#Pier Burger

[williammarksommer]

Pier Burger

Route 66 series

Hasselblad 500c/m

Kodak Ektar 100iso

[carcarrot]

oh google maps we're really in it now

[chitsangenthusiast]

oh!!! 🗣️ or ❔ for the wip ask? 👀💕💕

🗣️Talk about your favourite WIP come when you want!!!!!! not to talk about it again but it's the epitome why write if you're not going to write for yourself!!!! the 5+1 that's meant to just be nsfw but also covers the span of zkka's relationship, and the title comes from my poor attempt at giving it the tiniest bit of plot, which is: if there's an event with a set start time, then zkka are gonna show up just-barely-fashionably late due to fooling around

(subplot: sokka pwetty)

❔Choose a random WIP and talk about it. marine biologist/mortician auuuu. i still need to figure out the back half of the plot bc i'm trying to add in some major supernatural elements that requires me doing research on spirits, but i keep getting more and more ideas lately and thus excitement! half of this stems from the fact that i'm blending some scenes from the piece i wrote for zkka novels 2022 (there's like three scenes that didn't make the cut for that ficlet due to word count lol), which i think just makes it more fun!!

a cranky mortician and a thoroughly unimpressed marine biologist being forced together to figure out this supernatural conundrum? featuring many spirits (including my favorite, koh!) that they have no business meeting and the weirdest looking fish that is actually [redacted]? a BLAST

(for reference: work in progress, but make it good ask game)

[benpier]

Jay Howell making some portraits outside the Quiet Life shop in Highland Park.

[mama2bears]

Starting Over Again Chapter 8

Warnings: Sexual content - not too much detail, (ONLY FOR 18+), Talk of bruises/injury, sharing shower, nakedness

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updated. Been busy with work. Next chapter will be the last chapter. I already have it finished and just need to do some editing on it. Hopefully I will have it posted later today or tomorrow. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8

“So what is everyone doing today,” Tyler asked, taking a seat next to you at the table. Most of the team had already finished their breakfast.

“Dani and I have claimed the gaming system.” Boone stated, “but if anyone wants to join us..we can split into teams!”

“I want to send up the drone, get some shots of the area.” Lily said.

“I am going fishing!” Dexter added with a smile. “I see there's a pier a few miles down the road. Maybe I can bring some fish back for dinner.”

Everyone cheered at that idea and started clearing the table to go about their day.

“What about you?” Tyler looked at you with a soft smile, “What would you like to do today?”

“Stroll on the beach, collect seashells, play in the waves a little.” you smile.

“And build a sand castle.” Tyler added with a grin. “Let's do it!”

“Really?” you asked, “You don't think it's boring or stupid or anything?”

“Darling, I'd do anything with you, and to be honest, that sounds like the perfect day.”

“Hey, Y/N..come with me to the RV for a minute?” Lily asked.

“Sure.” you stand and place a hand on Tyler's shoulder and a light kiss on his cheek, “I'll be back in a minute.”

“Okay.” he squeezed your hand and watches as you walked away, lost in thought.

“Earth to Tyler...” Boone was saying.

“Huh? What?” Tyler looked at his friend.

“I said Dani and I are going to grill some burgers for lunch. Lily is coming back for lunch, but Dexter said he wants to grab a sandwich or something at the prier. I was asking what you and Y/N are doing for lunch so we know how many burgers to grill.” Boone grinned, “But you weren't paying any attention to me.”

“Sorry.” Tyler apologized. “We'll probably come back here for lunch. We are just going to be right down there.” he motioned to a stretch of beach that was just out the front door.

“So...I hear you and Tyler are spending the day at the beach,” Lily flashed a smile, leading you into the RV. She rummaged though some boxes and pulled out a bright red bikini. “Here, you can have this...go knock his socks off.”

“Oh..I don't..I don't know about that.” You blushed.

“Girl...go for it!” she winked. “You can even change in here and just completely surprise him once you are there.”

“Thank you.” You smile ducking into the tiny RV bathroom and replacing your bra and underwear with the bikini before slipping a dress back on.

A few minutes later you and Lily come back in the house laughing, causing Tyler to raise an eyebrow, “What's so funny?” he looked at you confused.

“You'll find out later.” you wink at him and Lily giggles.

As everyone parts ways to go about their day, Tyler collects a blanket and you got a few towels before heading down to the beach.

You loved the feeling of the shifting sand under your feet. You know as the sun rises and the temperature heats up the sand will soon become hot, but now, in the early morning hours, it was a just starting to warm up from the cool night air.

“You okay?” you asked, grabbing Tyler's hand as he stumbled and grabbed his leg.

“Yeah, I am fine. Just lost my footing a little.” he gave you a smile, not wanting to ruin this perfect day. Truth was, he would be okay once they got off of the shifting sand, but right now, it was hell on his leg.

You grab his hand and squeeze it tightly, “We can go back if you want.” you offer.

“Never.” he smiled, “I am looking forward to giving you the date you deserve.”

Gradually you both make your way down close to the water's edge and lay the blanket down, tucking the corners into the sand and laying the towels out.

“How are you feeling?” Tyler asks, gently placing a hand on your left side.

“Sore, but okay.” you give a smile, “How about you?”

“Nothing that a little time at the beach won't fix.” he pulls you into a kiss, then takes your hand, “How about we go for a little walk, look for those shells you wanted to find?” he asked, “I hear first thing in the morning is the best time.”

“Well, actually....the best time for shells is after a storm. More shells wash ashore during a storm...but morning would be second best.” you grin as you two walk along the shore line, the waves washing over your feet.

“Oh there's one!” you see a big conch shell rolling in the waves.

“I got it.” Tyler reached for the shell as the waves pulled it just out of his reach.

“Ah, you missed it!” You hurry and reach down to try and catch the shell, only to have the waves pull it out father.

“Oh, well...maybe we'll find another one.” you give in, a hint of disappointment in your voice.

“I'm getting you that shell.” Tyler chased the shell further out into deeper water and made another grab for it, losing his balance and falling into a wave, his head disappearing under the wave for a moment.

“TYLER!” You screamed, “you okay?”

“I got the shell!” He grinned, holding it up.

You push though the waves and run out to the waist deep water where he was and grabbed his arm, “Oh my God, Tyler, are you okay?” you practically were yelling at him.

“Yeah, I am okay. The wave gave me a softer landing.”

“You scared me to death.” you grab his hand and help him stand, “I was afraid you hurt your ribs again falling.”

“I am okay.” he confirmed handing you the shell, “for my beautiful lady.”

“Thank you.” you kiss him softly and hold his hand back to shore. Tyler stops at the blankets and slides his wet pants off, revealing a pair of dark blue swim trunks, then he tried to pull his shirt up over his head grimacing in pain. “What's wrong?” you ask concerned.

“I am trying to get this shirt off.” he sighed, “but it's wet and sticking.” he gasped.

“Here, let me help.” you help him pull the shirt over his head and your eyes immediately go to the bruises covering his back and chest. You carefully run your hand over his chest “I am so sorry.” you whisper.

“Darling, there's nothing to be sorry for. I would rather deal with this pain and these injuries then see you get hurt.” he leaned over and placed a tender kiss on your lips, “I owe you my life. You saved my life that night.” he whispered, “I'll never forget that.”

“You saved my life that night as well.” you whisper.

“And I'd do it all over again.” he leaned in closer to you and captured your lips in a long slow deep kiss.

“Do you need to go back to the house and change?” he asked.

You smile at him, stepping back a few paces, “No...I think I'll change here.” you slide your dress up over your head, revealing the red bikini and heard Tyler suck in a breath.

“Wow...” he whispers.

“You like?” you asked.

“No...” Tyler shook his head, “I don't like it.”

“Oh...” you look a bit taken back.

“I love it!” he grinned, pulling you towards him for a kiss.

You grimace and he pulls back, “Sorry...I didn't mean to hurt you.” he leans over to look at the stab wound, “Is it bothering you?” he asked, softly.

“Little..but not bad.”

Tyler carefully runs his hand down your side and then he notices all the bruises and scars running across your stomach and up your back. “My God, Y/N...I didn't know it was this bad.” anger flashed in his eyes. “He did all this to you?” he asked.

You nodded, “Yeah, but let's not talk about him, okay?”

“Alright, Darling.” he kissed her softly. “What shall we do next?”

“Take a mid morning nap on the beach?” you grin, sitting down on the blanket and stretching out. At least a little rest.

Your side was starting to bother you, and you were sure Tyler was in pain by the look on his face, even if he denied it.

“Sounds good to me.” you laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you. As you were staring out across the ocean, he was looking at you with a grin.

“What?” you turn towards him with a smile, catching him staring at you out the corner of your eye.

“You're just so beautiful.” he whispered, kissing your lips softly, trailing his lips from your mouth, down your neck.

“Tyler...” you moan as he tenderly brushes his hand across your stomach and pausing at your bikini top.

“Want me to stop?” he asked, desire deep in his eyes.

“What if someone sees us?” you ask.

He glanced up towards the house, “We are far enough down the beach. They can't see us from the house and no one else is around. “Hold on.” he held you close to him and rolled off the blanket, laying directly on the sand and the blanket now covering you. “Better?”

You nod, “Yeah, but we shouldn't be doing this, not with your broken ribs.”

“My hands aren't broken.” he grins, pressing his lips firmly against yours in a long deep kiss. “If you want me to stop, tell me now.” he moaned, ducking his head under the blanket to remove the bikini top.

“Don't stop...”you moaned, feeling his lips and hands caressing your body.

* * * * *

“Hey Boone!” Dani called, looking at her phone.

“What's up?”

“I was just checking our YouTube feed. Someone posted videos and photos of us leaving the hotel and picking up Ty and Y/N at the hospital.”

“Yeah..we got about a million followers. They probably were interested in how T was doing. We never did update them.”

“Maybe...” Dani said thinking, “But they keep asking questions about our whereabouts. It just doesn't seem right to me. Our fans know we are chasing the storms, and if we aren't, that's our private time. They don't ask a lot about where we are if we aren't chasing. This person has posted several times a day.”

“You're right. That is suspicious.” Boone frowned. “Has anyone said anything about us being down here?”

“No. Everyone just assumes that we went back to Arkansas to rest up for a bit.” Dani informed him.

“Good.” Boone nodded.

“Should we tell Tyler?”

“No, that's just going to cause a lot of worry for no reason. As long as no one suspects we are here, then let's not worry them about it.”

Dani agreed, “I'll keep an eye on it and make sure no one discloses our whereabouts if they do see us.”

“Maybe I should do a quick video, give people a heads up?” Boone suggested.

“Yeah...good idea.”

Boone fixed his phone and made sure nothing was in the background to give away his whereabouts and then began, “Hey Hey fan base! I know we have been flying under the radar lately, but as you know, a lot has happened in a short amount of time. Listen, I need ya help. One of our team members has a crazy guy after them. It's personal business and I don't want to get into details, but we haven't had much luck with the police. That's why we've been laying low. Tyler and the team are all doing good, but listen, if you do happen to see us out and about anywhere, please don't disclose our location...for the sake of the team. We'll update you when this situation has been solved. Thank you fans! We love you!”

The sound of the door opening caused them to look up. Boone smiled, seeing Tyler and Y/N come though the door, hand in hand. Both of their hair was ruffled and they were covered in sand, breathing hard with their faces were flushed.

“Hey guys, I am just about to start the burgers.” Boone called, trying his best not to look at the couple. He wanted to say something smart, but he also didn't want to embarrass either of them.

“Yeah, I bet they've worked up an appetite.” Dani giggled.

“We are hungry.” Tyler shot them a look, “Thanks Boone. We're going to take a shower and then we'll be out.”

“Hmm hmm...no problem.” Boone held his laughter in until Tyler and Y/N had went into their room.

“Whoa boy, I bet they're going to have an active week.” he giggled and Dani playfully slapped his head, “Oh hush! What if they hear you!”

“I'll start the shower for us.” Tyler states, kissing you softly, “You wanna head back down to the beach or stay here?”

“Right now that bed is looking awfully inviting. I vote we stay here and watch a movie after lunch.” she said.

“That sounds like the perfect ending to a perfect day.”

You pull out your pajamas and a pair of shorts for Tyler before meeting him in the bathroom. He had already stripped down and was getting in the shower when he extended his hand towards you, “Join me?” he asks.

