyway hi I'm out of my request block anyway

How about some hurt/comfort with our baby gurl

Tara Carpenter

I had two prompts in mind either Tara having a nightmare about Gf killing R Orrrrrrr It was her killing R (

SPOILER IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN SREAM VI YOU'VE BEEN WARNED

(because she killed Ethan so her subconscious is making her see herself killing R) so R comforts her and reassures her

R getting into a fight when she was taking a stroll with Tara and Sam because some 4ssh0l3$ called our Fav duo murderers so Tara is patching up R afterwards

R taking care of T after the 2nd massacre like bringing her thing (painkillers, snacks, food, cuddles)

Those were my ideas but you can also do whatever you want Idm

Have a good day broko loco <3

Motherfucker

Tara Carpenter x reader

A/n: so I haven’t really been writing lately and I need to get back into it so yeah

“It’s just so much you know” Tara complained as you two and Sam walked around New York City. It was a small tradition you build up as soon as you moved here. You walked around to figure out the best ways through the city, it made Sam feel safer while you and Tara just liked to walk around. Her hand was slipped into yours, fingers carefully intervened.

Tara loved complaining about college during these walks, you loved listening to her and Sam would do anything for her little sister. There were a lot of people who didn’t recognized you guys but some did. Nobody ever said something, you were unsure of wether it was because of sams killer glare or just their common sense but you were happy about it.

You knew them during the attacks in woodsboro but you weren’t with them. At least not until the end, you and Tara kept your little flirt private which was why you weren’t attacked. You only arrived when everybody else was dead, you were at the party and you forgot your phone which was why you turned around. The way Tara broke down into your arms made you believe everything she told you, there was no way that she faked that.

“I know, but you’ll be fine. You’re a fighter through and through and something like college won’t bring you down” you told her, squeezing her hand for good measure. “She’s right, you’re gonna do great” Sam added smiling at her sister before checking the street over her shoulder.

You walked through a small park where a group of three boys, around 22, sat and watched the three of you. You watched them suspiciously, slipping your hand out of Tara’s and instead slipping your arm around her waist to pull her closer. Tara smiled up at you, unaware of the situation while Sam looked out for a man around the corner. You listened carefully, hoping to hear any kind of movement but it was quite for a moment.

“Look, that’s the murderer and her slut sister. I knew I recognized them from somewhere” one of the boys said causing you to slow down. “Fucking murderer. Both of them. They should have ended dead” another one added which made you stop. “I’d still fuck the slut tho” the third one said which finally made you snap. You turned on your heel and stalked over to the group. “What did you just say?!” You nearly screamed out on your way, Tara still standing at the same spot completely confused while Sam had a stare down with the man around the corner.

“What’s your problem huh?” You asked again, stepping up to the one who said he’d fuck Tara. “I could ask you the same thing, why don’t you go away with your two murderer friends?” He asked puffing out his chest, trying to scare you. At every other time you’d probably been scared but not now, now all you could feel was rage. “Say that again and watch what happens asshole” you dared. “They are murderer” the one next to him said. You were quick to punch him straight in the face, his nose immediately started bleeding and his eye started to swell. The one you talked to before drew his arm back but you were quick enough to dodge it, not seeing the third one make his way towards you, his fist landing in your stomach causing you to groan. You turned as quick as you could, your fist landing in his stomach this time before you turned and kicked the other one to the ground.

By now Sam was done with her stare down and finally noticed your fight, “fuck y/n” she mumbled and went to your help but Tara held her back. “She will kill you if you go there, she’s fighting because they called you a murderer and if you hit them it will be contra productive” she explained, it pained her to see you like this but she knew you were strong and she didn’t want Sam to suffer even more.

It took you five more minutes before they finally gave up, your face and hands were bruised and you were spitting blood but you won. “Gosh, you’re so stupid” Tara mumbled as she ran up to you and hugged you, pulling you close to her which caused you to wince. “Are you alright?” Sam asked as she walked closer, wrapping an arm around you shoulder. “M fine. Thanks. Can we maybe go back?” Both of them nodded and turned around to walk back to your apartment.

This time Tara wasn’t holding your hand, she was scared that she’d hurt you. The nervousness and the guilt was radiating off of her, so you wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her into you which made her calm down. Sam was also somewhere else with her mind but you knew that something like a hug wouldn’t fix that and you knew she wasn’t going to talk about it in front of Tara so you decided to ask her about it later.

When you arrived home Tara immediately ran to the bathroom to get some things for your knuckles, giving you a moment with Sam. “You alright?” You asked her quietly so T wouldn’t hear.

“Yeah, it’s just that… thank you y/n. You protected us and you stood up for us. It was the nicest thing anyone ever did for us so, thanks” she answered squeezing your shoulder before disappeared into her room.

“I got everything that may be helpful. Like gauze, disinfectant, bandaids and some other stuff” she told you, quickly pulling everything out and cleaning your wounds on your hand. You kissed when the disinfectant started to seep into your flesh. The brunette quickly apologized before putting on the band aids.

When your hand was finally cleaned she moved on to your face, focusing on the wound above your eye. This time she warned you before putting on the disinfectant, which made it a bit less worse. You couldn’t help but admire her focused face, the way she bit her tongue and how her brows furrowed. It nearly made you forget about your headache.

“Do you need anything else? I’ll give you some painkillers as soon as you’re in bed and some snacks too” she told you and you smiled before pulling her closer to plant a small kiss on her lips. “Thank you” you said before kissing her another time and another, distracting her from her work.

“Stop, I gotta clean the rest of your wounds and I wanna take a look at your stomach” she giggled when she finally convinced herself to pull away. “And you taste like blood” she added. You smiled sheepishly and kissed her one last time before pulling back.

She sat on your lap as she looked at the cut you had on your lip, her legs on either side of you as she titled your head down to get a better angle. “This Looks okay I guess” she mumbled to herself as her fingers carefully touched the wound. You were getting bored and started to play with the hem of her shirt.

When she was done with your face she moved on to your stomach, there wasn’t really anything she could do about it. It was a bit bruised but there werent any cuts nor any placed that were so sensitive that she should be worried.

You both got changed and laid in bed, Tara made you swallow some painkillers and gave you some of your favorite chips before letting you decide what to watch. She made sure that you iced your hand and your nose, even if it might not be comfortable. She knew that you didn’t like the cold but there was nothing she could do. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Her voice was soft and still filled with guilt which made you hurt inside.

“T, you know that I did it on my own account right? It’s not your fault or anything. I decided to do what I did” you said as you cuddled closer to her. Her body melting into your which made you melt too. “And even more important, I’d do it again and again because nothing is as important to me as you are” you added and kissed her head.

“I love you, a lot. Not just because of what you did today obviously” she grinned and titled her head up motioning for you to give her a kiss which you did.

“I love you too baby” you grinned as your hand rubbed up and down her back.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you

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bloodredfeathers · 1 year

Text

Kisses

Drabbles about how I think the Savanaclaw boys would kiss because I'm in need of some major fluff with my favorite dorm rn

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi

⚠Gender neutral reader, Leona gets a lil frisky towards the end, slight swearing in Jack's part, also Jack's is really long I'M SORRY I COULDN'T HELP IT HE'S MY FAVORITE HGKFHKFHD, absolute tooth rotting domestic style fluff with Ruggie

Leona Kingscholar

You missed him.

You missed him a lot. You hadn't seen Leona the whole week due to the heavy workload you had been assigned before the weekend. Crewel really didn't know when enough work was enough.

Nonetheless, you used seeing Leona as a reason to get your work done, and you did. It was Friday, every last piece of work turned in, and you were on your way to see your favorite beastman.

"...mmmmmwhat...?" You could hear Leona growl from inside his dorm room after you knocked. Opening the door slowly, you were met with drawn curtains, creating a dimly lit room and a sleep enticing atmosphere.

"Oh my King," you knelt down and began speaking as though you were in a fairy tail. "Please forgive me for intruding upon your sacred private quarters. It is merely I, your beloved, here to see you-"

You looked up to see Leona, crossing his arms and staring down at you. His emerald eyes practically glowed, even in the dim light of his bedroom.

"Get up herbivore," he groaned. "If you're gonna be on your knees, at least make it for a good reason~"

"LEONA!" You stood quickly, face heating evidently. His arms enveloped you and you felt him rest his chin on your head.

"I'm kidding, herbivore..." He said sleepily. "I've missed ya..."

You smiled from where your face was buried in his chest and reciprocated his embrace, squeezing him tight and sighing contently.

"I've missed you too..." You murmured. Leona grabbed your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him. He smirked and let out a quiet, amused huff. You pouted.

"What?"

"Nothing," he grinned, shaking his head. Leona tilted your head upwards, lowering his own to meet you in a long, slow, deep kiss. It had you shivering and melting into him, leaning your whole body against his broad figure. Breaking the kiss, you panted and gazed into his eyes.

"Ohhh I don't think you'll be leaving this room anytime soon, herbivore~" Leona teased, leaning down to kiss your throat. "I wasn't kidding when i said i missed ya. Now whaddaya gonna do about it, hmm~?"

Jack Howl

"Deuce, have you seen Jack?" You had searched the grounds of Night Raven College at least three times over and still couldn't find your wolf anywhere. Deuce shook his head.

"I haven't seen him since our Flight class," Deuce said. "He told me he was going to look for you after school, but judging from what's going on right now, I'm assuming that didn't quite go as planned."

You rolled your eyes.

"No shit, Sherlock," you muttered. You scanned the crowd and couldn't see Jack anywhere. If he were there, it wouldn't have been hard to see a 6'3 bulky, tanned skinned, white haired wolf beastman that literally EVERYONE knows. You groaned aloud, deciding to give up searching, until...

"Wait, his dorm!" You nearly yelled. "I feel so damn stupid...why didn't I think to look for him in his dorm?"

You ran as fast as you could to the Savanaclaw dorm, huffing once you got there. Some student looked at you weird, whereas others minded their own business. You searched for anybody familiar when you saw-

"Ruggie!"

The hyena turned and smiled as he saw you.

"Hey! What brings ya here?"

"Where's Jack?!" Ruggie put his hands up in defense, chuckling.

"Relax, he's up in his room. I think you came at a good time, he came back looking like his favorite cactus just died."

You quickly thanked him and ran to Jack's room, knocking on the door. No response. You slowly opened the door to see Jack sitting on his floor, playing with a little potted cactus, tail limp and ears flat, a sad scowl on his face.

"Jack?" You called softly. His head shot up and his eyes widened, ears alert as he stared towards you. You stepped inside and shut the door behind you, turning back around to be almost knocked over in a bone crushing hug.

"Jack if your tail wags any harder your homework is going to fly out the window-" You warned him.

"Don't care," he said, face buried in your neck. "Can't help it, I missed you too damn much..."

Out of nowhere, jack picked you up and tossed you onto his bed (gently of course) before climbing over you and laying down on top of you. You giggled and pet his hair, rubbing his ears as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

Jack raised his head to look at you. You smiled at him and cupped his cheek with your hand. Laying his hand over yours, Jack leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. His lips were soft and warm, and he smelled like cactus flowers.

Once the kiss was broken, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, savoring the shared warmth between you two.

"I love you, Jack," you said breathlessly, eyes still shut tight and forhead still resting against his. Jack breathed shakily before running a large hand down your side, gently but lovingly caressing you.

"I...I love you too..."

It was moments like these where Jack knew he didn't have to have his guard up, where he could finally relax, because he knew he would always be safe to be himself with you~

(Lol can you say self indulgent-)

Ruggie Bucchi

"What was that for, huh?" Ruggie stared up at you from where you leaned over him. All he wanted was a little peace and quiet, some time to relax and lie in the cool grass beneath his favorite tree. Why was it his favorite? To keep it simple, it kept the grass beneath cool because it provided a lot of shade.

He was lying in the grass with his eyes closed when out of nowhere, you had decided to show up and give him a quick peck on the forehead.

"Nothing really," you grinned. "I've been looking for you all day, and I missed you! Also, you looked super cute, all relaxed like that~!"

Ruggie grinned, grabbing you as he began to tickle you to death.

"RUGGIE STOP!" You squealed as his relentless hands continued to attack your most ticklish spots.

"Never!" He giggled boyishly as he eventually calmed and brought you to sit between his legs, your back against his chest. His arms encircled your torso as his chin rested on your shoulder. You reached up to pet his hair and Ruggie sighed happily, closing his eyes.

"You know," Ruggie said softly. "I came out here to get away from people, to relax and be alone for a bit. But honestly, this is so much better..."

You smiled softly. Ruggie was young and fresh faced, some even saying he looked younger than he was. But he was a very responsible man and a hard worker. He deserved a break every now and again. He shouldn't have had to sneak away.

"Well whenever you need a break from things, especially from Leona," you gazed into his eyes, cupping his cheek. "Just hit me up, I'll always be down to help you unwind!"

He smiled cutely and pulled you in for a quick kiss, pulling back to look at you before going in for another, this time slower, longer, more passionate.

"I love you, Y/N. I always will, please don't ever forget that..."

MAN THIS WAS JUST THE PICK ME UP I NEEDED I FEEL SO MUCH BETTER AFTER WRITING THIS

Also I kinda tried to associate their name colors with their eyes (Leona was green, Ruggie blue and Jack orangy yellowy amber idk-)

I hope you enjoyed, stay tuned for more, extras~

💥Akira💥

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moonlightmenace · 1 month

Text

Oliver's been on FIP treatment for nearly a month, so it was time for blood tests today. As far as FIP goes, his blood looks phenomenal! He's doing fantastic on the treatment. However, I have an answer finally as to why he is still losing weight and having some trouble: Oliver is fucking diabetic.

When it rains it pours, am I right? So, the good thing is I do have pet insurance and they should cover it, and I have CareCredit to use to front the costs before reimbursement. The bad thing is that I don't know if his insurance will reimburse the supportive care he's receiving for FIP *(a little more on this at the end), and I now have consistent costs I will have to be putting on the card. Not everything is covered for the diabetic care, either way, and I will only get reimbursed for 90% of what is covered.

If I were handling this without the FIP, I would be able to figure it out. Alongside the FIP, though, I'm .. well, I'm worried about how I'm going to juggle both of these. I haven't quite reached my goal for covering just the base expected cost of the treatment, and getting his treatment costs squared away would be a major relief. I'm hopeful I can regain some momentum on this, and deeply thankful for any additional support. I'll be posting some pics and videos of him later too. Now that he's getting his energy back he can help me advocate for him :)

* Re: FIP and insurance: FIP treatment is not covered. You can look it up to learn why. It will probably make you as angry as it makes me.

#fundraiser #gofundme #pet illness #cats #fip #feline infectious peritonitis #feline diabetes

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aconflagrationofmyown · 7 months

Text

A Whole Man is Hard to Find -chapter seventeen

-Summary: Rosey conducts a series of interviews with those who know the Captain intimately but through wildly differing association, a prostitute, his quartermaster and his doctor. Meanwhile above decks Captain Presley deflowers a new river with the support of Johnny Cash. Both lovers live for the few moments they can steal at the end of the day to savor each other.

-Warnings 18+: usual universe warnings apply with this addition of caning, mentions of past female rape, past murder and talk of Syphilis and the use of the archaic word “sodomy”. Along with current smut, which mostly includes gratuitous descriptions of sweat, sweaty balls, men being very hot when they’re sweaty so long as they’re Elvis and -it’s a lot of sweat porn ok?!

“Beaumont.” Aida acknowledged from her place on the floor, arm deep in the Captain’s personal trunks.

“Overton.” Rosey snickered at the stand off, keeping her pistol raised all the same. “What’re you in here for?” she repeated.

“So the captain didn’t send you back after all.” Aida ignored her, “My, my, isn’t he gettin’ brave now, defyin’ the colonel every which way.”

The power of her sneer nearly swayed Rosey. “A change of plans,” she diverted, “the Captain can do that.”

“Oh can he?”

“Yes.”

“That's new. He never could before.”

“He’s not beholden to his partner.” Rosey took aims to measure her language lest she commit an indiscretion, “They are, after all, just partners. Equals, there was a change of plans, that’s all.”

“Equals.” Aida savored the word as she rose to her feet before letting out a grating cackle that made Rosey flinch, “I’ll give ya credit for your ignorance, child, s’not like you’ve seen what I’ve seen.”

“No, no I suppose that I haven't seen what you’ve seen.” Rosey conceded, her voice dripping with disdainful accusation.

“No, how could you?” Aida hemmed her in against the door and Rosey felt torn between shoving this witch off or making an ally of someone who knew him so well, “Word on the boat is you’ve been kept quite remote on that little plantation, and sure, sure, he’s tidied himself up real nice for you, hasn’t he? How would you know what kind of man he is?”

The urge was strong to spit back in Aida’s face the proof that she had known him longer than she, that Rosey had ridden atop his young shoulders in peacetime and held him nowadays aboard while he cried his memories out. She wanted to protest that she knew him well. But those were not things due to Aida, the Captain had been upset she’d even seen them in the bath together, how much more would he object to their history being exposed. And besides, these were things to prove Rosey knew him, but Aida was right, she knew precious little *of* him. “I know the kind of man he is with me, and he’s a good man.” she murmured instead.

