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teardropsonmypaper · 3 months ago

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To Win Her Back~ Pt1:Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve and Nancy just broke up, an idea pops into his head. To make her jealous and his way to do so is fake date you, a girl who can't resist the offer he had made. A/N: This is going to a part of a series, I don't know long as of yet. I just got back into writing, I'm always accepting to feedback. Please re-blog and feel free to comment! I had so much fun writing this, I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 3188 Warnings: Use of Y/N, Parental loss, Sick Parent, The reader uses she/her pronouns and identifies as female, intimate remarks (nothing towards Steve and reader). I think that's all I can remember, lmk if there's anything else. ......

You walked silently to your locker in the ever-so busy hallway of Hawkins High School, people lined the walls, gossiping, making out with their fling of the week, or just minding their own business. Your headphones were blaring with some Black Sabbath song, making it near impossible for you to pay any attention to the soundsaround you. You were the silent type, but somehow in this small town, everyone knew your business, how your mother passed giving birth to your little sister 4 years ago or how your father was recently diagnosed with leukemia. Everyone knew everyone’s business and you weren’t excluded by any chance. You make your way to your locker, and open it collecting your belongings before heading home. As you walk away, someone slams your locker for you, loud enough for you to hear it through your headphones. You jump and see King Steve standing on the other side of your locker.

You quickly pause your music on your cassette player, “What the fuck was that for?” You ask, crossing your arms. Even though you were typically a quiet girl, you had quite the temper.

Steve smirked and ran his hand through beautiful hair. You never really talked to him, you used to sit next to him during your Freshman year, but that was the only interaction you had with him in high school. “Just tryna’ get your attention”, he said casually, the smirk still evident.

“Why?” You asked sassily, arms still crossed. It wasn’t like Steve normally wanted your attention, you never thought he even noticed you, you really just blended into the crowd.

He moved closer to you, now leaning onto your locker,”I have a proposition for you.” You raise your eyebrow, curious. “And that is?”

“Nancy and I broke up”,he said, his smirk faltering a bit. You knew that, everyone in Hawkins knew, gossip spread like wildfire around this stupid little town. You nodded, not really understanding why he was telling you that. “How does that involve me?, Harrington.”

He suddenly became a bit nervous, his body language shifted, a nervous hand running through his hair, once again,”Um..I was wondering if you and I…god this is weird..um if we could..shit I don't know how to say this..”

“Just spit it out already.” You say impatiently, along with your temper you didn’t like to keep waiting.

“I want you to be my fake girlfriend”, he blurted. At first, you feel your eyes widen,but then you start laughing. This has to be some joke or prank or something. “Gosh, you’re a real comedian, Harrington.”

“Y/N”, his demeanor turned serious,”I’m not joking.” For the second time, your eyes feel like they're bulging out your head, you couldn’t believe that Steve Harring, the King of Hawkins High, was asking you to become his fake girlfriend. Every girl, maybe some guys wanted Steve Harrington, he was the dream guy, he was an asshole 99% of the time, but it didn’t matter, he was hot and the captain of the swim team and star player in basketball. Every girl wanted him.

“Why?”you began,astounded by his question,”First off, you literally just got out of a relationship. Second of all, everyone goddamn girl in this school will willingly jump your bones if you ask them, or even look at them. I’m not that kind of girl, Harrington.”

"Y/N”, he began,”That’s exactly why I want you to be my fake girlfriend, you’re the only one who wouldn’t try seducing me the first chance you get.”

I sigh,”Why do you even need a fake girlfriend?” I ask, curiously.

He let out a nervous chuckle,”I want to make Nancy jealous,”he pauses,”Y’know show her what she’s missing.” You nod, understanding what he’s saying, but you can’t help but feel weirded out. You felt weird that somebody would even ask you to be their fake girlfriend,”Steve..I don’t know..it’s kinda weird and-”

“I’ll pay you!”, he blurts. You cross your arms and scoff, feeling suddenly offended that you offered to even pay you. He quickly senses your shift of mood and opens his mouth,”100 bucks per week, I know you could use the money for you dad.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, frustrated. You did need the money, you were only surviving off of your mom’s inheritance and your father’s disability check, and the medical bills were not cheap. Your waitress job was barely even covering the rent at this point, you groan before finally agreeing.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver”, he says, pulling you into a hug. You pat his shoulder, trying to push yourself off, you’re not a big hugger. You only really hugged your sister and dad for the most part. “You’re welcome”, you quickly change your tone to something more threatening,”Listen, Harrington, I swear to fucking god, Harrington. If you get any ideas into the fucking head of yours, I swear I will kick your ass.”

He puts his hands up defensively,”Hey, hey, hey”, he reassures,”Trust me, no funny business from me.” I nod, pulling my bag up to my back.

“I gotta go, Harrington.”, you started before trying to walk away through the now-empty hallway,”Gotta sister to pick up from preschool.”

He nods before calling out,”We need to make a set of rules, sometime”.

You turn your back to him and call as you walk towards the doors,”My house, 7pm, don’t be late.” You quickly make yourself to the back parking lot to find your old beat up station wagon, your dad’s turned yours. He couldn’t drive much anymore so he gave it to you, to run errands and what not. You hop into the car and turn your keys into the ignition before speeding off to the preschool. You were already 10 minutes late.

During the drive you couldn’t help but think about your new situation, you were now Steve Harrington’s girlfriend, well fake one but nobody could know that. You find yourself groaning at the thought, Steve Harrington was the most popular guy in school and you were practically a nobody. You just faded into the background, nothing was particularly special about you besides your great taste in music in style. It was safe to say, you were different but not noticeably. You wore light makeup and opted for more of a 70s look, you loved the decade prior to the one you were currently living in. Everything from the music and to the fashion and the hair, you were in love. Most people called you dated, but you called yourself cultured. But now since you were now “dating” Steve, you were now going to be more in the spotlight.

You pull into the pre-school, quickly spotting Melissa and her pre-school teacher. You pull up to them and quickly get out of the car, ushering to Melissa. "You're late again, sissy”, Melissa nagged. You quickly picked her up in your arms,”Sorry Lis, got caught up.” You apologized and turned to her teacher,”Thank you for waiting.” She hummed in response as you quickly opened the back seat up and put her in her carseat.

“Miss Y/N”, the teacher began,”We love having Melissa with us, but you owe us almost a hundred dollars. We've been trying to be patient, but we need you to pay your bill.”

You nod and sire, tiredly.”I’ll try having it by the end of the week, thank you.” She hums in response and you wave her a goodbye before getting into the station wagon and driving off.

The ride home was surprisingly quiet, Lis passed out in the backseat, apparently her day was exhausting. You hummed to some rock song on the radio as you drove home. Hawkins was a nice town, you’d have to admit, however it had its disadvantages. Like the town aesthetic, perfect and beautiful, however the people were annoying. All they did was gossip, about everything and everyone. Oh, you’re married to an alcoholic? Exposed. Pregnant before marriage? Exposed. It was like you were automatically shunned if you were different. You silently pull up to your driveway. Getting out of the car and carefully unbuckling Lis as you made your way over, carrying her in your arms to the house.

You prop open the door into your small abode and walk in. “Hey girls”, you hear your father call weakly. You walk to the living room with Lis still in your arms, “Hey dad”, you say softly as you find him sitting in his leather arm chair, the thing has to be older than you. It has been his spot since you , yourself were an infant. You carefully set Lis on the couch before turning to your father,”Long day?”, you ask.

He shrugged,”Just slept most of it”, he said,”tried to clean up a bit, but it didn’t work so well.” You nod sympathetically and place a comforting hand on his back. It’s been hard to watch your dad struggle, he used to be the most hardworking man you ever knew. After your mother’s passing, your father worked 2 jobs and made sure to come home after his late night shift, just to make sure he had tucked you and your sister in. But now, he struggles to move or do things on his own. “It’s alright dad”, you say.

He looks at you and it pains you, his eyes are always glassy and he’s been getting more pale. It wrecks you apart, truly. “Pumpkin, want to watch a movie?”, your father asks. You nod, and sit on the floor beside him as puts on E.T, you both fall into a comfortable silence as the movie plays.

Hours pass and you find yourself in the kitchen, making dinner as you hear a knock on the door. “Sissy! Someone’s at the door!”, your sister calls.

You huff,”I hear that, Liss”, you interject,”Can you get it?” You hear her groan before she stomps to the door, like you, she has an attitude.

“It’s a guy here for you!” She calls. Your eyes widen as you remember about Steve, you completely forgot you had invited him. “A guy?”, your father chirps from the kitchen table where he is now sitting, filling out a crossword puzzle.

You glance over to the clock hanging on the wall and realize it’s 6:58, you quickly set down the can of tomato soup before walking to the front door and see your sister interrogating Steve. “Alright, Lis, stop questioning the poor guy”, you huff. She looks up at you,”Wasn’t questioning”. You give her a look before she scurries off into the kitchen.

“She’s cute”, Steve said. You nod.

"She sure is something”, you move aside and let him in.

He laughs a bit. “I’m making dinner right now if you’re hungry, tomato soup and grilled cheese”, you say.

He nods, suddenly shy. It was unusual to see Steve shy, he walked around with some sort of arrogance and charisma usually. You lead him into the kitchen and your father immediately takes in Steve’s presence. “Heh”, your father begins,”This is a first, my daughter bringing a guy home.” You roll your eyes as your dad chuckles at his own comment.

“Steve”, Steve says, outstretching his hand. Your father takes it, amused. “Oh, I know who you are. You’re dad owns that big ol business”

Steve nods and your father pats the seat next to him, “Sit, let’s talk.” Steve carefully sits next to your father.You bite back a smile, you knew what was to happen, your father was going to interrogate Steve, brutally. You didn’t bring guys home, not since sophomore year,when you got yourself a boyfriend, Eddie Munson. You couldn’t forget it, your father was newly a widower at the time, but oh did he bust Eddie’s balls, alright. He walked out the house after, acting like he just confessed to a murder or something. You ultimately wonder if that led to your break-up, but you knew it was really because you were just better off as friends.

You continued to work on dinner as your father tore Steve a new asshole, your father may have been sick but he still acted like his old self, busting people’s balls. Your sister listened in, softly giggling as Steve would get flustered at a question your dad asked or when your father swore. Soon enough you finished supper and placed it on the sable along with some bowls and spoons. “That’s enough dad’”, you lightheartedly,”Don’t want another guy leaving the house scared shitless, do you?”

Your dad shrugs,”Wouldn’t hurt.” You give your dad a look as he begins to chuckle, you smile to yourself before taking a seat next to Steve. ‘Well dig in, guys.”

Dinner was full of your sister rambling about her day, everyone else digging in trying to pay attention to her babbling. You look over to Steve and see him listening intently to the four-year olds rambling, it melts your heart for a second.

She stops her rambling as your father begins to speak,”So, pumpkin”, he addresses you,”What is Mr.Harrington’s relation to you?”

“He’s awfully cute”, your sister quips. Steve begins to chuckle softly as a pink shade tints his cheeks.

You internally groan as you remember about the deal you made with Steve, to be his ‘girlfriend’. You try your best to be on a smile before taking Steve’s hand to yours, you swear you see Steve’s eyes widen as you touch him. “We’re dating”, you try to exclaim but it comes out more of a question than anything. Your father raises his eyebrows before humming.

“You guys are dating?!”Lis breaks out smiling. Her chubby cheeks prominent as she grins,”That’s so cute! That means you guys are in love!” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that one, whilst Steve nearly chokes. “So in love”, you sarcastically.

Your father raises an eyebrow at your comment but says nothing. He takes another spoonful of his soup in his mouth before speaking up,”About time”, your father says,”You’ve been working too hard and worrying too much, maybe Harrington here might loosen you up.”

You let your eyes widen surprised, you never thought your father, the ball buster himself, would accept a guy for you to date. Well as he thinks you’re dating. You nod stunned to speak. Dinner finishes shortly after that, you help your father back into his recliner as you send Lis to clean up the table. You make your way back to the kitchen and find Steve washing the dishes. “You don’t have to”, you intervene.

“I want to”, he says, washing a plate,”I insist, you cooked and I’m gonna clean up at least, as a thank you.”

Before you could reply, Lis beats you to it,”He’s such a gentleman, he’s your gentleman, Y/N/N.”, she teases.

“Melissa, shut it”, you say embarrassed,”You’re just happy because you don’t have to rinse.”

Your sister nods before running off to the living room. “I’m sorry about her, she’s a handful”, you apologize.

Steve laughs,”It’s all good, she’s cute”. You both begin to fall in a comfortable silence, you wipe the counter and sweep the floor as he finishes the dishes. You never took Steve to be the type to wash up or be gentle with a child, you always thought he was too egotistical to be caring or sensitive but maybe you were wrong after all, or maybe he changed. Shortly, the kitchen is clean and you bring Steve up to your bedroom to discuss the rules of your relationship.

Once in your room, Steve looks around your room. Admiring the band posters of Fleetwood Mac, Black Sabbath, and many others that showered your walls. He stepped further and saw some of the artwork Lis had made that was pinned to a corkboard. “I like your room”, he compliments. He traces your light green quilt that sat on your bed, as you grabbed your notebook. “Thanks”, you mumble.

You sit down on your bed and pad the spot next to you, encouraging Steve to sit next to you. He obliges and sits. “So time to make up the rules,” you announce, suddenly nervous,”1st rule, no heavy PDA. I don’t want to be those weirdos that are practically dry humping in the halls.”

Steve laughs as you write that down,”Yeah, no need to worry about that. We only need to hold hands and hug, maybe kiss on occasion.”

“Hug? Kiss?”, you say with a grimace on your face,”Fore-warning, I am a terrible hugger and only kiss me if it’s absolutely necessary.”

He laughs at your remark,”Yeah, that’s fine, nothing you aren’t comfortable with.” You write that down as well.

“You have to attend parties with me”, he adds. You raise your eyebrows,”Parties?”

“Yeah, it’d be weird if my girlfriend didn’t show up to them with me”, he points out. You internally groan, you did not like social gatherings but he had a valid point, so you complied and wrote it down.

A thought comes to your mind, and instantly you shiver at it before opening your mouth,”We are not going to have sex or anything along the lines”, you say, determinedly.

He throws his hands in the air backing away slightly,”Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that. You’re pretty and all but not my type”, he brushes it off. You couldn’t help but feel a bit upset with his words, not his type? That’s weird because you heard from a lot of girls that anyone that was a girl, was his type. You quickly right down ‘No sex’ onto the paper.

“Last of all”, you begin,”No falling in love with me, this is simply to get you back with Nancy, alright?’

Steve nods,”Only if you promise not to fall in love with me, sweetheart.”

“Trust me I won;t”, you roll your eyes and write down ‘no falling in love with one another’ down. “I think that’s it”, you say before shutting your notebook down.

“Alright”, Steve says standing up,”We’re officially fake dating, I’ll pick you up tomorrow before school?”

You look at him with wide eyes,”You’re driving me to school?”

He nods,”Yes, Ma’am. I’ll be your chauffeur to and from school.” You cross your arms before opening your mouth,”Y’know I have to drop Lis off at preschool and pick her up too, right?”

‘She can come too”, he says. You sigh before agreeing. You bid goodbye and crash onto your bed once you hear the front door shut. A million thoughts were racing in your head, you were now Steve Harrington’s girlfriend and you were scared. This was out of your comfort zone by far, but you know you had to do this. You were struggling financially and Steve offered money, and in your current lifestyle, it wasn’t something you could turn down.

.....

A/N: I feel like there is wayyyy to much dialogue and it's a bit awkward, I accept feedback and requests! I hope you enjoyed!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #no vecna #fanfic #fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fic

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storm-angel989 · 7 months ago

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Hi, I'm a huge fan of your writing. I was wondering if I could request a one-shot of valentino's teenage daughter running away from home because she's feeling neglected with how busy the vee's always are and how they keep missing important events of hers for work. Thanks.

OMG thank you so so so much! I can't express how much I appreciate that you are a fan of my writing! It astounds me every time I get a like or a compliment that another human actually LIKES my work! It means the world to me!

The editing continues! What a weekend! Enjoy <3

I'm REALLY looking forward to not working tomorrow- happy summer y'all!

I slammed the last of my absolute favorite clothes into my duffle bag. Another game had passed, another three hours of scanning frantically through the crowds for any sign of my father- or even my Aunt Velvette or my Uncle Vox. Another night of watching, waiting for them post game, only to be met with Derek, my Dad’s favorite limo driver.

“Your family sends their regrets,” he told me as he opened the door. “And your dad personally asked me to congratulate you on your win.”

“Thanks,” I replied glumly as I climbed in the back.

I laid my head against the window and wondered what could be so important that they had to miss one of the last water polo games of the year. As the miles passed, I could feel the anger growing, festering pent up emotions. Uncle Vox? His meeting was really so important he couldn’t even jump through the camera to say hi? Aunt Velvette- was her fashion show such a big deal that she couldn’t have come for even a few seconds?

And my father…whatever it was he was so wrapped up in. I still wasn’t exactly sure what my father did for work, but I knew it involved privacy and dirty movies. And at eleven years old, I was sick of the secrecy, sick of being ignored.

So I stalked into our empty flat and began to pack a bag. I wouldn’t need anything more than the basics. I left the gold credit card my father had given me on my night stand. I had enough cash on hand and my own personal debit card. I didn’t need his money. I didn’t need any of them.

I shoved my watch and my cell phone under the mattress of my bed and swung open the window of my room. All the movies talked about scaling down the wall, sneaking out into the darkness of the night. But as I looked down from the very top of the V tower, I decided it was a better idea to take the elevator down.

It was a sense of freedom as soon as I stepped outside the main entrance. The fact that no one saw me meant Vox was too busy with whatever to be watching the cameras. Far too busy to care about me. My anger continued to fester as I wandered the dark streets. The more time passed, the more unease settled over me. Without my phone, I couldn’t access my VoxQuest GPS. Even more so than I did after the game, I felt alone.

I turned down a side street and stepped in front of the building brightly lit up with the numbers 666. Outside, a tall shark demon in a well pressed suit leered at me.

“Pretty thing. Need a job? We’re hiring.”

I felt his hand on my shoulder and my heart almost stopped. A job. I would need one of those but this? What was this?

“What…kind of work are you offering?” I asked timidly.

He laughed, “oh sweetheart, you’ll be perfect. Just come inside. The boss is here, and I’m sure he’ll be thrilled with my…er…you.”

Against my better judgment, I followed him inside. Bright lights flashed, loud music blared and I cringed. Around me, scantily clad women rushed drinks around to demons dressed in suits. Waitressing. If that was the job, I could do it.

“Just smile pretty, and the boss will eat it right up. Soon as he approves, we’ll get you out there with the rest of the girls. Don’t worry- we’ll give you everything you could ever need,” he said as he led me over to a table where a mix of practically naked demons surrounded one tall demon. I watched as his face buried itself into the demon directly next to him, either not noticing my approach or not caring. I opened my mouth to introduce myself but then I noticed it.

The red jacket.

I felt my stomach drop. No. It couldn’t be. Involuntarily, I took a step back as the demon shoved me forward.

“Hey boss, what do you think of this pretty little prospect? Innocent, young, but we’ve had a demand for that,” he said loudly, his fingers pressing hard into my shoulder.

“D-daddy?” I practically whispered.

“Heh, you do learn quick dontcha?” The shark demon chuckled. “See? I found a good one.”

The demon turned away from his make out session and I could feel myself pale. His expression changed instantly from annoyance to horror.

“Reader! What the fuck are you doing here?” Valentino hollered as he stood up, pushing aside the table and the surrounding girls. “All of you, out! NOW!.”

He grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the back of the club. Lights flashed and a steady stream of people moved quickly, exiting the building faster than I had ever seen anyone move. Behind us, the room went dark.

I heard the door slam and I could feel myself shaking as I watched my father pace the room, screaming into his phone at who I assumed was Uncle Vox. Finally, he turned to me.

“How are you here? Why are you here?” He snarled, fury in his eyes. “You’re supposed to be at home, doing homework or…or…”

I could feel the fury rise, “or what, Dad?” I stepped closer to him and balled my fists. “Is this why you couldn’t come to my game tonight? You were too busy making out…making out with…” I could feel the tears of anger and frustration start to well up in the corners of my eyes. He really didn’t give a shit about me.

I watched his expression change from anger to something I couldn’t name.