You let the bikini fall to the floor and enter the shower, where Tyler pulls you into another long slow kiss. He runs his hands slowly over your body, kissing every scar and every bruise as if he could kiss away the hurt.

“You're beautiful and I love you so much.” he muttered against your skin, moving his lips up to your neck and reclaiming your lips as his own.

Boone, Dani and Lily were already eating the burgers by the time you and Tyler finally emerged from the bedroom. All three of them passed knowing looks.

“Your burgers are over there by the grill. We did save you some.” Boone smiled.

“Oh, and don't worry about anything that might of happened on the beach today.” Lily grinned, “I didn't fly my drone over that way.”

“Oh my God, we didn't think of that!” you muttered into Tyler's ear and he laughed.

“So...um...how's the water?” Boone asked as you guys sat down with the burgers.

“Perfect.” you say.

“Well, it was a bit salty.” Tyler grinned.

“And there was a shark.” you grinned, looking over at Tyler.

“I bet that shark's name was Tyler, wasn't it?” Dani laughed and the rest of the team joined in.

“Yeah..it was...it was.” you blushed.

Once lunch was finished, Tyler stood and took your plate and his into the kitchen. “Y/N and I are going to lay down for a bit and watch a movie. When Dexter gets back, tell him we expect fish for dinner!”

“I'll help make something. Don't worry.” you tell Dani and Lily as Tyler leads you into the bedroom.

“What movie?” he asked.

“I don't care.” you crawl into bed and snuggle down into the warm covers and soft pillows.

“Okay.” Tyler flips on Pet Sematary.

You pull the covers up over your head and hide, “That's going to terrify me! The original scared me!”

“Nothing to be scared of when you got me here, Darling.” he crawls into bed next to you and holds you tight. “I think we need to put this day on repeat for the rest of the week,” he whispered, kissing you softly.

“I wouldn't complain about that.” you sigh, snuggling into his side a little closer as the movie began.

Chapter 9 (Final Chapter)

Tag List

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@i-heart-marvel @djs8891 @thedonswife13 @velyssaraptor @jrenn10 @new-author3 @hookslove1592 @smoothdogsgirl

[kaliforniahigh]

Starting to date Noah and sneakily avoiding any food related get togethers or saying you aren't hungry all the time. Redirecting date ideas to something unrelated to food. Texting with him and telling him that you aren't hungry even though he knows you only had a coffee and a muffin today. Thinking he doesn't notice because he's a guy after all. Little do you know that he's asked the guys if they have noticed how you never eat around them. Maybe he notices a calorie tracker on your phone. After he confronts you, he learns that you're extremely uncomfortable eating in front of people, in public especially, because ex's have made comments about your weight. Never being completely comfortable eating around people but he likes to leave you little premade snacks and seeing the empty container makes him feel better.

Honestly I'm terrible for having a single coffee a day, eating maybe 3 times a week. Mostly I'm just busy but there is always a little voice in my head saying that I haven't burned enough calories to be eating anything.

Thank you for trusting me with this request <3 Please seek help if you need to, we care about you and we want to see you happy and healthy!

Warnings: this story deals with eating disorder and a toxic relationship (not with Noah), hospitals and fat-shaming comments directed at reader.

Requests are closed for now.

WC: 2.3k

"You're not putting that in the cart", you heard a voice behind you.

You usually skipped the junk food isles whenever you went to the grocery store. You didn't know why you stopped this time, but you were hoping he wouldn't find you. It was just your luck that your boyfriend showed up right behind you as you grabbed a package of Oreos.

"I wasn't going to, was just looking at it", you put the Oreos back on the shelf.

"Those have around 471 calories, we don't need that going into your body", he told you as he grabbed a pack of KitKats and dropped in the cart. You wanted to tell him those have 518 calories, but you kept your mouth shut.

It was always like this, he could eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, but deprived you of the basic pleasures of life, like eating an Oreo for dessert.

You rarely went out to eat, him telling you that restaurants didn't use good quality ingredients, therefore, the food wasn't healthy and there was too much grease. Instead, you stayed wholed up in your house, eating whatever bland food he made for you.

Even now, a year after ending this relationship, you still held on to some habits, like checking the calories on things before you bought them and avoid eating fried food. But eating in front of people was the habit that was the hardest to let go of. You knew they most likely didn't give a shit or didn't even pay attention to you, but you couldn't help but feel their eyes on you, judging how much you could eat.

You hated the person he made you become. You were never like this as a kid. Your parents always made you feel comfortable in your own skin. Family gatherings always consisted of a lot of food, made and assembled on the table with love and care by your family members. And you weren't shy about eating and tasting all of it.

Now, you couldn't fathom the though of eating a whole burger by yourself.

That's why when you met Noah and his friends, you felt such whiplash from the behavior patterns you were used to in your last relationship.

You soon noticed that when they ordered food, they ordered food for real. They were a big group of people, but still, it looked like the amount of food could feed an army. You could always get away without eating in these social gatherings, everyone was so focused on their own food and conversations that they didn't even notice you not eating.

When Noah asked you out on your fist date, you specifically told him to not take you out to eat at a restaurant. You made up a lie about you having a lot of food allergies. So he took you to the Santa Monica pier, that way, you could choose whatever you wanted to eat.

You popped a couple of popcorns in your mouth - it was the healthiest option you could find - and when he finished his hot dog and excused himself to the bathroom to wash his hands, you dumped the popcorn in the nearest trash can.

That was almost six months ago and you thought you were so unsuspecting with your eating habits, that is until you were strolling through the supermarket with Noah.

He noticed you grabbed a lot of things from the shelves, looked over the packaging and put it back. By the third time he saw you doing this, he couldn't help but ask.

"Baby, what are you doing?", he asked you and noticed you freezing a little at his question.

"What do you mean?" you tried to buy yourself some time to come up with an excuse as to why you were looking over the nutrition facts on everything you wanted to buy.

"If you want anything, you can just put it in the cart, no problem", he told you as he walked closely behind you through the isle.

"It's ok, I can't eat any any of these things anyway, the calories are out of this world", you kept walking, not even noticing what you just said and that Noah completely came to a halt behind you.

"Baby", he called out to you and you looked back at him, he walked the couple of steps to reach you, leaving the cart behind and standing in front of you. "Were you checking the calories on every food you picked up?", he grabbed your face in his hands as he asked you the question.

"N-no, it wasn't that", you answered, but stuttered and he could tell you were lying.

"You don't have to look at that shit, if you want to eat it, we can buy it, the damn calories don't make a difference"

His words were sweet and you could tell he was worried, but you wished it was that simple. Your mind just can't get past all the scoldings if you even dared to take a look at the foods he forbid you from eating, or the way he made you weigh yourself weekly to see if you gained any weight.

"Can we talk about this later?", you told him in a small voice, not wanting to discuss this in the middle of the supermarket isle, or ever, actually.

"We'll talk about it when you're ready", he gave you a peck on the lips and dropped the subject for the moment. You breathed a sigh of relief and held yourself back from grabbing anything from the shelves.

After this day, Noah kept a close eye on you, noticing how you kept to your water instead of eating anything with the guys when they were over having lunch or dinner, or how you left before or after luch or dinner time whenever it was just the two of you.

So he decided to talk to Nicholas about it.

"Have you noticed anything strange with Y/N lately?" he asked his best friend when they were sitting on the couch playing Mario Kart one night.

"No, dude. Should I have noticed something?", Nicholas asked back. Noah was sure he wasn't imagining things.

"We were buying stuff at the supermarket the other day and I noticed she was looking at the packages of everything she picked up from the shelves", he started to explain, and Nicholas paused the game so he could pay attention to what Noah was saying.

"So I questioned her about it and she said something about calories, and then I realized that she was checking the nutritional facts to decide if she would buy it or not. So I started to pay attention and noticed that she doesn't eat anything around us or me", he gave a big sigh of frustration. He wanted to confront you about it, but didn't want you to run for the hills.

"I offered her some chicken wings the other night but she refused them", Nicholas pointed out to him.

"Can you just keep an eye on her? Just to make sure I'm not making things up in my head?" Nicholas nodded and assured him he would say something if he noticed anything strange.

The days went by and you kept to the same pattern, until one day when Noah was sitting in the studio, working on new music and his phone rang beside him. Looking at the caller ID, he saw it was your mother giving him a call.

It wasn't unsual for them to talk, but they never called each other, choosing to stick to text messages intead. He picked up the phone as soon as he saw it was her.

"Hey, what's up?" he greeted, heart beating faster for no reason at all.

"Hey, Noah. I can't explain right now, but Y/N is in the hospital. She's fine, but I think she needs to see you", her voice was calm and that's what helped not alarm him too much. He got up from the chair and didn't bother putting his sneakers on, opting for the sliders already on his feet.

"I'll be there in a minute", he told her.

"I'll be waiting for you at the entrance", he gave a hum of acknowledgment and hung up the phone.

His head ran over a million possibilities of what could've happened to you, but he tried to keep himself from going crazy on the drive to the hospital. Your mom said you were fine, and he trusted her.

Sure enough, she was waiting for him at the entrance, wanting to talk to him before he went into your room. He approached her and they hugged as a greeting.

"Listen, I know you've probably noticed Y/N's eating habits by now", she told him and he nodded. "She is gonna tell you all you need to know, just please be patient with her. I know you're a good man and she's gonna need your support right now"

"I'll do anything she needs me to do" he reassured her.

"I know you are. She is in room 102" she told Noah and he got inside the hospital, stopping at the reception and then being led to your room.

He opened the door and saw you laying there on the bed. The sight broke his heart. You looked fragile and a little embarassed.

"Hi, baby" he said in a soft tone, not wanting to alarm you, as he took a seat on the chair, scooting over closer to your bed.

"Hey, there. I guess I owe you an explanation", you looked at him with a guilty look on your face.

"What happened, baby?", he took your hands in his and gave you his full attention.

"Apparently I'm very anemic", you let out a sarcastic laugh. "Before I met you, I had a boyfriend", you dived straight into it, not giving you the time to talk yourself out of this. "He was very controlling, specially with what I ate. He always told me he wasn't the kind of guy to date overweight girls", you felt his grip on your hand tighten at your words.

"He made me check the calories on everything I bought at the supermarket, hence why I was doing it that day. He would get very annoyed if I even looked at unhealthy foods in front of him. He made me weigh myself in front of him every week to make sure I didn't gain weight"

You closed your eyes, tears stinging them and threating to fall down your cheeks. But you kept going regardless.

"He was cruel because he ate everything I couldn't in front of me. To this day, I really do believe it was a form of psychological torture. I finally had the guts to break up with him after talking with my mom and my therapist", you looked at him and saw his brows were furrowed, you could tell he was angry about everything this man put you through.

"But old habits die hard and I guess I haven't fully realized I'm not in that place anymore. Everytime I reach for something at the supermarket or anytime you guys order food or we have a barbeque, his voice and his insults echo in my head all over again, and I can't help it but let it consume me"

"If I'm being honest with you, I just wanna bash this dude's head in right now", he said through gritted teeth. He couldn't fathom anyone putting their partner through this kind of thing.

"I heard he moved out of the country a few months back" you told him and he was actually glad, because he was already making plans in his head on how to find this guy and give him a piece of his mind.

"What can I do to help you?", he decided to change the topic of conversation to what you needed right now. He was going to focus on you.

"Going to therapy weekly again is a must. And try to get out of my comfort zone. In another words, I really have to start and try to eat more and more regularly" you told him and you could see the gears in his head turning.

"Here's what we're gonna do: you're gonna make a list of everything you're comfortable eating, and I'm gonna make you meals and snacks with those. You don't have to eat in front of me if you don't want to, I just need to know you're eating. And then the foods that trigger you, we can work on them together along with your therapist to make sure you're safe with eating them again" he had a whole game plan set out, and your eyes welled with tears for a different reason this time.

"It might take a while" you warned him.

"We have forever to work on it" he leaned over you to plant a kiss on your forehead.

The weeks following, he kept a close eye on you, but made sure to not crowd you. He had various snacks in different containers in the fridge for you to grab whenever you felt hungry, and you made an effort to put the empty containers on the countertop so he could see you were eating them.

Therapy felt good and soon you were finding yourself getting out of your shell more and more. You and Noah went on your first dinner date, and you finally got to taste Matt's amazing barbeque. Drinking beer again was amazing, and you would never forget the taste of having a sweet treat after a long day, or after a delicious meal.

