#tender chicken leg pieces

[hardcollectionzombie]

Experience the delightful taste of our Chicken Adraki Seekh Kebab, made from tender chicken leg pieces and infused with a burst of ginger flavor. Perfect for grilling, frying, baking, or barbecuing, these kebabs offer a high-protein, low-fat option for any meal. Conveniently packaged to maintain freshness, they can be enjoyed in wraps, salads, or with your favorite dipping sauces. A versatile and flavorful addition to a balanced diet, our Chicken Adraki Seekh Kebabs are sure to elevate your culinary experience.

[minswriting]

18+ nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader

warnings: p in v, loss of virginity, fingering (f), etc.

imagine losing your virginity with early season spencer. the both of you have never really slept with anyone before and after a private conversation after a case, the two of you had decided to lose it together. just friends helping friends right? that was until spencer had arrived to your place with a bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly at your door, dressed in a fresh sweater vent, cardigan, and pair of slacks. and you? you were dressed in a simple summer dress.

you had prepared a meal, nothing too fancy. just a chicken and pasta dish that you thought would be good to have before anything and a glass of wine, to ease any tension. the two of you had a great time, just chatting, laughing with one another. the nerves you had felt previously had gone away as spencer told you random facts about random topics. it made you realize that your choice to lose your virginity with him was a good one.

“are-are you sure you still want to do this?” spencer asked after the two of you had made it to the bedroom, both of you sitting on your bed next to one another. “we don’t have to do it yet if we aren’t ready,” he added.

you looked at the brown haired boy, giving him a small smile. “i still want to,” you replied softly. “do you?”

spencer nodded his head, reflecting your smile on his face. “yes, i do,” he said. he brought a hand up to your check, moving a piece of hair that had fallen into your face and tucking it behind your ear. “can i uh- can i kiss you?” he asked.

“please,” you said.

spencer licked his lips before leaning in, hesitantly kissing your lips. the kiss was soft and tentative, something you hadn’t really felt before. you’ve had your first kiss of course but it never felt as…tender as this kiss. you kissed spencer back, putting a hand on the back of his head.

eventually it led to the two of you pawing at each other, the kiss getting hungrier and deeper. you both had taken your clothes off for the most part, except for your underwear. spencer wore a pair of plaid boxers while you wore a black bra and panties set.

spencer would lay you down gently, going on top of you shakily as he kisses your lips. his movements are tentative, shaky, a bit unsure. but you’re both more than eager. his hands roam your body while your arms are wrapped around his neck. his right hand gently grazes your bra, hesitating to massage the flesh underneath. so he pulls away from the kiss. “can i touch you?” he asked softly.

“yes,” you replied in the same tone.

spencer licked his lips, as he brought his hand underneath your bra, massaging the skin gently. you let out a soft moan as his fingers brushed against your nipple. he moved his hand to your back, shakily unclasping your bra and pulling it off of you. he threw the material to the other side of the room, taking in your breasts. “you-you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, looking at your tits and then at your face.

you gave him a smile. “thank you,” you said softly, allowing your hands to roam his torso.

spencer licked his lips. “you know, when your nipples are stimulated, they send sparks in the genital sensory cortex which is the same part of the brain as vaginal or clitoral stimulation,” he exclaimed, pressing kisses down your neck and onto your chest. he kissed your right boob before taking your nipple and putting it into his mouth. he sucked and licked on the nub.

you let out a soft moan, “oh,” you said, feeling your arousal pooling in your panties.

spencer used his other hand to trail down your body, his fingers making their way to the waistline of your panties. you let out a shaky breath, spreading your legs for your coworker. he slipped his fingers underneath the waistline, bringing them to your slit. he moved his middle finger down and up your cunt, spreading around the wetness before finding your clit and rubbing circles onto it.

you moaned again, this time your eyes fluttering shut as your pussy was finally being touched. with how knowledgeable spencer was, it wasn’t too surprising that he knew exactly what would pleasure you.

spencer continued to rub your clit in circles while sucking on your tits, making you feel as though your body was on fire. you could feel his bulge pressing into your thigh, signaling just how much this was turning him on. after a few minutes, spencer stopped rubbing your clit, his middle finger dipping down to your hole. you let out a shaky moan as he inserted his finger. “you’re so wet,” spencer murmured, looking at you as he thrusted his finger inside of you slowly.

you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut. the feeling was foreign but not bad. you’ve touched yourself a few times before but it had been different. your fingers were different from spencer’s. and his felt so good. “wet for you,” you whispered, licking your lips.

“yeah you are,” spencer smiled, adding another finger and curling it, hitting your g-spot.

you let out a louder moan, arching your back as he thrusted his fingers faster inside of you. “oh fuck!” you said. “f-for someone who’s never done this before, you-“ you moaned mid-sentence. “you know quite a bit.”

spencer let out a breathless chuckle, continuing his pace with his fingers. “i’ve studied a lot,” he replied, watching you.

you felt a heat building in your abdomen, signaling the beginnings of your release. you let out a whine of pleasure, your walls tightening around spencer’s fingers. “so close,” you said, bringing a hand to spencer’s shoulder to hold onto.

“yeah?” spencer said. “go ahead, cum for me, baby,” he replied as he worked his digits inside of you.

and so you came, thighs shaking, back arching, moaning. “spencer,” you moaned as you came. spencer fingered you through your orgasm and when you finished, you relaxed, breathing heavily. spencer removed his fingers from your cunt, looking at you with flushed cheeks. “you’re so beautiful,” he said, bringing his fingers to his mouth. he licked the digits, tasting your juices on his tongue. you watched him as he began to suck on his fingers. you bit your lip, watching him. even though you had just came, you felt yourself getting aroused again. “and you taste delightful,” spencer said as he stopped sucking on his fingers. he looked at you, licking his lips. “are you- are you sure you want to continue? i mean- you did just finish. i don’t want it to be too much for you,” he asked with consideration towards you.

“please,” you responded. “i want you, spence.”

and that was all spencer needed to smile and get up. “i- uh i came prepared of course,” he exclaimed, looking around the room for his pants. the bulge in his boxers was very prominent as you looked at him. you pulled your panties off, throwing them to the side as you waited for spencer. he grabbed his pants, pulling out a condom from the back pocket. he walked back over to the mattress, holding the packet in his hand. he swallowed thickly before slowly pulling down his boxers, revealing his hard length. he let out a hiss as the cool air hit his cock.

spencer’s cock was big to say the least. it was red and angry, begging to be touched. “you’re so big,” you whispered, almost amazed at the length. it wasn’t too girthy but it was perfect.

“you think so?” he asked a bit shyly.

you nodded your head, looking up at spencer with a smile. you looked back at his cock, licking your lips. spencer cleared his throat, ripping the condom package open and tossing the foil to the side. he began putting the latex on his cock, pulling it onto his length and ensuring it was on properly.

“are you ready?” he asked, looking down at you.

“yes,” you said clearly, looking up at spencer.

and then he was back on top of you. you spread your legs for him as he brought his cock to your pussy, teasing you by rubbing his tip against your clit, causing the both of you to let out small moans. “it’s going to hurt at first,” he murmured a bit shakily as he held himself up by one hand, his other guiding his cock.

“i’m a big girl, i can take it,” you replied softly, bringing a hand to spencer’s hair and moving a strand out of his face before resting it on his shoulder.

spencer leaned down to kiss you softly, slowly moving his lips against yours. he guided his cock to your hole, slowly and carefully easing himself inside. you inhaled sharply, feeling the stretch of having a cock inserted inside of you for the first time. “are you okay?” he whispered against your lips as he stopped for a moment.

you nodded your head, eyes closed in slight pain. “just keep going,” you whispered back, holding onto spencer.

and so he did. and when he finally bottomed out, he stayed still, allowing you time to adjust. he had read in several books that women tend to feel quite a bit of pain during their first time. so he wanted to ensure that you felt good before he began moving.

after a few minutes, the stinging began to ease up. and you could feel yourself relaxing. you swallowed, opening your eyes to see spencer’s beautiful brown orbs already looking down at you. “i think- i think you can move now,” you whispered to him.

“are you sure?” he asked, looking unsure.

“i’m sure.”

spencer nodded his head, leaning down once more to capture your lips with his as he moved his hips out and then back in very slowly. the both of you moaned. he began to get into a rhythm of moving slowly, relishing in the feeling of your tight and wet cunt around him.

“god, you feel so good around me,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as he thrusted his cock in and out of you.

you let out a shaky moan as the pain turned into pleasure quite quickly. he was filling you up so deeply, something you had never felt before. and god did it feel good. “is so deep,” you said, gently clawing at his back. “you-you can move faster.”

spencer swallowed before moving his hips faster inside of you, causing you both to whine. it felt so good. you finally understood what everyone had been talking about. sex truly was pleasurable. and sex with spencer just certainly felt…perfect. it didn’t matter what else was going on in the world because you had him. and this experience is so much more than just sex with a coworker.

“fuck,” spencer moaned, grinding his cock inside of you. “i don’t think i can last,” he said, embarrassed.

you moaned, nodding your head. “that’s okay,” you replied, kissing spencer’s lips. “just as long as it feels good, that’s all that matters,” you reassured.

spencer let out a whimper, burying his face in your neck as he thrusted his hips. he moaned into your skin, moving his hips more frantically. you felt your own orgasm approaching as his cock kept hitting that spongy spot inside of you repeatedly. and with a loud whine, spencer was cumming, moaning your name as he came. it didn’t take long at all for you to follow, arching your back as you moaned spencer’s name at him.

and when you both finished, spencer pulled out, moving to lay right next to you. the both of you were breathing heavily, taking a moment to process exactly what had just happened. after a few minutes, you looked over at spencer, who turned his head to look at you, and the both of you smiled and laughed. “i can’t believe that just happened,” you said, laughing.

“ahh me neither,” spencer replied, moving so that he could put his arm underneath your head. “i’m glad it did though.”

you smiled. “me too,” you replied. “we’re definitely going to do that again,” you said.

“oh most definitely,” he said as he brought his fingers to your chin, lifting it to meet your lips with his.

after that, sex with your coworker became a normal thing. and it was safe to say that feelings eventually became involved.

[keyaho]

.summary: nami's punishment continues. terry divulges himself. he also exposes himself. and indulges again.

short warnings: sensory play, oral, fingering banner: by me (i'm working on making some better than this one lmao. first attempt I know it ain't cute)

Part One || Part Two || Part Three

Nami thought she would get tired of her hands being bound away from her. She thought she would snap and tell him she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, she pulled on them as her arms ached, so much that the burn became familiar; like brushing her teeth. She wanted them even if she wanted to touch Terry more. In the guest room, Nami flexed her feet, one of them was bound at the ankle to the end of the bed. The other was pushed up, opening her legs. She stared up at the ceiling in wait, Terry somewhere in the house doing who knows what before he came and did god knows what to her body. 

“Your playtime has been cut in half, significantly,’ he says, still feeling miffed from her earlier attitude. 

Nami noted that Terry wasn’t going to just let things go. He held her to her choices while standing on his own. The fact that he was still going to indulge her was surprising. After the chicken tenders and fries, she figured he would keep distance between them. Instead, he spent ten minutes kissing her while her hands tugged on her pretty yellow leather cuffs. Personalized with ‘Pretty Gyal’ in black thread, the cuffs were becoming bracelets. A cute accessory to the debauchery Terry inflicted upon her. 

“But, I can indulge myself, yes?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good.” 

She couldn’t see him from her positon on the bed. Head in the pillows, the room was a comfortable temperature, the cuffs weren’t too tight and she was at ease. Moments later, Terry came to the side of the bed, placing a bowl on the table next to it. He picked up her phone and turned it off. 

“No distractions.” He had left his own to die in the kitchen. 

The guest bedroom door was shut, enclosing them in their own little world. He knelt next to the bed, his finger tips running along her side. 

“Tonight was supposed to end with my face buried in your pussy. I was supposed to be eating you like the last supper, watching you try not to cum. I was supposed to let you get one off, because I wanted to watch you break apart.” 

“I’m sorry, Sir,’ she says, ‘really sorry.” 

Terry’s face softened for a little, she noted the way the lines in his forehead disappeared before they snapped back and his eyes slanted away from her as he looked at her restraints. 

“So you’ve told me.” He paused. “However, your punishment doesn’t end after being spanked.” He kissed his teeth and shook his head. “I want the lesson learned to stick so you remember not to do it again. Understood?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He looked behind him at the bowl before continuing. “You circled sensory play and over stimulation.” 

“Yes, Sir,’ she replied, though her voice lifted at the end in question. 

“I’m going to add edging and if you are a good girl for me, I might let you cum.” 

The threat and reward lingered in the air between them. Her body tingled as he stood up with his fingers stroking her cheek, her bottom lip, and she parted her mouth. The bowl beside the bed disappeared as he placed it on the bed between her legs. 

“I want you to talk to me, okay?” Terry vocalized. “This is for you and you need to tell me what you like. Tell me what feels good.” He gestured to the room. “In here, I’ll do my best to give you what you need. Maybe even what you want.”  

Terry’s words hung between them as he stood up. 

He didn’t like to improvise but the chilling item in the bowl would have to do. Cold, his fingers dipped into the ice, the circular pieces came from a mold meant to make it easier to add to water bottles. The cylinder shape looked phallic and the sadistic tendencies Terry had began to surface. That would not be happening tonight. He wanted to be the first thing to fuck her. 

“Just feel,’ he instructed, ‘make the noises you want to.” He looked at her soft brown eyes. 

Nami hissed as the ice that landed on her belly and it sat chilling on her skin. It slowly started to melt, the cold water running down the her sides and hips. As it sat there, Terry took another piece in his hands and ran it down her inner thigh. She was warmer here and the ice snapped in half in his hands. 

“Hm..” 

His hands dipped into the bowl again and she hissed when a piece of the ice circled her nipple and another slipped between her legs. 

“Oh,’ she hummed, unsure which sensation she should focus on. 

The one on her chest was cold, but it was tolerable and her nipples hardened as he circled it around. The ice slipping between her lower lips was harsher, colder, and uncomfortable. 

“I…I don’t,’ she began, her eyes searching the ceiling as she tried to find the words. 

“What’s wrong?” Terry asks, stopping his movements and that gives Nami the clarity she needed. 

“I don’t think I like that as much,’ she admitted in a whisper. “Can I scratch that off the list?” She asked, the genuine question in her eyes made him smile. 

“Yeah, we can take that off, babygirl.” 

The initial touch of the ice was blissful, but the biting chill of it after wasn’t something she’d derive any pleasure from. Not even from the ice that he was pressing flush to her pussy, though the cold she liked. 

“Tell me why you don’t like it.” 

Nami licked her suddenly dry lips. 

“What part of me playing with your pussy with ice turned you off.” 

“The…the, um,’ she fumbled, his expression was one of pure elation as if he was enjoying talking to her this way. This wasn’t a Dom in front of her. Her free leg suddenly drew upwards as realization set in. He was too readable this way and she didn’t know if to feel happy or aroused. 

“At first it feels good. But then it’s too cold and it hurts. It stings and numbs.” 

“We can try it another way.”

He couldn’t push it off any longer. The ice had long since melted and his fingers were coated in her thick and sticky essence as he worked it from her body. He could feel her body shaking to stay still. Her hips stuttered and she gave into the pleasure, eyes drifting closed as she moaned. 

