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jorrated · 4 months

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Redid my Maya Knux gijinka! Now with notes and sources on how I did the design (It's kinda long, around 2k words jsyk):

The hairstyle:

Knux has pretty long spikes, so I knew I wanted to give him long hair! Braids or dreadlocks look pretty fitting, so I tried looking for references of hairstyles to see if any fit what I was looking for:

Source: Mayavase.com (Photograph by Justin Kerr)

http://research.mayavase.com/kerrmaya_hires.php?vase=1092

http://research.mayavase.com/kerrmaya_hires.php?vase=1453

http://research.mayavase.com/kerrmaya_hires.php?vase=694

http://research.mayavase.com/kerrmaya_hires.php?vase=1340

While all the vases show a variety of interesting hairstyles, I particularly loved the look of the braids in K694 (the third picture). Being tied upwards wouldn’t really fit Knux however, so something like the man in K1340 (fourth pic) with his hair fully down, or the 5th man from left to right in K1092 (first pic) with a cloth holding the hair would be really nice!

I didn’t want to give him a headpiece, if only to not clutter his head, but also I didn’t think it’d fit Knux as a warrior. The ruler’s headpiece in K1453 (second pic) however allows the hair to come off it, and seems to have some dangly adornments on the end of the strands/braids/locks, which I found super pretty. Plus:

“Elite Mayan men and women styled their hair to show off their pointed heads, crafted through the careful head flattening they experienced as children. Women gathered their long hair on top of their heads in flowing ponytails. For special occasions they braided their ponytails and decorated them with ornaments and ribbons. Mayan men grew their hair long but burnt the hair off their foreheads to accentuate their elongated profiles. They would bind their hair into one or many ponytails or tie it in a bundle on top of their head. Mayan slaves had their hair cut short as one visible mark of their inferior status.” p.399

Source: Fashion, costume, and culture: clothing, headwear, body decorations, and footwear through the ages (Sarah Pendergast and Tom Pendergast, Sarah Hermsen as Project Editor), 2003.

https://archive.org/details/fashioncostumecu0000pend/page/n5/mode/2up

Taking all of that! I settled on tight braids with a few adornments made of jade and wood, with a red cloth to keep his hair from his eyes. Almost all of the braids are pulled together into a ponytails, but there are some smaller braids loose.

It’s somewhat of a mixture of styles, combining ornaments of special occasions, with the long hair of elites on a character like Knux. But I kept these ‘contradictory’ aspects of the design to remember that Knux kinda learns about his ancestors on the go, through murals, writings and technology, so I doubt he’d have a great grasp on what he should and shouldn’t wear. I think it adds character as someone who’s trying to figure out himself, his history and his place in the world.

Shoes and Accessories:

For footwear I kept it simple, just turned Knux’s existing shoes into sandals:

“Ancient Aztecs and Mayans of Central America adopted a thick-soled sandal with a protective legging attached at the heel, while the top of the foot and shin remained exposed.” p.135

Source: Encyclopedia of Clothing and Fashion (Valerie Steele), 2005

Although my gut instinct was to cover Knuckles from head to toe in accessories, I also tried to keep it simple like the shoes. He’s a very mobile fellow so he can’t have too much weight or annoying bits flying everywhere and getting in his face. So I kept his moon necklace, like in Fleetway, just adjusted the shape to have a bit more of details:

“The jewelry worn by the Mayan, Aztec and Inca people was rich in variety and quite beautiful. Without metalworking skills, Mayans made jewelry from many materials. Mayan men wore nose ornaments, earplugs and lip plugs made from bone, wood, shells and stones, including jade, topaz, and obsidian. Necklaces, bracelets, anklets and headgear were made with jaguar and crocodile teeth, jaguar claws and feathers.” p.402

Source: Fashion, costume, and culture: clothing, headwear, body decorations, and footwear through the ages (Sarah Pendergast and Tom Pendergast, Sarah Hermsen as Project Editor), 2003.

https://archive.org/details/fashioncostumecu0000pend/page/n5/mode/2up

As stated here, Mayans didn’t have metalwork, so I imagine this is an artifact that his ancestors got from another group of people.

Just a page before they also mention how the Maya people used to file points into their teeth, to make their mouths more appealing. This includes shaping them into pointy teeth, (like the classic shark teeth), but they could also file them into other shapes, like in this picture:

Source: https://www.archaeologynow.org/blog-3/blog-post-title-two-txwxl (I’m pretty sure this isn’t the source of the image, but I couldn’t find an actual source that wasn’t an uncredited blog)

The Maya people are also notorious for their good dentistry, as seen the stone ornaments in the teeth above. I think the filling is something Knux could do on his own, but anything that would involve actual dentistry would be too much. But it’s still interesting to read about!

(Here’s an article named “Mayan Esthetic Dentistry: Using Modern Techniques and Digital Imaging Technologies to Link the Past to the Present” by Yassine Harichane if you want to learn more!)

While a non-permanent version of stones on teeth seemed cool, like Jade incisor-coverings, at the end of the day I don’t think Knuckles is too vain, so I didn’t add that to the design. Although I think he’d definitely try out a bunch of things like this, just to try to understand them.

For additional outfits I gave him a red layered cape and a green huipil! The red cape is just to bring back more red into the design, since I gave him a lot of green. And the huipil is a nod to his poncho in the comics! (Although huipiles are commonly associated with women and girls, I still wanted to give him one, not only to bring up his partial detachment to his ancestors, but also because Knux probably wouldn’t think much about gender in general let’s be honest)

Source: Mayavase.com (Photograph by Justin Kerr)

http://research.mayavase.com/kerrmaya_hires.php?vase=638

Somewhat based the red cape on the 4th man in this picture, from left to right, but I kept it simple, as maybe just some fabric Knux found around the island, nothing too fancy.

For the huipil I wanted to do something more detailed but was having a really hard time coming up with designs. And I didn’t want to straight up plagiarize someone’s else work, so I kept it vague, maybe some day I’ll sit down and give it a more detailed version. I did come across a very nice store/ catalog that sells traditional Maya textiles, and this one was very gorgeous! Highly recommend give this and the other textiles a look!

In the end I made the huipil look vaguely like the ones shown in page 128 of the following book:

“In the Museum collection, costumes that looked very much alike usually turned out to be from villages that shared a language. Among Cakchiquel villages, dialect differences were usually mirrored by costume differences. Working on this principle we were surprised by the striking similarity of style in the huipils of San Antonio Aguas Calientes (fig. 195) and San Martín Jilotepeque (fig. 196). These villages, while both Cakchiquel, spoke very different dialects and were separated geographically (map, below). The similarity of their huipil was so remarkable we felt the need to investigate these two villages more thoroughly and found that a multi-cultural history probably accounted for these unexpected similarities of style. Huipils from these villages may well illustrate the earliest examples of pan-Maya acculturation after the Conquest.”p. 127

Source: Threads of identity: Maya costume of the 1960s in highland Guatemala (Patricia B. Altman, Caroline D.West), 1992.

https://archive.org/details/threadsofidentit0000altm/page/n7/mode/2up

Lastly on accessories, which I don’t know if it counts as an accessory but I didn’t know where to put it: the body paint. Last time I gave Knux a human design I couldn't find a good resource on Maya people painting their bodies. Every source mentioned and was in consensus that some of the people did paint their bodies, but that was the extent of the info. I wasn’t able to find any patterns or meanings of the body paintings, or even good visual reference for it. But! This time I was able to get a bit more:

“Body painting was a common Maya practice. Classic Period murals and polychrome vases depict warriors covered with red or black paint; sometimes their bodies were striped with red paint. Paint was also used around the eyes and nose to give a fierce expression. In the 16th century, these practices continued. Women also applied red paint to their faces and bodies, but presumably to make themselves look beautiful, not fierce. Small paint jars of red hematite mixed with mica were found in the houses at Cerén, and these may have been for cosmetic use. Unmarried young men painted their bodies black, and so did those who were undergoing periods of ritual purification and fasting. Priests often wore blue body paint. “p. 338

Source: Handbook To Life In The Ancient Maya World Lynn (V. Foster), 2002.

Source: Mayavase.com (Photograph by Justin Kerr)

http://research.mayavase.com/kerrmaya_hires.php?vase=2800

http://research.mayavase.com/kerrmaya_hires.php?vase=2573

http://research.mayavase.com/kerrmaya_hires.php?vase=7996

I of course wanted to give him red paint, and I really liked this design of the red lining the cheeks on the face down to the neckline. However in most of these depictions the red on the body is accompanied by the white face, which I can’t actually tell if the face has white paint, or the body has black paint, like described in the quote before. Either way I chose to only use the red, to keep in line with Knux’s original design.

(It’s worth mentioning that these vases shown depict rulers, as you can see the intricate thrones and altars, which isn’t really fitting with Knux. But again, I want to keep some mismatched aspects into his design, not only warrior-related things.)

The main outfit:

Last but not least, the main outfit. Don’t have much notes on this I’m going to be honest, I just tried to keep in line with descriptions of warriors clothing:

“While some warriors may have been resplendent on the battlefield, the common Maya soldier fought with little clothing other than loincloth and body paint, based on battle scenes in the few Maya murals that remain (see figure 2.9, page 54).” p.147

Source: Handbook To Life In The Ancient Maya World Lynn (V. Foster), 2002.

I considered putting him in a loincloth for accuracy, but tbh I was scared people were going to be weird about it, and so I gave him a skirt with some fabric that emulates the look of a loincloth and some scrap fabric around his waist and limbs! He actually ended pulling up a lot from the dude I mentioned in vase K1092 (the very first ref pic in this post) lol!

And that´s all, hope y’all liked it :P

#jo.art #sonic the comic #knuckles the echidna #gijinka

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hisui-dreamer · 9 months

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his cleaner shrimp

Pairing: Floyd Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: you had only meant to help him once, but he attached himself to you straight away

Tags: fluff, comfort, humour(?), Floyd calls you shrimpy, mentions of blood, Floyd and Jade fought, bot proofread

Word count: 1.5k+

Notes: more floyd fluff! this fic was originally angst can u believe it anyways i was inspired to do a classic shoujo manga scene hehe

Masterlist

'I did nothin' wrong!' Floyd thought to himself.

In the shadowed back alley, Floyd sat curled up against the wall, his emotions roiling like a stormy sea after a heated confrontation with Jade. Anger still boiled within him, but the sting of his injuries dampened his spirit.

His left cheek was swollen and discolored, a vivid shade of purple and blue, with a raw, angry red spot where Jade's knuckles had landed with force. A small cut near his eyebrow oozed blood, giving his face a gritty and battle-worn appearance. His knuckles were bruised and bloodied as well, the skin was broken in places from the forceful punches he had thrown.

He nursed his wounded pride, nursing his bruised ego, and found solace in the alleyway alone, away from prying eyes. If anyone had dared to even look at him funny, they would be met with a fierce glare from his mismatched eyes, as if daring them to challenge him to a second fight.

But it seemed his glare wasn't intimidating enough, as your shadow started approaching him, prompting him to look up from the floor. You were a small thing in Floyd's eyes, not the best target for a fight, and definitely easy to throw around.

'Pshh... Just small fry...' he thought as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Uhh, hey there," you said hesitantly, holding out a plastic bag Floyd could only assume contained first aid supplies from the red symbols. "I couldn't help but notice you're hurt. Your injuries might get infected if you leave them untreated."

Floyd's initial gruffness wavered slightly as he glanced at you, surprised by your concern. But he didn't want anyone's pity or help, especially not from a stranger. "I don't need any help from small fry like you," he retorted, trying to sound tough and dismissive. "I'm not that weak."

Still, you continued taking steps closer, kneeling down next to him to stare directly into his eyes. "Even strong people can get infections, you know," you said, a wry smile playing on your lips. "It'll hurt more then, so it's better to have it treated now."

Floyd hesitated, torn between his pride and the growing realization that he did need help. Perhaps it was the adrenaline passing, but he could feel his bloodied hand throbbing in sharp pain. He cast a hesitant glance in your direction, taking in the softness and understanding in your face. In that moment, he decided to let his guard down, just for a little bit.

"Fine, whatever," he mumbled, begrudgingly extending his injured hand toward you.

Your touch was gentle and sure, and as you cleaned the wounds and applied antiseptic, you made sure to warn him of the incoming sting, though he seemed unaffected by it all. Despite his efforts to stay aloof, Floyd found himself feeling strangely comforted by your presence. As you continued to patch him up, he felt a warmth spreading through his body, a soft and fuzzy feeling that he couldn't explain. He wondered if that was the infection you had warned him about, but it didn't feel bad or painful; instead, it felt like a balm for his tired soul.

With your curiosity getting the better of you, you couldn't help but ask about the cause of the fight.

"So, what happened?"

Floyd looked at you, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, he hesitated. However, the trust he had found in your compassion made him open up.

"Shrimpy's curious, huh..." he replied with a small smile. "Okay, I'll tell ya, but only cuz you're Shrimpy."

You blinked at the peculiar nickname, amused and intrigued. "Shrimpy? Is that... me?"

He nodded happily, a hint of mischief in his eyes. You couldn't help but smile wryly at the odd choice of nickname.

"I had a fight with my brother," Floyd finally admitted, his smile fading into a pout.

"It's Jade's fault!" he yelled, his frustration evident in his voice. "He kept using those weird ingredients in his cooking, even though I hate 'em! I kept tellin' him, but he didn't even listen."

He paused, his voice turning quieter as he continued, "So I broke one of his terrariums to make him stop, but he got really angry..."

You listened attentively, humming as you carefully cleaned the wound on his face. "And so you two fought... I understand how that could be frustrating," you said softly. "You know, cooking takes a lot of time and effort... I'm sure your brother just wanted you to enjoy it like he does."

Floyd glanced at you, his mismatched eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. He couldn't ignore the gut feeling that maybe you were right.

"Yeah, maybe he did," he conceded, a hint of contemplation in his voice. "But it's still annoying he doesn't listen to me."

You nodded, understanding his frustrations. "Of course, it's not nice that Jade disregarded your feelings," you replied gently. "But you should respect his feelings too. Breaking his terrarium wasn't the right way to handle it."

Your words struck a chord with Floyd, and he felt a pang of remorse for his impulsive actions. He knew better than anyone else how much time and effort Jade devoted to caring for his cherished terrariums, often staying up late into the night to tend to them.

"Aww man... Shrimpy's right," he muttered, feeling the weight of his mistake. "Jeez, what do I do now?"

You offered a reassuring smile, glad that his anger had dissipated. "It's never too late to make things right. The best place to start is always an apology," you suggested. "There, all done," you murmured as you finished placing an island dressing bandage on his face, a smile forming on your face at the job well done.

Floyd, meanwhile, stared at you in a daze, your close proximity allowing him to notice all the little details on your face. He felt his cheeks warm as a gentle affection slowly bubbled inside him. Your genuine care and gentle touch had triggered something deep within him, and he found himself feeling drawn to your presence.

"Floyd!" a familiar voice broke him out of his daze. "There you are!"

Jade stood at the front of the alley, slightly panting as if he had been rushing around. You nudged Floyd gently, having recognized that the man must be his brother, and gave him a reassuring nod.

Floyd glanced at his brother, momentarily torn between his pride and guilt. But he took a deep breath and stepped forward, his voice steady as he said, "Jade, sorry... I shouldn't have broken your terrarium, and it was wrong..." He confessed. "But I don't want to eat any of those weird things again!" he exclaimed with a pout.

Jade's initial surprise gave way to a soft smile, appreciating Floyd's rare willingness to apologize and make amends.

"I understand, Floyd," Jade replied, his tone more understanding now. "And I apologise as well. I should have listened to you and respected your preferences."

Floyd's pout softened as he realized that his brother was willing to meet him halfway. "Really?" he asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

Jade nodded. "Yes, really. Though I do not wish to, I will stop using mushrooms for your meals."

"Wait..." you blurted, turning to look at Floyd. "This whole time, the weird ingredients you've been talking about are mushrooms?"

At he nodded furiously, your incredulous expression only intensified. "But mushrooms are so delicious! Why would you hate them?"