You got to experience what a real relationship felt like, how it was to have supportive people around you. You no longer felt like you were being watched and judged, instead, they encouraged you to be yourself with no shame.

[notbecauseofvictories]

Hi Sarah, I'm going to visit Chicago in a couple of weeks and when I think of Chicago I think of you. What would you recommend I visit/do?

Unfortunately, Chicago is not its best self for a couple months---while I maintain that the city is for all seasons, summer is undoubtedly when it's most alive. However, there are a couple things I will definitely recommend for the unseasonably warm spring traveler:

(1) Eat some food

A friendly word of warning: do not be tricked into eating Giordano's or Lou Malnotti's. Perhaps your companions might try to win you over with promises of Chicago-style hotdogs---do not be swayed! You must manfully resist! (Harold's Chicken is that good though, and if you're close to the one in Hyde Park, feel free to devour the three piece dinner of your choice. Cheap bottle of the too-sweet wine I preferred as an undergrad optional.)

A much better option is to find a place that serves whatever food you love, but does it really really well.

Do you like sophisticated twists on a brewpub menu? Try Moody Tongue in the South Loop

Or are you really more of a tapas person? Highly recommend mfk in Lincoln Park

Would you prefer something a little....meatier? My favorite steakhouse in Chicago is Tango Sur (though I would argue their empanadas are really the showstopper)

There's nowhere in the city that does Hong Kong-style barbecue like Sun Wah in Uptown---I just stopped by after the parade for the Lunar New Year, the duck is to die for.

Are you on the West Side? First of all, do not go to Big Star. I mean, it's fine, but....come on. I'd pick Forbidden Root instead, or head over to Pilsen for Rubi's if you can't survive without tacos.

There are so, so many different bars I would recommend. Chicago was the home of bootleggers for a reason, goddamn it. Still, if you can't get to Wang's (look, I like Violet Hour too, but sometimes you don't want to drink in near-darkness), Koval (the rare distillery in Chicago), or any of the many, many craft breweries we have in the city right now, you probably can stop by one of the many, many, many bars we have in Chicago, and get a drink anyway.

There are more---of course there are more!---but we don't have all day. So instead I will leave you with this bit of wisdom: don't eat at Navy Pier or anywhere too close to Lincoln Park Zoo. If you are at a bar, don't settle for a burger when sometimes, the chicken tenders are actually better. And if you absolutely must go somewhere for pizza, choose Pequod's.

(2) See a thing

Chicago has many things in it! So many things! A hundred thousand things! Unfortunately, I don't know what you're into, so I will just talk about them in general.

MUSEUMS: I am a devoted museum-goer, and Chicago has blessed me with an endless feast. There are the big ones, of course---the Field Museum of Natural History, the Adler Planetarium, the Shedd Aquarium, the Museum of Science and Industry, the Art Institute of Chicago. However, my favorites are smaller, more unique: the International Museum of Surgical Sciences, Intuit (though it's temporarily closed, more's the pity), the Institute for the Study of Ancient Cultures at UChicago, the Lincoln Park Conservatory. That's not even all the museums in Chicago! That's not even all the museums that I've been to. It's amazing.

EVENTS: I once joked that I was a person who needed to schedule her enrichment like a blue-haired senior, but the joke was on me---I am that person! Fortunately, Chicago supports me in this endeavor by publishing many, many different calendars of "what to do this week or weekend". Do you want to see something onstage? Well, here you go. How about some classical music? I have a trusty guide. What about non-classical music? Always go to the Chicago Reader for that. Are you thinking of catching a game? Well, we're still in spring training for the Cubs and Sox, but the Bulls are doing okay even if the Blackhawks aren't, and we've got soccer (male and female) now too!

(Unfortunately, the Chicago Sky aren't playing right now, they're my favorites.)

OTHER: Unless you are extremely efficient, coming here and eating good food, doing one other thing, is more than enough. I promise it is! However, if you have more time, I definitely recommend just---wandering around. The Loop in particular is great for this, because it's reasonably small and everyone there is busy doing things. Going places, talking on phones, getting into or out of ubers, protesting outside of the Daley center, etc. etc. It's amazing to watch, and the buildings are pretty neat too.

Or you could wait a couple months, and take the Chicago Architecture Boat Tour, which I think should be a requirement for all Chicagoans. Maybe even everyone alive in the world. Just saying.

(3) Walk along the lakeshore

Chicago offers many delights, but I really do believe that Lake Michigan and its vast expanse of water, sky and space, is a unique gift to the city. It is beautiful in winter, in spring, in storms, in sun. It is free. You can sit in the grass or the sand or amble along its broad paths for miles, looking at unexpected art installations and waving grasses and the way the beaches slope to the water; you can talk to a friend or watch bikers and joggers pass you by. In the summer, there are a dozen different stands offering warm elote or cold soda, and cheerful men on jingling bike carts that will sell you neon orange push pops. In the winter, there are still bikers and joggers but also Canada geese, and you can stare mournfully at the slate grey water and ponder existence.

It is the heart of Chicago. Nelson Algren called us an "October city, even in summer"; Carl Sandburg described us as a shirtless dude who gives great oral. Personally, I think of Montrose Beach in the setting sun of winter, the sand almost too cold to touch---and beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

[doormatty3]

Ocean Eyes: Chapter 2 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands.  You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour.  After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue.

OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 5412

The car ride is short and comfortable, the rhythmic hum of the engine accompanying the shared silence between you and Orm.

As the landscape glides past, Orm’s gaze remains fixed on the passing scenery, lost in contemplation. His hand rests firmly on your thigh, and his fingertips trace seemingly random patterns.

Arriving at the burger place near the ocean, you find yourself on a charming pier that extends gracefully over the water. It exudes a quaint and cosy charm, offering both indoor and outdoor seating. You have been here before and hope that Orm will also like it.

You leave the car and notice the bustling atmosphere, a lively mix of people enjoying the seaside ambience. Families, friends, and couples populate the area, creating a vibrant tapestry of seaside enjoyment.

As you lead Orm towards the entrance of the burger place on the pier, you can’t help but notice his gaze wandering, taking in the atmosphere. His eyes seem to absorb the sights, sounds, and smells, curious as if he’s never seen something like that.

A subtle feeling creeps in - that Orm appears somewhat out of place again. There’s something about him, a quality that sets him apart and makes him seem almost otherworldly. You find yourself unable to put your finger on precisely what it is. Still, it lingers in the periphery of your awareness like a gentle whisper of intrigue that tugs at your curiosity.

Perhaps it’s his regal demeanour or how he seems to observe the world with a depth that transcends the ordinary. You scold yourself inwardly to stop thinking about that - it’s probably nothing, only the quirks of a person adapting to unfamiliar surroundings. 

As you reach the entrance of the burger place on the pier, you turn to Orm and ask, “Would you like to sit inside or outside?”

There’s a momentary pause, and he seems to grapple with the options as if the distinction between the two is a puzzle he’s attempting to solve for the first time.

Orm stammers slightly before responding, “Uh, outside, if that’s... if that’s fine with you.” His words carry a hint of uncertainty, as though he’s seeking your approval or guidance in navigating this seemingly simple choice.

“Sure. I like to sit at the water more anyway,” you smile at Orm and then turn to the waitress, “Table for two, please, outside if possible.”

The waitress nods, responding, “Yes, please follow me.”

She leads you through the lively pier and sits you at a charming table by the seaside, offering a nice view of the ocean that stretches before you.

As you and Orm settle into your seats, the waitress hands you the menu. With a polite smile, she inquires, “Any allergies?” 

You shake your head in response and notice Orm appearing momentarily puzzled, as if the question threw him off again. Eventually, he follows suit and shakes his head.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then. Or do you already know what you want to drink?” the waitress asks, her friendly demeanour adding a pleasant touch to the dining experience.

“I’ll go with a coke,” you tell her with a smile. She nods in acknowledgement before turning her attention to Orm.

“Do you have Guinness?” he asks, his words flowing more fluently this time as if finding comfort in the familiarity of the beverage.

“Yes, sir, we do,” the waitress responds.

“Great, then I’ll take that,” Orm says with a decisive nod.

The waitress acknowledges the order with a nod of her own and then gracefully walks away, leaving you and Orm to view the menu.

You already know what you will be eating: a classic cheeseburger with extra bacon and hand-cut fries, So you cast your gaze to look at the sea, zoning out for a bit and losing yourself in the rhythmic movement of the water.

Orm’s voice interrupts your brief reverie, bringing you back to the present. “So, what’s your fascination with the ocean?” he inquires, his eyes fixed on you with genuine curiosity.

“Hm?” is your thoughtful response, a momentary delay as you process his question and look at him before answering, “I am a marine biologist - so it’s just everything for me.” 

You cast your gaze at the sea again, watching the waves as you continue to speak, “For as long as I can remember, I have had a strong love and appreciation for the ocean - of the life beneath the surface, the ecosystem, the marine creatures.” 

The sea breeze tousles your hair as you express your love for the sea.

“I think most of my fascination is with the unknown and the many misconceptions people have about the ocean and its inhabitants.” The reflection of the sunlight on the water mirrors the spark in your eyes and you pause for a short moment before continuing, “That they think some animals are just inherently evil. But we - as humans- could learn so much from the ocean if we would just listen .” 

You scoff, a touch of frustration colours your voice as you continue, “But they don’t and continue to pollute the waters - kill the life beneath the surface. Destroy ecosystems.” 

Your eyes find Orm’s again; he watches you intently, a glint in his eye that you haven’t seen before. 

”That’s why I do what I do - to help them see. To help preserve life. There is so much that could be done, but many people don’t know how - and it’s my job to educate them.”

“That’s a noble profession, an honourable calling,” Orm remarks, his blue eyes warm and calm like the ocean void of wind, “But don’t you think it is in vain? Do you really think they can learn?” 

“Yes,” your response is immediate and resolute, “No one is inherently evil. But a lot of people lack a sense of direction… And once shown, they adapt and do what they can to better themselves.”

You share a smile with Orm, sensing that he just understands what you mean.

The moment, however, is gently interrupted by the arrival of the waitress, gracefully bearing your drinks.

“Coca-Cola?” she asks, and you raise your hand, replying, “For me.”

She places the drinks in front of you before she speaks again, pen poised over her notepad, “What do you want to eat?”

“A cheeseburger with extra bacon and fries,” you declare, and Orm promptly seconds your choice. The waitress, a warm smile gracing her lips, takes note of your order and retreats.

Orm, with a thoughtful expression, breaks the silence. “You truly believe people can change, then?”

You meet his gaze, the sea breeze playing with your hair. “Absolutely,” you respond. “It’s not about convincing everyone at once. It’s about starting a ripple, making a difference where you can. Education and understanding can be powerful catalysts for change.”

Orm nods, his blue eyes reflecting both curiosity and agreement. “It sounds like you’re on a mission.”

A chuckle escapes you. “Perhaps. But it’s a mission worth undertaking, don’t you think?”

“Oh, definitely,” Orm answers, a smile on his lips as he looks at you intensely, making you blush. He leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “What led you to this path?” he asks, his curiosity evident.

You take a sip of your drink, contemplating the question. “I suppose it was a childhood fascination with the sea. The mysteries it holds, the life beneath its surface. As I grew older, I realised the urgency of preserving that beauty, of correcting the misconceptions that threaten it.”

Orm listens attentively, a hint of admiration in his eyes. “It takes a special kind of dedication to devote your life to something so vast and, at times, misunderstood.”

“The ocean has a way of making you feel both small and connected. It’s a journey of discovery, and every day brings something new,” you tell him, a wistful smile gracing your lips. 

You continue to talk, the sun beginning its descent, casting a golden glow over your conversation. The rays seem to elevate Orm’s features, and you can’t help but notice the way his straight nose and defined cheekbones are beautifully illuminated. His blonde hair, still sitting a bit tousled on his head, catches the sunlight and shines in the golden hues. 

His blue eyes look impossibly deep in the light; it feels as if the vastness of the ocean is mirrored in his gaze, and you find yourself captivated by the shifting shades within his irises. You feel like if you concentrate enough, you could watch the sunset in them, and they would mirror the exact way the water looks right now – a harmonious blend of oranges, pinks, violets, and cerulean blues.