“You like that,’ he teased, applying a little more pressure. 

“Yes,” 

“Shh, my pussy is talking,’ he grabbed another piece of ice and chilled his hands before adding them to her body. 

He alternated between eating ice and rubbing it across her skin. The more he played with her pussy the hotter she began to feel and the ice became pleasurable. 

“That’s it, pretty baby.” He cooed. “You want to cum for me don’t you.” 

Nami was speechless, the multiple sensations her body was experiencing made her toes curl. A knot sat deep in her stomach, tight, and getting tighter. She fought against it but she knew moving would make it worse. Nami took deep breaths, loudly blowing them out as she tried to count herself down from a ten to a two. Her head cleared a little and she thought of something else, the shake in her limbs relaxing after a few minutes. Terry had pulled his hand away and watched as she fought the urge to cum. Her chest rose and fell slowly and she counted to herself. 

“Good girl,’ Terry was amused, ‘yu really waah cum fi mi nuh you?’ he laughed. “Tell mi how it feel.” 

Nami watched his eyes light up as he smiled. All fucking thirty-two teeth were bared and the shift in his speech sent the flood straight from her pussy to the bedsheets. She blinked in wonder as he kissed her wrists. Terry then leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, cheek, nose, and then her lips. His fingers began to poke around her hole, flirting with her wet folds as his tongue licked into her mouth. The squelching sounds had been minor before. She could hear them now and feel the way her slick stuck to his fingers. 

“Talk to me, Nami,’ he whispered.

“It feels good.” 

“I know that,’ he replied. “Talk to me.”

“You have me so wet,’ she admitted, his fingers stroking continuously in the same pattern, driving her thoughts wild with the repetition. 

Her breath fanned against his face as she breathed, trying to control herself as his thumb began to strum her clit like a guitar. His fingers moved downward and she bucked her hips unexpectedly when his middle and ring finger pushed into her cunt and stroked in a ‘come hither’ motion. His thumb made light circles on her swollen clit. He scissored his fingers, stretching her left and right. 

Terry kissed down her jaw and sucked on the skin of her neck. The words left her lips faster than she could form them in her head. 

“Does it feel good, baby,” Terry asked. 

 “Yes, Daddy…” 

“Who's making you feel good,’ he hissed. His stroke became faster. 

“You, Daddy-please,’ Nami pleaded. His hand was doing demonic craft through his fingers. He was the spawn of a pleasure demon and she could feel her offering leaking from between her legs. 

Nami felt her body arching into his fingers, seeking out more from him, and he pulled them away. The relief that washed over her as her body fell to the bed was magical. Clarity set in and she threw her leg over to close herself off, trying to rub away the intense feelings pulsating through her slit. 

Terry reached over to the nightstand and turned on her phone. He slid it unlock and set a timer. He dropped the phone onto her stomach as he kissed down her body, his tongue drawing her left nipple into his mouth. He grinned as she pushed her chest upwards towards him, the touch caught her off guard. His tongue lapped there for a few seconds then left a trail towards her sex. Before that he tapped the outside of her leg to get her attention. 

“Yes, Sir,’ she slurred, the sexual haze settling over her as she tried to keep her thoughts clear. She was overwhelmed and her body felt hot. 

“You have two minutes left,’ he pressed a light kiss to her sex. The tip of his tongue flicked against her swollen clit and she whimpered. “You can hold it that long and Daddy will let you cum.” 

“Please, I’ll be good!” She didn’t want to wait two minutes. 

Amused, Terry looked up from his wet fixation. “You’ll be good huh?” 

Nami whined. “I’ll be so good for you.” 

He kissed her pussy again with a bit more firm pressure. Namis legs shaked. 

”Two minutes.” 

He started the timer and pushed her legs apart. Terry pressed his hand into the back of her knee and held it open as his tongue licked between her wet slit. She tried to count, but lost track when he licked from her weeping hole to her sensitive throbbing clit. Terry felt her trying to drag her body away from him. He let her, watching her twist away from him as he licked his lips. He followed her, pushing her legs back open. He finds the phone and drops it beside her head, his eyes threatening her to keep still. 

“Be still.” 

He grabbed her hips and lowered his mouth back to her pussy, slurping his tongue through it. His mouth was cold. The ice shocked her body with a sudden chill. Terry’s tongue quickly licked the chill away, warming her up and making her slicker. The sounds of him eating her out were loud and wet. He sucked her clit into his mouth roughly as his fingers rejoined in stroking her hole. 

Nami was on the verge of tears, the knot in her belly was hard to keep away, and she couldn’t see the time to know what was left and she was sure she wasn’t going to make it. 

“Hold out for me,’ Terry says. 

His fingers were playing a symphony on her g-spot, how could she? 

“Yuh naa go rush Daddy yuh?” 

He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as she caught a glimpse of his face. His mouth and chin were soaked. The sight of him covered in her mess was too much. The deep baritone of his patois was just as mind numbing as the fingers that had been slipping in and out of her pussy. Nami’s legs drifted shut, her toes curling. 

The alarm on the phone blared and she let go, whimpering as her orgasm soared through her. She didn’t even need him to touch her, just the sight of him between her legs tasting her and the feeling of his thick tongue pushed her over. The alarm was just the trigger. Terry watched her body shake, her hole leaked, creating a large wet spot on the sheets. He thumbed her over the sensitive clit and watched how that same leaking hole clenched around nothing. How her sweet little pink cunt needed to be filled as it welcomed his fingers again. He stroked her a few times, watching her face wince in overstimulation. As Terry watched her sum, he kept eating the ice. 

When his cold tongue flattened against her pussy a second time, Nami tugged so hard on her restraint the latched holding them to the bed snapped. Her wrists were still bound as they came swinging forward from the sudden momentum. Terry heard the snap and looked up and his hand came out to grab her wrists before her hands could grab him. He had disclosed jujitsu as one of his hobbies but she was still surprised at his reflexes. Maybe it was the marine in him too. Either way he pinned them over head, but didn’t hold them. He looked at her in warning and she silently understood. 

“Yes. Sir.” 

He brought her body to the edge of the bed after unbinding them completely. He knelt between her legs as he watched her hands to make sure they were above her head. She had them face downwards and gripping the sheets. Once he parted her legs his mouth latched on to her clit. He assaulted it with his tongue, licked, sucked into his mouth, and devoted so much attention to it she was begging him to let up and slow down. 

His tongue licked lower, his resolve gone as he licked his way into her hole, sucking the slick she hadn’t stopped leaking. It was all unbeatable this time and he gave into temptation. He pulled her legs over his shoulders so he could hold her still. Nami rocked her hips against his mouth, his wet and deadly mouth. 

“I knew this pussy was going to taste good,’ he breathed out, a light chuckle in his chest.

His eyes were blue, Nami’s mouth dropped open as Terry’s tongue flicked against her like a snake's tail.  

With her legs pressed towards her chest, Terry’s tongue played around in her pussy. He was such a noisy eater, slurping and sucking until she was trying to wiggle away from him. His hips began to rock and he flattened his tongue against her pussy letting her ride his face. Her chest rose and fell as she sucked in air. She needed some relief and it was starting to expand in her lower belly. A fire so hot the ice on his tongue did little to soothe. 

She felt like crying. The sensation of being licked and forcing herself not to cum was making her head split. She felt like she was being pulled in two different directions. Nami looked down at him again. His eyes, fuck, those eyes. 

Were they? 

Green? Now? 

Chameleon ass…..

Fucking green eyed bast-

The shrill of the alarm scared Nami right into her orgasm. Her back arched off the bed and her toes curled from their position in the air. She sucked in a deep breath, feeling her pussy quiver as she wished to turn on her side and rub her thighs together, the friction needed. 

When did he set another one?

Terry tore himself away from her cunt. Standing abruptly he wiped a hand over his mouth and chin, but his skin still shone with the aftermath of her orgasm. 

Nami tried to sit up. Her body slumped back to the bed as she joined him in trying to catch their breath. Her voice was soft, sleepy sounding, but he heard it: 

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Terry looked down at himself. He had worn briefs beneath his sweats, hoping to contain himself a bit better and resist the urge to jerk off as he tasted her. Nami wasn’t like previous submissives. Her naivety turned him on. Her wonder and interest renewed his lust for the community. He looked down at her, his heavy breathing silent as she laid there, legs spread, for his next instruction. She was waiting to know what he wanted her to do. He bit down on his lip, slightly upset he lost control just now. He shouldn’t have indulged in her the way he had. Not when punishment was the precursor. He should have edged her and then let her be. Yet, Terry had given in. He had let her cum. He had went against his own R.E.L.Ls to indulge when he had been waiting for the right moment. A tinge of anger settled into his bones and he looked away from her inviting body and slipped into the bathroom. 

He had exposed a part of himself that he shouldn’t have and she caught it. Caught him. He couldn’t fault her for what she did not know was happening. As he busied himself with running her a bath, Terry opened the bathroom’s closet and pulled out a towel and placed it on the sink counter. 

“Sir,’ came her soft voice. 

She stood in the door, her hands bound in front of her, curly hair messy, and his shirt was wrinkled and damp. Nami was a mess of his doing and he bit back the urge to smile. Shit. He needed to reel himself in. The scene was over and he could feel the drop in energy. 

“Yes?” He replied after swallowing. 

“I was trying not to cum.” She whispered. She raised her hands and rubbed them over her flushed face. Her mascara had run, making dark streaks over her cheeks. “I really was trying.” 

Terry’s eyes softened as he walked over to her. “I know.” He cupped her face and brought his head down to kiss her. “You made it to the end of the two minutes.” He pulled away and kissed her forehead. “Twice.” 

“Am I still in trouble,’ she asked as she pursed her lips. 

“Nah, you’re not in trouble.” 

He let her go and she watched him prep her bath. He never stayed in the bathroom with her, so when he beckoned her in she didn’t hesitate. 

“Grab the counter.” 

She put her back to him and placed her hands on the counter. He stood behind her and she watched him in the large mirror. Shirtless, his chest pressed against her back and he unnecessarily leaned into her to remove the cuffs. His hands wrapped around her wrists as his fingers unlatched the leather. He kissed her neck, pulled down the shirt and pressed his lips to her shoulder all the while keeping eye contact with her in the mirror. She tried to look away but his eyes were hypnotic, drawing her in and keeping her hostage. 

With the cuffs gone, Nami lifted her arms to rub her wrists. Beside her, Terry opened a drawer and pulled out a blue tin of salve. His hands then grabbed the back of the shirt and lifted upwards before tossing it into a hamper near the closet. Terry turned around and turned off the water, testing the temperature. She stayed still, watching him over her shoulder. The muscles in his back flexed as he stood up right. 

“When you’re done, wrap in that towel and come see me in the living room.” 

Spread over his lap, Nami’s eyes rolled upwards as he rubbed the thick salve into her ass and inner thighs. His thumbs pressed into her skin and she went limp, enjoying the care. She was in another one of his shirts, not caring it was hanging off her head as she let her arms dangle. His hand smoothed up her back, her shoulders slumping more into his thighs. 

Choking. Spanking. Grabbing. Massaging. 

Those hands could do whatever they wanted to. 

“Do you need a nap?” He asked. 

They had done a lot over the past few days and he wondered if he was moving too fast. She was just so willing. 

“Not yet,’ she replied. If she did she wanted to take on with him. 

“I want to talk about one of the kinks you have.” He says. 

He pulls down her shirt and helps her sit up. She tucks her hands into her lap as she sits cross legged next to him on the couch. He closed the salve tin and dropped it on the infamous table. 

“Yes, S-’

“Speak freely.” He says. “This one is serious.” 

He had studied that paper like it was his orders for work. 

“Do you understand the depth of control I have to have to allow you to participate in consensual non consent, even with me?” 

Nami bit down on her bottom lip. It was one of the first kinks she circled and though she knew the extent of what it could be, Terry’s question had her second guessing. 

“No.” She whispered. “Do you not want to do it? We can take it off.” 

Terry’s hand came down on her knee, stopping her fidgeting. He leaned back and shook his head. 

“That’s not why I am asking.” He looked at her and then to where his hand was on her thigh. “You are giving me consent before it ever happens. That’s different than in the moment. Yeah, you can safeword, but there is no other way to do the kink unless you go all the way. No safewording.” He could see the concern on her face. “I wouldn’t do anything you hadn’t agreed to prior, but we can’t plan this kink. It comes when I want it to.” 

Nami had mentioned she wanted to give up control, as much as she could, because she liked being used in that way. For lack of better words if he wanted, Terry could use her as a toy. She derived so much pleasure from sexual intimacy. The kinks heightened the feelings, but being that close to a man was the main turn on. To be desired in that way. 

“If I see you aren’t enjoying it then I will stop it. And we can try at a later time.” Terry continued. “I’m going to come to you when you don’t want it. When you’re tired or when you’re busy. Your safe word is the only trigger and if you use it, I will never do this kink again.” He paused. “If I have control then I have it. It’s not shared. It’s not traded back and forth. It’s mine the same way your body will be in that moment. At my discretion and for how long I desire to use it.” 

She twisted the shirt in her hands while she looked down at the material. 

“But it wouldn’t happen until after I fuck you so you have nothing to worry about for now. I just wanted you to know the severity of that particular kink.” 

“How do we warm up to that?” 

Terry laughed, not at her, but he understood the joke. “We don’t, however, exploring your kinks helps me create the scene for you. I’ll do what you like after I do what I want.” 

Nami nodded, unsure of what to say. She needed to think about it. 

“Can I ask you something,’ she inquired. 

“Of course,’ he replied, his hand sliding up her thigh and beneath the shirt. “Anything you want.” 

“You….earlier, there was a difference,’ she fumbled over her words, trying to string them together so they made sense. “I called you Daddy but you didn’t correct me. Or punish me for it.” 

“In the heat of things I can forget to pace myself and I slip into a different head space.” 

“Was it my fault?” She asked. 

Terry’s eyes shot up to hers and he leaned forward, almost in her lap. She kept her hands tightly fisted in the shirt. 

“No, you did everything right.” He sighed. 

Nami waited for him to speak again, though she let out a sigh of content when he kissed her. His tongue swept over her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, letting him taste her as if he hadn’t. Her hands twitched and she huffed. So badly she wanted to hold his face, his shoulders, scratch up his back, marvel at the way his toned stomach rippled beneath her fingers and feel the heaviness of his dick in her hands. 

She was snatched from her thoughts as his hand pushed between her legs, the heat inviting his fingers back into her cove, just as wet as it had been before. 

“What are you thinking about that made you so wet, Nami?” He teased, pushing her to lie back on the couch. 

He unfolded her legs, pushed her arms up and settled between her thighs. 

“I really want to touch you.” She says, eyes glossy as he played with her pussy. Their talk became more sensual as he pushed them into her cunt, stroking a fire that was warming her belly. 

“I know.” He kissed her neck, tugging the skin between his teeth as she arched into his fingers. “I can’t keep my hands off you.” He admitted. “You taste so fucking good, baby.” 

He crawled to the floor, kneeling beside her before pulling her legs to either side of his head. He brought her body down, resting her thighs on his shoulders as he held her still. He kissed her clit, looking up at her as she held onto the back of the couch. 

“Mi nuh need yuh touchin mi rite now.” 