“Is he?” Aida wasn't sneering, she looked intrigued and Rosey’s heart thudded in fear of a misstep. Vaguely she recalled Elvis having told her in their early days that he had a reputation to maintain, to keep folks in line. Being a feared man didn’t deter him from tossing gifts into the crowd or holding babies or patronizing school charities. Rosey figured that admitting he was good to her could hardly damage his reputation. But the way Aida’s maimed eyes kept searching hers made her frightened of betraying him.

“Incredible the lengths men’ll go to for virgin cunt.” the woman declared at last and Rosey flinched at the language. “What’ll it last ‘em? A minute? Fifteen if he’s got willpower? And then poof, done, gone, you’re just like anyone else to him, after he’s done.”

“What were you snooping for?” Rosey didn’t dignify this sad prophecy with an answer.

“Oh, just some things-“

“Of yours?” Rosey snapped, the weight of her still clutched pistol reminding her of her worth and her dearness to him.

“You could say I have a stake in them.” she shrugged.

“What do you mean by that?” Rosey pressed her scornfully.

“You seen any photographs laying about? Or buried under all them books he hauls?” Aida asked her and while Rosey contemplated how to play her hand when she’d not only never seen photographs aboard or even imagined he’d possessed some, Aida went on while turning back to the trunks, “Id’have thought he’d make certain to have at least something in his arsenal if he’s gonna be a brat. ‘Stead it looks like his partner has everything required to sink him and Elvis hasn’t got anything but a stuck up girl-child to defend himself with.”

“Why would the colonel sink his own partner?” Rosey maintained, choosing to leave her place by the door and take a seat on the bed, sheets still thrashed and unmade from his devouring a few hours before. Her legs clenched at the memory.

“You’re good.” Aida proclaimed and some stupid and starved part of a Rosey actually preened at being praised by such a hardened individual. “You’re real good. What’s your deal with the Colonel?”

“I haven’t anything against the man, he’s just tiring.” Rosey insisted.

“No, I mean, what did he offer you to come along?”

Rosey pondered this line of questioning with a perturbed heart, realizing she either had a chance to spin a lie here or else get caught in one. “Who says we’ve got any deal?”

“Do I need to name your predecessors for you?” Aida asked, sitting back down on the floor with shameless confidence in the Captain’s prolonged absence, “Let’s see, of course there was Aida first,” she chuckled that harsh chuckle of hers at this self narration, “and then there was a Polly and a Tamara and we can’t forget the pretty, pristine Lucilla who had him turnin’ himself inside out to please her, all for not, all of them unable or unwilling to stay when the colonel yanked his chain. All of them reportin’ dutifully to the colonel on his wakings and his habits. And those ones were just the ones he made promises to, that promised him back. There was Etta, though she lasted all of a sneeze ‘cause the colonel was against her.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re his spurned lover?” Rosey asked, amused.

“Ha,” the woman shook her head, “there ever been a woman spy who hadn’t had to play lover?”

“You’re a trash spy.” Rosey found it in herself to jest, “Look at your work,” she gestured to the clutter on the floor, “and halfway in you just spill it out that you’re a spy? Aida, I had some hopes you hated me but I trusted you didn’t think me a fool.”

“Didn’t say I am.” Aida smiled that awful smile of hers, wider than ever this time and Rosey noticed her gums were shiny and silver. “Said I was.”

Rosey kicked her leg out boredly and hummed. “During the war?” she ventured.

“Mm..” Aida just shrugged. “He really not paying you anything?”

“I’m not acquainted with the colonel.” Rosey summarized, “I’m here at the Captain's disposal, he’s the one who pays my wages. And you knew that already.”

“Lord girl.” Aida rose to her knees and began repacking the half emptied trunks, “Whatever it is you’ve done back home, won’t be worth sticking round here to escape. Trust me, they’ll string you up alongside us all if not worse. The world out there’s got a particular distaste for whores, they’d look kinder on a murderer.”

Rosey didn’t protest either title. “Leave the stuff be,” she commanded “with the way you’re cramming it back in -he’ll know someone’s been going through it. Trash spy, you are.”

“Mm, alright.” Aida dropped the books she held back to the floor. “Weird feller he is, to keep this but no photograph apparatus. Colonel must have it.”

“What on earth is that?” Rosey asked her, pointing to that something on the floor that looked akin to an oversized musicbox and had as its extension a wand at the end.

“A hysteria treatment.”

“Hysteria?” Rosey savored the word carefully, only having heard of it from books.

“Yeah, real handy for the uptight ones,” Aida leared accusingly at Rosey’s prim pose, “the ones so proper they’re liable to get strangled with their own collars.”

“How does it work?” Rosey ignored the barb, soothed by red hot memories of indulging the captain in ways that could never be dismissed as prudish.

“It vibrates.” Aida picked the thing up by its box and plopped it in Rosey’s lap. “Crank it.” she goaded as Rosey fumbled with her new burden and carefully began to turn the lever. It was a steam mechanism of sorts, that was obvious from the hissing sound alone and the way the wand’s

outer skin began to pick up in rotational spins, powered by the cord tethering the two women to each other. When she was satisfied as to its pace, Aida took the wand and held it to Rosey’s exposed shin and the girl felt her whole leg rattle from it.

“Hellfire!” Rosey snatched her tingling limb up and away from the device after a moment's indulgence.

Aida laughed at her again. “Husbands pay him a lotta money to hold this to their wife's frigid cunts.” she explained, discarding the wand on the scattered heap of books and neck clothes as she rose to her feet, “And plenty of women risk divorce just to feel it again. Reckon it turns ‘em hysterical, ‘stead of the other way ‘round.”**

Rosey thought of the bathtub -their first tryst- and colored, a grimace forming as that sweet memory became tainted with the knowledge that everything the Captain did with her had been done by him to multitudes before her. As transactions, no less.

“Don’t pity him, girl.” Aida warned, “That money keeps him soft and happier than most, and it keeps you spoiled and fed.”

“I only pity those who do it without alternative.” she muttered. “Captain Presley’s put that behind him.”

“Ha, right behind him. So close behind him it’ll snag him by the britches before the year is out.” Aida shook her head, “You’re a foolish idiot talkin’ him into a rebellion.”

“It’s no rebellion when it’s between partners.” Rosey sneered.

“I keep forgettin’ the whole ‘equals’ part.” Aida admitted with mock regret before continuing, “Bit hard to do if you’d seen what I’ve seen. If you’d seen one of those equals let the other cane his bare backside like a green school boy over a tiny defiance. Equals my ass. How much trouble have you gotten him in that he’d risk this much?”

Aida had approached Rosey during this sickening divulgence and Rosey fast felt her power in the situation escaping her but was too rattled by it to wrestle back her rightful dominance.

“I suppose you’re real proud of yourself for standing by during such an event.” Rosey managed to spit while shrinking against the wall. Her hands began to sweat, she tossed the hysteria box off her lap and gripped the sheets beside her to dry them, feeling for her discarded pistol “And for a man who gave you so much. You’re not even mad for him.”

“An event? It was a weekly pastime some years, that cane saw more of him than it did the pavement.” Aida puzzled, “He’s really told ya nothin’, has he?” that revelation brought Aida more amusement than Rosey could ever imagine so hideous a face could express while Rosey felt sick at the idea of how much harm one stupid piece of wood could inflict, “Are you sorry for the dog that’s made to do a party trick before it gets a bone, Miss Beaumont? Do you give a dog a bone when he refuses? Mad for him, hmph.”

“Why’re you telling me all this.” Rosey asked, shame and anger battling inside her.

“Stop that.” Aida ordered and shortly after Rosey felt a sting to her cheek as she was slapped. Too stunned to respond in kind she sat there with a gaping mouth as Aida inspected her reaction.

“Stop what?” she hissed, palm to her her tingling cheek.

“Actin’ like you ain’t starved for details.” Aida smirked, “Clever girl like you, must’ve found Miss Etta most boring -so much talk, so much talk, so little history actually said. You’re downright panting to snoop yourself, don’t deny it.”

“I-I-I’m not!” Rosey defended, “I’m not denying.” she amended.

“Prove it.” Aida smirked.

Rosey knew this was a test that a normal child would have passed years ago, school bullies or debutante rivals would have buffeted her so that a manic, washed up prostitute’s goading would have little effect. But Rosey was no normal child, sheltered and so little buffeted in the gentler forms of cruelty, she knew only the hard scrabble, hard edged tests of life. With a sinking feel of doing wrong yet a pulse quickening excitement for daring it anyway, she looked about the room for a prompt. Her eyes fell to the bindings the Captain had used on her bosoms, and beneath it the masculine costume Aida herself had loaned her.

And she recalled his blush.

“When you loaned us that garb,” she began and no matter how hard she tried to be brazen she couldn’t manage more than a hushed whisper, “you mentioned…equipment. You asked if he wanted the ‘equipment’ with it.” She looked up to find that Aida was holding her peace, more restrained than Rosey had ever seen her and far from being comforting it made her feel like she was about to be sprung upon by prey. “I want to know what that was. What you meant. What you use it for.”

-‘Depraved things’ -the captain had called them sternly, but he’d stuttered and hardened all the same at the mere suggestion of them.

“How did he respond when he saw you in ‘em?” Aida pried and Rosey thought maybe she’d misjudged her, and she was merely a lonely gossip shut up in this dark hold for too long. Rosey caught a glimpse of herself in the future. “Did he find you arousing?”

Rosey wasn’t about to divulge that but the rosy blush that earned her his nickname was quick to answer for her. “What’s the equipment?”

“A wooden cock.” Aida replied with commendable bluntness.

Rosey hadn’t even contemplated the existence of such a thing. Her marveling face must’ve said so.

“Attached in the common place on the wearer with a harness.” Aida was eager to share and Rosey felt unsettled again at the knowledge that cruelty and degeneracy were the only two subjects that seemed to bring the woman joy. “Plenty a’men like bein’ with men that way but there’s those that like a woman to take ‘em thataways, too.”

“So they-“ Rosey couldn’t help herself, the curiosity too burning to be tamped down, “-they…suck on it?”

Much to her surprise, Aida looked a little puzzled herself for a brief moment before replying, “Well, no, not usually. They pay me to fuck ‘em.”

“In the mouth?“ Rosey persisted, annoyed at the splitting of hairs between taking and being taken orally.

“No, in the ass!” Aida was equally annoyed until she realized by watching Rosey’s bewildered expression that the girl wasn’t playing dumb.

“How does…how does anything fit up there?” she balked, certain Aida was having a laugh at her expense. From the stigma of sucking a man that she had learned from youth, she naturally assumed it was because it was associated with acts performed by sodomites and was the one way men could pleasure each other without a cunt. “How large is this wooden -object?”

“Girl,” Aida smirked, “we’re talkin’ cock, wooden and otherwise, goin’ up the back way. A throat ain’t got nothin’ on the squeeze of a tight ass.”

An array of emotions and wonderments hit Rosey all at once, converging in her mind to fill her with that tantalizing tingle of newly acquired knowledge mixed with a substantial amount of shock and concern over the likelihood of the Captain having engaged in this activity. Which further exacerbated her curiosity as to why he would find the mere suggestion of a renewal of that type of indulgence arousing. “Does that not hurt?” she asked.

“Like hell if you ain’t prepped right.” Aida’s graying tongue flicked at her lips and Rosey felt a pang of dread in her stomach.

“How does one prepare for that?”

“Stretchin’ the rim out.” she shrugged, “All my clients pay for that -after all, if they’ve got time and money to pay a woman to bugger them, you can count on it that they’re much too delicate to take it raw.”

“But if you’re just, out and-“ Rosey bit her lip to try to find a kinder word but it was ugly business no matter how one put it, “if one was out hawking oneself?”

“Beaumont,” Aida lifted a tattooed brow at her transparency, “you can count on it that the Captain done felt like his insides were getting scraped raw most times. Ain’t no oil in a back alley or bent over a barrel, but sometimes, sometimes it must’ve been good. He’s got a lingering taste for it, or maybe he just likes pain.”

“You’ve done this, for him?” Rosey asked dismally and wished she hadn’t even before it rolled off her tongue.

To her surprise Aida answered, “No. reckon he took enough real cock to keep him staggerin’ well into the weekday most times.”

“But not anymore.” Rosey noted once more while raising her chin, and as if noticing her shift in mood, Aida began to retreat towards the door.

“No, not anymore.” she agreed before spitting out, “Gone a whole year without sellin’ ass and he already misses it. Some folks are born whores.”

“Say that of him again and I’ll blow your brains out.” Rosey promised, and by then she had retrieved her pistol.

“Keep your eye out for those photographs.” Aida responded tersely, making as if to go.

“You’ve a claim to them?” Rosey leant forward in the cot, persisting in pressing the issue.

“Mm, yeah, I do.” Aida eyed the pistol warily.

“What- what kind of photographs am I to be looking for?” Rosey asked, exasperated and curious only for her own sake. And his. “If he had such an apparatus there could be all manner of prints! And I’ve heard with the mechanism that some may be undeveloped-“

“These are developed.” Aida laid her hand in the door knob, “Older, too, you’ll tell by the style.”

“I’ve never seen one in the flesh! How am I to discern style?” Rosey protested. “What kind am I looking for?”

Aida stared hard at her before her mouth twisted, “Oh, you’ll know what kind when you see them, Beaumont.”

Rosey’s hands had turned from clammy to frozen in her attempt to disguise her panicked breathing. “Beyond the photographs, what is it you want?”

Aida stood by the door of the small room and swayed, side to side like a considering crow and Rosey gave her all the time she needed.

“I know you wanted me to catch you.” She insisted gently.

“Hmph.” Aida grunted, contemplating a confession it seemed, or else another mode of attack. Rosey would never know.

A knock rang out from the other side of the door and Aida’s hand flew to her own mouth, signaling with a finger to the lips for Rosey to be silent. To play that the room was empty. Rosey wouldn’t be caught abetting a woman as displeasing to the Captain as Aida and chose to ignore her.

“Enter!” Rosey answered instead, clear and assertive.

Aida was forced to move back from the opening door as the formidable bulk of Sister Rosetta entered, looking first at Aida and then down to the spilled trunks, then up and across to Rosey on her rumpled cot.

“Miss Beaumont,” ever the stickler for etiquette, Rosetta ignored the intruder for the time being and addressed herself to the one she was seeking, who also happened to be the lady of the boat, “Dr. Nicholas informed me that yesterday you charged him with a meeting this afternoon to review…certain questions you had?”

“Oh, yes, yes I did.” Rosey recalled her fiery stipulations for allowing the doctor to stay aboard. She didn’t miss the way Aida watched this interaction with avid interest.

“He’s asking a time, ma’am.” Sister Rosetta prodded, she was being awfully respectful and Rosey wondered if the woman knew of her recent marriage or was merely setting an example for Aida. Either way, Rosey appreciated it.

“How about, a umm, an hour from now?” Rosey calculated, “We ought to be on our way by then, and the more nauseating swells should have subsided. Nothing like going over numbers when the boat’s rocking.”

“I’ll see to it he’s conscious by then.” Rosetta replied with deferential irony and Rosey filed that remark away for later. “Exactly what are you doing in here, Overton?” she asked the old prostitute next.

“I was returning her clothes to her.” Rosey spoke up and Rosetta, in line with her newly found deference for Rosey Presley, accepted this fib with narrowing eyes but tight lips. “And, as that’s done with,” Rosey went on after a burdened silence in which Rosetta’s judgmental stare impressed upon her the need to do…something, “you may go, Aida.”

Aida did not exit in haste, she slipped behind Sister Rosetta’s considerable bulk and gave a searing, lasting, parting look of what Rosey feared bordered on conspiratorial camaraderie before shutting the door behind her.

Rosey sat on her cot and fought the urge to fidget on the cot, to kick her leg and scuff her boots under Rosetta’s unwavering observation. That hideous, vibrating apparatus was still lying sideways on the floor.

“Child?” Rosetta broke the silence at last and Rosey ground her teeth at the sudden absence of all respect and deference, merely parental concern remained and no small rebuke in it. It had been a show for that whore, then, and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed, Rosey would always be stuck as that cloistered little girl who grew up to be a stunted young woman.

“I’m glad you came by Sister, I’ve a complaint against you.” Rosey spoke up, daring this due to the sting of repeated losses of authority, first to Aida and now to her.

“With me?” Rosetta repeated, seemingly astounded.

“Yes.” Rosey smoothed her hands out on her lap, “It would seem a confidence I trusted you with a few nights gone, a confidence I would have kept to myself if not so shaken, was repeated to the Captain in its most gruesome and twisted manner.”

“By me?” Rosetta repeated, eyebrows raised nearly to the band of her exquisite turban.

“There was no one else to insinuate what he now believes as gospel truth.” Rosey pointed out icily, “He is under the impression, Sister, that he forced himself on me the other night.”

“Unsuccessfully!” Rosetta protested, “He knows he was unsuccessful. There’s no harm done.”

“The harm is in the intent!” Rosey cried out, “And in the fact he believes himself capable of it! He won’t even-“ with effort Rosey reined in her narrative to the details proper to be shared, “he would barely trust himself alone in his own room with me. And while that has been surmounted by vows and begging on my part -he is…tentative.”

“Not a bad thing.” Rosetta pointed out, chin lifted, “A man that -hungry, a man like that oughta be tentative. And that night should have proved it to you.”