The waitress arrives with your much-anticipated meals, placing them on the table. Both of you express gratitude with a simultaneous “Thank you.” 

You pick up your burger, the warmth radiating from it, and take a satisfying bite. As you savour the taste, you glance over at Orm, curious to see his reaction - if he likes the place you have chosen.

Orm approaches his meal with a hint of anticipation, taking a tentative bite from his burger. Watching him eat is mesmerising - he chews slowly and deliberately as he processes the combination of flavours. A drop of sauce finds its way to the corner of his lip, and with an unconscious grace, he catches it with his tongue.

You observe him nodding appreciatively, his brows lifting slightly in a silent gesture of approval. It’s as if he has just discovered a hidden treasure, and the delightful taste seems to resonate with him. Watching him eat makes you feel like he never had a burger because he looks so genuinely fascinated by it. 

He is rather cute right now, and you like how he can be so regal and serious but also so sweet and goofy.

Choosing to shift your focus, you return to your own meal, eating a few fries.

In the corner of your eye, you notice a cockroach making its way across the table. Just as you prepare to intervene, your gaze shifts to Orm, who, in a swift and unexpected move, catches the intruder in his large hand, examining it with a curious expression.

A moment of concern sets in as Orm flexes his fingers, bringing the roach closer to his burger. You fear this might lead to a deadly consequence for the uninvited guest, that Orm may crush it. 

Acting on impulse, you speak up, “Don’t kill it.”

Orm looks at you with a puzzled expression and stills in his motion with the roach still cradled in his hand. You take the opportunity to pluck the roach from his fingers gently. Bowing down, you release it onto the ground, allowing it to run away freely.

You find Orm still looking at you with curious eyes and feeling the warmth of a blush creeping up your cheeks, you mumble, “I don’t like to kill insects, even if they’re annoying.”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “Respecting all forms of life, even the tiny ones. That’s commendable.”

“Yes, I mean, some of them at least have a use to the ecosystem, and some you can even eat. Both don’t apply to cockroaches though, sadly,” you elaborate under his intensive gaze.

Orm blinks a few times as if processing your words, and then he inquires, “I heard that cockroaches are something that is eaten.”

You shake your head, offering a slight grin, “Nah. Crickets and stuff, yes, but not cockroaches since they are known to carry and spread diseases.” 

He gives you a tight-lipped grin, the expression not quite reaching his eyes as he takes another bite from his burger.

“Did I say something wrong?” you ask him, a hint of concern in your voice - his reaction worries you.

His response is immediate as he lays down the burger and reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers. “No. No. Not at all.” His blue eyes reflect sincerity and openness. “I was just caught off guard since I thought differently. But everything is fine.”

You smile, relieved by his reassurance, squeezing his hand slightly. “Thank you, Orm.” 

As you both finish your meals in comfortable silence, the lighting on the pier gradually comes to life, and they begin to flicker one after another, creating a gentle, welcoming ambience.

It casts a subtle radiance on Orm’s features, the regal quality becoming more pronounced as the gentle play of shadows enhances the lines of his face.

Orm’s gaze wanders, absorbing the evolving spectacle of lights around the pier. His eyes, reflecting the warm glow, sweep across the surroundings, capturing the flickering bulbs, the gentle sway of boats, and the distant outlines of structures bathed in the soft radiance of the evening.

A subtle appreciation plays on his features as he takes in the scene, and you find yourself captivated by the way his eyes navigate the transformed pier. 

The waitress returns to your table, a friendly smile on her face as she collects the empty plates. She glances at both of you. “Is there anything else you’d like?”

Your eyes meet Orm’s briefly, and then you turn back to the waitress, “No, thank you. Just the bill, please.”

With a nod, the waitress acknowledges your request, “Alright, I’ll bring that right over.” She takes the empty plates and heads back toward the bustling interior of the restaurant.

The waitress returns with the bill, a small leather folder clasped in her hand. Opening it to reveal the receipt, she glances between you and Orm, asking, “Will you be paying together, or should I split it?”

Before you can respond, Orm steps in, a subtle determination in his voice, “I’ll take care of it.” 

You shoot him a grateful look but quickly add, “Orm, you really don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he insists, his eyes, intense and unwavering, meet yours.

A warmth settles in your chest at his insistence, and you feel a blush creeping onto your cheeks in response to his intensity.

The waitress informs him of the total cost, and Orm reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handful of coins. The currency appears unfamiliar - distinctive, with intricate patterns and unique markings, causing both you and the waitress to exchange curious glances.

Breaking the momentary silence, the waitress gently informs Orm, “Sorry, we only accept dollars here, not foreign currency.”

An almost imperceptible furrow forms on Orm’s brow as he looks down at the money in his hand, and a moment of realisation dawns upon him. You can almost sense his internal struggle, caught between the unfamiliarity of the situation and the desire to settle the bill.

Without saying anything or making a huge deal, you smoothly reach into your wallet, pulling out enough dollars to cover the bill and a generous tip. With a friendly smile, you hand the money to the waitress.

“Have a good evening,” you add warmly, and the waitress reciprocates the sentiment. As she departs, you turn your attention back to Orm, offering an encouraging smile.

Orm’s eyes meet yours, appreciative yet carrying a hint of vulnerability. 

“I’m sorry,” Orm says, a tinge of frustration and embarrassment evident in his voice. “I forgot about that.”

You respond with a reassuring smile, and without a second thought, you reach out, brushing your hand gently over his cheek. When you see the way his eyes widen a bit and he looks at you in wonder, you know that it was the right call.

“Oh, don’t worry, I get it,” you assure him, your fingers tracing the contours of his cheek, noting the texture of his stubble beneath your touch and the warmth he emanates. “You can get the next one,” you suggest, pulling back your hand.

Orm responds with a toothy smile, genuine and warm, the expression reaching all the way to his eyes. 

You both get up and leave the restaurant to stroll along the pier, your hand brushing on Orms as you walk. Part of you would like to just take his hand - you have kissed, after all, but you’re not sure if that’s fine for him.

“So, by being from far away, you meant Europe then?” you inquire, your curiosity getting the better of you as that was the first thing that came to mind. 

Orm nods in agreement, and you decide not to press further, sensing his reluctance to delve into the topic.

The pier gradually becomes less crowded as you and Orm move towards its edge, and the rhythmic sound of the waves beneath grows louder in turn. The lights along the pier continue to illuminate the surroundings, creating a gentle glow that adds to the enchanting atmosphere.

The sky, now mainly adorned in shades of deep blue, cradles the last remnants of daylight along the horizon. A narrow strip of it retains a warm afterglow, casting the tranquil sea in a soft gleam.

You and Orm come to a halt as you reach the end of the pier, overlooking the water.

The sea reflects the transitioning sky, creating a mesmerising dance of colours on its surface. As the daylight wanes, the sea takes on a deep, mysterious navy blue, mirroring the vast expanse above. The rhythmic movements of the waves hold a subtle elegance, their crests catching the remnants of sunlight and transforming them into liquid silver.

The small ripples sparkle in the fading light, creating a celestial reflection that mirrors the ever-changing hues of the sky and the soft lights on the pier.

As you stand at the edge of the sea together, gazing out into the expansive ocean, Orm takes your hand - warm, large, and unexpectedly soft with his long fingers. 

Reflecting on the day, you realise it has been unexpectedly beautiful - it still is. When you first met Orm on the beach, you couldn’t have anticipated this.

You have never met someone who shares the same profound love for the sea, but with him, it is a connection that flows effortlessly like a smooth, unhurried river.

Orm’s voice, quiet yet resonant, breaks the stillness. “Thank you,” he says, his eyes fixed on the ever-moving sea. 

You turn to face him, your own expression reflecting curiosity. “For what?” you inquire, uncertain about the reason for his gratitude.

“For the day,” he responds, his gaze still tethered to the horizon. The soft glow of twilight illuminates his features, allowing you to trace the contours of his side profile with your eyes.

A genuine smile graces your lips as you squeeze his hand in acknowledgement, unsure of how to respond.

The comfortable silence wraps around you, lingering for a moment before you gather the courage to break it. 

“It doesn’t have to be over yet, you know,” you say, the words escaping your lips with a hint of nervous excitement.

Orm turns his head swiftly to face you, raising one eyebrow in curiosity. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you continue, feeling a bit breathless, “I think you’d like the aquarium I own.”

Your heart beats a bit faster because, oh god, you just invited Orm over to your place - handsome and a tad strange Orm, with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen.

A warm smile graces Orm’s features as he nods in agreement. “Lead the way.”

______

Street lanterns and the soft glow of stars guide the way as you drive over the coastal road to your house. 

As you approach, the one-story building comes into view, overlooking the ocean below, with stairs leading down to a dock, a garage for water vessels and the beach. Even in the dark, it is apparent that it is made from dark wood that harmonises with the natural surroundings. 

“Well, here we are,” you say to Orm and turn off the engine after you park your car.

Both of you step out, and you watch as Orm takes in the details of your house.

“This is really nice,” he says, looking at you, a fondness in his blue eyes.

“Thank you,” you reply, smiling. “Wait until you see the inside.”

With that, you lead the way to the door, unlocking it to welcome both of you inside. Turning on the lights, you close the door behind Orm before taking off your shoes.

You notice a brief moment of confusion on Orm’s face, his brows furrowed as if he’s perplexed by the act of removing shoes indoors. Nonetheless, he follows your example, mirroring your actions with a subtle curiosity.

You love your house, as it’s a reflection of who you are. The walls are adorned with various pictures and paintings, capturing scenic views and wildlife scenes. A massive windowfront facing the sea with garden furniture outside offers a serene spot for looking at the ocean. For rainy days, you have a cosy sofa perfectly positioned to enjoy the view.

Orm’s eyes wander around your home, curiosity evident in his gaze. They trace over the pictures, examining the various trinkets and charms that give your house its character. His gaze eventually settles on the highlight of your home - a huge aquarium that spans an entire wall.

When you built it, you decided upon those dimensions to allow for a diverse and thriving marine ecosystem.

As the overhead lights cast a gentle glow, the aquarium reveals a spectrum of colours and movements. Coral formations, in various shapes and hues, provide shelter for a multitude of fish. Small, darting figures in every shade imaginable navigate the intricate structure, their scales catching the light and creating a dazzling dance of colours. Seahorses, graceful and delicate, cling to the swaying fronds of seaweed.

The water, crystal clear and carefully maintained, magnifies the beauty of the inhabitants within. Anemones sway in the gentle current, and schools of fish move in unison, creating an ever-shifting symphony of aquatic life. It’s a tranquil yet lively spectacle that brings the wonders of the ocean directly into your home.

As Orm moves closer to the aquarium, his eyes fixate on the intricate details of the underwater world. The gentle hum of the water filter provides a soothing backdrop to the vibrant display. His gaze traces the contours of coral formations, follows the movements of fish, and lingers on the seahorses.

You watch as he leans in a bit as if drawn into the underwater realm. The overhead lights cast a subtle glow on his features. For a moment, the regal air about him softens, and you see a genuine sense of wonder in his eyes. 

“Wow,” he says, his voice hushed in awe, “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

You can’t help but smile as you respond, “I’m glad you like it.”

As you both stand there, watching the aquarium, you notice that the soft glow from it reflects in Orm’s eyes, creating a harmonious blend of colours.

“It’s like having a piece of the ocean at home,” you add, happy to share this with someone who appreciates it as much as you. 

Orm slowly turns away from the mesmerising aquarium, his eyes still reflecting the underwater spectacle.

With a gentle yet firm touch, Orm reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel a magnetic pull drawing you closer. His blue eyes lock onto yours, searching for something in the depths of your gaze, and you swallow dryly.

Closing the distance, he leans in, and his kiss is soft and deliberate. Responding instinctively, your hands find their place on his strong shoulders, fingers tracing the contours of his well-defined muscles.

He hums pleased and deepens it, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer into his thick frame. You taste hints of the cheeseburger he enjoyed, the lingering notes of the beer he had, and something uniquely him that defies easy description but is absolutely delicious. 

The warmth of Orm’s embrace envelops you, and his hands, initially gentle, now hold you with a firm and possessive grip. There’s an undeniable urgency in the way he pulls you closer as if trying to bridge any remaining distance. 