Terry whispered patois to her pussy, his lips licking up her slick as she dug her nails into the back of the couch. There it was again, Nami thought, something gentle about how he spoke to her, the patois rolling across her ears as she moaned. She tried to keep still, to watch him devour her, but her body betrayed her and she rocked her hips back and forth against his mouth again. 

She was still sensitive from earlier and the need to push his head away while pulling him closer at the same time was high. His tongue was flat as it pressed against her cunt and she could almost feel his damn tastebuds flaring up as they became soaked in her mess. 

“Sweet little pussy,’ he hummed. “Mi a guh fuck yuh senseless.” 

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[luvsfics]

DAYS LIKE THIS — stranger things

PAIRINGS: eddie munson x gf!reader

SUMMARY: after a long day of cuddling and sex, you decide to treat your man with dinner and even more attention.

WARNINGS: afab reader. mentions of sex. eddie not wanting to eat his vegetables.

WORD COUNT: 0.5k

The smell of baked chicken and fresh roasted green beans filled the trailer. You stirred the potatoes that were boiling in a pot of water as the sounds of your boyfriend, Eddie, strumming his guitar in his room filled your ears.

You were dressed in a long sleeve shirt of Eddie’s and a pair of thigh highs to keep your legs warm. The subtle sore feeling of your cunt made you think about earlier that morning when you and Eddie went round after round in his bed after Wayne left for work.

The oven timer rang, alerting you out of your thoughts to pull out the chicken from the oven. You grabbed a worn out oven mit from the drawer and grabbed the pan of chicken and placed it on the counter to rest, then you pulled out the steaming hot green beans, which were covered in garlic salt and pepper.

The potatoes were fork tender, you drained the water and doctored them up with milk and butter with some salt and pepper. You took your potato masher and mixed all the ingredients together to make some mashed potatoes.

After everything cooled, you plated up the food for the three of you. You covered Wayne’s plate with foil and stuck it in the microwave for him to have when he got home.

“Eddie!” You shouted down the hall as you brought him his plate.

“Yeah baby?” He called back. You opened his door to see him strumming his guitar shirtless with a pair of sweats on, his tattoo on display for you to see.

You smiled at your handsome boyfriend as you sat on his bed next to him.

“I made you dinner,”

“aw, baby…thank you…I’m starving!” He laughed.

You scooped up some potatoes on the fork and held it up to his mouth for him to eat. He willing ate them off the fork and groaned at the taste of the creamy mash.

“Fuck baby, you make the best mashed potatoes..” you giggled at his compliment.

He laid his guitar on his torso and opened his mouth for another bite of food. You playfully rolled your eyes and cut up the seasoned chicken breast and fed him a piece.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said with a smile as he chewed his food. You pressed a soft kiss to him lips, not caring if he was still chewing.

You picked up a few green beans with the fork and held it up to him again. He grimaced at the sight of the vegetable, “yeah, no.”

“Eat your damn vegetables, Munson.” You shoved the green beans into his mouth, he unwillingly ate the vegetable with a pained expression.

“The things I do for you..” he swallowed.

“I rocked your world this morning so you should do this for me.”

“I rocked your world, honey.” He sassed.

You rolled your eyes and shoved some mashed potatoes into his annoying mouth. He laughed as he swallowed them.

“I love you, baby girl.” His words brought a smile back to your face.

“I love you too, picky boy.” You placed a hand on his cheek and a soft kiss on his lips. Nothing felt better than this.

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 3

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature, some angst

A/N: This chapter made me doubt everything, so thank you to @mourningbirds1 and @the-ginger-hedge-witch — you know all you’ve done for me with this one, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. ❤️

—

Flecks of dirt mingling with his sweat, beads of salt tickle Joel’s scalp, and he takes a break for a moment, pushing the shovel into the loose soil. Raking his fingers through his hair with a scratch, he grabs the hem of his cotton thermal to wipe his face and brings it up, swiping away the evidence of his hard labor.

When you walk out of the cabin with the next batch of plants in your hands, he sees your eyes slide over him and the subtle halt in your step makes him drop the shirt back down. 

Head down, using his foot to force the shovel into the ground, he speaks. 

“That it?”

“Yea.” Kneeling in front of him, you carefully work the delicate seedling from the pot you started it in into the cup of your hand while he watches. Studying the trench he’s dug for a moment, the crumbling dirt and tender root structure is cradled in your palm.  

“Here?” you ask, looking up. 

The tilt of your chin upwards has him momentarily speechless, your eyes earnest and trusting and the position you’re in has him beginning to harden. 

 Jesus, you’re beautiful. 

In a wholesome, sweet way: a way he knows is just for him, because while he’s used to seeing you closed off and hard for others, he’s never seen this much openness on your face. The idea of it being for him alone makes him thicken enough that he clears his throat, angling his body away as he answers you. 

“Yea. That should be good.”

Your tongue slides along your lower lip in concentration as you bend forward to carve out a spot for the plant; first one, then another and then the last one placed in the soil with a firm press of your fingers around the base.  

“Done,” you state, giving it one more pat for good measure. “ Just gotta put up the fencing for the rabbits, and we should be good.”

He’s assembled it already, pieced together a makeshift barrier with some stakes and chicken wire he found in a shed next to the cabin, and it’s clear as he bends to drive the sharpened wood into the ground that he knows what he is doing. Clear too, in the construction of it all, that this is something he knows. His moves are efficient, the two of you working in companionable silence until he’s satisfied it’s secure. 

He stands up straight with a low groan, his fingers digging into the base of his spine through his shirt, his flannel stripped off long ago and tossed into the grass. 

“I’m gonna go wash off,” he says, pointing at the creek with a jerk of his head, and you dust the moist soil from your hands, wiping them on your pants. Standing, you carefully step out of the garden, and he’s got his hand out to help you, your own smaller one placed in it for a moment. 

“Sounds good.” Gathering the pots, you head back inside, and when you turn back at the last moment with a casual “call me if you need me,” he almost laughs.

Almost, the sound dying in his throat as his jaw flexes instead.

-

Submerging himself in the creek, the water isn’t nearly warm enough for his liking but it’s refreshing all the same. 

It strips away the dirt and the sweat, sliding over his bare skin as he forces himself under the gentle current and he floats there for a moment, relishing the pressurized muffle of silence around him. 

His hand reaches down between his legs, tempted to give himself relief with the picture of your upturned face still in his mind, but he doesn’t. Instead he holds it there, tightening his fist around himself with a firm squeeze in order to will the bright, strongly centered need away. Popping up with a splash, he focuses instead on scrubbing his body with the bar of soap he brought down. 

Using it to wash everything including his hair, he climbs out of the creek and towels off, slipping his jeans and a fresh t-shirt back on. The cotton clings to his damp skin, darkening along his spine, and he sits down on the bank, deciding against putting his socks and boots back on. His gun lying beside him in the grass, he rests his forearms on his knees and digs his toes into the cool ground under his feet. Grass slips against his skin, tearing up in chunks and listening to the birds chirp around him, he lets his head fall back and closes his eyes. 

The sun shining bright on his face, the beams heat his chilled skin and he can’t remember the last time he’s done anything like this. Can’t remember the last time he’s done anything like what he’s been doing these last few weeks. 

Abandoned when you first found it, the cabin now reeks of domestication and he finds himself simultaneously pulling against it, while unconsciously settling in. The tension that’s filled his muscles for the last ten years as a means of survival: though beginning to loosen in moments like these, it still wraps around his lungs sometimes. Still creeps up on him in the night by appearing in his dreams or grips him out of nowhere when he gets up in the middle of the night just to check that you’re okay. 

Everytime he does it is a reminder of the last time he woke in the night to check on someone: a small bundle swaddled in a pink blanket; a sprawled form draped half off her first big girl bed; a tucked ball of preteen. 

His fingers seek out his watch, absentmindedly circling the face and he stays there, sitting in the sun. 

-

Hiding in your bedroom and staring at a book with pages you aren’t absorbing, you try not to think about him in the water. You had been in the kitchen, wandering aimlessly into the living room and ended up forcing yourself into your bedroom so you wouldn’t be tempted to peek out the window. 

The words blur and shift in front of your eyes, a daydream taking root instead and eventually deciding you’d given him ample time for privacy, you grab your own towel and walk out to the deck. 

Heading down to the water, you keep your eyes on him. 

His back faces you, the thin material of his shirt stretched taut across his shoulders outlining every muscle in his back, every strong dip and plane. You see a sliver of his skin, a solid, firm slice peeking just below the hem and you come to stand next to him, dropping your towel down on the grass.

He greets you, keeping his eyes shut. 

“Nice out,” he says lowly. “Warm.”

In the bright light of the afternoon, you can see clearly the handsomeness of his features and with his eyes closed, you feel braver in your study. His eyes lined, his skin tanned with age, a permanent frown itched between his brows. Gray threads throughout his beard, gathering at the corners of his jaw and peppering lightly through his mustache and along his temples, and without his expression set into his usual sternness, he looks younger. 

His mouth is plush and relaxed, his curls a drying halo around his head as they flutter gently in the breeze. You imagine kneeling down to silently straddle his lap, thinking about what his eyes would look like when they opened to find you there. Dark, the brown bleeding into the black, just like they looked like this afternoon as you were gardening. 

Wandering down to the edge of the creek, you carefully dip your toe in and with your thin thermal pants rolled up to your knees and your top covered with a tank top, you wade into the creek. When it gets to your thighs, you let out a hiss and looking back at him with an expression of shocked disbelief, you find him watching you. 

“You took a bath in this? It’s freezing.”

“I never said the water was warm,” he replies, the quirk of a smile under his mustache. 

“A little heads up woulda been nice,” you murmur begrudgingly and he says nothing, shrugging instead, amused.

Knowing that a slow wade in is more pa inful than just taking a leap, you give in and dive forward, staying under the water for a moment until you come up with a shout. 

“Jesus Christ!” you cry out, wiping the water from your face and he laughs, a sound that makes you automatically smile because it’s the first time you’ve heard it. 

You force yourself to stay in, the water lapping around your shoulders, and pretty soon the sharp cold mellows into something you can stand. Letting your body float in the gentle current, you bring your feet off the bottom and swim closer to the bank.

“Wanna come back in and join me?” you ask, bobbing in the water. 

“After that?” He shakes his head. “No thanks. I already punished myself enough for today.”

You shrug, letting yourself fall back and you float on top of the water for a moment, looking up at the sky. You can feel his eyes on you; the image of them so dark still in your mind. A bird flies overhead, your eyes tracking it until it’s out of sight and standing, you face him to walk slowly through the water. 

“Feels good,” you make conversation, your head down as you drag your toes through the soft sand. You watch it kick up and swirl around your legs, goosebumps pebbling your shoulders with the water line around your waist. Your comment met with silence, you look up and he’s giving you a hard stare, his eyes dazed.

“You doin’ okay over there?” you call out to him, shifting backwards in the water to submerge yourself again. “You look –”

And then you’re gone, slipping under the surface. 

Forcing yourself to stay under, you hear the muffled, stern clip of his voice from the bank, again when he yells your name louder and then a loud splash when he jumps in. Diving under, his arms extend out and find you immediately in the dark water, his grip tight and unyielding as he drags you to the surface. Coming up with a sputter, you’re laughing, wiping the water from your face and opening your eyes, the laugh quietly dies when you see how concerned he looks.  

“Gotcha,” you whisper. 

There is a beat where he doesn’t say anything, the frown that disappeared earlier back and deeper than ever as he looks down at you, and you are about to apologize when his eyes flash with a mischievousness you’ve never seen on his face before.

“You little shit,” he breathes out. 

The tension in his body suddenly leaving, you shriek when he lifts his legs beneath him and lets you both drop down into the water, your limbs reflexively winding around him. You push off the bottom and he joins you, a deep breath in before he’s guiding you backwards under the surface again and you force him down with you, wrestling to keep him there. His hand shifts from the middle of your back down to the curve of your ass, pressing you against him and your arms wrap tight around his neck, holding on. 

Popping back up, you’re both breathing heavily with matching grins, and you expect him to let go…but he doesn’t. Instead, his hands stay right where they are and you squeeze your thighs around his waist, his body solid and flush against yours. You feel the soft give of his stomach against your core and it takes everything you have not to squirm against it. 

“Feels good, right?” you ask him, reaching up to wipe away a drop of water sliding down towards his eye, and he keeps his gaze on you, nodding. 

“Yea, it’s not too bad when you get used to it.”

Wanting nothing more than to lean in and press your mouth to his, you resist, not wanting to give him a reason to pull away. 

“When’s the last time you went swimming like this?” you ask instead. 

He thinks for a moment, his eyebrow raising. “I don’t even know. I’ve gone to wash myself, but I haven’t done this since –” he stops, his face shifting into something more solemn that he pulls himself out of  just as fast. “It’s been a while. What about you?”

You’re sitting on his thighs in the water, your bodies gently turning in a circle as you stay submerged to your shoulders and you shrug. 

“I can’t even remember. Maybe when I was little, or something?” You’re quiet for a moment while he studies your face; your bodies dancing in the current. “I’ve missed it. Doing something just for…the fun of it.” 

Your fingers brush against the wet cotton of his shirt, one of them tentatively slipping under the neckline to touch his firm skin and giving him time to stop you, you bring your eyes to his. “What do you miss?”

He doesn’t answer right away, but you don’t expect him to. His fingers flex involuntarily underneath you, splaying wide over the plush curve of your ass and you think his face betrays what he misses, especially when his eyes drop to your mouth - which makes his answer all the more surprising when he says it. 

“Barbeque,” he replies seriously. “Really good barbeque.”

The answer makes you laugh for a moment, if only to relieve the tension swirling in your belly. “God, me too.”

You imagine he must actually know what he’s talking about, with that accent. Southern barbeque is no joke. Or rather, was. 

“What about you?” he asks, and the answer is ready on your tongue. 

“Music. Movies.”

He nods in agreement. “Movies. I loved those.”

“Maybe we could reenact one,” you suggest, teasing him and you start to laugh when you see his frown return. “You know, see how much we can remember of our favorite ones? Write the lines down and see if we can —”

He’s already pushing away from you, something you resist with a dig of your fingers into his shoulders and it makes you laugh even more.

“Oh come on,” you coax him as he shakes his head. He tugs you closer, lifting you higher up around his waist and turns to walk out of the creek. 

“It’ll be fun! Let’s –” 

You’re cut off when he dumps you into the water next to him, your limbs trying to right themselves and when you come up he’s already climbing up the bank, his clothes molded to his body. Your mouth goes dry, your lips slightly parted and he bends to grab the soap he was using earlier, tossing it in your direction with a splash. 

“Wash up,” he says, grabbing his own damp towel from the grass and then his rifle. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, he starts to walk back up to the cabin, and you grin at the way you can see him shaking his head at himself. 

—

It’s late, when you hear it. 

Curled up on the couch with a book in your hand, his mumbling drifts down the hall from his bedroom. Sleep thick, his drawl deeper than it usually is, you listen to him for a moment and when it tapers off, you go back to reading. The lantern’s light flickers over the page, the papery brush of you turning it the only sound in the room and when he suddenly shouts, you startle with a jump. 

“Tommy! Tommy help!”

Bolting off the couch, you rush down the hallway and push without thought through his doorway that’s stopped you so many times. He’s there, thrashing in his sheets, fighting an enemy you can’t see. 

“No, no. Come on baby girl,” he mumbles again. The neckline of his shirt is drenched and dark with sweat, his face twisted in a grimace. “No. No.” 