“What occurred that night was not unwanted.” Rosey enunciated, near to a rage, “And I would not have him think otherwise. I did not tell you otherwise. I confided my wants to you and admitted my sins, that I wanted his babe! His love! And you took that, took that temperance of mine and told him he was a brute?”

Rosetta swiped her hand over her brow a half a dozen times as if battling something quite heavy before deciding on a course of action and hauling up the rickety chair to sit in front of Rosey, amidst the wreckage of the trunks. “You think well of him.” she noted and before Rosey could more adamantly rephrase this moderate sentiment, she held her hand up for silence, “And it’s well that you do. And it is well for him, too. But with such a man, it is well for him to know what he is capable of, and to not think too highly of his own restraint. Not when we are speaking of something as heavy as this.”

Rosey did her best to listen and give such a statement it’s due weight and consideration, but peeved at continued insinuation of her own naïveté felt compelled to retort, “Ma’am, I’ve seen a woman forced, my own sister in fact, I don’t need to be told about heaviness. I’m telling you now, I object to saddling a man, however volatile and, and, and hungry as you call it, with the taint of such cruelty. He would never.”

“You think I care about the act?” Rosetta scoffed but gently added, “Child, there’s sins and then there’s harm. And then there’s bringing a child into a world not fit to care for it. And that’s what I object to. That’s what he objects to. And that’s what deserves heaviness and fear from such a man, and you should fear it too.”

Rosey swallowed hard, the shift in Rosetta’s tone becoming softer than she’d ever seen and it took her unawares. In vain did she summon back her old ire, instead like a helpless student, she waited for more.

“Don’t be so eager for a babe, girl.” Rosetta murmured sadly, “Not in times such as these. Even good men betray you, and even the ones who don’t -they’re not promised tomorrow to provide for you. And in your case, without him, there’d be no Captain Presley to buy your child and bring him up as his own.”

Rosey tapped her boot on the floor rhythmically as an assorted pattern of clues formed in her mind and suddenly it was quite plain, all those hours teaching him math in her presence and watching her watch him frolic with the captain and her so very angry at the colonel for threatening him- “Cal is yours.” Rosey realized, “He’s your son.”

Rosetta pursed her lips and nodded, more vulnerable looking than Rosey had ever seen her stoic face, “And it would do him no good to know.” he mourned, “For I had a man, and he was a good man with ivory skin, blue eyes and a wife, and he told me he’d come back for me. That was a whole war ago.” she noted, “And the only man who came was Elvis, bought us both out of our debt. Freedom ain’t sweet when ya can’t eat and when the color of your skin affects your child’s chances. If you were to have a bastard, you’d be nearly in the same case as me.”

Rosey leant forward and tentatively laid a comforting hand on the stalwart lady’s knee, “I’d no idea. Not when I was teaching him -and you, right there, holding your tongue. I cannot fathom it.”

“One day,” she murmured, “you’ll love someone enough to hold your tongue, even if you want to claim them. And what kind of parents would you be? A man of pleasure and a murderess? This isn’t a just world and it’s certainly not a kind one, you’d never get to keep your child. Promise me, never a child, if I could spare either of you that, I would, that’s why I’m sayin’ what I am saying.”

“I can’t make that promise.” Rosey gasped, heartsick and persuaded, “I-I can’t, it’s not for me to make. Not alone.”

Sister Rosetta received this with grudging admiration for Rosey’s loyalty to his headship over her.

“There was a woman aboard, little over a year ago,” Rosetta’s tone turned dreadfully measured after her brief vulnerability and Rosey braced herself, knowing the tale was worth heeding if so circumspect a woman took to divulging secrets, “she was wealthy as was her husband. And the Captain had a fear that she had begotten a child off him.” Rosetta paused as if weighing her narrative once more, “He was most careful about that, you see, with his work, such as it was, most careful. It was paramount to him. But with this woman it was feared. Some couples are harmless, some women are needy, and some are depraved. They all pay the same. But,” she folded her hands again and again before rising and speaking to the door, “but this particular couple, they were crueler than most. Thwarted his precautions knowingly. Seemed to delight in it, like it was a lark to taint themselves with him. It’s a common thing paid for, a sort of abetted cuckolding with the husband engaged. It wore on him, Miss Beaumont, years and years of seeing marriage so demeaned and him being the instrument for it but -never to such ends as this. I don’t know what Etta tried, and I don’t know what Aida planned, but when these helpers failed he came to me.”

“What -what did he want?” Rosey begged. “What did he intend?”

“I don’t know.” Rosetta sounded like a jaded witness, “But he told me of it, told me he was begging God to finish that woman, anything to prevent a child of his to be raised by such degenerates.” Rosetta turned back to her, looking over Rosey’s head, “He gave himself back to God that night. And stuck to it until you came along. The next port of call he sent me to their room to deliver a telegram that had come in. It read of an emergency, the couple demanded a ramp be lowered before the boat had fully docked, they were eager to be off. Considering his passenger's request paramount to an order, the Captain lowered them a ramp.” Rosetta locked eyes with Rosey as the girl guessed a million endings to this harmless tale, “That was the only time Captain Presley has ever lost passengers while unloading. Crushed them between the hull and dock.”

Rosey found her mouth had gone dry when she tried to swallow her shock, choking on her own emotion, Rosetta went to the wash basin and brought her the pitcher, encouraging her to drink.

“Don’t you ever think that man takes the prospect of a child lightly.” Rosetta ended her caution quite simply and Rosey gave the pitcher back with nerveless hands.

“You think he-“ she could not say it the first try, which was ironic enough considering what unaccounted and horrible things she’d laid to his account when she first met him, “-killed them?” she whispered.

“Court ruled it was an accident, Me. Cash was an advocate.” Rosetta acted suddenly as if she was arguing against her own narrative, “And since then the Captain became a most revernat disciple of the gospel of his youth. There’s nothing more to be gained from guessing. Till you.” she added, “Now it bears some worth in repeating. Just, bear in mind when you’re fooling and he’s suggestible -he don’t take it lightly, child. He don’t take it lightly.”

Rosey repacked the trunks when Rosetta left her, unable in her rearranging to help herself from snooping in some small way. There was nothing very remarkable save a large assortment of knives that looked as motley as possible with different inscriptions and initials on them, suggesting other owners. There were strong ribbons of silk, too, 10 times longer than needed to tie up even Rosey’s long mane of hair, and clasps too, cosmetics of coal and rouge in tidy little containers. And a hairbrush that looked innocuous enough until one examined the phallic handle. Rosey nearly dropped the thing in startelement that she was holding something with veins and ridges so similar to the real thing while being pantomime.

It felt disloyal and she dropped it back into the trunk. It thudded dully on the wooden bottom and still no photographs were to be seen. A single cameo was wedged amongst books and when she cracked its decaying hinge open she found a picture of Captain Phillips looking ten years younger and without a lick of gray. Wartime portrait. She tucked it back in place and threaded the strange assortment of thin silk shifts and a large corset, as if for a big boned woman, around the more delicate things and stacked the books as best she could manage.

This done she went to her meeting with the doctor, such as it was with a table set up in a closet beside the Boilers that held pitchers and hoses in case of a fire in them, foggy and lost in early memories of the captain. Not the sunlit frolics of childhood that were dimly returning to her the longer she stayed with him but that dreadful first night they met. She wracked her brain for the little details she’s once worried to shreds in her fear of him but had since been smoothed out like so much jagged ivory in a near completed sculpture. She recalled the way he shoved through the New Orleans riff-raf with unblinking authority and the way he’d snapped his fingers and bought her with only mild protest from other bidders. She thought of his playful refrain to her these day “No murder, Rosey!” and realized with an ache that he may not have meant it so lightly. He was begging her off a path he had been down. The more she thought of him in those early days and the fear he elicited in her, the more she realized him capable of the tale she had just heard.

“Just once I wanna hear Old Beaumont’s daughter say ‘cock’ while grinding back on mine.” he had been so mean with his words that first time, goading and venomous at her for her lofty origins. Or was he just used to speaking like that to highborn ladies who got a thrill from a working class man soiling them?

It was more of a wonder that he was capable of love now, and hated himself as faintly as he did, with such a history. Each new little discovery of it that she made was like pricking her fingers on hidden pins in a seemingly complete cross stitch. If she could run above deck now and hug him and have him lave her pricked fingers with his tongue and promises -she would.

Instead, “Good afternoon, docter.” She greeted and closed the door of the closet behind them.

She took the seat on the far wall, which was only about three feet apart from himself with a rickety board serving as a desk. Rosey laced her hands around her ink pot atop her accounting books with admirable poise and gave him a smile. Dr. Nick’s smile wavered but he returned it all the same.

“To be perfectly honest, Miss Beaumont, I am confused by this, uh, interview, shall we say?” he admitted as she laid out her papers and asked for a list of drugs and medicines used in the captain's care. “I am not beholden to you or owe you any information, the art I practice is guarded by oath and the law of this land states no boat of this size can traverse without a doctor, i am thus immune to any threat you may make or change you may attempt. You are a purser, ma’am, and I am a physician. I suggest we keep to our respective callings, the better to pass this trip in a harmonious manner.”

“I am indeed a purser,” Rosey dipped her pin in the ink with methodical precision, “and as such I am to make an account of what comes and goes in our revenues. I am not here to play chemist sir, I am merely here to ascertain to what purpose we spend nearly 40 dollars monthly on Mercury. salts?”

“Pah.”

“The boat pays for that, sir.” She reminded, “Another ten for opiates, another thirteen for -“

“You are new to book keeping, yes?” Dr. Nick interrupted.

“No, I am not at all new to it.” Rosey answered truthfully.

“Book-keeping in a brothel, then?” he guessed, “Just as you would pay for lye or salt marsh to seed your fields, this vocation requires a vast array of…fertilizers. Stimulants and relaxants and numbing drugs -the human body can only sustain so much on its own power, Madame. I shall spare you the details but there are illnesses to treat as well. Rife amongst such work.”

“Spare me no details, which illness is which drug curing, Doctor?”

“The Mercury -Aida ingests that morning moon and nightly on my orders.”

“That’s why the entire woman is turning silver, I suppose?” Rosey shuddered and noted it down.

“An unfortunate side effect.” he conceded, “Along with vomiting and wasting, the disease can be attributed for the rest of her symptoms, the mind and vision. The rotting of brain matter and soft tissue that you have no doubt smelled. She is not alone, half the boat relies on Mercury to keep the rot at bay.”

“How long?” Rosey asked, “How long must they be on it for a cure?”

“Girl, there is no cure for such filth.” he grunted, “We are talking of back alley, degenerate diseases, lowborn blood and the judgment of God on all such products of lust combining to waste them away.”

“And what are you treating the malaria with?” Rosey moved onto another Devine pestilence that she was certain the captain suffered from.

“I don’t recognize anyone with it.” he objected, “No swollen tongues or yellow eyes.”

“It can be chronic-“

“-no, not in my study of it, it can’t.” he shook his head with surety, “Syphilis, that’s what we’re fighting aboard, and the Clap. I suppose we should think of getting you on a regimen if you’ve been having -relations.” he muttered with what Rosey truly thought might be blunt concern for her welfare. “There’s no cure, but these medicinals they are -essential for any quality of life to be maintained and for comfort to be found at the end. Essential. Syphilis, It’s a spirochete you see, not at all like a bacteria, under a microscope it looks rather like a corkscrew drilling its way into each cell, siphoning off the life from it.”

Rosey swallowed thickly at that image and jotted down another column, “What symptoms was the captain experiencing that such a disease was suspected?” the difference between himself and Aida’s derangement were obvious, but perhaps that was just a matter of time.

“He runs fevers, he has sweats, he is fatigued,” the doctor rattled a mundane list of ailments boredly, “he engaged in sodomy. It’s clear.”

Rosey bit her lip at the recent revelation as to the details of that act and retorted softly, “He vomits, almost every morning, he vomits. Does that not sound more of cholera, at least?”

“Where would he have gotten cholera?” The doctor scoffed.

“He was abroad for years during the war!” she retorted heatedly, “And was held prisoner in Elmira of all places -do you not think that sufficient to contract an illness without contracting the wrath of God, too?”

“Was he kept there?” Dr. Nick showed grave surprise, “I didn’t know him then.“ He explained as if that were an end to it, nothing remarkable about having judged a patient’s case without any history given. “I was hired by Colonel Parker to help ease him in his vocation, and for the occasional assist when sleeplessness took hold. You’ve nothing against sleep drafts do you?” he suddenly asked in horror at her ignorance.

“I’m here to account, sir.” she managed in a horse whisper and marked the Mercury salts for two, all the rest having been discharged from service. She started another column for unaccounted drugs which she figured she could assume with some surety that the Doctor himself indulged in.

“We really ought to get you on something, it spreads you know.” he insisted not unkindly.

Rosey shifted in her seat and thought of her innocence still so resolutely intact. “I think you’ll find that won't be necessary, sir.”

Come evening they were still at it, tallying figures and dosages that ran like Greek in Rosey’s head to the lulling of the familiar boilers clang, making white noise beside them.

A grating scrape silenced them both as the jarring sensation of the boat catching on some unknown barrier below them cast the fear of God on them both. Not in all her time aboard had Rosey heard something remotely similar. Not even when the Captain sidled the great monstrosity up the docks. He parked his boat smooth as a dance master, a little bump and sway and they’d settle as the ropes tethered them.

Not so this screech, it reminded Rosey and the doctor both that they were in a floating cask. Following was a disorienting little tip where the ink pot began to slide towards her and she caught it, unnerved by the small but unmistakable turn the boat was taking.

“Have you ever-?” she broke the silence as they still stayed unbalanced like a buggy relying on a single wheel for a reckless curve.

“No.” Dr. Nick had his eyes searching the ceiling as the lamp above them stayed slanted to the side like their balance. “He’s makin’ the turn,” he surmised sounding a little awed, “we’re headed into the Missouri.”

Rosey wondered if she’d feel it when the water changed, beyond the boat righting itself after the turn. She wondered if the Captain would at least, with those keen hands and attuned senses. Would the current change? Would the depths affect his grip on the wheel? Was the strain of the boilers her imagination or was it like they were truly fighting for access into the giant tributary. Would the river gods let him in? Hand braced on the wall as her chair went slightly askew beneath her weight, Rosey let up her first little prayer in ages and it sounded strangely directed towards the captain’s talent instead of God.

Up above decks the Captain’s eyes smarted from kerosene fumes and hours of squinting into the pale lamp-illuminated river mists, they gathered like shrouds on the old Mississippi’s surface as the inky waves danced into the edge of the black sky. Elvis felt like it was a funeral procession of sorts, all black robes and white smoke like he’d seen in New Orleans

‘Don’t count me out yet, ole Miss,’ he thought fondly, ‘watch me come back to you old girl’.

Jerry was to take the evening watch and still refused to go down below to catch his nap, too anxious for the damn turn into the tributary like the rest of them who knew anything about anything. Elvis tried to comfort himself that if he ran them into a sandbank and drowned them all, first day of the job, he’d at least be responsible for killing General Sherman.

As it was Elvis sniffed away the smarting fumes and gritted his teeth at the gnarly scrape that wailed into the night as he toggled the massive wheel to his left, a little too much, too soon? Or was he too late to thread the damn needle? The current felt like a damn whirlpool keeping him at bay and he had to stick out a foot off his high stool to force the wheel straight on his course. It was unnerving the way it would have spun and spun them to oblivion if he’d let go the slightest bit.

“Ya got it, ya got it.” Cash’s rumble sounded steadying in his ear and once again Captain Presley gave thanks for the Divine intervention and kind suspicions of Mr. Binder who didn’t trust his investment that far westward without the Waterway Committee’s watchdog tagging along to guard it. The fact it was ole Johnny Cash from dear dead days gone by and more recent redemptive ones, only made it kinder. Between Rosey’s pardon and Cash’s presence, Elvis was ready not only to repay Mr. Binder generously but even to like the man. “Ya got it, don’t spook, man.”

Johnny kept the damn unhelpfully small print map up in the right half of Elvis’ view, thumb tacking it to the top of the wheel for the past half hour as Elvis’ glued his eyes to each treacherous little bend of the entry way he’d never probbed before.

“Which one is it, damnnit?” he hissed to himself as every little juncture was running together on the map and maybe he shoulda brought his glasses if he knew this was going to be more about reading for hours straight and far less about seamanship.

Cash reached over him and wiped the off the compass with his jacket cuff and that was all the rebuke Elvis needed for his small tantrum. “Instruments ain’t lyin.” Cash grunted.

“Either of you bastards wanna ease us into this whirlpool, be my guest.” Elvis had to get his anger out or else tip them and he felt better right away at the guffaws it inspired.

“Fuck no.” Jerry chuckled nervously in back and Elvis hated him for the way he was just shy of talented enough to do this and thus could warm his hands around a hot canteen of coffee while Elvis’ numb and braised hands cramped on the wheel.

“Ease is the right word.” Johnny chuckled, “don’t let Lamar spook and gun us in.”

“I know, I know.” Elvis grunted as he felt himself get in a groove, the current finally splitting at the bow on either side like a welcomer instead of a barrier, “I-I think I’m in, I’m -I’m in somethin.” he added unsure, “Lemme me in sweet Missouri, lemme in Big Muddy.”