“That was tonight.” He said slowly. “Your game was tonight.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, it was tonight! And you promised, you fucking promised me you would be there and you didn’t, Dad! And neither did Aunt Velvette or Uncle Vox, none of you could make time in your busy schedules. If I’m so much of a burden to you I’ll just, I’ll just leave!” Unable to hold back anymore, I dropped my duffle bag and burst into sobbing tears.

“That’s why you were here, you were running away,” he said as he walked towards me. “Ninita, I…”

“Your point is made, Dad!” I yelled through the tears. “I don’t fucking matter!”

He pulled me to him and I buried my face into the white fluff of his jacket as I choked on each sob that escaped.

“You do matter, you are my world bebita,” he said quietly as he held me. “I…I never meant, I never thought we…I…” He swallowed and tightened his grasp around me. “Let’s get you home.”

“Why? So you can say you’re sorry and then do this all over again next week?” I choked out as I pushed away from him.

He looked pained. “No. So we can figure out how to make sure this never happens again.” He lifted up my duffle bag and put his arms around me, guiding me out the back door to an awaiting limo.

Too upset to care, I let him.

In the limo he kept his arm around me and I laid my head on his shoulder as I tried desperately to stop crying. Part of me wanted to keep screaming, to keep yelling, to demand to know why he chose to do what he did tonight. But the other part of me, the bigger part of me, basked in every drop of the attention he was giving me.

“Shussh, cariño, you’re going to give yourself the hiccups,” he said gently as he rubbed my back. “Slow, deep breaths. Shush. Listen to Daddy, okay? We’ll fix this. This will never happen again.”

His words sent me into another spiraling round of tears. He kept the steady pressure on my back as I cried into him. Exhaustion swept over me, and eventually I closed my eyes. My entire face felt puffy and swollen. After what felt like forever, the limo stopped.

“Come on little girl, Daddy’s got you,” he muttered as he lifted me into his arms.

Too tired to care, I let him snuggle me to his chest and I buried my face against him, I felt him carry me inside, and listened to the sound of the elevator ping. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. And finally…seven.

“Is she okay?” Vox’s voice was full of panic.

“She isn’t hurt, is she?” Velvette’s voice, equally as frantic.

My father ignored them both and instead, carefully set me down on the couch.

“That’s a girl, keep breathing. Keep calm. Daddy’s here. Velvette, would you be a dear and get a warm washcloth? And Vox…if you would put the tracker back on her wrist.”

“I’m fine,” I said as I pushed myself up. “I’m…”

He pressed his lips to my forehead. “No. You’re not. And you shouldn’t be. We fucked up- I fucked up. Big time.” He turned and took the washcloth from Velvette’s hand and gently pressed it against my face.

I closed my eyes and let him fuss over me as he dabbed at my cheeks. I felt Vox slip the tracker back on my wrist, his fingers pausing just at the pulse point. After a few minutes, he released me and I blinked my eyes open and sat up.

“Daddy, I’m fine, I’m not hurt…”

“Not physically, but we did hurt you,” Vox said quietly.

“We fucked up,” Velvette added as she sat down next to me. “We really fucked up.”

“We let work get in the way of our family,” Valentino said as he sat on the other side of me.

I could feel the anger start to rise as I remembered the scene I had walked in on. “Work? You call being out at a bar making out with someone work?”

Both Velvette and Vox looked at Valentino with a mix of horror and disgust. Vox sighed and gave them both a glare.

“Only that part, Valentino. Got it?” Vox grumbled. “And only because she doesn’t need that image burned into her brain. The rest is on us.” He turned his head to me. “Reader…you saw what now?”

I felt my fathers fingers under my chin as he tilted my head towards Vox. My gaze met his and his eye began to swirl.

“That’s right. Good.” Vox continued, “Reader, keep looking at me. What did you see?”

Instant calm washed over me and I leaned my head against my father’s shoulder.

“I…I saw my Dad…”

“Yeah, you did see your Dad…you saw your Dad working in his office, right? At one of his clubs?”

I swallowed as the calm sank deeper. My memory felt soft, almost fuzzy. An image of my Dad, wrapped up in his red jacket, sitting behind a desk. The feel of the bouncers hand, guiding me into his back office. His anger, and the beginning of our fight.

“Baby? What did you see?” Vox asked again.

I blinked, a sick feeling sinking over my stomach. “I…I ran away. I got pulled into a club, and the guy took me to my Dad’s office. He was at his desk and…and we fought…”

“Ah, babygirl,” Valentino muttered as he put his arm around me. “We didn’t fight so much as you…put me in my place. I’m sorry, cariño.” He kissed my forehead. “I promise I personally will never miss one of your games again. I love you, reader. You are my world.”

“Our world. And we never meant to make you feel like anything else,” Velvette added quietly.

“Next time we fuck up, come barging into our office and yell, okay?” Vox pleaded as he moved himself closer. “The streets of hell are dangerous. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“Yell, scream, but please don’t run away again,” Valentino muttered. “It won’t happen again. We promise.”

I buried my face in my fathers shoulder and took a deep breath as I nodded. The sense of calm that washed over me lingered as exhaustion washed over me.

“Promise? Like really promise? I just want your…I want you,” I mumbled.

“You have us,” Valentino said soothingly. “Always.” He kissed my forehead. “Let’s get you to bed, we can talk in the morning about how we can make this up to you.”

“Play a practice round with me?” I asked as my father once again lifted me into his arms. “Go to the pool the three of us?”

“If that’s what you want, sure. We’ll do it tomorrow.” Valentino promised with a glance at the other two.

“Tomorrow we are all yours,” Velvette added.

“Totally yours,” Vox chimed in. “Goodnight, reader.”

I fell asleep the moment my father tucked me under the covers. Tomorrow, tomorrow we would have a family day.

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youremyheaven · 9 months ago

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Shatabhisha & The Rahuvian Urge to Lie

In the light of several of you guys telling me about your experiences with Shatabhisha nakshatra natives who were pathological liars and overall terrible people. I thought I'll do my research 🤪😌and what I found astounded me.

Shatabhisha is ruled by the planet Rahu, which is known for its mysterious and unconventional nature. Rahu is associated with the shadow, the unknown, and the supernatural. In Vedic astrology, Rahu represents desires, ambitions, and illusions. It can bring both good and bad results, depending on its placement and the overall horoscope. Therefore, the lord of Shatabhisha can bring a mix of energies and influences, such as intuition, creativity, eccentricity, and spiritual growth, but also confusion, deception, and hidden enemies.

Shatabhisha is the final concluding Rahuvian nakshatra and I feel like the concluding nak of each planet is the most extreme manifestation of its energies but also the point where it transcends beyond itself.

Shatabhisha is associated with the deity Varuna, the god of cosmic and moral order. Varuna is also linked to water, emphasizing the purification aspect of this nakshatra. The connection with a thousand flowers signifies the blossoming of spiritual potential. Varuna (god of the rains/ cosmic & terrestrial waters, sky and earth). also, the mystical healer and the lord of “maya” or illusions. varuna is also sometimes referred as the “dark sun”, he influences the west direction and is active after sunset.

Given that the deity of Shatabhisha is the Lord of Illusions/Maya and Rahu is itself a shadow planet associated with deception, lies and illusions, its no wonder that these natives are often prone to lying.

Pathological lying is defined as "the compulsive urge to lie about matters big and small, regardless of the situation."

SZA, Shatabhisha Moon, Vishaka Sun is known for being a pathological liar

Here is a video exposing her lies. Tbh SZA lies about things that are so unnecessary and obvious??? she once said that BTS ignored her at an event when there's video proof of them interacting and hugging each other 😭😭She has lied about her real hair, fake freckles, her age, used to say she was a marine biologist, being allergic to fruit & more. It’s mostly little lies that literally don’t even make sense why she is even lying about it.

I feel like being dishonest is a broadly Nodal trait (no offence u guys lmao) and SZA's chart is dominated by Nodal naks. She has Venus in Mula, Mars in Swati, Jupiter in Ardra to make matters worse she has Ketu in Ashlesha (Ashleshas can be hella manipulative) and Vishaka Sun & Mercury (Vishaka is a rakshasa gana nak which means these natives are veryy self serving)

Jameela Jamil, Shatabhisha Sun, Ketu in Swati

Tbh I can't keep track of everything Jameela has lied about because she lies a lot. Here's an article that goes into it. She has a thing for claiming she has suffered from or is currently suffering from a ton of different illnesses (mercury poisoning, celiac disease, a rare tissue disorder, a breast cancer scare, she's deaf in one ear, severe peanut allergy etc) and just a ton of other sketchy stuff in general lol

Halsey, Swati Rising & Mercury (She also has Hasta Sun)

Halsey has always claimed to be half black when in reality she is 1/4th black (her dad is half black), she allegedly suffers from Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, Sjogren's syndrome, Mast Cell Activation Syndrome, POTS etc i don't want to speculate about someone's health but whenever someone talks about having more than 2 serious chronic conditions, it just feels hella sus??? She said she was kicked out of her house as a teenager by her parents but someone who went to highschool with her apparently exposed her saying that wasn't true and that she left on her own to pursue music. Halsey also claimed to have been some sort of edgy misfit outcast in highschool and the same person said she was actually pretty popular and was very good at Art

Victoria Beckham, Venus conjunct Jupiter in Shatabhisha and Ardra Rising

She is certainly not the only one who has tried to convince us that her chest looks the way it does because of a push-up bra. But Victoria Beckham overdid it with her lies. She had been denying for years that she had undergone surgery for a breast augmentation. But then, one sunny day in July 2009, she slipped up. It happened before an L.A. Dodgers baseball game, where Victoria was given the honor of throwing the first pitch. She walks off the field, and says loudly in her mic that she is a bit worried her pitch would displace her implants. Boom! The truth was out! Her D-cups remained intact, but the damage to her reputation was done. Some years later, the former Spice Girls member had a reduction, and she now claims she regrets of having had the surgery in the first place. She also very recently claimed she grew up super working class when its pretty much public knowledge that she's from a vvv wealthy background (her nickname is literally Posh Spice?? like girl???)

Taylor Swift, Ardra Moon, Ketu in Ashlesha

This has turned into one of the biggest social media scandals in Hollywood in the past decade. It all started with the notorious line in Kanye West’s song Famous: ‘I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex/Why? I made that b**ch famous”. Swift’s reaction to these derogatory lyrics was …well… swift and brutal. She complained about being victimized by West and him taking the credit for her success. But then the Invincible Kim took matters into her hands. She broke the internet by posting a Snapchat video of a conversation between Swift and West, in which Swift was saying she had no problem with the lyrics. That was a huge blow as Swift had been whining for weeks about how she had insisted on being “excluded from the narrative.” Sister, if you really wanted to be excluded from the narrative, you should have said that first thing when the rapper called you to ask for your consent!

She also acts like some country gal when her dad is a stockbroker and she grew up on like a 200 acre farm and had her career handed to her lol

I feel like Nodal girlies love to play victim, along with Moon dominants & Ashleshas

Tyga- Ashlesha Moon conjunct Ketu

He grew up in a rich family in LA but claimed to be from the 'hood lol

Robert Pattinson- Ardra Moon

He has admitted that he lies all the time in interviews lol tbh its kinda funny

Here's an article about it. my fav bit is the one time he lied about hating the circus because he saw a clown die as a kid lmfao

Grimes, Shatabhisha Mercury

Grimes lied about throwing a snowball at Queen Elizabeth II's motorcade when she was visiting Vancouver. Somebody pointed out that on that day there was no snow in the city, so it was impossible for her to make a snowball, let alone throw one.

She lies about bizarre things that she doesn't even need to bring up. Like, telling Rolling Stone magazine she had to get over her fears and conceive X by having unprotected sex and letting Elon cum inside her. Later, the Isaacson book proved it was IVF 🤡🤡

She has also been accused of having lied about being homeless in the past

Lana Del Rey- Ardra Sun

There is an old interview with some guy who studied with her and he said she used to lie all the time lol It was really interesting to see someone in her inner circle kinda reflect on that. His name is Ron Pope. He said

“Actually, I knew her in New York many, many years ago, when she was still going by her real name, Lizzy Grant. And I thought that she was endlessly fascinating, because she was always kind of expressing herself by being a character. She would tell you a story and you're like, "I don't think that's true, but I don't care."

Well, after we were introduced, she told me that she grew up in Arkansas in a trailer park, and was raised by her grandmother. But I'd already known that she was from a family of means in New York. So I was just like, "Huh, you don't say, Arkansas, trailer park." But it was like being around a performance artist. It's not like they're a pathological liar or something, they're just a person creating a character.”

Lana lied about her age at the beginning of her career and to this day she says she grew up poor and is "white trash" when she went to a private boarding school as a teenager ???

Lady Gaga, Swati Moon conjunct Ketu

Gaga once told that she was bullied in school to the point of being thrown into a trash can because she was "eccentric and theatrical", when in fact she went to one of the most expensive schools in New York (which makes unlikely that something like this would go that far).

There was a bit that she claimed her aunt possessed her and wrote a poem, which she showed to her fans on live stream; someone googled that poem and found it online.

When Amy Winehouse died, Lady Gaga told a reporter she couldn't speak a thing for 48 hours.

When recording the scene where Maurizio is killed, the only thing that went through her mind was "What did I do?"; also, she claims that she spoke with Italian accent for 6 months after the footage was finished.

Kylie Jenner, Ashlesha Sun, Swati Moon

she lied about not getting plastic surgery for yearssss, claiming she just gained weight or whatever lol

Sara Ali Khan, Ashlesha Sun, Shatabhisha Moon

She's descended from royalty on her father's side, her mother comes from a very influential family, both her parents are successful actors, she went to fkn Columbia University for her undergrad yet she claims to be a "normal middle class girl" and says that she does not pay for mobile roaming cause its too expensive?? 😩😂and she is known for her PR stunts lmao, just a few days ago she was "spotted" helping underprivileged people when its sooo obvious that she called the paps to film her lmfao

Zayn Malik, Shatabhisha Venus & Rising

When Zayn Malik quit One Direction, he claimed it was so that he could shy away from the spotlight and lead a normal life. I don't know about you, but most 22-year-olds aren't releasing solo albums. Considering Malik debuted his first solo track only a week after leaving the band, it appears as though he lied about the reason for leaving. Especially since he's released a lot of solo music. In an interview with Billboard, he came clean about One Direction not being what he expected. So, I guess he just got fed up with the boy band life, huh? He could've just been honest from the beginning, though.

Steve Rannazzisi, Ardra Sun & Moon, Venus in Ashlesha atmakaraka

The League actor Steve Rannazzisi lied about being in the World Trade Center on 9/11. He originally had an elaborate story about that tragic day prompting him to pick up and move to Los Angeles to pursue his comedy dreams. But in September 2015, Rannazzisi said:

I was not at the Trade Center on that day. I don't know why I said this. This was inexcusable. I am truly, truly sorry.

As he says himself, this is a pretty "inexcusable" lie. I will say, though, at least he came clean about it. When it comes to honesty, better late than never.

Galileo Galilei- Shatabhisha Sun, Ashlesha Rising

Galileo was more convinced that Earth revolves around the sun. This led to his trial in 1616. Galileo obeyed the church order to end all discussion on the matter. But after 16 years, he published a book that the Catholic Church could not accept at the time.

I thought I should include him because this is such a huge example of telling the truth?? even at great personal odds?? imagine being the one to stand up to the goddamn church in an era where everyone was convinced the sun revolved around the earth lol??

it goes to show that not everyone with certain placements will turn out to be liars and deceivers.

Kurt Gerstein- Shatabhisha stellium, Saturn, Ketu and Rising

Kurt Gerstein was a deeply contradictory figure, who's life and work bear examination as an example of how a deeply flawed person can still try to do admirable things.

Born to a virulently authoritarian and later aggressively pro-Nazi father, he grew up in strongly ultranationalist circles. At university, at his father's behest, he joined a far right student association/fraternity.

At the same time, he became involved with the Confessing Church, an organisation dedicated to fighting back against Nazi influence in the Protestant churches, who's membership included a number of prominent German resistance figures. He spent a small amount of time in prisons and in camps for distributing anti-Nazi material, but his father's influence allowed him to escape serious punishment.

In 1941, he joined the SS, in his own words "acting as an agent of the Confessing Church." Shortly beforehand he discovered his sister in law had been murdered as part of what we know as Aktion-T4, the genocide of the mentally ill and physically disabled. His plan was to get inside, find whatever evidence of crimes and atrocities he could, and get them published for all the world to see.

Due to his experience in pest control and water purification, he was made head of the subsection of the SS responsible for supplying Zyklon B, an industrial rat poison, to a variety of sites in Poland. When he asked what the obscene quantities of poison gas could possibly be being used for, he was invited to witness the camps himself.

He attempted to tell the world of what he had seen at Belzec and Treblinka, telling a Swedish diplomat, a Swiss diplomat, A Dutch resistance man, and anyone else he could get his hands on, but nobody really took notice.

He spent years trying to get the story out, until in 1945 he surrendered to a French officer, telling him everything in the hope that his testimony could be used to prosecute senior Nazis and camp officials. He was given a hotel room and a typewriter and told to write his report.

After he was done, he was treated as a war criminal and transferred to a military prison where he was found hanged in his cell, likely driven to suicide by what he viewed as the final failure of his task.

After his death, his report has continued to be used as one of the definitive accounts of the Holocaust, being used in the Nuremberg Trials, the Eichmann trial, and the trial of David Irving.

Once again, it is possible to have these placements and still tell the truth and stand up for the truth. our birth chart reveals our natural tendencies, what we must do is rise above them. and contrary to popular belief, we can rise above our nature.

I hope this was interesting xx

#astrology notes #vedic astro notes #sidereal astrology #astrology observations #nakshatras #astrology #vedic astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astroblr #jyotish #rahu #shatabhisha

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wave2tyun · 10 months ago

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eyes locked, hands locked | ☆

pairing: prince!soobin x reader

genre: royal!au, fluff<3

prompts: - “was that your first kiss?”

- “stop looking at me like that”

warnings: none!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i apologise for the long wait my lovely anon!!😔😔💞 have fun reading hehe!! :DD<3💞💓💖��💞 honestly, going through this one again really makes me want to have another go at royal aus, perhaps something longer?? but at the same time i have too many wips going on and AHHHHHHHH i wish the fics would write themselves as fast as my thoughts go through my brain<//3

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

there was nothing more besides the cheery, tiny crickets in the grass that kept you company in the coldness of the night.

while everybody else was busy running around the castle, setting food down on the tables or balancing the champagne-filled glasses on silver trays, your one and only job was to watch over the garden’s flower section, careful so as not to let any curious kids wander off around the perimeter and trample all over them in the darkness.

that was how you were supposed to spend your evening: pacing around the cobblestone pathway, watching the moon and stars, feeling your heart ache as the grand classical music pierced the silence at midnight, wondering if soobin had found himself a partner to dance with, to hold close, to court.

you could tell that the chore had been specially tailored for you by the queen: it kept you away from the ballroom, the guests, and most importantly, from her son. she wasn’t exactly fond of the way the relationship between the two of you had been evolving- your presence left a bitter taste in her mouth, she couldn’t risk having you, a maid, impede the royal family from continuing their pure, blue blood heritage.

you were way too absorbed by the dancing silhouettes you could see from the windows -wishing that you, too, could slip inside- that you didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

soobin was right behind your back, out of breath, hands slightly sweating while he looked at your figure. he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you in tightly as he tenderly embraced you “i missed you” you heard him whisper, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

you couldn’t fight back the smile taking over your face, feeling relief that he was alongside you, and not with some stranger, holding them close to his chest, swaying them across the dance floor “how did you sneak out?”

“beomgyu helped me- he made a mess at the dining table while attempting to pull a magic trick” soobin chuckled, remembering the way all the plates and glasses flew in the air as his friend pulled at the table cloth “needless to say, my parents were too astounded to keep their eyes on me”

you laughed at his explanation, knowing beomgyu, the incident must have been much more ridiculous than anything you could ever imagine. he sacrificed himself just so that the two of you could meet. however, the royal family adored him too much to ever throw him out, not matter how chaotic his endeavours were.