On the last no, his voice catches in a sob and you kneel on the bed, grasping his shoulder to shake him awake. “Joel. Joel. Wake up.”

The second you touch him, he’s up in an instant — his eyes wide open and full of sorrow and rage, his body reacting on instinct. His hand clamps around your wrist with a painful grip, the other twisting in the thin cotton of your shirt to tug you close and he looks furious, drawing in ragged breaths.

You freeze in his hold and wait until he slowly softens in recognition, letting you go. He draws back, forcing distance between the two of you.

“Sorry,” he mutters, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard. The heels of his hands dig into his eyes for a moment and you sit down on the edge of the bed. 

“You okay?” You venture quietly. 

“Yea,” he says, looking down at his knees. His face is stuck in a troubled frown, like he’s still in his head. “Yea, I’m — just a dream.”

You stay with him for a moment, waiting to see if maybe he’ll start talking, but when he won’t meet your eyes, you stand. When you get to the door, you stop and look back. 

“I’ll be out here if you need me, okay?”

He rolls onto his side, facing away from you and saying nothing, nods. 

– 

Not being able to sleep, you hear him get out of bed early the next morning and watch him pass your doorway. The  door opens as he walks outside to use the bathroom and lying there, you wonder if you should bring up the nightmare. 

Another plank laid down on this tentative bridge of closeness between the two of you, he seemed more relaxed yesterday in the water. The first time he’s ever mentioned or ventured to discuss the past without immediately shutting you down with a silent, stern look, the memory gives you enough confidence to bring it up when you eventually get out of bed, wandering into the kitchen. 

He’s there, already dressed and prepping for the day and when you greet him, he replies while staying turned away from you. 

Tugging your blanket around your shoulders for fortification, you wait a moment before speaking. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Talk about what?”

Rolling your eyes at his back, you continue. “About last night. About the dream you had.” His shoulders tense under the worn flannel, but you push forward. “Seemed like a bad one. Worse than I’ve seen you have anyway, since we’ve been together.”

He turns, his face closed off and tight, his hands busy shoving supplies into his pack. “It was nothing. I barely remember it.”

You hesitate, biting your bottom lip. “You seem kinda bothered about it this morning. Or bothered by something, anyway.” Trying to meet his eye, he resolutely keeps his own down. “We all have them, Joel. It might be good –”

“Just leave it okay?” he cuts you off harshly, looking up. “It was just a dream. Didn’t mean anything, so we don’t have to talk about it.” 

His posture squared off and stiff and his jaw set with a clench, his tone brooks no room for argument. This conversation is effectively over as far as he is concerned and you look at the old Joel in front of you, the one you first met so long ago.

“I’m gonna go check out the area.” He says, buckling the straps on his backpack. “See what we’re workin’ with. Scout around, make sure no one else has figured out we’re here.” He slings the strap over his shoulder, grabbing his rifle off the counter and you move to join him. 

“Okay, let me just get my stuff.” 

Stopping you with a frown, he shakes his head in frustration. “No. You’re gonna stay here. I’m gonna go alone.”

“Why? Don’t you think I should come with? We always go together.”

“Not today.” He walks towards the door, his footfalls heavy in his boots and you automatically follow him. “Just stay here, okay? I’ll be back tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning if –”

“Tomorrow morning?” you ask, panic rising in your throat. 

Insecurities flood into your tone and your mind: this because you pushed him about the dream. This is because of the lake. This is because of the way you forced him to stay here when he didn’t want to, and now he’s getting tired of entertaining whatever this is and he’s going to leave. He’s going to say he’s coming back, but he won’t. He’ll keep going and you’ll be left here alone and –

“Wait. Just wait for me to get my stuff. I don’t –” You scramble for words, anxiety choking you when he steps outside. 

“Joel!”

He doesn’t stop and doesn’t look back either, and trying not to cry, you slump against the frame still wrapped in your blanket and watch him go. 

-

The overgrown path that led to the cabin in the first place also leads away from it, continuing on into the forest and he follows it, his gut telling him to go back. 

He hates that he left like that. 

Not trusting himself to leave if he met your eyes, he forced himself not to answer or turn around when you called for him but it doesn’t matter in the end, because he sees them nonetheless. 

He sees your face when he scans for any sign of life while walking, hears the panic in your voice with every step he takes. Worries about you being left alone when he finds another abandoned cabin in the woods three miles from your own. He approaches it the same way he did yours, tearing the tarp off the back to let himself inside and crawling in through the window, he wonders if this used to be resort property with the way these places are preserved. 

Taking his time, he combs through every one of the rooms, grabbing what he deems to have use: rain jackets, first aid supplies, as much food as he can cram in his pack before he finds a bag in the kitchen to hold more. Early afternoon turns into late, the sun settling into the horizon and the entire time, he feels the remnants of his dream. 

He does remember it, though he would never admit that to you. It’s the same one he has all the time, only her face has started to blur into your face, though the outcome stays the same. He wakes up frantic and panting, his hands grasping the ghost of something he’s lost and he can’t decide if he wants to burn the world in his rage or sob because he’s failed. 

The dream he had last night the worst he’s had in a while, everything was covered in shadows and sorrow, slices of time merging and blending together.  Your face in that garden and then in his bed, your body arching underneath his. Your back as you walked in front of him in the forest, a punch of fear in his gut at the echo of gunshots as you hit the ground. Those same shots but the world tilting, and then he held a much smaller, limp body in his arms.  

Still raw, he had felt trapped when you asked him about the dream, the kitchen walls closing in as the image of her lifeless in his arms grew more real and vivid by the minute and needing to leave, the attachment he’s allowed you to form made him panic even more. Clear in your voice when you begged for him to stay, the crushing pressure of someone depending on him had settled in his chest, the weight of it making it hard to breathe. 

The pain that he’s spent years burying, now uncovered and overturned, brought to the surface.

He remembered that kind of love. 

The kind that swirled heavy in his chest, the kind that flooded it until he thought he would burst. So similar to the physical feeling of being overwhelmed and afraid, the feeling had long ago become synonymous with fear with him — but hadn’t that always been the case?

Fear, because you have so much more to lose? 

He needed to go for a lot of reasons —  to gather more supplies where he could, to ensure there were no threats out there that he couldn’t see, but he also needed to get some fucking space so he could think about anything but your questions and the way you look at him and your eyes in the dark and your body molded to his in the water, your breasts in that tank top – 

He’s felt it, your interest and god — god, he wants so much to press his mouth against yours and take. Trying so hard all this time to resist his urges, you had gotten in that lake right in front of him and he couldn't help himself. Allowed himself the pleasure of holding onto you in the most innocent way possible if only for a moment, just to slake his endless thirst.

He couldn’t stop staring. 

Your bare, fresh face. The hardened buds of your nipples through your thin tank top. 

He imagined the way they would drag against the flat of his tongue, wanted them to peak for another reason besides cold. He wanted to suck on them, press a kiss to each one, pinch them gently to see what your reaction would be, flick his tongue –

No. 

Not only do you deserve more than just the release he clearly needs, but you are too young and naive to ever let it be just that. No, you’d attach something more meaningful to it, and that’s not something he wants. That’s not something he’s capable of. 

Heavy with new found loot as he makes his way back through the dusk, he thinks about everything you’ve been doing the past few weeks in a different, new light. He wanted to prepare you, but now he sees it for what it really is: the two of you are playing house, and it’s been a long fucking time since he’s done that with anybody. 

Dark when he finally returns, a single window glows with the inviting light of a low lit lantern. He carefully avoids the traps, stepping around them in the darkness and letting himself in, he frowns when you don’t immediately greet him. 

The living room is silent and empty, his heart picking up in his chest as his mind conjures the idea that you aren’t there, but his body immediately rejects it. He can feel your presence, being tuned into its exact frequency for a while. 

Setting his pack and rifle down, he walks down the hallway to your bedroom and finding it empty, he turns to see you curled up in his own. Tucked into a ball on his side, your face is buried in his pillow, your body hidden under his blanket and he stands there for a moment, looking. 

Clearly wanting him too, he could take his boots off and climb in behind you. Curl his body around yours and take you into his arms. Press his face into your hair and share your warmth. Sleep…or not. 

You would let him.

You want him to, and wanting nothing more himself, he walks back into the living room. Turning out the light you left burning for him, he stretches out on the couch and lies there, awake. 

[marhor9879]

Coq au Vin

Ingredients

3 pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken legs, thighs, drumsticks, or a combination

3 teaspoons kosher salt, divided, plus more as needed

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more as needed

4 ounces thick-cut bacon or pancetta, cut into 1/4-inch-wide pieces (about 1 cup)

1 large yellow onion, diced (about 2 cups)

2 large carrots, peeled and diced (about 1 1/2 cups)

3 cloves garlic, minced

1 tablespoon tomato paste

2 dried bay leaves

1 teaspoon dried thyme

1 1/2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1/4 cup Cognac or brandy

2 cups dry red wine, preferably Burgundy or Pinot Noir

1 cup low-sodium chicken broth

3 tablespoons unsalted butter

8 ounces cremini or baby bella mushrooms, quartered (about 3 cups)

8 ounces fresh or frozen pearl onions, peeled if fresh (do not thaw frozen, about 2 cups)

Chopped fresh parsley leaves, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Pat 3 pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken pieces dry with paper towels and season all over with 2 teaspoons of the kosher salt and 1/2 teaspoon black pepper.

Cook 4 ounces chopped thick-cut bacon in a Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the fat is rendered and the bacon is browned, 6 to 8 minutes. Transfer to a plate with a slotted spoon.

Increase the heat to medium-high. Working in 2 batches, add the chicken skin-side down to the pot in a single layer. Sear until the skin is crisp, golden-brown, and releases easily from the pan, then flip and sear the second side, 3 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer the chicken to a large plate or baking sheet; it will not be cooked through.

Reduce the heat to medium. Add 1 diced large yellow onion, 2 peeled and diced large carrots, and 1/2 teaspoon of the kosher salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in 3 minced garlic cloves, 1 tablespoon tomato paste, 2 dried bay leaves, and 1 teaspoon dried thyme. Cook until the tomato paste is fragrant and darker in color, about 2 minutes. Stir in 1 1/2 tablespoons all-purpose flour and cook for 1 minute to remove the floury taste.

Add 1/4 cup Cognac and cook until evaporated, about 30 seconds. Add 2 cups dry red wine and 1 cup low-sodium chicken broth, and scrape any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Bring to a simmer. Reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer.

Return the chicken to the pot skin-side up so that it is mostly submerged (some overlapping is OK); pour in any accumulated juices from the plate. Cover and simmer until the chicken is very tender, about 30 minutes. Meanwhile, melt 3 tablespoons unsalted butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add 8 ounces quartered cremini mushrooms, 8 ounces pearl onions, and the remaining 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until tender and lightly browned all over, 10 to 12 minutes. Turn off the heat.

Add the reserved bacon, mushrooms, and onions to the pot and stir to combine. Cook uncovered for 10 minutes to let the flavors meld.

Remove and discard the bay leaves. Taste and season with more kosher salt and black pepper as needed. Garnish with chopped fresh parsley leaves if desired.

[perplexedflower]

Something Familiar

Fandom: Resident Evil.

Category: F/M.

Relationship: Chris Redfield x Female Reader.

Type: One shot.

Words: 5,126.

Summary: Blurry memories, a somewhat familiar environment… As [Y/N] finds herself waking up one morning in a bedroom that is not hers, all her questions are soon answered as she reunites with Chris after what has seemed like an eternity.

