#i just love their relationship your honor

[fangirl-dot-com]

🧡❤️Dating Your Enemy's Sibling

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: How to get under your enemy/rival's skin? Charles answer was to start dating his younger sister. But now, he's glad he found love along the way. He only had to tell Max about the relationship when you won a race. That's won't be any time soon though . . . right?

*in honor of Lando's first win - here's this next installment of Reverse Tropes! I know that Max and Charles really aren't enemies. Maybe I should have done like a Pierre and Esteban thing, but I don't write for them. So here we go and please enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen. 

Predestined rivals, written in the stars, invisible string, yada-yada-yada. 

Putting it simply, Charles had an apt for pissing Max off and vice-versa. The world thought they would kill each other in karting, especially after the 2012 incident. The population sighed in relief when Max was taken from F3 and put in a Formula 1 car, while Charles took a bit longer. 

And then Charles made it to Formula 1 in 2018. However, he was put in a HAAS, a car that was not really made to play with the other cars in the front of the pack. The earth was saved yet another year. 

Well, until 2019 when Charles suddenly became the “It Boy” for the Prancing Horse. Meaning, that he could finally go back to terrorizing the grid and Max. But with terrorizing the grid came loads of trouble and hatred. 

And more pissing off your rival. 

Charles seethed on the podium as he listened to the Dutch national anthem and watched Max point to the stupid “H” on his race suit. He held in a scoff. At least the Ferrari logo was much better looking than that. 

It wasn’t fair. He had the racing line and Max pushed him off. If his mind wandered, it would go back to a certain kart race back in 2012 where he pulled the same move. But that didn’t count because the race has already finished. Charles would have rather been disqualified instead of having to go through the torture of being up on the podium in second. 

First loser as they call it. 

The Monegasque driver held no happiness in his body as Max started spraying his winner’s champagne. Charles just picked up his bottle and drank it. 

Still wasn’t as sweet as victory champagne would be. 

He deliberately separated himself from Max as they stood for a picture. The visible gap made it much more hilarious for everyone around them. 

When the festivities finished, he hightailed it out of there, just wanting to avoid the Dutchman presence. Charles sighed loudly as he walked back to the garage, definitely not in the mood to talk to anyone. 

“Charlie!

The Monegasque stopped in his tracks, annoyance almost wracking his entire being. Can people just let him wallow in defeat? He straightened his shoulders and turned around, PR smile plastered on his face. However, the very fake smile turned into a real one when he noticed that you were almost jogging to catch up with him. 

Y/n Verstappen. 

You had always been a part of his childhood. Where Max was, you were one step behind him, following him in your small racing overalls. He remembered how little you always seemed compared to your brother. But size didn’t matter on the karting course. 

Most of the time, the two boys found themselves trying to shake you off and others were behind your kart, picking up the dirt that you sent their way. And that’s why Charles put your name down as recommendations for his Prema seat after he won the championship in 2017. Because of him, you were able to graduate to Formula 2 and were on the track to make a debut in Formula 1 in the coming years. 

“Hey Y/n,” Charles said softly, still not in the mood to really talk to anyone. But for you, he’d always make an exception. And he was supposed to fly back with you and Max, something he was still dreading. 

You look at the Monegasque with sympathy. Charles wasn’t able to find any type of pity in your blue eyes (that matched Max’s). 

Your brows furrowed as to talked to him. “What Max did wasn’t the right way to race. But Formula 1 is getting more and more competitive.” 

The man, er boy, wanted to huff. He did not need this conversation from you. He almost turned around, but the next few sentences stopped him from making any motions. 

“Charlie, you’ve always found ways to beat him. If he wants to play like this, then you just have to give him a taste of his medicine, get under his skin. Do what you always do and somehow get around him.” 

He cocked his head, before his eyes lit up. 

Get under his skin.

You watched as Charles’s eyes filled up with some light, making the green in them really shine. You could almost see ideas concocting in his head.

Charles went to say something, but was interrupted by his team principle. He swerved to respond before he turned back to you. There was a glint in his eyes that you really couldn’t put a finger on. 

His took a deep breath before asking, “Do you want to maybe get dinner with me?” 

Your eyes widened. Sure, the Monegasque was very attractive, but those were not the words that you were expecting to come out of his mouth. 

Oh. 

Now you got it. 

Your facial expressions melted a bit, eyes pointed toward the ground as you kicked at it. Your arms crossed as you huffed. 

“Using me for gain over my brother wasn’t what I was meaning Charles. I was thinking more like unfollow him on social media while we’re on the plane or something.” 

The harsh “Ch” that began his name had him wincing. Like your brother, you had a small lisp which normally softened the two consonants to the point where his name sounded like it was supposed to be. And what was “Charles?” You rarely ever called him that, choosing to pick the more boyish nickname. 

Although, your idea about Instagram wasn’t a bad one. 

Charles looked a bit guilty as he scratched the back of his head. He honestly was endeared by you and your determination to never give up. He found you, well, cute. You were still 19, younger than him by a bit more than three years. 

But if you were cute back in 2012 hanging on to Max’s wet overalls after the puddle, and you were cute now trying to console him instead of celebrating your brother’s victory, you would still be cute in the following years. 

He sighed, knowing that he had to leave soon or he was going to get an earful from Sebastian for being late to yet another meeting. The Ferrari driver stepped forward a bit, getting closer to you. He looked down at his helmet before looking back to your eyes. 

“When I win and when I beat your brother, then can I take you out to dinner?” 

You mulled over the question in your head. 

If he beat Max before you went out with him, then that meant that he was actually genuine and wasn’t using it to his gain. You also smirked, knowing that indeed it would piss Max off whenever he found out. Your position as an annoying younger sister would still be intact and possibly stronger. 

You held out your hand, which Charles took in an instant. 

“Deal Leclerc.” 

“Deal Verstappen.” 

When Charles took the top step in Spa, pride filled his chest when he noticed Max’s glare at him. He had beaten the Dutchman at his home race. Albeit, it was a DNF for Max, but a win either way.  He swayed back and forth as his national anthem played and then sang quietly along with the Italian anthem. Deep in his heart, he knew the true weight of the win. 

For Anthoine. 

He knew somewhere he made his French friend proud. Just like Jules. And Just like Papa.

Charles watched down below as you looked like you could hardly keep a smirk off your face. And it was bad too as you stood next to Max, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there below Charles. 

The Monegasque raised his eyebrows when you locked eyes. You just hoped that Max wouldn’t catch on that he was staring right at you. Thankfully, you were right next to a Ferrari manager, so Max could guess that Charles was looking at him. 

When the winner finally got ready, you were waiting outside his garage. 

“Hi,” you whispered, putting your phone away. Charles didn’t verbally respond, but he wrapped his arms around you. You melted in his arms, still smelling a bit of the champagne in his hair. 

He looked down at you. 

“Are you ready for dinner?” 

Your eyes held a playful glint. “I hope you chose a good restaurant Leclerc.” 

He scoffed, keeping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you turned to leave. “Only the best Verstappen.” 

The dinner went really well, but you weren’t expecting it to be a continual thing. 

And then Charles won in Monza the next week, and he once again asked you to dinner. And once again, the Monegasque set expectations higher than you every imagined. You were saddened when Charles wasn’t able to win any more races while your brother seemed to get better and better each race. 

You could only giggle while you watched them still avoid each other in Singapore. 

But, the dinners turned into texting, and texting turned to other dates, and dates turned into dating, and dating turned into a relationship, and the relationship turned into an almost five year commitment that you or Charles weren’t planning to end soon. 

The relationship saw your brother become a world champion in 2021, Charles becoming a world champion in 2022, and you joining the grid as a rookie for McLaren after a disastrous attempt for an Alpine seat.

Charles had been furious and Max had almost found out about the relationship. The two of you were still scared that Max might hold some coldness for the past. But when he called Charles “Charlie,” the special nickname that you had for him, you thought that it might be a good idea to tell him. 

“But mon ange, he will run me off the track if he finds out,” Charles whined into your stomach as you played with his hair before the Miami Grand Prix. 

You rolled your eyes and tugged at the strands. “No he won’t. You have to worry about your teammate doing that to you instead.” 

Another whine left Charles making you giggle. 

“At least you’re starting on the front row. I have to start P5! Oscar has been making fun of me all weekend.” 

The Aussie had been such a God send for you during your rookie season. The elder by a few months had taken you under his wing. The two of you had been so close to a win last year, and with the upgrades this weekend, you were sure that you or him would start on the front row. 

And then you had to be hit during the sprint, which didn’t help the mechanics in the hours before the race quali. That in turn made your car feel weird and P5 was the best you could do. Maybe Charles was secretly transferring his unluckiness into you. 

The Monegasque turned his head to look you in the eyes. You smiled as you leaned down to kiss the top of his head. 

“We’ll tell him when I win a race. How about that?” 

Charles knew that you were just unlucky as he was when it came to winning a race. Last year,  you had been close in Spa, but a rouge rainstorm saw you spinning out on the second to last lap. Austin you had pole, but Max fought you on into turn one, making you go wide. You never saw your brother after the first lap as you fell down the grid. Charles held you each night as you cried. 

The red-clad-driver sat up and held your head in his hands. “You’ll win soon enough. Maybe not this weekend because I don’t have any time to prepare.” 

You laughed and just brought him in to a kiss. There was literally no way you could win this weekend. Beating Max Verstappen with pole from P5 on a track that he had a 100% win rate at? 

Impossible.

Charles thought he was going to cry as he crossed the line in P3. From you winning or having to tell your bother that he defiled his baby sister, he didn’t know. 

What he did know was that he was going to get out of his car and congratulate you immediately. What were the odds that you won on the anniversary of the stupid inchident, the first time that Charles had ever seen you with Max. 

(And yes, he did remember the anniversary but didn’t want to bring it up.) 

You, however, were frozen in your car. You took some deep breaths as you took the steering wheel off, stood up a bit, bent to put it back on, and straightened, holding your pointer finger up. Your fists clenched as you raised them, automatically hearing the crowds roar when you waved. 

A tug on your sleeve brought you down into Max’s arms. You were a bit disappointed that it wasn’t Charles, but that would be too obvious. 

“YOU DID IT!” Max yelled in your ear, well, your helmet as you hadn’t taken the neon thing off yet. 

You really didn’t want people to see the tear stains on your face. But right now, you’d just stay in the protection of your brother’s arms. When he let go of you, he lifted your visor, twin eyes meeting yours. 

“You did such an amaz-”

“I’m dating Charles.” 

Blink. 

Blink. 

Blink. 

You took the moment of a frozen Max to turn to your team. You looked over your shoulder to see that the Dutchman was still stuck in his place as you got farther and farther away. You grimaced, knowing what was to come if Max and Charles met at any time when you weren’t there. 

An arm around your shoulders brought you out of your head. The light blue caught your eyes, signaling that it was Charles. He patted your shoulders, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible. You did feel a bit of pressure move your helmet, so he must have quickly smushed his face into the black swirls. A helmet kiss if you would guess. 

You wanted to turn around to warn him of the imminent danger that was waiting for him in the form of Max Verstappen, but you were led away before you could. 

Your fears immediately went away though when your eyes finally landed on your team. Helmet thrown to the ground, you made the decision to throw yourself at them as well. Your laughs could be heard as your mechanics lifted you higher as everyone seemed to want to congratulate you for their first win since Monza 2021, which you weren’t even on the team then. 

When Charles stepped into the cooldown room, he could feel the awkwardness. It also didn’t help that Max was glaring at him from the corner. Charles was a bit worried. He thought that Max was fine with him now after they had both sort of mended their weird friendship during 2023. 

He turned to you as you walked in, all sweaty. 

Charles still thought you looked very pretty. 

“Eyes off Leclerc.” 

Charles froze in his place and looked between the siblings. He looked at you, then Max, then you, and then Max again. You winced, not looking him in the eyes. Realization flooded his body and he thought for a moment he was going to pass out.  

“Mon Dieu.” 

“We will be talking after this,” Max pointed, drinking from his water bottle, not taking his eyes off Charles. 

When you were called to the little Jeeps, you quickly got into the bright pink Barbie-esque looking one, still buzzing from your win. Even if the two men behind you had put a damper on it. 

Charles’s eyes only fixed on one of the cars, not even seeing the third one behind the second. He climbed right in, eyes closed as he sat down. However, his eyes shot open when the car tilted and a thigh was touching his. He gulped rather loudly, refusing to look to his right. 

This was Vegas all over again. 

Max kept his voice low. “When did it start?” 

“2019. After Austria.” 

“Why?” 

“I wanted to get to know her more.” 

“What was the reason Charles?” 

The Monegasque sighed as he ran his hand over his face. “I was angry at you and wanted to get back at you somehow.” 

He knew he was about to be punched on live television, but he continued hoping for redemption. 

“But, I knew that was wrong. We didn’t even go out until Spa. And then again in Monza. And then it just happened.” 

He turned to look directly at Max, knowing that he only had a few more moments before they had to go out onto the podium. 

“Max I love your sister. I have the ring and everything. We’ve been happy for 5 years and have made it work. Please, she’s really all the good I have left. I would throw everything away for her. And-”

Max’s laughs stopped him from continuing. The Dutchman slapped a hand on Charles’s thigh, making him wince a bit. 

The Red Bull driver’s eyes were crinkled with a smile as they pulled up to the parking spot. 

“Just keep her happy, or I will run you off the track.” 

“Y/n! I told you he’d threaten me!” 

“Max!” 

“Oh come on I did not!” 

y/nverstappen4 has posted

y/nverstappen4 WE DID IT! P1 BABAYYYYYYY 🏆

nothing beats a podium with me on the top step surrounded by my boys 💙🧡❤️

liked by mclaren, team_quadrant, charles_leclerc, and 2,903,940 others

queeny/n LETS ACTUALLY GOOOOOOOOO

mclaren that's our girl 🧡 well deserved

lecstappenshipper this is basically a hard launch

y/nhaswins such a beautiful race y/n!!!!

charles_leclerc so so proud of you mon ange 🧡❤️ *liked by y/nverstappen4*

charles_leclerc celebrations tonight? 😈

y/nverstappen4 but of course

maxverstappen1 I know where you sleep leclerc 🙂

y/nverstappen4 DRINKS ON MAX TONIGHT

oscarpiastri YEAAHHHHHHH 🍾

maxverstappen1 what?

charles_leclerc thank you max ☺️

maxverstappen1 I NEVER AGREED TO THIS

oscarpiastri mega job mate 👊

y/nverstappen4 ossieeeeeee 👊 don't worry, you'll be up there soon! just gotta wrap your car in bubble wrap to protect it from evil ferrari 😠😤

charles_leclerc ☹️

y/nverstappen4 NOT YOU CHARLIE - THE OTHER ONE (LEWIS HURRY UP)

lewishamilton you don't think I'm trying 🤨

mcy/n she's so funny what the heck?? 😂

chefy/n we said - LET HER COOK

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #Charles Leclerc x driver reader #Charles Leclerc x verstappen!reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x you #Charles Leclerc #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one smau #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic

[lewisvinga]

forever | yuki tsunoda x fem! reader

summary; yuki finally reveals his relationship with japans top figure skater. everyone assumes that it’s a fairly recent relationship until a certain detail is revealed

fc; rika kihira

warnings; google translated japanese

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3

note; requested !

masterlist !

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liked by yukitsunoda0511, pierregasly, and others !

yourusername: (๑>◡<๑) ♡

tagged; yukitsunoda0511

yukitsunoda0511: 🤍🤍 liked by yourusername !

username: omg not y/n FINALLYYY posting yuki 😭😭

username: they’re still w the new relationship vibes i adore them pls ur honor !!

username: he’s so bf y/n u lucky woman

pierregasly: stay away from my yuki!

yourusername: stay away from my kika!

username: 😭

username: my new fave relationship 💞

username: y/n and yuki both being japanese is soooo cute is sooo cute to me

username: MY LOVES THEY’RE SO CUTE😖😖😖😖

username: the new couple honeymoon phase and love them ur honor pls 😞😞

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liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and others !

yukitsunoda0511: forever grateful we were put in the same kindergarten class many years ago. forever grateful to be your boyfriend. happy 4 year anniversary, my y/n. 愛してます❤️ [i love you]

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: awwwww yuki☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

yourusername: happy 4 years!! i love youu(´ ε ` )♡

yukitsunoda0511: to forever ❤️❤️❤️❤️

pierregasly: simp

francisca.cgomes: oh shut up, pierre! let them celebrate their anniversary in peace 🙄🙄🙄🙄

yukitsunoda0511: he’s just grumpy i’m cooking for y/n tonight and not him 😁

pierregasly: i’m the other woman 🕊️

username: TJEY’BE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR HOOQWWWW LONG??

username: and here we were thinking it was a new relationship 😭😭

username: ok but y/n is the coolest

username: anyone see pierre’s comment? lmaoooo

pierregasly: this is not a laughing matter when yuki told me forever!

yukitsunoda0511: to our FRIENDSHIP, i’ve known y/n longer than u

yourusername: 😁😁😁😁

pierregasly: let a man grieve, y/n!!

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #yuki tsunoda scenarios #yuki tsunoda social media au #yuki tsunoda smau #yuki tsunoda x reader #yuki tsunoda imagine

[starsinthesky5]

every time i look at you || joe burrow x reader

description: who knew that an unexpected relationship with a guy you never thought you’d be with would be the happiest, healthiest, and most special relationship in your life? you feel like you’re in high school ;)

a/n: in honor of mr quarterback throwing for the first time since November (publicly). so excited to see him ball ;) this may or may not have been inspired by a song i recently fell in love with.. (cough so high school cough)

alot of flashbacks/reflections to certain moments in this fic because of how the song goes! 

word count: 7 k

warnings: smut, language

-------------------------------------------------------

You took a deep breath, taking in the salty aroma of your favorite beach as your feet were covered in sand. You and Joe had rented a beach house on your Hometown beach for a few weeks and had invited all your cousins over for a few days, so you were soaking up the last few moments in the sand before you had to get everything ready. 

“Y/N, they said that they’re about 30 minutes out!” Joe yelled from the patio. “Come inside so we can get everything set up,”. 

“Okay,” you yelled back, looking over at him. His hair was in its ‘post ocean water’ state, slightly messy but perfect at the same time. You both had taken a little dip in the ocean earlier together and he decided to let his hair be, which you approved of since you loved his beach hair. The golden sun was shining right onto him and he was practically glowing. 

You got up off the sand and made your way inside the house, making sure to wipe your feet on the mat outside since you had just cleaned. Joe had his back to you as you walked into the kitchen. He had ordered some food, making sure to ask your cousins what they liked and only getting that, and was getting all of it ready for everyone. 

“I’m just gonna put out the snack-type food for now so the rest doesn’t get cold,” he says. 

“Okayy,” you sing song, admiring your boyfriend for a few moments and taking in all the little details. For starters, the atmosphere. Joe had gotten all the right foods, alcohol, and games for your little beach reunion. You and your older cousins used to go down to the beach for a few weeks every summer, but after everyone got too old and had adult responsibilities, it became very hard to schedule. So, when you told Joe about how you’d spend your previous summers, he was adamant about having your cousins over for a few days during your own beach trip, and that meant the world to you. He had taken the reigns and planned everything out based off of the things you told him, and he did great.

Secondly, Joe himself. Other than the fact that he looked like a Greek God right now, he was being the most perfect boyfriend and lover to you, and making you feel so giddy inside. You had been here for a week already and you felt like you were being transported back to high school. You would go on a beach trip every summer, but usually to Florida or Malibu, but this year Joe wanted to experience the summers you would non-stop talk about. So that’s exactly what you did. You took him to all your favorite spots such as the pier, the arcade, the cute shops, and the restaurants, and made sure he had some of the best boardwalk fries you have ever had. The entire week felt like you were back in high school, doing the same things with your friends, but this time with the most special person in the world and he was enjoying the hell out of it. He felt like he was 17 again and running off to the beach with his friends from sunrise to sunset (even if it was quite a few hours away), just like you would do.

You didn’t realize how long you were staring at him until he playfully threw a chip at your face, causing you to flinch. 

“Did I lose you there?” he laughs while leaning against the oven. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “Sorry, were you saying something?”.

“Oh, I just said we should hit the pier later tonight if we can. I remember you saying that you guys loved going down there at night since the rides would be the most fun in the dark,” he says.

“Oh it is a must,” you emphasize. 

“Mhm. Also, quick question,”.

“Shoot,” you say back, eating the chip he threw at you. 

“Why were you staring at me like that just now? Did you need to say something?” he says before launching off the oven and over to you.

“Oh, nooo reason,” you giggle as he wraps his arms around your waist, and your arms around his neck. 

“Sureee,” he says while rolling his eyes. 

“It was nothing important, I swear,” you say while pressing a kiss onto his nose. 

“If you say so,” he says, repeating the action and kissing your nose. “You look gorgeous by the way,”.

You blushed at his words. You were wearing a pair of jean shorts and a lilac tank top, nothing crazy, but just enough for your boyfriend. 

“Thank you, Joey,” you say as he pulls you in for a kiss. His hand slides up your waist and around to your back as he pushes you deeper into him. Your hands navigate to his hair as you begin to get lost in his embrace. 

“Mm, Joe,” you whimper as you try to pull away, but his lips follow you, pulling you back into the heated kiss, and holding you tighter. He begins to suck on your bottom lip as his hands wander to your ass; you smile into the kiss as you knew exactly what this would lead to. 

He pushes you against the counter and cups your ass to help you up onto the surface. You open up your legs to let him in between and hook them around his waist. Your tongues are tangled in your mouth and his hand moves down to unbutton your shorts. 

“Joe, they’re gonna be here soon,” you say as you get him to break away by cradling his face. “We still have a lot to do,”.

“We can be quick,” he whispers against your lips. 

“Mm, I doubt that. The fastest we’ve done it was probably 30 minutes,” you chuckle. 

He stares into your eyes briefly before sighing, “Fine, but we are finishing this later. I don’t care if your family is under the roof, we’ll go outside if we have to,”.

“Deal,” you giggle, giving him a deep kiss to show your appreciation. 

A few hours later, your cousins–Sydney, James, Bella, and Micheal–get settled into the house, and you all are gathered on the patio drinking and eating. Non-stop laughter echoes through the air as you all catch up and tell funny stories. You take another sip of your drink as you find yourself staring at your boyfriend once again. He was sitting next to you on the loveseat, your free-hands fingers entwined, as he was telling everyone a funny story about the first time he saw you. It was a pretty embarrassing but cute story, one that always showed off Joe’s adorable little crinkles around his eyes whenever he would tell it. 