Before Floyd could even start to complain, Jade approached you and clasped both of you hands, his eyes alit with surprise and excitement. "I'm delighted to meet a fellow mushroom lover! Would you like to join me on a mushroom foraging trip in the mountains?"

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. As you tried to muster up a response, a pair of strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you backward to meet his sturdy chest. It was Floyd, and you could feel his warmth and presence enveloping you, his chin resting on top of your head, his hair tickling your forehead.

"No way! Go get your own Shrimpy! This one's mine!" Floyd exclaimed, his arms tightening around you possessively to prove his point.

Jade's lips spread into a wide smile, his sharp teeth showing playfully. "Now now, Floyd, I do believe you've broken a precious terrarium of mine," he hummed as he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It's only fair that you give me something for reparations."

"Nuh-uh! As if I'd let you steal my Shrimpy!" Floyd said. In a fluid motion, he picked you up and started running off with you, while you scrambled to hold on tight to him.

You couldn't help but squeal as the unexpected playfulness unfolded. "W-wait! Floyd! Put me down!"

"Nope! You're my cleaner Shrimpy now! I'm not lettin' you go!" Floyd declared, his voice lighthearted and full of joy.

Maybe you should have been more concerned by his words, but you found yourself so captivated by his joyful and innocent laugh, that you couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles with him.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#for anyone who doesn't know #moray eels have symbiotic relationships with shrimps #so they'll have a cleaner shrimp that'll clean their teeth #while the eels protect them #so i was inspired by that haha #twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland floyd #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

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hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind.

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup.

“Please, stop apologizing.”

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses.

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...”

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.”

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.”

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.”

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?”

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks.

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.”

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.”

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat.

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.”

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.”

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically.

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box.

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap.

Says Spencer Reid?

“...sorry?”

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself.

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.”

He swallows and nods.

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.”

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.”

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.”

But you're not crying because he was nice.

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear.

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks.

“I meant every word.”

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say.

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.”

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending.

“Had?”

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart.

“Yeah. You know what changed?”

“What’s that?”

Absolutely nothing.

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.”

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes.

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?”

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.”

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?”

You sniff, looking to the ceiling.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.”

More silence.

“But you don’t believe it.”

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.”

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head.

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?”

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him.

“What?”

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks.

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.”

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.”

“That’s... that’s not how I know.”

Your heart drops as you study his face.

No.

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying.

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be.

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”

“What are you doing? Don’t--”

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks.

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—”

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?”

With nothing left to give, you turn to him.

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.”

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks.

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.”

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible.

“You... you like me?”

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—”

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—”

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.”

“You said you used to like me, past tense—”

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?”

“No, but—”

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?”

“Of course I have.”

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?”

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks.

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.”

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is.

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face.

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.”

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes.

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.”

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine.

“I do.”

“Will you kiss me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway.

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to.

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?”

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing.

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.”

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again.

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought.

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes.

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!”

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.”

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.”

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.”

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention.

“Spencer?”

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought.

“What does pulchritude mean?”

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair.

“Don’t worry about it.”

And so you let it float away.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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oepionie · 1 year

Text

—"🍳KITCHEN BLUES"various

💭masterlist | 💬ao3 link

sypnosis: you wouldn't really call yourself a chef. at most, your culinary abilities were barely above average. even so, when your boyfriend becomes overworked, you take your chances and cook something up for him. here's to hoping you don't burn down the entire dorm!

⊹ [ cw ] — slight mentions of injuries, ramshackle's oven is set on fire◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFF.GN! READER | protective jade, lighthearted mentions of marriage in ruggie's part, leona's back muscles whsg, jamil calls you قلبي 'Albi' (My Heart)◞

⊹ [ character/s ] — trey, leona, ruggie, jade, & jamil

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.5k+◞

You stare blankly at the ingredients set out before you. The words on the recipe you printed seemed to blur together. Rice noodles, honey, smoked paprika, roasted almonds—you had your job cut out for you, huh?

You turn to face your partner who was dozing off on the rickety couch at Ramshackle, a thin blanket haphazardly thrown atop his body. He looked to be in deep sleep, not minding the worn-out scratchy leather texture of the couch one bit.

Tensed shoulders and fatigue laced his muscles; both evidence of the strain he's been putting on himself as of late. With an ache in your heart, you return your focus to the sizzling pan. Making him lunch was the least you could do to help.

Halfway through preparing the bento, you heard the old couch creak. Your boyfriend finally wakes, he calls for you with bleary eyes and a hoarse voice.

"Prefect?"

✩— TREY CLOVER:

"Oh, you're awake?" You rush over to him, dropping the lunch box onto the counter. Concern laced your features as you pressed a palm against his flushed forehead. Trey sat up, the blanket slipping off his torso and pooling around his hips.

"Mhm. Is something wrong?" Trey chuckled, resting his forehead on your shoulder.

"Yeah. This fever of yours is worrying me." You grumbled as you reached for his glasses on the adjoining coffee table. You slipped it onto him and gave him a quick kiss on the nose.

"The unbirthday party is coming up, and you know I have to work extra hard." Trey sighed, rolling his stiff shoulders. Nodding, you silently slipped back into the kitchen to retrieve the bento box. Once you returned, you handed it over to him.

"I know, but I hope you still take the time to rest every now and again." Trey tucked the box under his arm and drew you into a hug. You melted into his embrace, savouring the warmth you'd been missing these past few weeks. He's been so busy that the only affection you've received from him was the ocassional peck on the cheek.

Ten seconds into your little respite from the world, Trey pushed you away with a hand on your shoulder. He sniffed the air, brows pinched.

"Is something on fire?"

"Sevens-! The tarts!"

You clutch a plate of charred black tarts in your hands, head bowed down in shame. Trey chuckled and took a piece of the inedible lump, turning it around in his hand.

"This reminds me of Lillia's cooking."

"You're not helping!"

✩— LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Leona sat on the couch, tail swishing lazily in the air while he watched you work around the kitchen. His emerald gaze swept over your apron-clad body, noticing the honey smeared on your cheek.

Once you finished, you walked over to him with the meal on a tray.

"How was the spelldrive training with the freshmen?" You asked, taking a seat on the floor beside him. He raised his arm to use his elbow to remove the honey off your cheek.

"It was shit." Growling, Leona pushed himself off the couch. He stretched his arms, groaning as his muscles ached from the burn. He was turned away from you, giving you full view of his back muscles straining against the fabric of the tight black shirt he had on; you averted your eyes, suddenly feeling very warm.

"See anything you like?" He grinned and flexed his arms. You squeaked and jumped back, embarrassment written all over your face. "Leona!"

He chuckled as he pulled you off the floor and onto the couch next to him.

"A-Anyways…Epel told me you stormed out in the middle of the game?" You stammered, avoiding his gaze and changing the subject. You scooped some food from the containter and fed it to him. Leona took the spoon in his mouth, chewing it throughly.

"Damn right. None of those idiots could fly straight if their life depended on it." Leona scoffed. You lifted the tray up so he could slip his head onto your lap, face tucked into your stomach.

"I see. I guess they couldn't keep up with you, huh?" You mused, running your hands through his hair whilst feeding him a bite of food.

The flavours and spices melted across his mouth, each ingredient flawlessly blending together. Leona relaxed against your form, satisfied, your food and pampering making him feel like a king.

"Who can?"

✩— RUGGIE BUCCHI:

"Is that food?" Ruggie piped up, wrapping himself in the thin blanket. He was shaped like a taco roll, with only his head sticking out from under the cover. You chuckled and nodded, taking the food you prepared into your arms.

As you brought out a platter of doughnuts along with the bento box, his tail began to wag. You approached him carefully, taking care not to drop the stacks of chocolate doughnuts. Unbeknownst to you, Ruggie was debating whether or not to marry you on the spot.

"Of course. You just looked so exhausted yesterday, I wanted to help." You said, frowning and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Ruggie gulped, his cheeks flushing at your sweet gesture.

"What did I say about slowing down every now and then?" You grumbled, frowning at him.

"W-Well, I kinda lost track yesterday; I swear I won't do it again," Ruggie replied sheepishly, folding his arms behind his head. In truth, you were kinda right. His limbs were killing him with how sore they were right now.

"You better! I can't keep scolding you about this again and again!" You shook your head and sighed. After giving him the platter of doughnuts, you began slipping off the apron you were wearing.

"Shishishi. You sound like a worried spouse." Ruggie snickered, shoving two doughnuts into his mouth. You dropped the apron in your hand, eyes wide at the implications of what Ruggie just said. Snorting at your flustered state, he continued teasing you.

"Spare me! I'm sure you'll have plenty of time in the future to scold me." Ruggie's voice suddenly lowered to a whisper, the playful edge to it gone. "I should prolly start putting off money up for a ring now…"

"Wh-What?!"

✩— JADE LEECH:

"What might this be?" Jade appeared behind you, his towering form pressing itself against your back. An arm wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him. His hair remained dishevelled and out of place, his physique still sluggish and lethargic. Jade, contrary to popular belief, was not a morning person.

"It's just a simple little bento I'm preparing…Azul told me you skipped out on dinner last night so I um-" Feeling flushed under his intense yet drowsy gaze, you struggled to finish your sentence. "…decided to cook something up for you."

Jade hums, grasping your hands in his own. He instantly pauses as he feels the texture of scratchy woven fabric beneath his skin. The eel looked down to see your hands covered with sloppily placed bandages and bandaids.

He stared down at your damaged hands for a minute, an unsettling smile creeping up his face.

"Who did this." Jade stated firmly, a dark, pointed expression on his face. His fingers rubbed soothing circles over your palm, patiently waiting for your response. "I need names, my pearl."

You fiddled with one of the bandages wrapped around your finger.

"No one did this. I'm just not really the best person to put near a kitchen knife or a pan with boiling oil." You laughed sheepishly, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Jade chuckled alongside you. All previous apprehension from him seemed to fade away.

"I see. I appreciate the gesture however I wish you were more careful." Jade leaned down next to your ear, his voice dropping to a low whisper.

"Allow me to take care of you first, these bandages are in dire need of a change."

✩— JAMIL VIPER:

"Albi?" Jamil groaned, raising his arms to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. He sat up and instantly regretted his decision when his head started spinning; he could already feel the start of a migraine. You rushed over and shushed him, pushing him to sit back down on the couch.

"Are you okay?" Frowning, you plopped the box open and scooped up some food for him to eat. Jamil leaned forward to take it into his mouth, humming at the taste.

Yesterday's events began to resurface in his mind. He was given a potionology assignment to complete alongside Kalim.

Everything was going smoothly until Kalim made the decision to add some sugar to the cauldron for unknown reasons. The cauldron exploded and Jamil ended up getting hit with the fumes, breathing it in. Which was probably the reason why his head felt like it was being split open.

"A bit. If my memory serves me well, the effects of this potion should wear off in a few hours." He mumbled, allowing himself to get fed by and spoiled by you. You smiled and reached for a napkin to wipe down the corners of his lips. "That's good. Is the food to your liking?"

"It tastes great." Jamil compliments, taking the box into his own hands. "Thank you for looking after me; is there anything you want me to make for you?"

"That curry you gave me the other day! It tasted so good!"

"Of course." Jamil smiled at you. Regardless of the numerous hijinks he has to deal with as Kalim's retainer and Scarabia's vice dorm leader, you've always been an anchor of support for him; holding him firm when everything appears to be sweeping him away.

A/N: This was a request! Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

Text

The Road to Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 3,008

Summary: You work at the local bar and things are usally pretty boring and quiet until you get a new customer who appears to be a grump but when it comes to you it’s a whole different story...

Author’s Note: So Pedro’s new Esquire shoot nearly killed me but also inspired me and thanks to my lovely friends @beccablogsthings @laineyreads @justkinsey for sharing their amazing brains and thoughts I did my first AU with Joel. And thank you to my sweet Ali @flordeamatista for sharing some extra goodies with me to help! This one photo belong just screamed Biker AU, between the tight pants and leather jacket...I mean🥵Anyway, enough of my rambling! Thank you all so much for reading! Much lovel always! ❤️❤️❤️ Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweets🥰

Warnings: softness and fluff, lots of flirting and protective!Joel

Thanks to Esquire for the photo below:

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Why are biker dudes always so grumpy?”

You turn to your friend Jade and it takes you a moment to realize why she made her comment. You follow her line of sight to the small group of bikers that are playing pool at the back end of the bar.

“They look like they’re having fun,” you reply.

“Not that guy,” Jade says, discreetly motioning to the one sitting on the last stool closest to the pool tables.

His legs are spread wide under the bar top, his jeans clinging to his thick thighs like a second skin and his heavy black leather boots resting on the stool’s bottom bar. The leather jacket he’s wearing is tight along his broad shoulders and worn and soft looking in all the right places.

You don’t answer her and keep your eyes on him, unabashedly letting your gaze wander down his body and back up again.

When you reach his face he’s staring back.

And he smirks.

“Ok never mind,” Jade giggles. “He smiles but apparently only at you.”

You give him a small wave and smile before turning to your friend. “What?”

“Exactly,” she answers with a grin. “Do you know him?”

“Oh she knows him,” you other friend Dan sings as he whizzes by, precariously balancing several drinks in his hands.

“Who?” you ask, still lost in your haze of lewd thoughts.

“The biker dude…the one that only smiles at you,” Jade repeats. “Dan says you know him.”

“Dan…?”

Dan runs by again. “You know…your biker boyfriend that’s been coming in every weekend for the last month. Poor Jade has been missing out on all the fun because she usually works weeknights.”

Dan’s gone again before you can add that the hot biker is not your boyfriend. Unfortunately.

“Oh,” you exclaim as you move down the bar and grab empty glasses. “That’s Joel…and he’s not a dude. That, my friends, is a man.”

“Mm you’re right,” Jade agrees, grinning harder. “And you clearly have the hots for him.”

“What?” you say again, the empty beer mugs clanking in your hands.

“She so does,” Dan says, blowing you a kiss before he starts helping a customer.

“Is it possible for you to form a coherent thought when he’s in the same room?” Jade teases.

You huff and blow a raspberry in her direction. “It’s Dan’s fault. He keeps doing fly bys!”

Both you and Jade cover your mouths to stifle your giggles and Dan looks over with his own mischievous smile.

After cleaning up the bar and collecting any stray tips you slide up next to Jade as she fills some mugs.

“I think the biker dudes,” and you laugh after saying it, “need some refills.”

“Great, that’s all you babe,” she says. “I have to see this.”

You roll your eyes and saunter over to the pool tables, making your rounds and asking who wants what. When you reach Joel he leans back on his stool, one large hand still curled around his glass of whiskey and the other now resting on his thigh.

“Hey sunshine,” he says.

“Hi Joel. Can I get you another?”

Your eyes slide to his empty glass before settling back on his face. He studies you, his eyes glittering.

“How much longer is your shift?” he asks.

“Another hour or so,” you answer, raising your brows at his seemingly random question.

“Then I’ll have another,” he says, nodding his head in thanks.

You reach for his empty glass, your fingers brushing along his rough knuckles and you suck in a breath at the sensation, your lips parted when you catch his knowing smile.

You hurry off and try to brush past Jade but she follows you all the way down the bar with Dan in tow.

“He’s still smiling,” she says with glee.

“HE IS!” Dan squeals.

“Is he?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Yep,” Jade replies, popping the p.

With a new glass of whiskey you walk back to Joel, trying to ignore the feel of your friends eyes on your back and their distant chatter.

“Here you go, anything else?” you ask him.

“Thanks sunshine,” he says, eyeing you over the rim of his glass as he takes a long sip.

His neck muscles flex with every swallow and you watch the chords shift as he tilts his head back, finishing it in one long gulp.

“I’ll take one more,” he winks and licks his lips.

“You got it,” you breathe out and practically run off, forgetting to take his empty glass.

After serving Joel his third drink you check on the other guys before making the rest of your rounds. Once everyone has a drink in hand you start to wipe down the bar.

“We need some music,” Jade says when she starts to help.

Dan agrees with enthusiasm and you say, “good idea. I’ll be right back.”

You walk toward the old Juke Box and start to shuffle through the songs.

Just when you think you’ve decided on a song you feel a presence behind you and turn to see your ex smiling at you.