“i missed this” soobin placed a kiss on your right shoulder “-and this” he sweetly pecked your cheek, then spun your body around so that you could fully face him. the dim light shining from the lamp poles illuminated your features, giving them a gentle, mellow glow, and, perhaps without even realising it, soobin was leaning closer towards your lips. your breath hitched in your throat as you noticed how short the distance between you was getting, and yet, you allowed him to do it- to close the remaining gap.

you were stiff, anxious, forgetting to close your eyes or at least kiss him back, your mind could only focus on the softness of his lips and how his hand began to trail further down your waist. soobin separated himself from you hesitantly, not too much, only to the point where you could still feel his breath fanning on your face “i apologise, did i go too far-“

“no- that’s not the case” you cut him off. there was a tremble in your voice and it was impossible for him to tell whether it was from anger, sadness, or perhaps nervousness. you tapped your lips with your fingers, struggling the words that wouldn’t make this more embarrassing for you than it already was.

soobin’s head tilted to the side, expecting you to go on further. he couldn’t quite understand why you just stood there when he kissed you, like a statue devoid of emotion. you had always been cold on the surface, mostly unaccepting of any external forces. that didn’t stop soobin from delving deeper inside your heart, he knew that, in reality, behind all your pretending, you were warm, a certain kind of warmth that he’d crave more and more as time went on.

which is why, despite all the distance you had desperately tried to place between the two of you over the years, he still found himself calling out for you. it was inevitable- you were pulling him in like a magnet.

the flowers seemed to pick at his interest only when he walked around the garden with you. maybe because he was all too immersed by your gaze, wanting to find out which plant had your wholehearted attention. maybe it was because he wanted you to look at him that way too- or, maybe he just dreamed of gifting you a bouquet of all your favorite flowers, all handpicked by him from the garden.

the pastries tasted better whenever you were the one who made them, not mr. hughes, the main chef, or any of the other maids. so, each time he spotted a fresh batch made by you in the castle’s kitchen, he’d place one in his mouth stuffing his pockets with at least four more pieces. the butter from the sweets turned the fabric into a dirty, buttery mess, which the maids on cleaning duty loved to complain about. they couldn’t get how, at some point during the week, the pants in his laundry basket managed to reach this state.

he couldn’t deny it, he was completely, thoroughly infatuated by you.

“it’s all new to me” you attempted to reveal the truth, unaware of how vague your statement must have sounded.

soobin continued to look at you with a purely clueless look “what is?” the tone of his voice was a mixture of confusion and concern.

“this” your thumb reached out to graze his lower lip, eyes following the motion. soobin took your hand, holding it against his cheek while smiling.

“was that your first kiss?” his voice quivered as he asked, hiding a laugh. the situation, albeit embarrassing for you, was foolishly endearing for him.

“stop looking at me like that” you dodged his question, returning to your usual, rash behaviour, but soobin knew that you were only doing it out of nervousness.

“why? am i making your heart thump faster?” he whispered, placing a kiss on the inside of your palm “or-“ he leaned down, continuing to speak in a low tone as he reached your ear “perhaps you already want more?”

you gave his shoulder a slight push. where was the flustered boy from a few seconds ago, the one whose eyes widened at the thought of having stolen your first kiss?

“i think you’re getting way too ahead of yourself-”

“i’m not, you’re just afraid” he provoked you, now that it was clear in his mind that you did want the kiss, you just didn’t know how to return it. knowing your ego and short temper, how else could he ensure himself another taste, if not by teasing you?

“afraid of what?” you scoffed.

“of being a bad kisser”

“i’m not-“ your tone sharpened as you looked at him.

“well, how would you know?” he snickered “wasn’t this your first kiss, or am i mistaken?”

by the way he spoke, you could tell that he was enjoying this more and more by the second. catching on to the trap he was leading you to, you grabbed a fistful of his shirt, a tangled mixture of his collar and necklace in your hand as you pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his. you didn’t know exactly what to do, you only puckered your lips, hoping that it was enough to make a difference from your earlier kiss. soobin pulled away with a chuckle, tilting your chin up with one finger “i believe you need more practice, sweetheart”

taglist: @huekalover3000

#wave2tyun #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #txt fic #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt smau #txt headcanons #txt soobin #soobin fluff #soobin scenarios #soobin fic #soobin x reader #soobin imagines #soobin headcanons

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lowkeychenle · 1 year ago

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Within the Piano Keys [ZCL] (M)

Description: For as long as you could remember, Chenle has been your neighbor and childhood best friend. That is, until one day he disappears without a word...or so you thought, since your mother hid all the letters he sent you.

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Smut triple threat ygm

Content Warnings: This fic contains letters from Chenle (purely fictional duh) but does mention things about the graduation system/the Dreamies going through a rough time just FYI! Just a brief mention. And also, smut. this has smut, but it's soft and cute smut because why not.......so literally that's it I think? Who I am these are some light content warnings

Word Count: 7,707

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat (briefly) Jeno & Jaemin, mentions of Mark and Jisung)

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

Author's Note: This gif actually kills me someone send 911 emergency services sos zhong chenle is killing me AGAIN

The ghost of the past will always find you.

There’s no outrunning destiny. Who and what you were made to be. And you sure as hell love to try—pushing yourself to change as much as possible to keep Fate on her toes. Sometimes, it’s inevitable. Sometimes, people are placed on the Earth with a specific purpose, and you were sure yours was him. At a mere seven years old, your life changed forever—in a way you never saw coming. When you think about it, you don’t think Fate saw it, either.

Because you met him then.

You remember the day in vivid detail. The soft, sweet melody of the piano drifting through the house, up the stairs, and beneath your bedroom door where you stand, looking for your butterfly hair clip you adore oh so much.

When your frustration reaches its peak and you sit down with a huff on the edge of your bed, you hear it. Your heart seems to beat along with the music, every key pressed making you wonder just who is playing downstairs.

It’s from Phantom of the Opera, a song titled “All I Ask of You.” The melody is full, transcending your body into peace the moment you realize what it is.

After taking a deep breath, you hesitantly make your way down the winding, spiral staircase, fingers tracing along the railings as if they’re too delicate to actually hold on to. Your steps echo downward, but as the young boy comes into view, you stop.

Not even your noisy intrusion breaks him from his music-induced trance. His entire body moves along with the sound, his eyes closed as he presses each note with perfection. His black hair is a bit longer than it probably should be, with a middle part to expose his forehead. His defined brows are furrowed, and even at his age, you’ve never seen someone look wiser than this boy does right at this moment.

You feel the song in your bones, deep within your soul in such an existential way, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever feel anything like it again. A silly, juvenile thought. You don’t know it right now, but you’d feel like that every time you were around him.

As the song comes to a close, he holds out the last note, inhaling deeply as if he hasn’t been breathing the entire time.

His eyes flutter open, warm brown irises immediately meeting yours. You hadn’t expected such depth, but you’d learn eventually never to expect anything with him—in the end, you would only build yourself up to fall…over and over and over again.

Here you stand, locked in a metaphorical embrace with a kid who can’t be any older than you, yet he seems…different. Like he’s seen enough in his lifetime to age him beyond physicality.

That was the day you started to believe in fate. The day he left was when you stopped.

Hours turned into weeks, and before you know it, the boy next door became your friend. Most times, you’d sit on the bench while he plays piano and watch incredulously. His musical talent always astounds you—he can sing, play instruments, write songs and compose them.

Sometimes, he’d ask you to sing the songs he played, and even though you felt nowhere near as talented as him, you did what he wanted. He’d join in with you occasionally, your voices blending together seemingly effortlessly.

Those weeks turned into years—two kids learning more and more about each other. He’d become more than a friend. You were twelve years old when you realized the connection you had with Chenle. When everything pieced together, and you understood that some hearts, some souls, are much older than you could ever fathom. Your heart, you were sure, stretched beyond your years, and your soul was kindred with Chenle’s in a way that could only mean you’d known each other in a past life. Slowly, slowly, slowly…he was everything, all at once.

“You’ve almost got it,” he whispered to you, adjusting your ring finger on the keys. “Just gotta move over a little bit more.”

You pouted. “My hands aren’t big enough, Lele.”

“Stop that.” He chuckled, shaking his head and nudging your shoulder. “That mindset is gonna keep you from learning.”

“Well, if my mindset doesn’t do it, the arthritis at a young age will,” you snipped.

His eyes sparkled with humor, crinkling at the edges as his smile widened. “You’ll get it eventually. Keep trying.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll tell you that you suck and you should never play again.”

You snorted. “Promise?”

He held up his pinky. “I’d never lie to you.”

You looped yours with his.

“You’ll get it.”

Chenle never gave up on you. He kept pushing you to be the best you could be, and you gladly followed his direction. You never quite got as good as he was with the piano, but you’d gotten decent at least. The two of you would hang out every day, spending every waking, free moment together until your mom told him it was time to go home.

You’d never thought about love and what it meant. For you, loving Chenle was as natural as breathing, and as time went on, it only got easier.

You turned fourteen before Chenle. If you had known this was the beginning of your last year with him, you would’ve appreciated it more. You would’ve told him all of the things lingering on your mind—how you loved him, so purely and genuinely.

Just days before your life blew up in your face, you almost told him.

He sat next to you on your bed, arm wrapped around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. The soft golden light of the lamp illuminated him gently, and the movie playing in the background edges you closer and closer to sleep.

“Do you ever think about…life?” he asked.

“Hm?” You scrunched your nose, your half-asleep state not registering what he meant.

“Like…what your plans are. What you want to do and who you want to be with.” His thumb brushed your skin soothingly. “We have to figure it out soon, don’t we? We’re almost adults.”

“You’re not tired?” You sat up and rubbed your forehead.

“Nope.”

“Well.” You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. “The only thing I’m certain about when it comes to the future is that you’ll be there. So, it doesn’t matter what else happens.”

He smiled softly, the slightest shade of red tinting his cheeks. “Even if the world ended?”

“Even if the world ended.” You confirmed.

A few months later, the world did end. At least, yours did.

He was gone.

His mom left shortly after him, but she told you what he was doing—how he was going to pursue his music career in South Korea. He was going to be an idol, and he was leaving you behind to do it.

Your world ended, but his got to go on without you.

At twenty-one years old, you’re still not sure where you went wrong. Chenle left, but his memory plagues the very walls you live within. You keep up with him, with his group and all of the things they’re doing. Even though you’re not with him, you watch him grow and grow into a more confident version of the young boy you knew.

Seven years without him should have been impossible, yet here you are: alive, well, and watching any and all Chenle related content. You haven’t heard from him, not once. Assumingly, he’s incredibly busy. Even then, you wonder occasionally if you ever cross his mind, if he ever thinks of the love he left behind.

Ever since, you’ve been sensitive over the summer months. A part of you is missing, and until you see him again, you’re unsure if you’ll ever find it. Has he changed? Is he still the boy you loved?

On days where thoughts of him overwhelms you, you like to walk the trail behind your house. It takes you through a wooded area, and the other end brings you to the end of your street. On your walk back, you see an unfamiliar car outside of Chenle’s family’s home. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you stand there to watch.

The door slides open, and you hear an unfamiliar laugh. Frowning, you cross your arms over your chest. Who the hell would be at Chenle’s house?

When the first person gets out of the car, your heart stops in your chest. You’re about eighty percent sure that’s Lee Jeno, light hair reflecting the bright sunlight above. If that’s Jeno, then—

You feel a sudden urge to run into your house, slam the door, and lock it behind you. Several other people are in that car, and if they’re here…one of them is Chenle. Your Chenle, who isn’t really yours. Not anymore.

Jaemin gets out next. His roots are dark, nearly overshadowing the pink hue on top of his head. He swats at someone behind him, laughing, and as that person comes into view, your heart stops. It shreds itself to pieces.

Jeno notices you first, a slight frown gracing his face before Chenle’s gaze follows his line of sight. When he sees you, you instantly see the recognition on his face.

Seven years is a long time. Hell, even though you’ve seen all of Dream’s content, you’re still shocked to see how different he looks. His face is more defined. He’s grown a bit taller, too.

He sees you. He’s looking at you for the first time in years, and all you want to do is forget all this time of no contact, all the ways the two of you hadn’t reached out to each other. A lump forms in your throat, and before you do something stupid, you let out a shaky breath, turn away from him, and make your way into your house.

You shut the door behind you, your back thudding against it. Glancing over to your right, the grand piano—old and loved—is blurred by your tears, and for the briefest of moments, you swear you see your younger self sitting there, endlessly playing the songs Chenle taught you before he left.

A knock sounds, and each one echoes throughout your house, feeling like a hole-puncher on your heart. You’re barely able to breathe as you prepare yourself to be face-to-face with Chenle for the first time in almost a decade—for the first time since he up and disappeared on you without a word.

“(Y/N)?” His voice. So familiar but so distant, all the same as it was.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

You brace yourself against the solid wood of the piano, doing your best to calm yourself. The last thing you need is to make a fool of yourself in front of him.

A hesitant creak fills your ears, and the tap of his shoes on the hardwood flooring has your eyes clenching shut.

“Why’d you run off like that?” he asks, voice so soft that it’s barely audible.

“I didn’t.”

“You still sound the same,” he says it quietly, as if he’s the only one meant to hear it. He raises his voice so you can hear him. “It’s been a long time.”

You scoff, whipping around to face him. “It’s been a long time? That’s all you have to say to me?” Anger bubbles in your gut, quickly replacing the hurt lingering.

You have to stop yourself from admiring him at a time like this. His oversized T-shirt somehow compliments him in the best ways, his hair is a tinted shade of purple, and when his fingers run through it, you have to look away. Sure, you should’ve expected to see him again at some point, but you never imagined you’d feel the same. It’s a bit different now that you’re older. You’re able to see him in a different light.

His eyes widen and he recoils. “I…I’m sorry, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say. It’s not like there’s a textbook on how to do this.”

“What are you doing here? Why now?” You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to avoid his eyes.

“We’re here on a schedule.” He slides his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I told them about you, in case you were wondering.”

“Oh, right.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I suppose that makes it all okay, right? You tell your friends I exist and that’s supposed to change how you up and left me without a word?”

He frowns. “Without a word?”

“Yeah, Chenle. Without a single fucking word.”

“That’s not true.” His tone sharpens to match yours. “I wrote to you. A lot. And if you didn’t want to read them, that’s on you. That doesn’t mean I left without a word. There were a lot of words, actually.”

“Why didn’t I get them?” Your voice drops into a whisper, moving one of your hands to touch your forehead.

“I…I don’t know. I didn’t know your address so I sent them to my mom, and she told me every time she gave one to your mom—”

A jolt of electricity rages up your spine, and you immediately turn away from him and run up the staircase. Your mother’s out of town for the week. If she’s been hiding letters from you, they’d be in her room somewhere—and you’d tear that place apart if it meant you had all those words.

“Where are you—hey!”

You’re already in your mom’s closet when Chenle follows you in.

“You shouldn’t be in here—”

“Says you,” you interrupt him, mindlessly shuffling through anything that looks like it could hold letters. “How many?”

“What?”

“How many did you send, Chenle?”

“Um.” He pauses, shifting on his feet. “I don’t know. A few? I stopped after a while because I didn’t hear anything. Figured you didn’t want anything else.”

“My God,” you mutter, blinking rapidly to fight off the tears. “And you swear your mom gave them to mine?”

“I—yeah, she didn’t have a reason not to.”

“And my mom had a reason not to give them to—shit. When did you send the first one?”

“(Y/N), it was seven years ago.”

“Was it right when you left or afterward?” You haphazardly dig through the closet, searching high and low.

“I left it here. I told my mom about it after a week or so. What the hell is going on?” Chenle runs his fingers through his hair again, gulping. “We really shouldn’t be in here.”

Your heart sinks. There’s nothing in here. You’ll never find Chenle’s letters, and the mystery will always be just that.

“I…I’m so sorry.” You drop your head into your hands. “I’m acting like an idiot right now.”

“Don’t be sorry, I’m just confused. This whole time, I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me…that’s why I haven’t been back in a while.” Chenle takes a step closer to you, reaching out to touch your arm. “I would never leave you.”

You finally look at him. Really look at him. The worried furrow to his brow, the slight downturn of his lips, concern clouding those beautiful irises of his. Standing in front of you is the reason you are who you are today.

“You just…Okay, I need a while to figure all of this out.” You glance up to the ceiling, closing your eyes and taking a shuddering breath. “Can you go? I don’t really want to see you right now.”

Hurt plays out on his face, but after he blinks a few times, he nods slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Um, I’ll see you later. If it helps any, I probably could’ve tried to call or something.”

“We were kids.” You sigh. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

You say that, but it would have. The entire trajectory of your life may have changed if Chenle was still in it back then. As much as you want to be pissed at your mother for hiding things from you, maybe she was right.

Chenle takes his bottom lip between his teeth, looking you over one more time as he nods. “Right. I…I’ll see you around.”

Before you respond, he’s turning away from you and disappearing down the hall. You feel a lot of things—overwhelmed, confused, sad. But you also almost feel naive for listening to him—for believing that your mother hid things from you. Your brain stops being logical when Chenle’s around, and you know it’s a mistake to bring him back into your life. The hurt has passed, but that doesn’t mean it won’t rear its ugly head if you’re in such close proximity to him.

You go back downstairs to grab your phone, and the first thing you do is dial your mom’s number. She picks up after the first ring.

“Hi, honey! I was about to text you. New York is fascinating! You’d love it—”

“Did Chenle write me letters?”

“Oh.” She clears her throat. “Where is this coming from?”

“He’s here,” you mutter. “He told me he sent me letters, mom.”

“(Y/N), you have to understand where I was coming from.”

“Where are they?” You slap your hand to your forehead. “Where?”

“He still left, you know. I understand he’s important to you, but he still chose a career over you. And you would’ve thrown everything away for him without a second thought.” Your mom takes a deep breath. “You needed to live your life for you.”

“Where are they?” you repeat. “If you threw them away, I will never forgive you.”

“Of course, I didn’t throw them away. They’re in my closet in a little gold box on the floor. When you read those…don’t get any ideas. He lives far away and he’s even less available for you now than he was before.”

You hang up without saying another word and run back up the stairs. It takes you only a few seconds to find the box she told you about. When you open it, your breath shudders at the stack of letters in there. Some are aged and crinkly, but the ones toward the top are newer. Your hands shake as you grab them, mouth dry as you see the dates listed across the front of the envelope.

You start with the one on the bottom, the oldest, and ever so carefully opening it. Blinking back tears, you take in the painfully familiar handwriting that belonged to your Chenle.

(Y/N)

This is probably the worst way to do this, I know. I’m leaving to follow my dreams, and while I wish I could take you with me, it doesn’t make sense. Your mom would never agree to let you come. Thinking of going through all of this without you scares me more than I care to admit.

I don’t have a phone yet, but as soon as I get one, I’ll send you a letter with the number! It’ll be nice to hear your voice again. I’m writing this early, so I actually spoke with you earlier today, but it’s funny how quickly I miss you.

You’re probably going to be really mad at me, and that’s okay. I deserve it. The reason I didn’t tell you isn’t very simple, but I hope you understand it. Saying goodbye to you would feel so permanent. Goodbye itself is too permanent for my liking, so I’ve never liked them.

If I looked into your eyes and told you I was leaving, I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to go. Or that I’d sneak you with me in my carry-on. I didn’t want to hurt you. You mean so much to me, (Y/N). I don’t ever want to make you upset, and I know you’ll eventually understand why I had to do it this way.

Just know I’ll be thinking about you every day. You’re the reason I’ll have the strength to get through this training period.

Talk to you soon,

Your Chenle

You trace your finger along the bottom of the page. Face wet, you clear your throat as you delicately set it aside to grab the next one. According to the date on the envelope, it’s from a few months after the first one.

(Y/N),

These past few months have been so hectic. I think I almost died a couple times, but here I am. I debuted last week! I’m in a group called NCT, but I debuted in the sub-unit NCT DREAM. It seems surreal, and it happened so much faster than I thought.

I think you’d like the other guys. They’re nice and loud and friendly. Honestly, they seem like they’ve been working together for a little bit of time already, so I’m the newest one here. I heard someone say they’d been training for a while…

Anyway, I said in the last letter that I’d give you my phone number. I realized after I left that you didn’t have one either, so…I’m not sure how that’ll work. And I wasn’t expecting a response to these at all, but if you want to write back, it’d give me something to look forward to after all this hecticness.

But yeah…honestly, I was a bit worried about moving here and being in a group. I’ve been learning a lot of Korean though, and another member named Jisung has been helping me a lot. He’s a few months younger than me, can you believe it? Everyone treats him like a baby, but I think he likes it. I told them about you, and they all kept teasing me.

Maybe they just don’t understand. You’re my favorite person, of course, I’m going to talk about you and tell them stories about all the fun we had.