Flashback to LSU

You were in the library, cramming to finish your research paper on Metaphysics for your Philosophy class, and had completely lost track of time and forgot that you had to be at your best friend’s apartment to help her get ready for her date. Stacks of books were dispersed around your workspace and a big warm cup of coffee was the only thing keeping you sane. You glanced over to the clock and noticed that it was 2:30 and you were supposed to be at her apartment 10 minutes ago.

“Fuck,” you whispered, a feeling of panic washing over you.

You hurried to close your laptop and gathered your books to put them in your bag. You grabbed your cup of coffee and rushed to the stairs to head downstairs, but just your luck, you ran into a book cart on the way and spilled your coffee all over the extremely expensive college textbooks on it. 

“Shit,” you said as you saw the librarian walk over to you, a scowl on her face. 

“What on earth happened here,” the librarian said. The tone in her voice sends chills down your spine. 

“I- I am so sorry,” you said while trying to salvage the textbooks, which was no use since the majority of them had coffee seeping through the pages. 

“You college kids and your coffee. Do you realize how expensive these textbooks are?,” she lectured.

“I didn’t mean to spill my coffee on the books, I swear. I was in a rush because I have somewhere to be and completely missed the bookcart,” you explained. 

“That’s what they all say,” she said as she cleaned up the spilled coffee. “There are at least 4 fully damaged books. You’re going to have to pay for these,”.

Your eyes widen, “That’s like 450 dollars!”.

“Should have thought about that before bringing coffee in here,” she said while pointing over to the big ‘no food or drinks allowed’ sign. 

“Shit,” you mumbled. 

“Come with me, we can get you billed for them at the front desk,” she said, motioning you to follow her.

How the fuck were you supposed to pay for these textbooks? Your paycheck from your job at the School Store doesn’t even hit until next week and it definitely was not enough to cover textbook fees since you had 50 other things to do with that money. You accepted your fate and were about to walk with the librarian until you felt a warm and muscular arm around your waist. 

“That won’t be necessary Ms. Cindy,” he said. “You see, this is my girlfriend and she was on her way to meet me at the FroYo place down the street for our date,” he added. 

“Punctuality was never her strong suit,” he whispered, causing the librarian to chuckle. “Anyways, that’s why she spilled her coffee on these books. It’s pretty much all my fault so if you’re going to charge someone, charge me,”. 

You were too nervous to look up because that voice sounded all too familiar, a voice you had heard on screens across campus many times, and you refused to accept reality. There was no way this was actually happening.

“Oh! That won’t be necessary Joe,”.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” she smiled. 

“Me either,” you whispered. 

“What was that?” Joe said while gently squeezing your waist, making you look up at him. 

“I- Um,” you stumbled while anxiously searching his eyes for an answer. Something about his eyes calmed you down and you went along with the act. “Yup, he’s my boyfriend,” you said while smiling at the librarian.

“Ahh, Joey finally got a girl,” she teased. 

He laughed at her words and you laughed along. Why was he helping you? You don’t even know each other. 

“I’ll come back later about the books, we’re a little late for our date. Right, Babe?” he said while giving you a wink. 

“Yup! That FroYo is calling my name. Sorry about the books Ms. Cindy,” you say while giving her a sincere smile. 

“Oh, no worries Dear! You both go on ahead and enjoy your date,” she says. 

Joe gives her a nod and tells her goodbye as he leads you down the stairs and out of the library, still gripping your waist. He finally lets go and moves to face you.

“Thank You,” you quickly say, praying that he wouldn’t make fun of you. 

“Anytime…I didn’t catch your name?” he says while putting his hands in the pockets of his purple LSU football shorts. 

“Y/N,” you say. 

“Anytime, Y/N,” he smiles. “You looked like you needed some saving and I am one of Ms. Cindy’s favorites so,” he says with a shrug. 

“Yeah, I was wondering what that was about. She was quick to forget those 450 dollars,” you giggle. 

“Me and Ms. Cindy go waaay back. She really helped me out when I transferred here from Ohio State and had literally no idea what the hell I was doing on Campus. She’s basically my Mom down here. I’m pretty much her favorite college student ever,” he laughed.

“Mmmm, that makes sense. Your charm is pretty hard to beat,” you blush. 

“Thanks,” he replied while bouncing on his feet. Was he nervous? That was something you’d do whenever you’d get nervous. 

“But seriously, thank you for saving my ass back there. How can I repay you?”. 

“Hmm, how about that FroYo date girlfriend?” he smirks. 

Your stomach fluttered at his question. There was no way in hell the quarterback of the LSU Tigers, the QB1, was asking you to get FroYo with him. You? Some random girl he helped at the library that he’d literally never seen before?

“Oh, um. Are you sure? I mean you probably have somewhere to be and-,”.

“Actually, I just got done film study. And I know that you are free too because you’re def late to wherever you were in a rush to go to,” he interrupts. 

You stay silent and look at him for a few seconds. “And, I would love to know how we got to where we are right now,” he adds. 

You think about his offer for a few seconds, contemplating if you should take the risk of doing whatever this was with him, but eventually, you say yes. “Okay, let’s get FroYo boyfriend,”. 

An hour later 

“So you really think aliens are real,” you laugh.

“1000%,” Joe says as he takes another bite of his frozen yogurt. “There is literally no way that we’re the only things in the universe. I refuse to believe it. They’re too advanced to accidentally expose themselves so we probably won’t see them for a while,”.

“Fair point,” you laugh. Joe had been going on about space and aliens for about 10 minutes, and he was absolutely set on convincing you that they existed. You felt high on his interesting thoughts and felt drunk on the feeling that was overcoming you, and it was all because of him. Where were the cameras because you felt like you were living in a teenage rom-com and just had a meet-cute. “Maybe you’re an alien? I mean, I can’t think of any other dude on Campus that would randomly help a random girl at the library like you did,”.

He smiles at you and says, “Maybe I am? I guess we’ll never know,” he shrugs. “What was all that about anyway?”.

“I was caught up writing my essay about Metaphysics and completely forgot that I had to help my friend get ready for her date,”.

“Ah, I see. Did she get ready for her date fine? Ya know, since I stole you away for an impromptu date?”.

“I didn’t know this was actually a date,” you teased. 

“It can be if we want it to be,” he says while giving you a wink. “I know I want it to be,”.

You felt like screaming at that moment. He really was being serious about this being a date. You were pretty unlucky in the college dating pool, most guys you met only want to hook up or be FWB, but Joe wasn’t giving either of those vibes, which was shocking considering he’s a football player. He felt different from the other guys, and you loved the way he was making you feel; so silly, shy, and like you were 16 again and were living out the dream of having a football player boyfriend in high school. But him being a football player was the least interesting thing about him. His nerdiness, charm, and normalness shined through which separated him from most guys. This made the risk of starting something with him less scary.

“I do too,” you say while taking another bite of your custard. 

He was silently praying you would. Even though you just met, he thought you were the most stunning, genuine, and honest girl he had ever come across. This entire date had felt so relaxed and comfortable, something that was uncommon for him when he would go on a date with a girl. Most of them seemingly just wanted bragging rights as the “quarterback’s girl” or to hook up, and he wanted a real girlfriend, and you gave him that vibe. 

“Anyways, she was just fine. I told her why I was skipping out on her and she was more than happy to get ready alone considering why I bailed,”. 

He lets out a soft laugh before asking you about your essay. “So your essay, Metaphysics, that’s…?” he says while trying to recall where he heard that from. 

“Aristotle,” you answer. 

“Right, Philosophy class,” he nods. 

“Mhm. I love anything and everything psychology, sociology, and philosophy related,”. 

“Nerdy, good to know,” he teases. “I think our second date should be at the art and science museum. I heard they have a pretty sick space exhibit right now and an impressive psych one,”. 

Second date? He wanted to spend more time with you. Did he actually like you or was he just being nice?

“Second date?” you questioned. 

“Uhh, Duh,” he said while putting his cup down and resting his arms on the table. “You’re super cool, funny, nerdy, and gorgeous. Why would I not want to do this again?”. 

You blush at his words and your stomach has butterflies in it as he talks. You shake your head and say, “You’re not gonna let me go until I say yes, will you?”.

“Damn straight,” he says while raising his brows.

You let out a dramatic sigh, “Well, I suppose I’m free Friday night,”.

His face falls at your response. “Got a game that night. Quarterback duties,” he sighs. 

You stay silent for a few seconds before he asks another question. “You could come to the game? I can snag you a ticket and one for your friend if you guys wanna sit front row in the stands on our side?”.

Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would pop out of your chest. He wanted you to come to his game and he was being serious. He was serious about all of it; a second date, spending more time with you, and even going to his game. Although you’ve been at LSU for longer than him, you have never attended a football game before. But maybe that should change. 

“Sounds perfect. I would love to see you in action up close Mr. Quarterback. Gotta really make sure you know how to ball and that it’s not all talk,” you flirt. 

“Oh, it’s not just talk,” he flirts back. “But that sounds good. We can do the museum on Saturday,”. 

“Can’t wait,” you say. 

Friday Night – Tiger Stadium 

“Holy Shit, that was a dime!” You screamed while jumping up and down, and bringing your friend Sophia along with you. 

“He is too damn good,” she smiled. 

Joe had just thrown his 4th Touchdown pass of the game, and the entire stadium was electric. You felt adrenaline rushing through your veins as you watched Joe tear it up on the field. He knew how to ball, and he knew how to do it well. You had been screaming and cheering the entire time that you were about to lose your voice. 

“I seriously cannot believe you two are dating,” Sophia said while squeezing your arm.

“Woah, It was 1 date and we’re not even officially official. We’ll see how it goes,” you blushed. 

“Mhmmm. Did you pick a wedding date yet? Ya know, I would like to save the date ahead of time,”. 

“Ha ha,” you said while rolling your eyes at her. 

“Or did you guys already talk about baby names? You would make the cutest babies on the planet,” she teased.

You couldn’t help but smile at her antics and were caught up in teasing each other so you didn’t even realize that Joe was walking over to the barricade where you were seated in front of. The game had ended and he managed to figure out where you were sitting and wanted to talk to you. 

“He’s walking over,” she notices. 

You whip your head back around to the field and catch him jogging over to you, helmet in hand and a big smile on his gorgeous face. 

“I’m gonna go pee, let me know what’s up Mrs. Quarterback,” she winks, quickly exiting the row you were sitting in and leaving you alone.

You shake your head and look back over and Joe is standing right in front of you on the ground below. “Did you have fun?” he panted. 

You leaned down to get closer to him, “Are you fucking kidding me. That was so much fucking fun. I don't think I've ever had this much fun at a sporting event, you killed it,” you smiled. 

“Thank you, and I’m glad,” he said. “You look really pretty, by the way, the LSU purple and ‘9’ looks amazing on you,”.

“I’m glad you like it, I could get used to this. Purple might just be my new favorite color,” you tease.

“I mean, you look absolutely gorgeous in purple,” he nods. “I’ll be wrapped up here in like 30 minutes. If you’re free, we can go get something to eat after,”.

“I’d love to,” you said while reaching down and pressing a kiss on his cheek, causing him to blush. 

A half-hour later, you meet Joe outside the stadium and he has an Uber ready for you both. You texted Sophia to let her know that you and Joe were hanging out so you’d see her tomorrow before your date with him. 

You walk over to him and the car as he opens your door for you, making sure you get inside first. 

“Thank You,” you say at the sweet gesture as you climb into the backseat. 

He climbs in next to you, shutting the door and immediately pushing a button to close off the little window in the car that separates the driver from you both since it was a fancier Uber than you were used to. 

You’re a little confused as to why he did that but before you could ask him, he pulls you closer by your waist, your legs tangled, and he presses his lips against yours. You stay absolutely still for a few seconds before moving your hand to the back of his head, pushing him closer to you. He begins to suck on your lips as you press yourself closer to him. His tongue pushes against your lips, begging for entrance. You open up your mouth and his tongue begins to explore yours and you do the same with him. His grip around you tightens as you feel butterflies flutter in your belly, the kiss turning hotter and messier by the second. Pure electricity between you both. 

“Joe,” you whimper as he begins to kiss down to your neck.

Eventually, he pulls away, leaving both of you a little breathless. 

“I’ve been waiting to do that all week,” he confesses, his lips a little swollen from the kiss. 

“Well, I’m glad you decided to do it,” you whisper, pulling him back to you as you kiss him again, both of you grinning into the fiery kiss. 

End of flashback 

“Oh my god, that was the most embarrassing moment of my life,” you cackled. 

“But, it was also the best. Without that, we wouldn’t be here,” Joe says as he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“I mean, who knew that we would end up here? I seriously thought you were going to ditch me after you got drafted to the Bengals,” you joked, only partially though.

“Ditch you for what? I have everything I’ve ever wanted and need right here,” he says as he squeezes your leg. 

Flashback to Draft Night- Athens, Ohio 

It was currently Draft Night, also the night that Joe’s life, and yours, would change forever. He already knew he was going to be the first overall pick, also knowing he was ending up in Cincinnati. Joe had told you before you both graduated that wherever he ended up, he wanted you to go with him. You thought he was just messing around, but he was being so incredibly serious and you were feeling it for real now. 

Flashback to Graduation 

After the graduation ceremony, Joe had decided to take you back to the FroYo place where you both had you first unofficial official date. He had been meaning to talk to you about your future plans for a few weeks, but never found the right time to bring up such an important subject. He thought it would be best to talk to you about it today, and where better to do it than where it all started. 

You had gotten your FroYo and sat down at the same table you usually sat at and started digging in. 

“I want to talk to you about something,” Joe said, his voice a little shaky and nervous.

You notice his demenour, put your cup down, and reached over to grab his hand, stroking his skin for comfort. “What’s up?” You ask. 

“We just graduated,” he says.

“That we did,” you smile. 

“And I declared for the draft,” he adds. Your smile drops a bit at his next sentance. 

“That you did,” you said back. 

He didn’t really know how to approach the subject, so he just decided to let it out. “Come with me,” he said.

“Come with you where?” You giggled. 

“Wherever I end up. Whichever team and city drafts me. Go with me,” he says.

Your stomach does a backflip as you listen to him talk. He wanted you to go with him? You didn’t really know what was going to happen to your relationship after you graduated. You knew he was going to declare for the draft, and knew he was going to get drafted; but what you didn’t know was what was going to happen with you. A thought in the back of your mind was that he would breakup with you, and that thought scared the shit out of you. The thought of that happening was killing you, but he clearly had other plans. 

“Really?” You ask.

“Really.” He says, squeezing your hand. “I need you with me. I love you so much and the thought of us being so far away from each other is bullshit. I can’t do this without you, Y/N,”. 

You stay silent for a few seconds to collect your thoughts. If you went with him, you’d be living together. You’d have to find a Job in whichever city you’d end up in. It didn’t sound so bad. Actually, it sounded like a dream. You’d get to stay with the love of your life and get to embark on this journey together. 

“Okay,” you smile after thinking about his offer for a few moments.

“Seriously?” He asks.

“I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.” You say while staring into his ocean blue eyes which are filled with promise and love. 

Flashforward back to Draft Night

“Are you excited?” You ask Joe as you sit next to him on the couch. The draft was virtual for the most part this year due to COVID-19, so you were enjoying draft night from the comfort of his parent's house.

“Excited, nervous, and a bit scared,” he laughs. 

“Sounds about right. Your life is about to change,” you say as you press a kiss onto his cheek.

“Our life,” he says.

Butterflies flutter in your belly, “Right, our life,” you say as you get a warm feeling in your stomach. 

“Did you hear back from the job you applied to in Cincy?” He asked.

“Not yet. Should be hearing back tomorrow. Buttt, I talked to one of my connections there and they said to be expecting a positive answer,” you beam.

“That’s amazing, Y/N. I'm so proud of you,” he says as he pulls you in for a hug. 

You let out a laugh as he pulls you in tighter, “I can’t wait,”.

“Me either. It’s starting to feel real,” he says.

“Oh, it will feel realer when we go house hunting in Cincy on Sunday,” you say as you pull away from the hug. 

Joe lets out a sigh, “Mm I can’t wait for the fun experience that’ll be,”.

“It won’t be super fun, but at least we’re doing it together,” you say, gazing lovingly into his eyes. 

“And I’m very glad we are,” he says, pressing a kiss to your soft lips.

End of flashback 

“Aww, you guys are so cute,” Sydney says. 

"Agreed. I’ve never seen Y/N happier and more free like she is with you, Joe,” James adds as he takes a sip of his drink. 

Joe looks over at you with a big smile, “Well, I’m lucky to have her,”. 

You look over at him with so much love and comfort. No one has truly ever had you like he has. He brings out the best in you, and he has since day 1. Everyone can see it, and everyone can feel it too.  

A little later, you all go back inside and go your own ways for a little bit for some guy and girl time. The boys are sitting on the couch and getting the Xbox set up to play Grand Theft Auto, while You, Sydney, and Bella are sitting at the Kitchen Island drinking some wine and having girl talk. 

You look back over to Joe, who seems to be incredibly excited to play GTA with your cousins. 

“So high school,” you giggle as you remember a similar instance from a few years ago. 

Flashback to a few years ago

You had just gotten back from lunch with your friends and were making your way into your and Joe’s house. You walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water and saw Joe sitting on the couch, seemingly playing video games with his high school friends, something he would usually do on weekends. 

You walk over to him and he sees you, so he puts his headset down and mutes himself. “Hey Babe, how was lunch?”.

“It was good, just the usual,” you say as you sit next to him on the couch. 

He looks back over to you, taking in everything about you. You looked absolutely sexy in your white top and flowy pink short skirt; your hair was in two cute braids. “You look beautiful,” he says as he goes back to his game. 

“Thank youuu,” you say as you fall back against the couch cushion, your skirt riding up your legs. You move your hand to his lower back and slip it under his shirt, rubbing the soft golden skin. A smirk graces his face as he leans back against the cushions like you are. His hand moved to your thigh, slowly creeping up to your core. 

“Joe,” you whisper. 

“It’s alright, they can’t hear you. And I owe you for this morning,” he says as he puts his headset back on and unmutes himself. He was referring to the early morning head you gave him before you left for your lunch. He wanted a little more, but that was all you had time for. 

His fingers move under your skirt and hover over your already damp-panties. He slides them over to the side and feels your wetness. You let out a quiet moan as you move your hips closer to his hand. Your wetness allows him to easily slide his finger inside your core, causing you to let out another moan. 

“Joe, shit,” you quietly moan.

He begins to pump his finger in and out of your slick heat as your breaths come out in short gasps. You move your hand to grip his forearm as he picks up the pace of his fingers, eventually adding another which was driving you insane. 

“Oh my god,” you moan as you squirm in your seat. 

You look over at him, a smile on his face and he was so casually talking to his friends through the headset, and had you a complete mess right next to him. He continued to pump his fingers into your core as your grip on his forearm tightened.  

“Ahh,” you quietly moan as you throw your head back into the cushion. Your breathing turned heavier as his thumb grazed your clit and he started to rub your sensitive sweet spot. A few seconds later, you felt your walls clenching around his fingers. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered. And as if on cue, he pinched your clit with his thumb and pumped another finger into your core, ultimately sending you straight over the edge. 

“Joee,” you moaned as you came around his fingers.

End of flashback 

“Joe’s a really great guy,” Bella says as she takes a sip of her wine, snapping you back to the present. 

“Mhm, he really meshes with everyone so well,” Sydney adds as she pops a chip into her mouth. 

“Yup. Andd he is absolutely amazing to you. He’s like your real-life prince charming that you would dream about in high school,” Bella says. 

A blush creeps up your face as they continue to tell you how amazing he is. “He’s so down to earth and normal even though he’s a millionaire quarterback, it never fails to amaze me. And he is absolutely head over heels in love with you” Sydney says while patting your thigh. 

“Yeah, he really is,” you say as you take a sip of your wine. 

“I mean, it’s been like what, 5 or 6 years?” Sydney asks.

“Yup,” Bella responds.

“5, almost 6 years of that everlasting blush and smile on your face. This is it, Y/N,” Sydney says, referring to what you had been dreaming about since you were little. 

“Here comes the bride,” Bella Sing-Songs as she mimics a slow dance, causing you to break into a laugh. 

“Bella’s right. Any wedding bells in the near future?” Sydney asks. 

A smile creeps up your face as you look back over to Joe who is incredibly focused on the video game and chatting with your other cousins. 

“Yeah actually. We have talked about it,” you say as you look back over to Sydney and Bella, a big smile on both of their faces. 

Flashback to last summer 

You and Joe had been laying out on the pool chairs on the deck, soaking in a bit of the sun and hoping for a nice tan. You were laying there with your eyes closed as you suddenly felt a dip in your pool chair. You opened your eyes and Joe was kneeling on the chair.

“Think you can make some room?” he smiles. 

“Always,” you say as you spread open your legs. Joe lays down in between them, the back of his head resting against your belly and his arms caressing your legs. You move your hands into his soft golden hair and let out a relaxed sigh as you feel so much peace at that moment.  You closed your eyes again, but suddenly opened them at Joe’s question. 

“Do you wanna get married?” he asks so casually. 

“What,” you say, feeling a bit dazed.

“I said, Do you want to get married?” he laughs as he turns around in between your legs, moving a bit higher so that his head is resting on your chest now and his arms around your waist. 

“Is this your way of proposing?” you giggle as you look down at him.

“Well, No. I don’t have a ring yet and when I do propose, it will definitely be more memorable. But would you want to marry me?”.

You stay silent for a few seconds, a million thoughts in your head. Was this really happening? You had dreamt of your wedding since you were 5 years old, and now you had someone who wanted to make that a reality. And it wasn’t just any ‘someone’, it was Joe, your Joe. Your boyfriend, best friend, and favorite human.

“Of course I would,” You smile as he looks back up at you.

“Really?” he asks while raising his eyebrows.

“Really. I couldn’t think of a better person to spend my life with. You are quite literally my dream boy and I am so fucking glad I spilled that coffee on those textbooks in the Library at LSU. It brought me you,” you say as you rub his back.

“I love you,” he says as he presses kisses onto your chest.

“I know things are a bit crazy right now with football and everything and I want you to focus on your goals first, so whenever the time is right and the time comes, I’ll be right here,” you add.

Joe lifts his head off of your chest, moves to your face, and starts to press kisses all over your lips. “I love you so much,” he says in between kisses. 

“I love you too, future husband,” you say.