“Jeff?”

“Hey baby,” he croons, reaching for you.

You step out of his grasp and put some distance between the two of you.

He makes a face, his expression losing it’s smile and turning hard.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone mocking.

“What are you doing here?” you ask him, taking a step back for every step he takes toward you.

“Came to see you,” he drawls. “Missed you.”

“Jeff,” you warn. “It’s over. It’s been over. You need to leave.”

You don’t even notice that the bar’s gone quiet and everyone is watching the scene unfold. Jade and Dan rush out from behind the bar to go to you but Joel stands from his seat and motions for them to stay put.

Jeff reaches for you again, this time wrapping his large hand around your arm and yanking you closer.

“Don’t embarrass me baby,” he growls.

“Get your hands off of me,” you hiss, trying to pull away.

“You heard her,” a gruff voice says from bedside you. “Hands off.”

You turn to see Joel standing next to you, his expression cold and hard as he stares at Jeff.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jeff asks, looking Joel up and down.

“Doesn’t matter,” Joel answers, folding his large arms across his chest. “She doesn’t want you touchin’ her. Now get your hands off her before I break ‘em.”

Jeff’s grip loosens with his surprise and you rip yourself away.

Joel eyes shift to you. “You ok darlin’?”

You nod and take a step toward Joel.

“This your new man?” Jeff snarls as he clenches his fists.

“That’s none of your business,” Joel answers for you. “Now get out.”

Without warning Jeff lunges at Joel but he’s not quick enough and before you can even figure out what happened, Jeff is laid out on the floor, holding his jaw and muttering curses. The rest of the bikers are now standing behind Joel, their expressions menacing as Joel bends down and gets into Jeff’s face.

“She doesn’t want you anymore. And when a lady tells you to get your hands off, you get your hands off…you understand me?”

Jeff just stares at Joel with hatred, his teeth gritted.

“I asked you a question,” Joel growls.

Jeff’s eyes move to the rest of the bikers and he sits up, spitting on the floor.

“Yea, I heard ya,” he grunts. “She ain’t worth it anyway.”

Jeff jumps to his feet and gives you one last disgusted look before striding out of the bar. Joel goes to follow him but you grab his hand, stopping him in his tracks.

His face softens and he closes his fingers around yours.

“You sure you’re ok?” he asks again.

“Where are you going?”

“He can’t talk to you like that,” Joel grits out, taking a step away.

“Please,” you say quietly. “He’s the one that’s not worth it.”

Joel studies you for a long moment, his gaze intense and when he sees your eyes start to water he tilts his head in understanding and gently wraps an arm around your waist.

“Alright sunshine. I won’t. But if I ever see him come near you again…”

“I give you permission to totally kick his ass,” you say, trying to hide your face as you wipe away a stray tear.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, pulling you away from the Juke box toward a more secluded spot. “It’s ok darlin. He didn’t hurt you did he?”

Joel glances at your arm but thankfully there are no marks where Jeff grabbed you.

“No, just scared me more than anything.”

“Ok then,” Joel says softly. “You ok to finish your shift?”

“Yea definitely. It’s a good distraction.”

Joel smiles and you lean into him, the smell of spice and leather enveloping your senses, and kiss his scruffy cheek.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime sunshine,” he says with a wink.

Once Dan and Jade are convinced you’re ok they both start swooning over how Joel stepped in and punched Jeff.

“I wish I could have seen it,” you say almost dreamily. “I was just so stunned by it all it never even registered.”

“Well, I saw it,” Dan says, “and let me tell you…it was HOT.”

You see Jade glance behind you and your eyes go wide.

“Will you two quit it! He’s going to think I’m crazy!” you chide.

The rest of your shift is uneventful and as you’re walking out of the back room, bag in hand, you search for Joel but much to your disappointment you don’t see him anywhere in the bar.

“He walked out while you were getting your things,” Jade says lightly, as if she can sense your disappointment. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

“Yea,” you answer vaguely. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.”

You hug Dan and Jade before walking toward the door, your head down as you start to make your way down the street.

“Where are you runnin’ off to sunshine?”

At the sound of Joel’s voice you whirl around and find him leaning against his motorcycle.

“Home,” you answer, trying to keep your voice steady.

His legs are crossed at the ankles and his hands are resting along his bike. His mussed hair moves gently in the light breeze and his jacket is unzipped to reveal his tight black tee beneath.

He’s making it hard to concentrate.

“Let me give you a ride,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen and he pushes off the bike, walking over and standing in your space.

He reaches up to take your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to gently press them against your palm. That’s when you see his knuckles, torn up and crusted with dried blood.

“Joel,” you gasp, flipping your hand to hold his and delicately grazing his knuckles.

He slowly follows your gaze, offering you a lopsided smirk before he assures you, “I’m fine sunshine. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“But you need to clean it and wrap it,” you tell him closing your hand around his.

“Let me take ya home and then I’ll get it taken care of.”

“I’ve never ridden a bike before,” you admit.

Joel dips his head, brushing his lips along your jaw before they meet your ear.

“Lookin’ forward to being your first, darlin.”

Your lips part with your inhale and when he brings his head back and meets your eyes you tremble at the heat you find simmering.

Joel tears his eyes away to grab his helmet from the handlebars and puts it on your head. He fixes the straps carefully and gently, like you’re precious, and it makes you feel warm all over.

“You’re gonna need a jacket too,” he says.

“I didn’t bring one. It’s usually warm when I walk home.”

“You can have mine.”

He shrugs off his leather jacket and rests it over your shoulders, the worn and soft leather molding to your body and wrapping you in his distinct scent.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him without a jacket or long-sleeved shirt and when you catch sight of the tattoos lining his sculpted arms it just about sends you reeling.

You breathe out a curse.

“You okay?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips.

“I like your ink,” you tell him, reaching out to trace your fingertips over one of the pieces that covers his bicep.

“You should see the rest of them,” he simpers.

His muscle flexes under your touch and you instinctively dig your fingers into his skin.

“I’d like that,” you hum.

This time he mutters a curse and starts to help you into his jacket, zipping it up slowly and stopping just below your collarbone.

“That should keep ya warm enough,” he muses, looking you over.

“I like you in my jacket,” he murmurs, letting his eyes linger before he checks the straps on your helmet one more time.

Then he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth before he turns and throws one long leg over his bike.

You tell him your address and get on behind him, having seen enough movies to know that much, and spread your legs wide to accommodate the large bike and his hips.

Unsure of where to put your arms you’re thankful when he grabs your hands and pulls them around his middle.

“Hold on tight, sunshine,” he says. “Tap my stomach if you need me to stop and watch the pipes, they get hot.”

He looks down at the large chrome pipes on the side of the bike.

“Okay,” you reply, your voice slightly shaky with nerves.

You bury your face against his back, the thin material of his tee shirt doing little to hide the muscles beneath but before you can really enjoy the feeling the bike roars to life and he pulls away from the sidewalk.

Your whole body vibrates with the action and the sensation makes you squeeze him tighter. You can feel his laughter just before he opens the throttle and takes off.

He takes the long way to your house and when he slows down and kills the engine you still don’t let go of him.

With a press of his palm to your hands you reluctantly let go, your legs wobbly as you try to hop off the bike. He quickly grabs your waist and helps you off, sliding one hand along your arm until he holds your hand in his.

“So?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

“That was kinda fun…I’d do it again.”

At that, he gives you a real smile, one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“That’s good sunshine. I’ll take you for a ride anytime you want.”

His last words come out like a purr and you’re glad for the hold he has on your hand to keep you standing upright.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth and lower your lashes, tugging him toward your house. You stop at the door and pull your bag in front of you, searching for your keys.

“I can’t seem to find my damn…” you start to mutter, ready to turn your bag over and dump it out.

With a frustrated sigh you turn to face him, finding very little space between your bodies. You realize there is nowhere to go as you press yourself into the door, Joel’s body almost touching yours.

The first thing you feel is the strength of his hand around your bicep and the other wrapping around your neck as he drags you closer and covers your mouth with his.

Your bag drops to the floor and you cling to him, the smell of him, the feel of his hands on your body holding you against him and it all overpowers you and you make a throaty sound you can’t control.

His hand at the back of your neck tightens and he groans low, the sound of it skimming down your spine. His kiss grows deeper and more demanding, long enough to steal your breath and you slide your hands over his shoulders and into his hair.

He breaks the kiss, pulling back only an inch to look into your eyes. His own are dark, his lashes lowered over them as he traces his lips with his tongue. His hands settle at your waist and he rests his forehead to yours.

“Joel?” you whisper.

When he lifts his head he gently releases you, his eyes washing over you with a slightly pained expression.

“I’m a gentleman,” he says with a wry smile. “Let me at least take you out first.”

Everything about him screams that he wants to kiss you again but somehow he keeps his distance.

“Right, a date,” you says breathlessly.

“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy hair.

Before you’ve fully recovered from the first kiss he has you pressed against the door again, his thumb tucked under your chin as his lips trail down the column of your neck. His hands slide lower, stroking your curves as his lips find the spot just below your ear and he whispers, “if I don’t go now…”

“Right…a gentleman…” you gasp, arching into him.

He pulls away, his eyes telling you everything he’s thinking.

Your knees are wobbly and you catch the doorframe with a sigh.

“Thank you again. For coming to my rescue.”

“Like I said, anytime sunshine,” he reminds you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow…”

It’s more of a question than a statement and for a brief moment you see a soft vulnerability flicker across his features.

“Of course,” you answer. “My shift starts at five.”

You lift your hand, brushing your fingers through his beard and then running them across the lines of his face, feeling the softness of his lips beneath your thumb. He reaches up and catches your hand, tugging it to his mouth and kissing across your knuckles.

“See you then sunshine and keep the jacket.”

@justkinsey @sstan-hoe @blackwidownat2814

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #protective!joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #biker!joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #biker au #joel miller au #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #esquire

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this-insidious-dawn · 7 months

Text

This Insidious Dawn is a dark fantasy IF wherein you play as a vampire, employed under the clandestine League of the Third God to hunt down anything -- everything - that does not belong in this world. But you do not belong here either, Warden. Demo tba.

☼ SYNOPSIS

The League saved you. Rewrote your life- gave you a chance to be more than a bloodstarved vampyr. Or did they?

You remember nothing of your past before the League; nothing but blood and indescribable agony, nothing but the thrumming of your heart stilling- and then beginning again, stilted and wrong. That was over a decade ago, the memories now faint and the connection quivering. They've been replaced, overwritten by years of blades clashing, body aches, and hollow hunger.

You started out weak. Starving, skin-and-bones, desperate for any reprieve you could get your hands on. Now, you're strong, each hunt -- each cut - giving you just enough energy to keep your worn body going. Some people would call it cruel, to keep a sentient being on the edge of death. Most people, though, would say that you're a vampire, so you hardly count as sentient.

Regardless of the morality of it, the method was effective. You were one of -- no, the most - efficient Warden the League had to offer.

And then a hunt went wrong. And now you're dead. But- a vampire (no, not a vampire; a vampyr) can never truly die. So you're back. But is it really you?

☼ FEATURES

↠ Customize your Warden. Appearance, gender, pronouns, and personality are all up to your choices as the player.

↠ This is a psychological horror first and foremost. It will have themes of dehumanization and derealization, amongst others. CWs will be offered.

↠ A character-driven plot where your choices impact the story.

↠ A cast of four consisting of The Acolyte, The Commander, The Savior, and The Forgotten, any of which you can optionally romance no matter your Warden's gender.

☼ CAST

↠ THE ACOLYTE

As with any vampire, you are accompanied by an acolyte to keep you in check and ensure that your hunts go well- as well as to mend any Gorges that riftspawn might crawl out of. Constantine Nimecidus fills this role, in your case (ae/aer). Ae is sharp-tongued, with a chronic lack of patience towards the people and world around aer, and can come across as snappy or rude. In other instances still, aer sarcastic, dry, and often untimely humor can offer a quick relief from the tension of any situation- or make it several times worse. Despite aer casual, laidback nature in the face of most events, ae places utmost importance on aer job, and quickly becomes intense whenever ae feels as if ae or aer position are being in any way threatened. You've spent years going on hunts with aer at this point, but the connection has never transcended the necessary 'I save you, you save me' exchange. Ae seems wary of you.

Constantine is a bit shorter than most, standing at 5'3. Ae has broad shoulders and hips, and is thickset with both muscle and fat. Aer amber skin is dappled with symmetrical pale patches, especially prevalent around aer eyes and mouth, and the lack of pigmentation has bled into aer hair in some spots, giving the dark auburn eye-catching streaks of white. Said hair is curly and cut shorter along the sides than the back is, and ae spends an awful lot of time preening it. Aer eyes are a striking, slightly luminescent bronze, and aer pupils appear instead of black as molten gold, shifting slightly in color to match aer emotions at any given moment. Ae has full lips and slightly upturned, monolid eyes. Ae favors shades of brown, tan, and orange in aer outfit, and ae near-constantly dons a rich red capelet with fur trimming around the hood.

↠ THE COMMANDER

Ex-commander of the Serpent's Guard-turned vampire. You'd personally never had a run-in with Alvaros Vepir until just recently (he/him). He's gruff, jaded, and withdrawn- exactly what you'd expect out of the man who gave his life for his queen only to nearly die (again) for it. It's hard to say, though, how much of his time as the commander he truly remembers. Alvaros is a poet's dream, the hero in an epic-turned-tragedy. He keeps everybody at arm's length, never allowing them to learn more than what the stories and theatrics tell of him. This is especially true of you- the vampire who was sent to reign him in, turn him from a rogue vampyr into a soldier of the League. Despite his emotional avoidance of you, though, he seems quite interested in you. Maybe it's the fact you're one of the few to have bested him in combat. Maybe it's just that 'vampiric charm' that old legends tell about (but that never seems to work outside of fights). Maybe it's because he remembers you.

Alvaros is intimidating in every manner. He stands at 6'4, his whole body is lean and scarred, and the black sclerae encircling dark green irises certainly does him no favors in lessening the effect. Before you were dispatched to retrieve him, you couldn't have said what he looked like; as the commander, he'd worn the veil regular of high-ranking members of the Serpent's Ring, leaving nothing but the back of his head exposed. Now, you know of his face well enough that you could probably recognize him in a crowd. With fawn skin dotted by freckles, hooded eyes, and a distinctive hooked nose, Alvaros is exactly what one would expect of a native of southern Ghel- save for his hair. Instead of the expected brown or black, his hair is a muddy blonde, and it has slight waves that turn into full curls at the tips. He maintains it short, never reaching past his chin. His face is scarred (his everything is, really), with a particularly nasty gash reaching from his left eyebrow down to his right jaw. It just barely misses his right eye.

↠ THE SAVIOR

An acolyte? You think so, anyways. Suri Revlece is the woman who saved you (she/her). You don't know whether or not she's even with the League, but she certainly looks like an acolyte. You don't know what she was doing there, either, but she seems willing to answer any of your questions while you recover- as long as they aren't personal. She's kind enough, but seems a little...off. She's finicky, always looking over her shoulder. She's running from something, but she doesn't seem to know what. She appears to believe that she and you have some type of camaraderie, although you've never met. But there's something to be said for the sheer strength of her magic- you've never seen an acolyte's shimmer burn a riftspawn like that. Never seen one with an eye glowing that bright, either. She's an anomaly- one that you're sure the headman at your partner's spire would be more than glad to have amongst their ranks, but then the mere idea of it had her denying it with vehemence. It seems like she has a history with it.

Suri has a mesmerizing look to her. The deep brown of her skin, near-black of her hair, and dark garb are contrasted with bright pops of color. One eye is a brightly glowing orange, the pupil nearly white, and the other is a misty grey, its almond shape deformed by the burn scars warping the left side of her face. That dark hair, braided and reaching down to about her hips, is decorated by light brown and gold beads engraved with runes that seem to serve to channel her magic. Her frame is lanky and she's long-limbed, reaching just above what most would think of as an 'average height', at 5'8. Below a brown leather cloak, more runed jewelry decorates her wrists and fingers, and her hands are tattooed in shades of bronze. The burn upon her face is not the only such injury she has suffered; her palms are burnt the slightest bit, and similar scars wrap around her arms. She has a broad nose and thick heart-shaped lips, and light stubble sits above the top lip.