He begins to trail a series of kisses down your neck, each touch leaving a lingering warmth in its wake. As he reaches the junction between your neck and shoulder, he pauses, sinking his teeth into your skin with a sharp intensity. A quiet hiss escapes your lips, and your grip on his shoulders tightens in response. Orm soothes the sensation with the caress of his tongue before resuming the journey upward, placing gentle kisses along the column of your throat and inhaling your scent.

“Orm,” you whisper, your fingers tangling in his hair, gently guiding his head back up to meet your lips in another kiss. In the quiet intimacy of the moment, you can’t help but register how soft his hair feels beneath your touch.

Orm’s hands explore your body with heightened intensity, each touch sending a wave of heat through the fabric of your clothes. 

When he pulls back, his breath comes out in heavy, rhythmic waves. His hair is already tousled from your fingers running through it, and his eyes, fiery blue, reflect the intensity of the moment, while his lips bear the deliciously pinkened evidence of your shared kisses. 

Breaking the silence, Orm speaks with a low and surprisingly severe voice, “Do you want to take this somewhere else?” His gaze shifts to the aquarium, and his expression suggests a genuine concern. “I’d rather not have spectators.”

A surprised chuckle escapes you as you realise Orm might actually be serious about the fish in the aquarium. You raise an eyebrow, playfully questioning, “Spectators, really?”

Orm nods with a solemn expression and a faint smirk, adding, “They’re judging eyes.”

You can’t help but burst into laughter again, shaking your head. “Okay, let’s get somewhere private, then.” You guide him towards the bedroom, wondering if the fish truly appreciate the unexpected concern for their modesty.

The fleeting thoughts quickly dissipate as Orm is on you again, his lips finding yours in a deep and fervent kiss before he buries his face in your neck, leaving wet kisses that send shivers down your spine.

Pressing against him, you feel the heat radiating from his body and the firmness of his muscles as well as his hard cock. You grind your hips harder on his groin, desperate for some friction and more of the electric spark that every touch from Orm seems to give you.

You physically feel him groan into your skin, a deep, feral sound that reverberates through his chest.

Suddenly, you feel frenzied to get him out of his clothes, to see him naked, to touch his skin. So you tuck on his shirt, pulling it upwards. 

Orm, getting the hint, separates from you and takes it off, letting it fall to the floor. 

Before you have time to appreciate his naked upper body, he lets his hands wander under the hem of your shirt to pull it off you, too - which you let him do without resistance.

Then, with a sudden and assertive move, Orm grabs you by the shoulders, guiding you towards the bed. The motion catches you off guard; the change in him is so quick that you don’t have time to react. 

Orm’s mouth descends upon yours again, a cascade of passionate kisses and teasing nips at your lips as he bites down on your bottom lip before running his tongue over it.

As the back of your knees meets the edge of the bed, he pushes you down, and you find yourself lying on your back.

Finally, you have time to appreciate his form. 

As Orm stands before you, the soft glow of the room’s dim light dances over the planes of his body, creating a mesmerising interplay of shadows and highlights. 

Orm’s hair is tousled, a delightful disarray from your previous encounters and frames his face in a way that adds a hint of wildness to his regal appearance. The light dances on the strands, highlighting the varied shades of blonde.

His eyes, an intensely deep shade of blue, seem to capture the ambient light like the ocean capturing the moon’s glow. The fire within those eyes hasn’t diminished; if anything, it has intensified, turning them into pools of desire and unrestrained passion.

His physique, chiselled with remarkable precision, seems almost otherworldly in its perfection.

The defined lines of his muscles catch your attention, each one sculpted to perfection as if carven by a Greek master aeons ago. The play of shadows accentuates the curves of his arms, the contours of his chest, and the lines of his abdomen. Every movement he makes is a testament to the vigour and elegance that defines him.

Your eyes trace the contours of Orm’s arms. The sight of his substantial biceps commands your focus, the muscles rippling with strength and power. Your gaze follows the prominent vein that courses along the expanse of his arm, tracing its path down to his forearms.

The play of light and shadow accentuates every curve and crevice, revealing a level of physicality that borders on the divine. 

The forearms subtly flex with each miniature movement, a testament to the latent strength within. Your gaze lingers on his hands, large and commanding, the fingers thick and long. There’s a certain elegance in the way those hands move, a grace that contradicts their sheer size and power.

Moving lower, your attention shifts to his defined chest that expands with each breath. You marvel at the expansive breadth of his pectoral muscles. The perfect symmetry of his six-pack draws your gaze, each abdominal muscle pronounced and sculpted. 

Your focus descends even lower, and you see the way his cock is straining against the fabric of his pants, the bulge prominent. You swallow and involuntarily lick your lips in anticipation. 

Desperate to feel his skin, you reach out to touch Orm’s chest.

His muscles are firm and warm beneath your touch as you trace idle patterns. 

You’d have expected him to touch you now and let his fingers wander over your bare skin, but he seems to have frozen. So you look up to meet his eyes - instead of that fiery passion, they now carry a hint of uncertainty.  

Orm’s gaze wanders between you and the surroundings as if grappling with elusive thoughts that demand his attention. The intensity that coloured his actions moments ago wavers, leaving behind a quiet vulnerability that puzzles you. 

You furrow your brows. What happened to that intense, headstrong man who felt like an unwavering current? 

His hair frames his face, and the blue of his eyes, though still vibrant, now mirrors a spectrum of emotions. There’s a depth to his expression, a silent turmoil beneath the surface, a vortex consuming him, pulling him under.

As you study Orm’s features, you sense the weight of something unsaid, and you feel it radiating off him in waves.

Your fingertips gently brush against Orm’s cheek as you reach out in a tender gesture. “Are you okay?” you inquire softly, searching his eyes for any sign of what might be troubling him.

His response is delayed, a moment of hesitation that lingers in the air. Sensing his reluctance to share, you decide to act on a more intuitive level. You reach out and pull him towards you so he also rests on the bed, cradled in your embrace.

“I’m here,” you murmur, the words whispered against his ear as you hold him close. 

Orm shudders against you, his breath grazing your bare skin. It’s evident that he wrestles with unspoken thoughts, the words lingering on the tip of his tongue.

So you decide to lift the weight on his shoulders, and you offer a simple directive, “Let’s just sleep for now. No need to worry about anything.”

As he nestles into your embrace - finally returning it - the tension dissipates from his body, replaced by the comforting rhythm of your shared warmth. 

Your fingers continue their soothing patterns on his back, a gentle effort to anchor him and not let him be adrift in the sea of his thoughts until you both fall asleep. 

The last coherent thought lingering in your mind is that you wouldn’t mind having more moments like this with him - moments that make you feel safe, whole, and strangely content. Only when you feel the soft warmth of his smile against your neck, followed by a tender kiss, you realise that you’ve spoken out loud.

[strniohoeee]

Poignant Pt. 2

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: After not seeing Matt for 4 months he finally reaches out, and wants to talk to Y/N…..he expresses certain feelings, but will Y/N feel the same?🫀

Warnings⚠️: None just cute or whatever I guess angst? This one’s short but still hope you enjoy it🫶🏽

Song for imagine: It Will Rain- Bruno Mars

Read Poignant Pt. 1 here

And pick up these broken pieces

Til I’m bleeding

If that’ll make you mine

Matt Stromboli🤭

-How about in this lifetime?🪻

I smiled down at his text, and went to answer him.

-Hey Matt

-Hey Y/N. How you been?

-I’ve been good. Just been working on myself for these past few months

-I’ve been thinking about you, do you think about me still?

-Of course I do Matt….

-We should see each other again

-I don’t know…that might open some wounds

-Wounds?

-Yeah, I’m not sure I’m ready to see you again

-Why not?

-I’m scared

-lmao scared of what??

-scared that when I see you my feelings will still be there

-that’s not a scary thing

-yeah it is….especially if the feelings aren’t mutual

-but what if they are?

-you don’t know that Matt. You might think you like me, but that’s not always the case

-Come see me please?

-where? And what time?

-tonight, the burger spot on the pier…6:30??

-yeah sure I’ll be there, see ya Matt

-see you later

Later on that day I had gotten ready to see Matt. I wasn’t sure how to feel. I felt like I still had feelings, but I also felt like I just missed him as a whole, as my friend. I wasn’t sure how seeing his face was going to affect me.

I had Ubered to the pier, and I got there at about 6:25, so I walked to the restaurant. My nerves making me nauseous and anxious.

I got to the restaurant, and told them I was meeting someone so I walked until I spotted Matt. My stomach instantly churning. I walked to the booth and sat down

“Hi” I said looking at him

“Hey Y/N” he said smiling at me, that goddamn smile

“It’s been so long,” I said looking at his face. How can someone change so much in four months

“It has. You look great” he said looking at me

“Thank you. You look great too” I said smiling at him

“Thank you..nothings change” he said laughing a little bit

“You just look so different” I said looking at him

“Could be the hair, or the tattoos” he said looking down at his hair

“Yeah it could be” I said nodding at him

We had gotten dinner and barely spoke…this weird tension always in between us….I just didn’t know how to feel at all. Did I like him or did I not?

We walked on the pier and sat down watching the sunset

“I um I’m not sure what to say” Matt said quietly

“I mean you don’t have to say anything” I told him

“No I do. I just don’t like how that day went” he said looking out to the waves

“It’s okay Matt. We’ve grown from it, and I’m okay. It was needed” I said looking over at him

“I just…man I don’t know. As soon as you left I felt this pain in my chest” he said blinking

“Well I left all you guys” I said looking at the water too

“I feel like I made the wrong decision” he said

“I don’t think you did. I think some part of you feels bad for rejecting me, and you’re making yourself like me, but I just think you miss your friend” I said to him

“Do you still like me?” He asked still not looking at me

“I’m not sure Matt. I came here wondering how I’d feel and if all those feelings would come back, but I uh I feel at peace” I said still looking at the waves

“I really like you” he blurted out

“I don’t think you do. You like the idea of me, but you don’t actually like me” I told him

“Stop hurting yourself by denying it. I fucking like you” he said shaking his head

“Matt, we haven't seen each other for four months. How can you just now say you like me” I said defeated

“Because I've always liked you, and I was so dumb to see that….it has always been you” he said

“Matt….” I said looking over at him

“It really has, and I’m such an idiot for taking so long to realize. I checked everyday if you’d be active on social media, if you’d comment on anything, my finger hovered over your contact. I so badly wanted to call you everyday, but I just couldn’t” he said shaking his head

“I’m glad you didn’t call.” I said to him

“What?” He said looking at me

“I feel like if you called me you would’ve kept me on this string of false hope. I needed to be away from you” I told him truthfully

“I was so stupid” he said

“It’s okay.” I said to him

“I want you, and only you” he said looking at me

“Don’t say things you don’t mean” I said looking at him

“I mean it okay! Stop pushing me away” he said getting a little upset

“I don’t want to get hurt again” I said looking down

“I would never do that to you….again” he said

“I don’t know” I said shaking my head

“Please Y/N” he said pleading

“Matt I don’t know that I see myself with you” I told him

“Kiss me, and tell me you don’t feel the same” he said

I looked up at him, looking into his eyes searching for an answer, but I didn’t find one.

I reluctantly leaned in and connected our lips. It was a kiss that made the whole world stop, it made all my problems float away….Its Matt it’s always been him, and I never wanted to pull away. With him I felt safe and loved

We pulled away, and looked at each other

“Tell me you don’t feel the same, and I will walk out of your life for good, and never bother you again” he said looking into my eyes

“Matt it’s you….it will always be you” I said smiling before pulling him in again, crashing our lips together

Kissing Matt felt like stepping outside into an empty field on a warm evening while watching a beautiful sunset overhead. This kid was my sunset….hes mine, he’s my safety net

“I’m never leaving you” he said rubbing my cheek

“I’d hope not” I said leaning into his touch

“Come home with me” he said

“Of course Matt” I whispered before we got up, and headed out to Matt’s car. Getting in and heading to the triplets house.

I guess Matt’s mine in this lifetime, and in another🪻

The End

I want to write another sad imagine, but nothing pertaining to death of the triplets….Im thinking like an actual….yk what let me not explain my ideas I wanna make yall cry 🤞🏽🤭 anywhooo hope you liked this one💋

-J💅🏽

[williammarksommer]

Ice Cream on the Pier

Untitled California series

Hasselblad 500c/m

Kodak Ektar 100iso

[carcarrot]

living the southern california dream

[possessionisamyth]

exactly one person asked for a men's list when it came to my cooking headcanons list for the ladies so here ya go!