End of flashback 

“Awwww,” your cousins said in Unison. 

“So yeah,” you breathe out. “It’s gonna happen when it happens,” you shrug.

“Well, I have a feeling it’s gonna happen soon. My intuition has never failed me,” Sydney says. 

“Syd’s right. You remember when her intuition said that the Zipper ride at the pier was going to break down mid-ride and that we shouldn’t go on it? And then 15 minutes later what happened?” 

“You guys are too much,” you giggle as you get off the barstool and put the empty glasses in the sink. 

“Can’t help it. Baby Cousin is gonna be a Wifeyyyy,” Bella teases as she hops off the barstool and grabs your arms, and twirls you around. 

“Shut up,” you laugh as she pulls you in for a hug. 

“Yo, you guys ready to go to the pier?” Micheal asks from the living room. 

You lift your head up and say, “Um, is that even a question,”.

“Joe, you and Y/N can go in your car, we all can take the other one,” Sydney says.

“Sounds good,” he says as he walks over to the counter to grab the keys and then grabbing your hand. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he leads you out to the driveway.

A few minutes later

You and Joe are in the car and on the way to the Boardwalk where the pier is. Joe’s hand rests on your thigh and your hands are playing with his soft fingers. 

“You having fun?” he asks.

“I am,” you smile. “Thank you so much for doing this,”. 

“Hey, they’re my family too,” he says while giving your thigh a soft squeeze. 

You look over at Joe for a few moments. God, your life was perfect. You could not ask for anything more, it couldn’t get better than this. He was truly the best thing that could have ever happened to you. Your family loved him, your friends loved him, you loved him. The way he makes you feel cannot be replicated by anyone else. Truly one of a kind.  

“Y/N, you’re staring at me again,” Joe laughs as he notices you gazing at him. 

“I knoww,” you blush.

“Well… You gonna tell me why this time?” he asks, looking back over at you. 

You let out a content sigh, “I just feel so high school every time I look at you,”.

“I’m gonna pretend like I know what you’re talking about,” he says while parking the car. 

“I feel so high school with you, like I’m 16 again. I’m dating a quarterback who absolutely loves everything about me. I never thought I would be dating him, it was really unexpected. I never would have had the courage to make a move, but he did. You knew what you wanted and boy, you got her” you beam. "I'm living a teen rom-com right now,".

Joe turns off the car and looks at you, his mouth slightly open and his eyes filled with nothing but love. His heart fluttered at your words. You were it for him. He wanted nothing more and he felt at peace knowing you felt the same about him. 

“Y/N,” he whispers as his hand cups your cheek. 

“I love you, Joe. Thank you for making my dream a reality,” you say as you move closer to him. 

He leans over the center console and slowly inches closer to your lips, eventually capturing them in a sweet kiss. The neon lights from the Ferris Wheel reflected onto the car, casting a glow on both of you. This felt like something straight out of high school. You were sitting in the car with the man of your dreams, at the beach where you would spend countless hours of your youth, a memory-filled place, and you were sharing it with your special person. 

You pulled away after a few seconds, a smile bigger than ever before on your face. “You know how that felt?”.

“So High School,” he responded with a smile. 

“So High School,” you nodded as you pulled him back to you for another kiss, both of you smiling into it. 

Suddenly you heard a few smacks on the window and some yelling, causing you and Joe to pull away. 

“What the-” you say.

“Come onnn Love-Birds!” James yells. 

“We don’t have all night!” Bella screams as your Cousins walk over to the pier entrance.

“You guys can make babies later, that rollercoaster is calling our name!” Sydney yells. 

“Let’s goooo,” Micheal adds, pointing to the Ferris Wheel. 

You and Joe look at each other and start laughing at the scene. He gets out of the car and makes his way to your side, opening your door and helping you out of the car. He closes your door, grabs your hand, entwines your fingers, and leads you over to the entrance.

“This is gonna be epic,” Joe says. His cheeks were pink and his eyes twinkled in the light, a bounce present in his step. He looked like a little kid at the boardwalk for the first time.

“Yeah, this is so high school,” you laugh as Joe eagerly leads you to the entrance.

--The End--

#joe burrow x reader #joeburrow #joe burrow fic #nfl imagine #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow

[rel124c41]

VISCERA. floyd leech

Held in Floyd’s hand is a single fish fork. It incandesces like a lamp, and when you blink, the contour is burnt on your inner eyelids. “Can I taste you?” OR; Floyd is trying and failing to confess to Mostro Lounge's new line-cook.

tags: cooking, not actually unrequited love, courting rituals, cannibalistic thoughts, developing relationships, food as a metaphor for love, blood kink, first kiss, wingman jade, underage smoking, culinary crucible (twst), they're sooo in love ur honor

word count: 17,686

You do not like the look in Azul’s eyes. To be frank, you do not think you have once seen a favorable expression on the roulette wheel of masks Azul Ashengrotto wears. So, backtracking, you have never liked the look in Azul’s eyes (even more so now).

This one you have seen before: right at the point where the words ‘I heard if someone makes a deal with you, you’ll grant any wish’ fell from your mouth when you wanted to snip anemones off Grim, Deuce, and Ace’s heads. 

Originally, you did not have the drive to save all two hundred and twenty-five students. Only those three. Even with the title Prefect, you could have cared less about NRC’s student body until Azul sought to amp up the risk and reward. You accepted his offer for thrill and entertainment, loving the taste of it. 

Now, you stand in the VIP room with that similar atmosphere perfuming the air. Old paper and pen ink, the scent of an odious deal about to be struck. You challenge Azul’s self-assured look with an equally authoritative simmer. Your expressions size each other up like claymores on a battlefield. Azul is the first one to break first. He raises a hand and says, “Jade. Floyd. You are dismissed.” He even sends away his reinforcements in this warfare. 

Leaving himself vulnerable like that? … No, backtrack again, Azul is far from a vulnerable student. 

“Aw, but I wanna hear her answer!”

“Come now, Floyd. We shall be made aware of their decision at a later time.”

“No fun Azul.” Still, the door closes behind the twins. Now, it is just you and Azul alone. Like two shipwrecked survivors in a rowing boat. You are sure he knows you will go for the jugular upon the sight or scent of blood.

He gestures towards the space between you two, two sofas and a table. “Prefect, why don’t –”

“I’ll stand.”

Ah, Azul thinks fondly, that callousness that managed to ensnare one of Octavinelle’s slipperiest and mischievous fish. Still. A knot forms in Azul’s cheek in vexation. Your audacity and Azul’s are matched up so evenly that he almost wonders if you two share the same Zodiac sign. 

“So be it.”

You cross your arms as Azul continues. “A talent of yours has been brought to my attention. I was hoping that we could discuss it peacefully,” his blue eyes narrow, taking your stone-like stature, “without any hostility … But, no matter, it is still worth discussing.”

“I thought the Ramshackle dorm is the only asset of mine that has value.” Your posture shifts, straightening. “If it has to Aduece or Grim, you can forget it.”

“Aduece …? Um, no, nothing of the sort. It is strictly something brought to my attention during –”

There is this thing about Octavinelle. More like Octavinelle’s atmosphere. It clings in the air like a heavy candle scent, suctioning itself to the wallpaper, aquarium tank glass panels, and each stitch of the Octavinelle uniform. Something that stalks like a shark. It is a presence you label: viscera. 

A stomach and intestines is a viscera and a viscera is a stomach and intestines. You feel if you ever drop your armor around Octavinelle, gastrointestinal acid will come to consume you. The jaws tunneling down to the belly of Jonah’s whale is just a show of weakness away. It is why you act so callous now.

You always try to keep yourself schooled in the trio’s presence. “--During the Culinary Crucible.” And with that, viscera returns to you when those words leave Azul’s mouth. You feel like you just drank spoiled milk. Before he can accuse you of anything, you speak.

“You were one of my judges. I hope you aren’t going to make a baseless acquisition like food-poisoning. Remember, two other people ate what I served you.”

“I also remember, quite clearly, that you were one of the four students able to get a perfect score of thirty.”

Spoiled milk is too weak of a rotten flavor. You feel like you have just dug into a garbage bin and picked the last mold-crusted food item, all the way at the bottom of the barrel, sponging up all other rotten seasonings. To have something of yours peak Azul's interest again … it is not a nice taste. You are quick to shut down what you know has probably already been formulating in Azul’s head. 

“Dumb luck. Floyd also got a perfect score.” Him, Trey, Jamil, and yourself.

“You seem to forget I was one of your judges too. I thought you had a more effective memory than that, Prefect.” 

Floyd getting a perfect score could be more closely aligned to dumb luck than you. Which is not to say it was dumb luck. Nonetheless, stars and planets happened to align as Floyd was in a good mood while cooking and Jade was a judge out of three others; it just happened. Your food though? Azul runs a restaurant. He can taste experience and talent on the edge of a fork. 

Coupled with your experience and talent, you are not an ignorant individual either. Which is why you sit down, imaging that this conversation is going to drag. You ignore Azul’s smile. 

Elbows on knees, you drill in, “So, what? You want me to replicate a meal for you? Getting the twins to drag me here is a bit excessive for another bite of lamb and oysters.”

“I would rather monopolize that talent beyond just one simple meal. You’re thinking too small, Prefect.”

“You’re thinking too big.” 

You really wish you had magic, just to reverse time. Even if you were a mage, you doubt you would even have the skill to master such a complex spell. But, you would master it. To reverse time and find a way to get a different judge not named Azul Ashengrotto. The line-up for your judges at the Culinary Crucible was three housewardens: Riddle Rosehearts, Kalim Al-Asim, and Azul Ashengrotto. Grim had panicked at the trio, thinking both of you would be losing your elective credit. As always, you took the reins and got you both out of the whale’s stomach before digestion. 

“I was thinking: the fruits of your talents are quite wasted. Who do you cook for? That ungrateful cat-beast has no refined palate; he would eat table scraps if presented to him. Ace and Deuce, neither of them are grateful for the meals you must provide. You are surely underappreciated.”

“Wow, you clearly don’t think at all.” You eye a section of the VIP room in exasperation, close enough to the eye-roll you desperately want to do. “You think – what? – I don’t get enough thank you’s and I’m suddenly going to do what exactly?”

Azul almost deflates. It is surprising how easy you can sometimes manage to get him that way. He chooses to straighten a few pencils on his desk as a means to straighten and iron out the imperfections of his approach. Glasses tilted down, Azul answers, “I mean no offense to your friends. But, I think you are not getting proper payment. No, that I know.”

“Unbelievable.” You tsk, falling into the embrace of the seat. “You think the world runs on money.”

“Does it not?”

“...”

“Your silence tells me all I need to know.”

“You want me to work at the Lounge, don’t you?”

“Yes. A much better use of your talents, don’t you think?” 

In your head, you imagine the taste of umami takoyaki. A cleaver is raised with the vindication of a French guillotine; when judgment falls, it hits the thick part of Azul’s upper arm. Which would be more ironic: selling Azul’s body parts or eating them?

Below you, your foot taps on the wooden floor. A restless rabbit pittering that gives the housewarden some insight into your otherwise stone expression. Azul must be so certain that you are thinking of throwing in the towel right then and there. Really, you are thinking of Ruggie. Ruggie and the Intra-school Competition. For that time briefly, he had worked in Mostro Lounge, wearing his ceremony robes. 

You and Ruggie are very close, lesser than the trio you had dubbed your own, but still more than your other first-years. So one day, he regaled you with the story of working for Azul Ashengrotto just to fill up talking space.

The situation of the broken glass and Floyd’s moodiness. The situation of the kitchen lacking people and Azul having to send servers into the back to help cook. Those are two factors you really have to roll around in your head. You do not like to be rushed and you are wary of Floyd’s penduluming moods. 

Though Ruggie has a positive outlook of the rewards he reaps from that time, you do not think you can handle working in Mostro Lounge. You squeeze by with the money you make. However, “You pay well?”

“I assure you will have proper compensation for your labor.”

“Could you stop being scummy and just tell me the hourly rate?”

“For your skills – if they aren’t dumb luck – you’re looking at twenty-eight per hour.” 

You know what? The world really does run on money. 

While not an expert at mental math, even you know that with just a twenty hour work week, that kind of money would shift the motion of your boat, put more wind under your sails. Monetary motivation is perhaps the most powerful thing in the world.

Expression still schooled, you contemplate it. Accepting this … you imagine yourself tiny, using a tongue as a diving-board into a devilish pit of gnashing teeth and churning tentacles. Right into the belly of the beast. The conjured up image makes you want to shudder. Instead, your soft enamels move and your tongue articulates, “I’m gonna need smoke breaks every two hours.” 

Oddly enough, out of all the times you pressed him, this one catches Azul by visible surprise. “Sm-Smoke breaks? … why, I suppose that is acceptable.” That is far from unreasonable, surprising but not unreasonable. “I’m glad that we could come to –”

“And I’m going to need more time to even consider it. That isn’t a yes. I’m outlining terms.”

“Perfectly fine. I was actually going to outline this,” you and Azul lock eyes. “Just in case what I tasted was dumb luck, in a week, I wanted you to return to Mostro Lounge during closing hours. You’ll cook a meal for three judges again, myself included. Then, this conversation will become serious.”

“I will not sign a contract.”

“This is employment; no contract is required. You labor – cook. I pay. Such is the usual transaction of jobs.” 

Despite the feeling of a tongue slimming itself across your spine and teeth nibbling on your toes like garra rufa, you think that does not sound too devastating.

A week passes; you decide to keep your discussion with Azul concealed to yourself. There is this epidemic going around NRC called the lost art of keeping a secret. You decide for your mental well-being that you will wait for a week to pass, serve your meal to Azul and two other mysterious persons, and then, spill your guts to Ace, Deuce, and Grim. 

You have a close call though, guts almost prematurely ripped from your abdomen. The familiar feeling of teeth on your jugular creeps up onto you in the cafeteria. Fingers agile, you press your plastic fork into another’s jugular and greet him, “Hi Floyd.”

Held hostage by your plastic fork dug into his throat, Floyd smiles and cheers, “Shrimpyyy! Thought I could surprise you this time.”

“Nah, not fast enough. Next time though.” You smile sweetly..

You do not hate Floyd Leech. Though, he is far from your favorite student. The label of friendship does not really fit on him (despite the fact he thinks the opposite). Out of everyone in Octavinelle, the presence of viscera glues itself to him. Carnivorous teeth coupled with his predator adroitness screams belly of the beast to you. 

Which is why you fend him off with a plastic fork.

“Hehehe, next time then,” Floyd grins. He leans in, uncaring of how plastic folds on his pallid throat. “Azul-y told me that ya remembered I got a perfect score.”

For a second, you have no idea what he is talking about. You share a grand amount of two classes with Floyd; you do not remember him getting perfect marks in either subjects. Until it dawns on you, that far-off conversation with Azul, the Culinary Crucible. For some reason, your neck feels warm as if you should not have made that observation; like noticing Floyd’s perfect score is a rude thing to do. “Ah. Yeah, I did. Good job again.”

Floyd laughs; you feel the noise through the connection of fork and skin, finally lowering it at the sensation. “Shrimpy did pretty good too. Ya gonna cook me something sometime? Not fair that Azul is the only one who got to taste your cookin’.”

You lower your voice to a suspicious whisper as a thought dawns on you. “... Hey, why does Azul need me working there if you cook so good?” 

Unlike Azul, you had not been mystified by food at the Culinary Crucible. During the entire ordeal of being transported to a tropical beach via book, Floyd had cooked at the abandoned cottage. You had been amazed by his skills, gorging yourself on the delicious spread.

His eyes shift up to the left, avoiding your slight interrogation. Almost hiding something. “Eeeh, I don’t know. Azul’s always complainin’ even though he can barely cook. His food is super boring; Shrimpy’s probably tastes better.” 

“Talk to Azul about it. I’m sure it can be – Grim, paws off my food.” You brandish your makeshift fork-slash-claymore at your little beast.

“Ah, but I want Shrimpy to cook for me because they wanna.”

“Heh, yeah,” you trail off, unsure of how to respond to that. Mostly failing to come up with a response because you cannot see a possibility of that ever happening. “Like I said, um, Azul.” And that is all you really can articulate because, that’s a cool thought but I can’t see myself cooking for him. 

Besides; to you, love is an ingredient stored in the kitchen. And, to you, love is about finding people to be in the kitchen with. Your philosophies do not synchronize with your feelings with Floyd Leech. 

“Mmm,” Floyd hums, dissatisfied with your answer. He watches you place your fork down; glances at Baby Seal who has been watching this go down (Ace and Deuce still in the cafeteria line). “Guess I’ll just have to wait to taste Shrimpy’s cookin’ on Sunday, hehe. Caaan’t wait!”

“What’s on Sunday? –”

“I suppose you will. Bye for now, Floyd,” you interrupt Grim.

“See ya, Shrimpy.” He leaves you with a peace-sign.

Slowly, the feeling of being slobbered on like a squeak-toy in a dog’s mouth ebbs. The indent of teeth loosen with each step that Floyd takes, rejoining Jade and Azul outside the cafeteria entrance. When Ace asks what that is all about, you threaten him too with your plastic fork. Sometimes, a girl has business of her own to take care of, your fork emphasizes to the trio. Thus, you manage to keep it secret despite hiccups. 

Eventually, Floyd’s statement does come to fruition. Because like you said, a week has passed. On Sunday, he gets to taste your cooking because: “I didn’t know you two were the other judges.” 

“Aw, not excited to see us,” Floyd asks with a fake frown. He is leaning over your shoulder, hands in his pockets, and looking far too much like a vulture. 

“Did you honestly expect someone else,” Jade asks, following you inside. 

Despite the fact they were assigned to guide you in, you take up the front and walk with purpose into the stomach. Mostro Lounge has finally closed and you trudge into it, yawning. Sections of blue lighting twist up the ceiling like a tunneling rib-cage. When blue gleams on Jade’s smile, more importantly on his teeth, you think of viscera. 

Rolling your shoulder, you reply, “Guess I didn’t put much thought into it.”

“At least, you came prepared with some strategy. I imagine that must have taken up priority in your mind.”

“Not at all.” The toothpick clenched in your teeth wobbles with your words. Floyd giggles happily; his contagious high-pitched giggle has you fighting back a smile. You manage to knock the mirth away when yours and Azul’s eyes collide. “You two will just have to see if I’m as good as he claims. Isn’t that right, Azul?”

“Seriously, Prefect, did you come here with zero preparation?”

“I was busy with schoolwork. Piss off.” 

Azul lets out a tired sigh. You shuffle in front of him, body like the condiments in a sandwich between six-foot-one eel-mer-shaped bread. “So, I’m assuming this is going to be more or less like the Culinary Crucible. I’ll cook, you three will judge. Sounds simple enough.”

“Yes, that is the gist of it. Floyd, if you will.”

“Here ya go, Shrimpy.” 

In front of you is Floyd’s hat turned upside down like a beached turtle. Inside lie about twenty or so folded slips of paper. The eel-mer uses the proximity to touch his bicep to yours. So moving that hand off the point of contact, you reach in. “Cioppino with mussels,” you read from the paper. “That’s relatively an easy meal … Give me another slip of paper.”

“But, why?” Azul questions.

“But I’m not going to cook unless I have a challenge,” you say. Over your shoulders, Floyd grins wide at your words almost as if in agreement. 

“Now,” Jade pushes your hand back into the hat before you can unfold the second slip of paper. “While I may understand your reasoning, it is quite late. We delegated to write down meals that could be cooked in under an hour. All of them are easy.”

“C’mon, let Shrimpy pick another, Jade.”

“Floyd.”

“Fiiine.”

“Fiiine,” you whine in a matching tone, looking at the Nunito font spelling out the meal you have to make. You frown when realizing you and Floyd accidentally matched up. Before anything can be said, you direct a question at Azul, “Can I listen to music? They didn’t let me at the Culinary Crucible.”

“Of course. However you wish to go about artistic expression, don’t let me stop that.”

“Thanks.”

From the closed door, the sound of guitar that more closely resembles the sound of a chainsaw starts up, horridly grating. Like a surgeon orchestrating with his tools of carnage. Commencing this operatic butchery of a feast. Body and blood. 

Loitering, you start to thumb an unheard beat on the bakery box in hand. In your mouth, a toothpick swings up and down and tumbles left to right like a gymnast. Students file past you to enter the classroom you are waiting by and … ugh, why is this taking so long!

Quickly and a bit peeved, you check your phone. You and him agreed upon this time before Defense Magic class could start. The bell should ring in about five minutes and he should have been here five minutes ago.

Glancing into the open doorway where a long fighting platform and multiple seats await, you consider just leaving it on his desk. If you do that then you can still make it to your next class … you are just about to jump in to fluidly join the swimming crowd walking in the class when —

“SHRIMPY!!!”

The toothpick in your mouth breaks into splinters, guillotined by your teeth.

Cradling fallen wooden bits in your hand, you look up at Floyd with an expression that is beyond peeved. It does little to deter him. Hands in his pockets and brother shoulder to shoulder with him, Floyd stalks over to you energetically, grinning wide.

“Hello Prefect.”

“You switchin’ to a second year class, little shrimp? Defense Magic gets a bit rowdy, hehe.”

“Hi Jade. Hi Floyd. No, I’m waiting for someone right now.”

“Aw, Shrimpy, ya miss me that much?”

“If you were so eager to see us before your first day at the Lounge, you only need to say so, Prefect.”

Oh, backtracking, you got the job. Another perfect score of thirty. You start later this afternoon … that is all normal and expected. 

There is this odd thing that has been bugging you though. After you had presented the dishes, toweling down your hands and asking for a smoke break, you came back to see: Jade ate the entire meal, scraping the plate clean like a suctioning tube; Azul ate but left a reasonable amount of leftovers that were both alternatively acceptable to trash or save; Floyd took a few careful nibbles then left the rest untouched. Guess I’ll just have to wait to taste Shrimpy’s cookin’ on Sunday, hehe. Caaan’t wait! Such untrue words. Why even say something like that if he would just pick at it like a finicky child? 

It seems Floyd never has a long-lasting objective.

Holding the bakery box with one hand, you reach in your pocket to discard your broken toothpick and grab a new one. As you do, Floyd folds cursory arms over your head, leaning over you like a bar-table to talk to his brother.

“Caaan’t believe it; Shrimpy’s big day in the ocean blue starts today.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will be quite interesting.”

“All that delicious food … I should show her how to make takoyaki.” 

“Now, Floyd, she must follow along with the orders placed.”