↠ THE FORGOTTEN

You don't know who they are anymore. Who are they? (he/they/she)

A shadowy form, the silhouette of a memory. There's something not quite right about them. What have they become?

☼ LINKS

Demo - tba

Other blogs - @azraels-bad-choices (main IF blog) and @a-firsthand-murder-ballad (other project)

#interactive fiction #writing #interactive novel #if wip #twine game #if intro #this insidious dawn if

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luveline · 9 months

Note

Lovely Jade maybe you could write something about Roan finding a kitten on the street and hiding it in her backpack

🧡.

thank you so much for your request! eddie and roan —roan's acting suspicious. you and eddie investigate. stepmom!reader, 1.5k.

Roan comes in through the front door with a sweet smile. Living in your cul-de-sac has meant you don't mind too much if she wants to go out to play alone, where before Eddie would insist on sitting on the porch of the trailer, worried someone would come barrelling down the road seventy miles an hour.

"Hi, princess," you say, leaning down with your arms propped on the counter. You're putting the finishing touches on a drawing using the sunshine. Nothing special, just a sketch for fun.

"Hey, mommy."

You preen at the title. Being a stepmom is awesome, especially when she feels comfortable enough to call you mom. "Is it home time for Georgia?"

"Yeah, she's gone home for dinner."

"Are you hungry? Daddy's still at Uncle Gareth's, so I'm in charge of food."

You turn around when you get no answer, waving your pencil at an empty kitchen. "Roan?"

"I'm coming back!" She shouts from the top of the stairs.

You raise your eyebrows. "Okay!" you shout back. "I get to choose dinner, then? What's that, you want chicken pot pie?" You smile. Eddie loves chicken pot pie, especially when you make it.

You put your sketchbook and pencil case on the kitchen table and spray down the countertops. The motions of cooking are well worn now; you know how to make every recipe for two and a half people. You wash your hands, grab the canned puff pastry, and get to work.

Roan appears again as you're spreading a little bit of flour over the counter, running to the sink. She kicks her stepping stool to the counter and climbs up to wash her hands. She looks cagey.

"Anything I should know about?" you ask.

Roan squirts dish detergent into her palm, strawberry scented rivulets running between her little fingers before she's had time to rub it in. You set aside your rolling pin and pick up the soap to put a small dollop of it in her other hand.

"Say?" you ask, stroking her bedraggled hair away from her face.

"Nothing for you to know about."

You turn her head to yours, water spitting at your shirts as she washes her hands hurriedly. "Hey." You frown, gaze narrowing on a bloody scratch that's caught the bottom of her right cheek. "Aw, bubby, what happened?"

"It doesn't hurt," Roan says flippantly.

"You're gonna have to let me wipe it clean, still. Okay?"

"Yeah, mommy. Whatever you want."

You bite the inside of your bottom lip to tamp down an embarrassingly huge smile. "Okay. Good girl on the hand washing, you gonna help me make dinner, huh?" You kiss the top of her head. "I'm so lucky, my girl's so helpful."

"Can I go get changed first?" she asks.

"Yeah, bub. Want help?"

"No!" she shouts hopping down off of stool. She'll probably have to wash her hands again when she returns, but you're too happy to care. She's gorgeous, she's a sweetheart, and she loves you like a mom.

You turn back to the pastry and roll out the bottom of the pie. You'll refrigerate it while you make the chicken filling and the roux. Which one to make first? You might have done things in the wrong order.

"Ro, are you almost done?" you shout, blinking back to attention. "Let me look at that scratch, babe!"

Arms around your waist. You thought you heard the door.

"What scratch?" Eddie asks, dipping his face down to the juncture of your neck, where he plants a warm kiss.

"On her cheek. I let her go out with Georgia, I hope that's okay. Only in our street."

"That's okay," he assures you. He hugs you with kind arms, not squeezing like he tends to, completely and utterly loving. You can't hug him while your hands are covered in flour, leaning back instead to soak in all his affection. "What's the scratch from?"

"Yet to be determined."

Eddie hums and holds you. You cave in to dirtying him, painting his forearm with white fingerprints as you hug it to your ribs. You let your head flop back, tickled by his exhales where they kiss your neck.

You and Eddie stand there in quiet bliss. Then, from upstairs, you hear a strange sound.

"Is Roan back in her cat phase?"

Eddie tilts his head away from you. His hand retreats from your abdomen where it'd been resting, braced on your hips. "Ro…" He groans. "Not again."

"Eddie?"

He takes your hand. "She has a cat in her room."

The meows become clearer the further Eddie leads you up the stairs. You wipe as much of the flour on your hands onto your pyjama pants as you can, but it's a mess. Eddie can't complain —how often does he get car grease on you?

"Roan Ayla Munson," Eddie says through the closed door. "I better not find anything in there that I'm not supposed to."

You startle at the use of her middle name. You didn't even know Roan had a middle name until a couple of months ago; you always thought Eddie skipped giving her one. Apparently he thought Ayla was the same as Aella, an Amazonian fighter who wielded twin axes. Ayla, in contrast, means a few things. Bringer of light, in Finnish. Circle of light around the moon, in Turkish. Oak tree, in original Hebrew. You love all three definitions, but bringer of light feels most accurate.

Bringer of cats might be more astute at the moment.

"I don't have anything, daddy!"

Meow.

"I think you're lying to me. Last chance, bubby."

A vehement shushing noise, a meow, and a defeated sigh sound through the door. Weight hits the floor, footsteps creeping closer. You and Eddie wait in apparently very different moods for her to open the door.

Roan holds a wriggling kitten in her small hands. She's wearing a nightgown over her sweatpants like she'd started changing and forgotten. Her arms are covered in red scratches. The kitten yowls when it sees you and Eddie, likely finding you both to be more intimidating than your poor girl.

"Oh, babe," you fret breathlessly, "Eddie, take the cat."

"Dad–" Roan starts.

"Look at your arms," he interrupts with a tandem worry, taking the kitten from her.

You pick Roan up with ease, careful not to touch her pale arms. She tries to explain herself as you carry her down the stairs, "I found her behind Old Man Michael's house, she looked so sad and you said we should be nice to everything we meet, even if we don't like the way they look," she says.

"I meant about spiders and ants and stuff," Eddie says, holding the angry cat in front of his chest cautiously. "You know, we don't have to kill little creatures if we don't have to. I didn't mean you should kidnap kittens."

"She looked hungry."

You put Roan on the clean bit of counter between the stove and the sink and frown at her arms. "Sweetheart," you murmur sympathetically, "don't these hurt?"

"Well, I…"

You shoot Eddie a look. He stares the kitten in the eyes rather than meet your own, seemingly distracted. Fine, you'll try parent by yourself, even if you're no expert yet.

"What?" you ask patiently.

"I was hiding her in my backpack, but she didn't like it. She thinks it's too small."

"I bet so." You're thinking, Eddie, what are we gonna do? And, Ouch, these are going to hurt. "Ro, is this how you got the scratch on your cheek? You're lucky he didn't scratch you in the eye."

"I think he's a girl," Roan says.

This is less important to you than the scratches, but you amend yourself anyways. "She could've blinded you."

"I think you're in trouble, Ro. We already talked about this before, didn't we? No stray cats in the house," Eddie says.

"I already told you, dad! Rufus and Steve let themselves in, I didn't used to do that."

You wash your hands swiftly and grab the first aid kit from under the sink, pulling out the blue disinfectant spray that Roan hates. She winces at the sight of it as you expected, pulling her arms against her tummy.

"It won't hurt anymore than the scratches did when the kitten did them," you say gently.

Roan shakes her head.

You put the disinfectant between her knees and lean in. "I'll make daddy make cookies, yeah? You be brave and let me clean your scratches and we'll have warm cookies and ice cream."

Eddie breaks out of his stare off, taken aback. "It's her own fault," he says, though he's smiling.

"She was trying to do a good thing. And look at her little arms, Eds, hasn't she been punished enough?" you ask.

The kitten kicks its legs weakly. "What the heck are we gonna do with her?" Eddie asks.

"We could keep her," Roan says.

"Don't push your luck, Roro."

You lift the disinfectant spray. Roan seems apprehensive still, so you look her head on and wink. "I'll try my best," you whisper.

Roan holds out her arms with a grin.

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kandyshoppe · 2 months

Text

Dorms Bra Shopping pt 5

Pomfoire dorm

Heartslaybyul SavannahClaw Octavinelle Scarabia Pomfoire (you are here) Ignhyide Daisomnia Staff

Vil

as much as he does enjoy playing around with his femininity and presentation, he has never tried out bras or panties. Vil has worn dresses, skirts, corsets, ect, but never any intimate items. So hes joining in on the shopping. Because of that, he is choosing the store(s), and is totally making a day of this. Wear comfortable shoes. When Vil shops, he makes a day of it!If you try to bring out your wallet, hes looking at you weird before pushing your hand away, and paying himself. Besides, he probably has a tab set up at several stores, so you don't even think about the price. Freaking rich people

Vil has probably rented the entire space so there is nobody to bother both of you. He's running this like a military zone. He has the worker's running around to grab different sizes, shades, ect. But he is buying atleast 10,000 thaumarks worth of products, not including the renting the entire space! He pushes hard, but it's worth it.

He obviously enjoys purple, mainly dark purples on him with gold or silver accents. Velvet is also a favorite fabric for him, even though they can get warm. And you KNOW he's getting a full set! matching bra, panties, stockings, garters, and a robe with slippers! You and him get matching fits! Probably silk, and you get a lesson on care for silk.

He is a bit protective of you while shopping though. He has his security because hes A-famous and needs them, and B- he won't be letting anyone ruin your date! He rarely gets to go out with you because of his job. He really wants to keep you private, your identity is well hidden. You're one of the few things he wants all to himself. If you're being kept private, it's a sign of deep love for Vil. Being famous means very few things are private, so only the most important things are kept secret.

Over all it was stressful, but stressful like going to an amusement park. Lots of people, rushing around, but still enjoyable. Vil decides to get something to go from a fancy restaurant (which you didn't know was an option) and you both ate at Pomfoire, then did a bit of self care. A spa day is needed, with a foot bath cause your feet are sore from walking so much!

Rook

now for my favorite little freak, he knows your bra size already. Don't question him. He has a fairly large family, so definitely has a sister or two who has had him come shopping before. He knows the protocol. Don’t stare, compliment, offer to pay but don’t push, get something to eat, ect. Problem is he basically does malicious compliance in the rules! He’s complementing you so much, it makes everyone else uncomfortable. Someone may come check on you, Vil told you to bring the Rook spray bottle but you didn’t. This is your own fault

Goes crazy with the complimenting, but let’s be honest, we expected that. It’s Rook, he’s praising you like you’re his muse (which you are, probably is bringing a sketchbook to write poetry about you and get some sketches of your beauty) you may just have to tune him out while you look, don’t bother asking for input, he’ll just say you look beautiful in everything. Though he does point out the best points everytime. If you ask enough you start to get an idea of his preferences

Rook loves greens, purples and reds. Not all together, atleast since Vil has trained him in fashion. If this is first year Rook, he’s getting the ugliest plaid of red purple and green, all horrible shades and mixed horrible. First year Rook should not be trusted with fashion choices. Either way, Rook quite enjoys the camo looks quite a bit still, but also is starting to enjoy the look of softer cottage core looks too. He and Jade would both go crazy over the mushroom panties.

Rook is great to have around though cause he is scaring off any and all creeps. Though he is also kind of creepy, doesn't stare or anything, but he's obsessive. You either love having him around, or hate having him around when shopping. Alot like Jade in how other's ask if you're okay.

Afterwards, you both share some sandwiches while he waxes poetically about the entire trip, how his heart is full of his love for you! Just make him carry all the bags, and shove a potato chip in his face. Vil may freak out but it's Rook's cheat day so bug off!

Epel

He loves his granny, and has gone shopping with her. He thinks its manly to carry the bags, which it obviously is! He is ready for you to spend all of your money so he can show off how strong he is! Give him all the bags! ALL OF THEM! please?

hope vil doesn't catch wind of this, cause then Epel is getting an etiquette lesson on shopping. Don't stare, always compliment something, offer but don't push to pay (unlike himself), get something to eat ect. Epel is now terrified of going shopping with you. He doesn't want to insult you! he loves you!!!

He is very polite though, remembers how to act thankfully, and if any creeps come along, he's letting his country loose! Up in their face, makes a scene but it's worth it! He's the hero and everyone will end up fawning over him. Hope you can fight them all off!

Epel has only gone shopping with his granny, so he doesn't know about anything other than granny undies, and thermal underwear. But seeing all of this! He likes the soft feminine looks on you, and the manly looks on him. He likes the manly looks on you too though! He loves darker shades on you both, and apple blossoms as decor. He very much is aggressive in apple blossoms being the best of all flowers, and will fight anyone who disagrees.

In the end, he packed lunch for you both, with fresh cider, homemade apple tarts, and some good sandwiches. He totally had his granny on the phone helping him make the tarts, and Trey was on standby cause you only deserve the best! (Also, cooking and baking are manly! Learns quickly why most bakers are ripped, his arms still hurt from rolling out the dough!)

#twisted wonderland #pomfoire #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #rook hunt x reader #epel felmier x reader #epel felmier #x fem reader #x gn reader #rook hunt

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treysimp · 2 years

Text

“I don’t know how else to say this… do you want to make out on my couch?”

Part 3

GN!Reader x Octavinelle (Azul, Floyd, Jade)

Smooching, implied mutual pining and suggestive themes, but nothing explicit. Reader is not physically described.

Other chapters:

🐙💜🐙💜🐙💜🐙💜🐙💜

Want more TWST? Here's my Masterlist!

“Prefect, if you wanted to make a deal you could have just…” Azul seems to have begun reciting a canned response, one hand splayed on his chest and the other beginning to push up his glasses until he perfectly freezes in place at the realization of just what it was you asked him.

His icy eyes snap to yours in bewilderment and for once the ever-prepared businessman looks like he got hit by a truck. You weren’t going to pass this chance by.

“Oh? So you are on the table? I guess everything has a price, huh?” You giggle, smoothing your hands around the hem of his collar. You take advantage of the proximity to stare at his nervously bobbing adam's apple as Azul thickly swallows. Oh man, it’s mean to tease him like this… but…

“If having you were my wish, what would it cost me?” you say, looking up your lashes at Azul to gauge his reaction.

Azul’s mouth opens and closes uselessly, his ears flush crimson as he desperately tries to will the stalled gears in his head to turn again. You weren’t sure if he’d even looked cuter than he did right now.

“Ahah… well, I mean… this is an unprecedented request so I would need to calculate my uh expenses, the payroll deductions, line item taxes and…” his babbling trails off, clearly not sure of what he possibly is supposed to do in this situation.

He studied night and day, he voraciously devoured every single written word he could, academic and… less so as well… but in the index cards of his learning that he shuffled desperately through to find an answer, he was drawing a blank.

Azul finally broke eye contact with you and gazed towards the ground in thought, crossing his arms as his face spread into a soft smile.

“F-For you…” he pointed his finger into the distance as if he was indicating a point on a map you should see. He complimented this pose by tilting his head inquisitively to the side, handsomely framing his face with the longest curl of his silver hair

“It’s… it’s on the house.” he finally finished. Unfortunately, his attempt at a suave swoon-worthy line did not quite deliver the impact he wanted it to. Azul was flushing even deeper than he had been before trying to lay a cringy line on you. Oh god, why is he trying to be cool right now?

“Oh…” you gasped softly, “well, aren’t I just the luckiest?” you say with a grin. Taking the opportunity of your response causing Azul to lower his arms in relief, you grasped Azul by his lapels and pulled him forward into you. You carefully placed and most gentle kiss you could manage on him.

At first, Azul’s arms hovered at his sides, seemingly mirroring the frozen state he was in when you had first asked your scandalously forward question.

Within a brief second of pause, his hands were on you, desperately grasping and groping at every bit of you he could touch. Azul’s breathing sped up as he quietly moaned and gasped into your rapidly intensifying kiss.