If one of the soldiers beneath them had been atop he might have laughed at the language or thought it pantomime but it wasn’t, none of the rivermen laughed, they just bit their lips at the necessary double entendrés and prayed the fickle water would listen.

“Mhmm, nice n’ easy you’re in, I feel what ya mean -tell Lamar not to spook.” Cash urged Elvis again as the boat began to tug into the bend as it ought, causing the deck and the whole dark horizon to tip to their right as they turned west.

“He knows!” Elvis bit back, knuckles white as the wheel tried to tug him fully to the side, his thigh working harder to pull him upright again.

“Does he? If it were me I wouldn’t trust a single fella who ain’t a professional lover not to gun it in, full steam ahead, right about now.” Cash admitted.

“Lamar don’t ya Fuckin’ do it!” Elvis grabbed the horn and hollered down to his boilers, “Make her swallow us whole if ya do!” and it was just in time too, the boat began to rattle and hum as if a few more scoops had been added and the bellows worked a few pumps beyond direction. “Quit pumpin’ so hard, damn you.” Elvis hollered again and his amplified voice rattled around the boilerdeck like Hades sending out a decree into the underworld, it made Rosey perk up across from Dr. Nick. “I tell ya when to add coal, fucks sake -no intuition for feelin’ it give, some folks…” Elvis trailed off in a grumble and let the horn fall with a clatter back in place.

The current of the Missouri runs southernly from its source in the great northwest and where it meets the Mississippi just north of Saint Louis, it forms a churning caldron of wrecks, tide pools and sediment. Enough steam is required to make the turn and keep one’s progress against a current that flows over eight miles an hour, yet too much steam and it will tip you right into the swirl of the conjoining streams.

“Sweet Jesus I feel like I’ve been turnin’ for hours.” he groaned, his shoulders burning from the strain, “Gonna run into the opposite bank this way.”

“How she feelin?” Was all Cash replied.

“Looser.”

“Looser bad or looser good?”

“When is looser bad?” Jerry asked with a snort.

“Looser’s bad when your fuckin’ wheel spins like a roulette wheel, ya idiot.” Elvis helpfully supplied.

“Yeah, never seen that yet.” Jerry conceded that he was a very good first mate and hadn’t allowed such a thing to even happen.

“I-I dunno man she’s loose but- but I feel her tug-“ Elvis bit his lip and tried to process both the instruments and the leading of the wheel. “-left.” he decided, “She’s tuggin’ left.”

“Then show her who’s boss.” Cash grinned and thumbed at the droplets on the map, squinting himself at the small type. “You plan to tuck us in before Kansas City for the night? Nice lil cove right about there.” He pointed at the map with his big blunt finger but Elvis had his tongue between his teeth and he leaned on the wheel spokes to pull the boat right.

“Just trying to get past this bend then I’ll think about goddamn coves.” Elvis grunted, “She won’t stop sucking m’bow to portside.”

“Want a hand?” Cash asked mildly.

“Fuck me it’s like asking the wife to fuck this mistress.” the captain muttured instead, switching from pleading with the river to begging his boat to go where it wasn’t built for, its high top decks -so spacious and regal for entertainment or speed- precariously teetering in the rough n’tumble of the backwoods river. “Ooooh hell she's tuggin’,” he exclaimed finally, “Lamar, Lamar! Gimme more now!” he yanked at his own controls, a stick that precariously opened the steam valves at whim so long as enough coal was supplied below, and the Proud Marie lurched into the turn with all the rage of an offended deity. “Cash? Wanna help?” he barked, wild haired and sweating in the gas light and looking more in his element than Johnny had seen him in ages.

“Bless me no, you juggle your own women.” he smiled instead. “Pay attention to that tuggin’, now. Don’t wanna die now we’ve threaded the damn thing.”

“Oh I’m payin’ attention, alright.” Elvis laughed. “But now she’s tuggun’ like the current’s suckin me ‘stead of pushin’, Cash.”

“How fickle is woman.” Cash mused while lighting up a cigar.

“Just think,” Jerry piped up encouragingly, “couple more hours of this then you can go lay on soft bosoms and catch some shut eye.”

Seeing as how it was already past ten in the evening, the thought of more hours was more tortuous than conciliatory. “Jerrah, how about you fuck off and make yourself useful. Light my cigar f’me again, damn mists keep puttin’ it out.”

“You can’t just breathe tobacco up here.” Jerry pointed out even as he struck a match and cupped it to the Captain's face.

The captain glanced at him, all sooty lashes and water speckled cheeks in the warm glow of the kerosene wick, “Watch me.” he puffed, as he felt the river give him a lane and he slotted in, pulling his wheel straight again. “This got me sweatin’ like a whore in church.” he whistled, no longer jealous of Jerry and his coffee.

“Works every time.” Cash agreed with a knowing smile and Elvis grinned back.

“We’re in boys, we’ve well and truly entered her.” he announced a mile in and half in, and had there been daylight, the mouth leading to the Mississippi would have been seen slowly shrinking behind them like a portal to the known world.

“Done so gentle, I'd bet she didn’t even bleed.” Cash patted Elvis' shoulder and he smiled back, fighting the urge to slump over the wheel and fall asleep now the day’s worst was over.

A few hours passed and the Captain did tuck them into a cove for the night, running the ropes out the hawser holes to secure them to the beached wreck of a more unfortunate predecessor on its banks. He woke Jerry where he’d slumped in his chair for his watch.

“Say hi to Rosey for me, EP.” he mumbled and Elvis didn’t begrudge him after having slapped him around a bit to thoroughly wake him.

“So you kept her aboard?” Cash asked him as they tromped down the multiple flights of ladders to the lowest deck, handrails and boot grips slick with mist and the single lantern Elvis held doing little to light the way.

“Cash, she killed for me.” the captain reminded in a dazed murmur.

“She’s really somethin’ then?” Cash made conversation as they creaked open the side door, an absolute racket of a sound in the otherwise sleeping boat, and stepped into the starboard side of the stables.

“Whadda you think?” Elvis sassed with smug awareness that Rosey really was something else.

“And ya love her?” Cash rumbled on in that easy way of his that would have you declaring shit you didn’t have figured out yet.

“Whadda ya think?” Elvis answered again and started weaving through the horses instead of going to his little closet and its cot and warm bosoms, “Hellfire, it’s a sea of horses down here.” he muttered as he walked down an aisle of where the tethered yet majestic creatures nipped at him with eager muzzles or else swished him with elegant tales, “Poor Beans, s’like berthing on a transport. Bullshit steerage accommodations for m’boy.” he bemoaned when he found him and Cash assumed Beans forgave all with the nearly amorous way the horse flung his head neck around Elvis’ and the two swayed in a cheek smashed embrace.

Removing himself from the equine reunion, Cash busied himself with going to the far side where the racks of loose hay puffed out between wooden slats and grabbed himself a bundle to replace Bean’s trodden supply. When he returned he found Elvis in discussion with someone, and after initially assuming it to be his tetched horse, Cash realized there was another fella down here with him, not one of the crew, just a sleepless soldier come to keep his horse company, or the other way around.

“Best cure for it.” Elvis was agreeing pleasantly to something the man had said and Cash assumed it was insomnia, “M’boy here’s always my first choice. Is your berth comfortable, got everythin’ ya need?”

“Yeah, it’ll do.” The man replied a few horses deep into the row and Cash squinted trying to make out a discernible facial feature in the gloom and all he succeeded at was recognizing yellow colored hair. “Sleep a whole lot better of they’d kept the female comfort aboard.” the man added with a joke.

“Ain’t fittin’ on a government boat, they says.” The Captain maintained a neutral tone and took to unsnarling one of the braids in Beans withers.

“I bet the rich bastard who ran this kept a few, ya know?” The man disagreed with a grin, “The guys have pooled together, we’ve got a decent amount of cash for anyone who wants to give us a tip to where we can find the maids. Can’t run a boat without maids.”

“You can.” Elvis replied a little harshly, “Leastwise they’re all men.” he added.

“Well, if we get desperate enough...” The fellow joked.

“If ya get desperate enough you’ll find yourself sucking lead outta my pistol ‘fore I let you mess around with my folks, that clear?” The captain crouched and yanked up the lantern he’d set on the floor and pushed it into the crowd of horses to make out the man’s face for future reference and illuminating his own. The man was nearly middle aged and was unremarkable really, in every way, except for the glinting brass uniform buttons running down the front of his navy blue jacket.

“Wh- shit me, you the captain?” the man asked in surprise, putting his hands up in a pacifying way, “Sorry sir, just kidding is all. It’s gonna be a long trip.”

It was indeed, nobody knew that better than Elvis and he decided the fellow was jovial enough, hell- if it weren’t for Rosey’s presence the captain would have taken such a joke in stride and he knew he was being irrational about it. He’d let rip with such humor himself at times and it didn’t mean anything, it didn’t and there was no use antagonizing his human cargo on the first day over a joke. The scuff of Cash’s boots behind him reminded him he didn’t need to be bowing up at everyone, mildness was the order of the day.

“Yeah, gonna be real long.” Elvis agreed and they exchanged tired smiles at each other, the fellow was missing a front tooth on his lower set and had a shock of golden hair that had turned a little straw-like from hard living. “You got a wife or kids?” he asked, stepping aside so Beans could munch on the hay Johnny brought.

“No, no I’m unattached.” the fellow replied, “It’s better that way I figure.”

“Whores don’t miss ya.” Elvis deducted with a conciliatory grin and the man took the offered olive branch with a knowing smile.

“I suppose they don’t.” the man laughed back. “You seem awfully familiar,” the man went on, “have we met? Did you used to work transport during the war?”

Elvis didn’t quite have the heart to tell the guy that even if they had met he was about as remarkable as a piece of straw and thus not memorable, a nice person didn’t deserve the insult so Elvis said instead, “Judging by your accent, I highly doubt I’d have been carryin’ you down river.”

“You an old Rebel then?”

“You’re a New Yorker?”

“I am.”

“Yeah, then, seems not.” Elvis shrugged, “Unless,” an awful thought struck him, “-you always been in the Calvary?” he inquired, his own interest peaked, knowing without a shred of vanity that his own face was not particularly forgettable and so when folks told him they’d met before he tended to believe them.

“No, used to be infantry.” the man was puzzled by this line of questioning, “Bought my own commission five years ago.”

“Shieet!” Elvis exclaimed, thinking he’d cracked it, “You ever guard at Elmira?”

“You were held in Elmira?” the guy repeated in disbelief.

“Uhuh, you ever guard there?”

“Hell no, a shit detail that.” the man was offended, “I was down chasing General Hood in Alabama.”

Elvis squinted at this dead end and stippled his fingers on Beans’ back, trying to think of an alternative meeting. “Hood was doing the chasin’, if I recall.” he snarked.

“And we were doing the killing.” the guy smiled back and Elvis let it be.

“Don’t leave the damn candle goin’ till it burns down,” Elvis warned as he and Cash turned to go, “the hay would be happy to catch and keep us from ever makin’ it to the Dakotas.”

“I won’t!” the man replied and as they walked down the cramped hallway that led to Hodge’s room and then Rosey’s, Elvis felt with the keen discernment of too much time spent in dark alleys that there were eyes pinned to his back in the dark hold, watching where he and his lantern went for the night. Elvis could curse the builder of this ship for all its lonely little cubbies, but he knew how to make use of them. Those eyes burned him all the way to his turn and he felt like scratching his shoulder blades, the itch was so strong.

Natural curiosity was a reasonable reason to give the man, but Rosey made the captain unreasonable, and before he turned he doused his wick and Cash stumbled straight into his back.

Instead of grumbling, his friend muttered, “lead on.” in a quiet tone that suggested he got the Captain’s ploy.

“You’re in here with Lamar,” Elvis opened the door to one tiny berth with double hammocks, “Charlie and Cal are across and I’m in through there to a storage closet.”

“Your girl got a gun?” Cash asked instead as he stood on his threshold, “I don’t like that sonuvabitch.”

“What do you take me for?” Elvis smacked his shoulder, “Course she does and not just any, I got her Stan Whatie’s lil ivory project.”

“No, hell, the Cherokee’s?”

“Mhmm, won it over cards.” Elvis said.

“I’ll be damned, you romantic bastard.” Cash marveled, “Don’t tell my June, it’ll heighten her standards and I don’t trust her standards on a game of cards.”

“I won’t.” Elvis snickered and bid him goodnight, creeping through the dark into the next room and fumbling between the cots till he thought he’d found Cal and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You’re precious, ya know that?” Charlie’s voice murmured back instead and Elvis’ head reared back with a shocked snort before he turned to the other bunk and its far smaller and utterly unconscious snoozer and repeated the kiss on the forehead originally intended.

He then felt along the wall until he felt the small latch and he pushed it open to find Rosey in nothing but her nightgown, still burning the midnight oil with her nose in a Pharmakea encyclopedia.

“Baby.” he whispered in greeting, tip-toeing past the chair and the trunks to their cot and being pleased as punch by the happy little cry she gave as she flung herself up in the bed to receive his kisses.

“Elvis!” she acted as if it had been years and her love had grown in the meantime and the small kiss he meant to give turned into a full embrace and his intentions for keeping away until he could strip from his work coat and keep her nightclothes unsoiled were irreparably thwarted by her vigor. “Today was a year long, I’ve waited and waited.” she moaned into his mouth and he grinned pleased against her cheek and peppered it with kisses that smelled of tobacco, “You smell of kerosene.” she laughed once she finally released him and he grinned down at her happily.

“You alright, darlin’?” he asked as he began to unbutton his coat, “How’re them bruises.”

He nodded to her chest and she rolled her eyes before assuring, “They’re fine.”

“I wanna see.” he insisted, but made no motion to make her, just kept popping buttons on his leather coat and she rather shyly tugged the wide scoop of her neckline down to show the tops of her breasts, unsure if this was routine or if she was meant to be seductive.

“Aww poor bubbies,” he mourned at the still present marks of the bindings, “Hoist ‘em up a little, I wanna see the undersides.”

With burning cheeks, Rosey scooped a breast in each hand and pushed them above the covering of her linen gown. The flash of hunger that seared though Elvis’ compassion made her shift in want on the cot.

“You been puttin’ the oil on ‘em like I told ya?” he asked.

“Yes I have.”

“S’very important, don’t be lazy about it.” he insisted. “Poor pretty babies, can’t believe I hurt ‘em like that. Gotta put oil on ‘em.”

“I know Elvis.” she agreed, “And what about you? How was it? We felt when you made the turn!”

“Did ya?”

“Yes, and I heard you yelling at Lamar.” she smiled shyly and he didn’t know why she looked so pleased about it.

“Oh.” he exclaimed, “Sorry ‘bout that, didn’t mean to be so angry. He's just such a bull about these things and ya gotta just ease it in, insistent but not forceful, ya know?”

“Don’t be sorry.” she simpered breathily and licked her lips, “You sounded like you were-“

“Like what?” He asked, genuinely confused, as he tried to find a place to hang his coat, “We really need more pegs in here.”

“You sounded like -a lover.” she hissed the last part, knees drawn up to her chin on the cot and he could pinch her cheeks, she looked so cute in her bashfulness.

“Did I?” he hummed, turning towards her as he emptied his various pockets of knives and timepieces and the like. “And did that excite my lil girl?”

“Maybe.” she whispered.

Oddly, he sniffed the air at her answer and squinted as if the findings puzzled him, “You ain’t played with yourself though, have ya?”

“Why- no. No I haven’t.” she gaped in some surprise.

“See, I’d know.” He told her with surety, “When I’ve been above deck all day I get my senses cleared, ya see? And when I come back down I can sense anything.”

“Oh.” her cheeks still flamed.

“Who else has been in here?” He asked after another sniff and his face darkened.

“Oh,” Rosey startled, “Sister Rosetta, she stopped by to remind me of my meeting, and Cal too, for a bit.”

“An-who else?” he asked with the look and tone of a man who already knew.

“Uh, well then there was Aida” Rosey kept her voice light, “she came so I could return her clothes to her.”

“Why’d you return them?”

“We’re done with them.” she replied, puzzled, “Aren’t we?”

“No, no, not necessarily.” he frowned, “And what’s the rush to return ‘em? She ain’t goin’ nowhere?”

“I just- I didn’t think. Sorry.”

“I don’t want you near her, you hear me, Rosey?”

“I-I do. But it wasn’t…she just came by.”

“I bet she did.” he seethed and he undid his vest with savage jerks and Rosey swallowed hard.

“I understand. But -no harm done this time.” she tried to pacify.

“You don’t need to seek out whores for friends, alright?” he went on, “And you don’t need to listen to whores for nothin’ regarding us. If I wanted a whore I’d go get me one. Some things are left better untouched, lil girl’s brains bein’ one.”

“Is she dangerous?” Rosey asked.

“Oh she done a thing or two in her time.” He agreed mirthlessly, “And been done a thing or two back, I suppose.”

“The doctor says her brain is rotting from the illness.” Rosey crossed her arms uncomfortably at the recollection and the rather obvious proofs of the same that being around the woman gave. Even the stench of flesh rotting that lasted hours after she’d gone. No amount of perfume or douched lemons could contain it.