“Aw, boooring.”

“Who's gonna be training me?” 

“I believe Azul designated the job to Floyd.”

“Aha ha, hear that Shrimpy? We get to hang out all night tonight~” Floyd leans in a way that you can see his wide, visceral grin. 

A human has a set of thirty-two made of enamel and root cementum. Omnivorous with molars in the back for plants along with incisors and canines in the front for meat. Floyd has a set of forty-two teeth. Quite unlike humans, his teeth are made of cartilage – a human body could never adapt to safely chew with cartilage-made teeth. Floyd’s teeth shine in a glass-esque glow.

And: “you got something in your teeth” you say to him, pointing to your own mouth. Because there is a medium-sized piece of something wedged between his glimmering teeth. 

“Huh?” 

You watch him momentarily jam a fingernail in his mouth, trying to find whatever you are pointing out. And completely missing the mark too. He is so annoying. It is on the bottom row of teeth, not the top, you seethe. 

“Ugh, let me.”

Downward, the bakery box finds the floor. Instead of just one, you shake two bamboo toothpicks out of your pack. One flips easily into your mouth and the other pirouettes between middle and index. By the lapel of his incorrectly put on jacket, you pull Floyd down to your height. “It’s not even in your top row of teeth,” you scold. “Open.”

Your command is ignored. It surprisingly seems like Floyd will never open his mouth again. Tight-lipped and staring, his mismatched eyes look at you like you have suddenly grown an extra head. Then, a slow mounting blush grows on his face that peaks at crimson. Hell, the whites of his eyes almost glow when backdropped by the flush on his face. 

Did the temperature spike or something? You are at a comfortable temperature. It is certainly odd – your train of thought ends when Jade checks behind you, “My, how scandalous. And right in the middle of the hallway too. I never thought of you as such an audacious person, (Name).”

“Huh?” You raise an unamused eyebrow at Jade. Your own toothpick in mouth tilts down in ire. “You know what, forget it. Look stupid the rest of the day.”

Serves you right for trying to help … stupid twins.

“Wh – Wait! I’ll open my mouth!” Floyd’s tongue lolls out.

Ah, it seems the temperature has spiked. This is why you try not to interact with Octavinelle and all their consuming ways. And because! “Your fucking teeth! Dude, I just need to see your teeth!” Jade’s laughter grows in volume. 

Eventually, a bit pissy that this has become a whole ordeal, you manage to get the piece out of Floyd’s teeth. Both of you share a bit of warmth on your faces. 

The toothpick is flicked into the trash inside the Defense Magic classroom. You want to forget all about this interaction already.

“Thanks Shrimpy. You’re a lifesaver!” Floyd gives a big, boyish grin, all forty-two of his teeth cleaned. Pink is still a sandstorm dusting on his cheeks.

You look away from Floyd with a twitch in your cheek. Finally – “Ruggie!” The hyena’s ears twitch on the top of his head. You pick up the bakery box of donuts from the ground and meet him halfway. “You’re late,” but you scold Ruggie with a smile rather than a frown. 

“Sorry, Leona had me running an impromptu errand. Work never ends.”

“Oh, I know what you mean.”

And you and Ruggie share a bone-deep sigh, despite smiling, that only Leona’s and Crowley’s errand-runner could possibly sympathize with on equal footing.

“Well, payment as arranged,” you say, going to hand Ruggie his payment when – “Jade!”

“Oya, was this the person you were waiting for, Prefect?”

“Yes, now give that back.”

“You said this was payment? What an unusual transaction. I wonder what it could be for.” He opens up the bakery box. Six different types of donuts stare back at him.

You stare right alongside them. You would rather not have him or his brother knowing that you get study guides from Ruggie. In exchange for them, you bake Ruggie donuts and other sweets. Information like that would be valuable to Azul. You remember Deuce, Grim, and Ace taking study guides from Azul in November; you are smart enough to make deals with less odious individuals. 

You can even imagine what Jade would say upon learning you require help in your classes, “My brother and I would be happy to tutor you, Prefect.” Why Jade includes his brother when trying to interact with you, you will never know. You doubt Floyd could sit still for one math equation. 

“Keep wondering,” then, you retrieve the bakery box from Jade with a huffing puff. 

Yet before you can even give Ruggie his payment, an arm hooks around your neck in a chokehold. Gasping startled, you look up to see Floyd’s fluorescent smile hanging above you like the moon on a riverbank. Yet when he speaks, he does not look at you.

“See ya tonight, Shrimpy?”

“Um … yeah.”

“‘Kay Shrimpy! Hehehe!”

As you walk off, you rub your neck wondering what that was all about. 

You are prepared like someone might put the finishing touches on a cake. Azul gives you your Octavinelle hat and apron while Jade explains how they go about business. A slip of paper from Jade tells you the connection between abbreviations and meals. 

“But if you have any questions on what a certain abbreviation stands for, Floyd will assist you.” You then asked why you would need help; they all personally tasted how capable you were at making meals. Abbreviations are relatively easy to understand too. Jade simply laughed before opening two swinging doors to the kitchen. A tongue lolls out and on the beastly carpet, Floyd stands, dressed up in cooking attire rather than waiter attire. 

“Have fun you two,” are the words Jade leaves you with an hour or so ago, standing in the whale’s guts. Fun? You think Floyd is having the most fun out of the two of you because –

Blood hits the floor and soaks into the linoleum. Little stardust sprinkles of red between both of your awestruck bodies. Each droplet holds such a weight that you are almost surprised that the red splatter does not start burning holes through the floor like stomach acid. 

Floyd is bent over like he has chronic stomach pain. Teal hair covers his face as he shudders. Backtracking, he was looking at you a minute ago. Pestering you, he had tried to change what you were making. You were not dealing with that. (A knife suddenly falls in the path of Floyd’s hand.

“Please keep your filthy hand to your side of the kitchen.”

“That just makes me wanna touch your side more, Shrimpy.”

“Then, you must also not be fond of your fingers. Unexpected but nothing I cannot work with. A pinch of seasoning and I’m sure even you will be easy to swallow.”

“I have something else you could – FUCK!”)

Now, Floyd is bleeding all over the floor. The metallic stench has you squirming.  

Oh, I am getting fired. Or, squeezed. Or, Ace and Deuce are going to find my drowned dead body. The dumpster fire of thought explodes like an atomic bomb when Floyd’s head lifts up. The grin on his face splits from ear to ear. All forty-two teeth catching the light a certain way. Forget all that! I’m going to be eaten alive!! The thought runs a strangely pleasant shiver up your spine. 

Is money worth this stress? Because you are dealing with parts of yourself that you do not want to address.

It is the day after and Floyd is staring enraptured at his palm. 

Perhaps English language cannot house the absolute devotion that Floyd stares at his palm with; however, Jade believes enraptured is one-fourth close enough given language’s constrictions. His twin brother looks at the innards of his hand with the same expression when he saw fireworks for the first time or experienced the sight of red for the first time. Looking at it like it is the first time he has seen his palm. It is because something new lies on his palm. A new difference between Floyd and himself as identical twins.

Scheming, Jade decides he wants to poke at that wound. So, tearing paper off his notepad, he leaves the pending order with one of the kitchen staff and does not pick up the tray designated for him. Pocketing work, Jade slithers over to the bar.

With his non-dominant right hand, Floyd starts to trace the innard of his palm. That look of enrapturement is so strong now. As if he is only happy when observing that plane of skin. It even changes his eyes, speckles of their natural bioluminescence floating in them. Enraptured so deeply like black-hole is sucking him in.

“Did you happen to forget you have five fingers?” That does not work. Still leaning on the countertop, Floyd glides his hand contently on his palm. “Happen to be missing home?”

That knocks Floyd out of his stupor. “Huh?” On the other side of the countertop, Jade stands at the most empty bar, because customers seem to recognize they aren’t going to get a drink from such a distracted Floyd. Jade smiles politely. 

“You are staring at your hand as if you’re trying to will your fins back.” 

Jade suspects there is more to it. And he is proven correct when Floyd tights his dominant hand into a fist. The blood-lamp in his eyes dim just a bit, growing timid … no, his brother is acting shy right now? Mumbled into Floyd’s shoulder when he turns away: “I’s nothin’.”

Oh, this is going to be fun. Teeth on display, Jade interrogates, “With that look, I wholeheartedly doubt such a statement. And you are retreating like a pitiful hermit crab right now.”

“Fuck off.” 

“(Name) happens to have the day off. I happen to wonder if that has any correlation, with this sudden hand-staring. Did your hands happen to touch, going for the same ingredient?”

“I happen to wonder how many punches it’ll take till ya have a black eye.”

“Fufufufu. To think that all your efforts to get her attention and employed here; and she ends up cutting you on her first day.”

Floyd’s mood lightens. A lovey-dovey sigh escapes him. “I know. Ain’t she perfect~”

You found out only two weeks into your employment that you were getting paid more than ninety percent of the staff.

(One of your fellow line-cooks spit out of his drink when he heard you mumble under your breath during lunch rush, “twenty-eight dollars per hour, twenty-eight dollars per hour, twenty-eight –” like a momentary mantra to convince yourself to not stress too much. Apparently you are getting paid forteen more dollars than the average kitchen staff. You do not get to speculate with him why. Azul comes rushing in, scolding anyone who does not have a hundred and one percent of their attention on their work station. 

When you ask Floyd about it, he becomes uncharacteristically less fidgety than normal. How juxtaposing. People that are put-off usually squirm but Floyd goes comatose-like when bothered.) You have decided to drop it since then; why look a gifted horse in the mouth?

The money is such a darling incentive to come into work that you have yet to miss a single shift. At least, it is never boring. Not that you think Floyd would allow you to wilt in the industrial-ness of cooking in a restaurant instead of tender, domestic cooking. You two manage to have this weird mixture of fun and prodding.

And when a customer puts in an order for lobsters, you are not going to waste the opportunity.

“I’ll think I’ll name him Floyd 2,” you say, holding up the crustacean. Twitching antennas wave at you when his rubber-band claws cannot. Floyd glances at you out of the corner of his eye, golden iris like a supernova star. Just as he goes to talk, you drop Floyd 2 into the pot of boiling water. “Whoops.”

“Shrimpyyy.”

“My hand slipped,” you smile.

“Why’s Shrimpy so callous all the time? Ya got a hard shell just like this lobster. Look.” A blackish-orange, uncooked lobster is shoved in your face as you laugh.

“What do you even mean?”

“You’re a real serious type like Azul. But you were all giggles when you and Sea Otter were riding on my back over Winter Break. You danced really funny at the banquet.”

“I dance funny?”

“Yeah, like this,” Floyd starts to shimmy the lobster back and forth. You take it from him with a smile, dropping it into your pot. All four lobsters boiling, you switch your attention to cutting up the appetizer salads by your station. “Ya doing anything after work, Shrimpy?”

“Just going to Ruggie’s Spelldrive practice tonight.”

“You should come to one of my practices, Shrimpy. Way cooler than Spelldrive.”

Your knife falls on the midpoint of five or so slices of washed lettuce. Glancing up, you see as Floyd washes the rest of the vegetables, he is oddly still. His bandaged left hand clenches around the handle. Usually, he taps a rhythm to the side of the sieve. 

That is really odd because his voice is so light and carefree. But you can dissect his body language.

“No way, Spelldrive is so cool. You used magic to control the disc but it’s exactly like football.” Your world already had basketball, but Spelldrive is an entirely new thing.

“What’s football?”

“Ah, nevermind,” but Floyd presses for more answers with a smile. “It’s the same as the rules of Spelldrive. Instead of using brooms, you run. And, the control that the players have on their magic plus the second and third years who ride brooms are super impressive. The level of mastery is … on another level!”

Floyd’s face twists at that. “It’s just ridin’ a broom. Ain’t so hard.”

“I thought you, your brother, and Azul were bad at riding brooms. Y’know, sea legs and all that.”

“I’m waaay better than those two.”

“Whatever you say,” you dismiss the conversation just as you slide the cut lettuce into two bowls. You want to drop the conversation and work on the next entree. Floyd does not share that sentiment. 

Shaking water out of the sieve, he whines, “Spelldrive’s so boooring. It just a bunch of guys throwin’ around a disk.”

“And basketball is just a bunch of guys passing around a ball.”

“C’mon Shrimpyyy.” You are uncertain as to why, but you kind of don’t like the sight of Floyd frowning.

“I guess I could make the time to attend one practice.” Floyd lights up at that. Evangelical light shines in his mouth. Something boils over in you like the stove’s temperature has been turned up.

You are being eaten alive. It is not so bad. 

However, backtracking, it starts with kisses. 

Whoever is kissing you – crowding above you like a nebulous night sky and draping each warm star finger on the cold surface of your face, mandible to cheekbone – has never kissed anyone before. And it is surprisingly endearing to you. Having to guide the night to properly understand kissing is not biting. Tentatively having to pinch or pull hair when a tongue ventures too far down your throat or a pair of needle teeth bite too hard on your lips. This is how it starts.

Happiness is like the calcium in your bones. You are awfully pleased to be kissing this pair of midnight lips. Speed of kissing escalates and deescalates in intervals; sometimes, the two of you press into each other like you are afraid one of you will leave come morning before falling into slow pecks like time has suddenly become infinite. 

In this anonymous kissing, you lie happy on some hard, uncomfortable surface. But with how elevated you feel, it feels like a cloud is cradling your body. Euphoria is a well-versed painkiller. 

Peppermint burns your nostrils as the face above you gasps. Ah, despite how you had been chiding off teeth on your lips, you are the one that actually breaks skin. Three pupils of blood fall on your closed lips. Your sheepish tongue pokes out and licks red rain away. Blood falls into the sizzling grill of your mouth and you gasp in response.

Taste is categorized into five groups. This tastes like a sixth. Suddenly, all other tastes pale in comparison. The revelation makes you shudder, each bone vibrating. 

You never want to taste anything else. You will never pick up a cigarette if you get to taste this again. 

The taste gradually dims when the face finally pulls away, revealing who you are kissing. “Floyd?” Spherical blood sits, a tiny cherry, on the middle of his bottom lip. He blushes like he is sunburnt by your attentive eyes. Before you can ask why he is kissing you, Floyd leans back, sitting on his haunches.

You two are laid on a table. The table stretches so far out into the distance that it enters a void. Behind Floyd, it shrinks down until it blurs away; when you tilt your head back, it fades due to distance. The range of your eyesight cannot comprehend the length of the surface. 

Everything else is swallowed and lost to the chewing void. When you tilt your head left and right, tenebrous ebon greets you like a wall. Your eyes are magnetized to the only light source now that Floyd’s lips are too far away to kiss. 

Held in Floyd’s hand is a single fish fork. It incandesces like a lamp, and when you blink, the contour is burnt on your inner eyelids. 

Puffy, swollen lips move to speak but Floyd beats you to the punch. Out of his mouth falls an even sweeter palate beyond his blood. Your real name – in his voice, nasally, a bit lightfully high-pitched, a bit annoying and a bit liberating –  on his tongue, pronounced and said with a hefty weight. 

“(Name).”

“Yeah?” You answer, breathless from kisses and that word.

“Can I taste you?”

You think back to how each of you were feasting on each other in your liplock,  a sudden amorous meal.

“Yeah.”

Instead of him leaning down, the fish fork in Floyd’s hand starts to move. Your eyes track it with intrigue. Beyond the valley of your chest, you are caught off guard seeing your button-up undone and open like wings. Into an abyss known as the midline sternotomy, Floyd’s fish fork digs in.

A dog-esque whimper falls from your lips. The toes of your right foot curl behind Floyd when you feel a fork scraping past rib bones. Three prongs pierce convulsing muscle tissue. Lithe fingers twist the utensil. Arousal coats like goosebumps on your flesh as a section of you is taken. Eyelids half mast, you watch Floyd bring the red fork to his lips. A section of still-beating, still-drumming muscle disappears into his mouth.

This is more intense than the kissing, that you wake up on fire. 

The fire is metaphorical but the engrossing heat that blankets your entire body is not. In Ramshackle’s bed, you kick awake breathlessly. The pillow you were squeezing gives a wheeze of pain when you hug it to yourself tighter. Propping yourself on your elbows, blinking away a dream, you groan. “Oh fuuuck no.” In your chest, your tell-tale heart pounds.

You fall right back on the embrace of your pillow as it mimics the feel of a lover’s chest. Silk and the fire in your face collide in a burn. As chunks of your dream expand or delete away, you consider the heavy weight of … everything.

Floyd. 

Floyd was eating your heart. Your face smolders on your pillow – you refuse to dwell on the implications of that. 

You dwell on the implications, almost ruminating. In your quad-'apartment stomach, the rumen and reticulum digests the dream, the omasum allows the dream to filter into your bloodstream, and the abomasum finishes up your dream analysis. You metaphorically puke in your own mouth the entire morning, ruminating. 

When the taste becomes too much, you hunt down Jade. 

Stalking halls with eyes and nose trained for locating only him. And when you do, you do not busy yourself with the subtlety of a prowl. You launch right in on the attack. Stabbing him with a question even though he has a forkful of something in his mouth, “What’s Floyd’s deal?”

Caught off guard, Jade blinks at you. It is rare for such a blank look to cross his face that you are almost unnerved. Then, he pulls the fork from his mouth, chewing and dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean. My brother and Azul are not under contract.” 

“Not a real deal – ugh, Jade, you know what I mean.”

Sharpened teeth make a beastly smile. A shiver tiptoes up your spine like a spider. 

Turning back to his meal, Jade brushes off your response with, “Vagueness is one step away from misunderstanding. You should clarify for your own sake.” 

He lifts up his fork and your eyes fall to the cafeteria table. Right now, you are on a fake bathroom break during astrology. Azul and Floyd have lunch together while Jade has a separate lunch. It is the perfect time to strangle information out of him, and, like a good predator, you should not waste time on prowling or stalking but –

“I don’t understand how you can eat like that and remain that skinny.”

As a cook, you are well-versed in the balancing of meals. To be frank, Jade’s lunch probably has the most optimal nutrition in terms of carbohydrates, protein, and vegetables. However, lunches are standardly medium-sized. In front of him lies a caesar salad stuffed with chicken, BLT sandwich, and an egg salad lettuce wrap. He’s three-fourth done with the caesar salad and sure to dig into the rest.

“Metabolism is a fascinating genetic function.”

“If I can convince Crewel to make a body-swapping potion, how about a quick switch for a day?” You can only imagine how cultured Jade’s tongue is.

“You in my body and I in yours. Floyd would have a field day with that.”

“Oh my god, what does that mean!”

Jade chuckles at your boiling worry. One hundred and one spine-chilling scenarios flash in your head. Backtracking, you vow to never give your autonomy to Jade Leech of all people. It will only end in misfortune for you. Scolding, you seethe, “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. Your smile’s too creepy.”

“I’m not thinking about anything in particular. I’ll let you ruminate on it however. I’m sure you can think of much more than I can.”

“You’re the worst.” 

Jade gives a musical hum and forks the last bit of his salad into his mouth. “You know, I could ask the same question: What’s your deal?” His yellow left eye sharpens, taking in the space where you disrupt the atmosphere. Remembering what that evil star could reel out your throat (truth, awful truths you have not made peace with), you scoot back on the table’s seat. 

The mental image is odious. Jade’s hand hovering over your salivating mouth with the other holds your chin skyward; his fist clenches around a fishing line, yanking; he scoops up everything you keep concealed as you cough up blood like a weak geyser. A violent image. Yet, violence absent of any amatory intent. (So unlike your dream with Floyd.)

Putting distance between you two like a panicked crab, you mutter, “What do you mean?”

“You are good friends with Riddle Rosehearts, yes? You should know that he never indulges Floyd’s whims; he would never agree to working in the same Lounge as Floyd either. Yet, the two of you have gotten quite cozy.”

“I never voluntarily approach him. I work there for the cash.”

“Hm, perhaps. However, you do not shy away when he approaches you. Why is that? What is your deal?”

“We’re supposed to be talking about Floyd’s deal.”

“Alright. Then, let us talk about it.”

“Lets!”

“How do you find his disposition? Too wholesome, too loathsome? You two seem to be becoming fast friends … ah, but that is just my humble, little opinion. No need to look so upset.”

“Floyd is … Floyd … he’s viscera.”

“I assure you my brother has other anatomy beyond his stomach.” As Jade says, he unwraps his egg salad lettuce wrap. The smell burns your nose. You get the egg-scented message that such a description could match Jade with his bottomless stomach.

“No, it’s not literal. It’s – Being around him feels like being in the belly of the beast.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why don't you give me an example?”

“You know what? Okay.” You contemplate for a moment, thumbing through the notecards of your memory. Finally getting it, you snap your fingers. “Okay! Okay. Last week, Tuesday, during my shift. He stood behind me the entire four hours of my shift. Like I mean, stood there. Just breathing down my neck, all pissed off. I thought he was going to take a bite out of me, Jade!”

Ah, Jade remembers that day well. It was the day you had a laundry mishap, procrastinating on the chore to the point where you had no clean slacks. Nothing too interesting – so what you forgot to do laundry, that happens in the life of a busy Prefect! The only thing is:

(“Shrimpy’s wearing leggings! Shrimpy’s – fuck!”

Jade looks up from his paperwork, hovering over Azul’s shoulder. Holed up in the VIP room, he and Azul are going over the month’s numbers of hours delegated to the staff. Measuring punchcard times and figuring where to subtract or add hours for each staff member. Numbers on papers become quite boring when Jade sees the state his brother is in.

“Floyd. Do not knock over the table.” Strife laces Azul’s voice.

Sprawled on the ground, Floyd half-sits and half-kneels on the violet carpet. In his excitement, he had bumped into the table set between the two couches. Pushing himself up, the grin on Floyd’s face is mammoth and energized. “Shrimpy’s wearing leggings!”

So it seems you were, Jade would find out later. Skin-tight leggings; black with flared bottoms. You had walked in with your button-up untucked to hide what Floyd cites is the prettiest ass he has ever seen. That particular article of clothing left little to the imagination – snug so tightly on each tantalizing curve of yours.

“Is that so,” Jade asks, having yet to see you during your shift. Looking at the clock, he notices that you have only been clocked in for about three minutes. 

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Floyd breathes starstruck, hand clutched to his wrinkled shirt. 

With that, an evil thought comes into Jade’s head.

“I am sure today will be an equally blissful day for the staff of Mostro Lounge.”

“Huh? What ya mean?”

“I mean, she is not invisible. Obviously, if she is such a sight to behold, the staff will be looking as well.” 