When you two finally separated, Azul’s chest was heaving, his eyes were glassy and his perfect waves were mussed and thrown about.

Setting his mouth in a straight line, Azul looks at you with determination. Just as you were about to ask him why he was screwing up his lovely face, you felt yourself being lifted from the ground and Azul quickly tromped the both of you across the ratty living room, over to your well-worn couch.

You gasped in surprise but quickly remembered just how strong mermen seemed to be, even if they weren’t the most graceful on land. While Azul had never been one for flying during PE, you had caught him lifting suspiciously heavy objects more than once in other scenarios.

Throwing you down in a way that was perhaps less graceful than he intended, Azul nevertheless climbed on top of you in a hurry, his breath being barely visible in the air of the cool night.

His blue eyes shined from the moonlight streaming into the Ramshackle lounge, but the low light did little to hide the sheen of spit on his lips and the reddening of every square inch of his visible body.

Azul’s hands were all over you yet again, and with the amount he was able to do so quickly, you would think that he had more than two of them. Lovingly stroking, tugging, testing, caressing, it felt like he was afraid that if he stopped for even a moment he would miss something vitally important.

Hat on the ground, scarf tossed to the side, Azul set upon the rest of the garters and contraptions that held his dapper uniform to his body. He repeatedly got distracted by seeing you below him, and just as soon as he would remove one glove, he would jump back to you, smothering your skin with his touch and then undoing one or two buttons of your own. It was slow going, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Look… prefect…” Azul began, his eyes earnestly staring into yours with an indiscernible emotion. He sighed deeply and started his full sentence again.

“You… you’re not signing a contract with me but… regardless I’m…” his eyes drifted off to the side, clearly contemplating how to finish his declaration.

“I am swearing to you right now. I will-! I will write it down if you want me to…” he said, his voice getting louder and more confident.

“Regardless I… I am going to do everything I can to make sure that you will never forget tonight.”

----------

“Oh? Are you trying to come on to a poor innocent eel, like me, shrimpy?”

Floyd’s eyes seem to practically glow with mirth as he leans close to examine your face, cocking his head to the side as he slips ever closer. His ever-present slouch seems to against all reason make him seem even larger when he’s using it to crowd you like this.

“I never thought that you would try to take advantage of my innocence, you know? Poor sweet me. A naive little moray amongst all of these cunning humans…” Floyd's shoulders are visibly shaking as he seems to barely be able to contain his giggles.

You came this far though, and he hasn’t said no.

Calling his bluff, you snake closer to his ear and push his long strand of dark hair back behind it.

“Do you want that, Floyd? Do you want me to sully your squeaky-clean reputation? To take advantage of you? ”

Floyd’s eyes widen as he stands eerily still for just a moment. After a few seconds of you genuinely worrying if he needed to blink, Floyd finally closed his eyes and fully shook with the laughter that he had been holding back through the entire conversation.

Wiping a tear from his eye, he gasped a few more times until finally settling down, eyes sparkling as he again leaned back down to crowd you just as he had been a minute before, quickly getting back into the character. You weren't sure why he was so attached to this bit, but you were willing to play along.

Putting his hands on either side of your head, he grinned in a way that best put his sharp teeth on display as Floyd proceeded to pin you to the door like a butterfly waiting to be mounted on a frame. All this talk about being helpless and he was going to be the one pinning you down, huh?

“I hope you understand what you’re getting into.” He whispers before finally closing the gap between his mouth and yours.

His kisses are messy and unrefined, but even so, you could tell that he wanted them just as badly as you had.

You could hear Floyd quietly whimper and sigh against your lips, chasing you every time you tried to separate from him to grab a breath and insistently pulling you back against him.

“Heya… shrimpy…” Floyd finally pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, speaking in between labored pants, his bright eyes boring into your own.

“You really want me, right? This is really happening, right?”

You weren’t sure why he was asking, but you nodded.

“Yes… I really…” he cuts you off with his mouth again and his left-hand drifts to the doorknob behind you to throw it open, tripping you both in the process.

You land on the ground with a yelp, while Floyd just lands on top of you, eyes dreamy and grin wide.

“Hey…. Can I? Do you want to?”

You sigh at him in fond exasperation.

“Do I want to do what, Floyd?”

Floyd’s giggles seem to keep him from speaking as he lowers his face to your neck to nip and playfully pepper you with the ghosts of kisses.

“Do you want to go further?”

You were mildly surprised to hear Floyd ask so respectfully, but were a little less impressed to see that he had been stripping without waiting to hear your answer.

“Floyd! You’re not even gonna wait to see if I say yes?” His eyes widen for just a moment as he stops himself with his shirt tangled around his head and the long sleeves wrapped around his neck in a stranglehold. He blinks owlishly and then puts his arms down carefully, trying not to rip the clothes that you feel he would have shredded if he were in a worse mood.

“...oh, yeah.” He pulls down his shirt for just a moment as he stares at you, holding perfectly still as he stares at you expectantly.

“The answer is yes.' you say, immediately flinching at the happy squeal that erupts from Floyd as he resumes tossing the clothing that was already partially hanging off of his body halfway across the room.

Floyd tackles you back to the floor and peppers your face in small ticklish kisses, you giggle and swat at him but he refuses to give it up.

“Shrimpy?”

“Yes, Floyd?”

“I hope you’re ready to take responsibility for being such a bad influence on sweet, little ol’ me.” he says, a malicious grin once again spreading across his face.

“It might take all night.”

----------

Complete and utter silence. If you didn’t know better you would have thought that Jade didn’t hear you, but you were well aware that he had.

You turned slowly to look at him, preparing yourself to be turned down. People don’t just sit in silence because they’re stoked about what just happened, right?

To your surprise, Jade seemed to just be observing you, hand on his chin like you were a specimen under his watch, a slight smile washing over his features as he waited patiently.

He seemed to be waiting for something, which honestly pisses you off considering the fact that the person who had just risked it all in a moment of horny weakness was you and not him. You could feel the tips of your ears burning as you tried to keep your composure.

“… Jade?”

“Yes, Prefect?”

“Are you going to respond?”

Jade tapped his gloved finger to his chin, innocently tilting his head to the side in a facade of faux confusion that greatly contrasted with the smug air that oozed out of his every pore.

“I was just basking in the moment,” Jade stated frankly, finally taking a slow step to close the gap between you.

Jade peeled off his gloves and stuffed them into his jacket pocket, trailing his now bare hand down your forearm to lace his fingers in between yours.

It felt strangely intimate, to tell the truth. His skin was shockingly soft and you marvel at how immaculate his hands appear to be even though both his job and hobbies involve working with his hands.

Jade slowly tugs you inside and proceeds to elegantly settle himself on your couch, allowing you to flop unceremoniously opposite him.

He’s staring again, but his smile seems more genuine this time, not like his usual grin that never touches his eyes. This smile felt fond and disarming, a smile that you were not sure you ever had the pleasure of seeing before.

Jade reached over and threaded his fingers at the base of your head, tangling his grasp in your hair and gently tugging at your roots. Soft but still insistent, he pulls you forward to him.

His other hand deftly began unbuttoning your collar, pushing the fabric to the side to get a better view of your clavicle. Jade’s hand drifted lower and pressed firmly against the left side of your chest. At first glance, you might think that he was feeling you up, but you soon realized that he was actually trying to feel your heartbeat.

“Can I conduct an experiment? I promise it will be a pleasant one,” he said softly, his mismatched eyes drifting to your lips thoughtfully.

With a swallow, you slowly nodded. You could only hope he was telling the truth.

Jade’s body pushed further into yours until you could finally feel his petal-soft lips gliding over yours, warm breath mixing in gasps and murmurs.

“Hahh… just as I thought,” Jade mumbles as you part reluctantly from a particularly heated kiss. “It sped up. That means you meant it, right?”

Your face flushed at his implication. Does he think you would try to come on to him as a joke?

“Of course I meant it!” you said with a frown.

“I know,” Jade responded, lowering his face to kiss at the point where your shoulder met your neck. “I just had to prove it.”

Your breathing sped up as you tried not to make pathetic noises while Jade nursed on your pulse point. After a moment, his forehead landed on your shoulder with a quiet thump, and Jade heaved a quiet sigh. You look down at him questioningly, smoothing down his hair with your palm as he sat in silence.

“I think I am going to have to spend some time finding out just how fast I can make it beat,” he said finally, springing up from his place against your shoulder to push you back-first onto the couch.

His hands were quick, one working up the hem of your shirt as the other traced your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Alas, there’s only one way to find out for sure, hmm? This will be a fine study, don't you think?”

Who do y’all want to see next? I realize that I probably shouldn’t have made this a side blog because I can’t respond to your lovely comments in the replies 🥲 should I remake/repost these you think?

Inbox me your requests and suggestions and I would love to write more.

Also tomorrow is my birthday so if you want to scream about these boys with me that would be a great present. 🥰

Also: would any of you be interested in NSFW continuations or nah?

Thanks for reading! Love you!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #floyd x reader #jade x reader #twst x reader #twst azul #twst jade #twst floyd #couch series

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harlowcomehome · 4 months

Text

Chores and soap bubbles:

A Hazel and Jade fic.

You gathered up the laundry for what felt like the millionth time this week, sighing as you threw Jack's green new balance sweat pants into the hamper that you already struggled to carry.

“Are you serious? ” You mumbled to yourself realizing he was putting clothes in the hamper that hadn’t worn in a while, pulling them out one by one to look over them.

“Jackman? Why is this in here?” You walked into the living room, holding up a Gucci shirt by the collar that you’d never seen him wear, not even once.

He wasn’t paying attention to you, he had been distracted for the last month or so. You couldn’t blame him, knowing he was preparing for the next album but all of your household duties were starting to weigh on you.

You stood in front of him now, snapping your fingers in front of his face to get his attention.

“What the-“ he removed his AirPods and looked at you blankly. He was trying to come up with lyrics and was engulfed in doing that.

“Why am I washing this?” You held the shirt in front of him. Your jaw flexed at the frustrations your face wore.

“It was wrinkled” he shrugged before putting his AirPod back into his ear, he couldn’t be bothered with your frustrations at the moment.

Jack had offered several times over the years for the two of you to get a maid or housekeeper of some sort but you liked being in control of those things, which made you feel awful for complaining, so you rarely did.

You opened the lid to your washer and put as many articles of clothing inside that fit. You were wondering how your husband and the girls went through so many clothes, knowing you had spent most of your days this week inside of the house.

Hazel and Jade were playing in the backyard when it started to heavily rain. The two of them had been playing soccer in the backyard for over an hour.

Jack hadn’t noticed them coming inside or noticed that they left mud all over the living room.

You were at your wits end, as you scanned the living room floor that was now covered in mud. You had just moped a few hours earlier, the house still filled with the scent of cleaner.

Hazel noticed the shoe prints, a gasp escaping her. She knew how long it took you to clean.

“I’m so sorry Mommy” she mumbled, her voice small as she stood in the hallway with Jade closely behind her.

“We can help clean it up!” Jade exclaimed, Jack finally realized what was going on once he looked up and around the living room.

“No, girls that’s fine. Mommy will handle it” Jack nonchalantly replied.

You wouldn’t deny that you would’ve said that same sentence yourself, but the fact that he didn’t offer to help was only adding to your feeling of being overwhelmed.

“Don’t worry about it girls. Just get cleaned up. Leave your shoes right there” You pointed off to the side and smiled at them softly to let them know you weren’t upset with them.

Hazel could immediately feel the tension in the room, helping her little sister take her shoes off and leaving them to the side of the room before quickly skipping out of the room.

You pulled the AirPod out of his ear aggressively, as soon as the girls were out of earshot startling him as he jumped a little.

“Did you suddenly come down with a serious allergy to mops that I don’t know about?” You stood before him with your arms crossed against your chest.

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t help but laugh, unsure if you were being serious with him or not.

“Why do you just assume that I’m going to clean that mess? You were supposed to be watching them through the window like you said you would.”

“I’m a little busy here” he scoffed knowing this was going to be an argument.

“You’re always too busy for everything, especially me” Your lips trembled.

“That's not true Y/N.” He took a sharp breath in, the sentence you said stinging and making him feel hurt now too.

You didn’t have the energy to fight, shuffling to the bedroom in your worn-out slippers and slamming the door shut.

Hours had gone by before you heard the bedroom door creak open, it was the sound of your daughters and not your husband so you welcomed them with open arms.

“Mommy! Are you sick?” Jade giggled, realizing you were awake as the two of them crawled into bed with you.

“No baby, I’m just tired” You opened your arm for the both of them to snuggle closer to you.

“Daddy made a yummy dinner if you’re hungry” Hazel knew that if you weren’t sick you were likely upset as you rarely had any downtime to lay in bed otherwise.

“Oh yeah? What did he make?” You tickled her tummy making her giggle as Jack walked in with a plate of food for you.

“I thought I’d let you get a nap in” he smiled, handing you the plate of food as he sat on the bed beside you and the girls.

“Hey girls, do you want to get dessert ready?” Jack had to think of a way to get them out of the room for a moment as they both excitedly hopped off the bed and into the kitchen together.

“I’m sorry for earlier. I was being an ass, and I wasn’t thinking. I cleaned up the living room and switched out the laundry.”

“I just get tired of having to do it all, and I know that I chose that but-“

“No. Don’t do that. I was wrong. I need to help out more” he leaned in, moving your hair from your face as he kissed your forehead.

“I’m sorry for saying what I said too. I didn’t mean it. ” You took his hands into yours, kissing the top of them before he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

“I guess I forgive you” he playfully replied in a sing-songy tone making you giggle.

“Let’s go out there. The littles are taking too long” You giggled at the nickname and Jack held your plate as you got out of bed.

••••

The following days were better, Jack helped when he was available but with an out-of-state concert scheduled, you knew you had to carry the load.

The first day without Jack, you woke up to a noisy house. The girls were normally still in bed, making you suspicious of how long you had slept in. You checked the time realizing it was only eight thirty, still late for you as you hurried to the kitchen.

Hazel and Jade had woken up before you and took the initiative to help with the chores that their dad couldn’t do while he was away.

It wasn’t until you saw the massive amount of bubbles and water all over the kitchen floor that you figured out what went wrong.

Jade was currently making soap angels on the tile floor and Hazel was covered in bubbles as she struggled to take the fifth bucket of soapy water into the backyard.

“Ahhh!” She wasn’t expecting to see you, falling backwards and spilling the bucket all over herself and the floor.

“Hazey, are you okay?” Jade scooted on the floor over to her, checking for scrapes and cuts.

“My ego is bruised but I’m okay” Hazel mumbled. (Dramatic like her dad.)

“Eggos are waffles. Silly Hazey!” Jade giggled.

You stifled a laugh, taking your slippers off and rolling up your pajama pants as you carefully slid over to your daughters.

“Sit with us!” Jade exclaimed with soapy hands.

You happily obliged before you laid down beside Hazel and Jade on the floor, laughing hysterically as the two of them burst into laughter too.

There were tears in your eyes when you finally gained composure of yourself.

“I was trying to help because daddy is gone” Hazel scooted closer to you, worried you were still going to be upset with her.

“You used dish soap?”

“Yupp” she giggled, “are you mad at us?”

“Not at all, but next time let me worry about things okay? Your only job is to be a kid” You took her chin into your hand giving her face a gentle shake.

“Now you sound like daddy” Hazel giggled and rolled her eyes having heard that phrase from her dad numerous times.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow fanfic #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb

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hisui-dreamer · 11 months

Text

wooden charms

Pairing: Floyd Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: His beloved Shrimpy has been avoiding him, oh what is an eel to do?

Tags: miscommunication, comfort, fluff, Floyd calls you shrimpy, jade leech is a good man<3, bot proofread

Word count: 1.3k+

Notes: floyd fluff! this eel has been occupying my mind since the camp event started hahaha

i don't love the language in this fic, so there might be changes made here and there every time i have an epiphany lol

Floyd sank into the worn-out couch, his lean figure spreading out lazily across the worn-out cushions. Dishevelled strands of teal hair cascaded untamed over his forehead, casting a shadow that mirrored the clouded thoughts in his brooding eyes. Beside him, Jade maintained an impeccable posture, emanating an aura of refined elegance.