“Why was he tellin’ you ‘bout her case?” Elvis demanded again. “He don’t need to be tellin’ a lady like you ‘bout syphillis’n’shit.”

“Is that what’s killing her?” Rosey asked.

“Most likely.” he shrugged, “They injected the mercury salts into her eyes for it a couple years ago, didn't do shit to slow it. I take ‘em orally and they burn. A- a-a-and I ‘member thinkin’ while I was holdin’ her down for it: nobody ever paid us more for a bit a pain as I paid for that fuckery.”

“You paid for that procedure?” she shuddered.

“She begged me, they said it would help. I-I-I hate her but -I couldn't just let her…rot.” he shook himself, “I'd rather someone shoot me ‘fore I get to that point. Why was he tellin’ you all this?” he argued again, brows knit and a hurt expression on his face, “Why you diggin’ into all this?”

“Elvis,” Rosey sighed and he took a breath too, as if aware he was tired and cranky, “the meeting was to discuss medications, you recall? We -our boat- spends an inordinate amount on medicines and opiates for our…so-called employees.”

“Yeah, cause this way a’livin makes you sick, Rosey.” His hands smacked his sides listlessly. “S’why Aida’s so doped up. Fuckin’ terrifies the shit outta me, and if I didn’t think God wouldn’t like, it I’d toss her overboard as bad luck. But no way around it”

“But you couldn’t have always felt that way,” Rosey reminded, “you were lovers once.”

The captain stopped what he was doing and spun round to face her with some alarm on his face, “That what she told you? That we was lovers once?”

“Well,” now that Rosey thought on it, Aida hadn’t explicitly said so, she’d just listed herself in a line of the Colonel’s erstwhile spies and remarked how seduction was integral to such a role, “no, she’s didn’t say so exactly-“

“-Well we weren’t!” he declared adamantly, as if for his own benefit as much as hers, “Doin’ shit to another body so folks pay ya don’t make ya lovers. It jus’ don’t, Rosey. No more’n me shoveling coal with Lamar makes us married.”

“Alright.” she replied just as adamantly in order to calm him and held up her hands while she was at it. “So y’all did…work…together?”

“I reckon you already knew that.” he muttered, yanking off a boot rather clumsily, “Why’re you so nosy tonight, anyways, hmm?”

“I-I just wanna know you.” she sighed.

“You do!”

“Know *of* you.” she clarified what bit of self recognition she’d come to realize this morning.

“Know Of? Wh- what’ve you been drinkin’ down here girl?” The captain laughed, “Gettin’ all philosophical on me. Ya know me, historically, biblically and a lil too well. I ain’t got any notion ‘bout takin’ you into sordid lil avenues of my life that don’t make no difference now.”

“But I think they do!” Rosey protested a little vehemently and he stopped midway through easing off with his workboot, hand cupping the scuffed heel as he stared her down. “I think it’s pertinent! All this stuff we don’t speak of! Why -you don’t sleep some nights and I dream terribly and -you haven’t even showed your interest to me since you learned who I was!” she managed to insert the most pressing aspect there at the end and felt proud of herself for carrying on through his stare.

“Lil girl, you gone tetched?” He asked mildly, stumbling over to the cot, one clunky boot on and his other a sock foot, laying his beautifully fashioned and wheel calloused palm against her forehead, “Why, I ain’t barely drank anything all day for fear of washin’ away the taste of you this mornin’. Not shown interest? -huh.”

“I mean -your own.” she pointedly stared down at his belt buckle, or rather, the prominent seam below.

“Rosey!” he laughed at her, “I’m dog tired a-and I -my interest has been shown. Sweet Jesus I ain’t got the brains for this. Not tonight.”

“So you can manage it dog tired with Aida but not with me!” she shot back and they both seemed to be equally surprised that she was harboring such expired jealousy.

“I can manage it fucked outta my mind with a gal who didn’t use to look the way she does now.” he growled and then went on in a mocking voice, “And it’ll cost ya only three silver dollars to watch, ma’am.”

Rosey sniffed and shrugged off the barb, figuring she deserved it, “Etta gave me a remedy for this.” she whispered hopefully instead.

“Oh I bet she did.” He eased off himself and stood straight again to work on his remaining boot, “And I’d rather eat fire ants, thank ya.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh it’s great!” He assured with a laugh, “For the first five hours. Then ya start thinkin’ bout amputation. If I catch you slippin Horny Goatweed in my tonics’n’shit I’ll take you over my knee girl, I ain’t teasin.”

“I won’t.” she swore, disturbed at the mere notion of slipping anything into anything he took.

He patted her cheek in acknowledgment before sitting down heavily beside her and setting to yanking off his grimy shirt, the pit stains dark and visible as he raised his arms and struggled with the garment.

“What’s this really about?” he asked softly as the fabric cleared his flushed face, his hair soft and mussed, grease defining each half-hearted curl at the nape of his neck.

“I’m bein’ silly.” she acknowledged with a shy smile.

“Ain’t no crime that.” he smiled back, “Not on my boat. Hell, there ever been a time you ain’t silly, girl?”

“Maybe not.”

“Didn’t think so.” he teased, leaning back against the wall in a slump on the cot’s sagging bedding. “Can’t I jus’ be tired, Rosey?” he asked again, “And I’ll let you be silly.”

“Fair enough.” she sighed.

“Well go on now, be silly. I done told ya you could.” he prodded with a finger to her rib and she jerked from the tickle.

“I know you don’t wanna talk about it.” she shook her head, “And you're tired so- so I won’t make you.”

“I don’t wanna.” he agreed but added sweetly, “I don’t wanna talk about mine but I’ll listen to yours, long as you need. What’s goin’ on up in that noggin? Too many figures, hmm?”

“Secrets more like.” Rosey mumbled petulantly.

“Lord, you got more?” he sighed and didn’t seem angry but she let out a scoff that he’d think she meant her own, she thought of the photographs.

“No,” she chose to leave it be, “no, I’m talking about more curatives.” she teased.

“Girl, just cool it.” he laughed, “I’ll lick ya again.” he offered hopefully and with a little twinkle in his eye that could almost pass for energy.

“What about turtle soup?” Rosey dodged, hopeful that a teasing reference to the first night they met and her naivete and his flustered concern for her eating the aphrodisiac back would rouse a smile.

It did. Predictably his mouth quirked and those pillowy lips looked twice as lush and full now set in a heavy thatch of two day old stubble. He let out a groan of playful aggravation with her preoccupation.

He gently grabbed her listless hand from her own lap and placed it on the rough denim covering his crotch. “You do what ya like.” he sighed, “Can’t promise nothin’.”

The seam was rough but not stiff, as if he’d worn those trousers into softness even at that most vulnerable juncture. As always with his package there was something to pet, even as she ascertained he was not fibbing, he was as soft and tired as he ever got and remained so despite her touches. Even in sleep he was stiffer. She let her hand cup the soft stones spilling on either side of the thick seam, far down between his legs, rubbing at their full undersides and wondering if they ached like her breasts when confined. He shifted on the cot, not in a restless movement at all, but rather as if to settle in for whatever she wished, his legs spreading wider. He even bent his knee and raised his leg to plant one bare foot on the cot, spreading himself as wide as a girl for her attentions, his tall frame cramped and folded by sitting sideways on their little bed.

His soft state inspired soft touches and Rosey found some stupid contentment stroking his sack through the worn denim, running the back of her knuckles up to his shaft that he had tucked nearly to his belt. She realized that despite her boredom with today she was tired too, tired of thinking and tired of mental exertions and ever since he’d taught her, she found this physical outlet far more relaxing than a sleeping tonic.

“I kneed a man here, between the legs, once.” she whispered like a child telling stories at a sleepover and squeezed his sack just the smallest bit. His eyes that had drifted shut while savoring her touches opened up in flutter.

He didn’t seem perturbed by that, by her need for violence, just drowsy from being petted. She should make him sleep. “You can smack me there…if ya like.” he whispered back, entirely serious and not even slightly hesitant. “If ya like -or, or pinch?” he added again as if he’d missed the mark oniy by sheer variety of options as she remained frozen in concern by the offer.

“I don’t.” she got out at last and he shrugged and let his eyes close again. “I-I don’t want anything but gentleness for you.” she expounded and he bit his lip and held his peace for a moment as Rosey mentally smacked herself at the realization he did tell her things, they did talk about…things. He just didn’t do it like a girl unburdening herself or a sinner in the confessional. He offered little insights freely like this one and she was too busy being horrified to notice them for what they were: confidences.

“Jus’ tonight, right?” he asked and meant for it to be teasing but it felt burdened.

‘Maybe he likes pain’ -Aida had said.

“I’d-“ Rosey weighed her options with this newfound awareness in mind, perhaps he would tell her more often what he wanted -like the first few weeks- if she remained a blank enough canvas for him to create on, “I’ll be whatever you want.” she settled for that and began palming him again, enjoying the way the fabric between his legs was still a little damp, either from mist or else his sweat from sitting at the wheel, legs unable to spread or air out. The way his shoulders were dry but the pits of his shirt could be wrung out suggested the same and some strange, torrid appreciation for his toil made Rosey’s mouth water.

There was an oil stain down at his inner thigh and she thumbed it thoughtfully and felt how the fabric was stiff from the stain compared to the rest. He made a soft little noise of contentment under her touches, his one hand busy in the most lazy way with petting her hair that fell all the way to her hip.

Touching. Being touched. God! she’d had so little of it in her life, and so much fear of it for so long and now she was leaning beside a man petting the damp seam of his trousers like a cat's neck. She wedged her hand under his thigh for leverage and bent herself to kiss at him there.

She could hear the staccato of his gasp even from there. “Rosey I-I ain’t even washed, sweet cheeks.” he warned softly.

“I know.” she answered and her voice was a moan, inhaling his pungent sweat, nothing clean about him and she rubbed her face in the pure distillation of his daily exertions like a cat in heat. “I want to smell you.” she told him and it made him swallow hard as she laid her hand on his thigh, the one spread out with his foot up in the covers, and spread him even further, that damned inherent flexibility of his being tested by the strain. His outer knee hit the mattress and it was Rosey that moaned at his ability and Elvis felt like he might shatter into fragments at the erotic pride that rushed through him at the thought of having impressed her.

“Sometimes it’s better, feeling rather than…being felt?” she tried to explain against the damp denim.

“I know!” he sounded more awake and enthused than he had all day, more than even this morning. “I-I know it’s -it’s glorious ain’t it?” and he pet her hair again with happy fervor until she rose up and knelt in front of him, beginning to undo his belt determinedly.

“You’ll wash in the morning.” Rosey decreed as she unfastened the buckle and tugged at the button holding in his warm belly.

“Yes lil’mama.” he agreed with hoarse meekness and drew up his other leg to make her efforts easier.

She opened the fly and tugged it apart, being hit by a wall of musk as he’d predictably poured himself straight into the denim this morning, sans underpants to collect the sweat. He was nearly steaming in that denim hammock. She envied the wash maids and their tasks.

She told him as much and laughed incredulously. “You’ve gone silly.” Elvis swore again.

“No, they treasure your sweat-soiled clothes, I’m sure of it.” she shook her head and reached out with the tips of her fingers to touch the dank appendage and its hammock of swollen stones, the dark curls of his wiry hair almost shiny from the sweat. “Those girls find your trousers -they fight over them i wager- and the winner holds them up and presses them to their faces like this-“ and she put her face to him like a girl kissing at the reflection of a still pond, her hands winding around his waist and digging into the damp back of his trousers, kneading sticky, plush flesh there, too. “-and then she licks at your trouser seams,” and Rosey underscored her point by doing the same to the imprint of his seam on tender pink flesh, “and she moans over the tartness she tastes and the rest of them hate her for what they can’t have. And if she’s really brave-“ Rosey couldn’t believe her own mind at this rate but face pressed to the Captain’s musky balls, she wasn’t truly in possession of any rationale beyond him, him and him, “-she’ll take them to the little closet with the feed sacks and she’ll prop herself up and she’ll touch herself to the smell of you. Wishing she could thank you for your hard work.”

“I haven’t any washer maids.” he whispered while looking down at her eyes with wide, guileless blue ones that were somehow playing a part with their projected innocence while being more himself than anything else about him. “I got rid of them all.” he says.

“Then I’ll have to wash them myself.” she murmured back, raspy and coy, “And I’ll be the one to thank you accordingly.”

The Captain sucked in a breath so hard at this predictable reply that his bottom lip went with it, pinned between his teeth ‘till the vibrant pink turned white under his cruel bite. “Can I watch?” he asked, his voice hoarse with hope. “Watch you be my lil washermaid?”

“So long as you don’t let maid know.” Rosey cautioned with a smirk and dug her hands deeper into his backside, pulling him apart absentmindedly until she felt his cock wag beneath her chin with the first ounce of interest shown tonight. She reared back and stared at the docile thing, twitching pathetically when she dug her nails in a little harsher once more. He sucked in a breath and turned his head to the side and Rosey took her hands out of his trousers to tug the front of his pants further down those sturdy thighs.

She’d no real intention of exciting him after all, only missed him and wanted to taste him before sleep. Tomorrow or next month or eternity was ahead of her to sort out why he responded the way he did. For now her duty was to put him to sleep where he belonged ages ago.

“A big man like you has got to be discreet,” she plotted with him and his face eased as they returned to their play, “the little washermaid wouldn’t know how to face the captain if he found her in such a degradi-“

“-uninhibited position, yes, God, yes!” he interrupted her with an appreciative rush and turned the subject sweet.

“You'll wash in the morning, I want to smell you all night.” she murmured again as she stood up and fully tugged his trousers off over his long feet, making him close his legs from their previous bend.

“Yes’m.” He murmured a little dazed and he looked like he was answering while asleep, the poor man was so visibly tired and she tenderly pushed his naked form to lay down the proper way, all the way flat, on their bedding.

She was not sure what it was about skipping a bath that made him seem more manly, more than he even usually was, but seeing his figure laying there naked on the ratty sheets, hairy and greasy from sweat and the stubble coming in thick -she palmed a breast at the sight of it, distracted from her debate as to keep her nightgown on.

“Strip.” his eyes fluttered in an effort to stay open but they flicked up and down her cotton gown and his eyebrow moved in a motion that was as eloquent as a hand waving it off. “You’ll be warm enough w’me.” he assured her of what she was already sure of.

Rosey drew the gown over her head and tossed it beside the Captain’s denims, only her long hair a covering over her shoulders as she stared down at him once more, savoring the beauty she was about to embrace before reaching high above her and turning the gas lamp out.

Plunged into darkness, she shuffled the couple feet left before her shins hit the cot’s edge and a large, warm hand cupped the back of her thigh and tugged her in. She fell atop him and wiggled till she was tucked into his side, her hand petting at the light fur on his chest and her nose nearly buried in the swamp of his underarm.

He grunted disbelieving at her choice. “How’re you feelin?” she asked, touching his forehead in the dark with the back of her hand, finding it a little clammy but not fevered.

“M’tired.” he replied and none of that had anything to do with Dr. Nicholas and his ponderous list of life

-threatening diseases the man beside her was supposedly harboring.

“You’re not holding off…making love to me…for fear of getting me sick, are you?” she whispered the concern of the day, finally.

“I-I told ya why I’m holdin’ off, Rosey.” he sounded a bit pained but not angry.

“You promise? You’re not just putting it off to spare me -something?“ She begged.

“There’s been nothin’ I was ever less inclined to put off, my girl.” he murmured tiredly as he turned on his side, mashing his face into her breast, giving an accentuating hump of his pelvis against her hip.

“All my life, I ain’t ever been the first choice.” she muttered and his arm tightened around her, “I’ve killed for other women, for Maddy, the ones who were chosen. Wanted, when others-“ she trailed off before picking up in a thin voice reedy with confusion, “-I was talkin’ with Rosetta earlier and I realized I-I was there. I was there for it and not even they wanted me. A dozen men, one woman, and I-I was left alone. I know I should be glad of it.”

Elvis stared at the blackness that somewhere shielded a face he longed to read, but that poor little voice told him a world enough of hurt. He clutched her closer and was going to ask what on earth she meant, who and when and what sort of want she referred to when Rosey added as through in a sob:

“Poor Maddy.”

He startled and turned to grip her in a hug, processing what he was frightened she meant. “That -child, that ain’t no compliment.” he begged her to understand. “Even some of the worst don’t go for -you were a child.”

“Was I? I don’t recall.” she whispered.

“Yes you were.” he declared it, made it truth, “Jus’ ‘cause you only recall it now you’re grown, don’t mean you weren’t a child back then.”

“I’d forgotten.” She repeated, numb in horror at the thought of what else was buried.

“You -you recall anythin’ more?” he asked what he was so very scared to know, hardly sure he could carry the weight of more but certain only a coward would make her carry it alone.

“It took ages.” she whispered, “My knees hurt somethin’ awful from kneeling behind the stove. Took forever for them all to stop.”

The captain crushed her to him and she gripped his back like a shield, “You can tell me, Little Cricket.” he soothed, “Can tell me anythin’ at all.”

“Can I?” she sniffled .

“Mhmm.”

“Then I will -if I recall.”

“Good girl.” He whispered into the damp of her forehead, placing an almost fatherly kiss there.