Jade puts his own hand up to his heart, polite smile on his lips, and closes his eyes. He reopens them when the VIP room door slams shut – the wind carrying Floyd’s worsening mood and threats against the entire staff. The clock shows you are only four minutes into your four hour shift. The politeness of his smile morphs into something sinisterly serene as if a cunning plan of his has come to fruition. And it has, in just a few small minutes. 

Ah, what an unfortunate start to your shift it seems. Fufufu.)

But it was far from unfortunate for Jade, who chuckled every time he opened the kitchen door to see Floyd standing protectively behind you, crowding around you to cover you up while refusing to let you reach for anything on a high shelf. He would bare his teeth at whoever glanced in your direction for mere seconds. 

“I doubt he would have bitten you,” Jade placates, not wanting you to misread Floyd’s intent.

Emphasizing each word, you seethe, “He was breathing down my neck. He sounded one breath away from tearing apart my jugular!” Even though Jade seems to be reminiscing, he is obviously looking back through with a damaged pair of glasses – one temple broken off and one lens cracked.

You remember it much better: the wind-chill of a predator’s breath kissing your cervical; the uneven, spontaneous growls that would bloom behind your ear and have you pressing tighter to the stove; the intimate fear pierced into your spine through the morbid surgery of Floyd’s presence. You still wonder what you did to upset him so badly that he felt the need to monitor you for your entire shift. 

“Listen,” your face pulls into a frown as you stare down Jade. “Your brother has life sorted into two categories: fun and boring. I’m in a category I don’t want to be in. Just tell me what I need to do to make myself unappetizing to him.” 

So I don’t have another dream like that ever again.

“Ah,” Jade puts on a mask like he is going to tell you devastating news. “I’m afraid you’re quite a delicacy to him. Floyd has always been known to hold on tight to his food and eat in painful little bites. How unfortunate for you~” 

You hang your head like the strife of Floyd is a guillotine snapping the cervical bones in your neck. To be so consumed by him like this mentally … it’s tearing you up inside. 

“If I may pry, why are you so insistent on knowing about my brother? I sincerely hope it is not for ill intents, dear Prefect.” You are starting to catch onto the theme that most of Jade’s smiles are just threatening. 

Insistent? Out of the two of you, Floyd is the insistent one, binding himself tight around you. But – you still Jade’s words linger in your mind. Why were you so insistent … You imagine a fake reality where you answer his question with, ‘because I burnt food for the first time in my entire life this morning. Because this morning, I ate overdone scrambled eggs that crunched in my mouth like pretzels. Because I think I’ve unknowingly developed a crush on him and it hit me so hard this morning that Ramshackle would have gone up in smoke if Grim and the ghosts took a minute longer to notice the burning stove.’ 

Instead, you answer, “Just want my peace of mind back.”

It is a partial truth that Jade does not have to use hooks to create red, wet aqueducts in your throat to get the answer. No need to use magic like Shock the Heart on you; you have already had your heart-attack this morning!

“I sincerely think there is more to it than that.”

“I promise that is it. I want to know Floyd’s deal to get him off my back.”

“See, but you’re acting in such a contradictory way, Prefect. Perhaps I should use something to loosen your tongue. Holding so many barnacles of thoughts in your head must be tiring.” His left eye starts to fluctuate with pulsing gleams.

“OH! Would you look at the time! My bathroom break – it’s uh! I’m gonna be late for class! Bye Jade!!” You race off mouse-esque.

You have not seen Floyd today … which is admittedly very nice.

At least I only had to put up with one fake eel and one real eel today. Two real eels is too many, you think as you pluck a tender cigarette from the package. Despite having a closing shift, you have yet to see Floyd since he invaded your dreams. A beady eye of red is born as you pocket your lighter. Breathing in, you contemplate on this slight blessing.

Apparently, Floyd has been neglecting schoolwork for the past week. 

Whenever he was on his laptop, Jade mistakenly thought Floyd was doing his assignments. Turns out for seven nights he had been browsing GOAT for shoes and organizing each one on documents – so his typing mimicked the sound of doing assignments. Caring in a far too sinister way, Jade has locked Floyd in their room with a spell too advanced for it to be broken by one mage. 

(“I don’t quite understand why he even would look at shoes; you see, he’s low on cash at the moment. Oh, but I am truly sorry to have to separate you two tonight.” Jade apologizes as if you are upset over the matter. Your deadpan look is far from mournful. 

“However, I told him I would let him out when he has at least completed three-fourths. I believe he should be successful as long as he can find the correct playlist.” Jade’s yellow eye gleams at you, almost winking. “Plus, he has proper motivation to finish up sooner.”

“The hell –? I just asked if I could go on my smoke break.”

“Yes, but your constipated expression told me that you had more on your mind. Besides, isn’t this part of Floyd’s ‘deal’? His day to day – I thought I’d graciously keep you updated.”

You flip him off as you walk out the backroom.) Now here you sit, a wall embracing your back. 

Usually, you would stand but you think you might mistakenly pour cement in your shoes. Soreness is like molten lead in your bloodstream, weighing you down. You have never felt such agony in your hamstrings and thighs. Thus, you sit on an awful, treacherous thought. 

Would Floyd accept any study-guides you get from Ruggie? 

There are multiple faucets to why this is a cretinous thought. Wouldn’t Azul have study-guides for the twins; would Floyd swallow his pride to accept anything; did Ruggie even have the topics that Floyd was struggling with – because you have no idea which schoolwork Floyd is skimping out on! Like you said, it is a cretinous thought. For some reason though, you would really like to help Floyd – paying back nothing yet paying back everything too. 

Your blooming cloud of smoke asks Why am I acting so selfless for a selfish eel before it evaporates slowly into the oceanic air. There is not really any sensible answer hidden in your soul.

Twisted Wonderland is without a doubt as senseless as your soul. Even now, where you sit smoking is so world-shatteringly different from the typical ‘go out back and smoke’ area. The Octavinelle dorm is enveloped in water. The night sky outside of Mostro Lounge is a unique pocket that isn’t really a pocket at all. In a bubble, on the edge of a cliff that dips down into black, you sit staring at the swimming stars of fish. 

Even the classes are an oddity. The two classes you share with Floyd are Art and History of Magic. As far as you have observed, he does well in both of those subjects. So, you doubt he needs a study-guide for either. 

Which subject could it be: Astrology, Magic Analysis, Ancient Curses –

A pair of arms wrap serpentine around your shoulders. The anaconda has bound around his unexpecting prey. As a passenger to your train of thoughts, your mind goes blissfully blank. It is an odd sensation: to have been ruminating the entire day over a dream and when confronted with the only corporal part of the dream, you feel at peace..

You breathe out a dragon’s breath and a greeting, “Hi Floyd.” 

Mmmmmmph. Is the response spoken into your right shoulder. Reaching behind, you take the hand still pinching your cigarette and stiffly pat the top of Floyd’s head, sharing his tired-tinted sentiment.

You have been eating your heart out, and puking in your mouth all morning. It is an exhausting activity, anguishing yourself over a silly dream, over your dream. “Did you get all your work done?” You stop petting teal hair to return your cigarette between your lips.

Mmmmmph! Anaconda-esque embrace squeezing tighter and tighter, you are really unsure of how you should take that sentiment. It sounds more frustrated than anything – can you share in Floyd’s frustration? Heartbeat lines of waves fall over you two from the overhanging light. No, you have transferred all your strife out of like the emotion is but a colony of bees smoked out of a hive.

When tobacco and paper wrapping has burnt away to about halfway, you receive a clearer insight to Floyd’s misery. “I’m never lookin’ at stars again.”

“Ah, astrology.”

“Mmmguuuh.” 

Throat-held vibrations tickle against your shoulder. Floyd depresses his face on the ledge of your collarbone, weight so crushing like he wants to melt into you. Pinioned up in his grip, you just accept the heat of his cheek and the rhythm of his groans. 

Pretending to hold an intelligent conversation: “Totally agree with you there. Stupid scorpion.” Ash is tapped off the side of your steel-toed work boots. “I’m a –” then you tell Floyd which animal/symbol aligns up with your Zodiac.

The weight on your shoulder ebbs slowly as Floyd lifts himself up. Then, his bony chin digs into your shoulder causing you to squirm. Arms tighten to stop your earthworm motions and Floyd remarks sleepily, “Mmm, I like shrimps better.”

“You know I can never wrap my head around that nickname. I get why Grim’s a seal because he’s shaped similarly. I don’t get mine. Eels eat shrimp or something?”

“ – Or something.”

“That’s vague.”

“What? Ya want me to eat ya, Shrimpy?”

In cartoons, when a character is punched in the face, stars start to prance and bounce around their head. Floyd’s words are equivalent to a face-impacting wallop. Words crash into you with all the grace of a burning space-shuttle ripping through air. BANG! Bunny-esque stars start to dance around your head, reeling as if all those letters had condensed into a fist.

Lightning of pain branches across your face, and you only get to save yourself by doing one thing. You turn your head to where Floyd’s chin perches and blow smoke into his face. As he falls back, coughing up a storm, you quickly work to get control of the weather inside you.

The turbulent sea of a crush is something calamitous. Lunar shadow-waves tilt across Floyd’s body as you breathe in more smoke. Still coughing, Floyd grumbles, “Why do - ack - ya do that? Smells funky.”

“No asking questions if you don’t answer questions.”

Elbow protecting his nose and eyes seething, he grumbles again, “I told ya, or something.”

“Not good enough. I don’t like roundabout answers.”

“Shrimpyyy.”

“Hey, no calling me that if you can’t tell me why.”

Floyd avoids eye-contact. Not blushing but with all his grimacing teeth on display, he whines, “But it’s embarrassing.” 

“Now you have to tell me.” 

And he really does because Floyd being embarrassed is alien. You go to deal your own physical blow on Floyd. Aiming a hit that is intercepted, you gloat, “Or this little shrimp is going to take down a big eel.” 

When Floyd interlocks your fingers together, you fight back. You fight back through depressing pressure on it; you do not fight the borderline amatory gesture. His hand feels nice in yours. The lighting-shaped lesion in his inner palm that you created feels so warm.

Your mark, your heart sings. Killing that melody, you start to wrestle slightly with Floyd. Horseplaying, your joint hands press against one another, moving back and forth with each playful jab you throw at one another.

“No waaaay, you’re too weak.”

“Says the person about to be beat.”

“I’m fending you off with one hand!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Ack - ak! That’s – uuk – cheating!”

“Why am I called Shrimpy!”

“Because I’mma squeeze you like a Shrimpy!”

“Oh my God,” you laugh. “That’s an even bullshit-er answer than ‘or something’!”

“It’s true! Come here!”

“Ahahaha!” 

Sportive laughter blooms from you. Pouncing like a dog seeing its owner after a week long vacation, Floyd pushes you down onto the ground. You squeal breathlessly, “Oh my God!” The back of your head collides with his other protective palm rather than ground. You two are still entwined at the hands – his left and your right. You slap and wrench your left hand this way and that. Floyd follows with his right, trying to grab that too. A foot scuffles up to his lower stomach, pushing. No way are you going to accept a Leech squeeze without a proper fight. You two twist and squirm on the floor, laughing together. 

All the while, the caress between your right hand and his left hand remains an independent variable. Unchangeable in this discord of rapid-moving limbs. A caress of interlocked fingers.

“Shrimpy’s gonna – AH HAHA – Shrimpy’s gonna get squeezed!” A mouthful of sharp piscine teeth gleams over your face. You kick at Floyd’s intestines hard enough where his mouth goes circular instead of being crescent.

“Nuh – hahaha – no way!” Floyd makes another grab at your left arm. You twist on your side, crushing his grip on the cement below you, as your heart pounds in your eardrums. You arch in a giggling shriek when Floyd tickles your side, exposing your left arm.

“Aha!” Floyd shouts victorious when he manages a squeeze to your bicep. 

Yet, before a shrimp can be squeezed, a door opens. “(Name), your break has been over – oh.” 

Jade drinks in the sight of you and his brother like it is a recherché tea blend he has never seen before. A gloved hand covers the uniform pressed over Jade’s chest. Well, this is his first time seeing his twin have a crush so: “Oh, I am so glad to see Floyd getting along with his little shrimp. Warms my brotherly heart.” 

Frozen on the ground, you and Floyd show Jade your teeth in matching, disgruntled, and cringing grimaces. All thirty-two square enamels of yours; all forty-two triangle enamels of Floyd’s. 

“My, what sour expressions! Fufufu!”

“Why are you making that face!”

“I’m gonna shove this down your throat so you stop saying such stupid shit,” your fork moves with each word you say.

“All I said was –”

“I heard you. Do not repeat it.”

Oh, how you heard Ace, loud and clear. With all the agonizing clarity of a centipede squirming in your ear, his words made an invasion in your body. Not even a full minute ago, Ace had commented, “you and Floyd seem pretty close now.” Those words got you to instantly drop your waving hand, Floyd’s scarred palm still up and waving buh-bye to you, before you rounded on Ace with your fork. 

More frequently, between class breaks, Floyd has been visiting you during the time you and your trio have lunch. It is nothing eccentrically different. Floyd has been a persistent leech on you since Jamil Viper’s overblot … but you never reciprocated in conversation until now. Which is probably why Ace brings up the one basketball practice you attended fourteen days ago: 

“You know that one time you came to our practice, I think he played the best he has in  – FUCK!”

As Ace nurses the four indents on his throat, you fake a moue, “Oh, what was that? You have to speak clearly Ace.” 

The sound of your best friend’s hacking and your other best friends’ laughter is a tranquil balm. Enough to where you can stop stressing over the lack of distance now between (Name) (Last Name) and Floyd Leech.

Okay, maybe you never stop thinking about the lack of distance. You are a person who always backtracks into previous thoughts. Reversing time in your mind and puking in your own mouth is perpetual. Therefore, you end up stewing away in your mind, moving a spoon through a bowl of wet rice. Ah … closeness is such a flimsy concept. 

You and Floyd seem pretty close now? Perhaps.

‘Cannibalism Cooking’ is a teaching segment on how to erase the distance between self and other? Perhaps.

You think too much? Yes. 

Despite your ire, there has been a shift. It is could be in something small like how instead of cooking alive lobsters you name Floyd 1, Floyd 2, Floyd 3, etcetera; you have taken to making stories up for each lobster with Floyd, humanizing them in jest like one does with Barbie dolls, as Floyd’s lobster mourns the death of your lobster who fell into the boiling pot. It could be something large like how you will look at Floyd at times and think of how you want to devour him down to the bones — cooking him on the very stove in Mostro Lounge that you work, your own lai d'ignaure.

Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking, you repeat to yourself in threes. You try to focus on the preparation of rice.

For almost three months you have worked at Mostro Lounge and it has gone on without a hitch. Which is odd because backtracking … you think back on Ruggie and the Intra-School Competition. You have yet to see Floyd in a bad mood, and that cannot last forever. 

Eventually, the thing Ruggie foretold comes to pass. Three days later. It is like a weatherman reporting a category four hurricane, an inevitable part of the atmosphere that cannot be avoided. Floyd has fallen into one of his bad moods. And it is worse than any natural disaster.

Double swinging doors open like a maw of roaring teeth. One door happens to smack the tray out of an employee’s hand, just about to exit to the dining hall. That is what causes your eyes to flicker up. Calamity comes in the sound of crackling porcelain and squishing food. Two dishes have clattered to the floor, food wasted. Your eyes flicker up from the discord of pasta, seafood, and vegetables to see the criminal of the crime. Floyd Leech who has the meanest maw that would put any apex predator to shame.

That monstrous look? You guarantee that the credit for crafting it belongs to the sauce splattered on Floyd’s slacks and shoes. Shadows settle over the eel-mer’s face. His hand comes up to hold his own shoulder in an iron grip.

Besides you, a line-cook bemoans, “Well, it was nice knowing him.”

Every employee is aware of the rules: if one of the employees is not following the rules, squeezing is permitted. One of the unspoken rules: do not piss off Floyd Leech. Ruining his shoes is a swift way to get his mood down.

You and your fellow line-cook share a grimace. The employee – you think he might be a Scarabia or Savanaclaw student, too far away to tell the color of his arm-band – is shaking in Floyd’s presence. Watching Floyd’s mouth and eyebrows twitch and the student’s hands move in apologetic measures, you consider something heavy on your tongue. 

I really don’t have to go out of my way to help that nameless student, you think just as your mouth opens. Really, though, you only think that because you do not want to confront the reality of who you are helping. “Hey!” The kitchen staff switches their attention from the scene to you. Ugh.

“Which table was that for?”

The Scarabia/Savanaclaw student almost looks ready to fall to his knees in gratitude. Shaking, he replies, “It wa-was for Table N-Nuh-Nine.” 

“Well, clean up Table Nine’s mess. Mop’s in the supply closet,” you hope the student is sharp enough to pick up the message: stay there until Floyd is calm. “Then, get out on the floor and offer Table Nine complimentary drinks because of the delay. Move it.”

“Yes, right away!” You think he might be Savanaclaw because you have never seen a person run that fast before.

It is like those stare-down between two predators on nature documentaries. You and Floyd size each other, him pissed that you let his punching bag escape and you pissed that he caused perfectly fine food to spoil. Eye contact locks in place; confrontation like a rumbling storm cloud separates you two. Whoever yields is going to have the face and accept the bite of the other. It comes as a surprise to the kitchen staff when you look right into the sun, challenging that mean eye. Lips pulling back to grimace, it comes to an even greater shock to everyone when Floyd looks away first. When his sheepish eyes glance back up, you move a finger in a ‘come here’ motion. 

It would be ideal if he could move without kicking a wad of spaghetti across the vinyl floor … but you take what you can get. 

“Hand me that stool,” you say. Refusing to take your eyes off Floyd, you hold your open fingers out behind your back towards your fellow line-cook who has a stool by his oven. When Floyd passes some cooks, they press their stomachs up to the burning stove-plates, dangerously leaning inward to avoid the immediate danger of a grumpy eel. Still, you two look daggers at each other. 

The stool finds your hand and you set it down in front of you – right by your own designated stove . 

“Sit,” you instruct and he wordlessly obeys. 

Even while listening, he is glaring at you. A sculptor named Animosity has molded his features; he looks at you like he wants your head to fly off, probably thinking you are going to scold him like Azul and Jade do. Instead, you turn on a third burner (bottom right) and look around for a frying pan. 

You were warned by Jade and Azul around the first week of your employment, Azul’s words far-off yet intimately close too: We tell all long-lasting staff but I ask that you heed this more than the others, Prefect. It is better to leave Floyd alone when he is in a bad mood.

Floyd is silent as he watches. His lilac vest and white button-up is wrinkled with his slouched posture. Tie still undone. No hat this time around. Sitting and slouching, he still comes up to about your elbow. On the stool’s footrest, he hooks his shoes on them, just glaring and glaring at you. 

No matter, you think, retrieving slices of bread. I can deal with a childish glare. You start to lather up the slices with garlic Parmesan butter as the pan heats up gradually. But – you have to go to the refrigerator to retrieve two ingredients you do not have on hand.

Just as you go to ask your fellow line-cook to fetch those ingredients that you needed, a hand grabs your slacks. Mild surprise seasons your face as you look down. Burying itself into your black slacks is Floyd’s left hand. 

“Why aren’t ya yellin’ at me?”

“Would you like me to?”

Floyd shows you all forty-two of his teeth in a disgusted grimace. Like the mere notion of you yelling at him leaves a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Don’t ask for it then,” you scold lightheartedly before finally asking yet another favor of your co-worker. Floyd remains silent but keeps his hand attached to you.

You are baking something quick because you need Floyd’s spirits lifted before that student comes back with the mop. Heat kisses on the plain of your forearm skin as you put the bread slices on the pan. Dial up to eight, a perfect temperature for this little meal. When you get the other ingredients you need, you quickly assemble Floyd’s sandwich.

While you cook each side for four minutes, Floyd bounces his left leg in dismay. His eyes trace over your countertop surface where all your preparation lies but you make sure to keep his eyes away from the stove. His hand is content on your pant leg. 

“Here,” you say, holding a sea-turtle green plate out to Floyd. You set it down on the countertop. He eyes it with disinterest yet stops slouching. Quickly turning off the third burner, you move the frying pan to the top right to cool off. 

“Grilled cheese?”

“Oh, please, I would never make something so boring.”

Foyd’s eyes glow a bit when he is intrigued. Right now, his eyes are pricked with little firefly holes of light because of your words. That sentence motivates Floyd to pick it up. 

Which you only really consider a success when he looks at you wide-eyed, chewing on his first bite. “Tis so goe.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. I can’t understand a word.”

“This is so good.” 

Oh.

Why does your chest hurt right now? 

“Damn Shrimpy, this is really something!” Floyd praises as he takes another bite, uncaring of the heat.

Oh your bittersweet organ pounds. Maybe – just maybe – because it is Floyd, that praise settles on you a little differently than previous praise. Not that you are unappreciative of those that eat your food. As Grim really thinks anything you make tastes great, as Ace or Deuce did not come from a lineage of highly sophisticated and picky taste-buds, Floyd’s praise is different. Floyd is not as easy to please as he seems. The glaring fact that your food has brought a smile to his face causes your heart to pound in an alternative rhythm that you have never felt before.

Before you can start thinking about that more, you explain what makes the grilled cheese so different: “It’s a combination of grilled cheese, pizza, and garlic bread. The pepperoni and garlic butter add a punch, while it really just looks like a normal grilled cheese. Figured you’d like it.”

He really does like it. It is evident as he takes a gigantic bite, listening to you explain your mixture of three types of bread-based foods combined into one. Stringy cheese connects from his lips to his food. It is a little distracting how fluidly he gathers up the flexible intestines of your grilled pepperoni sandwich. His tongue and teeth are inhuman after all. 

Hell, should you turn down one of the burners? Why are you feeling so hot? You watch a slice of pepperoni disappear into Floyd’s chipmunk cheeks before he says:

“Shrimpy’s a real good cook.”

“Of course, it was why I was hired here. But … Thank you. That’s very nice to hear from you.”

“And ya made it especially for little me.”

“Hm?”

“Shrimpy cooked just for me.”

“Uuk –” Caught just like that. You were hoping he would somehow overlook it, either because of his bad mood or his admiration towards the food. Before you can open your mouth to embarrass yourself with pointless retorts, another calamity steals your attention.