Chris Redfield- Actually a decent home cook because he was old enough to want to give Claire some of their mom's cooking when he could. Unfortunately, any time he tries a new recipe for the first time he burns it. The second or third time things come out fine, but the first time he does something new he's opening windows to let out the pan smoke or returning to coals in the oven.

Barry Burton- His wife does all the cooking as he's hopeless in the kitchen, but since they got married she's never had to wash a single dish. He always made sure there's a working dishwasher in their house for when he's away too long to do his usual chore.

Albert Wesker- Can make the fanciest looking food in the world. We're talking Michelin star $100 a plate in appearance only. His dishes have zero flavor. They taste. No one understands how this happens.

Leon Kennedy- Breakfast King. I know the line in damnation is too overused, but breakfast is actually the easiest way to start learning how to cook. Box mix pancakes, bacon, sausage, and eggs, all require him to put something in a pan on low to medium heat with some oil and poke it around until it's done. There's little effort exerted in monitoring since that's half his real job anyway. Of course it translates to cooking. He's perfected the timing. Everything else is take-out though.

Carlos Oliveira- He had no idea how to cook until he got out of Raccoon City and went home to his family. He tried learning from his mama, but she'd always take the knife or pan from him, so he learned from a sibling and is pretty good at it. He makes a lot of marinades, so the blender is his friend.

Luis Serra Navarro- Absolutely under no circumstances does this man belong in a kitchen. He will concoct the most wretched smelling health food that's full of vitamins, minerals, and "a healthy dash of vinegar for flavor". He's wonderful to have at the dinner table, but never at the stove. Makes a real tasty cup of coffee though.

Jack Krauser- For some ungodly reason, this man can take someone's most hated foods and make them taste good. No idea what the hell he does to it as he will kick everyone out of the kitchen until he's done, but he's just like that. Barely cooks not because he hates it, but because he has to be in the mood.

Piers Nivans- He's the king of the grill. Will lecture anyone in earshot about the important difference between gas, charcoal, or wood when it comes to maintaining the flavor of the meat. He also believes salt and pepper are all you need for a great burger which must be cooked to medium at the hottest lest it lose it's tenderness.

Jake Muller- Salads, smoothies, and overnight oats, he's the one making meals that are able to be eaten fast or on the go. Fruit counts as a dessert to him. He does enjoy experimenting by eating the "weird" or most unfriendly tourist foods while he travels so he has something to brag about, even though he could never figure out how to cook any of it himself.

Ethan Winters- He tries his best. He'll help Mia in the kitchen with food prep or clean up. He makes good dips for chips, has a delicious cookie recipe, and researched how to make baby food for when Rosemary stopped being breastfed. This somehow translated into him figuring out how to make very good custards and parfaits. Although, he got super frustrated trying to figure out how to make bread and has given up the fight.

i will happily do this again for any characters not on either of my lists since i love cooking and baking, and this is fun to think about

[jo-harrington]

Chuck (Eddie Munson)

Summary: It's just a regular closing shift at Benny's. Easy peasy. Nothing bad could possibly happen.

Word Count: 3.5k

Characters: Eddie, Jeff, Benny Hammond

Themes/Warnings: Boys will be boys, friendship, smutty intrusive thoughts, Masturbation(?), Food Fucking, Eddie has an unspecified romantic partner (could be Steve, could be Reader, could be anyone that's not what this story is about), Song Fic, What's a Little Psychological Torture Between Friends…

Note: You know what? In true unhinged fashion, I had to write this for @courtingchaos on her birthday and not only that but give her some credit here. This was born from us being stuck in a car on Lake Shore Drive, hangry and a little slap happy, on the way to Navy Pier after I witnessed something that was probably very similar (in the most innocuous way) at a suburban Burger King.

Meg, you are my life. My world. You are my Cheese. Burger. And this one's for you. Happy Birthday.

Thank you AGAIN to @dr-aculaaa for the beta and @deathbecomesthem for some of the diner lingo. Disclaimer that I never worked at a diner so this is probably horribly inaccurate...but just suspend your sense of disbelief if you have.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If anyone wants to get the full effect of this fic, you need to put Mr. Roboto on repeat for the duration of your time reading.

---

5:55PM

Jeff stared at the clock as he wiped down the counter.

Every tick of the second hand had him gritting his teeth a little more, enough where he should probably worry that he was gonna crack a tooth. All because Eddie was late for his closing shift.

Their closing shift.

And not just late, late again. For the third time in as many days they worked together.

If he even showed up.

Now Jeff wasn't one to complain. Shit, Eddie was the one to suggest that he apply at Benny's in the first place and put a good word in for his best friend.

Ben was getting a little older and wanted to enjoy what was left of his youth while he still had it, instead of solely being stuck behind his grill for the rest of his life. An extra waitress on the weekends, an extra line cook during the week, and the business ran smoothly, even when he decided to take a day off.

And Eddie was pretty much employee of the month, knowing all of the regulars orders like the back of his hand.

Until Jeff started getting scheduled alongside him.

Until Eddie started going on dates, and started "going steady" with someone.

Until Eddie started playing hooky to go and suck face and god knows what else while parked up at the quarry.

Jeff let his fist slam against the counter as another minute ticked away, only for the bell of the door to chime and Eddie walk in, shrugging his apron on and shedding his leather jacket in a flustered rush.

"Sorry I'm late," he said with an easy smile on kiss-swollen lips. Jeff rolled his eyes at the sight and at the apology. "Oh come on, I promise I'll be on time tomorrow. Scout's honor." Eddie crossed his finger over his heart.

"You weren't a scout," Jeff retorted.

"Hey now," Eddie teased, starting in on one of his typical Munson-isms that usually ended up in forgiveness or forgetfulness. "I actually was. For one day before some snot-nosed kid pushed me over and I accidentally said fuck. Then they asked me to leave. But once a scout, always a scout."

Jeff hummed and turned on his heel to push back into the kitchen and start prepping for the dinner rush.

The thing was...they worked really well together. They had a good routine of noting what tasks needed to be done throughout the night. It's not like the diner was ever that busy on weeknights and Benny had been doing it alone for years, but it was nice to have someone you got along with at work.

Well it was nice...when they were there. It was nice when your work buddy was actually reliable and helped you out, which made Jeff feel bad because Eddie was his friend, his best friend. But Jeff could let Eddie's luck and charisma let him slide through his responsibilities.

So Eddie was about to find out what kind of hell it was when you were in the weeds alone.

---

Jeff had gone out to take an order when the phone rang.

Eddie grabbed the receiver with a quick "yello'" only to get a familiar voice rasping on the other end.

"Can I speak to Jeffrey please?" came the reply from someone dramatically sounding like Edith Bunker.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Gareth, I know it's you," he sighed.

"No, this is Jeff's grandma," the younger boy kept up the ruse, snickering a little at the end. "I need to talk to him."

Eddie let his head roll back on his shoulders as he heard the stifled giggling of his friend over the line, and then he peeked his head out of the passthrough.

"Jeff!" he called out. "Your grandma's calling."

Jeff donned an exaggerated and fake look of concern; he jogged across the diner and grabbed the receiver from Eddie's hand.

"Hello?" he answered and Eddie watched as his expressions got more animated, as did his voice. "Grandma? Oh no, what happened...an accident? You need help? You need me to leave work and come home right away?"

"What?!" Eddie shrieked and reached out to snatch the receiver back from Jeff's hand. He placed it against his ear but only heard Gareth laughing and then the ring tone. He was about to ask Jeff what the hell was going on, only to find him pulling his apron over his head. "Come on now, where do you think you're going?"

"I've gotta leave," Jeff shook his head frantically. "It's my grandma, she's in the hospital, I've gotta go."

"Jeff, come on."

"There's no one else to take care of her."

"Seriously. Quit it."

"You'll be ok by yourself tonight right?" Jeff ignored everything Eddie said and looked at him expectantly as he dug his hand in his pockets for his car keys.

For a moment, Eddie felt the panic rise within him; he figured Jeff was a little upset that he bailed the past few nights but...seriously it wasn't anything that Jeff couldn't handle.

Was his friend really that mad?

"Listen I'm sorry I bailed on work a few times this week," he apologized, but Jeff just shook his head and pulled out a roll of quarters.

Then another.

Then another.

And the panic Eddie had faded into curiosity, then realization.

No, Jeff wasn't mad; he was annoyed.

"Hey listen, it's just for tonight so I can check on my grandma, you'll be ok," Jeff explained as he walked over to the old jukebox in the corner of the dining room. He began loading the old machine up with quarters and punching buttons in rapid succession. "I'll even make it up to you. You can have all the tips in the tip jar from before you got here earlier and I'll put on some music that you'll like. Hey look, Ben took your advice and updated this a little.

"He even has your favorite Ed," Jeff glanced over his shoulder. "Styx."

Eddie groaned in loathing this time, thinking of the power ballads and synthesizer nightmares he was about to endure because his friend was gonna get back at him.

The Grand Illusion. Or worse Paradise Theater.

The records inside of the machine shifted as they queued up tracks for the next however-long Jeff had paid for.

"Don't do this Jeff," Eddie pleaded as his friend grabbed his jacket from the coatrack by the door. "I'll never skip work again. I promise. Just stay."

"But my grandma needs me Eddie..." he whined and then winked at Eddie before running out the door. "Have fun."

Eddie sighed and accepted defeat as the door shut and Jeff was gone, all while the sparkly synthesized voice began amidst electronic fanfare...

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto...

---

7PM

You know what? It didn't start out that bad.

"You're wondering who I am," Eddie sang along and bopped to the beat as he flipped burgers on the flat top. "Secret, secret, I've got a secret."

He had food to cook and orders to take and he fell right back into the routine of those short staffed nights when Benny started to realize how much he valued his personal time, but right before Jeff was hired.

It would be fine.

And there was a little musical accompaniment? Even better.

He figured that he might start loading the machine up with quarters before his shifts from now on, instead leaving it up to the chance of the customers.

"Machine or Mannequin?" He did a little spin. "Secret secret, I've got a secret."

Eddie hadn't even realized that the song that started out the night--Mr. Roboto--repeated itself until he got back to the kitchen, and then it repeated again.

And again.

He had to admit it was growing on him though. Like a cancer, but still growing. So he either needed to adapt or it would kill him. The lyrics were catchy, he could dance to it a little, and there was a good beat that he could almost headbang to if he tried.

It wasn't even that he hated Styx, he just hated what Styx stood for. Mainstream popular music. It was commercial and sanitized. Yeah Babe wasn't that bad of a song. And neither was this one. Shit...if he really thought about it, was the band even really that popular? They were underdogs, and he always rooted for an underdog.

"With parts made in Japan," he sang into his spatula and slapped slices of cheese onto his patties for dramatic effect. "I am thee modern man!"

---

8PM

So if you see me, acting strangely, don't be surprised.

There was a little bell at the pass that got hit whenever an order was up.

Of course, with Eddie being the only one working it didn’t need to get hit.

Still, every time Eddie passed it, he just had to tap his hand on the bell along with whatever verse or instrumental was playing.

I’m a man who needed someone and somewhere to hide.

It wasn’t getting to him.

No. Not at all.

It was just a graduation from him playing air guitar with a broom and drumming on the counter with spoons.

Ding ding ding ding ding, ding ding ding ding ding.

Eddie tapped at the bell with both hands at the crescendo and then went to the walk-in to scream.

Nothing to worry about.

---

9PM

I’ve come to help you with your problems, so we can be free.

“Hey can you change the song at all? This one’s been repeating for a while.”

Eddie smiled tightly at the guy at the head of the long rectangular table and then dropped the blue plate special down in front of him with a clatter.

“It’s broken,” he explained, not wanting to get into it.

Several customers had asked already; it was getting as annoying as people who said they were tipping with kindness. Obviously if he could get another song on the jukebox, he would.

How many fucking quarters had Jeff put in there?

“Could you unplug it? Plug it back in again?”

He’d thought of that too.

But wasn’t it just his luck that they lived in the do-it-yourself amateur handyman Midwest…and the damn thing was wired into the wall itself.

And he really didn’t want to cut the line and have to explain to Benny how an electrical fire burnt down his diner.

“You know what?” Eddie took a slow, calming breath. “This is actually…my favorite song." There was a disbelieving blink. "A-and it’s my birthday.”