Chronology: Post-Resident Evil 8.

~~~~~~~~~~

Feeling as though I was waking up from a deep slumber, I opened my eyes slowly, and immediately found myself surrounded by a familiar smell; not too soft, but not too strong at the same time. It did not take me long to realize I was lying on a bed, although, not in my bedroom, therefore deducing I was not at home. I looked around and down at my body, only to find it buried underneath the sheets of a large double bed, reigning in a large bedroom, entirely illuminated by sunlight shining through a window to my left which forced my eyes to open wider as I felt the rays warm the skin of my face.

After having truly awakened, I made an effort to move to the other side of the bed, next to which the nightstand was; however, the slightest movement of my body made me quickly realize how physically weak I was, as pain instantly flowed through my muscles. Once I had rolled over to my right, I turned my head to the clock resting on the nightstand and saw it was midday, around noon. Next to it, on one corner of the bedside table, I also noticed some pills and what seemed to be medication, though I had no idea what they were for, or who they were for; in fact, I had no idea what I was doing in this bedroom whatsoever.

I closed my eyes firmly as I took a deep breath in to try and remember my latest memories, but no matter how deep I dug, I had no clear recollection of what the past few days had been like for me.

Brushing my worries away, my attention was once more drawn toward the scent, the tender and affectionate smell that was emanating from the bedsheets and enveloping me whole. Rising into a sitting position ever so slowly, I pushed the sheets aside and got out of bed: but as I set foot on the cold floor, my legs immediately bent under my weight, as if having not carried me for a long time. I managed to steady myself by holding onto the side of the nightstand, stopping my body from falling back on the bed, and as I took more and more steps, started to regain balance.

By the time I had stabilized myself, I was out of the bedroom and into a short hallway; walking through it quietly, I was then faced with a flight of stairs that took me almost directly into a kitchen, neatly cleaned and ordered. Once there, a rather small piece of paper set on the counter caught my attention before I could really take in anything else in the room. Picking it up curiously, I first read my name on it and understood it was a memo addressed to me.

"Thursday, March 10.

If today is the day you wake up, you'll find some cereals and loaves of bread in the left-side cupboard in case you want to make yourself breakfast. If you're rather looking for a dish for lunch, you'll find some chicken and leftovers of stir-fried vegetables in the fridge. I cooked them yesterday so don't worry, they're still good to eat. I can only imagine how hungry you'll be after waking up, so don't hesitate to grab whatever food you want. However, please wait for my return if you want to cook something intricate, you won't be fully recovered and I don't want you to harm yourself or push yourself too hard until I come back.

Lastly, if you're looking to change into other clothes, you'll find a good portion of your wardrobe in the closet of my bedroom, on the right-side shelves."

No signature had been left at the end of the memo, but I did not need one to recognize it was written in Chris' handwriting.

Chris...

I held my breath, along with the piece of paper in my hands as I started thinking of him; a part of me felt taken aback, as if I had forgotten about him before and was only now remembering him. However, it felt to me like something was not quite right. I tried my best to remember what led me to end up in what evidently seemed to be his house, in addition to why it was empty, but no clear answer came to my mind. Instead, I focused on scanning the kitchen briefly, until spotting a bin, somewhat transparent and open, revealing its content to me.

Right away, I noticed from afar what appeared to be crumbled pieces of paper, and my suspicions were verified when I approached it: I grabbed the first one on top of the pile, unfolded it, and read it out loud. It bared the date from the day before, the 9th of March, and followed the same pattern as the up-to-date memo I had read barely a few minutes before. And still, it was in Chris' handwriting. I set it aside to pick up a few others, only to see they repeated themselves, with only the types of food available changing from one to another. Reading these notes, I felt something shake deep within my core, moving me, triggering something in me, without knowing what it was exactly.

Determined to find answers to my never-ending questions, I threw all the crumbled notes back in the bin, before deciding to wander around the house in hopes of finding even the slightest of things that would help my memory tick. Letting my hand drift on the walls gently, I progressed through each room, and soon felt some pieces of the puzzle starting to connect in my mind: this was indeed Chris' house, and I could recall that I had been there before, countless times. And although I was still unable to justify my presence there, or even why Chris himself was not home, I kept on venturing from room to room.

I eventually found the bathroom and stepped inside, walking towards the sink: looking at myself in the mirror, I found my face to be pale and frail, expressing fatigue. Only then did I notice I was only wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts, both from my personal wardrobe.

I deserve a proper change of clothes... and a shower. Feels like I haven't taken one in over a century.

Giving my face one last look in the mirror, I took my clothes off, set them aside, and stepped into the shower. Turning the water on, its contact with my skin instantly soothed me, easing me into a warm and cozy sensation. I allowed myself to spend as much time as I needed inside the shower, letting the hot water cleanse me, feeling it slowly trickle along my body. After having enjoyed the water's heat for long enough, I grabbed what I assumed could only have been a bottle of Chris' shampoo I had spotted nearby earlier, as well as a bottle of shower gel, confident that he would not mind me using them. Opening the cap of the shampoo bottle, I was instantly surrounded by yet another familiar smell, once again, like one of the bedsheets. The scent wrapped me completely, in a feeling of warmth and comfort; holding the bottle tight with my fingers, I let my mind roam deep into thoughts as I washed my hair and body.

After having spent quite some time washing, I stepped out of the shower and stared at myself once more: this time, I found that I looked considerably better, and, surely, less tired-looking. Wrapping myself in a towel, I threw my clothes in the dirty laundry basket and waited to have dried a bit before heading back to the bedroom, in search of the clothes Chris' memo had told me about. While waiting and as I made my way upstairs slowly, I could not help but think deeper about him, my mind still swirling with questions and interrogations.

Once in the bedroom, though, my concerns vanished, replaced with my longing to open the closet in which I would find new, clean clothes to change into; and, indeed, I opened the doors to find some, if not a considerate amount of my clothes, as rightfully indicated by Chris' note. A smile formed on my face and I felt a touch of blush appear on my cheeks as I wondered if he had personally chosen the clothes stored here himself, noticing they were mainly the ones I wore most often, as well as some of my personal favorites. I started taking some of my clothes off the shelves, wondering what to wear, depending on what would be most comfortable, as it was my top priority.

I feel like wearing these pants, but with this sweater, I might be too ho—

All of a sudden, I heard the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs, abruptly interrupting my thoughts; it was quickly followed by a couple of slow and heavy footsteps. A moment of silence ensued, then the sound of paper bags dropping on the floor tiles was immediately followed by the loud echo of yet another set of footsteps, this time, rapidly climbing up the staircase leading to the bedroom.

In the blink of an eye, the footsteps stopped and I was faced with Chris, barging out the bedroom door I had left unclosed, eyes wide open and exhaling from his mouth. We looked at one another in silence, staring into each other's eyes, and an indescribable feeling started filling me up.

"[Y/N]..." He whispered in a voice expressing shock and surprise, but a deep sense of relief as well.

I felt as though time had stopped, my breath held sharp, my eyes lost in Chris', until he took a step in my direction; I instinctively backed away, holding my towel close to my body, with visible hints of red spread all over my face. He suddenly stopped himself in his tracks and a thin layer of blush appeared on his cheeks as he cleared his throat and turned around to exit the room, both executed with embarrassment, before closing the door behind him.

Another silence reigned, this time heavy and tense. But barely a few seconds after the door had closed, I heard the sound of something hitting it lightly on the other side.

"Of course you'd wake up when I'm not home..."

Judging by how close his voice sounded, I guessed the sound I had heard was of his head resting against the door; feeling myself blush harder by what had just happened, I released the pressure of my hands on my towel, reassured Chris was not in the room anymore to see me in such a way.

"When did you wake up?"

"About half an hour ago."

I heard him exhale in relief from the other side of the door as I took in the composition of the bedroom; only then did I actually take a look around it, making my way slowly through the room.

"And how are you feeling?" Chris asked.

I walked to the other side of the bed and observed the ashtray set on the other nightstand.

"I've seen better days, but I'm fine."

Another sigh of relief.

"I see you've already taken a shower..." He started, his voice expressing light awkwardness. "That's good, I'm sure it must have felt refreshing."

I smiled a little as I gave him a nod he could not see. He cleared his throat again, the slightly lower volume of his voice making me understand he was backing away from the door.

"Well, I'll let you finish dressing up, in the meantime I'll go into the kitchen to clean the groceries I left on the floor. Join me downstairs once you're done."

"All right."

I looked down at my hands and played around with my fingers, listening to the sound of his footsteps as his words echoed through my mind; it had been way too long since I had last heard the sound of his voice, and it made a part of me feel warm and fuzzy. Quickly, I went back to the closet to slip into a pair of stretchy jeans and a t-shirt, trying my best to set my thoughts aside. But as I was about to close it back, my eyes fell on some of Chris' clothes, and, almost instinctively, I followed the voice inside of me telling me to pick one of his shirts up; slowly, I brought one of his turtlenecks up to my face, holding the fabric delicately, and taking in the scent emanating from it. Sudden sounds of rustling in the kitchen brought me back to my senses and I promptly put the shirt back on the shelf, my cheeks covered with red.

I briskly made my way down the stairs and entered the kitchen to find Chris putting food inside his shelves and fridge; he turned around to look at me and sighed once more, as if he was looking at the ghost of someone he had long lost hope of seeing again. I smiled at him and the second I did so, I saw his eyes shine brightly with a radiant spark. He gave me a slightly awkward smile back, before going back to store his groceries away.

I watched him go back and forth between his bags and his shelves, neither of us saying a word; it was as if everything was normal, the way it was supposed to be. But something was still off for me.

"Chris... can you fill me in as to what the hell's happening?" I started, placing an elbow on the counter. "You don't seem as confused as me, but I'd like to know why I woke up in your bed this morning, and why I feel so... strange."

His arm stopped midway into motion, hanging in the air for a few seconds, and he turned around with furrowed eyebrows.

"You don't remember what happened?"

"What happened when? My memory is really blurry, I've got no idea why, but it seems like I've been missing a part of my life recently."

Looking at me with concerned eyes, Chris slowly put a hand on the counter.

"[Y/N], you were practically sleeping for a week straight."

Like a kick to the guts, I was left stunned, keeping my mouth open for a few seconds, but falling speechless.

"... What?"

He gulped, visibly troubled, before finally setting down the pack of drinks he was holding, turning all his attention to me.

"About a week ago, you, me, and the rest of the squad were on a mission over on the other side of the country. Long story short, it was exhausting and required us to stay alert for a long while. You above all the others invested too much of yourself into it... and we later found out you'd deprived yourself of sleep for multiple nights in a row, just to keep your guard up. Not only that, but you weren't taking proper care of your diet either. We eventually decided to launch an attack plan, and you went into it with a weakened physical condition."

Chris marked a break in his story, looking down with what felt to me was remorse.

"You ended up getting hit. It wasn't anything serious, but it was enough to knock you unconscious. The second I saw you fall, I came to pick you up and gave you to Canine to watch over you until we'd be outta there. After we were done, we took off and brought you to a medic, who told us you had nothing severe, not enough to put you in a hospital, at least, but that you needed rest. He'd actually said we should expect to see you sleep for days on straight..."

He scoffed under his breath while slowly shaking his head, which was still lowered.

"Hell, even I didn't know it was possible to sleep for that long."

I looked into his eyes as I registered one by one each piece of information he had given me.

"And you brought me to your house."

Chris raised his head and looked back into my eyes with a sincere expression.

"I brought you here, so that I could keep an eye on you and treat you. I told the squad we'd set aside every mission we had planned until you'd wake up and fully recover, so I've been spending all my days at home since, set aside the occasional grocery shopping."

I felt the very core of my soul heat up as I smiled shyly.

"Thank you, Chris. For everything." I said warmly.

He looked down, seeming pensive, before turning back to unpack his last remaining groceries.

"Don't thank me yet. I haven't had the chance to lecture you properly about your behavior during the mission, and don't think you'll escape from it."

He's still the same old Chris. I thought while failing to suppress a gentle scoff. Nothing has really changed in the span of a week.

"You've got yourself injured and that's nothing to take lightly, [Y/N]." He continued with the same serious tone. "And speaking of which..."

Leaving his sentence unfinished, he closed the cupboards as he stored away his last supplies; he walked to me and put a gentle hand on my back, escorting me out of the kitchen to take me into the living room instead.

"Sit down." He ordered me, though not too roughly as he pointed to the couch in front of us.

"What for?"

"I have to inspect you to see if you're fine." He answered, already on his way to the couch.

I let a chuckle escape from my lips as I complied, too amused by the situation to disobey. He sat down beside me and I suddenly felt my smile disappear, replaced by shyness, feeling him so close to me on this couch, occupied mostly by blankets and pillows, leaving the both of us little room to sit, and forcing us to squeeze next to each other. He started grabbing my arms and inspecting me, holding my chin to make my head turn left and right.

"How have you been feeling since you've been awake? Any vertigo, any pain?"

"Chris, I'm fine." I said with a smile.

I tried making him understand it was pointless, that nothing was wrong with me, but he kept on inspecting me nonetheless, searching for any issue.

"Chris..."

"You were hit on the head, [Y/N], I can't overlook that."

Bringing his face close to mine, he grabbed the back of my head to examine it, feeling the surface of my skin with his palm to try and spot any abnormalities.

"Chris!"

He stopped moving, his face inches from me, his eyes locked on mine.

"I'm fine, really." I told him with sincerity.

I smiled from one corner of my mouth as I looked down at him quickly, before bringing my eyes back on his face.

"I'm just hungry."

He stared at me for a few seconds with a soft expression before backing away with a sigh.

"All right. It's time for lunch anyway."

Chris finally got off me and stood up from the couch, heading back to the kitchen, leaving me to smile at myself as I felt butterflies dancing in my stomach. This feeling reminded me of how much I had missed him during these seven days I had spent sleeping, how I was happy to fill this gap now that he was with me again; or, more so, that I was with him.

Getting up from the couch as well, I joined him in the kitchen, lured in by the sound of pots and pans. Seeing me beside him, Chris turned his head to me and looked into my eyes, his cheeks sprinkled with blush.

"Wanna cook with me?"

"Sure." I answered enthusiastically. "I'm not gonna let you prepare lunch all by yourself, after all."

"All right, but there are certain things I'm not gonna let you do, I don't want you to exhaust yourself too much." He replied, ever so seriously.

His concern once again made me laugh, given it was clearly unnecessary. I proved him wrong and showed him I was in good shape by helping him make lunch, fetching him ingredients and carefully making the dishes, though he made it clear he wanted me to stay away from any knife or sharp utensils, fearing I would hurt myself. Throughout our cooking session, I felt his attitude and behavior soften, seeing him let his guard down as he allowed his inner self to relax and enjoy this time with me.

I knew better than anyone that Chris needed to be eased into a sense of comfort and intimacy to make him drop his cold exteriors and reveal his true face; my light temporary amnesia had taken away parts of my memories, including some I had shared with him, but it did not take me long to recover them, little by little, as I laughed and joked with him in his kitchen. Once we had finished making lunch, we sat down in front of the counter to eat, facing each other.

Just as I was about to take my first bite, my mouth let a deep yawn out; as soon as I opened my eyes back, I laughed seeing Chris look at me with an unbelievable expression.

"I know what you're gonna say..."

He shook his head as he started digging his fork and knife into his meat.

"Seven days wasn't enough for you?"

"Apparently not." I said with a chuckle.

He brought his food to his mouth and I mirrored his movements; the second my palate tasted the dish I had cooked with him, I felt my body react as if it was only now waking up truly, suddenly regaining strength. Only then, as I filled up my stomach more and more with each bite did I realize how much I had craved food, and how my body had missed it during these seven days of slumber.