You look towards the noise by the double doors, and before you lies the best sight you have ever seen at Night Raven College. Azul. Flat on his ass, having slipped because of where that student mopped. The octo-mer’s glasses are tilted and blue paints his cheeks. “HAHAHAHA!” You quickly slap a hand over your mouth so you do not join Floyd’s laughter. Though, your shoulders shake quite a bit.

It is also the best sight in Night Raven College because it allows you to procrastinate on the philosophy of how love, to you, is finding people to be in the kitchen with. 

But, mostly, it is the best because it is Azul having slipped on his ass. “Hehehe.”

Eggs in a carton. That is what they look like. Eyes in a mask of skin. A twin set of eggs, turned sideways and unblemished. Staring up at you, those eggs remain open and bulge from the concave carton made of skin. One yolk is yellow and the other is a plain olive-rust. 

There is a third part to your philosophies – the idea of Heaven that I see is a slice of you staring up at me. If love is an ingredient then the body full of love is a banquet hall. 

A dish acts as his pillow. His locks are combed back with gravity, teal and black angel hair seasoning the meal. What you have on your plate is Floyd’s upside-down head which unblinkingly stares at you. He looks coherent. You are not sure if that makes it better or worse … because it means he can hear (along with you) the words Azul is saying:

“Unadon is just one of the many delicacies made from eel. The average chef knows about nine ways to prepare eel into different meals – braised or stewed or fried or grilled. Today, the Culinary Crucible asks that you prepare this catch with your heart as the writer of the recipe.”

And what awful words they are. 

Timid, you look up at Azul while he walks the length of the room. He is dressed in his Culinary Crucible uniform; hair tucked behind his ear, cotton table cloth on his hip, sleeves of the double-breasted jacket rolled up to his elbows. He is reading off a clipboard. His glasses steal in the limited light, glowing like a kitchen knife, each motion of those lenses keen as a stab. Each step of his is perfumed with the scent of viscera. 

It only makes sense because you are in the belly of the beast.

“Cooking eels is particularly challenging. Unlike other finfish, the skin needs to be removed as soon as the eel is dead due to the slippery consistency. On average, a chef invests a number of years into mastering and perfecting the craft of making a mouth-watering meal.”

Reddish-mauve muscle layers drape across the wall like curtains. Hardly noticeable but the walls shudder with digestion. Incurvate muscle layers are connected together by towering bone pillars. In the thinner layers, between this fusion of stomach and rib-cage, reddish-mauve turns a reddish-orange with light.

Food acts as the flooring. A runny egg yolk about the size of pillow nestles into a crimson tomato that is equal to the size of a beanbag chair. Juicy ribs decorate the floor like carpeting. Baguettes underfoot crunchy softly with each step Azul takes. You look down at what is holding yourself and your chair up. 

Underneath your feet is a cucumber. Kaleidoscope-esque seeds are arranged in the shape of a sun. Foamy white-green has a moist caress on you, and, when you test it with your toes, white plasma froths up with the pressure. 

“Harriet Van Horne was an American newspaper colonist with her career starting in 1940’s. In 1956, she wrote an article titled ‘Not for Jiffy Cooks’ and, in it, she wrote the following words: Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all. Chefs. (Name). The Culinary Crucible asks that you enter with this love. Or never cook again. Please begin.”

Begin?

There is such a momentous weight before starting. Not limited to cooking, there is always a kind of second breath curled up in the first breath before one starts a new task. Breathing with more effort to steady yourself in your resolve.

The breath you take suctions in a perfume, aligned with the floral notes of sweetness found in sugar-peppered churros, sourness found in slobbering grapefruit, saltiness found in prickling flakes on fries, bitterness found in melting dark chocolate, and savoriness found in – you don’t know yet.

Cooking is like love, you reflect amorously. You maneuver with a careful approach, gently moving the plate closer to you. Keeping him upside down, you take the hook of his mandible between your thumb and index. Dentist-like, you open his mouth. Paralyzed with an active consciousness, Floyd’s tongue hangs in his mouth like a stillborn, pink mole rat.

It stretches. Stretching like taffy with cheesy elasticity, you tug it between your dull square enamels. Pulling inch by inch, you hold Floyd’s tongue with tongs made of teeth. When it disconnects from his buccal cavity with a wet, ripping sound – spuuuul-ck! – evangelical light burns from your mouth to your retinas. 

My – My bedroom. I’m in my bedroom. Gently, your teeth move off the object you were biting down in a violent grip. Salvia soaken into your pillowcase, you let out a quiet groan. You fall back down on the pillow, finding a dry patch to rest your cheek on, having just woken up.

Not good … Not fucking good at all. 

That stupid eel; will you ever get a goodnight sleep again because of him … him and stupid sweet laughter, sour eyes, salty lips, bitter touch, and savory kiss. Kiss? Kiss! You blink and reel yourself from the image your brain was starting to paint.

“No way,” you breathe flustered. “I don’t want to kiss Floyd.” You hold that thought on your tongue like a cough drop. The flavor seeps in and – “Fuck, I want to kiss Floyd.”

Grim, who sleeps belly-up, gives a little kick next to the cradle your left thigh has on him. Quieting down, you think of a conversation you and Floyd had about a month ago. You still need to answer that question – “You know I can never wrap my head around that nickname. I get why Grim’s a seal because he’s shaped similarly. I don’t get mine. Eels eat shrimp or something?” / “ – Or something.” / “That’s vague.” / “What? Ya want me to eat ya, Shrimpy?”

With determination, you reach over your pillow to your bedside table. Hand locked on the phone, your first sight of the morning is a tiny Grim blooming alive on the screen. You coo at the picture of Grim sleeping, tail tucked closed to his body and eyes drawn shut. Cutie, you think, sliding up the screen. 

Now back to being a soldier on a mission, you click on Safari and type away. Eels and shrimps. You click search. Not wanting a long hunt, you hit the first website. MORAY EEL and CLEANER SHRIMP writes itself out on a blue webpage. Relief fills you to find the article is only two paragraphs worth of reading.

Okay, Floyd. Time to see what is so embarrassing about a tiny nickname. There is no comprehensible way that his embarrassment could possibly tip your own embarrassment off the scales. Two dreams intimately cannibalistic is much harder to admit than the reason for a silly nickname. 

The two paragraphs read:

“There are approximately 200 species of Moray Eel, most of which are exclusively marine although a small number inhabit brackish water and fresh water. Its eyes are small and vision limited, so the eel relies on a sophisticated sense of smell to detect prey, which consists primarily of cephalopods and crustacea. They possess one long dorsal fin that extends from the neck to the anal fin, allowing smooth propulsion through the water. Snake-like in appearance, with wide mouths full of misshapen teeth, the Moray Eel looks ferocious but is in fact a shy, mostly solitary creature living most of its life in burrows and caves.”

Shy? You scoff at the very idea of it. Continuing on, you read the second paragraph.

“For some species, the only regular companions are cleaner shrimp, which live in a symbiotic relationship with the eel. The shrimp congregate in teams called a ‘cleaning station’ and move across the whole body of the eel – including inside the mouth – removing parasites and dead skin, which is their food. This cleaning ensures good health for the eel, so both species benefit.”

Your hands clap over your face as if the pressure can push down the geysering flush that is overriding your skin and hide away all these emotions. 

“(Name), could you retrieve something from the walk-in freezer for me?”

It has been a torturous week. Being co-workers with someone you have developed a crush on; you imagine creating a big X with your arms, you do not recommend it. It is such a delicate tight-rope walk across a boiling pot of scalding water. 

Even while working without him as a constant leech, he remains there. 

On your body and inside your body. Inside your body, it is how he infects your thoughts. On your body though is a bracelet made of teeth (beastman, merman, fae, and human). Floyd made it for in Art; even took the red string and tied it himself around your wrist. (“I don’t have any stuff for an earring so I hadda improvise. I think humans wear shark necklaces sometimes; bracelets are like necklaces for the wrists!”) There might just casually be a tooth from each of the seven dorms on your wrist. You are currently stirring scallops around in an oiled skillet, watching a golden crust form on them and admiring your recently made jewelry.

Floyd’s very odd, you think as you look up from your station. To see who needs you to retrieve something from the walk-in freezer. A pair of heterochromic eyes size you up. “What do you need me to get,” you ask. “I can’t really leave these to burn.”

“It will only be a matter of seconds. Turn the temperature down a bit.”

Lawfully, you decide not to argue against it. Jade is just one ring lower from being your boss. The blue flame lowers slowly. You walk away from the oven, keeping your apron on, and follow after Jade.

“Thank you. I cannot quite carry it all myself.”

“No problem. What are we grabbing?”

“A shipment of veal and fresh beef. Two boxes each.”

You nod your agreement to help. When you two come up upon the steel door, Jade takes the handle in his gloved hand and pulls towards himself to remove it from the first locking mechanism. Cold rushes towards you with a bear-hug-esque strength. You give one hard shiver before falling still. Jade almost seems to smile in the face of frosty air, lips quirked up.

“By the way, have you seen Floyd today? He’s always around on the weekends but I haven’t seen him enter the kitchen yet.”

“Still interested in his day to day?”

“You know what, forget I said anything,” you say, stepping in front of Jade. Like a deflating flower, your toothpick lowers to the ground in disappointment. “I’m sure I’ll see him later.”

“Who knows it might be earlier than expected.”

“Huh?”

Then, Jade gives you a shove hard enough to send you sprawled on the floor inside the walk-in freezer. You almost end up puncturing a hole in your cheek with your toothpick. That bastard!

The thing about freezers is a majority of them have plastic sheeting between the steel door and the inside to keep the temperature below zero. Long, seven inches wide stripes of plastic hang like party streamers from the entrance. Coated in ice, it is extremely difficult to see through, whether in or out. 

Which is why you do not notice until you are inside the freezer that Floyd is there too. He looks at you down on your hands and knees, confusion a mere flicker until a flame of rage consumes it. Standing up, Floyd rushes past you. At the hanging plastic and entrance, he screams.

“Jade – you fucking bas – !”

“The human body takes four to six hours to succumb to hypothermia in zero degree weather. So, take however long you need.” And though the difference is not too noticeable, the room grows a bit dimmer. The very noticeable part is the sound of the lock clicking in place.

“Jade!” A fist flies through the icy plastic, banging loud against steel. “Jade, I’m gonna strangle you when I’m out! I’m gonna break your fuckin’ terrariums!” You think you just saw the steel door dent with the force of Floyd’s kick. 

A pregnant moment of silence settles between you two. Floyd refuses to turn around. After a few more threats and punches to the door, he still remains spine facing you. 

By now, you have picked yourself from the ground, hugging yourself. All you are wearing is a thin unbutton, apron, slacks, and a thin tank top. Your shoes and Octavinelle hat might keep some heat circulating. Four to six hours? That is too generous for what you are wearing; Jade probably got that statistic about people wearing winter gear.

When another shiver races down your vertebrates and Floyd still has not moved, you quietly poke, “Um, Floyd. Do you know what’s up with Jade?”

“Ugh, I told him I had this handled.”

“What handled?”

It seems you were not supposed to hear that because Floyd finally turns around. Droopy eyes give you a fleeting, disinterested once over. Besides his usual fidgeting, he appears unbothered by the cold. Spinning around with a sigh, Floyd aims at his vitriol at you with a glare.

When he stalks toward you like a predator, you straighten up. While not entirely experienced in fights, you are not going to be the squeeze-toy thrown to an angry mongrel to be torn apart until stuffing flies like snow. The fist you were preparing loosens when Floyd simply reclaims his spot on the ground, leaning against the opposite wall. Huh?

“I’mma go to sleep. Wake me up when Jade opens the door.”

Huh!

“Wait, but can’t you get us out with magic?”

“Jade used that spell again; needs two mages to unlock it.”

A curse sizzles under your breath. It grows into a mushroom cloud of air in front of your face, crystalizing. Fuck, it is like a miniature Antartica. Not wanting to display any weakness, you only rub your hand up your left arm instead of rubbing both like you desperately want to. “Well, there’s got to be a reason why. Revenge for slacking off?”

Floyd does not answer you. He just sits with his legs pulled up and chin resting on his knees. “Look, I gotta get out of here. I’ll freeze to death.” At that his eyes grow a bit more alive, flickering up to you. A weak half-smile is aimed at you.

“Well, I don’t want a popsicle Shrimpy.”

“So, you can get the door open? Oh, that’s a relief!”

Turns out Floyd cannot get the door open because all he does is start stripping. HUH! Floyd might be a little too late in stopping you from turning into a popsicle; you remain frozen solid, openly leering with questions. You only unthaw when you see it is just his Octavinelle jacket and scarf he is taking off. Those two items he offers you in an outstretched hold. 

“I thought you could get us out of here,” you mourn with a whine.

“Unless you gain magic, I can’t. Here, it’s not going bite –”

You barely let Floyd get out another word before you are throwing on his jacket and mummifying yourself with his scarf. Screw humility, you bet half your salary that this freezer dips into the negatives at times. Oversized, his jacket falls at the midpoint of your thighs. You squeeze yourself in an imaginary embrace, trying to bottle up all your warmth and –

“Why are you holding your hand out still?”

“I don’t really mind the cold. You’re gonna start shiverin’. You should sit.”

“I’m fine.” Your toothpick flies up and down in your mouth, moving to the beat of your full body shivers. “I’ll still be able to move when Jade unlocks the door.”

“C’mon Shrimpy.”

“I’m not going to cuddle up with you for warmth.”

“It’s not cuddlin’, it’s squeezin’.”

“Same thing.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yuh uh!”

“Nuh uh!”

You end up letting Floyd squeeze you to keep you warm; it is not cuddling. 

Sitting between his long legs, accepting his arms which wrap around your waist, letting him rest his sleepy head on your shoulder as the black strand tickles your cheek. It is not cuddling because he holds you with cement arms instead of in soft amatory. Despite that, it is helping with fending off hypothermia. 

Floyd’s hands are flushed pink, almost frostbitten. When you look down at where his embrace locks, you see the crimson flesh of his phalanges and your own hands ache from just looking at them. Your hands are tucked in Floyd’s jacket sleeves. Only equipped with a button-up now, there isn’t much to keep him protected from the frigid ventilation. 

“Pu-Put your hands under my jacket.” You break a silence that has been stretching on seemingly infinitely. Snotty slugs run down your nose and you sniff them back into their home. “You’re going to lose a finger.”

“I’m fiiine,” Floyd mumbles into your shoulder. He has been drifting in and out of sleep for, well, you do not know how long truthfully. He seems to be stewing deep in thought.

It takes only a minute (you counted in your head) to get him to put his hands under your tank-top and all the layers above it. They feel unnaturally hot against your skin. Moderate frostbite. You thank him for listening then go back to counting the number of boxes in the room for a third time.

“There’s got to be some kind of loose screw or like weak area in the magic, right?”

Frustrated, you pat the steel door, nudging the plastic out of your way with your shoulders. After whittling down so many toothpicks, you start to grow fidgety. You need to go outside and take a smoke break; hell, you would forgo the cigarette just to get a breath of fresh air. 

Claustrophobia settling in, you press your frostbitten fingers over the seam of the metal door and wall. Maybe you can use something to push the lock open. “Maybe I can knock something into this spot and unlock the door.”

“Jadio sealed it up with magic. It ain’t gonna open.”

“If you’re not gonna help, zip it.”

“You talked to me first.”

“That’s it! Quiet game starting now!”

You lie on Floyd’s side, sharing his jacket like a blanket, when you murmur, “Floyd, I’m sorry about earlier.”

“... Ya lose the quiet game, Shrimpy.”

“Hehe, damn, you’re right.” You two watch your laughter float up in clouds of cold air.

It takes until Floyd gets the start of deep frostbite and you get the start of superficial frostbite when he admits softly, “I think I know something that might work.”

You look up with shiny eyes. Growing really frustrated, unshed tears have started to cling to your eyelashes. Not that they would really vanish if you ended up crying. The image of tears freezing on your face is much more appropriate. 

Poking your mouth out of Floyd’s scarf like a timid turtle, you ask, “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinkin’ –” Floyd trails off, oddly shy. He is already flushed from the chill but you watch crimson spread like an infection. He will not look at you.

His red expression reminds you of the time you took a toothpick to pick food out his teeth … wait, a minute: The shrimp congregate in teams called a ‘cleaning station’ and move across the whole body of the eel – including inside the mouth – removing parasites and dead skin. Now you two definitely match on levels of blushing. 

Why do I think of that now; you startle when Floyd’s eyes narrow down at you. 

He drinks in each atom and molecule of you with his eyes. Snotty nose, flushed face, shivering tremors all ingredients used to make the messy image that is you at this very moment. Floyd could not ask for a better sight. A little apprehensive at his intense staring, you hide your chin in his lilac scarf. He looks like he wants to take a bite of you –

“Shrimpy, I love you.”

“...

“Huh?”

“You don’t needa say it back or anything. 

“Just,” Floyd then pronounces his next words like someone speaking to customer service, making sure each syllable is clear. “Shrimpy. I. Love. You.” Your face creases at his odd tone until you hear it – the click of the steel door being unlocked. Your eyes widen in shock. “There we go,” Floyd says, reaching one hand through the plastic hangers to push open the entrance.

“Ya can just forget this – mmh!”

Reviewing and backtracking, a stomach and intestines is viscera and viscera is a stomach and intestines. Each organ of your own viscera is working itself into this violent kiss. Churning and ruminating like lustful waves. You have to digest each part of Floyd Leech in this kiss or you will starve. 

This has marinated long enough.

It is even better than your dreams. 

When you take his tongue in your mouth, each nerve on your tongue flares up in a sweet vibration. Warmth melts through your bones as you grasp at Floyd’s hair and he pulls you up by your waist. He is a bit inexperienced but he is surely reacting positively to it. 

This savory flavor is unlike anything you have ever tasted. Tagging and twisting tongues, you two devour each other like you are each other’s three star michelin feast. With harsh bites, you two switch flavor profiles with which area that is explored.

Like an inmate on death row, you take care and time with making sure each lick and bite is savored. Peppermint and meat. A laugh huffs into Floyd’s mouth, you were not expecting such a weird combination.

You two break apart momentarily, panting breaths beating out in tiny clouds against the cold. Sharing a moment where you both just want to stare at each other. His olive-brown and gold eyes are like heavenly light. There are sand-flickers of a dozen different hues in each one, all shades deliquescing together to make them glow slightly. He has such a tender look in them.

Five seconds is far too long to pause kissing; you and Floyd both agree, throwing yourself back at each other.  

Each part that Floyd touches on you ignites with a hellish fire. Not even the negative temperatures of the freezer can subdue such a flaming sensation. He cradles your organ and skeletal system with such care, moving kidney to lung to lymph nodes, moving ilium to scapula to xiphoid process. Every part of you worshiped.

You are never going to come up for air. You both have waited far too long for this. 

I’m gonna fucking bite his lips off, you think with untamed carnivorous desire. It seems Floyd agrees to the sentiment. Because he eagerly follows when you move him by a handful of his hair on the right side, black and teal threading through fierce fingers.

“Aah,” Floyd gasps when you pull.

“Mmmm,” you moan when Floyd squeezes. 

“Ah,” Jade squeaks surprised. 

You pull away first, head snapping towards the open door. Iron hot warmth burns your lips. You look at Floyd’s twin with horror when you realize you definitely have salvia coated generously on your lips. Mourning that it is not blood on your tongue, you listen as Jade says, “I felt the spell break, but it looks like I made an ill-thought-out decision to check. My apologies; please continue.”

But you cannot because – “my fucking scallops, Jade! If those are burnt, I’m going to break your terrariums!”

“My, what flaming anger. Perhaps another hour in the freezer.”

Both you and Floyd run at Jade just as he unclips his magic pen. 

This should not be that big of a deal. 

You have done this a hundred times over and will continue to do it a hundred times over. So there is absolutely no rational reason for your hands to be shaking on this avalanche level intensity. Still – looking down at them, clutched around a tiny red coffin – there your hands are … at the end of your wrists … shaking. 

There is still time to dispose of the evidence. On both hands you can count the number of people who would be more than grateful to receive this little tomb. Two of them happened to have beast features on the top of their heads, and one of the two already expressed interest in it.

(“How does this smell?”

“Shishishi, smells delicious. I didn’t know today was payday.”

“Wait! Aaah, don’t touch it please – this isn’t payment.”

“Hm,” confusion knits Ruggie’s face. “Then why bother asking?”

You cannot meet his eyes at that moment. Shuffling shoes suddenly seem more interesting as you murmur sheepishly under your breath. “It’s a little embarrassing.” Unable to elaborate further, you open up the red box. Aroma and warmth swims through the air. Ruggie’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight.

“Oh. I get it now.”

You ruminate at that moment, vomiting out all your insecurities. You barely even stop between each word. All of it pulled from you by an imaginary fish hook: “It’s so embarrassing; I’m going to throw it out!!”

“Don’t you dare.” Ruggie yells as you rush off to find a trash-can.) Eventually, Ruggie did manage to convince you to keep it in a very cop-talks-down-a-suicide-jumper with the cop being him and the suicide jumper, the bento box. 

Floyd will – backtrack, Floyd is going to laugh at it. You are just stuck on predicting if his high-pitched laughter will be mocking or amused. Perhaps, his dominant hand will come to rest on his right shoulder, miffed beyond sensibility. The bento contains a mini-hot-dog-faced bear sleeping under a blanket of rice, dyed to look like a watermelon, with dreams of corn, cucumbers, and meat floating above his head. Is that amusing or aggravating?

Waking up so early in the morning to make another lunch on top of the ones prepared for yourself and Grim … what illness have you caught, fever turning your hands into fretful shaking limbs … what happens if he hates the bear and would prefer a bunny or panda … you even stressed over picking an aquatic themed bento, but decided it against it because it was too on-the-nose for your tastes.��

If a heart is made of meaty worries and anxieties, you put your heart into this meal. Head down, roaming Night Raven’s halls, you blush hard at the thought. 

Things have been escalating fast between you two. Floyd’s shyness melted away when you two stumbled out of the walk-in freezer. His body and blood eagerly reveal his own matching hunger. You still remember last night kneading dough at Ramshackle, him nestling you from behind and pressing more and more kisses to your pulse point. Both of you devour each other in lip to lip kisses.

Love, an ingredient in the kitchen.

By the time you have arrived at your destination, your face has thankfully cooled down. There he stands. He is caught up in a conversation with Jade as Azul patiently waits off to the side. I shouldn’t interrupt them, you think and gladly grab onto that detour. If you turn down the left hallway, you can avoid this and pass Ruggie’s D period class. This vulnerability is worse than the vulnerability of being magicless. I should go. They seem busy –

“Shrimpy!” Your heart knocks hard on the muscles of your throat at that nickname. How does he always know when you are around?