The withering look he received made him second guess burning down the place; it actually didn’t seem so bad after all. He could deal with Benny.

I’m just a man whose circumstances went beyond his control. Beyond my control. We all need control.

---

10PM

I am the modern man, who hides behind a mask…

Eddie wore his Freak label proudly.

He accepted it, everyone else accepted it.

But maybe this music was getting to him a little bit as he started noticing of the different inanimate objects around Benny’s that he could potentially fuck.

That was a level of Freak that he really hadn’t embraced yet.

So no one else can see my true identity!

Well, it was sort of always there simmering beneath the surface. He had been a horny teenager and was now a horny young man. There was always a question about what objects he could stick his dick into.

But he’d tried to curb that curiosity after the pool noodle incident.

Now though…he was far enough gone that things were starting to appeal to him again. And it scared him a little bit for those thoughts to pop up during work.

Not enough to stop though.

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto. Domo. Domo.

First it was a bagel with the perfect hole.

Actually, was it even the music causing this? How dare that bagel look so damn fuckable. Cream cheese wouldn’t be the best lube, he had to admit. But he didn’t mind trying. Unfortunately that bagel was needed for someone’s sober-up sandwich.

Then there was a hole in the vinyl of one of the booths. He stared at it every time he brought out an order or bussed a table. Eventually he couldn’t help himself and he lightly ran two fingers over it and then plunged them inside the hole, like a lover would, only to find the edges were jagged and rough…and he was disappointed that it wouldn’t be the most pleasurable experience.

He wasn’t one to say no to a little bit of teeth when getting his dick sucked but that wasn’t what he was looking for right now.

At one point he even considered fucking the jukebox itself. Get it to shut up once and for all.

The logistics weren’t right.

Where would he even put his cock? Just rub the head of him along the coin slot while he jerked off? Pass.

His depravity needed to be put on hold though, because as he was in the walk-in trying to cut a channel into a head of iceberg that might be the perfect fit for him, he spotted a tub of hamburger with a label in Benny’s chicken scratch saying “discard” with the date.

He froze and let his thoughts swirl before he shook his head and put the iceberg down. He slammed his hand against his forehead as though that would make his internal monologue right itself.

Because what the hell was he doing?

Regardless of the absolute torture he was enduring, he was still at work and had a job to do.

Why was he trying to fuck a head of lettuce? Or fingering a hole in a booth. No, he was absolutely losing his mind, he needed to control himself, he needed to get back to work.

He was about to exit the walk-in when he glanced back at the tub.

“Can't forget that tonight,” he muttered to himself as a reminder.

Then back into the kitchen he went.

Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto. Domo. Domo.

---

11PM

“Thank you very much Mr. Roboto,” Eddie muttered as he dropped maraschino cherries into milkshakes. His voice was ragged, desperate. Pleading. “For doing the job nobody wants to.”

“Thank you very much Mr. Roboto,” he deadpanned as he numbly swept the floor. “For helping me escape when I needed to.”

Thank you.

Thank you.

I wanna thank you.

Please thank you.

Thank you thank you.

Thank you thank you.

“Thank you,” Eddie smiled, as the joy finally die inside of his body as he rang out the last customers. But it was rapidly born once again as he waved goodbye. “Thank you thank you!”

---

12AM

The doors were locked, the lights in the dining room closed.

And Eddie stood in the kitchen with a lit cigarette in his mouth as he concentrated on the task at hand.

The problem was plain to see. Too much technology. The jukebox still played out on the floor.

Machines to save our lives? No. Machines dehumanize.

He shouldn’t be fucking the jukebox or a head of lettuce or a bagel. No. He needed something warm and malleable.

Living.

Or well…close enough.

It was the perfect idea! Instead of taking it right to the dumpster, he’d taken the tub of ground chuck out of the walk-in and let it get to room temp at the end of his shift, and now he was standing there molding it into the right shape.

He was ready and aching after palming himself in anticipation. He’d meticulously wrapped his hard cock in plastic wrap, for lack of a better option. He needed this.

He deserved this.

Why hadn’t he ever thought of this before?

The time has come at last…

He put out the cigarette in the meat then lined up with the channel he'd crafted. He hissed as he sunk in—synthesized angels sung all around him, guitars strumming in harmony—and finally felt relief for the first time all night.

Secret, secret, I’ve got a secret.

His hips rocked in time with the beat, driving deeper and deeper. He felt the slightest bit of cold when he finally bottomed out, the center of the Chuck not entirely at room temp yet. It was an unexpected thrill and he shuddered as pleasure shot through him.

He let his head fall back and he laughed with the feeling, laughed uncontrollably, and the sound echoed through the diner, forever scarring the walls with wicked glee.

To throw away this mask.

It was strange, fucking what was essentially a mass of viscous sludge. Not bad, just strange. Not entirely wet but not dry either. Maybe it was perfect actually, something he never knew he needed. Just for him. A little slice of cheese...er, heaven...just for him.

Especially when he formed meat to suit his desires as it shifted.

That feral grin stayed on his lips as he worked himself to completion, as he pumped mercilessly.

Secret, secret, I’ve got a secret.

And somewhere in all of the hubbub, Eddie came to the conclusion that although it wasn’t perfect, he could get used to it if he had to.

Because he had to.

He'd be stuck here forever, lost in Dennis DeYoung's vocal prison until the end of time.

Now everyone can see my true identity.

He thrust harder and faster, panting and kneading and clenching until all he knew was the meat and secret secrets and his own depravity as he spiraled downwards further into insanity.

I'm Kilroy.

He felt it coming.

Kilroy.

Cumming.

Kilroy.

It exploded out of him with those last few emphasized beats of the synthesizer. He felt the cling wrap bulge with his spend, felt the tingles along his spine and through his limbs as his orgasm shot through his body.

He leaned over, satiated, until his nose brushed the meat in sensuous exhaustion.

Kilroy.

He could hear his pulse in his ears, along with a buzzing din of tinnitus, and the ticking of a clock out in the dining room.

But where he expected the beginning of the next round of torture, Eddie only heard silence.

He breathed heavy, broken breaths. Gulps of air that felt like too much oxygen and not enough at the same time. He felt lightheaded.

It was over.

His punishment finally over.

He closed his eyes and thanked whatever God or Demon gifted him with this boon, and then his eyes shot open and he stood straight up as he stared at the mess he made.

"Fuck."

---

The Next Day, 5PM

Jeff felt like the cat that ate the cream when he drove to work the following day.

He felt a little bad about what he’d done to Eddie, and he had all the intention to make it back to Benny’s around 7 or 8, but Gareth had convinced him not to.

“Come on,” he’d told Jeff. “You know Eddie’s gonna get a good laugh out of it.”

“Yeah! Besides,” Dave interjected. “Shame on him for leaving you up shit’s creek so much. Hopefully this’ll teach him a lesson.”

And Jeff agreed with them.

He and Eddie were friends but that didn’t mean Eddie could walk all over him.

He was glad to see the van parked in Benny’s lot when he arrived for his shift, and as far as he could tell, everything was normal when he walked in.

Ben was at the grill and Eddie at the counter.

Actually, everything looked better than normal. Everything in the diner looked squeaky clean and under the smells of cooked food, there was a tinge of the disinfectant they used to deep clean.

“You must’ve had the slowest night ever if you did a deep clean of the place,” Jeff clapped a hand on Eddie’s back and noticed that Eddie stiffened under his touch. “What time did all those quarters run out?”

Eddie laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck.

“Little after midnight,” he chuckled. “And it was fine. But, uh, now I know better than to fuck with you again.”

“Yeah you’re on time today, you beat me here!”

Eddie grabbed his arm as he passed and then leaned in close, voice pleading and desperate.

“I’ll never be late again, won’t be a no show, but please…don’t ever subject me to that hell again. Please.”

"Scout's honor," Jeff cackled.

Upon Eddie’s look of relief, Jeff headed back to get himself settled.

He chatted with Benny for a second before the older man left for the night. But as he went to the walk-in to get more onions to chop, he noticed something.

“Hey Ed!” He called out through the pass and Eddie turned. “Thanks for tossing that ground chuck! Or…Domo arigato I guess heh.”

He turned back to the task at hand, so he didn’t notice all the color drain from Eddie’s face.

[piers-official]

Language :]

"Um, we don't serve those with our burgers, sir."

Piers eyes the waiter, completely puzzled by this odd notion. Currently He and Marnie are at a small burger joint in Castelia (At his sister's request) and were trying to have a nice supper before heading back to their Uncle's place. Piers glances over at Marnie with deep confusion, she simply shrugs.

"Ya mean, ya don' serve chips with the veggie burger plate, is that it?"

"No, sir... I believe you're thinking of Sub Wailord."

Well, this was even more confusing. They don't serve bloody chips with their subs. Piers quickly raises his head around the room, Everyone else seems to have chips with their burgers, so what was the problem?

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Aye, look-" He wasn't one to get mad at workers for something out of their control, but clearly they were misunderstanding him. He regains a calm composure, and continues, "-Don' mean ta be windin' up on ya, but i's a bit dodgy ta say ya don' got somethin' when ya clearly do. Ganderin' 'round, I can spot other blokes with chips sidin' with their nosh, So I'm a bit cheesed ta hear ya go off barmy like this."

A small pause occurs between the two adults, as they both stare in bemusement.

"Sir, I have no idea what you just said."

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #3

Prompt #3: Battle

It's a bit peculiar that Subway Master Emmet wears white all the time. The commuters just think it's a 'twins' thing- the depot agents know better. In other words, Emmet's tailor hates him.

*Inspired directly by @kobandan. Their comic for day two absolutely activated the few neurons in my noggin.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

Wrappers crunched. Small talk and loud chatter alike filtered in and out of the office as footsteps echoed on the polished linoleum.

“C’mon Ingo! Relax a little!” From within her chair right beside Ingo, Elesa reached across the table into the takeout bag, pulling out a handful of loose fries. “You know, there’s a concert that’s gonna be happening in Virbank this weekend,” she hummed, taking a sip of her drink. “The one with that singer that you liked back when we were teenagers. What’s his name again? Piers, I think? And then you got Emmet into it too!” Elesa then brightened.  “I know! You should come with me! Both of you guys! I have extra tickets and I think it would be nice- to reintroduce you to that kind of stuff.” Elesa playfully nudged Ingo in the ribs with her elbow. “A fun little bonding activity~ Well? Come on. What do you think, Go-Go?

“A…band? Ah, but aren’t musical concerts quite… loud?” Ingo replied hesitantly. It had been some time since he had returned from Hisui and he had found that the modern world was… well, to put it mildly, ‘loud’ would be an understatement. The Battle Subway was loud enough- Ingo often found himself making a beeline to his and Emmet’s office to recover from the mental strain of working in such a vivacious environment. But he found himself warming up to the idea more and more as his friend enthusiastically elaborated, taking small bites out of the ‘loaded burger’ that Elesa had so quickly jumped to buy for him.

               At that moment, the door to the main office clattered open. Boots clicked on linoleum. Fabric shuffled. Keys jangled.

               In strode Emmet, a massive grin on his face as he closed the office door with one foot, hanging his hat on the stand and ripping off his gloves. Upon seeing both Ingo and Elesa leaning up against one another, the man practically beamed. He opened his mouth to speak. Elesa beat him to the punch.

“Em... Honey... Sweetheart. What in dragons’ name happened to you?” Elesa immediately set down her food but made no attempt to rise, leaning back in her chair with a disgusted expression as she gave the man a slow once-over. “Your clothes!” The woman then stiffened, crossing her arms. “Tell me you didn’t go and service another engine with your battling gear. You have a bad habit of forgetting to change.”

“I. Did not!” Emmet pulled off his subway coat and half-fell into an empty spinning chair, picking his feet up as his chair rocketed into the wall. He then pushed himself over to his desk and eagerly pulled over his stack of maintenance documents. “This isn’t oil. It’s dust. Soot. Ash.”

               Emmet’s entire outfit- his usual sparkling white slacks, jacket, hat, and dress shoes- each were stained and smudged with varying levels of grime, each atrocious and each downright offensive. His hat and slacks were splashed in sickly purples and greens, speckled black patches like soot decorating his shoes and slack edges. His jacket had numerous holes in the tail end as though a dragon-type had gnawed on it and a few buttons had either been torn close to falling off or were gone entirely. A massive chunk of Emmet’s hat- including the Gear Station insignia pin- were just completely gone, exposing the stuffing and the nylon inside.