The two settled into the plush seats of the Mostro Lounge's VIP room, their weary bodies finding respite in its luxurious embrace. It had been yet another day consumed by the relentless demands of work, leaving Floyd's nerves frayed and restless. The dim lighting cast an ethereal glow, but it did nothing to quell the tempest swirling within Floyd.

A heavy sigh escaped Floyd's lips, his voice tinged with a touch of melancholy. "Jade," he whined as he nudged his brother. "I dunno what's gotten into Shrimpy lately. I don't get it, they used to be all over me, like a little fishy clingin' to my side. But for a while now, they keep saying they’re busy and can’t spend time with me. But then I saw them hanging out with the Guppy! What's the deal?"

Jade, ever the diplomat, maintained his business-like facade, though his eyes hinted at a deeper understanding. "Floyd, relationships can be like that. It is rather odd that the prefect has been avoiding you, but I'm sure they're just extremely busy. It’s to be expected given they’re the headmaster’s errand runner…. And Epel is a first-year student, so it is likely they would study together. Just be patient, I'm sure they’ll come around."

But Floyd's eyebrows only furrowed more at Jade’s words. "But it feels like they’re ignorin' me completely! What in the world has got Shrimpy so preoccupied? It's drivin' me crazy..." he complained, absentmindedly running his hand through his messy hair. "I miss Shrimpy…," he murmured, his voice quivering with unspoken pain.

Jade's voice softened, trying to reassure Floyd. It wasn't often that he saw his brother so vulnerable. "Well, if you genuinely think something is wrong, I think you should confront them. Humans always stress that open communication is crucial in relationships," he suggested softly. "Ask them what's going on with them. Let them know how you feel. You won't change anything if you don't try to understand them. Perhaps there's a deeper reason behind their distant demeanour that you're unaware of."

Floyd sat still, absorbing Jade's words, his calm understanding offering a soothing balm to his troubled soul. He nodded slowly, the weight of their conversation sinking into him. "I guess you're right, Jade," he replied, his voice carrying a newfound determination. "I need to go talk to Shrimpy. I can't take this anymore."

The vibrant ambience of the restaurant clashed starkly with the sombre storm brewing within Floyd's soul. The cacophony of the customers' chatter and laughter grated against his raw nerves, an unwelcome intrusion on his troubled thoughts. Every incoming order felt like a burden that continued to weigh him down. With each passing moment of his arduous shift, he felt the urge to go and squeeze someone intensify.

He had desperately wanted to find you and have a heart-to-heart talk. However, Azul, ever the entrepreneurial mind, had devised yet another business venture to propel the Mostro Lounge's profits. And now, Floyd found himself trapped in a whirlwind of responsibilities, with hardly a moment to rest as he navigated managing a fresh batch of unfortunate souls who were just so useless as servers.

"Can you just hand me the damn plates already? I don't have time for this," Floyd muttered through gritted teeth, his words oozing with impatience and exasperation. The weight of his fatigue lent an edge to his voice, underscoring the strain he endured.

But then, like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, you walked through the restaurant's entrance, piercing through the clouds of his irritation. Floyd's eyes widened, a wide grin stretching across his fatigued face, erasing all traces of weariness.

"Shrimpy!" Floyd exclaimed, his lazy drawl transformed into an exuberant melody. Ignoring the bustling crowd around him, he darted towards you with infectious enthusiasm. "You're here! Did you miss me?" He spoke eagerly, closing the distance between you.

In a surge of affection, Floyd enfolded you in his embrace. His arms wrapped around you tightly, fearing you’d suddenly disappear. Soon, he sensed your tapping on his back, a gentle reminder that his hugs were too strong and you struggled to breathe. He reflexively released his hold, though he remained intimately close.

"Hahaha, I missed you too, Floyd," you laughed, unable to resist his endearing antics. The sound of your laughter erased any trace of the weariness that had burdened him moments before.

"I've missed you too, Shrimpy. I haven’t seen you in so long!" he giggled, before remembering what had troubled him and pulling back. "You kept hanging out with Guppy and ignoring me!" he accused, a hint of lingering frustration colouring his words.

"Oh, Floyd, I'm sorry," you murmured, reaching up to delicately cup his cheek. His face instinctively leaned into your touch, melting at your warm touch. "I had something to do, and I needed Epel's help, but I promise I can spend more time with you now." The warmth in your voice carried the reassurance he longed for, gradually easing the tension between you.

At your words, Floyd visibly lit up with a flicker of excitement and relief. "Really? That's great!" he exclaimed, a joyous sparkle igniting in his eyes. "Now I have Shrimpy all to myself again!" With a burst of enthusiasm, he grasped your hands and shook them.

But then, his attention was drawn to the peculiar texture beneath his touch. Floyd's gaze shifted to your hands, his eyes widening as he noticed the bandages delicately wrapped around your fingers. A flicker of anger kindled within him, fuelled by a potent blend of concern and protectiveness.

"What happened to your fingers, Shrimpy?" Floyd's voice trembled with a mixture of anger and worry, his brows furrowing.

You gathered the courage to explain, recognizing the need to calm his simmering anger before he took it out on someone. "It's nothing serious, really," you began, your voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I just... I wasn't careful enough. I know it looks bad, but please, don't be angry. It was purely accidental."

Floyd's anger began to wane, replaced by a cautious curiosity as he leaned in, eager to understand the circumstances surrounding your injuries. His tone softened as he asked, "What were you doing that hurt you? Tell me, Shrimpy."

A sheepish smile graced your lips as you reached into your pocket, retrieving a meticulously crafted wooden shrimp charm, intricately carved with precision and love. "Well," you began, a touch of uncertainty in your words, "I wanted to make something special for us, something that would remind you of me when I’m not around. I thought maybe phone charms would be something you would always carry around, so I made this," you explained.

With a deft and fluid motion, your other hand retrieved your phone, revealing a dangling eel charm attached to it. "See?" you whispered, a hint of vulnerability lacing your voice. "I know it’s not the prettiest, but we can match, Floyd."

As Floyd's eyes took in the shrimp and eel charms, his features softened, his anger dissipating like a receding tide. A surge of affection and understanding washed over Floyd, and he reached out to carefully take the wooden shrimp charm, his fingertips brushing against yours as he did so.

"Shrimpy," Floyd spoke softly, his voice filled with newfound tenderness. "I had no idea... This is so cool! You made that for me?"

You smiled at his reaction. "Yeah, I don't really have enough money to buy fancy gifts, and handmade gifts are always more heartfelt, don't you think?"

He encircled you in his embrace once more, this time more delicate and loving. "Thank you, Shrimpy," he murmured, his voice carrying a depth of emotion. "I’ll keep your Shrimpy charm safe."

As he drew back slightly, you noticed a slight pout gracing his features. "But please don’t avoid me again, okay?" he whined, before mushing his cheek against the top of your head.

"It's unbearable without you," he murmured.

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland floyd #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #disney twisted wonderland

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lexsssu · 6 months

Text

Possess (Xiao)

TAGS: Xiao/Dragoness!reader, jealousy, dirty talk, smut, drabble Ao3 ver.

“Your persistence is as admirable as it is aggravating. Don’t you have any other unfortunate soul to target?”

The yaksha’s low, irritated voice didn’t perturb you a single bit. Rather, it only seemed to spur you on even more as you leisurely circled him, molten gold orbs glinting with mirth and a hint of possessiveness.

Arriving at a whole new world was daunting to say the least, especially since this world was filled with both powers and dangers alike. You were simply fortunate enough to be transported here within your game avatar's body, including ALL her powers and items. However, waking up in an unfamiliar place by your lonesome can make even the most level-headed person feel so lost.

You were simply lucky that a passing antisocial adepti spotted you and offered his assistance, albeit acting surly and taciturn the whole time he begrudgingly accompanied you to the nearest safe haven, Wangshu Inn to be precise.

“But Xiao...you know you’re my favorite person in all of Teyvat”

There is no shame to be found in your eyes nor your movements as you slip your arms around his slim waist from behind. If you weren’t wearing a glamour right now, your reptilian tail would have been wagging right now as you unabashedly press your body against the male’s. So close that you could smell the scent of earth and nature that eternally clung to him, even that small hint of copper underneath wasn’t unknown to you.

Xiao stiffened instinctively, almost summoning his lance but managing to stay his hand when he both heard and felt rumbling from you. You were...purring?

“Only you deserve ALL my attention”

The yaksha decidedly chose not to pay attention to the warmth of his body as you press the full softness of your own body against his own battle-worn one, the stiff peaks that decorated your plush bosom making themselves known through the irritatingly thin clothes you wore that almost seemed like a second skin. (You yourself always had a higher temperature unlike normal humans so of course he felt hot and not because you affected him in any sort of way of course!).

You’ll be the death of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why is it that the moment I turn my eyes away, you’re already entertaining that Fatui mongrel?” Writhing shadows enveloped the adepti’s form as a malevolent green glow bathed his body. “Are you so starved for attention that as soon as any willing male appears before you, you’re practically ready to spread your legs for them?”

Laid against the green grass with only the remnants of your tattered clothes to cushion you, you were savagely taken by the jade-haired warrior beneath the light of the moon and stars. Despite the tranquility of your surroundings, there is only desperation and a primal urge to possess you in every snap of Xiao’s hips as he ground his cock into your warm, wet, and welcoming cunt. The tip knocked at the very entrance to your womb with how fiercely he plowed into you, a small bulge slightly poking from your stomach each time he shoved the full length of his dick into your pussy.

“If I truly allowed myself to release ALL my inhibitions...I’d have tied you down already for all eternity. I’d breed your womb again and again until my seed takes and you’d bear all my young”

Maybe it was the light of the moon above, but Xiao’s own gold hues were brightened by an unearthly light as they bore into your own. His perpetually frowning face was replaced by a feral snarl, possessiveness leaking out of the yaksha in waves as he fucked you into the ground like an animal. The mating press he had you in ensured that you were as close to one another as possible, allowing you barely half a second of respite before he plunges his heavy girth up to the hilt.

“Regardless if it was merely a ploy to gather my attention...I hope that you know there is no more escape from me. Our fates will now forever be intertwined until time itself ceases to exist.”

#lexsssu writes #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #genshin xiao #genshin xiao x reader #genshin impact smut #crossposted on ao3

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merakiui · 1 month

Text

[viii.] ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘᵗᶜʰᵉʳᵉᵈ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping/captivity, descriptions of murder/death, violence, strangulation chapter vii│chapter viii (you are here)│chapter ix

Today’s Thought - As biology would have it, the moray eel is cowardly by nature. Somehow this facet doesn’t apply to a certain someone. What he lacks in cowardice, he makes up for in cruelty.

The three days that follow the first feel like a blurred eternity, and you only know it’s been three because Jade’s explained your daily horoscope thrice now. The first: Do your best and your days will be fortuitous. You’re walking the path to success. The second: You may feel gloomy with the shifting skies. Rainfall may evoke sadness, but the secrets you hide from that important someone will seem even sadder. And the third (today’s prediction): There’s a chance you might find luck in uncertain situations.

These horoscopes might have provided you with a shred of relief if it weren’t for the fact that your slumber has been mostly dreamless ever since that last obscure nightmare, and so you don’t have anything to compare them to. No jellyfish. No strangers sitting at dinner tables. No blue hues for you to contemplate.

You’ve read through A Hiker’s Guide twice in the span of forty-eight hours, committing fungi facts to memory as if they’ll serve any purpose while you remain shackled in captivity. But it keeps you occupied and smothers any morbid thoughts threatening to spill into your skull. Which is what you really need right now—the sweet sense of comfort and contentment.

Jade upheld his end of your bargain yesterday when he poked his head inside the bathroom, presenting the white suit coat Azul had worn the night he faux-proposed. You kept your complaints to yourself, silently scorning him while he draped it across your shoulders. It’s an expensive brand sewn from luxurious fabrics you’d never be able to afford no matter how many extra shifts you pick up at The Devil’s Delight.

Out of habit, you’re attempting to calculate how many times you’d need to sleep with Azul in hopes of convincing him to buy you an outfit of equal grandeur. Your logic tells you multiple times for every pretty button and precise stitch, but your heart tells you it would only take a simple question and a sincere smooch to string him along. He opens his wallet for you as easily as you open your legs for him.

But that’s just part of the agreement, you remind yourself, petting the silky sleeve like it’s a cat. Stop thinking about him. Focus on other things.

You lift your gaze towards the door.

I wonder what Riddle’s up to. We were supposed to meet up on Saturday. He’s probably angry I couldn’t make it. Or maybe he’s worried I’m not showing up to work. Shaking your head, you scoff bitterly. No, he’s not worried. He’s Riddle. He never worries about distractions like me. He has everything laid out so perfectly. You toy with one of the exquisite cuffs on the jacket, twisting it between your fingers. I guess when you’re that meticulous you never have to worry about anything because, no matter what happens, you’re following a familiar schedule. So even if things don’t go to plan, you can just move to the next item on your list.

You slouch against the wall and sigh.

Maybe it’s better to live repetitive days. It’s boring, but it’s safe.

Before you can start weighing the positives and negatives to that thought, a noise from below resounds. You scramble away from the sink, mindful of your bandaged ankle, and force yourself flat like a pancake, your ear pressed against the tiles. The air is still, your breath is hitched, and then there are footsteps. Four in total. You assume he’s taking off his shoes because there’s a disconcerting quiet that follows. Seconds later, you strain to hear the door as it shuts and locks with a click.

And then there is more silence.

Something’s not right, you think, chewing your lip. Anxiety bubbles in your blood, volcanically volatile. He’s not coming upstairs.

You push yourself up onto your arms and retreat to the space between the bathtub and sink.

He always comes upstairs to check on me when he gets home. Right away. So why isn’t he? What’s going on? You shake your head and dig your nails into your arms. Don’t panic. Maybe he’s preparing another meal? But he usually eats before work. At least, that’s what he’s done with me ever since the first day. Maybe he didn’t have work. Maybe he went out to do something. But what? Cover his tracks? Kill someone? Make sure there are no witnesses from that night? Kill someone? Your grip on Azul’s jacket tightens. Relax. Take a breath and think about it logically. He can’t do anything rash. Not when he’s just kidnapped me. Someone must have made a missing report by now, so he has to be careful.

Your eyes slide about the room, inspecting the framed sketches once more. What if it’s the afternoon? He could make up any time he wants and I’d have no choice but to believe him. He could’ve gone out for lunch, or he met up with Azul for the daily walks we usually do. Right. Azul. He has to know something’s up. He has to… Wait.

The realization is glacial, stabbing through your skull mercilessly: He won’t suspect anything because disappearing like this is a routine he’s all too familiar with. In his eyes, I’m just—

Footsteps on the stairs shake you from your theorizing, and you brace yourself for the sight of him. You hope to shrink yourself to a size so small and imperceivable that no one, not even the most keen, cutthroat killer, could find you. You succeed in huddling in on yourself, a ball of tightened nerves just waiting to unfurl at the slightest hint of danger. Sweat beads on your brow and slithers down your spine. The hair on your body stands on end, as if expecting the swift strike of a terrifying tragedy.

Something’s not right.

The knob turns. There he stands in the sliver of space between door and bedroom, backdropped by dim lamplight. He’s dressed plainly in a black hoodie and sweatpants of the same color. It’s arguably the most casual you’ve ever seen him look. And in his arms, held bridal style and slumped like a boneless fish, is a woman.

Your gaze is drawn to the way her shirt stretches tautly over her abdomen—over the rounded dome that is her stomach—and dread crystallizes your blood. Suppressing a shiver, you meet his stare. A smile slowly crawls onto his lips, and then he steps deeper into the bathroom, pulling the shower curtain aside and lowering the woman into the tub. Tape is plastered to her mouth, and her wrists and legs are bound with expert knots. Just looking at her and the state she’s in makes you sick with discomfort.

“Who… W-Who the hell is that?”

“A roommate,” he replies, all too smooth. “It’s only temporary, so you needn’t get so territorial.”