Closing the gap, refusing to make eye-contact. You can feel the casual observation of Azul and Jade on you as you display what is in your hands. Stop shaking, you big baby, you scold yourself. “Floyd. This is – um –.”

“Is that for me? Aw, does Shrimpy like me or something? That’s cute — a little shrimp with a little crush.”

You finally look up. An amused, mismatched pair of eyes squint impishly at you. Miles of intestines give a teapot boiling over sound in rage. Okay, two can play at that: 

“Jade. How nice to see you! I happened to make extra for my own lunch; I noticed your habit of eating more than one meal at lunch and thought you would enjoy this.”

“My, what a gracious offer. Thank you, (Name). I will be sure to savor every bite.”

What you are offering to Jade is suddenly swiped: “HEY, THAT’S MINE!” 

Your lips quirk up, expecting that. His next move you are much less prepared for. Halfhazardlessly, he flips off the box as if to check that Jade has not eaten anything from the tomb. All of his energy drips out of him, bloodletting-esque. He almost appears paler.

His only response is a slow blink directed at you. 

“You don’t have to eat it. Grim or Ruggie will – And! And I get it! It’s pretty embarrassing. I totally get –” Your word vomit is swallowed by a pair of lips. 

Floyd does not even give you a chance to reciprocate, pulling away with laughter on his tongue. Not mocking or amused. Lovey-dovey laughter. 

Love has such a wonderful flavor. Right there, in the belly of the beast.

#floyd leech x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd leech

[junicult]

contains ; suggestive conversation (pillow talk typa stuff). sappy sappy cheesy & corny fluff! just the way i like it! established relationship — dating. two ppl in love blah blah blah. gender non specified reader. he is all i ever think about.

note ; hello! didn’t wanna look at this in my drafts anymore. boo!

“what’s the wildest thing you’ve done in bed?” you ask, smiling over the rim of your near-empty glass of wine.

your lips are well past stained at this point, dazed eyes holding a curiously eager gaze with the man sitting similarly before you.

“the wildest thing?” harvey repeats, eyebrows raised, looking around as if to search for his answer.

“yeah, like, the craziest thing you’ve done while having sex.”

you’ve been playing this little question game for hours now, concept of time nothing but a distant thought after you both downed even more glasses of wine a single bottle could fill. it’s been a while since you’ve been able to relax like this, which is well in agreeance with your boyfriend.

you’re quite tipsy at this point. facing him on your living room couch, legs crossed and arm propping your head that’s perched against the back of the couch.

he purses his lips, shaking his head in deep thought. “i dunno…i guess um,” he presses a knuckle to the upper rim of his glasses, adjusting them, “i guess the kitchen—having sex in the kitchen, probably.”

you furrow your brows, giving him a long look. “in the kitchen?” it’s your turn to repeat, this time confused.

he shrugs and nods.

“with me?” you ask, more clarification than uncertainty in your tone.

“of course with you.”

“no, i’m speaking in general, like out of everyone you’ve ever had sex with—what was the craziest thing you did?”

“i know the question. i said have sex in the kitchen.”

you stare, unwavering eye contact glued to his. you know him, you know he’s definitely telling the truth, yet somehow you were shocked. “that was your craziest sexual experience?”

“i take it wasn’t yours, huh?” he snorts, giving the contents in his glass one small swirl before he leans over and places it on the coffee table.

you laugh airily, “i mean i…told you about the ferris wheel—“

“—ah,” he cuts you off, shivering, “yes, not my thing.”

“so let me get this straight,” you mimic his previous gesture—placing the glass on the table—, using both of your now-free hands to hold out in front of you. “your craziest, absolutely wildest sexual experience was on that kitchen table?”

he flicks his gaze past your head to where you’re pointing your thumb behind you. he suppresses a quirked up lip from the recollection.

“well, i didn’t say it was absolutely wild. but if i had to pick, that would be my answer.” he murmurs, and despite the topic, he’s managing his typical flushed cheeks and nervous lip-nibble well.

“wow,” you lean back with a light laugh. “i’m honored.”

“i’m glad.” he smiles.

he reaches back for the last sip of his wine, taking a short whiff of the glass before savoring the last drop. maybe he’s biased, but your wine will always be his favorite. he never allows it to go to waste.

it’s late. his eyelids rest heavily over his pupils, contrasting your wide-awake gaze. you’re eager to move around, emphasizing most of your words with hand gestures while he’s remained put for the last couple hours. despite his tiredness, he soaks every minute he has with you just as he does with your wine.

you clear your throat. “okay, so now i have a new question.”

“alright.” he nods, leaning into his hand.

“what was the best sex you’ve ever had? it’s okay if it wasn’t with me.”

he exhales from his nose at that, smile to accompany his cheeks.

“well, it was,” he confirms, once again looking off to the side. although, he doesn’t pause long, seemingly prepared with his answer. “i would say, after you told me you loved me.”

you beam immediately. “i knew it. you’re such a sentimentalist.” you tease, reaching over to pinch his thigh. but you soften, laying your hand flat and gently soothing your thumb over his pants. “that’s mine too.”

“really? even more than the ferris wheel?”

you scoff. “oh, absolutely. a million times better.” you wave a hand dismissively, and he tries not to let the comment go to his head. “that was purely just to say i’ve done it. at least you can make me finish.”

of course his cheeks set aflame, due to the ego boost and vulgarity. you smile as he purses his lips after murmuring an awkward thank you. it’s always so amusing to make him flustered, given such an easy task.

you sigh, rolling your head back against the couch. your fingers lightly tap at your t-shirt clad stomach, eyes wandering each crease and ridge in your ceiling during a moment of peaceful silence you’ll always relax into when you’re with harvey.

it’s only then do your eyes feel heavy, and it finally dawns on you just what time it is, and how early you have to wake up tomorrow.

“it’s late,” you conquer, staying put, “do you wanna stay—“

“i’ve got a question.” he hums. you turn your head, remaining relaxed against the cushions, to find him looking off towards the dimming fireplace in front of you.

“yeah?”

“who was the…if you had to rank everyone, uhm,” he presses his knuckles into the cushion beside his thighs, readjusting himself but not without a clear of his throat. “who’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”

you allow a smile to creep onto your face. it seems purposeful he’s avoiding your eyes, the golden hue of the crackling fire causing his warm skin to glow. his lips look a little pinker due to the light—or maybe the wine—and from your angle you can see his dark brown eyelashes clearly from the space between his glasses.

you let out a faux sigh, almost taunting.

“hm, that’s a toughie.” you snicker, now readjusting to sit sideways on the cushion with one leg crossed and the other dangling over the couch. “out of the whopping four?”

he gives you a peek, subconsciously wiping his palms across his pants wordlessly.

you almost want to tease him a little longer—the shy purse of his lips making it just so easy. yet you give up quick, leaning in to snake your arm around his neck and press a hand to his cheek.

“without a doubt, it’s you. don’t even have to think about it.” you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his warm lips.

“really?” there he goes, yet again doubting himself.

“harvey, i’ve never been in love like i am with you. i’ve never been with someone and started picturing marriage after the second date.” you croon, so close you can nearly press your forehead against his. you look down at his lips. “it’s not just because of the sex—but believe me, that plays a good part. no one has known how to love me like you can.”

he swallows, mimicking your gaze and fixates on your lips as you continue, “you make me feel so comfortable, and so appreciated. you’re so sweet, and caring, and reliable. i can tell you anything.”

his fingers are warm from the fire, and he delicately uses them to push pieces of your hair that have fallen in front of your face, blocking his view of you.

just as you’re about to go on, he stops you. both of his hands finding purchase at the crevice of your neck, while his lips meet yours. not just a peck, a deep and meaningful kiss that forms all of your praises into the action. the same kind of kiss that takes your breath away, even before it started when you quietly gasp as he tugged you close. he ignores the way his nose bumps into yours, instead tilting his head to the side once you melt into him, pressing a flat hand against his chest for balance.

it’s deep and needy. the wine somehow tastes even better off your lips, his tongue selfishly stealing some of the sweetness. in some ways you think you could genuinely go stupid just from the way he kisses you.

he takes a moment to pull away, the exact way that has him sucking all of the air out of your lungs and leaves you chasing the feeling and making your brain grow fuzzy.

letting you go, he licks his lips and drops his quick gaze down to yours before looking back in your lidded eyes. he’s so impossibly skilled at taking your breath away, literally and figuratively.

“like a starved man,” you tease, masking your faint whimper with a chuckle.

“i know,” he swallows. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

he shakes his head, padded thumb softly pressing against your bottom lip where his gaze sits.

“not possible.”

#✎ drabbles ! #i’ve had this in my drafts for quite a while #i hope it’s worth the…….seven month wait dear god i’m so sorry😓😓 #if not him who else would i post🤷‍♀️ #finished with finals. thank god #harvey x farmer #sdv harvey #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #sdv x reader #harvey sdv #harvey x reader #sdv drabble

[bluegalaxygirl]

Undercover (Bad Batch X Reader) P2

Plot: Reader goes undercover at a prestigious event, her job is mainly to gather intel while the batch keeps watch.

Warning: Bad language, Drinking and Violence

Reader is female (sorry), Established relationship, Poly relationship between reader and each member of the batch. There's some brother moments and banter between the clones but no Clone X Clone stuff.

Language list

P1 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6

Taking your glass you down the rest of your drink before placing it on the bar and sneaking away from the still bickering bartenders "Good luck with those idiots around him" Crosshair groans in your ear as you turn to look over at your target and his friends, knowing you have to get his attention you walk right up to the group to stand next to your target "Senator Cheesho, I'm so sorry to interrupt but i was hoping to have a moment of your time" The group stops talking to look you up and down, some seeming annoyed that you interrupted while other looked amused, your target Antart Cheesho on the other hand gives you a fake smile and turns to fully face you, his eyes look your over with slight supposition but that soon fades turning into genuine happiness "Do not worry, the conversation was dragging on anyway" Antart waves his hand giving his friends a silent order to go away, with some sighs and groans the group walks off going to talk to other people or to grab another drink, it surprises you since they all seemed quiet close so for the senator to treat them so openly like nuisances was unexpected but it works in your favor so your not going to complain. "How may i help you, young lady?" With his full attention now you a smile forms on your face as you bow slightly "I'm F/N F/LN, an Anthropologist at Yavin Prime, I first wanted to thank you for inviting my Boss, but he couldn't make it, so they sent me instead. I've heard a bit about this building and its history but i wanted to know more, who better than the man who owns it"

He thinks for a second making you panic a little before snapping his fingers seeming to finally catch on to something "Oh yes, Mister Dune, are you one of his students?" He asks testing your knowledge to see if your telling the truth. Mister Dune was someone who was supposed to come but couldn't make it so Tech and Hunter decided you would take his place, you studied the man just in case you get asked questions so its easy for you to answer, with a raised eyebrow you tilt your head to the side acting confused "Students? Dune may be a teacher of sorts but he's way too busy for an actual class, I'm one of his collages… To be honest" You let out a laugh stepping closer you starting to whisper, the man leans in hoping to hear what you have to say with a smirk "I wasn't hand-picked or anything, Dune just through his and who ever it hit ended up going" Antart lets out a laugh leaning back and gripping his side, pulling back you let out a giggle glad that he took your lie, after calming down the man holds out his hand for you to take hoping to lead you somewhere "It would be my honor to tell you about this place and its rich history but i think it would be more beneficial if i give you a tour" A growl in your ear indicated Crosshair isn't happy about this, his job is to watch over you and the hall, he can't do that if your not in sight "Get him to stay" His snake like voice runs through you, you feel his tense state just from his tone "As much as i would love that, wouldn't it be inappropriate to see a Senator going off alone with a woman" You state gripping onto your clutch bag in order to calm your nerves, Antart lets out a small chuckle shaking his head at you while muttering under his breath "It wouldn't be the first time" You pretended you didn't hear it but the comment does make your heart beat much faster hoping he wasn't intending to do anything if alone, you wanted information but you weren't about to sell yourself out for it.

Antart holds his hand out more to you hoping you will take up his offer without asking again, his eyes plead with you silently begging, despite your chest feeling tight and your heart telling you no, you need the information, you need him to talk so you reach your hand out to take his only to stop half-way when Crosshair's dangerous growl sounds in your ear. "No, don't go with him" The snipers angry voice sends a shiver down your spine and you can tell by the slight shake in his voice that he has an itchy trigger finger. The need of the mission comes first and it seems the Senator won't give any info while staying here so you give a small smile before taking his hand, a big grin forms on the man's face as he pulls your arm to link with his before starting to walk off. "Y/N, What the Krif? .. Hunter, she's going off with the Senator.. Alone" Crosshair whispers trying to control his anger before contacting Hunter hoping for some help or backup in getting you to stop or rethink this before your out of sight. "What? Y/n i told you to get his attention not go off with him" Hunter growls into your ear, you so desperately want to answer back, say your sorry but also state that this is the only way you'll get info out of him. "Osik, Ok, Crosshair stay where you are for now, keep a look out for the other targets and any trouble. Y/n stick to the halls don't go into any rooms with him and back out if you need too. The two of you are to stay in contact with each other at all times and Y/n be careful, if she goes dark, Cross you find her." Hearing the order you slightly nod mainly to yourself just as Antart walks you through a set of doors and into a long hallway.

The floor is now a hard dark wood making your heals click and echo through the empty pace, one of the white long walls is filled completely with paintings and photos, all framed in different colors and shaped frames not one looking the same as far as you can see, while the other wall has a few doors and lamps. "Wrecker and i are at the basement but its locked" Hunter continues as a groan is heard behind him from Wrecker "I could just kick it open" The big guy groans again clearly unhappy about not being able to break things "No, we can't let anyone know where here… Tech and Echo are still shifting through all the data and trying to gain access to the basement for us, once we have everything we need be ready to head out." Hunter orders earning conformation from everyone who can answer, the com chatter starts to fade away leaving only you and Crosshair on the same channel as the others switch over to another so you can work without all the chatter. "What do you see?" The sniper asks still pissed about you going off alone "That's a lot of photos and paintings, is this wall only dedicated to this building?" You ask Antart who nods stopping at the largest fame on the wall, a large blueprint of the first ever finished floor plan but it looks nothing like the building now "Not all of it, some sections are of the process of making material's for this place, photos of the families that lived and owned it. My favorite has always been the original floor plan though, mainly because its what this building should have looked like" Nodding you look over the blueprint seeing it's much taller than the building actually is and has the addition of a swimming pool. "So, was it time and money that was the problem or structural issues?" You ask earning a very big grin from the senator who happily answers your questions while guiding you along the wall of photos and paintings.

The tour had a lot more detail than you expected from him, it seems getting him alone was a great idea after all, he talks more passionately and less formal than back in the hall, he also let your arm go seeming uninterested in any kind of physical touch with you and more interested in showing off his smarts. The real him was now in front of you, everything outside seemed to just be an act, he seems comfortable with you now so you started to ask more and more questions slowly opening him up to where he let slip a few secrets. "Sorry, i hope i'm not boring you" Antart nervously laughs while rubbing the back of his head, its taken a while but your now at the end of the hall of pictures leaving your brain almost wrecked as if you've been listening to Tech ramble for hours but you shake it off giving him a smile "No of course not, I'm actually enjoying myself. Thank you" Antart seems to brighten up at this letting out a small laugh while rubbing his arm lightly "I'm glad most people take the first chance to run off back to the party… Your different though, maybe it's your perfection but i hope you can help me out" A pit forms in your stomach at his words as the man steps closer to you making you want to step back and away from him but you manage to force your body to stay still "I know this party is supposed to be a annual gathering but its actually a secret a fund-raiser" Antart whispers while looking around checking that no one is around to hear it. "A fund-raiser?" You ask in confusion wondering two main things, one, why is this such a secret? and two, if it is a fund-raiser event why are there were no auctions or money boxes for donations? With a shy look the man rubs the back of his neck while turning to fully face you "W-well, i hate to say it but yes… I-i want to keep this secret but-"

Antart quickly grabs your arm making you gasp in surprise as the man speed walks through another set off doors leading into another hallway "Come, i want to show you something" You try to pull away but surprisingly his grip is very strong unwilling to let you go in his heist to get to where he wants to go "Cyare, you ok? what going on? where are you?" Cross yells out clearly starting to be on the move to come and get you but with your quick thinking manages to stop both men even if just for a moment "I can walk, you don't need to drag me. I'm happy to go just tell me where" You state trying to keep your voice calm and collected but there's still a slight shakiness, the Senators eyes widen in surprise suddenly aware of what he's done to make you uncomfortable while quickly letting go of your arm and stopping in his tracks "S-sorry, i didn't mean too, are you ok?" Antart asks seeming genuinely concerned "I'm fine, you didn't hurt me just gave me a shock is all" You sigh managing to calm your nerves "Get out of there, He's too grabby and who knows where he's taking you" Cross growls seeming to have stopped where he is instead of coming to get you, it's a relief since your finally getting somewhere and you don't want anyone to ruin it. "I'm really sorry… It's been so long since anyone has taken an interest in this stuff, its normally just politics and Peace talks, i can't remember the last time i could openly indulge in my hobby" With a sweet smile you place your hand on his shoulder "Its fine, I like that your so passionate about history, people and places. It's a hobby i think you shouldn't have to hide, especially in a place like this, in a building so old and rich with echos of the past, I'd love to see what you want to show me. So where are we going?"

Your question immediately brightens the man up but earns a groan from Crosshair who isn't happy about you getting further and further away from him but at the same time he knows your skilled and that you can handle yourself, taking your hand the Senator brings it to his lips placing a light kiss on your knuckles "Thank you but you'll have to wait and see my dear. I want to share something with you, something i haven't shown anyone before but i think you more than anyone would appreciate it as much as i do." Gently pulling you along this time you follow despite the sigh in your ear from Cross along with some shuffling that sounds like he's laying back down to take his snipping position again "I don't like this. Remember don't go into a room with him" you let out a simple "Ok" mainly to Crosshair but the man your walking with gives you a nod thinking your talking to him, your ok wasn't good enough for your sniper though who lets out a frustrated sigh "I mean it Cyare, I can't see you, I don't fully know where you are or how long it will take to back you up so just.. be careful and stay in contact" Your heart pounds at hearing his concern, a mixture of sadness and yet love overcomes you, grateful that he cares for you but also sad at how he's feeling. "I will… I'm sure i will love whatever it is you have to show me" You didn't mean to say those two words out loud but luckily you managed to work it into a way that didn't sound odd, Antart nods happily leading you through the halls while Cross lets out a small chuckle knowing you slipped up "Am i too distracting pretty girl? Let's call this pay back for before… Flirting to with other guys to get what you want" Cross whispers sending a shiver down your spine "Going off alone with a man… I was going to make you pay later but if you don't behave I'll start now"

Biting your lip, your cheeks start to heat up hoping and praying that he doesn't do this now, if he does its going to be almost impossible to act normal. "I'll find you once this mission is over with pretty girl and when i do… your all mine" The slight growl in his voice makes you gulp and bite the inside of your cheek in order to hold back a needy whimper, a part of you wants that so badly while the other is telling you to get to work, luckily it isn't too long before Antart stops in front of a large set of doors and pushes them open revealing a very dark room. He lets go of your hand and steps in to flick the light switch on which brightens up the room showing bookshelves of old and new books lining the walls, long glass cases line the way down to a large window with red curtains covering it, blocking out any and all light but what really catches your eye is the large handcrafted model of the building exactly like the blueprints from before showed. "Do you like it?" Your snapped out of your slight shock with a jump your eyes meeting Antart's overly joyful face "Y-yea… I'm just shocked at how detailed it is, its exactly like the blueprint, why would you hide this away? Why are the curtains closed?" You ask refusing to step into the room, the senator raises an eyebrow looking between you and the model building before taking a step closer to the model "You really are an export, seeing it all from there" The man ignores your question instead he flips a switch on the table the model is standing on making the lights inside the model light up "I'm sorry. i don't understand, if your so passionate about this then why are you hiding it?" You ask crossing your arms over your chest, the pit inside your stomach opens up again while your mind tries to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

The Senator turns the smile on his face fading into an angry frown "I've had some trouble in the past, I may be a senator but that doesn't give me enough power to do what i want. This building was supposed to be something great, the biggest, brightest shining star of the city, my goal is to make it what it should have been but the council shut down my idea, saying it would cost too much and that I've spent enough already." Antart turns back to his model building running a finger over the detailed brick and tiny stain glass windows "They said i spent too much in this already but its only a small stepping stone to making this building what it should be, they said if i could make the money back within a few months then they would give me the go ahead. Those LYING BASTARDS… i paid them that money back, and they still denied me" You jump as the man slams his fist down on the table starting to breath heavy, surprise runs though you realizing that if he is working for the separatists then he's doing it for a building of all things, risking the lives of his people and those who work with him just for a building. That shock soon turns into anger as the man continues to rant but your mind blocks it out starting to see red while your fists turn white at your side, the clutch bag in your hand threatening to break under your grip and your teeth clench shut so hard the muscles in your jaw are starting to hurt. "Pretty girl… Cyare.. Y/N" Crosshair whispers before almost yelling into your ear making you jump and snap out of your anger filled state, luckily Antart was still ranting about the council so didn't notice or pay you any attention.