Sorry this one is a bit long. I hope you’re not too mad at me. And I also hope that you’re keeping up on me. I think you’d like Chewing Gum…

I’ll talk to you soon! I’ll write my number down at the bottom of the page.

Your Chenle

You have to take a break. You rest your head back against the wall, closing your eyes and imagining how hurt poor, young Chenle must have been when you never responded to his heartfelt letters. You don’t know much about Jisung—besides the obvious, public information—but you’re happy someone was good and helpful to him.

After that, you wonder what it would’ve been like to be there for him through all of that. Based on what you know about his group, he’s been through a lot of ups and downs over the years. You wonder if he wrote about some of the harder things, too.

You read another one that’s about their promotions, how he’s getting closer with the other members. Then one about how he performed with twenty-two others. The next one you grab is dated from 2019. You open it.

(Y/N),

I didn’t think this year would be as hard as it has been. We all expected it, you know? We knew it was going to happen, but it doesn’t change how scary it’s been. I’m sorry it’s been a while since I’ve written. Maybe you just throw them away at this point, which is fine, but I wish I could hear from you. Especially at a time like this.

Dream has a graduation system, and Mark’s been gone for months now. Things have been continuing ‘as normal,’ but without Mark, we don’t really feel complete as a group. We see him as often as we can, but performing without him is…it feels wrong.

I wish I could see you. You’d make everything better in an instant, just like you always did. Sometimes, I feel terrible because the others get sad about the situation, and I can’t figure out any good words to say. You’ve always been so good at comforting others, I wish you were here to help me.

It’s been two years since I’ve seen you. That’s so weird to think about, because I swear I still hear your voice in my head. Your encouraging words, how you always believed in me. I need that now more than ever.

I’m not sure if you know much about Mark, but he’s our rock. We kind of fail to function without him. But in the spirit of missing both you and Mark, I’ll tell you a little story about what happened when I asked Mark for advice.

I asked him about you—about what I could possibly do to make all of this up to you since you deserve it. And not hearing back from you makes me think you might hate me.

Anyway, his question in response was interesting. He wanted to know what you were to me. How I felt about you. At first, I thought he was crazy. I mean, it was obvious—you’re my best friend. I can’t live and function without my best friend.

He asked if that was all.

I vividly remember scrunching up my face and pushing his shoulder. Not too hard, by the way.

But the more he told me about what it felt like to be in love, everything clicked into place. I’m in love with you, (Y/N). I have been for so long that it started feeling like second nature instead of a conscious idea.

I guess it doesn’t matter now. Maybe I’ve failed you too much for it to mean anything to you.

Loss sucks. Losing Mark in Dream has sucked, losing you before I even realized the extent of my feelings sucked, but at the end of the day, I have to keep pushing forward. I’m sorry for any hurt I may have caused, because this situation with Mark also made me realize how much it must have hurt you for me to up and disappear the way I did.

I’m so, so sorry. I hope you can forgive me.

Your Chenle

You wipe angrily at your tears, unsure if you should be mad at yourself or at your mother. She stole this from you. Chenle figured out his feelings for you long before you figured out yours for him, but it feels like a new revelation—to know he felt the same way, even after years without you.

You remember this time where Mark had ‘graduated’ from NCT Dream. And because you knew Chenle well, you could tell he was struggling, even when he put on a happy facade. He needed you, and you weren’t there for him.

No matter how much it hurts, you can’t stop. You grab the next one. His writing became less frequent after that. He wrote to tell you when NCT Dream became a fixed unit, and how happy he was to be reunited as seven. The next was from their first full album. You find the last one, surprised to find how recent it was. There was a large gap between this one and the one before it.

The letter was addressed from a few months ago. The one before had been from two years ago.

(Y/N),

I’m sorry it’s been a while. Honestly, we’ve been so busy, I’ve barely even had the time to sleep. I got news today that we’ll be going to China for an event. I’m coming home, but I figured I should tell you in advance. Give you some time in case you really don’t want to see me.

I still think of you every day. All I want is to hear your voice again, but I won’t ask you to do something you don’t want to. If you have no intention of seeing me, that’s fine. I know I messed this up, but I figured it wouldn’t be right to give up when I’ll be so close.

We’ll be arriving in the next few weeks. I wish I could give you more detailed information, but I won’t even know it until the day of.

If this is it for us, thank you for the time I had with you. I love you, (Y/N). No matter what, that’ll be true, but this will be the last thing I send. I hope you understand.

Love,

Your Chenle

At this point, you’re bawling your eyes out. You aggressively wipe away the tears, cursing yourself for not knowing about these damn letters. All the pain you could’ve helped him through, all the hurt it could’ve saved you from.

You sniffle, grab your phone, and dial the number at the bottom of the second letter. It’s been years since he gave it to you, so there’s a good chance it’s different now. But you don’t exactly feel like going over to his house while his friends are there and making a fool of yourself.

“Hello?” That’s definitely his voice.

“Chenle,” you breathe out, closing your eyes. “My Chenle.”

“Yeah.” His tone softens. “Yeah, yours. Always yours.”

Running your fingers through your hair, you sigh. “I found them. All of them. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “It’s not like you even knew about them. Give me one second, I’m gonna go upstairs. Jeno and Jaemin are still here.”

You nod even though he can’t see you, and you hear him say something to the other guys. They reply, and then you hear the tell-tale sound of the stairs creaking beneath Chenle’s feet. Once he makes it up to his bedroom, he closes the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “That’s a lot to read all at once.”

“I don’t know. I’m so mad, Lele. How could she hide those from me? If I’d known you didn’t just leave me, it would’ve hurt so much less. And seeing all this pain you went through all by yourself…I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he tells you. “We know the truth now. I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” you whisper, burying your head in your palm. “Not even if I tried.”

There’s a brief silence, only filled with the sounds of you sniffling and Chenle breathing. He’s right next door, but the idea of being with him is too real. You need time to process all of this, and bringing him around while you do isn’t the best idea.

“You said you loved me.”

“Love,” he corrects you. “Present tense. I never stopped.”

“I kept up with you.” You play with the seam of your jeans. “With everything you did with Dream and all the accomplishments you’ve had so far. I’ve been so proud of you with no way to say it.”

“I almost stopped writing letters. Mark convinced me not to give up, but after seven years I was pretty sure you wouldn’t change your mind,” he admits.

“If I’d been receiving them I would’ve called you the second you gave me your number.”

“That’s what I’d been hoping for.” Chenle takes a deep breath. “We have to go soon for a schedule, but can I come see you later?”

Later wasn’t really definitive. The thought of him in your house and in your space is scary, terrifying even, but this is Chenle. The boy who used to play piano with you and sing to his heart’s content. From what you’ve seen, this version of him doesn’t seem too different than that boy.

“Please,” you whisper. “Will you be hungry? I can make you something.”

“It’ll be late. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Not too long after your conversation, you hear the three boys clamber into the van. You try to busy yourself throughout the day, cleaning in order to distract yourself. Eventually, you sit down at the piano and play whatever song comes to memory. One of the ones Chenle taught you back when he was here.

You taught yourself a few of Dream’s songs as well, like Rainbow, My Youth, Puzzle Piece, Teddy Bear, and most recently, Like We Just Met from their newest album. You play the last one, the darkness cascading around you as the sunset fades away from view. It’s only you and the starlight now, a gentle melody flooding through the air around you.

The door creaks open, and Chenle walks through when you’re almost done with the song. You stop playing, standing up to greet him. There’s an odd moment where you stand there staring at each other, admiring the way the starlight reflects off his skin. His eyebrows are furrowed, like he’s trying to decide what to do next.

You don’t hesitate anymore. Moving forward, you wrap your arms around him and bury your head in his chest. He immediately reciprocates, shaky breath passing by his lips as he holds you closely. His heart thrashes, the sound more than similar to yours.

“I missed you,” he says.

“I missed you, too,” you reply easily, tightening your grip on him.

You pull back slightly to look into his eyes, wetness gathered beneath them. With shaky hands, you reach up to wipe it away. His gaze travels over your face.

“You love me.”

He nods hesitantly, palms pressing into the small of your back. “Always have.”

“I’ve always loved you, too.” Before you talk yourself out of it, you’re on the tips of your toes to kiss him. It starts gently, your mouth barely brushing his before his breath catches in his throat. Then it’s real—he pulls you flush against him, lips fitting with yours like he’s made for you.

You move your hands from his cheeks to his hair, leaning into him. His fingers latch onto the fabric of your shirt. Next thing you know, he’s walking you backward until he’s pressing your back into a wall.

“We have so much to talk about.” He rests his forehead on yours. “So much air to clear up.”

“Yeah.” You nod, but your stare is focused directly on his lips.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” he warns you. “I don’t get to come here often, so unless you were to come to Korea, we’d pretty much never see each other. My schedules are so packed, I’m practicing all day and half-dead by the time I get home. I can be a real asshole when I’m tired, and sometimes I might take jokes too far. This life is not easy, (Y/N). I need you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“What am I even doing here?” you ask. “I can come with you.”

“I can’t ask you to give up everything you have for me.” He shakes his head, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You’re not asking. Chenle, I spent years thinking you were gone without a word. All I want is to be with you as much as possible.”

“At least think about it for a little bit first, okay? I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” He gulps. “That goes for a lot of things.”

“I’ve had seven years to think about all the things I wanted from you.”

“You can’t say things like that,” he mutters.

You’re painfully aware of what it feels like to have him pressed against you, warm in all the right ways and, despite being so thin, he’s firm to the touch. The ache you feel to be closer to him is overwhelming.

“I spent years thinking everything was a lie,” you tell him. “That I couldn’t possibly have mattered to you if you could just disappear without a word.”

His fingers play with yours, discomfort at the idea plastered across his face. “Never. I never would’ve done that. You’ve always meant so much to me.”

“I’m just happy I finally get to tell you all of the things I wanted to tell you after I found out you were gone.” You give him the smallest smile, and he reaches up to trace along your bottom lip.

The simple touch sends sparks flying down your spine, and you’re sure you’ll crumble to dust right at his feet from the forceful impact of it. An odd tug occurs in your chest, one that has you questioning if you’ve ever experienced it before. It pulls you toward him, and despite being flush, your mind dips to dangerous places that could get you so, so much closer.

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you, but this is Chenle. Your Chenle. And if you’re having these feelings for him, there’s no need to hide it.

“I…” you trail off, clenching onto the fabric of his shirt, right above his heart. “Do you feel it, too? Everything is…different now.”

“Under other circumstances, I’d say different is bad,” he whispers. “But there’s nothing bad about the way you’re looking at me.”

His arms wrap around your waist tightly, and simultaneously, you both lean in until your lips are locked in a gentle battle. The warmth of his touch finds your hip, where your sweater rose up enough to reveal your skin. You let out a shaky sigh, and he squeezes you.

“Come upstairs with me?” Your invite is airy, suggestive, and he analyzes you while his gaze darkens.

“If that’s what you want,” he says.

“Is it what you want?” You tilt your head at him, voice quiet since he’s so close.

He pauses and wets his lips. “Of course, it is. I just don’t want you to regret anything. Losing you once was enough, and I refuse to go through that again.”

Instead of answering, you intertwine your fingers with his and lead him toward the stairs, through the blackness of the night casting through the windows. You take one step at a time, your heart thundering and blood pulsing through your veins. One look at your shoulder, and for a second, you almost swear you see the younger versions of you and Chenle sitting by the piano. Caught up in the music. In each other.

He follows you, entranced by the way you move and how you’re so willingly guiding him. Everything happens in slow motion for you. Too fast but too slow at the same time, somehow the moment you’ve waited for your entire life while simultaneously the thing that’s scared you the most.

Your Chenle.

He said it himself. Why is it so foreign to think about? That maybe, even after all this time, he loves you even an ounce of how much you love him? Endless devotion with no contact. But he did the same—he waited and waited for your response much like you waited for any contact from him. You were both physically and metaphorically in the dark.

The door to your bedroom creaks as you push it open, embarrassed by how little it’s changed since the last time he was in it. The walls are still the same color, faded and paint peeling in some of the corners. Your bed has been swapped from twin-sized to a queen, but everything else is virtually untouched.

No more words are spoken.

They’re not needed.

You don’t need anything. Not when you have him.

He presses your body into the mattress, climbing over you gently. His touch is tender, sweet, not too much pressure. You’re halfway certain you’ll wake up from this dream any time now, and you’ll once again be without him. Without his touch and his love and his truths.

Kissing him is like touching the sun. It burns, nearly enough to make you combust into flames, but magnetic. He is your sun, and you are the Earth. You revolve around him.

Normally, anyone else taking your clothes off would make you nervous, but you know you’re in good hands with Chenle. Your shirt is tossed aside first, his mouth instantly dipping down to explore every inch of exposed skin. His tongue drags along the swells of your breasts, over your collarbones. He nips, teeth leaving shallow indents on your soft flesh.

Your whines are soft, delicately slicing into the silence of the air. The first time he hears you, he freezes, his eyelashes fluttering against your neck as he takes in the way you sound. Quiet cries of ‘more’ escape you while your hands explore beneath his T-shirt.

Never before in your life have you wanted someone with such despracy. Your body aches for him, and the tug in your chest that pulled you closer to him has finally revealed how. As his fingers pop the button on your jeans, you lift your hips.

He pulls his lips away from your chest, gaze honing in on yours. There’s something swirling around in his irises, and you’re sure yours reflect the same. He doesn’t have to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. Not verbally. You nod, guiding his mouth back to yours.

The heat of his touch dips dangerously low, past your jeans and the hem of your panties. You gasp, appreciative of how he catches the sound. You’ve been touched before, but nobody has ever compared to the way he feels. When you’ve met your soulmate, nothing could be better.

He rubs slow circles on your clit, eyes hazy from knowing he’s the one who made you feel this way. Normally, you’d need more. A simple touch wouldn’t be enough to have you squirming in someone’s grasp, but there’s so much more behind his movements than lust.

And he takes it a step further, sliding his long fingers inside you. His gaze focuses on you the whole time, watching your face for any sign of discomfort as he thrusts his hand. He nudges your sensitive bud with the heel of his palm every time he’s knuckle deep.

Your stomach feels elastic, as if you’re stretching a rubber band, and it’s taking everything you have not to let it snap back. It’s too good. Too intoxicating. Too early for it to be over. He swallows your short moans, picking up his pace. You lean up, yearning for his kiss. He doesn’t need to ask, and the second your lips meet, you tighten around him, and it’s over.

Warmth spreads all over your body, your insides boil, and butterflies swarm deep in your stomach. Your eyes shut, and your head falls back against your pillow. He kisses all over your face, humming quietly.

He pulls away from you to help you remove the last of your clothing, the fabric of your panties sticking uncomfortably until he tugs them down your legs.

You reach down to feel him through his pants, unable to stop the shuddering breath that escapes you when you touch his length. He grinds into your hand, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

Finally, nothing separates the two of you anymore. The tip of his cock presses against your entrance, the initial pressure already making you crave more. You need all of him, so you wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his back to tell him to push in further. Your whole body tingles with pleasure, the type enough to make your toes curl, and your chest heaves as you adjust to his size.

His forehead drops against your shoulder, grasping one of your hands in his own to squeeze. He takes you slowly, his throbbing length stretching you to your limits and rubbing your walls perfectly. You were made for him, you’re certain. He fits so well, so completely, there’s no other explanation for it.

He curses under his breath, eyes threatening to flutter shut from the pleasure. Sweat clings to you tighter than Chenle does, but you relish in the way you react to him. His eyebrows pinch as he looks at you for any sign of discomfort.

His name slips past your lips. In that moment, you truly become his, and he becomes yours. Bodies meld together, each one of his thrusts sliding so pleasantly inside you. There’s no sound from either of you besides the brief exchange of names, moans from both of you, and the slick of your wetness.

He kisses you, thrusting at a steady, mind-crumbling pace. His chest brushes against yours, breathing uneven as he clenches the bedsheets next to your head. You quickly realize you could do this forever. The feeling of him so deep inside you would never subside, and you find yourself never wanting to separate from him.

Starlight gleams off his skin, the blue shine accenting the sheen of sweat clinging to him. His muscles contract as he holds himself over you, and his hair hangs over his eyes. All you can do in your current state is push it back, basking in the softness of it.

Picking up his pace, he slides one of his hands down your body, his thumb connecting with your clit. You’re a moaning mess, clinging to him as the familiar sensation returns to the pit of your stomach.

His trembling breath fans across your ear as he leans close. You’re unsure of how to handle all of the pleasure, your body spasming. He presses a kiss on that sensitive spot.

“I love you,” he whispers.

And that’s all it takes to have you shatter around him, your back arching as you grip onto his shoulders for dear life. He moans loudly, hips stuttering as your walls clench. When he spills inside you, it’s as if the last piece of you two finally comes together.

In bliss, you tell him you love him, too, over and over.

He kisses you passionately once more before gently pulling out of you, reassuring you that he’ll be right back so you let go. Grabbing a towel from your bathroom, he cleans you up, gaze drinking up every part of you. Once he’s finished, he crawls next to you in bed, pulling you to his chest.

You’re still certain you’ll wake up, and all of this will have been a dream, but until then, you’re going to enjoy it. Burying yourself in the warmth of his chest, you hum in content when he pulls the blankets over the two of you.

Finally, he’s here.

He’s no longer a memory trapped within the piano keys in your foyer.

He’s your Chenle, never to leave your side again.

#nct dream #chenle #nct imagines #nct #nct dream smut #nct scenarios #nct smut #chenle smut #chenle fluff #chenle angst

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theclairvoyage · 5 months ago

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Mermaid Purse - Part 2 of 3

I know I said this would be 2 parts, but I couldn't help myself :))

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Marine Biologist!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: Summertime in Clearwater, Florida means no school, which means instead of teaching Marine Biology at a local university, you're bartending at The Rusty Sawfish, a bar located on the marina of Clearwater Beach. The owner's friend, who happens to be a sexy, suarthy Texan contractor, moves to town to start over and help his friend with a project, stumbling across you in the process... and you thought summer in Florida couldn't get hotter.

Warnings for Part 2: Minors DNI! adult language, alcohol consumption, violence, mentions of blood, descriptions of a traumatic injury, sexual tension, reader is female, reader is able-bodied, unspecified age gap, allusions to smut, SMUT!, kissing, fingering (f receiving), ass play (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cuddling

WC: 4.5k

Morning arrives, and the air in your room feels different.

Not because there’s a handsome naked man sleeping next to you, though that’s reason enough— but it’s just a feeling. Like the sunshine peeking through the blinds is brighter, the sound of the ocean more soothing than usual, the chirps and calls of birds beyond the window musical instead of annoying.

And speaking of feeling, as you stir under the sheets, the soreness of your muscles and down there awakens. And the urge to pee.

You sit up in bed and peek at the man next to you, whose usual terse, rugged features are now serene. His face relaxed in slumber, lips pouty and hands folded underneath the pillow, messy curls drooping down to his brow. The rhythmic inhale and exhale of his breath. You wonder what, if anything, he dreams of.

Carefully, you stand from the bed and tiptoe to your attached bathroom. Quietly, you shut the door and flip the light on, looking at your naked figure in the large mirror.

Small hickeys cover the skin on your breasts and around your nipples, though he was smart enough to avoid your neck. Several more hickeys line the inner seam of your thigh, reminding you just how good he is with his mouth. The reminiscence fuels your semi-dormant arousal.

Your skin glows, like a vampire in the sunlight. Your hair points in all directions. And your eyes have a glint of mischief, of whimsey. But you did nothing wrong—quite the contrary. And damn, it felt good.

You step back into your dim bedroom and slip under the covers, still warm from his body heat. Pulling your phone from its face-down position on your nightstand, you check the time. It’s still early, before 7:00 AM.

Joel stirs next to you, grumbling as he moves. You’re not facing him, but you can feel him scooting closer to you. He noses behind your ear as he pulls you flush to his chest.

“Been up long?” he murmurs just beneath your ear, leaving kisses on the soft skin there, working his way down to your shoulder. You talk in between breathy moans.

“No,” you say, “maybe fifteen minutes.”

He hums in approval into your skin, turning you on your back and slotting himself between your legs. You look up at him, astounded—how can he look even better when he’s just woken up, all grunts and messy curls and outgrown stubble?

Though he could say the same for you, how a woman so beautiful could be that way wearing nothing but unkempt hair, soft, glowing skin, and a smile on her face. His fingers caress your cheek before stopping at your mouth, a callused index finger prodding at your lower lip, asking for permission. You grant it, letting it enter your mouth, closing your eyes as you suck softly on his finger.