"I don't know if it's just me because I haven't eaten anything in a week, but this tastes delicious." I told Chris with my mouth full in-between two bites.

"No, it's not just you." He said with a chuckle. "It really is good, I'll admit we did a great job."

But his smile soon faded away to be replaced with a pensive expression instead.

"Seven days, though..." He started, shaking his head slowly while bringing his fork up to his lips. "There's no way you actually spent every one of your days here sleeping... Do you remember anything? Maybe you opened your eyes every now and then before dozing off again?"

I swallowed the bite I had in my mouth before shrugging quickly.

"I don't know... I think I do remember some vague moments when I woke up in your bed, but they never lasted long, and nothing much happened."

I took another bite as I looked up at Chris with curious eyes.

"By the way, where have... you been sleeping all this time?"

A part of me had already theorized a potential answer to that question, but instantly dismissed it away, thinking it was too crazy to even take into consideration.

"On the couch in the living room." He replied casually.

"Chris!" I let out with an exaggerated yet light gasp as I put my fork down. "The couch? You wanna lecture me about my sleeping habits when you're spending your nights on the couch?"

I saw his expression shift into a more serious one as he slowly stopped eating too.

"Don't start."

I was obviously joking around, purposefully making a big deal out of something which was not important, toying with him just a little.

"I know you've got sleeping problems, Chris, and spending seven nights on a couch is not gonna make things better. Why didn't you take the bed?"

"Because you matter more!" Chris suddenly exclaimed as he slammed his fist on the counter, making me jump in surprise. "You were the one who needed a proper bed, it didn't matter where I'd sleep, as long as you were safe... Goddammit, [Y/N], I was worried sick about you."

He did not shout, but his voice was loud enough to make me hold my breath. I looked down, not knowing what to reply, before grabbing my plate by the edge and standing up from my chair.

"I'll go warm up my plate in the microwave, it's gone cold." I spoke in a very low tone.

But as soon as my feet touched the ground, I limped and lost balance, barely managing to put my plate back down on the counter before almost letting it fall and break.

"Shit—"

Chris immediately stood up from his chair and hurried toward me to grab me, holding me tight by the arms and waist, making sure I was stable and would not fall.

"It's ok— I got you—"

The tone in his voice had softened dramatically as his first instinct was to reassure me. And it worked just as intended: the second I heard his words of comfort, I felt warm and secure, draped in a blanket of tenderness. He led me to the couch and helped me stabilize myself with each step I took, all while holding me close. His hands against my skin, strong but delicate sent shivers down my spine, and somehow made my limbs even weaker.

"Are you all right?"

"Y-Yeah, don't worry." I managed to articulate. "I think it's just my body reacting to receiving food after such a long time without it... I may have eaten more than my stomach can hold."

Chris held his gaze on me with a concerned expression.

"... Are you sure it's not because you were too active when making lunch?"

Before leaving me time to consider this factor, he bit his lower lip lightly and diverted his eyes from mine.

"God, I knew it was a bad idea..."

I placed a shy hand on his torso, which made him turn back to me; I smiled at him warmly, making him understand without a single word that he needed not to feel guilty, and he replied with saddened eyes and a small nod. Having reached the couch, he set me down gently, and we sat similarly to before, only this time I did not push him away: as he held me, I let myself lean against him, until being entirely wrapped in his arms. I heard him take a deep breath in as I rested my head on his chest, calming down to the sound of his speeding heartbeat.

"I've missed you." I spoke up in a warm and emotional voice.

I felt Chris tighten his hold on me just a little as I talked.

"I'm sorry I exploded at you." He said, almost in a whisper.

"No, it's fine. It's my fault for joking around at such an inappropriate time. I can't imagine how much stress you've been under because of me over the past week."

Another silence reigned, during which the two of us cherished that special moment.

"I've missed you too."

He gently stroked the top of my head while I heard him inhale deeply once again.

"And I want you to know that I worry about you, [Y/N], because I love you."

I could not help but hold tighter onto his shirt, feeling my breath sharpen.

"It... may not be anything new to you... I've been told by a few of the guys I'm kinda obvious..." He spoke shyly, clearly embarrassed.

Nevertheless, despite his awkwardness, he kept on keeping me close to him with a love that expressed confidence.

"But, frankly, I never cared much whether you noticed or not, all I ever wanted you to know was that I'd be here for you, by your side and keeping you safe no matter what."

As much as my heart was melting, as much as I wanted to bury myself deeper into his chest, I gathered the strength to pull away and look up at him. His eyes met mine in a moment of weakness, before I felt a blush forming on my cheeks and promptly looked away.

"You know, I never noticed..." I confessed. "Not once did I consider you could feel attraction for me, it felt... surreal, to me."

I looked up into his eyes again to find a loving warmth in them.

"Because... I love you too, and my mind was unable to convince itself that you'd ever reciprocate my feelings..."

As I lowered my eyes back down, Chris raised my chin up with two of his fingers, an ounce of a smile on his face.

"Well, your mind was wrong."

I smiled shyly, feeling his contagious grin spreading to me. My chin still held by his thumb and index, it however progressively vanished, an intense expression of passion taking shape on his face instead. In silence, he moved his hand to my cheek, caressing the surface of my skin delicately with his thumb. He leaned his face closer to mine and grasped the side of my waist as our lips touched, embracing each other lovingly.

I was instantly filled with warmth and tenderness, although the kiss itself was quite rough, Chris' beard scratching my skin; his lips, slightly rugged, hugged mine perfectly as if they had only been made for each other. We barely had time to pull away from our first kiss that we both asked for more, his hand bringing my face close to his again. With each kiss, I felt my soul lift up, and my body liquefy further with each touch Chris gave me.

Once we both pulled away, I snuggled against his chest once more, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

"I can't believe this is real..." I said, my voice muffled.

He chuckled in an incredibly endearing way as he lay more comfortably on the couch, allowing me to stretch myself further against him.

"You sure I'm not sleeping anymore?"

Chris lifted my head with both of his hands, holding the sides of my face tenderly.

"You're not." He said with a smile.

His eyes sparkled with a burning love I could not help but feel too, in the very core of my being.

"But even if you were, I'd make sure to give it all to you again once you'd wake up."

[specialinterestshows]

Anxiety doesn’t get a day off in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow.

Warnings for this section: Panic attack mention, stalking mention, cannabis (weed), parasocial behavior

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 72 of ?): Another Bump In The Road

Your name was being called in a familiar Australian lilt. You must have fallen asleep, but how lucky you were to wake up to your beautiful girlfriend.

Opening your eyes, you see Rhea looking down at you, concerned. Dom kneels down to peer over her shoulder, also looking worried.

“We heard something in the hall and went to check,” Dominik told you, a comforting hand squeezing Rhea’s shoulder. Then, looking around as he stood up: “How did you fall but the food didn’t?”

“Shit,” you sat up, remembering how you ended up here on the hallway floor in the first place, “That’s embarrassing.”

“What is?” Dom asked, eyeing the tray suspiciously for a moment.

“I haven’t had a panic attack that bad since I had to do a 20-minute book report in front of the entire class senior year,” you explained, trying to lighten the mood when your girlfriend’s frown deepened at the information, “I was the only one who got an “A” without having to do the full twenty; the girl I had a crush on actually started talking to me after that!”

“What made you so stressed just now, then, love?” Rhea asked, offering you her hand as she stood, “How can I help?”

Letting her hoist you up, you watched Dom take the tray of food into the room before speaking again.

“… Have you checked any of your social media today?”

“You know me, babe: I’m only on my phone to talk to you or Dom,” she replied, nodding for you to follow her back into the room, “Both of my loves are here with me, so my phone is just a fancy clock right now.”

“Well, I think one of the people taking photos of us last night was a reporter or something,” you explained, closing the door behind you, “One of the pictures ended up on the front of a magazine downstairs. They called me a…”

Belt bunny. Somehow you couldn’t say it out loud. They think I only want to be with her because she’s a wrestler with a title? That I don’t really love her?

“Fucking wankers,” Rhea hissed, her mind filling in the blanks - with what, you weren’t sure. She paced back and forth before pausing and taking a deep breath.

“This is all my fault,” Rhea sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, setting her elbows down on her legs, and running her fingers through her hair as she lowered her head, “I should have been more careful last night.”

There was a part of you that agreed - a part that was still hurt by the fact that you didn’t get to have a say in your exposure to the media, including people whose job descriptions were “stalk celebrities and everyone in their orbit.” People like the ones that tried to follow the three of you last night. It was enough to make you hesitate.

“Rhe…” you sighed, pushing past the memory as you sat down next to her, “It’s not your fault people won’t let you have your privacy.”

“She’s right,” Dom agreed, setting the breakfast tray down on the bed before pulling out his reheated chicken tenders, “Blaming yourself won’t help. But food?” - he raised his container - “Food might help.”

“… How?” Rhea asked after a moment, raising her eyebrow at him and reluctantly picking up a piece of toast.

“Dunno,” he admitted, grinning sheepishly, “But it always makes me feel better.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” she laughed, her amused smile lighting up her face again as she took a bite.

You gave Dom an appreciative look, standing up and miming smoking a joint before heading back into the bathroom. The fan was still on and your supplies were exactly where you had left them on the counter.

Click. Inhale.

Puff. Puff.

Hold.

… Slow exhale.

Take a breath.

Long inhale.

You concentrated your attention on the motions until you felt it taking effect.

It wasn’t until the smoke started to relieve some of the ache in your muscles that you realized you were aching in the first place. Judging by the way it felt, your shoulder had taken most of the impact when you fell. Massaging it, you winced when your fingers pushed down on a tender spot. A bruise. You suppose it could be worse and take another hit, the conversation in the bedroom barely audible - until your girlfriend’s voice suddenly filled the room.

“Bloody FUCKING-“ Rhea interrupted herself with a frustrated growl as you heard a small thud on the carpeted floor.

“Everything okay?” you called, licking your fingers and using them to extinguishing the joint’s embers in your haste to check on your girlfriend.

Her phone, lying right by the bathroom door, stops you in your tracks. Rhea seems to have resumed pacing, muttering a string of curses under her breath. Picking up her phone, you see what angered her:

A conversation thread on a public post between a few different users; the topic seemed to be speculation on who Rhea Ripley’s girlfriend was.

“I think I’ve seen her at the new gay bar!”

“OMG i think she lives in my same apartments??”

“Does anyone know her name?”

Rhea’s phone was yanked out of your hands by an apologetic-looking Dom - chicken still in hand - before you could read further.

“I didn’t want to stress you out more,” he said by way of explanation. Medicated as you were, taking the phone away was likely for the best as you were trying to process how you were going to deal with this terrible new development.

“Call the others,” Rhea stopped pacing to direct the order at Dominik, “Have them meet us in the parking lot.”

He nodded, stuffing one last bite in his mouth as your girlfriend started packing up her things, appearing to have turned her fury into hyper-focused purpose and intention.

“Do you need me to head out, then?” you ask, confused.

“No, not at all,” Rhea looked up for a moment, holding your gaze to make sure you understood, “You’re coming with us to the next show; we’re keeping you safe.”

[end part seventy-two of ?]

Part 73: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/751135060387938304/absolute-smokeshow-part-73-of-from-one-show

-

Tag list (thank you!)

@littlemiss-fanficlover , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence , @riverina69 , @itsrheasgirl , @1-800-sinister

[lynnlovesthestars]

Amygdala

Pairing: Astarion x OC (lynn, changeling.)

AN: yes again, im queueing up all i wrote lately so i wont chicken out from posting it, my therapist will like this a lot.

Genre: fluff, angst, a bit of confort?

Warning: self-harming behaviour, blood, honestly don't ask me what this is cause it was called 'welp i hate myself' and it was a 4 am blurb, healing? idk yet

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sessils

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Taglist requests.

His fangs grazed ever so slightly against Lynn’s supple neck, tracing his adam’s apple, the throbbing vein on his throat, the last spot where his fangs last bit, the smell of his blood and tangerines was driving him insane.

Lynn felt light already, and he blamed the feeling of Astarion’s cold skin burning against his, or maybe their legs intertwined so close, or the way Lynn pressed his lips to his neck with sloppy, breathy kisses that send his body in frenzy.

It was nothing more than holding each other and worshiping desperately every inch of their chest, they said.

Astarion would occasionally stop, giving Lynn time to regain his breath and stealing a moment to admire his blissed face.

There was nothing more breathtaking than his messy hair and his half closed eyes while Astarion’s blouse loosely draped his shoulder, barely staying place. A sight to keep forever.

Lynn could say the same about Astarion as his curls messily fell all over the place, his crimson eyes dilated and his mouth agape yet in a tender smile.

In those moments time stopped, the only sound was their labored breath and the quick shift of the blankets as Astarion would take the chance to lay on top of Lynn, resting his ear on the changeling’s chest to get lulled by his hearbeat.

They had yet to tell each other how deep they were in this, but in that moment words were not needed.

Astarion didn’t need any other proof as Lynn’s chest leaped everytime the vampire would turn to leave a fleeting kiss on his sternum.

He didn’t need words, or rings. All he truly needed was the warmth radiating to him, the changeling’s arms wrapped around his middle, his body shielding him from his fears.

At night when he couldn’t endure his rest, Lynn would skip his only to hold the elf.

When Astarion would get injured, Lynn would sit at his bedside, taking care of his wounds.

When Astarion felt helpless, Lynn was kneeling next to him, offering his arms and to pick up the pieces.

Lynn that promised he would be safe, did his very best to keep his promise.

Lynn who had freed him

Lynn who had healed him.

Lynn who struggled and hid it everytime.

Astarion hated just that small detail of his, the way he’d run away to hide when he was hurt.The way he’d help everyone, but when he needed help, he felt like he couldn’t ask for it.

Lynn that hurt himself rather than being seen.

And Astarion hated it.

He hated seeing him crouched in the dirt, sobbing and swearing while he had to hide behind a stupid tree.

But he never hated anything more than the sight of his dagger sinking right above his eyes, retracing an old ragged scar.

Astarion couldn’t bear to let him go on with it, to see the crimson of his blood flow down his cheek as Lynn didn’t make a sound. How often had he done this? How often had he traced that scar to ignore the pain.

Astarion didn’t waste any second from the moment he realized what was going on, he rushed to his side, taking the blade and dropping it away.

Lynn didn’t talk, didn’t look at him, didn’t do anything more than breathe and let himself fall to the side, lucky that Astarion caught him instead.

He didn’t deny, he didn’t agree, he just stared almost lifelessly in front of him as he was to tired.

Astarion didn’t know whether to scold him for being so dumb, or cry, or maybe remind him he was loved, he had someone to rely on, he didn’t have to hurt himself anymore to feel something, because Astarion would have made sure he felt always something.

Yet no word sounded appropriate.

Astarion just held him, gently tugging him in his lap, letting his head rest on his shoulder, not caring whether he would be covered in blood or not.

They just rested like that, Lynn’s fingers finally gripped on the elf’s shirt as it dawned on him- whether for the shame or for all those feeling hidden away.

And astarion just let him. He let him sob, he let him scream, he let him shiver in his arms as Astarion tried to shield him from everything, from everyone that could hurt him.

They don’t know how long they stayed away from camp, how long they had both cried, or how long they still needed, but as the sun rose and Lynn was still shaking, Astarion swore in front of the sunrise that he’d learn. He’d learn for himself, but mostly he’d learn for Lynn.

They didn’t return to camp until the following night, everyone tried to take a peak and understand what went on, but Astarion simply held him to his chest, hiding his face as he had asked, keeping him shielded just for a few more hours.

Astarion quickly dismissed Lynn’s clothes, the white blouse was probably unusable as the blood stain was dry and crusted, and then he tucked him under the warmth of the sheets.

Lynn that never asked for help, was allowing astarion to see him so broken, he was allowing him to mend his wound, he was allowing him to pick up the broken pieces, cause at last he couldn’t fight anymore.