Even Emmet’s standard black dress shirt and gloves were completely ruined. The starched collar and sleeves of Emmet’s shirts had what looked to be bleach spots on them, one of his shirt tails completely untucked and shredded to bits. His black gloves were almost completely white to the fingertips, the leather around the knuckles- concertedly- missing as if cleanly taken out with a hole punch.

Emmet didn’t look the least concerned that half of the skin along his arms and a section of his leg were completely visible, instead seeming to enjoy the attention as he tapped his foot against the tile. His own hair- messy and half-alive with static, was blown backward as if Emmet had decided to go skydiving for the first portion of his shift.

               Ingo raised an eyebrow. An inkling of his mind raised the question that he wasn’t nearly as concerned for his brother as he should’ve been. As if it was something to be expected and just as easily tolerated.  “You are unusually chipper for a man that’s filthy and practically indecent,” Ingo murmured, locking eyes with Emmet who leaned his head against his hand lazily. “You look as though you’ve crawled through the insides of an unmaintained tender.” Ingo took a long swig from his drink, narrowing his eyes. “Slept in one, too.”

               Emmet smirked. “You’re one to talk. The water ran black when you were reintroduced to modern plumbing,” he drawled, still staring unflinchingly into Ingo’s eyes. “You thought being dirty was normal. And you were covered in actual, literal dirt.”

               Ingo immediately felt his face heat up. “That is not the point here!” he claimed, not quite meeting Emmet’s eyes as he crossed his arms. “Why do you look as though you’ve strapped yourself to the tracks and let numerous trains run over you?”

               Elesa snorted, almost choking on her drink. Her entire face went flush as she began laughing. “That’s one way to put it, Iggs!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Elesa” Emmet chided, his own face beginning to redden as he scooted his chair purposefully away from the two of them. “That is not what happened.”

“Would you care to explain then, Emmet?”

               Emmet grinned before unclipping his pokémon belt and setting it on the desk for both Elesa and Ingo to see. Almost every single pokéball was in the same state of disrepair: burn marks, scrapes, dents, and dings in each one. “A verrry powerful trainer visited my line today!” Emmet beamed. “They arrived with a looot of super strong pokémon! It was very cool! They brought friends! A lot of strong friends! It was fantastic!” Emmet then hunkered down into himself, bringing his shaking hand to his chin as he snatched up a loose piece of paper, frantically scribbling down barely legible words. “I should remember that. ‘Follow Me’ on a bulky pokémon- preferably attached with a defense-boosting item or maybe leftovers. Skill Link Ability pokémon with a Rocky Helmet maybe? Or perhaps Loaded Dice would be better?”

“Okay, so your battle was crazy,” Elesa interjected, carefully but concertedly scanning the massive amounts of damage in Emmet’s outfit. “But how did your clothes get so bad? What’d you do? Stand in front of your pokémon while they were fighting?”

               Ingo involuntarily snorted, struggling to conceal his laughter after remembering that his good friend Dawn used to perform that exact same scenario when they were still in Hisui- to psych out the few wielders that existed. That or just mess about. Ingo could perfectly imagine Emmet doing the same right in front of his Eelektross.

“Overheat,” Emmet started, pointing to the massive burn streaks staining his shoes. “Acid Spray.” Another gesture to his heavily bleached shirt. “Bug Buzz.” The torn threads in his shirt. “Discharge.” Another pointed finger at the torn fabric on his jacket sleeves. “The battle was verrry serious! So much fun! They used all kinds of new strategies that I haven’t seen before! They brought a bunch of new pokémon! Them and their friends! There were six of them!” Emmet exclaimed, his grin growing wider and wider as he rocked back-and-forth in his chair, causing the frame to squeak. “Each one stronger and smarter than the last!”

“Did you at least win, Em?” Elesa asked tiredly. “You better have. Getting all that fixed is gonna cost a pretty penny.”

               Emmet’s grin almost stretched across his face as he fully leaned back in his chair. “All six of them won against me! Just barely! It was the most fun I’ve had in months! I hope they return to the Super Doubles Line soon so that I can battle them again!”

“Wait. The Super Doubles Line?” Elesa clarified. “As in, the ‘challenging trainer usually gets obliterated by the seventh car’ Doubles Line? The ‘nothing but depot agents’ Doubles Line? The- ”

“You can just say that you haven’t prevailed on those particular tracks,” Ingo teased, stealing the rest of the spare fries at the bottom of the bag. “I would never presumably figure out that a record exists of how many times you have been ejected from the Super Singles, Doubles, and Multi Lines. And I would certainly- never- look at those records.” Ingo then blinked innocently at Elesa as he scooted his chair just the tiniest inch away from the woman who looked as though she were about to strangle him.

“You do not have a record!”

“We do!” Emmet replied snappily. “All trainers have their battle facility records locked onto their IDs. It is not hard to find.”

“Nevermind. You’re being overly ominous again and we’re not going down that road. But the Super Doubles Line? Wow. Must’ve been some kind of monsters to get all the way through- the six of them in one day- just to destroy you… You had fun?”

“Yyyup!”

“What on earth are you guys feeding the Depot Agents on your supers lines anyway?” Elesa groaned, pointedly asking Ingo instead of Emmet who had begun to whizz through his papers. “I tried getting through once- way too strong for me.”

“We feed them coal slag and commuter debris,” Ingo answered with a stoic face, crumbling up the wrapper of his burger and tossing it in the nearby trash can. “Food wrappers. Plastic. Newspapers. Chewing gum. Some rust scraps off of repaired engines prevent any potential iron deficiencies.”

“Ah, but you are forgetting grease, Ingo,” Emmet chimed in. “Grease- Curve rail grease is essential for a depot agent’s balanced diet. That and stripped screws. And maybe a healthy serving of handrail and seat sweat.”

“Eugh. You guys are absolute loons,” Elesa responded without missing a beat, fully leaning against Ingo as the woman took a joking picture of Emmet in his atrocious work attire looking completely unbothered. She then sent the picture to Skyla unprompted. “You know, I’ve never seen someone so happy to have lost six times in a row at their place of work,” Elesa commented snidely under her breath. “Did you at least steal some pointers from them like you usually do, Em?”

               At that, Emmet whipped out a small, battered notepad from his coat pocket, eagerly showing off the multitudes upon multitudes of detailed battling graphs, paragraphs of messy handwriting, and heavily highlighted sections. “I did! And now! I want to recruit more pokémon to the team!” He said it more to himself than to Elesa or Ingo, pulling open his desk drawer in order to pull out a thick, heavily-banded book that looked close to bursting.

“Oh sweet dragons above- you’re pulling out Ol’ Reliable, Em? What’s the occasion? Gonna make some more abridgements? Honestly, you should just have the library make a copy- that’s a whole concrete brick right there.”

“Says the woman with five hand-banded design template books twice the size in her house,” Emmet snarked back, struggling to open the cover of his tome. “Let’s see. Eenie, meenie, miney… huh. That’s odd.”

“What’s the matter?” Ingo asked, taking a massive bite out of his second burger. He was quick to wipe the sauce off of his cheek. “What are you looking for?”

“Foreign pokémon.” Emmet then paused, scowling before stowing the book away back under his desk, crossing his arms. “Foreign pokémon,” he grunted. “Abilities. I don’t know the abilities of the pokémon I battled against today. I don’t even remember what the names of the species are.”

“Emmet. You do realize that the Battle Subway collects and archives trainer data during registration, don’t you?” Ingo piped up. “The free connectivity to the C-Gear? To Entralink? To the recommended vs recorder? You were the one to tell me that all trainers must register their preferred pokémon with an attendant before they even so much as board a subway car. Unless perhaps… you did forget about that particular clause…?”

               Emmet was out of his seat in a moment’s notice, the seams in his shirt beginning to splinter and pop apart as the man shoved his hat back onto his head and grabbed his jacket off of the hook, marching squarely over toward the office door. “Be back soon. Next destination: the attendant’s desk.” The door slammed shut after him.

               A moment passed by before Elesa once again reached across the table and pulled out a carton of onion rings alongside Emmet’s burger that he hadn’t even touched. “I call dibs.”

“Absolutely not. I paid for those.”

[goodpointsandbadpoints]

how about 3 and/or 36? :D

hi fon! BOTH. nivannedy be upon ye.

Pairing: Leon/Piers.

3: touching foreheads. (prompts)

36: being pushed against a wall (or a car :P)

-

He cannot deny it now: Piers Nivans wants him just as badly. 

Every moment he had grabbed and read into so deeply it sent him into a tailspin, all piling up in his head until now. Until the moment he’d said goodnight to the receptionist and heard Piers’ footsteps following behind him.

A quick and bright smile, and a brief question, mind if I walk you out? with the little caveat of them having parked in the same parking garage. 

And it’s the final piece in it all. It follows him out the sliding doors, through the little dark tunnels to the garage, into the elevator to stand with them as they say nothing. 

It ghosts up his back, sending shivers over his skin.

When he reaches his car, he stops with his hand on the door handle. He can’t hold in a disbelieving huff—Piers is standing there at the end of the painted stripe on the cement, hands in his pockets. He doesn’t look like he’s heading off towards his own car, like he said he would. 

“Can I help you?” he asks. 

Piers struggles with this question. He stands there, all pent-up and pocketed and almost funny to watch. “Can I ask you something?” 

Leon lets his hand drop from the handle. He mirrors Piers, pushing his hands into his pockets, though he has the luxury of getting to lean against the car. Support. His heart picked up and hasn’t slowed. 

“Do you want to go somewhere?” Piers asks. “Just for burgers or something. Wherever you want to go.” 

With the same intensity he would give any request over a radio, or to his superior behind a desk. It’s funny. Leon can’t keep himself from smiling.

“You asking me out, Nivans?” 

Piers rolls his shoulders. “You know I am.” 

God. The way things just fall freely out of him without any grace-notes. It’s exactly what Leon wants and expects from people all the time, and never gets it.

“Burgers are fine with me,” he says.

He watches something light up in Piers’ eyes. Huh. How’d that happen? Where did that come from? 

Leon sweeps his gaze over Pies, once or twice, and tries to figure out what the catalysts were. He knows his own weaknesses—the blunt and bold honesty wrapped up in so much competence it’s unfair, the brief flashes of camaraderie in the boardroom or on the field, the touch of palm to palm. 

What’s Piers Nivans getting out of this? 

He finds himself turning to lean his back against his car, hips square, never looking away. 

“I’ll meet you there?” he offers.

Piers stares at him. There’s a moment, an unknown debate, and then he looks around the garage. It’s fairly quiet now, the evening rush having past a while ago. 

Then he walks over to Leon to stand in front of him. His gaze is torn, thrown over Leon in so many lines, from his shoes up to his face and places in between. 

When he comes a step closer, Leon instinctively moves one of his feet to hook around the other. 

If he’s wanting what Leon wants, if he’s finally come up to the edge and is asking—

“Do you want this?” Piers asks. He looks at Leon’s mouth. 

“Before dinner?” he asks, going for teasing.

“I can’t wait anymore.” 

The honesty leaps in his chest and brings a shudder all the way down. “Jesus, Piers,” he says, breathlessly. 

A frustrated little expression crosses Piers’ face and he looks around the lot again. “I can’t read your mind,” he says when he turns back to him. 

“Knock yourself out.” I can’t wait either. 

“That’s not a yes,” Piers says with a huff. 

“Yes.” 

Piers makes a light sound, a hah, and grabs Leon’s wrist. “Then, just— come over here.” 

He’s being led around the car, where the back end comes up towards the cement wall, and he realizes it’s a blindspot. 

Then he’s being pushed up against the rear windshield of his car as Piers kisses him. 

There’s guttural breath somewhere, doesn’t know who it is, but he knows he puts his hands on either side of Piers’ face and gets a sigh in response. The first one is light, just a press before Piers breaks it. 

For a moment, he stays a breath away. Their foreheads brush as he looks between Piers’ eyes, at the green-gray light trying to find them in the shadow of the car. 

Yeah, I’ve waited long enough, he thinks, and he tips his head. Piers meets him halfway, and he makes a wondering noise at how both of them decided to open their mouths. 

Impatient and hungry, his hands behind jaw and ears while Piers clings to his belt. They kiss where no one can see them.

(collection on ao3)