He growls, removing his finger as he bends down to kiss you. It’s all teeth and tongue and spit—messy, hot, and full of unspoken words. You’re not sure how you made it this far in life without passion as tumultuous as this, like this starts a new chapter for you.

Soon, Joel is kissing his way down your body, stopping to admire his artwork. Licking the red marks softly, his lips and tongue apologizing for their misbehavior last night. Murmuring how you taste so good andhow you’re so beautiful. He looks up at you with those flaming amber eyes, full of more unspoken words as he hooks your knees over his shoulders.

“Joel,” you whine, running a finger through his hair as he tastes you again, a whine that quickly turns into a sharp gasp. He hums in satisfaction into your core as he laps you up, groaning again about how you taste so fuckin’ good.

You’re caught between trying to watch his gorgeous face as he works you into a fit of ecstasy, a picture to savor in your mind, and snapping your eyes shut, back arching off the bed at the sheer pleasure he’s giving you.

Eyes on me, baby, he groans into you, rewarding you with two thick fingers and a third in your ass when you obey. And the stretch hurts, tearing into the sore spots, but only for a moment. And then, it’s white-hot and all-consuming and you feel fucking good.

He coaxes your orgasm out of you slowly, a methodical and gratifying mixture of his mouth and fingers. This isn’t his first rodeo, but he knows how to alter his approach to pull those high, breathy moans and gasps from you, giving himself a gold star when you curse and spit his name. And when you finally come on his face, pulling his hair as your muscles spasm, your vision blurs—white, then black, then white again, fuzzy around the edges.

He continues talking you through it—a couple that’s it, baby and curses and god, you’re fuckin’ beautiful, stopping only when your hips slow their circling, and your thighs relax ever so slightly. But he doesn’t give you a break, no—because that was just the warm up.

And then he’s kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue, asking are you ready for me, baby and can you take it again. And you’re nodding fervently, impatient, needing him inside you even though you haven’t yet come down from your first high. He stares into your eyes as he hikes your legs up and over his hips, lines up with your soaked entrance and pushes in, your faces mirroring one another—mouths agape, breaths paused, foreheads close enough to touch.

You’re so full of him, but not full enough—like you can’t ever get enough of him or his cock. His rhythm is slower than last night, but he’s so deep, so attentive to your needs, like all it took was one time to learn you and your body. He can’t take his eyes off you, arching for him and stuffed and crying and whimpering his name. Like it’s the first time he’s heard his name in his entire life.

And he’s a quiet man, but not while he’s inside you—no, then he never seems to shut up. Making sure you know that you’re taking me so well, again that you’re so goddamn perfect, and of course that you feel so fuckin’ good. You wish you could rewind and replay this moment at your leisure.

The kettle is close to boiling, and he’s asking are you close, sweet girl, though you both know you are with each quick pant that leaves your lungs, the way tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you try to hold on, try to keep your focus on him as he thrusts in and out of you. You nod, too taxed and wound up to speak, vexed by his obsidian eyes. Let go, baby, he urges you, hands cupping your face. Come for me. So, you do.

You vaguely register that he’s again talking you through it, praising you, but you can’t tell if your eyes are still open. He follows suit, spilling his hot spend inside you with a whimper as you squeeze him. He lies on top of you, careful not to crush you, a hand smoothing your sweaty hair from your face.

“Y’alright?” He asks, a lopsided smile plastered on his also sweaty but devilishly handsome face.

“I think so. Haven’t really come back yet,” you reply. Then, he kisses you, slowly and softly, a moment so tender you aren’t sure that it’s real.

Moments pass as you lie there, underneath him and still full of him as he softens. Finally, he pulls out of you as you protest, needing to pee again. When he watches you tiptoe to the bathroom and beckon him to join you in the shower, he’s not so soft anymore.

Most of the next hour is spent with Joel on you, inside you, and he’s surprisingly agile and resilient for his age. You’re raw and tired, but you find yourself needing more and more of him, and he you, like your bodies were made for each other—the perfect fit and chemistry.

Around 10:00 AM, you convince him that it’s time for coffee and sunshine, and he obliges. He dissents to your decision to put some clothes on until he sees that it’s his flannel you’re wearing and fights the urge to bend you over the countertop and fuck you for the fourth time this morning. Later, you tell him, promising him with a kiss.

“No work today?” He asks you, sipping black coffee from a dolphin mug, which he begrudgingly accepted from you. You’re pushing eggs and sausage around a pan, feeling his eyes all but burning holes through the back of his flannel you’re wearing.

“Nope. But I do have work to do. You could join me,” you say, turning around to catch him staring. He cocks an eyebrow at you, interested.

“I’m listenin’,” he says, eyes locked on you as he sips from the mug again.

“I’m doing some research on the shark population in this area. Was going to take a boat out and do some tagging, but I think it’ll be too windy,” you ramble, not facing him directly, but turning halfway between the stove and him so he can hear you over the sizzle of food.

“And?”

“And—,” you start, “Gives me a good opportunity to do some old-fashioned surveying.”

“So… you’re gonna swim?” He asks, propping the mug down, which sounds empty now from the way it echoes on the countertop. You hear him stand from the chair and prod over to you, sliding his hands underneath the front of the flannel, warm on your torso. He kisses the skin in front of your ear before working down your jawline and nearly sucking a mark into your neck.

“Food’s burnin’, sweetheart,” he teases you. The food is done, thankfully, so you move it off the hot burner and onto one that’s off. Joel’s still kissing you, waiting for an answer to his question.

“N-no, no swimming—ah, fuck,” you groan, as one hand squeezes your breast while the other travels further south.

“Distracted, are we?” Joel whispers in your ear, spreading your wet folds. “Still so wet for me,” he marvels.

He turns you around, pushing the flannel apart to uncover your breasts and torso, swirling his fingertip around your clit. You gasp, staring into his burning eyes.

“Joel, the food,” you protest. Your stomach flips when he gets on his knees and spreads your legs with his hand. He leans forward to kiss your thigh, chuckling into the skin there.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby—I’m gonna eat,” he says, pulling your leg over his shoulder and devouring you.

After yet another orgasm and some real breakfast, you finally get to tell Joel your real plan for the day—to take a GoPro and a drone and survey the sharks near parts of the beach. He’s more than happy to accompany you.

Once everything is loaded into his truck, you two make haste for the beach. Windy doesn’t quite cover the conditions out here—and the waves are tumultuous. There are various “beach closed” signs posted on the shoreline, and rightfully so. Wind this fast and waves this high make it easy for swimmers to get knocked over and makes it easier for big marine predators to confuse an unsuspecting person for real prey.

“That gonna be a problem for us?” Joel asks as you two stake out a spot on the dock of the marina.

“Nope. I have my school ID. We have clearance to do research in most conditions—obviously at our own risk,” you tell him, getting the GoPro ready. It might be too windy for the drone.

“So, what’re you lookin’ for out here, darlin’?” He asks, watching you set up the GoPro, a laptop, and an iPad for notes.

“Long story short, I’m surveying the shark population here to see if there have been any changes to the health of the ecosystem,” you explain briefly.

“In layman’s terms, sweetheart,” he teases you, wind whipping his curls about his face. You fish a hat out of your backpack and hand it to him. “Thanks, darlin’.”

“Clearwater passed some laws a few years ago to limit fishing and help some endangered shark species recover numbers, so part of our job at the university is to help the city make sure those laws are working—or not,” you explain.

Joel likes watching you talk about this—your childlike zeal, curiosity, and passion make him smile.

“I see why you’re a teacher,” he says, nudging your arm with a smirk. Your cheeks heat.

“Are you making fun of me, Joel Miller?”

“Absolutely not,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you. “I’m kinda amazed, if I’m bein’ honest.”

His confession shocks you. “By me? Why?”

He shrugs before pulling you into his arms, kissing your temple as you settle into him.

“Just somethin’ special about you,” he murmurs into your hair before letting go, tone indicative that he wanted to say more. “Let’s do this thing, eh?”

Giggling, you hand him a spool of thick thread. “This’ll go on the GoPro, and we’ll drop it in. It’s not much, but with humans not being in the water today, we might be able to see some good stuff down here.”

He nods, tying the thread to the GoPro and unspooling several feet. You connect the GoPro to the iPad to make sure it’s capturing video correctly.

“Ready?” You ask him. He makes several tough-looking fancy knots and nods, handing the device to you.

“Must’ve been a Boy Scout,” you tease him, winking. His nostrils flare slightly before he rolls his eyes at you.

“Boy Scout,” he scoffs. “’M self-taught.” You widen your eyes and whistle sarcastically, to which he laughs.

“Alright, let’s drop it here. This is probably 30 feet deep.”

Joel slowly lowers the GoPro into the water, and you both watch the feed as it sinks to the bottom. It’s calmer underneath than it looks from the surface, though still murky. There’s a decent view of the water beyond the dock.

“Now what?” He asks.

“It’s like fishing. We just wait.”

“Now that’s something ‘m familiar with,” he says excitedly, crouching to sit next to you, grunting as he does.

“Are you gonna be able to get back up?” You tease. The rapport between the two of you comes naturally, like you’ve known each other for a while. Joel pinches your side lightly.

“Watch it, sweetheart.”

Over the next hour, a variety of fish and sharks swim in front of the GoPro. Red snappers, groupers, sheepshead, cobias, and sea bass make up the majority of the sightings. All of the sharks were either spinners or blacktips, along with the occasional nurse shark.

Joel was amazed by your expertise of marine life. Each question he had was answered and explained clearly by you—and truthfully, you’re always stoked to share your wealth of knowledge about the ocean world. Usually, you have these conversations with Georgia or one of your students—never a romantic partner. Until now, that is.

Suddenly, a big figure approaches the GoPro from some meters away. You grab Joel’s arm and point toward the screen.

“What is it?” He asks, as intrigued by it as you are.

“Not sure, but it’s definitely a shark,” you whisper.

The shark cruises closer to the camera, and the smaller fish swim away from view. The deep body, blunt snout, and elongated pectoral fins tell you that it’s a bull shark. It’s big, but not record-breaking big—likely 6 feet long.

“Oh, fuck,” you marvel, “It’s a bull.”

The two of you observe it swim toward the camera before turning at the last second. These sharks tend to swim in murky waters and cruise near the bottom of shallower waters. They’re notorious for being aggressive and have been responsible for 26 fatal attacks on humans—plus, with one of the strongest bite forces per weight in the animal kingdom, they are not one to spar with.

“I’ve heard ‘bout these guys. Scary,” Joel says.

“They are nothing to mess with, absolutely. Though scary is a relative term,” you say, half-teasing. Joel nudges you again.

“You sayin’ you’d jump down there with that thing?”

“No way. It’s perfect hunting conditions for them. Windy, cloudier waters—easier for them to catch something that has no clue it’s coming.”

Joel whistles. “How can they even see down there?”

“They can sense electrical impulses via these small pores on their face, so anything with a heartbeat can be detected. They also have a keen sense of smell—which is why you should never go in the ocean when you’ve got an open wound. It’s bait, essentially,” you reply seamlessly.

Joel stands abruptly, looking toward the shoreline. Gone is any semblance of joy from his face. He points in that direction.

“So—we’re in trouble, here, darlin’,” he says sternly, pulling your arm gently to alert you.

Oh, no.

Three kids, likely middle school age, have entered the water. No parents or guardians are anywhere to be found, and with the beach closed, there aren’t any lifeguards.

You check the iPad and see the bull shark has noticed them. They’re 100, 150 meters from the dock, in shallow water—perfect placement for the shark. It darts away from view.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, “We have to get them out of there. Now!”

You leave your stuff at the dock and sprint toward the beach, fast footsteps pounding on the wood. Joel follows suit. A dorsal fin carves through the surface of the water, heading directly for the splashing kids.

“Shark! Get out of the water! NOW!” You scream, lungs raw from sprinting and yelling. The kids don’t hear you until it’s too late.

Suddenly, the dorsal fin makes a sharp turn, and one of the kids goes down. The other two shriek and dash toward you and Joel. An eerie cloud of red billows out from where the shark is as it continues thrashing. The water is so shallow that the shark’s caudal fin is visible, splashing as it whips around.

“Joel, call 911!” You screech. He whips out his phone and obeys.

This is the worst possible scenario for a beachgoer. Panic sets in like a late-night freeze and seizes your lungs. The air inside them is trapped, heavy—like it’s turned to sludge. The kid surfaces from the water, a haunting, waterlogged howl escaping his throat. You grab a long net from the lifeguard chair and sprint over. It’s dangerous for you to enter during an attack, but you have no choice if you want to save this kid’s life. You’re ankle-deep now, the bloody water covering your feet.

Quickly, you spot the dorsal fin and stab where you estimate the gills would be as hard as you can with the blunt end of the net. The caudal fin whips around a few times before charging again. You smack the gills as hard as you possibly can once more, and the shark retreats momentarily. You know it’ll come back soon—time to get out.

The kid surfaces again, reaching for you. He can’t be older than 10. Quickly, you pick him up and move as fast as you can toward Joel. His wails and sobs wrack your soul, and you do your best not to cry. You lie him down by Joel, who has taken his flannel off.

A large, angry bite mark on the child’s left lower leg oozes red onto the sand. He’s screaming still, and his friends are sobbing too. Joel steps in with his shirt and ties it above the bite mark to hinder the bleeding. You hold the child’s head in your hands and look directly into petrified, bright blue eyes.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay,” you try to soothe him, “Look at me. Grab my hands.”

The child obeys, though he’s still sobbing and hyperventilating. Joel stays put near the child’s leg, looking at you with a terrified expression.

Sirens blare in the distance before you see a firetruck and two ambulances pull up. Several cop cars follow.

“Breathe,” you command him. “Just breathe, buddy—you’ll be fine. The paramedics are here.”

The boy nods, unblinking, eyes still glued to yours—like looking at you is numbing the pain temporarily, like if he blinks it’ll start hurting again. In this moment, it’s just the two of you. As if healing energy is flowing from your hands to his head, down to his leg—he calms. Logical you knows it’s just adrenaline covering up the pain, but you’re unfazed by it.

Before you know it, the boy is on a stretcher and taken away in the ambulance. They assure you he’ll be fine, commending you for saving his life—but you don’t feel like it. A kid almost died, and now a shark will likely be killed. Deep down, you know it’s to protect the public—but how many animals—and people—have to die before humans understand that the ocean is a wild, unknown, unfriendly, and unforgiving place?

A deep, soothing voice snaps you back to reality, placating your nerves.

“Y’alright, honey?” Joel asks, rubbing your back softly as you both watch the ambulance leave for the hospital. You swallow loudly, your throat bone dry and stinging, like you’ve been crying. You feel him stare at you, but you can’t look at him. Like if you take one look at those rich amber eyes, you’ll lose the composure you’ve had since pulling the young boy out of the shark’s reach.

“Hey, c’mere,” he soothes, pulling you into his chest, arms firm around your back. Finally, you relax and sink into him, and like a string was pulled, the hot, salty tears start flowing.

Joel comforts you as you weep into his shirt. His large hands span up and down your back, smooth your hair, and squeeze you tight so there’s never a moment when you’re not glued to him. S’okay, sweet girl, he whispers in your ear. Y’saved a life. I’m so proud of you.

Time passes as you two stand there like this. You’re not sure how much, but eventually, he pulls back and cups your face in his hands, swiping away the streaks of tears leaking from your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, smiling. It kind of pisses you off how beautiful he is and how even in pain, he conveys so much tenderness and care.

“Hey,” you croak, giggling. Joel laughs, too.

“There she is.”

He leans in and kisses the tears from your chin and cheeks before stopping at your lips. It’s a gesture so poignant, so compassionate that it almost makes you cry again.

“S’go home, yeah? I’ll cook for you. We can do whatever y’want,” Joel offers, wrapping an arm around you as you return to the dock for your equipment.

You look at him, beaming, still so beautiful to him even though you’ve been crying. Rosy cheeks, puffy eyes, frizzy hair. The sight stops his heart, he thinks.

He could get used to this.

It’s late.

You know you should go to bed—you’re exhausted. Eyes bloodshot from crying, forehead sore from constant furrowing, soles of your feet bruised from pounding on the dock at full force. But Joel has other plans.

First, he made you dinner—and it shouldn’t have shocked you that he’s an amazing cook, given that you know he’s good with his hands, but it did. Juicy chicken, creamy mashed potatoes with chicken gravy, and roasted vegetables, all cooked to perfection. My daughter’s favorite, he recollected. A daughter?! The words came out before you processed what he’d said, eyes giant saucers. He’d laughed—Don’t worry, was gonna tell ya.

And then the real getting to know each other happened. He spilled about his divorce, the custody battle, and his perfect daughter who still lives in Texas. And he asked about your family and why you’re estranged, placed a warm hand on your forearm, thumb rubbing the skin there, as you ranted about your deadbeat dad and alcoholic mother, and the saints of an aunt and grandmother who raised you.

Afterwards, you attempted to do the dishes, as a way of thanking Joel for making dinner—but he insisted he’d do it. Lemme take care of you, he grumbled, while looking at you in a way that made you acquiesce. A look that said he’d either kill you or take you back to your bedroom and ravage you.

As you pulled two beers out of your fridge, prepared to enjoy the evening breeze and sunset on the patio, you turned to find the kitchen empty, instead hearing the gush of bathwater filling up the tub.

Joel led you in by the hand, undressed you, got distracted and caressed your skin, and placed a few tender kisses here and there, which made you shiver. Now that y’got goosebumps, get in the tub, he teased you.

He cracked open the beers and sat on the toilet seat, so you weren’t alone, and asked about a thousand more questions—of sharks, of you, of Clearwater. His eyes twinkled when you answered, fixated only on you. The loud rumble of his laugh echoed in the vaulted bathroom, and you wanted to hear it all night, but again he’d insisted it was time to get out of the tub—before y’turn to a damn prune.

And then he put lotion on the spots you couldn’t reach, combed your knotted hair, tucked you in bed before shimmying out of his jeans and shirt and joining you, rubbing the now-moisturized skin on your back and pressing soft kisses to your forehead. Your fingers crept up and down his stomach, getting closer to where you wanted him most each time they followed the dark trail of hair. Y’sure? he asked. We ain’t gotta do anything f’ya don’t want.

But when he looked down at you and saw the way you needed him and heard the way you whined for him, it became inevitable. And he took care of you in a way no other man had or could attempt to, touching the deepest parts of you, making your pleasure his only passion, bringing you to the peak in each position you wanted him to.

He whispered you’re so beautiful, y’look so good on my cock, love bein’ inside you, love hearin’ you say my name into your ear as you cried out his name and pressed half-moon shapes into his skin, clutching him so close you felt his pulse against your own.

And you squeezed him as hard as you could when he said close, baby—I’m so close, until his hips stuttered, and he groaned your name, and painted hot white streaks inside you.

And now—it’s almost midnight. Gil texted and told you to take tomorrow off, and as many more as you needed until you felt ready. You had tons of other texts, no doubt related to the shark attack, but you had no energy to engage them. Thrilled that you have a full day to do nothing, you sunk into the covers, wrapped in the strong arms of a somewhat stranger, and dozed off to sleep.

Taglist: @burntheedges, @tuquoquebrute, @syd-djarin, @danaispunk, @anoverwhelmingdin <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #mermaid purse

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edosianorchids901 · 27 days ago

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Forte

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "modern"

After decades of living with Sherlock Holmes, Watson was extremely used to music in the middle of the night. Holmes generally tried to play at a reasonable volume when everyone else was asleep, but during times of stress, he didn’t always succeed. And so, Watson had grown accustomed to waking up to strains of violin music floating upstairs to his room.

He didn’t mind. He’d known about Holmes’ musical habits since they first moved in together. Waking up to the sound of the violin meant that Holmes was home safe, and that was what Watson cared about most. The occasional interrupted night of sleep was small price to pay.

At least, when it was only interrupted by a single violin, rather than what sounded like a full orchestra.

Watson jolted awake and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Music still blared from the sitting room, and it certainly wasn’t just Holmes.

What on Earth was he up to? Was it Holmes at all, or had Baker Street been invaded by a murderous band?

A murderous band was unlikely, but Watson shot out of bed anyway. He shoved his slippers on, wrapped himself in his dressing gown, and snatched his revolver just in case. Baker Street had been invaded in the past by assassins, after all.

He crept downstairs and pushed the sitting room door open, ready for anything. But instead of intruders, or even Holmes playing the violin, he found his friend standing next to a strange, trumpet-like contraption that seemed to be playing itself.