[someonelol1872]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆𝐈𝐬𝐚𝐚𝐜, "𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞"⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝕯𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖒 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞'𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖓𝖉, 𝕾𝖚𝖓 𝖉𝖎𝖌𝖘 𝖎𝖙𝖘 𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖑𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚, 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖑𝖎𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖞𝖘, 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖞𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖒𝖊, 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 -Rises the Moon, Liana Flores

Isaac had been working tirelessly for days, his office a refuge of relentless dedication. His ebony hair was disheveled, and the dark circles under his deep brown eyes were a stark testament to his exhaustion. His normally sharp features looked gaunt and pale, with worry lines etched deeply into his forehead. Today, his body had finally given in to exhaustion and illness. You noticed the change immediately as you entered the room, your heart aching to see him in such a state.

"Isaac, you need to rest," you said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. The warmth of your touch was a stark contrast to the cold rigidity of his posture.

He shook his head, barely glancing up from his work. "I can't, Pickle. There's too much to do," he murmured, his voice strained.

Your concern deepened. You carefully pulled the papers from his hands, feeling the tension in his muscles as he reluctantly let go. "You won't be able to do anything if you don't take care of yourself," you chided gently, but with a firmness that left no room for argument.

Isaac, too weak to resist, allowed you to lead him. Each step felt like a monumental effort, his legs heavy and unsteady. You guided him to his bedroom of dark wood and soft, warm colors, the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air. You tucked him into his bed, pulling the thick, quilted covers up to his chin. The warmth of the blankets enveloped him, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled into his bones. He closed his eyes, already feeling a bit better under your care.

You hurried to the kitchen, determined to make him something nourishing. The kitchen was cozy and quiet, filled with the soft morning light filtering through the windows. You prepared his favorite gyoza, your hands deftly folding the dumplings with care. The soup simmered on the stove, a fragrant blend of chicken broth, ginger, scallions, garlic, and soy sauce filled the house, bringing a small smile to Isaac's lips even from the bedroom. You poured the steaming miso soup into a bowl, adding a dose of medicine to help with his fever.

Returning to his side with a tray, you sat on the edge of the bed. "Here, Isaac. You need to eat something," you said softly, offering him a piece of gyoza.

Isaac tried to protest, feeling too weak and embarrassed to be taken care of like this. "P-Pickle, you don't have to do all this," he murmured, his voice hoarse and his brown eyes glazed with fever.

But your gentle persistence won out. You fed him by hand, your touch tender and loving. "One more bite? For me?" you coaxed with a smile, your eyes full of concern and affection.

Reluctantly, Isaac opened his mouth for another bite, the warmth of the food bringing some color back to his cheeks. Despite his initial embarrassment, he found comfort in your presence, in the way you cared for him so devotedly. "Thank you," he whispered, feeling a swell of gratitude and affection for you.

After finishing the meal, you set the tray aside and sat beside him, stroking his hair with a soothing rhythm. Your touch was gentle, fingers threading through his ebony locks. "Just rest now," you whispered, your voice a balm to his weary soul. You leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, your lips cool yet soft against his fevered skin.

Isaac's eyes grew heavy, lulled by your tender care and the warmth of your touch. "You're too good to me," he mumbled, a faint smile on his lips as he looked at you through half-closed eyes.

You smiled back, your fingers continuing their soothing motion through his hair. "You deserve it, Isaac. Now sleep," you said softly, your voice filled with love and reassurance.

As he drifted off to sleep, Isaac felt a profound sense of peace and contentment. In your care, he felt safe, cherished, and deeply loved. He realized how much he depended on you, not just for moments like these, but for the happiness and light you brought into his life. As he slipped into slumber, he knew he would do anything to keep you by his side. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

[paninicupcakke]

Pumpkin Smash 🎃🦇

(Blunt trauma fic series)

Scout - Freddie

Medic - Conrad

(CW: grief, angst)

Luckily for the mourning doctor, a rookie Medic from another server was able to switch shifts with him after his recent incident. A Medic is no good if they waste company time continually sending themselves to respawn. A well deserved break was granted to him. Conrad still had some tedious paperwork to do but no messy lab work for today. Once done with said paperwork, he sat alone in his office. The annual BLU Halloween party would soon begin in just a few minutes. He silently sat there with a blank expression, dressed in one of the many costumes Rose had sewed for him. Conrad’s fingers slowly grazed the stitches running up his bell sleeves. His eyes shifted over to a trinket on his desk. A small porcelain figurine she had had gifted to him. Replicating one of his many pet doves. Unfortunately, he had to give many of them away during this time. He kept one of course but the care they all needed was too much to handle. Conrad slowly reached up to hold the tiny porcelain dove in his hand. Staring longingly at it before his eyes began to blind himself with tears. They flooded down his cheeks. His tear droplets had trickled onto his hand and onto the porcelain dove. Beginning to loudly weep with his head hunched over his desk. She was everywhere all the the time. It was difficult to not be reminded of her daily. His work desk was full of constant reminders. A framed photo of them both, the porcelain dove, the garments he was wearing that day. His beloved black brimmed fedora that he wore everyday. Rose had gifted it to him one day on the bus.

‘Every man needs a good hat.’

Her voice rung through his mind. Trying so desperately to mimic her exact voice and tone. Left alone with only reflections of the memory. Conrad quickly grabbed a fistful of tissues beside him and began blowing his nose and cleaning himself up. He opened one of the drawers to his desk and pulled out a compact mirror. Yet another reminder. Conrad took off his sunglasses and began cleaning up with more tissues. Placing his sunglasses back on, hoping to cover his puffy and drained eyes.

Freddie had been stood behind the doctor’s office door this whole time. Quietly listening to his colleague cry while he hung his head low in empathetic sorrow. He stood there with a warm bucket of chicken in his hands. The young man took several deep breaths before entering the doctor’s office. Pushing open the door with a wide, confident smirk.

“Party time! You hungry? Engineer just picked up all the grub for the party.” Freddie announced while eagerly walking up to the doctor’s desk. Conrad flinched slightly at his office door opening. He set the dove and compact mirror back down onto his desk, collecting himself and quickly putting back on his top hat. The Scout’s chipper demeanor and cute hat brought a small grin to the doctor’s cheeks.

“Perhaps later. I don’t want to get mein costume dirty quite yet.” Conrad replied while adjusting his sunglasses.

“C’mon doc, you can’t just live on olives and protein shakes. You gotta eat somethin’.” Freddie insisted while setting the bucket of chicken down onto a free spot on his desk. Conrad let out a small sigh, he disliked hearing the truth. Lately, eating and cooking became a chore he loathed entirely. Only eating foods that required little to no preparation.

“Fine. Only if you split a piece with me. I can’t eat all that.” Conrad replied. Freddie lit up and instantly grabbed a drumstick from the striped bucket. Eagerly taking a big bite from the deliciously fried and crispy chicken leg. Conrad snickered watching the man dressed as a chicken happily eating away at a fried drumstick.

“I’m assuming you’re a chicken?” Conrad asked raising an eyebrow. Freddie finished chewing and swallowed the tender piece in his mouth.

“Not just any chicken. I’m a cannibal chicken.” Freddie bluntly stated. Conrad let out a small chuckle. He stood up from his desk, adjusting his top hat and shirt collar.

“Nice get up. I always dig the vampire look.” Freddie complimented, eyeing the doctor up and down.

“Danke.” Conrad bashfully replied. Freddie handed the doctor the half eaten piece of chicken in his hand. Conrad quickly took off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket before taking the greasy drumstick. He took a few small bites while walking over to the door of his office. Freddie grabbed the bucket of chicken and followed after him. Both men walked out of the doctor’s office and down the hallway. The Halloween party was held outside this year, on the back porch area of the BLU base. Conrad suddenly paused his steps once at the Scout’s bedroom door. Freddie stopped also, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“You should grab a coat, it’s cold outside.” Conrad suggested. Holding his hands out to take the bucket of chicken from him while he goes to grab one. Freddie let out a sigh, handing him the bucket and quickly going into his bedroom. Grabbing the first button up coat he could find. Once lazily shoving his arms through the coat, both men continued down the hallway. All of the other BLU mercenaries were outside happily mingling. Conrad set down the bucket of chicken onto the kitchen counter nearby. Freddie went over to reach for the door handle to the back porch. Conrad had swiftly grabbed the Scout by the back of his shirt collar, stopping him in his tracks.

“Not so fast.” Conrad sternly said.

“Aw c’mon, what’s up?” Freddie asked impatiently. Conrad swiftly spun the young man to face him directly.

“You need to button this up. I don’t want you catching a cold again.” Conrad firmly said. Beginning to button up the young man’s coat closed. Freddie stood there, bashfully gazing up at the doctor’s face. Once finished, Conrad patted the Scout’s shoulder.

“There, now let’s go have some fun. Shall we?” Conrad said with a wide grin.

“Y-yeah.” Freddie shyly stuttered. Admiring the doctor’s eager expression. Fully aware that it might not last long. Appreciating it while he could. The Scout then frantically opened the backdoor and both men eagerly stepped outside. Gazing at the Halloween decor scattered all around the back porch. Hearing the soft oldies music come from their outside radio. A few of the other mercenaries glanced up at the doctor as soon as he exited the door. As if they had been waiting for him to come out. Especially Pyro and Engineer from their eager expressions. The last few Halloween’s, Conrad would have confidently walked out with his accordion in both hands. This was vastly different. He quietly gazed around at his colleague’s worried but eager expressions. He wanted nothing more then to march back inside and hide. Hit with a flush of embarrassment and shame. Conrad kept his composure and quickly walked over to one of the many tables and chairs set out. He sat down, frantically grabbing a piece of candy and unwrapping it. Desperately trying his hardest to keep a happy facade. This was it. Everyone of his colleague’s were fully aware that something was up with him. He would soon be found out in no time. Conrad anxiously chewed and finished the delicious piece of chocolate. Freddie had followed behind him along with Pyro. Both sat on each side of him. Engineer had walked over to their table as well, patting the doctor’s shoulder lightly.

“You look great doc. Here, you wanna be the designated pumpkin smasher?” Engineer asked with a kind grin. Handing the man a festive stick in orange and purple tape. It was a BLU Halloween tradition for one mercenary to smash a large pumpkin with the Red logo carved into it. Conrad was caught off guard by that question.

“I-I shouldn’t.” Conrad replied nervously. Afraid of losing his temper yet again.

“Please doc, we all took a vote and thought you might like to have a wack at it.” Engineer stated. Conrad took a deep breath, carefully taking the stick from his colleague. All three mercenaries walked alongside Conrad to the large pumpkin set up. A few other mercenaries also perked up and walked over to see the fun, mess ensue.

“C’MON DOC! BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF THAT PUMPKIN ALREADY!” Soldier loudly encouraged. Conrad chuckled slightly. Taking a step closer, slowly raising the stick up. The other mercenaries began to chime in and cheer him on. Conrad inhaled deeply before swinging the stick down and violently smashing the pumpkin open. Repeatedly beating it until it was a mushy pulp. Most of the mercenaries were cheering and hyping him up. Spy on the other hand was silent, carefully watching the doctor’s expression and movements. This was one way of getting to see the built up tension leave the suffering doctor’s being for just a moment. The Frenchman was determined to find out what was wrong with his fellow teammate. He never intended to be devious and spy on his colleague’s but he desperately felt concerned. He flicked his finished cigarette and cloaked behind the crowd of his loud teammates. The mercenaries were all preoccupied with praising the doctor. Spy had quickly vanished before everyone else had noticed. Or so he thought…

🎃

(The end! For this part…here’s some more loadouts of Freddie & Conrad :3)

[buffetlicious]

Mum only wants to eat the same tried and tested foods every time we went out but me and my trusty camera like to experience new dishes. We both love Feng Food (台湾味 “丰”) which sells Taiwan-style foods so that is a compromise.

Yeah, mum went for the same old Guan Miao Mian with Specially Marinated Pork Chop (猪排关庙面) at S$12.80+. Between this and the fried rice version, I preferred the latter as I am the “rice bucket” kind of guy. :D The pork chop is flavourful with the ginger seasoning coming through and the meat so tender and juicy.

As for me, I picked this limited Sunrise Crispy Chicken Cutlet Rice (日出鸡腿排饭). Limited as in they only have a fixed number of this S$13.80+ dish to sell each day. A big piece of boneless chicken leg fried crispy occupied one half of the bowl. The white rice is drizzled with the gravy from their braised pork and topped with an over easy egg. Coupled with two side dishes of pickled cucumbers and vegetables to complete the dish. Just from looking at it already makes your mouth waters.

[jasntodds]

Petrichor Chapter 1 Teaser

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 1,291

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, fluff

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: I wanted to post a teaser because why not honestly lol so full chapter will out next Wednesday!! I hope you guys like this little bit!! If you wanna be tagged in this series, you can send me ask, comment, or click the link below to add yourself to the tag list!! 

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Jason’s been…touchy today. The two of you have always joked and played chicken with each other. You’re always the chicken. But, today, he’s very touchy and you don’t mind but you’re wondering why that is. What changed in the month you’ve been a part that Jason is suddenly touchy? And Jason knows he’s doing it. A part of him is doing it because it’s just you. He doesn’t have to worry about overstepping his best friend anymore. You can play this game the way Jason likes to play. A little more contact, make the game of chicken a little more thrilling. And the other part of him, wants to see where it’ll actually go. For real this time, despite everything.

“But I have won because this is comfortable.” You give him a large toothy grin and Jason does that crooked smile, where he’s almost biting his bottom lip, like he’s thinking something mischievous. And you swear he’s the prettiest person you've ever met.

Jason leans forward, plucking the book off the coffee table in front of the two of you. You watch him carefully over your phone. Jason lifts his legs up, yours still on top of his, and rests his feet on the coffee table before opening the book where he has a piece of paper as a book mark. The bruise on his jaw shines against the low light, moving with his jaw as he swallows. You find yourself thinking you like the way the bruises always look on his skin. He looks perfect even with the blacks and blues and purples and reds. But, the other part of you, hates that he’s covered in bruises. He never should be.

You sit all the way up and move closer to him, placing your fingers on his jaw. Jason’s heart stutters in his chest but he lets you finish. You turn his face so you can get a look at the bruises that hug his jaw and paint his opposite eye. Your touch is so gentle and tender, Jason isn’t sure if he’d ever get used to it. It’s been so long since he’s felt this, he almost wants to jump right out of his skin. But, he doesn’t dare move because despite his better judgement, he likes when you’re like this. It’s a side of you no one else ever really get to see and it makes him feel wanted.

 “What happened?” You ask softly.

Jason is like a graphite drawing, small details in colored pencil. Messy and decorated with shades of blues and purples. But beautiful and soft. Despite the messy smudges and the accidental hard edges and hand prints, he’s so beautiful. He is this beautiful graphite masterpiece that you think should be on display everywhere. There is an effortless about him and ease about him. He pays those purple and blue splotches no mind as the corner of his mouth quirks into his signature grin. He’s so unbothered and pretty. The graphite isn’t damaged or too messy, the smudges make him…him.

“Dickweed got a few lucky hits in.” Jason scoffs and there’s a tiny bit of arrogance that flashes across his eyes. “Got ‘em back though.” Jason wiggles his brows and you brush your thumb over the bruise on his jaw line before shaking your head.

“Of course you did.” You laugh softly, pulling your hand away and Jason just almost grabs your hand back.

You knew you missed him. That was obvious every single day. A coldness came over like the first cold front of the winter. Expected but disappointing anyway. You didn’t know you missed this much. You had no idea you gave him this part of yourself and he took it back to Gotham with him. You think of the Iron Giant, how when he blew up and parts of himself went everywhere, his parts echoed, finding home. You think that’s how your heart is with him. He has a part of it, maybe without even knowing, and your heart beats and aches until you’re with him. You never realized that’s what the pain was until now, now that’s it gone.

You, instead of going back to his face, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you. The hug catches him off guard, you hug him but there’s usually some bigger reason behind it. Deathstroke, almost dying twice, leaving, meeting again. There’s usually something bigger there but Jason doesn’t get the sense that’s what this hug is for. So, he reaches up and hugs you back.