There’s no way. He’s actually planning to…

Bile rises in your throat, and before you can stop yourself you’re leaning over the toilet to retch. Saliva dribbles down your chin, landing in the bowl below in a downpour of gross, acidic rain. A petrifying tremor shudders through your body, and you steady yourself against the toilet, coughing until tears gather in your vision and your throat aches. You smack your hand against the handle to flush the physical manifestations of your horror away. Down it goes, never to be seen again.

“Your little parasite doesn’t seem very fond of her,” Jade remarks, standing over you like a patient reaper of death. “There can only be room for one, no?”

You crane your neck to peer at him. “F-Fuck you.”

He smiles thinly, his eyes creasing with manufactured mirth. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Coincidence, my ass.” With a dark scowl, you wipe the spit from your mouth with a shaky hand. You drag yourself away from the toilet, tasting residual vomit on your tongue. “You can’t hurt her. She… She’s pregnant, Jade. There’s no way you can—”

“She isn’t you. If I recall, I only agreed to keep you alive.” Jade slips his gloves off, drapes them in the basin, and then lathers his hands with soap. His movements are mechanically meticulous, as if these motions have been preprogrammed. Even the way he dries his hands is unnatural. Too prim. Too perfect. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s nothing like you.”

“Why? Because she didn’t kick your ass when you showed up to kidnap her?”

Jade exhales an amused breath. “Of course not.” His eyes frost over when he turns his stare on you. “She never got the chance. Besides, if my ass had been sufficiently kicked, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I hope you choke on a fingerbone.”

“That would be most unfortunate. I’ll be sure to eat carefully.”

Peering at himself in the mirror, he smooths his hair down. You didn’t realize it was tousled to begin with. Now that you’re looking, his entire person seems…messy. Even that stray strand falls on the wrong side.

He definitely didn’t go to work, you conclude, studying his features from behind. He’s too casual. It’s hard to imagine Jade in anything other than uniforms. Did he go out with that lady? Maybe not. He seems like the type to dress nicely for dates. So a sweatshirt and sweatpants… They’re both easy to move around in, and he’s wearing dark colors to blend into the night. Did he grab her when she was least expecting it? He said she wasn’t given a chance to fight back, so a struggle was nonexistent.

You shake your head, unsatisfied with your deduction. I’m missing something. His appearance is messy, but he’s always so clean. So why is he messy? This isn’t making sense.

“How’d you find her? You must’ve planned this in advance.”

“I assure you I’m not seeing other women behind your back.”

“Like hell I’m jealous, you creep.”

He chuckles and leans against the sink, his arms folding easily. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” “Magicians and murderers are two different things.”

“Aren’t they skilled in making things vanish? Both captivate their respective audiences as well.”

“Do you not see how vastly different the two are?” Groaning, you rest your head against the wall. “Did you seduce her?”

“Someone’s curious.”

“What’s her name? Do you even know where she’s from or what she’s been through? You’re taking an entire life away, Jade.”

“Two, actually.”

“That’s even worse! Do you hear yourself right now? You’re insane!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that your morals might not have any influence on what I do?”

He’s doing this on purpose. He could’ve brought anyone home, but it just had to be a pregnant lady.

“You’re sick.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“No sane, healthy person would do this.”

Jade feigns a sad pout and wipes nonexistent tears from his eyes. “To hear you say such things… My heart breaks.”

I hope someone chops you up, you lunatic! Then you can know what it’s like!

“So what’s the plan? She’s stuck here like me?”

“Not for long.”

“You’re really going to kill her?”

“Is that not obvious?”

You glance at the tub. I have to do something. But what? You look around the bathroom, eyeing the frames, the sink, the toilet, the walk-in shower, the tiled floor… Can I kill him? Shatter one of the pictures, grab the biggest shard of glass, and then—

Jade bends down to your height. “You needn’t look so pensive. There’s nothing you can do, and if you try anything I’ll be sure to slaughter you in the most gruesome way at the end of these nine months.” He smiles like it’s not the most sinister threat. “And I’ll watch you bleed out slowly while I cut your skin away in delicate slivers. So if you value a quick, painless death, do yourself a favor and keep your hands to yourself.”

You drag your legs into your chest. You sick freak. His eyes crawl down your face to observe your bandaged ankle. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“That should be enough of a reminder.”

“I’m not stupid. I’m not going to do anything. I can’t.”

I want to, though. I have to.

But there’s the shackle and the chain, restricting your movement and trapping you in the bathroom. There’s also the very heartless serial killer, who values your life as much as one does a meal. Voraciously. That’s as far as his sympathy extends. He doesn’t care about you or your nonexistent baby. You’re not even a person.

To him, you’re just supermarket meat plucked from the street. The most dangerous game he’s ever hunted.

“Good to know.” Pleased with your submission, he rises to his usual height and makes for the door. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Allow me to retrieve some painkillers.”

“If it puts me to sleep—”

“Rest assured. I have no intention of doing that. Too much and you may never wake again. That, and I’d prefer a meal without unnecessary baggage.”

“Then don’t drug me if you want fresh, healthy meat.”

He says nothing, merely smiling in reply, and departs through his bedroom. You listen to his retreating steps and then, after determining he’s made it downstairs, you drag yourself over to the tub. You yank the tarp-turned-curtain aside and peer down at her.

“Excuse me?” You reach in to nudge her arm. “Miss, are you awake? Please wake up.”

She doesn’t stir. Your gaze sweeps over her face. She doesn’t look bruised or battered. In fact, she’s in much nicer shape than you were when Jade took you.

It couldn’t have been a date or any sort of formal event. Not by chance either… So what is it? What am I not seeing?

You stare at her bump and frown. I’m pretending to be in her position, but she’s actually pregnant. If anyone deserves to get out of this alive, it’s her and her baby.

You shake that thought out of your head next, replacing it with something detached. You have to be logical. In tragic situations, it’s everyone for themself. What if your roles were swapped? Would she feel the same? You’d hope so, but maybe she’d be just like you—someone who’d do anything to survive, even if that was at the cost of another’s sacrifice. It’s not fair, but there’s nothing you can do. She’s doomed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, curling your fingers around the lip of the tub.

I can’t watch an innocent woman die. I have to do something.

Footsteps draw near. You scramble to your corner. Jade returns with two tablets and a glass of water. You down the painkillers in one gulp.

If it knocks me out, at least I won’t have to see anything.

You rest your forehead against your knees. “I wish Azul was here.”

Why am I saying that? Do I really want him here? Maybe Cater would be better. Or Riddle. Anyone but Azul.

“My apologies. The withdrawal must make you feel immensely itchy.” He peers at the tub. You realize you forgot to pull the tarp back to its original place. “Consider this the beginning of your detox.”

“You’re selfish, you know that? I have my entire life ahead of me. I have—” you rub the cold sapphire set into the ring on your finger— “I had a wedding to look forward to. Someone I was going to marry. A baby! And you…” Before you can stop yourself, the tears are falling. Weeks of pent-up emotions overflow. You wipe hopelessly at your face, feeling pathetic for crying in front of him when he could care less, but the rivers continue running. “Y-You fucking took that away from me! And I can’t—it’s all so you can feed yourself.”

You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes and weep like a child. The voice in your head soothes you: You have time. You can still get out of this.

When you pull your arms away, you find Jade gazing at you. “If I’m as selfish as you say, what does that make you?” He pulls his sweatshirt up and over his head, and then you see it. The dress shirt.

A pit opens in your stomach. You feel sickness scraping at your throat again, and the sensation persists when he shucks his sweats next.

All this time, he was in formal attire…

“I have no interest in your affair with Azul. Rather, I find the entire thing quite circular. You were loosely attached once, but now you’re engaged. And then what? Are you going to run away when he does something unfavorable? You have the makings of a most atrocious bride.” Casually, as if this is a conversation held over afternoon tea, Jade folds the clothes and sets them on the towel rack. “I suppose that is just the nature of love. You return like the leashed pet you are and you let him love you because you are just as foolishly fond.”

That’s not true. You’re wrong. I don’t love him. I’ve never loved him.

“Ah, but this is just mere speculation based on what I’ve witnessed.”

“Stalker.”

“Not quite. Do you know how many times I’ve helped you—drunk, dazed, vulnerable you—and you never thought otherwise? I put you to bed. I did your laundry. I stayed by your side and cooked breakfast in the wake of your hangover. For so many years, I’ve beheld the (Name) who thinks she’s loved by all because she doesn’t love herself enough.” At your horrified expression, he laughs. “You like to babble when you’re inebriated. It’s very entertaining… What was it you told me a few months ago? That you’re a nothing human with an empty, ugly heart who isn’t worthy of Azul’s boundless generosity. That you pawn it for lust disguised as love because you can’t afford the real thing. That you—”

He sidesteps the glass you throw at him. It hits the floor and shatters with a splash. Glass shards slide across slick tiles. He watches you silently, his countenance unreadable.

“Shut up!” Odium darkens your face. You inhale a ragged breath, collecting what’s left of your tattered ego, and add in a shaky voice, “You don’t know me. You’ve never known me.”

“Perhaps not.” Jade leans down to smile at you. He’s close, but he doesn’t touch you. You challenge him with a mean scowl. “But I will soon.”

Before you can question that, a soft groan interrupts your discussion. Your head snaps over in the direction of the tub. Jade does much the same, only he moves slower. There’s a pregnant pause, tension crackling in the air, and then there’s movement. The woman struggles in the bath, her screams muffled against the tape. You wince, understanding her horror.

I know what that’s like.

Jade helps her sit up. She resists, shaking her head desperately and shrinking away from his hands as if they’re something monstrous. They are, technically. Her eyes meet yours then. Even though it’s a wordless exchange, everything you need to know shines on her tear-stained face. Her brows are pinched together in stressed disbelief. She’s trembling.

“If you promise to be quiet, I’ll remove the tape.”

Upon hearing that familiar phrase, you shudder. It seems to have the same effect on the woman. She looks at him and whimpers.

“P-Please listen to him,” you speak up, nodding encouragingly. “Don’t fight. It’ll make it worse.”

She spots your bandaged ankle and gazes at Jade with new terror shining in her brown eyes. They’re very pretty. Big and beautiful, almost like marbles. To think the last things she’ll ever see with such doll-like eyes are a hungry monster and a hapless captive.

Jade peels the tape off slowly and, unlike you, she keeps her mouth shut. A wise decision. You don’t want to think about what he might do to keep her quiet.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jade sets the sliver of tape aside. “Now then, I believe introductions are in order.”

“I… I don’t understand,” she whispers, pressing herself against a corner of the tub. “Why am I here? You told me you’d take me to a doctor. Y-You said you’d help me—”

“He’s a liar.” You fold your arms over your chest and huff. The woman’s expression falls. “It’s not your fault. I thought he was good, too.”

“So then—I’m just—why am I here? W-Why are you here?”

Jade steps in front of you to block your view of the distraught woman. “(Name) is my housemate—”

“Not by choice.”

“Still a housemate nonetheless,” he continues. “You’re here because I’m in need of a meal.”

“You’re…hungry? Is that… You’re serious? Is that really what this is about?” She shifts awkwardly in her restraints. You feel bad for her, even more so when you catch the hope bleeding into her voice. “Then, if that’s the case, I’ll cook something for you and you can let me go!”

Jade shakes his head.

You peer past his legs at her. “He’s going to kill and eat you.”

He frowns at you. “And I was intending to bask in the suspense…”

“You’re the worst. Genuinely.”

“I don’t understand… You’re…” She looks between you and Jade. Her eyes gloss over with fresh tears. “You’re going to kill me…”

“Indeed. Ah, but don’t look so disheartened. So long as you continue being good, I’ll grant you a painless death.”

“N-No way… I… I don’t wanna die. Please. M-My baby—I can’t—”

She breaks off with a choked sob. You watch her crumble without a word. It hurts to see her shoulders shake with every rattling inhale. It hurts even more knowing you’re just as stuck but temporarily spared. You glance at Jade to gauge his reaction. Like always, it’s impossible to read him. He’s always been like that, even before you found yourself trapped here. Smiling so sweetly, as if he isn’t a murderer, he would speak to you like a normal person, tease you like a friend, care for you when Azul couldn’t. You were so certain he was your friend—not just by way of association through Azul either.

He hid it—this massive, life-altering skeleton—like an expert. How did you miss it? What did you fail to catch?

Nothing. Because he never gave any indication of what was locked up behind unassuming closet doors.

Now you know better. So does this woman.

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise I won’t, so please let me go. Please, sir. My baby…”

Jade remains unfazed. “(Name) already tried those lines. Care to guess how well they worked?”

Landed me nine months on death row.

She hangs her head in defeat. “I can’t believe it… I’m actually… This is it.”

You rest your head against the wall and sigh. Jade stares a moment longer before striding to the door.

“I’ll give you time to get acquainted.”

With that, he shuts the door. It’s very obviously a test. He’s probably waiting on the other side, listening in to learn what sort of incriminating information you might share. Not that it matters if she hears it. She’ll take all of this new knowledge to the grave or, in more literal terms, Jade’s stomach.

“I’m sorry you’re caught up in this,” you murmur, tracing invisible circles into the floor. “What’s your name?”

“M-Marisa.”

You glance at her. “It’s beautiful just like you.”

“Oh. Well, t-thank you.” She offers you a shy smile. “My mother named me after the sea. It was her favorite place to visit whenever she needed inspiration. She was an artist, and the sea was her biggest muse.”

“That’s sweet. I wish I knew the lore behind my name.”

“It’s still pretty without the backstory.”

“I guess so.”

I never really put much thought into my name. Does it matter if it’s pretty or ugly?

“Actually… It’s kinda ironic. I don’t like the sea. It scares me, so I stay away from it.”

“The sea itself or what’s in it?”

“Both?” She attempts an awkward shrug. “There are scarier things out there, but there’s something unsettling about the ocean. Maybe I’m silly for thinking that.”

“You’re not. It’s normal to be scared of things we don’t understand.” Like right now. But you keep that part to yourself. “I can’t relate. I love the sea. The lost history, the creatures, the mysteries… It’s all so fascinating.”

“Really? You’re braver than I am!”

“I’m just way too passionate. That’s all.”

Am I? I said I’d be a marine biologist and that’s what I’ve been studying all this time. But…

Marisa sighs. “You’re lucky. I’ve always wanted to find something I could be passionate about.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something one day.” And then you pause. “Or… Um.”

She pastes another hollow smile on her face. “I thought I could be passionate about school, but I couldn’t do it. I dropped out and tried a few jobs. Everyone told me it’d be easier to get married instead of running around like a headless chicken, but that didn’t feel right. I thought I’d be passionate about things like motherhood and babies, but I dunno. I’m already so far along, but I haven’t felt anything yet. No excitement or anxiety. Just emptiness. And I know that’s a terrible thing to feel and think—we’re supposed to love the things we create! I don’t even think I truly love my boyfriend. I’m horrible—I know!”

“You’re not horrible. The truth is—” You stop yourself before the words can slip out. I don’t love Azul. I’m not even pregnant. “I don’t know if you’ll ever figure any of that out, but I know you’re a good person. You obviously care about these things. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so worried.”

Marisa sniffles. “Thanks…”

“I can help you find your passion. There’s so much to do in the city. I’m sure something will catch your interest. Oh! Have you ever been to Siren’s Heartache? It’s a karaoke place. My friend and I used to go all the time.”

“I’ve been there once!”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? My friend would order the craziest stuff off their menu. He hates sweets, but he’d get all kinds of sugary drinks and snacks for the hell of it. Said it didn’t matter because it’d look cute on camera, so no one needed to know if he enjoyed it.”

“He did it for the pictures? That’s it?”

“Yep! He loves photography. He’ll do anything to make sure he gets the best angles and lighting.”

“Wow… I don’t think I could be that dedicated.”

“No? Then what about schedules? My other friend used to be on these super rigid schedules. I’m sure he’s still on them now, but back then it was really suffocating. He’s always been so organized, though. It’s impressive.”

“Isn’t that too restrictive? Doesn’t he have any time for fun?”

“Would that be better? A free life filled with ups and downs or a rigid life you can plan around?”

“Both sound just as bad.”

“Isn’t that just life?”