“Ah, Watson,” Holmes said, just loud enough to be heard over the music. He touched the machine, adjusting one piece, and the music stopped. “What do you think of my gramophone?”

Watson stared at him. “Your what?”

“My gramophone!” With an outrageously proud expression, Holmes indicated the trumpet-like contraption. “It plays music.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed,” Watson said dryly.

“A wonder of the modern age, Watson.” With relish, Holmes rubbed his hands together and eyed the gramophone eagerly. “I was simply running a little test to see if it worked. I’ve purchased an assortment of records with the generous compensation from that rather commonplace missing person’s case. Would you care to test one of the other records?”

Watson rubbed his eyes again, bleary. “Can’t we test it in the morning, Holmes?”

“Morning?” Holmes glanced at the window, as if he hadn’t noticed it was one in the morning. “Dear me, I’ve awakened you. A thousand apologies, my dear fellow.”

Exhausted, Watson sank onto the settee and set his revolver on the small table. “It’s all right. I’m just glad you weren’t being murdered.”

Holmes gave him and the revolver a thoroughly baffled look. “Well, I am pleased to report that today has been entirely free of anyone attempting to murder me. Unless, of course, you intend to exact revenge for my disruption of your sleep.”

“I’m very used to you disrupting my sleep, old man,” Watson said, settling back. “It’s Mrs. Hudson you have to watch out for. She is very fond of you, but if you rouse her with a full orchestra…”

“Ha! Quite right. I shall resist the temptation for further testing until the morning.” A smile tugging at his lips, Holmes poured two glasses of brandy. “These modern devices never fail to astound me, Watson. It is a wonderful world we live in, full of such ingenuity and brilliance, brimming with inventions and solutions to every problem.”

“They should invent a device that lets people actually get some sleep,” Watson said, amused despite himself.

“Why should anyone want that? Sleep is so dull.” Holmes sat on the settee as well, his eyes bright. “Now, do drink your brandy, and allow me to regale you with all the fascinating little details about my purchase.”

Amused, Watson took the brandy and sat back to listen to Holmes’ excited chatter. Watson’s own interests in the modern world lay more in the direction of medical advances, particularly the ones that might allow him to save Holmes’ life in the event of actual threats.

But there were no threats now, aside from the dangers of sleep deprivation. And Watson didn’t mind a little sleep deprivation, not when the tradeoff was spending more time with Holmes.

#granada holmes #sherlock holmes #john watson #fluff

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kittyball23 · 1 year ago

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Young Love (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: What if our Main 7 Trolls had met years earlier?

__________________________________________

BroZone’s performance, judging by the round of applause and standing ovation, was astounding that night. The music was sharp, the harmonies were tight. It was a performance so good that it could bring one to tears… which is exactly what it had done to Floyd.

Backstage, the brothers stood in a half-circle around the magenta Trolling, who hastily wiped away the water from his eyes only to have more replace it the next instance.

“Come on, bro! What you got to be crying for?” John Dory asked. “We rocked the house!” To emphasize, he gave Floyd a playful punch on the shoulder, and then promptly went to fist-bump Spruce and high-five Clay for their accomplishments.

“I know,” Floyd whimpered, though he was still unable to help himself when more tears continued to come.

But right before Spruce could make a comment about how red his eyes were looking, or before Clay could start sniggering that he was being a crybaby, a new voice broke into their circle with pretty much the same question that both the purple and yellow Trolling had in mind.

“Oh my, why the tears? I thought the performance was lovely!”

The boys whirled around, nearly stunned out of their vests at the sight of the Pop Village’s royalties, standing right there in all their glory - King Peppy and Princess Viva themselves!

They collectively gasped, speechless at their presence, though surprisingly, Floyd was the first to actually muster the voice to speak up.

“They’re not sad tears,” Floyd sputtered. “They’re happy tears!”

“Ohhhh,” the king said, chuckling. “I understand what you mean.”

Viva giggled. “The minute Daddy saw my little sister he couldn’t stop crying!” she explained.

Then, as if it was on cue, the boys heard a light giggling coming from atop the king’s head. A fond smile grew on King Peppy’s face, and he reached into his bright pink hair to pull out an equally bright-pink-haired baby Trolling.

They gasped once more. “Princess Poppy!”

The baby giggled at the mention of her name and babbled sweetly. Then, her babbling turned into somewhat of a tune – a familiar one at that, because it almost sounded like the song that they’d been singing onstage.

King Peppy laughed and fondly nuzzled his daughter before setting her down so she could toddle out a few moves. “Ah yes, she just loved your performance, too. Can’t get enough of it!”

John Dory smirked and crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, I guess she knows talent when she sees it!”

Spruce, who was being humbler on the matter, gasped and elbowed his brother. “JD!”

John Dory gave him a confused look. “What?”

King Peppy laughed at the interaction. “Not to worry youngling, he’s actually right.”

Viva nodded her head in agreement, her golden pigtails bobbing. “You all really are talented. I really loved your Rusty Robot, Clay!” she said, referring to the dance move that the yellow-haired Trolling was best known for.

Surprised but pleased to hear the future Queen of Pop compliment him so, Clay blushed. “Oh! Um, th-thanks.” He looked away bashfully.

“And the baby – Branch, was it? – he is absolutely wonderful!” King Peppy added.

Spruce had to grin at that. “I know, right? I taught him some of those moves, by the way!”

JD scoffed and rolled his eyes. Who was being cocky now? His thoughts were interrupted when his littlest bro toddled at his feet, already back in the dancing groove that he had onstage. The baby was really getting into it, swaying and rolling his hips and bobbing his head without a care in the world! Well, that was until his gaze landed upon the youngest pink Pop princess.

Branch paused mid moonwalk and his blue eyes grew wide. Princess Poppy noticed him, too, and couldn’t resist giggling joyfully at him. Branch, adoring the sound of her infectious laughter, grinned broadly, showing off his one tooth, and toddled over to her. Full of confidence, he pulled off the move that Spruce had taught him – the one that he said would make girls swoon, and had indeed done just that when he went upon the stage that night – winking and putting on a suave smile while extending his hand out to her. But Poppy didn’t faint or grab hold of his hand to brush their fingers together. The pink Pop princess instead took little Branch completely off guard when she leaped up at him, wrapped her pink arms around his neck and attacking him with a fierce hug. Branch let out a squeak of surprise, but then hugged her right back just as tight.

By this point, the conversation between the king, Viva, and the brothers had paused as they were all looking down at the two babies.

“Awwww, that’s so cuuute!” Floyd gushed, the scene only prompting more tears to flow out of his eyes.

“Well, looks like Branch has got himself a little girlfriend before you,” Clay teased, nudging Spruce.

The purple-haired Troll rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry. “Oh, please, bro. I had a girl when I was just an egg!”

“What?” Clay laughed. “No you didn’t!”

“Yeah I did!” Spruce insisted.

“Uh, no, you didn’t,” John Dory said. Spruce shot him a look and JD scoffed. “Dude, I was there to see that you didn’t!”

A back and forth suddenly began, in which Spruce argued that he would one day have a harem of girls, and JD teased him greatly for even thinking such a thing. Clay too was roped into the conversation, to which he supported JD’s point of view, and Floyd simply hung back, stating that he took up neither argument and would very much appreciate skirting the topic of girls altogether.

But amidst all the squabble, Baby Branch could hardly care less to pay any mind to it. He was hugging a real cute gal, and she was hugging him right back! Her hug was so warm and snug, he felt like he could cuddle against her soft, pink figure all day. There was something so comforting, so distinguishably wonderful about being in Princess Poppy’s embrace that it canceled out any negative thoughts that he could ever have.

Branch didn’t know how long the hug lasted, but he did know one thing - this was definitely the start of a beautiful friendship!

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #broppy #branch trolls #poppy trolls #viva trolls #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #brozone #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball writes #100+

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art-missy · 9 months ago

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Overwhelmed (Gekko x Reader)

Part. 1 Part. 3

Part. 2

Sorry in advance for my terrible English. I'm actually more of an English reader and listener than an actual speaker or writer. I also apologize for the dull writing style that could seem quite childish. I just wanted to test something by posting this.

If a few months ago somebody had told you that you would be spotted by a secret organization whose job is to protect your world against the threat of agents from another dimension, you would have laughed so hard that your guts would have spitted out. If that ‘somebody’ had continued with the fact that this organization would contact you in some way to recruit you just because you maybe took down a K-SEC facility by yourself and also because your skills interested them, you would have told them to sell their idea to a filmmaker. If that ‘somebody’ had then insisted that you would spend one of your days off with a few other agents of that organization by watching Disney movies and hearing them sing their guts out, you would have told them to stop.

Well, look at you now, exchanging astounded glances with Iso as Neon reached a note so terrifying that you were pretty sure she could have won the Oscar of the best scream in a horror movie. You were slightly worried about the state of her vocal cords.

“And she’s not even drunk.” Muttered Yoru when he saw your dumbfounded expression as he finished his can of soda. Phoenix let out a booming laugh and nudged your and Iso’s arms playfully.

What the hell were you doing here ? You were so at peace in your hideout. How did Valorant find you ? Oh yeah. Cypher. No one can hide from the Moroccan sentinel and you understood it quite quickly when he appeared in each of your hideouts everytime you tried to run away. Hard to hide from someone whose eyes are literally everywhere. It has been quite hard for him too to convince you that the intentions of Valorant were noble when he appeared each time in the middle of the night like a sleep paralysis demon. The process of convincing you had been long and hard but Cypher was patient and quite stubborn. Especially when it came to visiting each of your hideouts (even the one under the Mediterranean Sea) and finishing all your different packs of tea. Well, at least you had now Big Brother as a mentor.

You jolted a little, startled when Raze and Killjoy suddenly stood up to start a duet while waltzing around the room. The level of love and affection in their eyes made you wonder if they weren't from a Disney movie themselves. You could literally see their eyes changing form to turn into hearts as their souls were screaming ‘I love you’ in their respective languages. And you found it adorable despite your exhaustion.

Jett playfully threw some popcorn at the couple, telling them to get a room. You’re pretty sure she didn't notice the few candy and crumbs of snacks in her ponytail.

Clove were jumping on the different bean bag chairs, singing as if their life depended on it while Wingman cheered at their antics.

And you, you let out a small sigh as you took a sip of your bubbletea. All this chaos because of Frozen.

You swore that if you heard the songs ‘Love is an open door’ or ‘Let it go’ again, you would go apeshit.

You maybe should have join Deadlock for a reading session in her quarters instead of accepting Gekko’s invitation. Or just listening to music in your room. Or maybe drawing. You were certain that it would have been more peaceful and less mentally draining than this Disney night. And when you shared another glance with Iso, you knew he thought the same thing. It was visibly way too much for your introverted asses.

“Hey,” Gekko put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay ?”

You shot him a tired look.

You sometimes miss your old life. You missed your different hideouts where you could see the sunset over the mountains, the sea creatures under the Mediterranean Sea, the snow in the Siberian desert or the rain falling on the trees of a random forest. Where you didn't have to interact with people every single day of the week.

You loved the Valorant protocol and you got along with the people you met there. But sometimes it was too much. You took down this K-SEC facility because you knew how shady the experimentations they were running were, not because you wanted to attract the attention of a secret organization. You sometimes resented Cypher for finding you, for stealing you from these calm moments, even though you knew that you accepted to be an agent of Valorant of your own free will and for a good cause.

“Hey,” Repeated Gekko. “Are you okay ?”

You gently pushed his hand off your shoulder and stood up from your bean bag chair.

“Sorry.” You muttered.

And you rushed out of the room as Gekko called for you, his tone full of worry. You speed-walked towards the garden of the base, putting your headphones on your ears and slightly relaxing when the music reached your brain. You took a deep breath and the wind caressed your skin as you finally walked into the gardens. You took off your shoes and let the grass tickle your bare feet. The night sky watched over you as you finally took a seat on a bench.

Better.

You felt better. You breathed better. You lived better. The music in your ears relaxed your muscles, and the wind murmured on your skin, bringing the fragrance of the different flowers of the garden. You definitely had to compliment Sky and Sage.

Your phone suddenly vibrated and you noticed that Iso sent you a link to a playlist.

⟨Here. To relax your nerves.⟩

You internally smiled and sent a text message to the Chinese duelist to thank him. You started the playlist and relaxed even more when the first note of the first song reached your ears. Iso really did have good taste in music.

You were about to close your eyes when you suddenly felt a finger patting your shoulder. You jolted a little and turned your head to the side to see Cypher’s blue lenses staring back at you. You pulled your headphones down and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Big Brother is watching me ?”

The sentinel let out a small chuckle and sat down beside you, a trap wire traveling on his knuckles.

“Overwhelmed ?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I thought I was Big Brother.”

You rolled your eyes but a small smile tugged the corners of your lips. You leaned on the backrest of the bench and let out a deep sigh.

“I’m not in the mood for a game of chess, Cypher.”

The masked man nodded and hummed softly.

“I suspected it.”

“Then why are you here, Optimus Prime ?” You groaned, stretching your arms over your head.

Cypher’s head tilted slightly and by his body language you suspected a smirk to be present under his mask.

“To check on you, dear.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow and your eyes squinted slightly.

“Right. And may I ask why, dear ?” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes again. “Wait. Let me guess. You saw me walking away from the common room through these cute little cameras of yours, got curious when you couldn't see me then came here.” You interrupted yourself then shook your head. “Nope. There are also cameras in the garden. Then why did you come here ?”

Cypher let out another small chuckle and patted your head with an odd but paternal affection.

“Look who’s playing Sherlock, now.”

You let out an annoyed groan as you tried to push his hand away from your head but Cypher’s mood stayed playful.

“What kind of mentor would I be if I didn't worry about my protégé ?”

You snorted but nodded with a sarcastic smile.“More of a stalker than a mentor.”

“A stalker who is worried about you, then.”

You couldn't see it but you heard the soft smile in his voice. He leaned a bit more towards you, the brim of his long hat hid you from the night sky and the usual faint glow of his blue lenses looked like two little will-o’-the-wisps in the obscurity of the garden. It reminded you of the first time you met each other, a few days after you took down this K-SEC facility. It was in a dark alleyway and the first thing you saw was these blue lenses before you could make out his long and slender figure. But because of his long hat and the darkness of the alleyway, you had almost taken him for a mutated palm tree. Even today you facepalmed yourself when you remembered those thoughts as your eyes stared into his lenses.

“Who eats alone, chokes alone.” He finally whispered with a conspiratorial tone. Something was telling you that he winked under his mask.

“What ?” You facepalmed.

“It’s an Arabic proverb.” He leaned back and his head tilted again. “Loneliness is neither your ally, nor your enemy. It is impartial. In your case, you use it to recharge yourself, but it can also drain you without you noticing, making you depend on it. Use your loneliness but don’t be alone.” His voice dropped a few octaves lower and you felt his eyes sinking deeply into yours. “Use your balance.”

Something was telling you that he was speaking from experience. A slight twitch in his body language maybe. Or a tiny heaviness in his already thick accent, indication of the unusual emotions in his voice. And you realized just now how little you knew about your mentor.

Cypher nodded, as if satisfied by your visible confusion, stood up from the bench and started to walk away.

“Wait a minute, Darth Vader !” You exclaimed, pointing a frustrated finger at him. “I don't speak proverbial shit and neither does google translate. Come back here or I’ll tell Sky you put cameras in the garden !”

Cypher kept walking away, humming a soft tune.

“Speaking of balance…”

“I don’t understand the proverbial shit, you cheap Cyberpunk shit !”

“Have a good night, dear.” He turned towards you briefly. “Oh, and your strawberry teas are delicious.”

This fucker.

He kept walking away until going back inside and you suddenly heard hurried footsteps. You turned your head and saw Gekko and Wingman running in your direction before stopping in front of you.

How did you know it was Gekko with the lack of light ? First of all, Wingman. Second of all, his hair.

Gekko was catching his breath with his hands on his knees while Wingman jumped on your lap, making a few garbling sounds. You raised an eyebrow and looked at them, confused.

“Are you dying ?” You asked Gekko and your eyes widened slightly when he started to wheeze. “Gekko ?”

“Dios !” He exclaimed as he finally caught his breath. “I looked for you throughout the whole base !”

“Did you have to run a marathon for that ?”

Despite your dry tone, your eyes only showed concern for him. You patted the space beside you on the bench and he gladly sat down. He then looked at you and despite the obscurity, you were certain his brows furrowed in worry.

“Are you okay ?”

You shot him a deadpanned look.

“You put your legs through a nocturnal torture by running like a possessed fool throughout the whole base, found me here relaxing in the garden while the soft fragrance of flowers and the night sky kept me company, and ended up wheezing like a dying man about to spew his lungs out and you are asking me if I’m okay ?”

You looked at his figure from head to toe as he chuckled at your small outburst. He was still a bit out of breath from his little run but he seemed quite fine.

“Damn ! Your descriptions are always so…special. Clove would definitely love you to be the Dungeon Master of their next DnD game.” His laugh calmed down and he nervously cleared his throat. “Anyway. I wanted to check on you. You didn't seem fine in the common room. Are you feeling a bit better now ?”

You shot him a bored look and let a deep sigh out of your lungs. Wingman made a few high chirped noises indicating his worry.

“You really love wasting your time, don’t you ?” Your eyes wandered on the night sky. “Aren't you missing the end of the movie ? Shouldn't you be inside with your friends ?”

Gekko frowned and looked at you funny.

“You’re my friend too.”

You let out a small snort that only deepened his frown.

“I’m serious.” He insisted. “We’re maybe not as close as you are with Cypher or Deadlock or… Iso, but I see you as my friend and I will always have your back.”

You looked back at him and even though you couldn't see him clearly because of the obscurity, you felt his eyes looking at you with a fierce determination.

“Plus,” he continued, “you always have my back on the field, fighting like a total badass against the enemies. Remember our last mission in Lotus ? I would have been dead meat if you weren't there.”

Wingman (who had gotten comfy on your lap) nodded with vehemence, agreeing with Gekko’s words.

“I’m not quite sure if you can be ‘dead meat’ when someone like Sage is around.” You said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Gekko made a noise between an amused chuckle and a sigh of frustration. You couldn't figure out what was on his mind, which is quite surprising since he was usually so expressive. He then suddenly got closer to you on the bench, grabbed your shoulders and leaned a bit more towards you.

“My point is : you got my back and I got yours. You're my friend and I won’t leave you alone.” His fingers gently squeezed your shoulders. “And I’m sorry.”

It was now your turn to frown as you did not understand why he was apologizing for.

“I invited you to this movie night so I could have an occasion to get to know you better, so we could get to know each other and bond on something that is not mission related.” He explained. “But you clearly weren't at ease. I thought you were about to have a panic attack, back there.”

You felt his thumbs caressing your shoulders as his hands squeezed you a bit more tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head and let out another sigh. “Don’t apologize. Your intentions were innocent and sweet.”

You couldn't see the blush on his cheeks but you noticed the slight twitch in his body language.

“Everything's fine.” You insisted. “I’m perfectly fine. Plus, with the new playlist Iso sent me, I can just relax and enjoy the quietude of the garden.”

“Oh.” He said simply.

His voice showed disappointment, sadness even. You vaguely felt his grip on your shoulder faltering a little while Wingman made a few sad garbling sounds.

“Gekko ?”

You couldn't see his face, but his body language showed a slight dispiritedness that didn't match his usual playful and confident personality.

“You and Iso are really close, huh.” He said with an uncharacteristically neutral tone.

His shoulders were now slightly slumped.

“Well, we had heard about each other before we joined Valorant. It was funny to finally meet the infamous ‘Dead Lilac’ in this secret organization.” You chuckled a little, finding the circumstances of your first meeting with the Chinese duelist quite embarrassing. You remembered knocking your head so hard against his chest that it spinned a little.

“That’s…uhm…kinda cute, I guess.”

You wondered what was on the mind of the piece of sweet-woman-heartthrob-trope that Gekko was.

“Well I don't know if it’s cute, but we’ve been exchanging playlists and book recommendations since.” You shrugged and Gekko’s hands slided down your arms at your action. “He’s cool. He has a sweet ‘older sibling’ vibe that put me at ease.”

The young initiator seemed to perk at your words and so was his radivore critter.

“‘Older sibling’ vibe ?” He repeated. “What do you mean ?”