Letting out a breath you look around trying to get your bearing before replaying to Crosshair "I'm ok" You whisper knowing the senator won't hear you due to his own loud voice "Osik, get your head in the game you can't zone out like that" His angry voice brings you fully back to reality seeing the senator still yelling his back facing you, giving you time to calm down but that doesn't last long as Echo's voice comes through the com making you slight jump once again "Y/N, Crosshair please tell me you have something, there's hardly anything here" His frustrated voice makes your heart sink knowing right away there isn't enough to stay but theres enough not to leave yet "We have a few transactions for metals which are used to make weapons, some of which where shipped from separatists planets but its not enough to confirm that Senator Cheesho is working with them" Tech corrects his normal calming and straight forward voice bringing a lightness to the stressful situation helping to calm you nerves at least a little. "We might be on to something" Crosshair answers for you but since Antart is still ranting loudly you manage to whisper hoping to guild the two in the right direction "Reconstruction denial" Your words cause a curious hum from Echo soon following by the sound of turning and clicking "Wow, your right, there's a lot of angry emails between Senator Cheesho and the council, it seems he took money out of the budget and was forced to pay it back… although looking through his records i don't see any money transactions to the council, not from any of his accounts anyway"

Crosshair lets out a small chuckle a clear smirk in his voice "Under the table then, it's also what he's currently ranting about, the council not giving him permission to use funding for his pet project" Biting your tongue you force yourself not to laugh mainly because you are currently watching a grown man yell and scream about how life is so unfair while owning several homes, businesses and is a part of the senate. "Hunter?" You ask hoping they have at least found something, the mans anger is getting out of hand and you can tell he's going to start breaking things soon so you don't want to be around for that "The basement is blocking all communications, Hunter will contact us every 5 minutes, if not then we are to head over but so far things have been going smoothly, there's one room they can't gain access too due to a code we can't find but the other rooms do have some evidence that will prove useful" Tech answers sounding quite confident in what the other two have found "Not enough" Echo groans clearly done with this mission and at this point your feeling the same but you can push more, maybe even get that code for the locked door, if its not in the system than the senator is probably the only one with it, he's vulnerable right now and seems to trust you so if you choose your words carefully maybe you can get him to slip up. "I'm on it" You state letting them know your getting back to work, walking into the room you make your way over to the angry Senator seeing him gripping onto the table with his back still turned to you, panting in anger he spits out curses and insults under his breath trying to catch his breath in order to continue his angry outburst. "I understand your anger, this is an amazing project that can't just be shoved under the rug. For them to just shove it aside is.. It makes me believe they really don't understand the importance of history and society, yes it would cost money and time but in the end… wouldn't it be worth it?" You state managing to calm the man down at least enough to stop yelling and start to bring his breathing back to normal.

#imagine #polly relationship #bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch x reader #the bad batch x reader #Bad batch x reader poly #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #tech x reader #wrecker x reader #echo x reader #clone force 99 #Clone force 99 x reader

[eatmangoesnekkid]

One unspoken virus that plagues female bodies due to growing up and being conditioned in a western colonial capitalist patriarchy is the lack of reverence, respect, and honoring we have for our teachers and inspirations/muses. Growing up in a world created out of the male mind and male philosophy, we are groomed to be less collaborative and more competitive and "takers," taking resources from the feminine, without acknowledging our sources, whether it's another woman/femme's work or resources of the earth. We have adapted to being sneaky and slick.

Everything is recorded. We do not get away with anything. The desire "to take" from other women is a 'bottom-feeder' scarcity consciousness. When a woman or womb owner holds this type of consciousness in her system, she births babies who become adults who do not feel like they are good enough and they further the unconscious scarcity imprint into future generations. When you take words I have written like "friendships can be deeply romantic" but do not credit me as the source of your newfound wisdom and simply shift words around, it is still recorded and felt by those with intuitive gifts. I am devoted to letting those whom I love know how much I adore them. Within the last 10 years, there has not a single close friend I’ve had who hasn't received a message of me sharing my love of them at some point. This is the lived experience the quote was birthed from. In the last 30 days, I have sent voice notes to a woman I follow on instagram who writes beautiful things about heterosexual relating and bridging the gap between women and men. I'm not a heterosexual woman, but I love reading her work. She expands my own consciousness of love so I reached out to her just to let her know how much her work inspired my own flow of love in a pure way and thanked her. Reverence for another human can be so activating for the psyche and requires extreme vulnerability, which is one reason it is so hard for most people to honor other people without feeling less than. We have forgotten that we are all Gods, that’s why. 🪶🙏🏿🕊️ Years ago, a couple from Atlanta came to visit me and my lover in Europe. When they arrived, I was the only one at home and when my lover came home from work, I met her at the door as usual—which was really no big deal to us. Ha, I will never forget when we turned around and saw the sheer shock on their faces from witnessing how we greeted each other after being a part for "only 7 hours" —one of them said. They were shocked that we had that so much reverence for the presence of the other. But to me, reverence is human. It is love. It is the nectarous flow of one’s inherent wellspring of vulnerability. Recently I spoke to a past mentor of mine from 2008 who is 22 years older than me, a mentor who I have expanded beyond in consciousness and lived experiences. I find traits of a good mentor to be one who can help evolve students beyond their own capacity and limitations, maybe begin to actually to revere the student’s growing beyond the mentor’s capacity overtime. This is what our relationship is like now. She is genuinely happy for everything I am and everything have become. In all these years, I have felt nothing but sheer love and appreciation from her at different stages of my journey. I told her how much I loved her for who she divinely is. I showered her with compliments and sent her a cashapp for no reason at all. I did not reach out to her to talk about myself. I only spoke about her --her beauty, sass, heart, worth, and value. Women who can not acknowledge the gifts and beauty of other women and only want “to take...” will always be poor in a myriad of ways. Heart-centered womanhood. Women can turn this world around when we begin to get deeply honest about what is living in our bodies and truly become women again and understand the level of power within it. Please consider revering/honoring those women who help to move you forward into new ways of being that will expand into limitless possibilities. Not become envious them, not steal their work but truly hold reverence and love and even cheer them on. Doing so helps to create more and more connection and love stories and less separation, fear and violence in our world. Everything is connected to everything, you see. The aim is to get better at loving and sweetness than we were conditioned to be at extracting and taking. When we do, a secret garden of vitality blooms abundantly, like the generous nectar that Spring and Summer summons from human bodies. Because beautiful people impact us in beautiful ways when we allow. Never forget that. --India Ame'ye

[thatmaxcontent]

East Blue Polycule, yeah? Let me headcanon-dump onto you, stranger who didn't ask for it!

They overall love one another equally (in their own unique ways), but they do have favorites (keep it a secret though 🤭🤫🫡).

Luffy doesn't favor anyone in particular, but he has the most fun with Usopp and the most 'emotional' (big quotes on that) times with Zoro.

Speaking of the Lettuce Demon, his favorite is obviously Luffy, I need not elaborate on this point. He was the first and he will be the last.

Sanji's favorites are Nami and Usopp, Nami in the more silly yet beloving sense. She'll often tease him for being such a simpy simp, but will happily give him some love every now and then. Usopp is constantly around, not just Sanji but the whole crew, and through that Nicotine Kicker kind of just got used to him being THE first one he'd go to (aside captainly stuff and such). They behave more like married folks who've been together for around 10 years most of the time, but this doesn't take away from Sanji's simpyness. Sanji simps for all his partners, but he only visibly does it with Nami and semi-visibly with Usopp. The other two are far more casual.

Nami's favorite is Vivi (surprise! I got this idea from another post, I don't remember the poster, but aaaugh I love it!!!), but out of the crew it's Usopp. Vivi and Nami are one-to-one, the blue gurl isn't dating anyone else. They keep in contact by constantly sending each other letters and SNÄILIN'!!! Usopp is Nami's crew-favorite because... well... they're besties. They bond over so much, and they're the most open in the relationship with one another (close second being Luffy and Zoro tied with Sanji and Usopp, followed by Luffy and Nami, ect ect).

Usopp's favorites are Nami (because of stated bonding) and Sanji (because of their incredible connection), but Luffy deserves an honorable mention as Usopp spends a lot of time and has a blast with him!! Sometimes they also take two-on-two time, rarely it can turn into a little bit of a quiet session, but usually they rave about future adventures and plans. Sometimes Luffy makes Usopp come up with a 'bedtime story', but it's just an excuse to see the sniper get so passionate and think about another adventure!

(This is also from that other poster, aaaaa thank you for infecting my brain with this incredible rot) Aside Vivi, Kaya is dating both Nami and Usopp! They rarely manage to talk, but when they do their sessions are long and if someone disturbs them it's game over for them!

Now onto the funsy headcanons!

Nami and Usopp browse magazines together on a daily basis (sometimes Robin joins them as the cool mother of the group), and they plan some cool and absolutely ✨️SLAY✨️ outfits none of them can ever wear.

Zoro and Sanji have a little bit of a play-competition going on constantly. They get genuinely pissed off by the other often times, but sometimes they make something a competition as an excuse to angrily make out against the kitchen wall (they definitely 'sword'fight about who tops)

Luffy doesn't completely process the relationship as a, well, romantic relationship. He's more in it for the good times, and because he loves the peeps! He's overall fine with more strictly romantically-viewed things, but sometimes he just doesn't want to. One second he will say "Zoro, crush me with your arms", the next he sees Franky and Robin (the cool parents) kissing and he goes "BLEUGH I'm going to need a shovel to transport this bullshit out of my mouth BLEHHHHHH"

Usopp is the most insecure and unstable in the relationship. He's very people-pleasery, while also trying to keep up a persona. If he ever emotionally talks it's usually to Nami, sometimes to Sanji within the relationship, but outside of it he confides in Franky (the awesome dadster) and Jinbe (the ultimately best grandpops). He tries to get better, but fails to realise how. He has fun with everyone, seeks to be around them at all times, but sometimes he can't help but disappear. If you don't see him at breakfast give him until lunch, at that point it's suitable to check-in. Who knows what the thoughts in his head have made him do.

Sanji has a dedicated notebook/ramblebook about each one of the peeps. Sometimes when he can't sleep, or someone just did something he found notable, he whips out a book and starts going "September 1st, 1989, dear diary-" oh shit, wrong fandom.

Zoro is the one that has to be dragged into things the most, he does go willingly as well but his solitude is important to him. This being said he usually doesn't mind Luffy or Usopp chilling around if he's laying back, sometimes they can ramble and do their own thing as well. A lot of the time it's just sitting and silently contemplating on things, with Usopp at least. If Luffy doesn't have stimulation for five seconds he'll gomu-gomu the ship.

Nami absolutely loves physical contact, but sometimes feels bad that she can't see her girlfriends and feel them around. In these cases she'll request some physical space until things have settled, but sometimes that can make her even more clingy. She usually seeks out Usopp, but will cling onto someone else if he isn't to be seen.

Luffy found a new appreciation for various relationship through the polycule. This also helped him think more healthily about his past, those who are gone and those who are alive. He's managed to settle some feelings, but a lot of experiences still hinder his head. He doesn't think about those things that much, and besides if he feels down he will quite literally start deflating. A quick munch of food, mention of stories or a good song will always cheer him right up.

Usopp actively leaves gifts for everyone around the ship (to the ones outside the relationship as well, but extra for the peeps). They're handmade, and they range from silly notes/drawings with cheesy jokes to actual equipment/tools and sometimes even clothing and jewelry.

I COULD GO ON FOR SO LONG, BUT IF YOU READ THIS FAR THANK YOU FOR BEING AN ENJOYER!!!! And drink some water, you're dehydrated you fucking amazing dewdrop angel baby

HAVE A GOOD TIMEZONE!!!

#one piece #god usopp #black leg sanji #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #usopp one piece #vinsmoke sanji #one piece luffy #cat burglar nami #one piece nami #text post #east blue polycule #headcanon #shipping #long post

[voidvannie]

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇

｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ 🕊️🤍 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ isabelle and jamie hard launch their relationship.

ੈ✩ ━ ❪ feel free to send an any request of things you want to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts about what your read! i would love that! ❫

May 24, 2020

@/belle.hughes

liked by zendaya, jackhughes

belle.hughes swipe for a surprise!💞

happy 2 years, jamie! thank you for two wonderful, bliss filled years of just you and me. thank you for being my partner in crime for every adventure that we’ve been on together so far. but most important, thank you for loving me despite the many challenges and obstacles that have gotten in the way. i love you, forever and always, jamie!🤍😘

ps. special thank you to z for introducing us to each other and being an amazing third wheel when needed. forever grateful for you! love you, z!

tagged @/jamie.drysdale

view all 648,384 comments

username holy shit! i called that the the 2 of them were together!

username she just put out a new yt video where she tells her brothers, and I love their reactions!

jackhughes happy 2 years, sissy and jamie! love you both!

⤷ belle.hughes we love you, jack!

username HOW DID THEY KEEP THIS A SECRET?!😲

lhughes_06 happy birthday, sissy! super sad we're not in the same state to celebrate as usual! and happy 2 years!

⤷ belle.hughes thank you, moosey!

_quinnhughes happy 2 years, belle and jamie! and happy birthday, b! i love you to the moon and back!🌛🩶

⤷ belle.hughes thank you, bubba! love you to the moon and back!🌛🩶

trevorzegras happy birthday, izzie! ps. i call maid of honor at the wedding!

⤷ _quinnhughes dude, that isn't how that works ⤷ trevorzegras that's how it's going to work. ⤷ belle.hughes @/_quinnhughes i made a pinky promise with him

elblue6 happy birthday, baby girl! your dad and i love you so much!

⤷ belle.hughes thank you, mama!

May 24, 2020

@/jamie.drysdale

liked by treverzegras, belle.hughes

jamie.drysdale to my pretty girl, the love of my life, my angel, my sunshine, thank you for two years of laughter, love, pure bliss and your continuous support. thank you for all of the adventures, the secret getaways, the late-night talks and the morning cuddles, for being my number one cheerleader at games and for loving me no matter the distance that our jobs put between us.

also, happy birthday, pretty girl. can't wait to spend another 365 days around the sun loving you! forever & always, baby! i love you, belle!🤍

tagged: @/belle.hughes

view all comments

trevorzegras at least someone gave me the credit for this new ship!🙄🖕

⤷jamie.drsydale i’ll thank you when we hit a year @/trevorzegras

username treat our girl right, jamie

⤷jamie.drysdale always

eblue6 happy anniversary! thank you for keeping a smile on our gorgeous girls face, jamie! you’ll forever be my favorite boyfriend!

⤷ jamie.drysdale thank you for giving me such a wonderful person to make smile

belle.hughes jamie, stopp!😫 happy two years, handsome. wouldn’t want to be doing life with anyone other than with you! forever & always, jamie!🤍

#🏹isabellehughes #hughes!reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #hughes!sister #jamie drysdale x hughes!sister #trevor zegras x platonic reader #jack hughes sister #new jersey devils #jamie drysdale x isabelle hughes #quinn hughes sister #luke hughes sister

[nat1volition]

sandersonposting…..forgive me they’re just too slay

#the stormlight archive #stormlight archive #shallan davar #adolin kholin #i just love their relationship your honor #sweethearts #the genuine care he shows for… #his willingness to learn and help😭😭😭 #give me #a man who is a bozo #but also considerate of mental health #can’t get better than that #brandon sanderson

[andromeda3116]

one thing that i've noticed and begun to seriously appreciate upon rereading the watch novels is --

sam and sybil are not in love when they get married.

they like each other, but they aren't in love. and i think this is why sybil seems to be kind of in the background of men at arms and feet of clay, like, sure, she's his wife and he appreciates her and cares for her but he doesn't love her -- yet.

and i think it's the knitting moment at the end of jingo when it happens to him. like that john green quote about how you fall in love slowly and then all at once? i think the moment when he comes home and she's been trying to knit him socks but she's no good at knitting and so it ends up being a scarf instead of socks -- i think that's the "all at once".

and then after jingo, suddenly sybil matters more to him, appears more in his thoughts, he's so proud of her in the fifth elephant for everything she does (she is such a badass in the fifth elephant), and it's the cigar case she gave him that is what he longs for amd desperately needs to hold onto in night watch, the memory of her. she's much more important to him and his perspective in the later watch books, and yes the doylist interpretation is that sir terry developed the relationship more as he grew as a writer because he didn't feel like he was very good at writing romance, but i like the watsonian interpretation --

that sam vimes was not in love with sybil ramkin when he married her, but instead fell madly in love with her along the way.

#discworld #gnu terry pratchett #sam vimes #sybil vimes nee ramkin #sam/sybil #i love this relationship so much #i mean. he wears the scarf proudly. no shame or bashfulness about it the way he used to be cringey at her displays of affection #and after that he wears the socks she makes for him even though she's still not very good at making them #because he loves her and she made these socks for him #it's just very sweet #i love them your honor

[gunstellations]

a little family

#buddy daddies #my art #doodles #sometimes a family is an two misfit assassins and the daughter of the guy you offed and thats a okay #but lets not talk about that #we love healing in this house and how do you heal if not after suffering #reis journey through depression and kazukis journey through grief #what 1 little girl does to a man #its 5 am all i can offer are doodles but i love them very much #i know we do reasonably get to call them cowards for not making it gay (esp at the end bc come on) #but i do love whatever relationship they have going becuase theyre just. Thats marriage babe.... #theyre not going to be doing any dating with that committment that is the most domestic ass setting ive ever seen #everyone and their mother assumes theyre married/dating and doesnt even question it because theres NO QUESTION T O ASK #only the people involved apparently dont know theyre married #ok nvm they were cowards for not making it gay. but again. theyre clearly married your honor. theyre just a little stupid

[whumpypepsigal]

#besties

#thewitcheredit #the witcher #whumpedit #whump #3x01 #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #henry cavill #joey batey #friendship #support #comfort #I LOVE SOFT MOMENTS LIKE THIS! #the witcher spoilers #the witcher netflix #my gifs #i know this isn’t exactly whump whump but i love the tenderness between these two #their relationship growth is just *chefs kiss* amazing #i love them sm your honor

[supertrxshwrites]

Thinking about how Jason only comes over as Red Hood so through your window/ up your fire escape so he doesn’t have to buzz in. When your ex finds out you’ve been seeing a guy named “Jason” he decides to come over one day screaming and banging on your door Jay takes it into his own hands and opens the door in full gear holding a gun pointed at said ex threatening to shoot him.

“Are you sure you want to do that” he says tilting his head pointing the gun at your ex

‘Y-you’re the r-‘

“ don’t come back here or I’m afraid I’ll have to shoot you” Jason says smugly

‘Youre bluffing’

“Okay” Jason shoots a near by pillar causing your ex to basically piss himself

“-fuck outta here”

Your ex just tripping over himself to leave

Jay acting like nothing happened and when you ask about hearing a gunshot he acts like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about with a smirk omg aaa

#Jason is the scary dog of the relationship #jason todd x reader #I feel like especially when yall start doing dates and a guy gives you a hard time he just hits em with a silent glare #imagine someone hitting on you and then here’s scary dog Jason basically ready to crush them in his hands #aaaaa #I love tropes like this i can’t #I feel like Jason loves scaring guys off in your honor. #headcannons #headcannon idea idk

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I think more media should work with the concept that you can still love someone you never forgave. You can still rebuild and create a new relationship with someone but also be "what you did to me was wrong and I trust you to not be like that again and want you in my life but I can't won't forgive that, won't forget the hurt you caused. I love you but there will be days I won't be able to see you because the trauma you gave me is back and I'm just so angry and sad and at least you never asked for forgiviness just to be here, just for friendship, because you know that this are things I can give you."

#that is jondaisy dinamic ok #i love them #they are besties and Jon never forgave her because he was never as scared as he was at that florest #and she never asked forgiviness because she knows that being better doesn't delete what she did #they are brothers your honor #also i do think if tim had not died it would be jontim dinamic #like Tim would never had forgiven Jon for the stalking and for all the little things that were builded #but they were friends once and I think they could've been again just in a different way #also #this is the dinamic I want for Bruce and Jason #Jason slowly rejoining the family and he and Bruce rebuilding their relationship but Jason never fully fogives Bruce #and Bruce never asks him for #tma #the magnus archives #daisy tonner #jonathan sims #characther dinamics #jason tood #bruce wayne

[bonefall]

Did Brambleclaw actually disown the Three when the secret is revealed? I don't remember this happening (then again, it's been a while) but it does bug me how all three go "Poor brambleclaw :(( He was such a good dad to us and he has to learn we're not even his biokits :(((( poor guy" while simultaneously shitting on Leafpool and Squirrelflight despite them showing them more care and affection before AND after the reveal. If he does disown them, then.... WOW is the double standard real here.

In-canon? It's something you have to approximate. They don't seem to have a concept of ""disowning"" because blood relation is taken as such an insurmountable, FUNDAMENTAL fact of life. He doesn't write them out of his little kitty will and testament, but his actions ARE disowning.

It's as if the fact he is not their biological father is an automatic disowning. From the reveal onwards, he is immediately cold, distant, and the "betrayal" is mentioned often. The Three also explicitly don't blame him for his behavior, like it's just to be expected that he's Not Their Dad anymore.

Lionblaze in particular stares longingly at him several times, really missing him. And like... that's kinda what gets my goat so much

I do believe Brambleclaw is entitled to his feelings of betrayal. I believe Squilf was ultimately in the right to lie, actually, but he's still allowed to be upset and angry that she didn't trust him enough to tell him something so important. THAT SAID, YOU ARE NEVER ENTITLED TO TREAT OTHERS POORLY.

And that's what GETS me. He isn't upset that it was all revealed in such a painful and embarassing way when this could have been avoided, or that his lover struggled with this lie for so long without him, or that he feels he's lost his children. Squilf points it out in The Last Hope-- He's so ANGRY at Squilf that he will THROW HIS FAMILY AWAY

Lionblaze seems desperate to be his son again. Hollyleaf is gone for months, and Brambleclaw is still huffing about the secret when she comes back from the dead. Squilf is fawning in the hopes it makes him talk to her again. Doesn't matter. Brambleclaw Is Upsetti Spaghetti so the narrative will never examine his role in hurting this family he apparently loved so much.

(Narrative seems to understand full well that when Squilf lies for a good reason, that doesn't invalidate the hurt Brambleclaw felt... but when Brambleclaw is upset for a good reason, it actually DOES validate what he put her and his kids through)

In BB it is explicitly a disowning. He cuts them off as his children, and they reciprocate. BB!Lionblaze does so in a ball of fury, vowing that he has ONLY a mother.

#It does start getting.... ''better'' after oots. On the disowning front #Lion seems to be fixing his relationship with him #Which... actually is something I dislike tbh #Can we pls get canon acknowledgement of the Little Pogchamp scene where he lets Ash beat his son #And downplays this to holly #Pls #Idk i just feel lion makes a better mama's boy #Really close to squilf and then like... tries to get close to Leafp too but it just. Cant click. #In this very sad but also kind of validating way #Leafp isnt his mom... she didn't raise him. But shes still his aunt. She still loves him as ferociously as she always did #The reveal changed nothing about his family. In the end. #It truly was just a reveal. #(And then he stares angrily and also forlornly at bramble) #Bramblestar is honestly a very interesting character if you choose to take him at face value #And wade through the writer favoritism #I keep coming back to him man. #Such an incredibly mundane and honest type of terrible #Always consumed by his pride and terrible lack of self esteem. Everyone wants you to be better. But you keep messing up #Your honor. I hate him. I have a picture of him in my heart shaped locket. #I am putting him in an exhibit. I am blasting him with a hose.