You scare him. Jason Todd is not supposed to be scared of anything and lately fear has been taking over his life. And he’s scared of you, but not in that petrifying and paralyzing way that’ll get him killed one day. He’s scared because you’ve been here before and he backed out. He pushed and ran and then you ran. You’re runners and pushers, it’s embedded so tightly through your DNA, Jason doesn’t think anything would ever stop either of you. And he’s so scared to let himself exist with you in the way he so desperately wants to. He could never handle you leaving him and he couldn’t handle hurting you. So, he pulls away, not too far, but enough to look at you.

“What’s up?” Jason asks, his eyes darting over your face and his expression is careful, desperate not to give away the ache of his chest.

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “Can’t hug you?”

“Always got a reason.” The corner of his mouth twitches up but it’s sad. If someone hugs him, even you, there’s usually a reason.

”I just missed you.” You shrug your shoulders with ease.

Jason can feel the heat creeping onto his face. “You’ve said like six fucking times today.” Jason lets out this laugh that you swear is better than any sound you’ve ever heard before. “I knew you wanted me, but fuck.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You let out a groan but you can’t get the smile to fall from your face. “Want you.” You scoff. “You’re the one who wants me.” 

The smirk dances across Jason’s face. “Babe, if I wanted you, I’d have you.”

“Yeah, okay.” You roll your eyes. “Like to see you fucking try, Jay.” You taunt and there’s nothing hold you back from it now. You aren’t a Titan right now. There’s no Gar or Rose. It’s literally just the two of you for the first time since you’ve known each other. And you see Jason pause and you’ve won. “Mhm, exactly. I win.” You hum triumphantly, leaning back against the arm of the couch and Jason doesn’t take losing gently.

If this is game you want to play, he’ll play ball. No one else is here anyway. Jason gets this darkness that crosses his eyes and you do is smile to yourself proudly, going back to looking at your phone. You’re positive, for once, he doesn’t have a come back. But, Jason sticks his finger in his book and stretches his right arm out, grabbing the collar of your hoodie and pulling you forward, bringing you an inch from his face.

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, your breath catches in the very back of your throat. You swear you can taste your heartbeat in your mouth. Your stomach flips upside down, your bones feel like they’re turning to jell-o. How the fuck does he do that? His eyes are forest green in the low light of the living room and you swears it’s your favorite color now. That specific shade of green that should be named after Jason, himself.

Jason’s eyes dart between your eyes and your lips, he’s doing it on purpose. Jason does everything with intention. Impulsive? Yes. But, he has a purpose for everything that he does. He’s careful even when he’s impulsive.

“Mhm, exactly.” Jason’s voice is low, mocking you.

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss  // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @anthemabby // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash​

[neonponders]

Part 10 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🌹

~ Part 9 + MOAR ART ~ ( pt. 7′s art 🧁)

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

The real heroes of this world are the 3am diner employees who fully ignore the teenagers making forts out of the menus on their table. There weren’t any other people in the diner aside from the waitress and cook, but they still put up a wall of menus to give their table privacy.

“He’s literally you,” Max marveled over the little Billy and Steve holding a fry up together and taking bites out of the middle.

Billy ignored her to dip his finger in the ketchup and smeared it over the end of the fry. “Try that.”

His littler self chomped on the red section of fry, and blue eyes shot wide open before closing in blissed-out chewing. With little Billy favoring one side, the skinny middle of the fry broke and little Steve realized they weren’t sharing the same piece anymore.

Nothing could have prepared Max or Billy for the sight of little Steve licking ketchup off tiny Billy’s cheek to try the flavor and then going after the fry with renewed interest.

Alarmingly similar blue eyes locked onto big Steve as he scrubbed a hand over his forehead, failing to hide as he admitted, “They do stuff like that sometimes.”

“You lick peoples’ faces, Harrington?” Billy cornered.

“I do not,” he snapped as he reached for the basket of fries. “But I’ll try anything once.”

A smile flashed on Billy’s face whereas Max’s eyelashes dropped to half-mast in annoyance.

They took a break to eat their food: Max her chicken tenders, Billy his burger, and Steve got pancakes and sausage. The latter cut tiny triangles of pancake out for the little ones when they came wandering over. Steve dipped a napkin in his water cup so they had something to wash syrup from their hands. “Here you go, lil scavengers.”

“Thank wou, Stevie,” his smaller self sang as he walked on food-drunk, wobbly legs away from the napkin. Small Billy, however, went right over to Max’s plate and ripped a chunk of breading from a chicken tender.

As he crunched loudly, she wondered, “Where do you guys put it all?”

“They’re like tiny jet engines,” Steve informed. Unconsciously, his head began to bob with the smooth synth-wave playing overhead.

On the table, little Steve began to dance; first wobbling from side to side, and then in circles before he planted his feet and mumbled to himself, “Steady steady steadwy...like Biwwy.”

Max covered her mouth with a hand, overwhelmed but it wasn’t her custom to go weak over cute things. It didn’t help when small Billy joined him, all of his movement going to his hips.

“Wow,” she giggled. “Do you dance like that too?”

“Only after a lot of wine,” he sassed.

Max continued with her honey mustard and chicken while she asked, “So what now? Just two little dudes against the world?”

Steve exclaimed, “They’re not against anybody.”

“Stevie pwotects us.”

Attention pivoted down to Billy dancing with a piece of pancake in his hand while little Steve smiled up at Max. He gave a little wave and added, “Pwetty hair!”

“Thanks,” she said guardedly, eye narrowing on small Billy approaching her plate with a raised hand.

“Morwe chicken!”

Big Steve’s eyes lolled in tired sockets. “You can say ‘please.’”

“Pwease!” little Billy barked, but he his attention diverted to the plastic tub of sauce. “Is this gwood?”

Max held the end of her last tender out to him. He ripped off another piece of breading and plunged it into the sauce. She had to laugh, because he was an open book. The zing of the honey mustard sparked on his eyes and made his cheeks go warm. “They’re kinda cool.”

Small Billy chewed with this mouth open as he scoffed, “Kinda?”

Big Steve gave the top of his head a gentle tap. “Come here. You’re gonna need a hose if you don’t clean up between bites.”

Billy scampered over to get his cleaning while his larger counterpart went to the counter to order a large coffee. When he returned, he answered Max’s silent question, “My dad will smell the diner on us. He won’t be bothered with his favorite coffee.”

“Burnt coffee,” Max commented dryly.

“Are we going to Sevwen-Elevwen?” little Steve asked.

Max replied, “We better be. These two owe me a month’s worth of snacks.”

Big Steve pointed a benign glare at her. “You’re not a snitch, Max.”

“No, but all my friends are.”

Steve and Billy exchanged annoyed glances, knowing a threat when they hear one. Dustin and his friends were harmless...mostly. They were a danger unto themselves, though.

While they went through their wallets to leave money on the table, little Steve helped smooth little Billy’s hair out of his face. Then he looked up and asked, “Big Biwwy?”

“Just Billy is fine.”

Little Steve swallowed. “Can we wide in yourw pocket for Sevwen-Elevwen? Then we’ll go home with Stevie.”

Billy huffed a small laugh, but both he and Max looked up at Steve, who’s eyes were wide as he threatened, “If you squish them or lose them, so help me god, Hargrove. Your ass is grass - ”

“You’re good at saying no,” Billy taunted, completely unbothered as he refocused on the smaller Billy and Steve. “It’s not as cozy as the expensive polos, but hop in.”

“Hell yeah!” small Billy exclaimed as they stepped onto his hand and got lifted up to his shirt pocket. His shirtfront wiggled as if they were exploring a brand new, much larger room than a pocket, but he adjusted his denim jacket over it.

Steve sighed but stacked the menus and returned them to their place behind the napkin dispenser. He kept his eyes on Billy all the way to his car, earning a rough, “Eyes on the road, Steve.”

Like a lost parent or something, Steve sank into his driver’s seat and started his car.

In the Camaro, things got loud, and not because of music.

“What’s the shiny thing on yourw hand?”

“Bwue car!”

“What’s this muswic? I like it!”

“What’s - ” gasp, “ - YOU BWEATHE FIRWE?”

“I wanna twy!”

Billy exhaled through the window and laughed softly as his cigarette hung from his fingers outside the car. “Are you always this chatty or was I not paying attention?”

“Biwwy,” little Steve called, earning a glance down at his pocket. “You smell gwood.”

“That sounds like you’re wearing Harrington out if he isn’t showering as much.”

“He washes us,” small Billy refuted. “He makes us smwell like him. You smwell good, Stevie.”

“Thank wou, Biwwy,” Steve giggled.

Larger Billy felt Max’s eyes on him like a hot lamp, and it was growing hotter. He peeked at her and found huge blue eyes on him. “Not a word, shit bird.”

“Shit birwd!” small Billy parroted from his shirt.

Billy couldn’t help but laugh. “Steve’s going to have a field day when you go back to him.”

“Max!”

She leaned forward to see little Steve holding the pocket down so he and Billy could see her. “Who are you again?”

“Stepsister,” big Billy answered quietly.

“Whats a stepsistewr?” small Billy asked with an arm hanging out of the pocket, much like larger Billy’s hanging outside of the window.

Max answered tersely, “We’re not related. We just live together.”

“Living togethwer is nice,” Steve said.

“Is Wobin Stevie’s stepsisterw?” small Billy asked.

“But she weft,” Steve’s tone fell.

“Maybe it was an accident.”

“Hmm,” Steve turned contemplative.

In the meantime, small Billy asked, “When can we swim again?”

“Harrington can give you lessons,” big Billy answered.

Max intercepted, “I think you’re missing the point.”

Billy turned into the 7-11 parking lot and warned, “You just got here. Mind your business.”

She did exactly the opposite: “They clearly like you. What’s so bad about that?”

“It’s not bad,” he heard himself defending, and felt pinned to his seat with two little faces gazing up at him.

“You don’t wike us, Biwwy?” Steve wondered.

Billy’s lips pressed together as he eased a finger into the pocket. Little Steve hugged him close and little Billy held onto Steve’s shirt. Large Billy couldn’t understand why, but feeling the warmth of their little bodies gave him a heavy wave of soothing energy. He extended another finger to rub the back of his littler self’s head.

“I like you all right, tiny Harrington. You too, Hargrove. We need to talk about your hair game, though.”

An infuriated jaw dropped and small Billy stormed as they exited the car, “I told Stevie that his stupid oiwl was doin’ weird stuff to my head!”

“The product’s fine. It smells nice and you’re soft, but do you wash it every day?”

Little Steve answered for little Billy. “We gotta, or elwse we get stinky. Hi, Stevie!”

Big Steve fast-walked over to them with a relieved grin on his face. Before he realized what he was doing, he put his hands on Billy’s torso, one hand stabilizing while the other touched the pocket. “Hey, guys. You okay?”

Two sets of tiny hands held onto him and Billy’s still in his pocket. Billy watched the same wave of relief visibly hit Steve as their hands connected.

Then he cleared his throat. “You done feeling my tits?”

Steve recoiled like he’d touched hot metal. “Sorry, I was just making sure they were okay.”

“We’wre okay!” answered the voices in the pocket.

Billy laughed softly but neither he nor Steve moved. The latter admitted, “They seem happy. You’re good with them.”

“Yeah,” Billy accepted tersely. “I’m getting demands for a swim lesson.”

The little ones peered between them until Max called from 7-11 doors, “Hello?”

Steve smiled and pivoted in the direction of the doors. “You know where I live. Whenever you’re willing, I mean - did you smoke?”

Billy flicked the finished cigarette into the trash can outside the 7-11. “I might’ve corrupted them a little.”

The small ones chimed in, “Biwwy can bweathe firwe!”

“Bet I can bweathe firwe!”

“Biwwy smewlls spicy.”

“Jesus Christ,” big Steve lamented as he held the door for Billy to stroll into the store.

[just-a-girl-who-wrytes]

@alisbackalleybbq

Thank you for your request, love! 😘

In Sickness and in Health

“Baby, wake up.” Deacon pressed his lips against your forehead.

You groaned as you woke up and noticed you were physically hot, but started shivering.

“Here, open your mouth.”

You were half asleep, but did as you were told. You felt the cool tip of a thermometer underneath of your tongue.

“Now close.”

You obeyed.

A few moments later, the thermometer beeped and you heard Deacon hum.

“Time for this, but you gotta sit up, babe.”

You cracked your eyes open and furrowed your eyebrows at your 6’2” boyfriend sitting on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Your temperature is 102, sweetheart. I’ve got you some Tylenol and Ibuprofen to help get it down and help you feel better.

You sat up in bed, slowly, to ease the wooziness that came with sitting upright. You took a sip of your gatorade to be met with what felt like razor blades in your throat.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Deacon asked tenderly when he noticed you grimace.

“It feels like I’ve got strep throat,” you said softly.

“Fallin’ to pieces on me.”

You looked at Deacon as he smirked.

Taking your medicine was excruciating, but you managed before laying back down and wrapping up and drifting off again.

Before you realized it, David was waking you up again. This time, to get you up and help you get dressed for the doctor.

“The doctor?” You asked. Your mind was fuzzy from feeling unwell and sleeping so hard.

“Yes, babe. I called and got you in to a strep test and a flu test. See if we can’t get you some antibiotics to get your throat feeling better and see why else you feel horrible.”

You smiled tiredly at him. He handed you one of his hoodies and kissed you gently on the temple. Once you were as comfortable as you could get in leggings, uggs, and your husband’s hoodie, he held out his hand to you. You smiled and took it, allowing him to guide you downstairs and out to his truck. He drove you to the doctor’s appointment, never leaving your side as you got swabbed for strep and flu, both of them coming back positive.

You were given antibiotics for the strep throat and advised for supportive care for the flu. After your appointment, Deacon drove you to the pharmacy to pick up your medicine.

As you waited in the drive through, you leaned over and kissed David’s cheek.

“I love you so much, baby. Thank you for taking of me.”

He reached his arm under your chin, holding your head to his shoulder.

“It’s what I am here for. I love you too, beautiful.”

He paid for your medicine and took you to Starbucks on your way home, ordering your favorite fall drink - spiced apple cider.

Once you arrived home, you undressed and put on one of your husband’s shirts, and snuggled up on the couch while he busied himself in the kitchen.

You laid there, watching true crime shows and noticed David hadn’t joined you yet when you noticed the smell of something cooking. You didn’t bother to lean up and look back towards your kitchen to see what he was down.

“Babe, what are you doing? I’m lonely.” You joked.

He chuckled, “Gonna die from lack of attention?”

“Yesss!” You groaned.

A few moments of silence passed before David rounded the end of the couch with a bowl.

“Well it’s a good think you haven’t been starved of attention then, huh?”

He handed you a bowl.

“Homemade chicken noodle soup for my lady.”

“Deac….”

He disappeared back to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of water, your antibiotics, and some vitamin c supplements.

“Meds please…” he said, indicating for you to take the antibiotics. You complied.

“And now eat as much as you can.” His voice was so soft and tender. “That way you don’t get sick.”

Once you finished as much soup as you could eat, you set the bowl on your end table, grabbed your blanket, and snuggled into David.

“You are too good to me, baby.”

He wrapped his arm around you and kissed your forehead.

“What was my promise to you?” He breathed into your hair, “For better or for worse, in sickness and in health.”

[eldritch-spouse]

Characters I wanna stuff in my mouth and nom nom :D

1. Morell & Shags, deadly pretty mushrooms yum yum, deep fried in batter to make tempura mushrooms

2. Belo, I feel like he would taste like chicken or any fancy bird, roasted like the Christmas turkey

3. Livius, laffy taffy man, chew him raw and pull as I bite to see how long he stretches

4. Magus, Glauk & Ivana, ssaaashimi

5. Krulu, Mother, I wonder what gods taste like

6. Zizz, I feel like he has the best texture, like cotton candy or marshmallows, just soft and pillowy and lovely to chew

7. Obie, Mervin, Cero, any way, any size, any serving, I just really like them and want them to be in me in more ways than one

(violent urge anon)p.s. I really loved the new fic you made! Scratches that itch in brain that goes aaaaAAaaAaaa

[Thank yeee, <;7]

TW: Gore; Cannibalism.

1. Make sure you fry Morell well, don't wanna get poisoned now, do you? Also, wring the ink out of Shags' cap before you do anything or you really will die of ink poisoning...;

2. Oof, just thinking about all that work plucking his wings and getting rid of the hair. Maybe remove the wings while he's alive, make him watch it;

3. With no bones on his arms and legs, you really can twist him into some elegant shapes. If you want to make any of these losers into a pretty, elegant plate- Then I'd suggest him first;

4. Magus is a squid monster, you can make aaall sorts of meals, I recommend the use of teriyaki. Glauk probably tastes very weird, he's a blend of species, I'm not even sure he'd be a good meal. They say shark meat has a hint of sweetness, maybe Ivani would make a good shark steak?;

5. I'm fairly certain eating a god would forever break your mind into complete hysteria. Your ears would ring like whistling shrieks and your eyeballs would sizzle to ash. You die with a smile on your bared teeth, consumed by madness;

6. I think Zizz would just melt on your mouth. Whether you're picturing marshmallow or the most tender of steaks, it's something so divine you almost don't want to swallow it. You'll cry as you eat, because you know your meal will be over eventually.

7. Mervin tastes like sour grapes because he's an asshole to the core. Cero is probably so bitter you'll spit him out, or die with a piece of him lodged in your throat. Obie is likely a very fulfilling, enriching meal!