“Well, you see how siblings sometimes banter with each other but always have each other's back ?” You started to explain and you saw his figure tilting his head. “Well that's our relationship with Iso. You probably know what I’m talking about. I noticed that you had quite the same thing with Neon.” You shrugged again.

His whole demeanor seemed to relax when he let out a laugh filled with relief. You frowned a little, not understanding this sudden outburst of joy.

“You alright ?” You raised a worried eyebrow and squinted your eyes a little. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

It was at this moment that the moon finally decided to come out of behind the clouds, illuminating both of your faces. You both looked at each other, admiring your features. Your eyes wandered on his freckles without noticing his lovestruck gaze on you.

“Maybe I'm a bit tired.” He whispered with a lost tone, as if he didn't understand what he just said.

“Hm.” You looked down on your lap to notice Wingman shrinking and hopping towards Gekko’s shoulder. “Wanna go back inside ?”

“You’re going back inside ?” Gekko asked.

“No.”

“Then I’ll stay with you.” He got more comfortable on the bench and you felt him lean a bit more towards you. “Unless my presence is overwhelming.”

You shook your head and leaned against the backrest of the bench.

“No. You’re fine.”

“Cool.” He nodded and let out a small sigh of relief.

A comfortable silence settled between you, slightly disturbed by the faint music from your headphones. Your eyes wandered on the night sky, unaware of Gekko’s longing glances in your direction. You were completely oblivious to his poor heart beating so fast and so loud that he feared you could hear it. You did not notice. You never did. Ever since you set your foot into the base for the first time, his eyes were always on you. At first it was curiosity. Curious about the agent recommended by the mysterious man that was Cypher. Then it was admiration for the fierce fighter that you turned into once on the field. And finally, it bloomed to be a small crush that never ceased to grow. Your charisma hypnotized him. His feelings for you were so obvious that his friends never stopped to tease him. Even Reyna said that he looked like a lost puppy everytime you were around and Harbor often asked him to focus when you were in his field of view. And of course, he was jealous of how close Iso was with you. The duelist could talk to you without any problem, he could receive your smiles, your laughs, your friendly fist-bumps while the only times Gekko could have a proper interaction with you was during missions or briefings. Even during training you stayed in your corner, avoiding interactions.

But right now, he felt so happy. This was the longest interaction you’ve ever had with each other and he couldn't help but smile.

He turned his head in your direction and softly called you.

“Yeah ?”

“I heard that you love to draw.” He nervously rubbed his neck but kept his eyes on yours. “We could someday, you know, draw together while chilling in my room. If it’s okay with you of course.”

You shot him an indescribable glance and he suddenly felt so stupid for not using drawing as a way to bond with you sooner instead of the movie night. But he relaxed a little when you ended up shrugging.

“Why not.”

It was a start. He will not confess his feelings for now. It was way too soon. But he will certainly enjoy these moments with you. He will enjoy bonding with you and get to know you better.

Anecdote : the Arabic proverb mentioned by Cypher is something the father of a friend once told me when I was a kid. It's stuck in my mind, ever since.

I'm not proud of the ending ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ But it's fine. It is just a test, after all.

I don't know if I'll post the part. 2. I'll most probably keep it in my drafts.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I wish you a lovely day/night.

#gekko x reader #valorant x reader #gekko x you #valorant imagines #★nana is writing…

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smash-64 · 12 days ago

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2024 Game of the Year Countdown #2: The Legend of Heroes: Trails in the Sky Sony PlayStation Portable, 2011

According to my save data, I have not played the first installment of the Trails series in six years! This is quite astounding since I think about Trails on the daily, and going in with all the knowledge I have picked up since last playing it, I am fully enjoying all the little bits of lore that are continually sprinkled throughout the dialogue and story. It makes me wonder exactly how much of the larger story had been planned out when Trails in the Sky was initially released in 2004, as we have now celebrated 20 years of this ongoing and highly interconnected series of 13 games (11 localized).

Trails in the Sky for the PSP is very much an older style JRPG that would feel at home on the PS1 during the Golden Age of JRPGs. Going back to play it after playing the most modern games reminds me of how much the patience of players has been eroded over the years. You can’t skip battle animations. Menu navigating is slow and saving is slower. There is only a very small amount of voice acting, all reserved for combat phrases and grunts. However, these are simply part of the charm of games from this era, and something that I became accustomed to very quickly.

The inclusion of voice acting in modern games is a great thing, but I think it can take away from the wonderfully depicted character portraits that are full of emotion and nuance as developers have seemingly decided that having both is not necessary. Falcom has yet to reach the same heights with their 3D animation that they had with these 2D portraits. The subtle differences are really cool and I wish we’d get some sort of return to this at some point. Maybe some sort of mini-installment as a flashback DLC or something? I doubt we’d ever get something like that, but I can always wish.

The first Trails in the Sky game, commonly referred to as FC (First Chapter), is undoubtedly the slowest of slow burns when it comes to JRPGs and Trails games, which is really a thing to behold since Trails prides itself on such things. If you want fast, high-flying and nonstop action, you’re going to be sorely disappointed in this game. Luckily, I was not looking for anything other than a fantastic story and world into which I could dive and be fully immersed. Sky FC is the most charming and immersive entry point to the Trails series. I found myself genuinely wanting to spend time just existing in the Trails world. Walking the streets, visiting the restaurants, seeing the sights, watching the plays. I want to live here!

Estelle Bright remains my all time favorite video game character, and getting to see her grow from a young and inexperienced rookie to a more level-headed senior Bracer by the end of FC was a joy for me. The charm and endearing dialogue that we got in the Sky series has yet to be matched, despite the great work we’ve seen in the Crossbell and Erebonian arcs.

There’s just something that has been somewhat lost as the stories and settings have become larger and with dozens upon dozens of characters. I won’t go too far down that road, but it was refreshing to come back to a much more intimate journey once again.

Players who did not start with Trails in the Sky may find the combat to be a bit difficult at times, especially on higher settings since the games weren’t balanced for anything other than Normal. Aidios help you if you decide to play on Nightmare! I played on Hard with my NG+ save and still had to restart a couple of fights. I didn’t exactly make it easy on myself since I brought the precious cinnamon roll, but absolute glass cannon, Tita Russell, with me to the final gauntlet of boss fights, but I couldn’t pass up putting all my favorites together.

Music plays a key role in JRPGs and Falcom is well known for good compositions. Simple location tunes set the tone wonderfully with songs like “A Cat Relaxing in the Sun” and “Ruan.” Meanwhile, “Sophisticated Fight,” while perhaps a bit overplayed, is a nice break from what many traditional JRPG battle tunes sound like. “Silver Will” is an obligatory inclusion in any Sky music discussion, and “Decision to Leave” brings a soft, sad, distant piano sound to a key moment. However, my favorite is still “Hoshi no Arika,” the song that plays during the credits and closing shots. It fits the mood perfectly and brings a tear to my eye as the game rips me in two, demanding I play the sequel once I recover.

Trails in the Sky is just as good today as it was when I first played it, and it continues to be the best entry point to the Trails series, should anyone who has been blatantly ignoring my pleas for the past few years decided to change their minds. It exudes the same sort of feeling that the Golden Age of JRPGs had and that many people desperately miss in modern gaming. With the announcement of a 3D remake coming in 2025, there is no longer the “it looks old” excuse for JRPG fans.

#trails in the sky #sora no kiseki #falcom #Nihon falcom #psp #Estelle bright #Joshua bright #jrpg #game of the year countdown #goty

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bookishswordfish · 15 days ago

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My Unasked-For Thoughts About Epic: The Ithaca Saga

The final saga has been released, and it is such a bittersweet moment. Here are my takeaways:

Anna Lea IS Penelope. Her voice is truly wonderful and the emotion she conveys is palpable

The suitors’ background vocals are *chef’s kiss*

Waiting, waiting…something something two of the most important women in Odysseus’s life found connection in their love and grief over Odysseus’ absence

I don’t think you understand the grip “Hold Them Down” has on my soul

I will undoubtedly love anything with the suitors because I am a sucker for harmonies, and they have such good ones for no reason

“Where is he, where is the man who can string this bow-ow-oww-ow” and the way it drops it only vocals on -ow-oww-ow

The grit in Ayron Alexander’s voice is delicious and the performance he gives is astounding

The disgust and horror that is evoked in me as Antinous details his plans for Penelope…..that’s the sign of a good storyteller right there

I love how there are different voices for all of the suitors

Odysseus aiming for the torches…….“We are the same, you and I”

‘Scuse me, Eurymachus, you are not allowed to say “open arms”

Speaking of open arms, what the actual fuck, Jorge??? You just HAD to go and throw that in there, didn’t you?

THAT GLISS

Jorge’s “evil voice” is insane, man

“Odysseus” ending with the chorus singing “O-dy-sse-us” like in “No Longer You” and a single low note like in “Monster”

“I Can’t Help but Wonder” beginning with the same intro as “Just a Man” but lower and in strings, then morphing into “Legendary” as another connection between Astyanax and Telemachus

“Father” “Son”

Mico’s falsetto is so, so lovely

“Warrior of the Mind” callback, hell yeah

Odysseus and Athena now living the other’s initial philosophy on how to greet challenges because they had opposite character arcs

PENELOPE IS HIS GIRL

I am such a strings person

Of course I’m crying, how could I not????

The different melodies as Odysseus is explaining what happened is incredibly clever (Ruthlessness, Puppeteer)

THE WEDDING BED MENTIONED

How is this “waiting, waiting” so much more devastating??

“for” being in the same tune as “Odysseus” at the end of “Different Beast” because it leads into her saying “you” to Odysseus

How Many Times Can Jorge Sprinkle In “Just a Man” In One Saga Challenge

I LOVE YOU

To conclude, my song rankings:

Hold Them Down

Would You Fall in Love With Me Again

The Challenge

Odysseus

I Can’t Help but Wonder

There is not a single miss in this saga, but, alas, into a list they must go. I have loved this musical with everything. It’s been a wonderfully wild ride.

#epic the musical #epic the troy saga #the troy saga #epic the cyclops saga #the cyclops saga #epic the ocean saga #the ocean saga #epic the circe saga #the circe saga #epic the underworld saga #the underworld saga #epic the thunder saga #the thunder saga #epic the wisdom saga #the wisdom saga #epic the vengeance saga #the vengeance saga #epic the ithaca saga #the ithaca saga

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shimii26 · 1 month ago

Text

Sugary Temptations

126 days after the crash…

“Leeeet’s paaartaaayy!” shouted Daisuke in his drunken state.

“That’s right kid, get your dance on, hahaha!” Swansea agreed with him and boogied in place.

“Guys c’mon, I think you’ve had enough today…” Anya sighed, watching them from afar.

It had been two months since the crew of the Tulpar discovered the cargo they were instructed to deliver for over a year turned out to be nothing but an ocean of alcoholic Dragonbreath brand mouthwash. Since it was quite clear to most of the crew that there would most likely never be a rescue team coming out to save them as they’ve been off course for months, Swansea and Daisuke decided that the Pony Express’s threat of docking pay for participating in what was being shipped was now worthless words, so they started to dip into the cargo and enjoy a taste.

Or two.

Or a few dozen bottles…

Despite her desperate need to distract her thoughts of their impending doom, Anya had decided not to partake in the mouthwash for numerous reasons, and Jimmy wanted to focus on ‘fixing’ everything that was going on around them. Curly was in no condition to be consuming any amount of alcohol, he was currently taking constant painkillers, which could be very damaging to his body. He could only have water and easy to swallow foods, so it was mainly just a two-man party on the ship. Daisuke had been brainstorming today about something else fun they could do together, and he stepped over to Swansea with a sudden plan brewing in his head, dancing over to him in the process.

“Heeeyy Swansea, I gots a plan I think you’re gonna liiiike!” he proposed with a tune in his voice.

“Aww yeah? Whatcha got for me, boy?” Swansea wondered with a smile towards him.

“I think Jimmy left the code scanner, next to his bed!” Daisuke giggled. “Let’s borrow it and find the code to the sweetener supply!” “...Y’know, that ain’t a baaaad idea, kiddo!” he nodded. “Hahaha, let’s do it, we can make another cake with it, why not?”

“-What? Guys, no we-”

Anya overheard their conversation, but figured this wouldn’t be an argument she’d probably win. Afterall, what else would the crew use the packs of sweetener and gelatin for?

She sighed. “...Oh forget it..”

“Let’s do iiiiittt!” Daisuke sang and skipped over to Jimmy’s sleeping bag, picking up the code scanner from the floor. “Got it!”

“The code should be on this page!” Swansea showed Daisuke, flipping through the provided Pony Express cookbook. “...Here it iiiiis, go on, scan it!” Daisuke checked for the code and Swansea punched the numbers into the packet machine several times, withdrawing multiple packs at once. Then Swansea prepared the cake as Daisuke withdrew the water and gelatin from the packet machine and handed it to him, eventually making another subpar birthday cake for them to feast on. Anya watched from afar, almost astounded that the two of them somehow didn’t fuck the recipe up. The nostalgic birthday music played once their delicious treat was created, further tickling the drunken excitement in their heads.

“Hell yeah, let’s eat!” Daisuke woohooed out loud, taking the waxy birthday candles out of the cake and sucking the white frosting off of them.

“Aaaalright alright, lemme cut us some slices!” Swansea chuckled, grabbing a nearby butter knife from the kitchen drawers and began to cut the pastry.

Daisuke sat on top of the counter and kicked his feet while he watched Swansea do his thing. Once the cake was cut into several triangle slices, the two of them clinked their mouthwash bottles together in a toast.

“Hear hear!” they shouted at the same time.

They took a bite of their slices, getting frosting all over their faces and clothes. Anya cringes in disgust, her nausea reemerging and occupying her full attention. Swansea finished his slice in almost record time as the Pony Express cake was one of his favorite work foods, and decided he was satisfied and returned to his dancing by the main lounge screen with his axe. Daisuke soon after finished his piece, but decided he wanted more than one, so after getting down from the counter and placing his mouthwash bottle in his back pocket, he grabbed another slice of cake in each hand and began to groove and walk towards the hallway.

“Oooo yeah! Feel the music in yah, Swansea! Hahahaha!” Daisuke cheered, shimmying his hips back and forth. “Imma go see if Jimmy wants a slice!”

“Okay kiddo, you do that!” Swansea answered back, using his axe as a dancing cane. Opening the hallway door, he shuffled his way towards the medical ward, not exactly paying attention to where he was going. Humming his favorite musical tune, he opened the medical ward door and moonwalked his way in, not even realizing where he just entered.

Curly snapped out of his disassociation and looked over at Daisuke, confused as to what had been going on in the other room without him. His vision was a bit blurred due to the fact that he couldn’t blink, but deduced based upon the sickly sweet smell of cheap frosting he could detect, the crew had made another cake. Not surprising since the code for the sweetener would have only been so complicated to decipher when there were only four buttons on the packet machine, but there really wasn’t much else to use the sweetener for besides maybe in a coffee.

Unable to get up and calm Daisuke down, he could only watch as Daisuke cut the rug next to him in his drunken state, getting frosting bits all over the floor and his clothes. Curly was hoping Anya would’ve noticed that he was missing and come to rescue the both of them, but it was clear he was on his own. He tried instead to call out to Daisuke, but his throat was still quite irritated and only some grunting noises could come out. They weren’t loud enough for those in the lounge to hear either.

It was then that Daisuke suddenly lost his footing underneath him and he tripped towards Curly’s gurney, smacking his face against the fabric and then onto the floor. A piece of cake from one of the slices broke off and landed next to Curly’s right arm, staining the sheet with a bright neon pink dye. He flinched when Daisuke’s face hit his gurney, and he tried to lift his head up to check and see if he was okay. Unfortunately he couldn’t lift it high enough to see, so he had no idea how bad the damage was.

“Arrggghhh… my face…” Daisuke groaned, rolling over onto his back. “...That hurt…”

He abandoned a piece of cake onto the ground to rub his nose, effectively getting frosting all over his face. He sat up and shook his head, trying to shake the pain off, somehow thinking it might work. After a minute of struggle to get back onto his feet, he looked back at Curly and drunkenly giggled, wiping the nosebleed he had developed from the fall.

“Soooorry Curly, I didn’t see you there!” Daisuke sniffled a bit. “Go back to your nap, Imma find Jimmy for yoooouuu!~”

. . .

Curly’s eye widened and he gulped.

. . .

N-No…

N-Not Jimmy…

. . .

With another disoriented moonwalk, Daisuke groggily picked up his second cake slice and stepped out of the medical ward and headed down towards the utility, where he hoped to find Jimmy working on his plan to ‘fix’ everything. Curly’s breath quickened a bit as it was sinking in what Daisuke meant with that comment. Jimmy was in charge of feeding him today as Anya had done so the past couple of times, the two of them took turns doing so as he guessed Jimmy felt like he needed to feel superior to everyone around him, hence why he took half of the tasks needed to care for Curly.

He had already done a horrendous job this morning with the fact that he tried to feed him something that wasn’t even close to slippery enough to slide down his throat, causing him to choke quite severely. Because he struggled so much, Jimmy lost his patience and took his frustration out on him, grabbing him by the neck and slamming his head against the cot multiple times. He was still recovering from the ordeal, his breathing hoarse from the damage and the back of his head aching, he was going to struggle harder because of the abuse, which meant if Jimmy was going to feed him again, it was going to be another horrific round of pain and torture. A small tear began to slide down Curly’s face, flashbacks of each time Jimmy had abused him fading in and out, he thought back to how he had treated Anya and placed too much trust in his friend.

He felt like this was the world’s ironic punishment for him…

But suddenly he was brought out of his distress when he felt something unusual touch the side of his right arm. He slightly lifted his head high enough to look at what it was, the piece of cake from Daisuke.

. . .

…it was within reach.

Something to protect himself from having to face the entire feeding ordeal of Jimmy! If he could just manage to eat some of it, he might be able to get away with not being force-fed his entire meal tonight. Jimmy and Anya could tell when Curly was full and would stop when he gets to that point, so if he could alter the time it takes for him to get full, he could escape another round or abuse.

But this plan came without major risk…

This was a thick textured cake, similar to a poke cake that would’ve been left out on a kitchen counter for hours, practically borderline dry as a bone. With his inability to swallow thick foods safely, the cake would be extremely dangerous to eat alone without Anya or Jimmy to either save him by unclogging his throat. Considering the fact that Jimmy would most likely feed him something too thick anyway, Curly decided to take that risk, anything to avoid more abuse from Jimmy.

Using the tip of his right arm, he began to slowly maneuver the cake piece’s position to his right side, his eye straining from watching his actions. Every little move he made with his arm shot lightning bolts of pain down his spine and stabbing pain seared in the crease of his elbow. His eye started to water from staring so long. The frosting dragged along the cot, leaving a pink streak in its path. Once he managed to move the piece of cake all the way to his side, he let his head fall back down to rest his vision, taking a couple breaths once the sharp pains subsided.

He looked over at the door and listened to make sure no one was approaching…

So far so good.

After a minute of rest, he grit his teeth and began to move his arm again, sliding the piece slowly up his waist. The pain screamed at his mind to stop, it was completely unbearable, but he knew he couldn’t stop or risk losing progress on getting the cake closer to his mouth. His forearm shook violently as he shifted it up more and more, so tempted to stop and give up. He panted through his grit teeth and pushed some more, finally getting the piece up onto his chest. He released the pressure he was putting on his arm, letting it fall back down too fast to lie on the cot, another jolt of pain down his spine. He yelped and bit his tongue to try and muffle the noise. He whined softly, more tears streaming down his face, it was taking longer to recover from this attempt. He struggled to lift his head back up to check his progress, only about a foot and a half away from his mouth, it was a bit farther than he hoped.

. . .

Step, step, step, step…

. . .

…Oh no, it sounded like someone was nearby. He was running out of time.

Grrooowwrrlrll…

Fuck, this wasn’t good, if he didn’t manage to eat this piece of cake, Jimmy would be able to tell that he was absolutely starving, and he was going to be fed his whole meal. He had no more time to waste, it was now or never!

Fueled by the sudden rush of fear and desperation overpowering his mind, he pushed through the worst pain he’s ever felt and lifted his right arm back up to his chest, his forearm’s remaining exposed nerves on fire from the slightest movements. Fighting back against the fierce strength of every instinct to stop moving, his forearm shifted little by little, guiding the piece of cake ever so much closer to his face. His head shivering from the pain jackhammering his brain from every angle, he slowly lifted it back up once more, sticking his tongue out to barely touch his chest and being an angled platform to guide the piece into his mouth.