“So you planned on it, marryin’ me fully? Sickness and all, you swear?” she smiled at the pitch black hollow of his throat, grateful to have it out and trying to gauge with her hands whether a fever burned his life away even now.

“Rosey, I didn’t once plan on you.” Elvis admitted with an affectionate pat and promptly fell asleep.

Go ahead and scream and speculate and gush all you want, I love. Hope you enjoyed💋

**dialogue credit to Captain Smitty

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#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #baby elvis #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis au

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tartigglez · 1 year

Note

OH MY GOD??? BIRTHDAY??? womb evacuation day, as i like to call it🙀

this got me thinking tbh. modern au, what time would genshin men tell u happy birthday?

first up our 00:01 squad would text u or pull up outside.. mmm thoma 100% hes down bad,, childe as well!! potentially venti

next the boys who wouldn't text and go out of their way to see u first thing!! diluc, kazuha & itto (trust me on this one!!)

would tell u whenever they happened to remember/see you that day .. kaeya, gorou, albedo

WOULD FORGET :(( ayato, xiao

failed to figure out how to text you and spent the morning pecking at phone buttons -zhongli

-🫧

Hi bubbly nonnie!! i sincerely apologise for my tardiness (yes i still have your diluc req in the inbox, yes i'm working on it). anyway, here's what i think...

(romantic pairings bc i'm just like that)

"birthday"

thoma, childe, kaeya, zhongli, diluc (separate) x gn!reader

genre: drabble

word count: idk (oops)

a/n: i'm lazy, its been summarised, i don't even count this as a fic i'm just trying to make it look like one because you guys haven't been fed recently and i sincerely apologise. also i made up shit about fontaine to make it fit, do excuse xoxo

thoma definitely shows up outside with cake and a party hat for you both at 12am sharp. does a little dance whilst singing happy birthday to you, and once you've both gotten back into the house and you've blown your candles out, he will immediately pull you in by the waist and kiss you, he just wants you to know he appreciates you!

childe has a tradition each year of making sure he is with you on your birthday, he wants to be there to congratulate you on a new year of you, the second it comes along. The second the clock hits the hour of your birthday, he hugs you tightly before separating from you, announcing...

"you're just as beautiful as last year, darling"

kaeya, the flirty bastard... is still flirty. BUT doesn't want to bother you late at night so instead, he will find you in the morning, when you're in mondstadt buying some groceries, approach you from behind whilst you're trying to buy some fruits (he almost got himself punched) and wrap his arms around your waist. yes you very nearly elbowed him in the stomach, he managed to step out of the way. would casually place his head on your shoulder from behind whilst hugging you and announce, in a low tone...

"happy birthday my dear, i've gotta run, knighthood calls. see you tonight?"

"thanks, kae. see you tonight"

and not that either of you noticed, but the fruit vendor happened to overhear you both, offering you the produce for free.

"if there's anything the people of mondstadt know, far better than barbatos' winds, or how to spot a good wine, it's the cavalry captains love for his partner. here, have a nice birthday, y/n."

unfortunately due to circumstance, zhongli was not able to be in liyue on your birthday. of course, this made him quite upset. he would have teleported back only he had an important meeting in fontaine, and it was stipulated in a contract that he couldn't teleport, lest someone found out about something they shouldn't. thankfully, he had been gifted a smartphone by you for his own birthday the previous year, which he still hadn't quite figured out how to use.

at first he thought he should call you, forgetting that time zones were a thing. sadly by the time he had actually figured out how to make a call (he had to ask focalors, it was an awkward interaction, she also did not know.) he realised that you were quite a few hours ahead of him, and had probably already gone out for the day and couldn't chat.

so he decided to text you. which did not go well (his hands are too big for those damned tiny buttons). he isn't sure till this day if the message even sent, because you never responded.

turns out he had sent it to tartaglia, who actually understood phones enough to forward the text to you...

"gaooy biethdsy mt libe, u hipe thus dsy ia as beauutofil as tou"

diluc is bad at romance. let me rephrase that: diluc does not know how to express his feelings, but wants to spend your birthday with you, so he tries to make it look like an accident that he just happened to be by your side all day.

first thing in the morning, you will notice a noble eagle flying in the sky outside your home. you knew that this bird was none other than dilucs own.

"how strange... why couldn't he just ask me to come to the winery...?"

nevertheless, the large bird flew its way down to land on your garden fence, its sharp talons somehow not scratching the wood, and called to you (i know nothing about birds, sorry), before flying back into the sky in the direction you knew diluc would be waiting. so, you had no choice but to follow it, right?

upon arriving at the winery, you were met by a handsome man in a black dress shirt, holding a bouquet of cecelias. he grabbed your hand and kissed you on the cheek.

"happy birthday, y/n"

SORRY THESE STARTED OFF SHORT AND THEN MY BRAIN STARTED INFODUMPING ON ME

i apologise thoma stans (i'm one of you) i have let you down this day

#cael is talking to 🫧 anon :0 #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #thoma x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #morax x reader #holy fuck this is so many tags x reader #zhongli fluff #diluc fluff #dilucatdeeznuts #ok i'm done

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photogirl894 · 5 months

Text

@clonexreaderbingo

Square: Hunter

My first Clone x reader bingo one shot was a big hit and readers begged for more of the story of Hunter and the Princess reader...well, my loves, your wishes have been granted! This one shot is a sequel to "An Order from a Princess", which I'd obviously recommend reading first, if you haven't already 😜 Enjoy!!

As Clone Force 99 came wandering into Cid’s bar, the female Trandoshan approached them and said, “I got another job for you, boys.”

“When do you not have a job for us?” Wrecker asked back, annoyed.

“Hey, can it, Muscles!” she cried. “Me having jobs for you keeps you paid and under the Empire’s radar, so don’t sass me.”

“What is it this time?” asked Hunter, exasperated.

Cid held up a data disc, like usual. “Call just came in,” she said. “It’s an extraction job. The Empire laid siege to some planets in the Inner Rim and there’s a few planetary leaders who need to get out. They were in the middle of a conference when the attack happened, so now they’re all hostages. All the information is on this disc.”

Tech then spoke up, “We managed to free the Senator from Raxus from his hostage situation, so we should have no issue with this mission.”

“Good. Better get to it,” stated Cid as she tossed the disc to Tech.

With that, the Clones all turned back around and made their way back to the Marauder. After Tech got the ship into the air and into hyperspace, they all gathered around at their navicomputer to see the mission information that was on the disc.

“It looks like there’s a holomap of the facility where they’re keeping the hostages,” Tech explained. “They’re being kept on the uppermost floor.”

“We could either take the lifts inside or scale the building on the outside,” Echo suggested.

There was a grunt of dissent from Wrecker. “Nuh-uh, I am not climbing the outside of the building!” he exclaimed.

“That’s fine. You can be with the inside team,” said Tech.

“Good,” said Wrecker.

“Can I climb the building?” Omega inquired eagerly.

Hunter answered firmly, “Absolutely not. If I didn’t like you hanging outside the ship on one of our last missions, what makes you think I’ll let you scale the outside of an Imperial facility?”

She groaned with disappointment.

“Oh dear. Hunter…you’re going to want to see this,” Tech then stated, his voice bordering on hesitant. When Hunter turned back to look at the screen, Tech pointed out what he’d just pulled up: “This is a list of names of the hostages.”

Hunter’s eyes carefully scanned the list, trying to figure out what it was Tech said he’d need to see. It didn’t take him long to find it and his heart nearly stopped.

Halfway down the list…was the name of his beloved Princess he’d left behind a long time ago.

Your name.

You found yourself alone in an isolated cell. The Imperial officer who was handling the hostages had realized who you were and instructed that you be taken to your own cell, deeming you too much of a threat to be kept with everyone else. He wanted to deal with you personally, which you weren’t looking forward to. You could only hope that the distress signal your comrades had managed to send before you were captured would reach someone in time.

In recent years, you had made quite a name and reputation for yourself. You had gone from an entitled, diplomatic Princess to a courageous warrior Princess. You had chosen to put aside the politics and took up arms instead, fighting for your people. There were still people from time to time who tried to either assassinate you or attack your planet, but you would no longer stand aside and watch other people fight for you. You would be the leader your people really deserved and you would battle alongside them, even if everyone on your council was highly against you putting yourself in danger. It was what you felt was right and, no matter how much your councilors tried to argue, you had the final say in everything. This was your choice and you were standing by it. You had trained in a couple different forms of combat, which had served you well. Over time, you had become a force to be reckoned with.

Your eyes drifted down to your wrist as you untied the red band that you had wrapped around it. You held it in your hand and ran your thumb tenderly over the skull etched on one side of it. Then you turned it over and read for the millionth time the four Aurebesh words that were on the other side, left for you by your former bodyguard that had stolen your heart completely.

My Princess, my love.

In truth, Hunter was the reason you had become the Princess you were now. His bravery and dedication when he had served you had inspired you to do better and to become more. You wanted to be a fighter like he was and protect others the way he so dutifully protected you when he had saved you from an assassination attempt a long time ago. Along with one of his bandanas, he had also left you one of his vibroblades, which was also part of what had inspired you. In the note he’d left with the blade, he told you to keep practicing with it and you took that to heart. Now, it was the main weapon you used in every fight and you were beyond proficient with it. If Hunter could see you fight one day, you believed he’d be so proud. Along with your blaster, the Imperials had taken your vibroblade away and you were furious. You were determined to get your knife back when you escaped. Not if you escaped; when. You had to have hope in this unfortunate time. It's what would get you through it.

It's what you knew Hunter would do.

The plan ended up being that Wrecker, Echo and Omega would attack outside the building the hostages were being kept in and cause a distraction while Tech and Hunter would climb the outside and infiltrate the top floor, freeing the hostages while the Imperials were occupied. The diversion went off without a hitch. Wrecker started it off with a few thermal detonators, which grabbed the Imperials’ attention right away and they sent squads of Droids to deal with the intruders. Once Echo gave Hunter and Tech the all-clear, the other two, who had gone around to the other side, used the grapples on their blasters to get themselves up the side of the building. They were careful to pick a spot that had less viewports where they could be spotted. Finally, they reached an outdoor terrace and climbed over the banister where Tech overrode the code for the door that led inside. Luckily, there were only a couple of Imperial guards that were inside the room.

As the enemy began firing at them and they evaded the blasterfire, Tech said to Hunter, “You go find your Princess, Hunter. I’ll handle getting the rest of the hostages.”

“Are you sure?” asked Hunter, dodging another shot.

“Of course, I am,” Tech replied, pulling both blasters out. “Now go. I’ll cover you.”

They both ducked out from behind the doorframe and Tech fired his blasters at the Imperial guards. Hunter slammed his shoulder into the stomach of another, body-checking him and shoving him out of the way as he ran to the other side, opened the door and made his way out into the hallway. He knew that going left would lead down to where the rest of the hostages were, but going right would lead him to you. Knowing this, he turned right and booked it. As he ran, all he could wonder was if you were all right. He hoped you hadn’t been badly hurt. If you had been, then this whole base of Imperials was going to pay.

He got to the singular hallway that had one door at the end and two guards standing in front of it. This was where he knew you would be. Hunter was quick with his blaster and took down the guards immediately. Once they were down, he put in the code to the door, the door swished open and there, standing against the back wall, he saw you.

You were different now than when he last saw you. He expected to find you in a nice dress, done up with makeup and jewels like before…but not this time. You were dressed in regal leather armor, a jacket and a large scarf. Your hair was up and still held up by jeweled clips and there were simple, dangly earrings in your ears. You definitely looked somewhat like a Princess, but not as much as you had when Hunter had last left you, which surprised him.

You had heard the commotion outside the door followed by the thud of bodies dropping and beeping of the console outside. The door opened and you saw an armored figure walk in. The armor was a variety of colors, but it was mostly tan, light blue and orange and there was a red scarf around their neck. As the figure drew nearer, you caught sight of their helmet and something about it seemed familiar, though you couldn’t place why at first.

“Are you all right?” he asked, approaching you.

His voice…you recognized it, too.

“Do I know you?” you asked for clarification.

The figure lifted his helmet from his head, revealing a head of long, dark hair, a red bandana across his forehead and a familiar, handsome tattooed face you hadn’t seen in so long; one you saw frequently in your dreams. You gasped in shocked disbelief.

“Hunter?”

“Do you really not recognize me, my love?” he asked back with a grin.

You leapt onto him, throwing your arms around his neck, and embraced him fondly as he held you close. “Of course, I do,” you replied. “How could I ever forget the man I love?”

It warmed his heart to know that after all this time, you still loved him as much as he still loved you. He pulled back just a little and kissed you hard with passionate longing that almost made your knees give out. Even though you were a tougher, hardened fighter now, Hunter still made you just as weak as he had long before.

“What are you doing here?” you then inquired after breaking the kiss.

“We're your extraction team,” he told you.

“So the rest of the boys are here, too?” you asked.

He nodded. “Tech is getting the other hostages and the rest are causing a distraction. I came for you personally.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I didn't initially. We were given the job and then Tech spotted your name on the list of hostages. But we'll have time to catch up later. We need to get out of here.”

“Not yet. There's something I need first,” you told him as you followed him out of the room.

You spotted a panel in the wall in the hallway. That must be where your weapons were. You searched the guards and found the access card you were looking for, scanned it outside the panel and it slid open. Sure enough, your blaster and your blade were inside and you pulled them out.

After putting your blaster back in your holster, you gave your vibroblade a good twirl in your hand and grinned at Hunter as you did so. “Recognize this?” you questioned.

“I assume that’s the one I gave you?” he asked back.

“Indeed, it is,” you said, smiling, as you gave it a final flourish and then sheathed it.

“You seem much better with it now,” he observed.

“I’ve trained a lot with the blade since you left. Thought I might as well get good use out of your gift,” you explained. “Now, let’s go!”

With an affirming nod, Hunter slipped his helmet back on and stated, “Follow me, Princess.”

The two of you ran as fast as you could down the hall and in the direction where you could hear more blasterfire coming from. You had to keep looking beside you at Hunter as you ran to make sure this wasn’t your imagination playing tricks on you. You still couldn’t believe that he was really here; that you two were together again in the least likely of places. It just seemed too good to be true...and yet it was true all the same.

After a minute, you both rounded a corner and found the other hostages hiding behind an adjacent wall from the blasterfire and Tech was ducking out from behind the wall to fire shots at the Droids that had the exit blocked off. The other Bad Batchers were taking care of the rest of them, as well. You only recognized Wrecker. There was another Clone with pale skin and a young blonde girl with an energy bow that was with them that you didn’t know. They must’ve been new members.

“We need to help them,” you stated and, without waiting, ran forwards into the fray.

“(Y/N), wait!” Hunter cried out, but it was already too late and you were in the middle of the battle.

What Hunter then witnessed was beyond anything he could’ve ever dreamed of.

The finesse, the agility, the prowess, the fluidity…the way you fought through the Droids with practically just your vibroblade could’ve rivaled even his own skills. You leapt onto one battle Droid, stabbed at the base of its neck and, as it fell forward, rolled forward off of it, came up to a knee and swiftly swung into nearby Droids’ legs. When one came at you and started shooting, you suddenly front-flipped over it and thrust your blade into its back upon landing before pulling it out and slicing through another nearby Droid. He had never expected to see you fighting so expertly and it was amazing to behold…and incredibly attractive, too.

Then Tech appeared beside you and remarked as you both continued fighting, “A pleasure to see you alive and well, your Highness.”

“Likewise, Tech,” you responded to him. “I see you guys have picked up some new members since last we met.”

“Indeed and proper introductions will have to be done later,” said Tech as he shot down a couple more Droids. “Right now, our primary directive is to get you and the other delegates to safety.”

“Understood,” you said back.

You and the Bad Batch continued to fight for the next few minutes until all the battle Droids were destroyed. Tech informed the rest of the politicians that there were still ships in the hangar; their ships, he assumed, that they could take to get away.

As everyone made their way out from behind the wall, Wrecker and the other two you didn't know came over to you. “Good to see you again, Princess. You're quite the feisty fighter now!” he remarked to you.

“Thank you. I'm glad you think so,” you replied. Then you looked between the new people and stated, “These are new faces to me.”

Hunter came up by your side and told you, gesturing to the Clone man and then the girl, “This is Echo and Omega.”

They both said their “hello's” to you and Omega gave you a wave, as well.

“Hunter told us about you. You're much prettier than even he described,” said Omega.

Flattered, your cheeks went hot, your hand moved up over your heart and you said back, “Oh, you're far too kind, Omega. Thank you.”

She smiled brightly in return.

“Where's Crosshair?” you then asked.

All their faces shifted to discomfort as Hunter answered, “He’s…no longer in our squad. He defected to the Empire.”

“He what?” you cried. “How could he do something like that?”

“It doesn't matter. He made his choice and we made ours,” he answered. Then to quickly change the subject, he told you, “You've changed, Princess. I never thought I'd see you fight like that.”

You grinned at him. “I'm a warrior Princess now. I've had a lot of combat training since last you saw me.”

“I can tell,” he said. “I'm quite impressed.”

“We should get moving and make sure everyone gets to their ships,” Echo suggested.

Everyone agreed and you and the Clones took off after the others. You ran back to the hangars where sure enough, everyone's ships were still there, to your surprise. All of the other delegates made their way to their respective ships, but you, however, stopped in your tracks. You knew you should make your way to your ship…but you were with Hunter again and you so badly wanted to go with him.

Maybe this was your chance for you two to be together again. You didn't have to go back home; you could go with him and his squad and you'd never be apart again. All those months of longing and loneliness would finally be worth it. In the moment, you wanted nothing more than to follow him to his ship and never look back on your royal life again.

Hunter's voice saying your name broke you out of your thoughts and you saw he was standing in front of you, an inquisitive look on his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You gave a shake of your head, coming back to reality and answered, “Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just…thinking.” You stole a quick look at your ship where the other delegates you'd come with were already boarding. An uneasy feeling ate away inside you at the thought of abandoning your royal duties for your own desires.

Then you turned to Hunter and said to him, “My love…I want to go with you….”

He took your hands and replied, “Yes, come with me. We can finally be together and I'll still keep you safe.”

You shook your head. “You didn't let me finish.” You took a deep breath and then said, “I want to go with you…but I can't. At least, not right now.”

Right away, you could see the clear disappointment in Hunter's eyes at your words.

Then you explained to him, “The Empire is spreading and occupying planets across the galaxy. They already came for this one and it won't be long before they attempt to lay siege to my planet.” You laid a hand on Hunter's cheek. “I would love nothing more than to stay with you, but I can't leave my people now. I must return home and warn them and prepare them for what's to come. I'm their Princess and I'm going to have to lead them in our fight against the Empire when they inevitably come for us. I have to do what's right for my people; for my home...just like I know you would.”

Those last words were what struck the Sergeant to the core and his head lowered into your hand, a light sigh escaping him.

You kept going, “You're the reason I am what I am now, Hunter. The bravery and courage you showed me when you were my bodyguard inspired me. I wanted to protect others the way you protected me. I no longer wanted to serve my people by hiding behind the wall of politics and I chose to fight alongside them. I can't abandon them.” You guided his head forward until your foreheads gently met. “I love you more than anything in this galaxy and I do hope one day, we can stay together…but sadly, that day can't be today. I hope you understand.”

“I do understand,” he replied before leaning back to look at you. “You have a duty to your people just as I have a duty to mine. We both have responsibilities that have to come before our own wants.”

You nodded, but you couldn't hold back the tears that began welling up in your eyes. Hunter didn't fail to notice and he caressed your cheek, which only made you let out a small cry and a couple tears escaped, which he brushed away. Even though you knew you were doing what was right, it still hurt knowing you had to let him go a second time.

“This won't be the last time we'll be together,” he assured you.

“I know,” you said. You reached into a pouch and pulled out a comm device. As you held it out to him, you said to him, “Take this. This way, we can keep in contact and when the time is right, we can find each other again.”

He gingerly took it from your hand and slipped it into his own belt. “I eagerly await that day,” he said. Then, motioning to your ship with his head, he stated, “You should go. They'll be waiting for you.”

You gave him a nod.

“One last thing,” he said before you could walk away. When you gave him a curious look, he smiled and said, “Kiss me.”

You couldn't help but smile, too, knowing he was calling back to your first days together when you'd tried ordering him to kiss you and then did so again the night before he left, but in a more loving way. You closed the distance between you and pressed your lips firmly yet lovingly against his, savoring the moment as much as you could to hold onto in your memories until your next meeting.

When you pulled apart, he whispered to you, “I love you, my warrior Princess.”

“I love you, too, my faithful Sergeant,” you said back.

With that, you turned away and jogged back to your ship just as you heard the engines firing up. As you got to the ramp, you stole one last glance over your shoulder at Hunter, taking in the face of the one you loved one last time before disappearing into the ship.

Hunter stood in place and watched as your ship lifted off from the hangar and soared into the sky, followed by the rest of the delegates’ ships. He kept his eyes on your ship until it disappeared into the clouds. His heart hurt within him, but he knew the pain would soon pass. He had left you before and now you had left him, but both times were for more important reasons. You both were needed elsewhere, despite how much you needed each other. He'd had faith before that you would be reunited and it had happened just as he'd hoped. That meant that he would inevitably see you yet again in the future and he believed that wholeheartedly.

Tech came up next to him and asked, “Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I'll be fine.”

“You had to let her go again. That could not have been an easy choice,” said Tech.

“It was more her choice this time,” Hunter clarified, “but I was all right with that. She needs to protect her people, as she should.” His eyes looked up to the sky again where he'd last seen your ship. “She's grown so much and I'm proud of her.”

“Indeed,” Tech agreed. “Do you think you'll see her again?”

“I know I will,” Hunter answered with confidence. “Our time apart won't last forever…because our story is only just beginning.”

Clone x Reader Bingo 2023

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch hunter #hunter x reader #cfb2023

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anonauthorsworkshop · 9 months

Note

helloo, i stumbled upon ur mha x scp au and AHDSIHDSGISDGJ UR WRITING??? IS SO GOOD?? (also im new here hi, can i be 🎭 anon) more mha x scp au pls /nf tho

hii 🎭 anon :) i get a lot of requests for this au haha, sure!

previous part here

AU where MC is transported into the MHA universe with a SCP-summoning quirk. essentially a MHA and SCP crossover. you can read the rest of the parts under the tag #pp mha au

(note: i have never watched or read mha in my life and all of my knowledge is from fanfics and lazily googled questions! sorry in advance for any mischaracterizations or anything that just... doesn't make any sense? lol)

You lean forward, nearly falling off of your chair in the process. Squinting your eyes into narrow lines, you focus on one, crucial objective:

Trying to figure out what the hell is sitting right in front of you.

He looks like a cat, sort of. He reminds you of Josie, or, well, 529, with his feline-esque features and all.

Oh, you really should summon Josie here again sometime. It's been quite a while since you last have. That cat makes a good cuddle buddy. Even if she's missing the entire other half of her body.

You hum in thought, continuing to careen forward from your chair. No! This thing across from you is nothing like Josie. His ears look more like a bear, like 1048. Or could he be a dog? No, no... You've got it! He's definitely a rat!

Leaning back, you return to a proper sitting position and internally applaud yourself for finding the solution to your own ridiculous question. A rat, you think to yourself, face smug. Reminds me of a certain mask that drips black snot.

Wait a minute. The satisfied expression you adorn falters as you inspect the rat closer. What if it's not a rat, but a mouse?!

No, you're getting sidetracked! You take another bite of the banana you have graciously been given by your... captors? Do they count as captors if you willingly went with them?

The clearing of a throat. "Excuse me. If you could please answer the question..."

Oh, right. They're not really your 'captors,' just your interrogators, (that provide you with free food, might you add).

"What was the question again?" you ask, before not-so-elegantly stuffing the rest of the banana down your throat. You couldn't help but cave into your stomach's hunger; you haven't tasted this quality of fresh food in years! No more scavenging for meals or rummaging through garbage bins!

The man in uniform raises an inquiring eyebrow. You examine the badge attached to his right breast pocket: 'Detective Tsukauchi.'

He gestures to his side. "He asked you for your name."

Your eyes follow his hand's movements, and you find yourself gazing at the rat once more. "Oh, I wasn't paying attention." You admit shamelessly, grabbing another banana from the bowl placed before you. "I'm Y/N."

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N." The rat smiles. You absentmindedly nod in response. "I'm Nezu, the principal of U.A. High. The man beside me is Detective Tsukauchi," you glance at the final stranger, "and this is Aizawa, a teacher at this school. He is also the one who found you. We would like to ask you some questions, as you are already aware."

"Sure," you comply, shoving another banana into your mouth. "I don't mind."

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen, I think."

"Who are your parents?"

You shrug, nonchalantly reaching for another banana. "Don't have any."

Nezu's grin widens slightly, and you watch him place a paw below his jaw. "Would you be comfortable telling us about what happened in that alley?"

Cocking your head to the side, you carefully peel off the banana's skin. "Which one?"

The detective speaks up. "The one you were found in."

Chewing another bite of your food, you tap a finger to your chin in thought. "Well, I was asleep until I heard a bunch of noise." Slowly, you turn to Nezu, replicating his ear-to-ear smile as you dramatically retell your experience.

"I looked up from my home, my beloved alleyway cardboard box, and saw two groups of people fighting. I decided to hide in my box until it was all over, but then one of them crashed into my home. They crumpled my box, and my hiding spot was revealed! The two groups started arguing about 'gang territory,' or whatever, and one of them decided to use me as a hostage and pointed a gun to my head."

You sink your teeth into your banana once more, oblivious to the horrified looks from every adult in the room.

"Oh, but it was fine," you casually continue, mouth half-full, "since, you know, I took care of it and all."

"When you say that you 'took care of it,'" the detective asks cautiously, "do you mean that you used your quirk?"

"My... quirk?" You scratch the back of your neck. "I guess it's my quirk? Don't know too much about 'quirks,' to be honest. I've never been to a doctor, or whatever specialist you go to for checking those out."

"Could you describe to us what it was that you exactly did?"

You gulp down the rest of your banana before replying. "You mean, in that alley? I summoned, or, like, conjured up one of those, uh." You pause, replacing 'SCPs' with another word to prevent further confusion. "Creatures? One of those creatures."

Tsukauchi looks you in the eye. "These creatures that you summon." You glance at the detective's hands, and you notice that they're trembling. "What do they do? What do they look like?"

"Usually I summon them to help and protect me." You explain with a shrug, "Oftentimes I encounter people who want to hurt me for some reason. There's a bunch of, er, 'creatures,' that I can summon, and they don't typically look like your perception of what's 'normal.'"

You continue, "There are endless possibilities, really. One looks like a teddy bear, just covered in human ears." Tsukauchi's eyes widen, as if his suspicions have been confirmed. "There's some that are long and bony. Some of them have these gigantic claws and razor-sharp mouths. Some of them are all gooey and acidic-"

"I believe that's enough." You turn to the side, taking a brief glimpse at Aizawa, who is standing beside you. Those were the only words he's spoken this entire time.

Turning back to the other two, you're about to grab another banana when you catch sight of the detective. You stare awkwardly, your hand paused mid-air. He seems to have completely spun on his heel to face away from you, hands clutching the wall as he gags and dry heaves. You scoot back in your chair uncomfortably.

"...And you do not have a home, correct?" Nezu stands up from his seat, approaching yours.

"Well, I did, but like I said, my cardboard box was destroyed because of those two rival gangs, or whoever they were."

"I see." He raises a paw so as to pet the top of your head. You clumsily bend down in your chair, allowing the two-foot-tall principal to reach your height. "We can arrange something for you. You may stay in a personal dorm here for free, if you would like." He smiles, "So long as you attend this school, the police force has also gladly agreed to erase your criminal record!"

You gawk at him. "C-criminal record?" Well, you guess you usually do end up leaving a mess of dead bodies behind, but it's always in self-defense!

"You should know it is illegal to use your quirk unlicensed and in public, Y/N."

Surveying the room, you dart your eyes from person to person. In the corner of the room, the detective, who is on the verge of vomiting up his insides. The man beside you, Aizawa, who refuses to look at you. The one standing in front of you, Nezu, who is blackmailing you, but is also offering you free shelter and free food...

You huff, grabbing Nezu's paw and shaking it wildly. "It's a deal, then."

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punkassfrance · 1 year

Text

Some NSFW Hcs for Joel

Finals are over and I want to write SOMETHING before I go to bed so enjoy (Tess hcs may be on the way)

Also this (like many of my headcanons) exists in a total vacuum- this is just one possibility of many and I will explore them all with love. I will post conflicting hcs with no hesitation depending on whatever the brain worms are whispering to me at the moment. (I'm calling this headcanons, in reality it's just a disjointed string of horny thoughts I'm sending into the ether.)

Drop some hc requests (for Joel, or Tess, or both) in my inbox if you want! Usually happy to oblige.

CW- NSFW (of course,) AFAB kind of implied, x reader, touch starvation (sortakinda)

He's more passionate about sex than you've ever seen him about anything.

He'll pull the "frail old man" act until it's time to actually get down to business.

"I'm too old for this, you're gonna give me a heart attack darlin" right up until he gets to touch you, then something snaps.

He'll spend hours learning how to fuck you right, exploring every erogenous zone in every way he can think to figure out what you like best.

Much more willing to kiss you than you'd predicted.

He's rough and eager, not at all the cool, gruff man you thought you were seducing.

Rough and eager is an understatement.

He's barely even domesticated, to be honest. You've never seen a grown man act so much like a feral animal.

Biting, growling, scratching, doesn't care at all who could hear.

There's no "can you be quiet for me, baby?"

He's way too busy not being able to shut the fuck up to try and keep you quiet

Way chattier than you would have thought, constantly praising you and muttering whatever comes to mind.

In months of knowing him, you haven't seen him smile nearly this many times

He adores any position that keeps you pressed together.

Missionary, mating press, he'll even lean his chest on your back during doggy just to be close to you.

He's probably a little more touch starved than he'll ever admit.

He's just so fucking psyched to get to touch you and experience any physical comfort in such a hellish world, why would he try to play a tough guy now?

He's been wanting and admiring for weeks, and your skin is too damn soft to play it cool.

He's looking at you like you're a deity.

Maybe if he hadn't been fighting for his life for the last twenty years he wouldn't be acting like such a teenager.

Make no mistake though, he's a very generous lover. That excitement for getting to touch and fuck you 100% extends to giving oral. You've never seen a man so enthusiastic to go down on you.

Enthusiastic is honestly a good word for the whole experience. You really walked into this expecting to be doing all the work, he seems like that kind of guy.

Nope.

He's stoked.

You would tell your (close) friends how different he is in bed if you weren't too busy describing the best lay of your life.

He definitely came first, and he definitely needed a second to recover, but you didn't need to say a word to get his face back between your legs.

Has zero reservations about making a fucking mess. You think you saw some fluid on his nose by the time he was done and he didn't bat an eye.

He's not quite so lovestruck afterward, but he's definitely not back to Joel Miller, the Badass Terror of the Town yet.

Almost no pillow talk unless you lay there for a few hours- he's exhausted and elated and probably a little embarrassed (even if he won't admit it.)

Still, way more willing to cuddle than you would have thought. Not at all the type of asshole to kick you out of bed.

Hope you enjoyed the horny thoughts that kept me awake!

#joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller #headcanons #x reader #pedro pascal #tlou joel #the last of us #joel/reader #joel miller x gender neutral reader

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always-andromeda · 2 years

Text

Trick or Treat || Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

Word Count || 2,336

Summary || When Edward tells you that he never went trick or treating as a child, you take the chance to help him heal his inner child.

Author’s Note || happy riddler: year one release day!! today we celebrate with our favorite little serial killer and terrorist!! this fic kicks off my next week of Halloween content and I hope y'all are excited!! I can't wait for you all to see what's to come!! Also, I apologize in advance for my obvious love for the Halloween franchise in this fic, I love all of the movies even though almost all of them are actually so terrible <3

Warnings || spoilers for Halloween (1978) and Halloween II (1981), some heated kissing, Edward and his Tragic Past™, sliiiiight mask kink if you squint, nothing else I can think of!!

"Remember, Eddie, it's Halloween. Everyone's entitled to one good scare." You tease with a light tickle to Edward's side. He squirms away from you in response.

Edward proposes uncertainly, "Isn't Halloween supposed to be for kids?"

The grimace he throws at the packaged costume on the shelf before you makes you chuckle. "Do you not understand the reference?"

"The reference?" He spares one more look to the folded boiler suit and the mask. He doesn't see it through the plastic, but the paper label says there's a plastic knife inside to complete the ensemble. How people fantasize about being such a character, Edward doesn't know.

You say, "The quote? Everyone's entitled to one good scare."

Edward turns back to you. "That's a reference?"

Your expression is aghast, eyes wide and mouth already open and ready to protest, "You're telling me you haven't seen one of the most classic slasher films of all time?"

Edward rolls his eyes and mutters, "There's plenty of things that I haven't seen."

You guess that he's probably telling you the truth based on the directness of his words. But you can never be quite sure. Edward isn't always the most forthcoming with his life experiences. You figured it out the hard way when you brought up your parents during a date. It was only natural. Everybody has parents, right?

Apparently not. Of course the tall and adorable nerd from accounting you had begun dating just happened to be an orphan. And of course he was so nervous to mention it that you’d gushed all about your parents and your childhood dozens of times before he said something. You’d asked him what type of toys his parents had gotten him when he was little and he hesitantly muttered that he hadn’t had any of either in the first place. The conversation promptly sunk like a rock to the bottom of your stomach. How you hadn’t noticed his blank stare every time you talked about your childhood, you didn’t know.

His childhood often provided for some...interesting conversations. Especially over the holidays. The orphanage didn't have the money nor the desire to treat the children under their care to something other than the constant poverty and paucity that plagued their lives.

While you got to shop for a brand new Halloween costume every year, Edward had stayed in the repurposed Wayne manor, looking out over the city. With every year it passed, the building and the children were more and more neglected. Gotham was just as dangerous during Halloween; possibly even more so. But deep down inside he knew that the children outside had to be having fun in some way.

For some reason, life decided that children like Edward Nashton didn't need candies wrapped in colored cellophane and fun costumes. Halloween was something that he hadn't ever been able to properly revel in. Tricks weren't nearly as fun when there was never a promise of a treat. Life had already played a horror movie for Edward to live. To find joy in the holiday seemed to be a privilege to one and he tries not to hold it against you.