Inch by inch…

Ever so closer…

Just a bit more…

The frosting beginning to glide across his tongue now…

Almost there…

. . .

Anya stepped into the medical ward to see why Curly had been making so much noise. She immediately saw he was straining to insert a piece of Daisuke’s cake into his mouth, and she quickly panicked, running over to his bedside.

“Curly? Are you- wha- no no no no no Curly! Don’t eat that!” she nervously told him, quickly taking the piece out his mouth. “Y-You’re going to choke from that!... Jeez, It’s all over your gown too…”

. . .

It was over for him.

. . .

Curly stopped moving and stared at the piece of cake in her hand. His saving grace of tonight’s torture stolen right from his mouth.

All that he worked for, gone in a flash.

His teeth quivered in fear, reality setting in for him. A cracked whine escaped his throat as his emotions flooded him, he couldn’t hold back his pain from her anymore. He broke out in a full blown panic, his eye’s vision blurred from the immense amount of tears and his senses shutting down a bit. He was so afraid of what Jimmy would do to him next, he just wished this nightmare was just a nightmare, but his wish seemed impossible to come true now.

. . .

It was hopeless.

He was stuck.

. . .

Anya looked down to see Curly in the middle of his panic attack, she knelt down to his face level and rubbed the top of his head.

“Curly, hey Curly, shhhh shhhh, it’s okay. I’m here, please relax, you’re okay, I’m not leaving you…” Anya reassured him. “...I don’t understand… What were you trying to do?...”

It was no use, her comfort wasn’t working, he wasn’t showing signs of stopping his meltdown. She was confused, racing through various reasons in her head, trying to piece together what might’ve spooked Curly so much. What would he possibly have been trying to do with the piece of-

Grrruuumble…

Cake. Jimmy hadn’t fed Curly yet…

He was trying to feed himself, but why?...

. . .

“...Oh my god…” Anya whispered, and turned to face Curly. “...Curly… Has Jimmy been… hurting you too?...”

. . .

…Curly paused his crying before giving her a tiny nod.

. . .

Anya froze.

Jimmy…

He took away Anya’s innocence, but he wasn’t satisfied with just her, he wanted revenge. Revenge from Curly, and this is how he was carrying it out. She covered her mouth with one hand and the other dropped the piece of cake onto the floor.

“...I’m… I’m so sorry, Curly…” she nervously apologized to him, giving him a hug. “...You must’ve been so scared to feel like you needed to do such a thing like this…”

She stood up and wiped away his tears with his hospital gown.

“...I won’t let him near you again when I’m with you…” she promised Curly. “...Let’s get something safer in you, alright?...”

He nodded and tried to control his breathing, feeling a bit of relief that he managed to inform Anya of what had been happening to him behind closed doors. She headed through the hallway and into the lounge, where the rest of the cake lay on the counter in the kitchen. There weren’t many cans of rations left for the crew, probably about less than a month’s worth, but food cans with easy to swallow foods were running very low. She had considered opening up another can of the peaches and juice he seemed to enjoy the most, but after seeing the immense struggle Curly went through so much pain to try and eat the slice of cake, she figured it wouldn’t be fair to completely exclude him from something nice to eat while the opportunity was there. Feeding him a slice in its current state wouldn’t be ideal, so some prep work would have to be dealt with first.

She took a slice and one of the water packets that sat next to their food rations, opening and emptying it out into a large cup that was in the sink. Adding in bits of the cake and mixing it a little at a time, she managed to make a slushed cake concoction, one that would be easier for Curly to swallow without struggle. It definitely wasn’t in any way a ‘meal’, or barely ‘food’ for that matter, but Curly probably needed a bit of cheering up after his meltdown, so one night of dessert wouldn’t hurt. She hurried back to the medical ward, where she sat next to him and bent down to his eye level.

“I’m back, are you doing any better?...” Anya asked him. “...I’m sorry you had to go through Jimmy’s abuse too, I’ll make sure he never tries anything else while I’m with you… Now, would you like some cake?” Curly sniffled and looked at the cup she was holding, confused from what she meant by ‘cake’.

“See? I made it safe for you to eat.” She warmly smiled and showed him the cake smoothie. “It probably won’t be as sweet since I had to water it down, but you deserve to eat the same foods as everyone else here. Ready to eat?” His teeth formed what could probably be interpreted as a little smile, and he opened his mouth to receive the first spoonful. While the sweetness was definitely dialed back quite a bit, he couldn’t deny that the flavor of the frosting was one he missed, despite it coming from a shitty work cake. His eye looked up and fluttered a bit from the reaction his brain was feeling when tasting the sweetener, the dopamine flooding his mind with better emotions. He let the moisture of the mouthful coat his throat a bit before gulping it down, feeling so much relief when he felt the weight of the food reach his stomach.

One bite down.

Anya prepared another scoop and placed it upon Curly’s tongue cake side down, letting him take control of how quickly he wanted to taste and swallow each bite. Little bits of pink dyed crystallized sweetener clung to his teeth, staining them a bright neon pink, he licked them up with absolute pleasure, oh how he missed this guilty flavor. Two bites, three, four, five, each one enjoyed better than the last by Curly, the cake smoothie slowly filling his belly and fading the hunger into temporary obscurity. Anya eventually scooped up the last bits of the smoothie from the bottom of the cup and placed it in Curly’s mouth.

“Last bite, okay?” Anya told him. “Let me know if you’re still hungry when I’m done washing out the cup and I can make you another. Not like Daisuke and Swansea are going to eat more of it now that they’re so drunk…”

While she got up and washed the cup in the sink, Curly savored the last bite’s taste, sliding it to each side of his cheeks over and over in his mouth. Once he was satisfied with getting his sweet tasting fix, he finally gulped the last mouthful down, where it joined the rest of his meal in his belly. With how thick the cake smoothie was, it was quite filling, so he felt he would be okay with the amount she made for him, so he shook his head when she turned to him for a response to her question. Anya chuckled when she saw him experience a hiccup, it looked like it might’ve stung his chest a bit, but it was something she rarely saw him do, even before the crash. She sat back down next to him and gave his belly a pat.

“Heheh, you okay?” she asked him.

He nodded, probably a bit embarrassed from that.

“We should probably get you your painkiller before you settle down for the night, hmm?”

Once he answered back with a soft grunt, she turned her swivel chair around to face the table and slid herself over, grabbing one of the bottles from the desk. She opened it up and reached two of her fingers inside to grab a pill.

. . .

It was empty.

“Huh?...”

She opened another bottle up.

. . .

Also empty.

“Wh-What?...”

She frantically opened the rest of them.

. . .

Completely empty.

. . .

“O-Oh no…”

She slowly got up from her chair in silence, turning to look at Curly, who was now staring at her, worry looming in his eye. What could she even say to him, ‘Sorry, but we’re out of painkillers, guess you gotta suffer after I just said I would protect you from Jimmy’?... N-No, there had to be more, there had to be! She quickly stepped over to the counter by the wall and searched behind every book she had, underneath her medical equipment, inside the first-aid kit…

. . .

Nothing.

Anya nervously huffed and tried to hold her composure, but her mind was overwhelmed with panic. Jimmy was going to be fuming when she had to break the bad news to him, he was already on edge constantly whenever Curly was coming off of painkillers and squirmed in his cot while making noise. She scanned through her guesses of every other place that a stray pill could possibly be, under the beds? In the vents? Hidden away in a cabinet-

The storage locker?

The storage locker! Anya had completely forgotten about that thing, there were some emergency supplies in there that she had packed! It was covered in foam however, it would have to be cleared in order to access it. But that came with a risk, if too much foam was removed or a weak spot struck, the ship might crumble from the vacuum pressure of space and open up, killing them all in an instant. It would have to be carried out with the axe, it was the only tool they had that could break through the mess, currently Swansea was ‘in charge’ of the axe. In the state he was probably still in, it would be unwise to ask him to hand it over, but Curly was going to need something soon to hold him over before retiring later tonight. For now he wasn’t in excruciating pain, and could tolerate what he was dealing with at the moment, especially after his cake smoothie meal, so she took the moment to check on the storage locker and assess how deep into the foam it was. Stepping out into the hallway, she checked the corner where the locker was located and analyzed its position.

…It wasn’t that far in. Good.

Maybe if Swansea was sober enough, she could get the axe and break the locker door free. She entered the lounge and turned her attention to the lounge sunset screen.

Great, Swansea was still drunk and dancing, she would have to wait.

Walking over to the kitchen table, she sat down and tried to clear her head, which was now beginning to throb. She was suddenly so consumed by the fear of the unknown of what Jimmy was doing to Curly, she prayed that the same thing that happened to her, wasn’t happening to him when she was away. Looking over to her left side, she noticed an unopened bottle of mouthwash was next to their food can rations. Reaching over to grab it, she attempted to distract her concerned thoughts about Curly by reading the ingredients label on the back. As she had stated weeks ago, there was quite a lot of sugar in the mouthwash, and more than your typical amount of cheap alcohol mixed within its filler components. Probably a way for the company to sell as much as they can for dirt cheap materials.

Anya suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Anya.” Jimmy uttered to her.

She quickly jumped in her seat and covered her mouth.

‘Ahh! Oh, you startled me. “She stuttered.

“...Sorry.” Jimmy half-assed apologized.

“N-No worries!” she nervously reassured him.

. . .

“You thinkin about drinking that too?” Jimmy wondered.

Mouthwashing characters belong to Wrong Organ ^w^

#mouthwashing #captain curly #curly mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #fanfic #fandom #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fluffy #fluff

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mi---amor · 3 months ago

Text

Tipsy-Turvy

A//N: Chef Saltbaker x Self Insert OC

Although Amor's shown to speak/think in English for reading convenience, she's actually doing so in Spanish.

Saltbaker will also sometimes be referred to by the hc name I gave him. Not too much in this one because this is set within the early days of them working together.

°•°•°•°•°

Amor followed a peculiar sound. Rich singing occasionally interrupted by hiccups and giggling.

It was early. Too early for the dimly lit, sweetly-scented bakery to be occupied by anyone other than herself for the weekly anticipated order of produce. A 4:00 AM delivery, to be exact.

Amor had no complaints. It was part of the job, one she enjoyed no less and had plenty of prior experience for. Being a chef’s baking assistant, she was readily willing to get up at what most people considered to be the butt crack of dawn, cleaning, going over stock, and arranging the deliveries to be as presentable as possible for when her boss arrived.

Strangely, she didn’t recall being told he would be coming in earlier than usual today, if her ears did not deceive her. The only reason might be to help with unloading the truck, but that was hardly a challenge for either of them.

Poking through the kitchen door, Amor was met with several oddities right away. To start, the lights were not on. Instead, a procession of candles lined one of the countertops, illuminating a portion of the area in a surreal, seance-like way.

Beside a wall adorned with plates, utensils, and frames, a gramophone filled the scene with lively orchestral music and an operatic singer- two of them, technically. Dueting over the recorded voice was another that was much lower, much louder, and directly at Amor's feet.

“Sir?” she wondered as Chef Saltbaker merrily belted out the next chorus in unhinged, staccato Italian. He lay sprawled and surrounded by four hefty jugs most likely retrieved from the cellar, his uniform rumpled and undone. To complete his apparent desire to resemble a castaway sailor, his ascot was tied around his disheveled salt-and-pepper hair.

Underneath his coat was an undershirt that, during the events of whatever the hell transpired, had bunched up like a raised curtain. Inside his glass window of a stomach was a tinted, bubbling view of whatever he had sucked dry from the jugs, as well as the pounds of salt his mysterious innards were made out of.

Probably not the best combination.

Amor kept her gaze on her superior’s upside-down face shining in the abnormal ambience. She crouched nearer to his level to yell out a very confused, “Hello? Chef?”

Saltbaker’s half-lidded eyes rolled upward and lit with some semblance of recognition.

“Oh-ho-hoh! Cia-*hic* - ah, scusami. Ciao, bellissima!"

Well, that confirmed it. Chef Saltbaker was plastered out the wazoo, a sight Amor hadn't had the privilege of witnessing before.

Sure, she'd seen him sip daintily at a wine glass after a particularly busy day. She'd accepted a cup or two herself and could admit she looked forward to them and the friendly chats that ensued. The bottle would get finished by him most of the time, but evidently, it wasn't enough to affect him whatsoever.

Not like this. The level of drunk the chef had achieved in secret was astounding and not at all something he seemed capable of doing. Not outside of his own home anyway.

Had he even gone home?

Amor hurried over to the gramophone and stopped the record. Saltbaker held a warbling note until he gave a puzzled grunt. He groggily looked over, whining petulantly at his baking assistant.

“Why’d’y’do that?”

“Chef Saltbaker, sir, you’re uh. Very drunk.”

The chef dropped his head back with a clink. He waved the allegation away, looking as if he were being puppeteered by a sleepy toddler.

“Jus' a-*hic*- glass or five. Not too much, n' if it was,” he gave a boastful slap to his middle, “it’s nothing this ol’ tank can’t handle, ha ha!”

“Sir, it’s 4:00 in the morning,” Amor insisted. “Have you gone home and slept? At all?”

Saltbaker slurred the question in his language, mockingly falsetto, and made himself laugh, shaking up the party’s worth of booze inside him. “Ehhh. Who has time t'do that anymore?”

“Right, okay.” Trying to think of how to go about the situation, Amor set her fists on her hips and stared at a mounted clock in the shape of a frying pan. The deliveries were going to arrive any minute now. She could handle them herself just fine, but she needed space in the kitchen to sort and count the items out. Not to mention figure out how to get started on everything else single-staffed.

Frowning, she returned to the lump of a salt man. “I have a feeling you’re not going to be able to sleep all this off before 8:00.”

“Why yes, I can! See? S-S-Sleeping!” Accepting the challenge, Saltbaker rolled over, sloshing audibly like a whiskey keg. He had basically become one and was not fit to do anything else for the day- or however long it took saltshaker people to reach a hangover. That much Amor knew and resented to be her problem to deal with.

The chef she had begun to befriend and admire was supposed to be the opposite of whatever this was. She would have even gone as far as to say he wouldn’t ever put himself in such a predicament. Not when he had a business he seemed to care intensely for.

Did he have something else on his mind lately? Something…. troubling?

Amor went over to his side where his cheek was smushed against the tile floor. He was doing a terrible job pretending to be asleep, blinking out of sync and mumbling along to the musical number he had been robbed of in his head.

Frustrated as she was, Amor had to admit… it was hard not to find the situation a tiny bit amusing. Out of all the types of drunks to be, Saltbaker luckily landed on jolly dialed up to a hundred. If it was on any other occasion, Amor would have no doubt been laughing at how ridiculous he was being. But this was not the place, not the time, and certainly not the type of boss she could work with.

“Can you stand up?” she asked, although the answer was probably not going to shock her in the least.

“Yes, of course!” Saltbaker declared, flopping back into his previous starfish position.

Amor waited, but after a minute he remained where he was, seemingly pleased with the zero amount of progress he made.

“Sir?”

“Mmm?”

“Can you stand, please?”

“Oh. Ohhh! You mean now?”

“Yes,” Amor said through one very tired rush of air. “Please. Right now.”

At his assistant’s command, the chef lifted his arms like an awaking zombie, gave a smidgen of effort, and then dropped them.

“I think I- *hic* -like it down here. Heh heh, you should join me, gattina.”

Amor flushed pink at the pet name honeyed with flirtatiousness. No, she had to have misinterpreted that. Chef Saltbaker liked to tease and throw around nicknames for everyone… one difference being strictly in English. Maybe that quirk in his naturally charming tone had just been her imagination, which betrayed her yet again as she pictured herself cuddling in the big man’s arm and performing karaoke to Italian opera.

A certainly ideal evening outside of work hours.

Right now, he needed to move his ass out the goddamn way and maybe sober up at a table or broom closet. Seeing how he definitely couldn’t tell the difference between up and down and no one else was coming to punch in and lend a hand, Amor was the one stuck with having to deal with him- plus get everything else done for the day.

She was not getting paid enough for this.

“Sir, can you try to sit up one more time?” Amor asked. She nudged his shoulder with the tip of her shoe. “I’ll help you.”

Through a seesawing grin, Chef Saltbaker hummed at his assistant bathed in candlelight. “Amore mio, have I ever told you your ey- *hic* -excuse me, oh dear. Your eyes… they are sapphires shining bright…ly… no- yes- bright… they make th’morning… uh…” He trailed off and scrunched his brow. “Fiddlesticks. I had learned that jus’ for you. From a picture about cats. You like cats. I remember that abou- *hic* - you.”

Gosh, he was beyond ridiculous. And yet, Amor couldn’t keep a half smile from appearing on her lips. Never mind that her eyes were actually brown; he was right about the cat fact. It felt nice that he cared to remember that insignificant detail from one of their previous unwinding talks. She decided she’d let him have that one.

“Yes, I do. And I liked whatever that was too. Very sweet.”

“Aw, really?” The chef beamed and fumbled a translucent, surprisingly soft finger to boop her nose. “Well, good! I have man-n-ny more. I'll think of ‘em.”

“You can tell me all about it while you get up, okay?”

Chef Saltbaker watched with interest as his smaller assistant planted her feet firmly between his legs. She bent over with her hands out toward him, but he pulled his up to his chest like a scared puppy.

“Oh my… Miss Leches, that’s quite forward.”

As politely as she could, Amor told him to shut up and grab hold. Once she got a grip on him, she yanked with strength befitting someone more his size.

Jerking forward with a yelp, the chef stayed vertical for a full second. Before he could rush back to the floor’s embrace, Amor scurried and braced herself against his back.

She didn't know what lifting a waterbed strictly with her spinal cord felt like, but this had to be it.

“Unf-! Come on, Chef, work with me.”

“I do work with you, yes. And I- *hic*- enjoy your company very much! Too much, probably.”

Amor huffed and puffed and dug an elbow in, hoping the pain would at least register somewhere in his body and get him to move. With a sturdy little support digging into his shoulder blades, Saltbaker seemed to sense his limbs needed to create useful movement. He lurched over onto an elbow and took the long, sloshy journey to his feet.

“Whooo, so much spinning! I believe I'm going to regret this later.”

“Yep, probably. Good job not falling on me.”

“Not a problem. Thank you-u-u for being so…. ever so helpful.”

Amor more or less let him lean on her like an armrest before he dropped anchor against a blessedly nearby counter. Believing the worst to be over, she went to gather her hair out of her face- only to catch the chef chuckling as he started sinking to his knees like a melting ice cream.

“No, no, no! Up, stay up.” Amor righted him with another elbow jab to the squishy source of all her wasted energy and time.

“Oof-!” Saltbaker stuck out his bottom lip and, finally noticing he wasn't decently dressed, decided a little too late to cover up his exposed target. “That wasn't very nice,” he admonished, waggling a finger parentally at his assistant.

“Neither was any of this,” Amor grumbled, patience well spent. “What happened? Why didn't you go home?”

“I have… *hrp*- a much better question. Do you?”

“What.”

Thinking she hadn’t heard him in the otherwise completely silent room, Chef Saltbaker folded in on himself to close the several feet of distance that separated them height-wise. His nose nearly gouged Amor’s eye out, and by his breath alone she feared secondhand intoxication.

“Do you drink?” the chef clarified, bouncing a little on his toes for emphasis.

“Chef, I do. But like this?” Amor gestured at his everything. “No. And my advice is that you shouldn’t either. Would you like me to call you a cab or something?”

Saltbaker didn't really seem to understand, which was entirely expected. He had no idea where he was going with his initial question anyway as the world grew increasingly disorienting the longer he stood.

He rocked in place and rambled on. “I asked this, why? Because I dunno if you do. And 'f you do, you knew, who know… knew do. And I do. Knew. Mmmm-hm.”

Convinced he'd spoken gospel truth, Chef Saltbaker set a fist on his hip, his other going for the counter. He missed completely and his center of gravity gladly took over.

Amor nonchalantly sidestepped as her boss face-planted into the ground, rattling everything within a five-mile radius. He didn't move or say much else and she decided that was for the best. She continued with the morning duties after a brief checkup confirmed the chef was more than okay. He was snoring.

Amor shook her head and wished him well once he woke up.

He was going to have a massive headache, and she wasn’t going to make it any better by asking him for a raise.

#📝 mor write #🧂chef's kiss #chef saltbaker #self insert x canon #self shipping #self ship #self ship writing #tw alcohol #tw Silly European Man #self insert oc #if anyone gets the Disney references u get a cookie from Jeff Saltbaebae

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