You whine, "Oh, c'mon, you can't just play along? At least for my sake?" Edward offers little more response aside from another eye roll at your theatrics. He doesn't expect any less coming from you.

Pretending to be someone else didn't seem all that appealing. Maybe pretending to not be Edward Nashton would help him feel a little more comforted, at least until the autumn chill crept in through the poorly insulated walls and made him wish that it was summer. It made him wish that the rot inside would take over and consume him entirely. It made him more conscious of the simple fact that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be Edward Nashton, the wishy washy forensic accountant who was practically invisible.

Well, invisible to everyone except you, for some reason. Why you insist upon sharing these traditions of yours with him, he'll never know. The rudimentary animatronics that jump out at him every time he steps on a button make him want to snort more than anything else. He would admit though that he quite liked some of the masks. Though he had no clue what movies they referenced, he gathered that they were villains. Only villains covered their faces like that and wore oversized cloaks or boiler suits. Only the villains kept in the dark; kept themselves masked and too afraid to confess to the world their sins.

As he stares into the dark voids of the eyeholes in the plastic mask in the package, he nudges you with his shoulder. "I'll play along," he starts quietly, "Tell me about this movie of yours."

Your eyes light up immediately. "Really? You don't care about spoilers?"

"I don't think so." he chuckles, "Besides, if I'm going to be wearing this thing for Halloween...I think I'll have to know what the guy does. "

As you continue to wander up and down the aisles of the Halloween store, Edward listens intently as you describe the tale of Michael Myers. A child who who murders his sister then spends fifteen years in a sanitarium, only to break out and finish the job with his secret sister and all of her teenage friends. Edward is sure that he's seen the events play out the same way in about a dozen different slasher movies before. He holds back the urge to scoff at all the cheesy tropes; a couple that has sex and is subsequently brutally murdered, a jammed doorknob, cut phone lines, and a helpless babysitter. However, there is one bit that Edward gets.

"So...this Michael Myers...why does he kill everyone?"

"He's out to get his family and Laurie is his sister. He's there to clean house."

"No, no, no, I get that. But why everyone else? Why her friends and everyone else at the hospital? Why does he even have to murder his family? What's his motive?"

That question is more important to him than anything. What's the point in anything if there isn't a why? There must be a reason for violence. A focus. Some sort of angle to make the ends justify the means.

You stop dead on your feet in the aisle and slowly turn on your heel, tilting your head when you finally face him. The move confuses him until you raise your hands conspiratorially.

"That's the thing, Eddie. He almost doesn't even have a motive. He doesn't understand right from wrong or good from bad. All he knows is evil. That's it. And that motivation is what keeps him going every single time he's put out of commission."

Edward raises an eyebrow and asks monotonously, "Evil keeps him from dying?"

"Exactly! Because at the end of the day...Michael always finds a way to come home."

Though he's sure an antagonist from a 70s horror film wasn't meant to be analyzed outside the simple parameters of shock value and blood just for the sake of blood, something about that idea intrigues Eddie. He is dormant. Lying in wait. Counting down the days until the next opportunity; the next Halloween. Now that thought--more than heavy breathing on the other end of a phone--sends a shiver down his spine.

But this Halloween...this one isn't home for thoughts of vengeance and appeasing the intrusive voices that tell him he should hate the world. This Halloween is just for you and him. And the home he will now always yearn to come back to is this; you and him on the couch of his apartment, candy wrappers scattered about.

Even during the best of times, Edward isn't a fan of sweets. As he'd gotten older, the craving for them had simply faded. But this is one of those nights where he's willing to indulge. The blended aftertaste of caramel, nougat, peanuts, and chocolate makes his throat ache with richness. He pats his protruding belly, feeling like a child who's been allowed to have their bucket of candy for dinner.

If this is what Halloween had been for you during your childhood, he understands why you enjoy it. There's a sort of control and escapism in constructing your own fear and soothing it with a nostalgic film and sugary treats by the warmth of a lit fireplace. He can almost forget the real pain that lingers just below the surface of his skin. At the very least, he can quiet it down just enough to where he can let himself feel normal. He's a normal man with a normal childhood and this is a normal Halloween. And there's you, his actually normal partner rested on his chest and spreading the lazy haze that overtakes his senses.

The polyester boiler suit feels smooth against his skin, nothing like what he guesses the real thing is like as he watches Michael Myers on the television screen in front of the couch. Right at that moment, Michael kills the truck driver whom he eventually takes the jumpsuit from. For some reason, he has to admire the resourcefulness.

You look up at his face, transfixed on the screen, and giggle. "Are you getting scared yet, Eddie?"

His attention broken from the movie, Edward spares a small glance at you before grabbing the iconic mask he had tucked between his thigh and the couch and taking off his glasses. With a little bit of an awkward struggle to stretch the rubber over his round face--which only makes you laugh more--Edward finally gets the iconic mask of Michael himself on. He looks to you once more. The stoically molded expression of the mask stares back almost blankly.

Voice deep and unsettlingly even, Edward asks you this time, "Are you getting scared yet?" To add to the drama of the whole act, he begins to breathe heavily. So heavy that you're sure the inside of that mask is quickly heating up. Probably making his skin flush and form a thin layer of sweat. And what begins as stone cold fear in your core slowly warms as you remember that your chubby cheeked and kind eyed Edward is underneath there. And no mask can completely kill the comfort you feel with him.

"Well, lucky for you, I'm actually into that." you cup the cheeks of the mask and press a small kiss to the lips. Behind the rubber, you can practically feel him scowl.

Edward says incredulously, "You're into this?" Based on his inflection alone, you know he's skeptical and a slight bit horrified. It's a skepticism that you plan to completely smother.

You give a little pout, peer through the dark eyeholes, and answer, "Well, actually there's one thing I'm not into about this." You reach for the edge of the mask at his neck and pull it back over his head. Lacing your fingers through his real hair, now slightly damp and disheveled, his face looks just as red as you imagined. His brows turned, he waits for some sort of explanation as you admire his soft features. Maybe his normal partner isn't quite as normal as he expected of them.

Brushing a bit of his hair off of his forehead, you assert, "If you're going to get into wearing these, you should really get one where I can see your eyes better. I like seeing them."

Eddie rarely believes in the world telling him the truth in such stark terms. Even the grandest gestures could always be a lie. But your fingertips stroking his bare cheek and your body pressed against his in a way that tells him that you need him...that can't be faked. You'd have to be completely insane to look at him with such reverence and mean none of it. And he decides that with the safety you surround him with as proof, you're being honest. You'd never trick him. Despite the half full bag of store-bought candies that now lays discarded on the floor and his full stomach, he concludes that you're his favorite treat during this conflicting season. You're saccharine and filling but you never make him feel sick and full of regret.

This time, he kisses you. Hungry and feral, he displays a confidence you don't see in him often when his hands run up the back of your thighs and pull him up onto his lap.

You feel his teeth graze your lips and your skin flutters. "B-but what about...the movie...don't you want to...finish it?" you manage to utter between every fervid kiss that Edward lays on you.

He pulls back just long enough to give you a fond look, similar to how you'd been observing him. There's something a little deeper to it though, something possessive in how his grip on you tightens. It makes your breath catch in a tight pocket of your throat.

He finally replies, "You already told me all about how it ends. The killer gets away. I don't think I need to hear it twice." Before you can let yourself get embarrassed for spoiling the entire movie for him earlier on in the day, Edward goes in for the kill, inflicting a ravenous kiss on your neck that succeeds in making you breath once more; puncturing the pocket your air supply had been trapped in and driving you just as wild as he needs you to be for him now. He engulfs you in his arms and makes you simply bleed with a want for more of him.

It doesn't unsettle Edward; being dressed like a serial killer, that is. There were worse creatures that he'd seen in Gotham. For now, though, he can pretend that tonight is forever. You are his haunted house; the keeper of his hopes and dreams and desires and all his brokenness. You are the window that he looks through and sees himself in. Only in this reflection, he's home and he doesn't need bloodshed to get there.

#danonation #paul dano #danocel #the batman #the batman 2022 #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #edward nashton x y/n #dano!riddler #dano!riddler x reader #dano!riddler x you #dano!riddler x y/n #˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

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Hello, Ro!!! 🌻🌻🌻

Okay so I suddenly notice my hair is long enough to nearly my waist

so can I have a fluff one that reader is not aware of her hair became long, she only notice the dryer time became longer🤣🤣🤣

And Steve notices, he choose some beautiful hair tie and learn how to braid hair from Thor, and maybe Tony host a party, and Steve volunteers to braid her hair and she suddenly noticed her hair been so long.

Hehe need some fluff and sweet from this site became too... ppl step into other's territory and say stuff rude. I am tired of this😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Anyway, wish you have a good dayy friend!!

Yeah, I wasn't on for the toxic sh*t that went down yesterday, but I had the privilege of my husband (yes, that guy) shoving that news in my face. I know he did it to provoke me, but not because of the actual news. It was to accentuate quite a few terrible things that don't have to do with what I truly hope is a happy couple.

So let's have some happy couple fluff, shall we?

"It's not even dry yet."

"Ok, then I gotta start getting ready right after work."

"Why do these ties keep breaking? Is the elastic old? What the hell?!"

Your face smacks the pillow, and Steve can see but you can't...apparently.

Your hair covers your shoulders like a blanket, gets trapped when you go to turn over, encircles the column of your neck like a lacy choker, and you haven't figured it out.

Sure, he doesn't understand what you mean by 'crispy ends' or 'arm fatigue' when you're standing in the bathroom, open-legged and practically panting from the effort to do your hair for the night, but he hears the huffs and the sighs. He can understand feeling like losing a battle with your body when you're trying your best. He remembers that.

So one day, he's caught staring at Thor's hair, and that doesn't go unnoticed.

"Sorry, my dear captain, but two beefy blond alphas would not make a good pairing. I am flattered though."

Steve snaps back. "What? No. It's just...your hair, the--" he wiggles his hand by his head "--things."

Thor pulls a strand forward. "Braids?"

"Yeah, those. How do you do that?"

Thor quizzically regards the short crop atop Steve's head and frowns. "I do not believe--"

"Not for me," Steve corrects, "for my girl."

The beefier (is he though?) man lights up with understanding. "Ah, yes, I see. Of course." He then pulls Steve into a side hug and leans in to whisper. "I warn you though. This will be a different challenge than you are accustomed to. It will require patience and much practice."

Steve blanches. How bad can this be? Is braiding harder than sex? Good lord, what has he gotten himself into?

"DAMN IT," you grouch in the bathroom.

"Honey...?" Steve peeks around the doorframe. "Everything alright?"

"No. No, it is not," you whine, sitting on the toilet and burying your face in your hands, a curtain of hair blocking what little light could shine through your fingers. "My hair is too dirty, I don't have time to do it before we need to meet Bucky and Nat downstairs, and I just broke my last hair tie!"

You're on the verge of tears. The last thing you wanted was to bother Steve with this.

"I can help."

You almost laugh. What the hell is he gonna do? Tuck it up under a cowl?

"Come on," he offers, a hand sliding under your elbow, "come sit on the edge of the bed and take a minute."

But with each second that passes you are more and more aware of how the crown of your head will still be damp if you don't start soon, or how your neckline will curl onto itself when it's not properly set and leave an annoying crimp. You barely notice Steve's fingers in your hair.

He's comforting you. That's nice. He does love running his fingers through it, and he's probably trying to prove the point that if it's good enough for him, it's fine to go out with. That's not the point. You want to look good, but a prominent feature on you is unruly and feeling more and more out of control.

His fingers continue gliding through your hair at your temples. Well, no, just one temple.

Then you feel a very delicate tugging instead of his fingers at your scalp.

Then the tugging repeats methodically.

"What are you doing?" You turn to see.

Steve blushes, already down past your shoulder so you can see the braid weaving in his hands.

You look up into his eyes, repeating your question silently.

He shrugs. He simply shrugs.

"I wanted to take care of you," he finally says, and it's at that moment you notice he is still going on that one braid. He's been twisting strand over strand this whole time, sitting with his leg bent on the bed between you, and he doesn't have to lean forward anymore.

It's so damn long.

That's it. That's the moment. When was the last time you got it cut? You can't even remember. There's been so much going on, and you're lucky you've been drinking water much less scheduling outside appointments for personal care.

"I love it, you know," Steve mutters as he pulls out a tiny string of leather, deftly affixing it to the end of the braid, and starting a new one just above it. "I love it every single day. Long or short. Washed or unwashed."

He pointedly smirks and leans forward to kiss that closest temple.

"And if I love it that much, I should help you love it, too."

When he's done with the second one, he pulls out another leather tie.

"Thor?"

Steve nods and then stands. Before he sits on the other side of you though, he rummages through his side of the closet to produce a Target bag, sheepishly handing it over.

"I bought you some things, too, but those were all he taught me with."

Inside the bag is clips and elastics, big and small. Headbands. Scrunchies. Two head scarves. Bobby pins with decorations and plain ones the color of your hair. It's quite the stash.

You see the receipt at the bottom, probably kept to return anything you don't like. "Steve, how much did this all--"

He snatches the paper out of your hand. "NOTHING," he shrieks a little too loudly.

And now you really have to laugh. Yes, Steve has an artistic side. Yes, he likes all his variety of pencils and charcoals.

But this?

He can't use this skill on anything but you.

He spent time learning and shopping for only you.

You sniffle at the end of a relieving belly laugh, sighing one more time but in pure contentment.

"Ok, coiffure," you announce, angling yourself away to present your loose locks. "Better finish up."

He sits down happily, keeping the bag open for you to choose from.

"Stick with the leather--" you shrug "--I have some boots to match."

There you have it, Notoriously Lovely Nana! I hope you enjoyed it, and I'm rooting for us all to have more positivity today and beyond.

Thank you for trusting me with the feels.

🥰

#ro answers #notorious nana #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve x reader

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scribespirare · 10 months

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if you still do requests for House… something Hilson with Wilson’s possessive streak popping up, maybe in public?

oh man i haven't done hilson in a while thank u for requesting them!! hopefully im not too rusty w/ them

“Do you know every waitress in the city?”

House glances up from the menu in front of him, and then back at the retreating figure of their waitress. Sarah, apparently, though he’s always known her as Caramel. She looks a lot different with so much clothing on and no heels.

“Only the ones who moonlight as strippers,” House replies. The look Wilson gives him is unamused at best and House raises an eyebrow at him. “What, it’s not my fault we happen to pick restaurants where my favorites work.”

Turning back to his menu, House ignores Wilson’s stony silence. Honestly, the man gets his panties in such a twist sometimes and not even for a good reason. Caramel barely even recognized him; House is sure he looks a lot different too when not cast in low lighting and considerably drunk. And just because two other waitresses have recognized him in the past month, and he them, doesn’t mean anything.

Caramel, sorry Sarah, comes back a few minutes later for their orders. Wilson’s is clipped and terse, about as rude as he ever manages to be to staff. House’s is friendlier and is followed by a question about how Sarah is doing. She immediately brightens up and launches into a story about how the medical advice he’d given her one night (he can’t remember it but even black out he knows his shit) had helped her pass a class for her nursing degree.

House is just about to remind her that she’s got a job to do actually when Wilson, smiling pleasantly, says, “I’m sorry, something has come up, you can cancel that order.” Then he stands, grabs House by the arm, and very clearly indicates that they should leave.

“Oh,” says a surprised Sarah. “Sure. I’ll see you later I guess?”

“You won’t,” Wilson says with confidence.

And House…well it’s not like Wilson could drag him out of here by force. House could very easily refuse to play this little game of jealousy if he wanted to. But he’s also intrigued and so grabs his cane and stands. Instead of being hauled away immediately like he’s expecting, Wilson instead grabs House by the collar and brings him in for a kiss. More than a peck, but not quite long enough for House to get his bearings and make a show of it, purely to taunt Wilson with later.

With that little public display accomplished, Wilson does indeed tug House out of the restaurant, House giving a little wave to a flustered Sarah as they go.

They pause outside, the air cold enough to fog their breaths, to pull on jackets that were thrown over arms in their haste.

“You’re ridiculous,” House says, shifting his cane from one hand to the other.

“I know,” is Wilson’s clipped response.

“And also you owe me dinner.”

“I know.”

“Did I say you were ridiculous? Because you are. Who the hell gets jealous over a stripper?”

“I do, apparently,” Wilson grinds out. “Especially when they’re flirting with you right in front of me.”

“There was not nearly enough cleavage present for that to be considered flirting,” House says with gravitas. Then, because he’s a dick, “You should give me another kiss, I think she’s still watching.”

It’s meant as a joke but Wilson rounds on him, grabs his face in two hands, and kisses him soundly. This time it’s a real kiss, and it drags on and on until House can’t remember why he’d suggested it in the first place, or even that he’d only suggested it in jest. Christ, but Wilson can kiss.

When they finally part House has to take a moment to regather his thoughts. Wilson looks rather smug about it too, the jealous dick.

“You still owe me dinner,” House says the moment his thoughts clear. Wilson’s smug look fades and is followed by an eye roll.

“I’ll buy you McDonald’s. Get in the damn car.”

#asks #requests #hilson #house md

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