She breathes a sardonic laugh. “From a pessimist’s perspective, sure.”

“What kind of life would you want?”

“Is it bad to say I want something easy?”

“No fair. You totally stole my answer!”

“Then maybe we’re both bad.”

“Yeah…” You stretch your legs out and flex your toes on your good foot. If that’s bad, then I’m the worst. “I guess we are.”

She giggles. “You’re supposed to disagree!”

“Oh, oops. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t think it’s so bad to want an easy life. If it were up to me, I’d want it to be like one giant tea party. That way everyone can come together for tea and tiny cakes.”

“And you wouldn’t have to work, so who cares if you’re rich or poor!”

“Exactly! There aren’t any expectations. You can be good or bad. Empty like me or passionate like you. It’s all just conversation at the end of the day.” She gazes at you, and her features relax into a real smile. “I wish we could’ve met sooner. You seem like a fun friend.”

Am I really? I feel like I’ve been nothing but trouble for Riddle and Azul. Even Cater…

You hum your acknowledgement before nodding towards her belly. “Have you thought of any names?”

“Nothing yet. I’m not very creative and I don’t want anything basic either. Something memorable would suffice.”

“Like your name.”

“Right! Only nothing connected to the sea.” Marisa chuckles sheepishly. “It wouldn’t mean anything to me.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything significant. As long as it comes from the heart and you like it, it should be fine. At least, I think that’s how it works.”

“I have no idea. This is my first time.”

You nod. Somehow it feels like I’m indirectly lying to her…

“You’ll find a name that sticks one day. When you do, let’s get together and celebrate.”

“At the Siren’s Heartache?”

“Wherever you’d like.”

She gasps. “How about a tearoom? There’s this really cute one just outside the city. I go there all the time. The owners are the nicest people I’ve ever met! If we go, we can have our own tea party. You can bring your friend who likes photography. I’m sure he’ll get lots of pretty pictures.”

That’s impossible. We both know there’s no chance of—

“Marisa!” She startles at the urgency in your tone. You look and sound as if you’ve just cracked a cold case. “That’s it!”

“What is?”

“Your passion! Tea parties!”

“I always thought that was more of a hobby…”

“You can be passionate about hobbies. I’ve never gone to a tea party myself and I don’t know what that involves aside from drinking tea and eating snacks, but it sounds like a good time.”

“Oh, it’s the best time! I love dressing up for it, too. On nights when I knew I’d be going the next day, I arranged my outfit in advance. What jewelry I’d wear, what makeup I’d put on, what purse I’d bring… I could spend hours trying on my clothes and picking different pieces. And their afternoon tea sets—they’re everything! You have to try it if you go! I love their egg sandwiches. Well, everything they serve is delicious.”

Your lips quirk up in a playful grin. “See? You’re not empty.”

Stunned, Marisa sits there in the bath. “You’re right,” she mumbles. “I never realized it, but I love tea parties. I love talking with people over food and drinks. I guess it came so easy to me and I did it so often that I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Maybe we can add ‘socialization’ to the list of passions?”

She laughs, her hair bouncing with the movement. It comes right from her chest—authentic amusement—and it’s a musical sound. You wish there was another way. Jade may have shown you mercy, but you’re certain it won’t be the same for her. Even with these unlucky odds, you’re determined to try. It’s the only thing you can do. Try and hope that something goes well.

You gesture for Marisa to turn around. She almost questions you, but you hold your index up to shush her. She stares at you, her lips pressed in a tight line, and nods her understanding. As quietly as she can, she shuffles in the tub until her back is facing you.

“Hey, what’s this tearoom called again?” you ask as you reach for the biggest glass shard.

“It’s called Portobello.”

“Like the mushroom?”

“Mhm! It’s forest-themed. They’re famous for their chaga tea.”

“Huh…”

Of course it’s mushrooms. You glance at the door. Do you hear that, you freak? Sounds like the perfect place for a mushroom fanatic like yourself.

“Do you like mushrooms?”

“They’re okay. I don’t eat them often. I have so many other foods I prefer…” You trail off as you saw through thick rope with the jagged glass. “Actually, there was this one time I got fried chicken from the city. I was stupid drunk and nothing was open, so my fiancé took me to a convenience store. It was cheap, but it was so yummy! I guess everything is when you’re that gone… Anyway, he was so mortified when I woke up the next morning wanting more. That was the only thing I remembered from that night.”

“Why was he so embarrassed? I think convenience store food is great!”

“Right? You understand it.” You sigh and shake your head, recalling that memory with startling clarity. “Azul is… It’s hard to explain.”

“But you’re engaged?”

“I’m crazy, aren’t I? Marrying a man who gets flustered over fried chicken from the convenience store. He ate it in a fancy suit, too. What a weirdo.”

“He sounds funny.”

“The funniest. It was our first year together as…contractual obligations. He was so determined to make a good impression that he banned junk food from his life. We broke that dumb rule that night. I think that was the first time I saw the real him. He’s cute when he blushes.”

“Contractual obligations? Why not partners?”

You cough awkwardly. “J-Just an inside joke. He’s a businessman.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” She flexes her fingers just as you manage to cut through the first knot. “That’s sweet.”

“What?”

“You and him.”

“What about us?” Your hand hesitates, gripping the shard with new force. Any tighter and you might slice your palm open.

“You must’ve been so hungry, and he went out of his way to make sure you were fed even if it meant breaking his rule.”

“That was just—he hates having to owe people stuff. He was just repaying a favor.”

“My mother used to tell me a good man will visit for your best, but a great man will stay for your worst and everything in between.”

“I…guess.”

No way Azul likes me at my worst.

You shut your mouth and resume your previous motions. With her hands now freed, you lean over the tub to work on the rope binding her ankles.

“What about your boyfriend? You said you’re not sure if you love him?”

“I don’t know what I want. We’re happy being together without any rings or ceremonies, but I feel like that’s not enough. I feel like I’m not enough.”

“Maybe you should take your mother’s advice.”

“I will when you do.”

“H-Hey!”

She giggles. “I’m kidding. I think… I’m glad you have someone who cares. It’s no fun being alone all the time. Sometimes it’s good to share your peace with others, even if that’s getting fried chicken from the convenience store with a weird guy on a chaotic night.”

You laugh, but it comes out choked.

Yeah, Azul’s weird.

And then the first tear lands on her foot. It isn’t long before more rush forth, blurring your vision. You manage to cut her free from the rope just before it becomes impossible to see clearly. When you meet her stare next, she smiles. It’s strained with sorrow.

Why are you crying? She’s just a stranger.

You throw your arms around her and sob quietly into her shoulder. She runs her hand along your back. It’s meant to soothe, but all it does is remind you of the limited time you have with her.

I’m crying because she’s a stranger. Because she’s someone I’ll never be able to know more than this.

“Escape,” you whisper as you pull away, pressing the shard into her hand. “And when you do, wait for me and we’ll have our giant tea party.”

She nods, her eyes shimmering with sadness. “You can count on it.”

When Jade returns, syringe in hand, it’s to a room of suffocating silence. You’ve no idea what its liquid contents are, but it can’t be very pleasant or safe. Regardless, you don’t intend to find out. He steps through the door, looks squarely at you, and smiles. Your skin crawls.

Calm down. It’ll be okay.

“You took your time.”

“Did I? My apologies if I kept you waiting.”

“Have you ever had mushroom tea before?”

He pauses. “Mushroom tea?”

So he wasn’t listening in. Either that, or he’s just hesitating for effect.

“I’ve never had it before, but I’d assume someone with your palate would’ve tried it.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Is there a reason for this assumption?”

“You like mushrooms. Sounds like something that’d be right up your alley.”

“You would be correct.” Jade taps the needle, eyeing the liquid within the plastic cylinder. “I’ve had it before, yes.”

“Was it good?”

“Quite.”

His gaze drifts towards the empty tub and you panic. “W-Will you bring some for me to try?”

He blinks at you. An amused smile pulls his lips apart.

You can’t stop the scowl that forms on your face. “I can’t control what the baby wants.”

Just a little longer… Keep your eyes on me.

“I’d love nothing more for you to try it.”

“But?”

“But there isn’t nearly enough credible information detailing whether chaga is safe to consume while pregnant. It would be very unfortunate if you injured your parasite on account of my negligence.”

“Someone did their research.”

“Indeed.”

“So what’s a good substitute? I want mushroom tea.”

“Pouting about it won’t fix anything.” He reaches to pull the curtain away, and you lurch forwards. The chain rattles. You pause with outstretched arms. Jade watches you with a frown. “Is something the matter?”

You lower your arms. “No… N-No, sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just…hungry.”

“As am I, so if you could stop stalling for her sake I would appreciate it.”

A bone-chilling cold blankets the bathroom.

Your laugh comes out brittle. “Who’s stalling?”

It happens so fast you wish it was slow motion. Maybe then your reaction time would’ve been better. Marisa springs out from behind the door just as Jade turns to view her. She shoves him with as much strength as she can muster, swiping at him with the glass shard. Somehow she manages to drive it into his arm. Taken by surprise, he grunts and shakes her off. The syringe clatters to the floor and you dive to snatch it before he can. With Jade temporarily thrown off, Marisa flees from the room as quickly as she can. You look on with wide eyes, the syringe clutched in a tight fist.

She’s doing it… She’s actually escaping!

Jade curls his fingers around the glass lodged in his skin and rips it out. Blood spurts from the cut, crawling down his arm in a red slither. The chunk rests on the tiles in front of you, and it fills you with a proud satisfaction knowing he’s injured, if only partially. By the time you’ve blinked, he’s already hurrying towards Marisa. She’s about to wrench the bedroom door open, her freedom just beyond the confines of his home, but he seizes her wrist and yanks her away.

Just like the syringe in your hand, your heart drops.

She yelps and twists in his hold, flailing blindly. The scene is eerily reminiscent of your scuffle with Jade—the one you’d gotten into when he revealed himself as the intruder in your apartment. You were drunk then, wholly incapable of fending him off, but Marisa isn’t. She has a chance. She can escape. There has to be a way for—

You watch her fall, cringing at the resonating thud as her back makes contact with the floorboards. Jade’s hands are around her throat before you even know it.

“N-No… Wait. Wait, stop!” You lurch towards them, but the chain only allows you to go so far. You strain against the pull, grabbing at the door frame in hopes of breaking out of the shackle’s restrictive hold. “Jade—”

Marisa’s choked gasp cuts you off. You stare at her hands as they claw at Jade’s in animalistic desperation. Her eyes are so wide you see white; her mouth is open in a silent scream. With Jade on top of her, pinning her to the floor and squeezing her neck with ruthless precision, she can only kick her legs out and produce a haunting garble of sounds as she battles an impossible enemy.

“Stop! Let go of her!”

You grit your teeth and tug against the cuff. It digs into your skin and leaves you aching from the sting. Tears sprout along your lash line, and you cry out in pained frustration. Your agony doesn’t reach Jade’s ears. Or maybe it does and he’s just tuning it out. You’re unsure until you catch sight of his expression. A blank, empty slate—that’s what he is. There’s something murderous smoldering in terrifying two-toned eyes, but his lips are pressed in a firm pout and his brows are pinched together. Not from any sort of distress but, rather, from the physical exertion. His forearms flex, every muscle riddled with tense adrenaline, and his fingers dig into her throat to cut her circulation.

From where you stand, struggling against your restraints, you think his pupils are blown wide. He looks predatory. Unhinged in a feral sort of way. Like a wild animal who’s just pounced on his prey…

A wild animal. That’s what he is right now. Something unbound by human morals and law. A creature led only by instinct—by the intrinsic desire to slaughter and feast.

“Jade!” You give another determined tug to no avail. “Jade, please—you can’t do this! She’s pregnant! She has a boyfriend—a life! You can’t!”

Your voice is shrill, scratching through your vocal chords as if it intends to shred them to ribbons. You’ve never heard yourself sound so panicked before. Never known the crushing devastation of being so close and yet so powerless.

No matter how much you scream, Jade continues to strangle her. You can’t bear to watch any longer. Sinking to the floor, you lean against the wall and press your hands to your ears. You don’t want to hear Marisa’s wheezing breaths. You don’t want to see her struggle. You don’t want to see Jade as he kills her in front of you.

You don’t want to be a witness. You want out.

After minutes of torturous asphyxiation, her thread of life is snipped and she finally fades away. Moments later, urine soaks through her shorts and pools beneath her in a puddle. You look up just in time to see him release her and rise to his full height. Heaving a sigh, Jade tucks his dark hair strand behind his ear. Marisa lies lifeless, a husk of the once bright, bubbly woman you interacted with before this. Now she’s gone.

“Y-You’re a monster…” you manage through thick, anguished sobs.

He killed her. She’s…dead. Jade killed her. I just watched her die and there was nothing I could do and I…let it happen.

“This could’ve been avoided. I was going to give her an easy death, but you forced my hand.” Jade steps around you to pick the syringe up. “Let’s add another rule to our list. Seeing as I’m not allowed to touch you, it’s only fair that you keep your nose out of my work in return.”

Dead… She’s dead. Marisa is…

“Does that sound agreeable, (Name)?”

There’s a ringing in your ears—the warning tick of a clock or the foreboding chime of a death knell. Amidst every overwhelming sensation and haywire emotion, self-preservation echoes in your head: I’ve got to get out of here.

You blink through blurring vision. Are you crying? Numbly, you touch your face. The tears are there, wetting your cheeks in copious amounts. Something’s scratching at the back of your eyes. It’s not enough to feel like sleep, but it’s a familiar sensation. You’re certain you’ve felt it before. But when?

You can’t stop crying.

She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.

You suck in gulps of air.

I should’ve done more. I could’ve done more! There had to have been something—logically. You have to look at it logically. She was doomed to die the moment Jade brought her here.

You dig your nails into your arms.

We were going to have a tea party. I was going to help her find more passions. We were going to be friends…

You watch Jade bend down to her height and press two fingers to her neck. Suddenly, there are two Jades and both are tilting. He glances at you, but his words don’t reach your ears.

I was going to save her.

Your head hits the floor with a thump. The world goes dark.

Unlike previous times, the dream aquarium is bursting with life today. Moon jellyfish float peacefully behind sturdy glass. A manta ray glides smoothly through the water in laps. Fish of all colors and shapes are caught up in the current. The glow from the tanks dyes the hall in a cool ultramarine.

It’s quiet here. Safe. Comforting.

You’re lying on the floor, dressed in a clean hospital gown, and there is an entire galaxy of jellyfish above you. They’re set into the glass ceiling, their translucent bodies bobbing up and down in hypnotic patterns. You blink once and the blue brightens as if breathing alongside you. You blink again and this time a woman pokes her head into your visual field. Her milky-white eyes, though piercing, don’t frighten you. She blinks one eye at a time and her irises explode with color—now a vibrant green. Her long, black hair is tied back in a braid that sweeps over her shoulder. Tiny stars are twined throughout.

When she speaks, she has the same voice as the woman from the intercom.

“Today’s color is blue. As vast and wide as the sky and sea, as deep and dark as water’s soul, blue is the color of trust and sincerity. It is the color of bruises and sadness. It is the color of loneliness. It is the color that has finally led me to you.”

You stare at her, spooked speechless.

“Hello again, (Name).” She smiles and offers her gloved hand. “It’s been a while. Many years, in fact. I thought I’d never be able to catch you.”

You hesitate. Can you trust her—the woman you’ve spent so many dreams pursuing? There’s no one else here in this hall. She’s your only option. Swallowing your fears, you grab her hand and allow her to hoist you to your feet.

“My name is Marmoris. Ah, I must inform you that I’ve taken the form of someone familiar, so please note that this isn’t the current me. My true form is…not very pleasant. I wouldn’t want to startle you with it.”

“The current you? Your true form?” You draw away from her and bump into the tank behind you. Turning around, you gaze at the image slowly forming within murky waters. It’s…Jade’s bathroom. And there’s Jade, stooped over Marisa’s corpse. He’s looking at you next. You place your hand against the glass, but the scene doesn’t disappear. “W-What is this? What’s going on?”

Marmoris joins you at the tank. Her reflection warps with a myriad of aquatic traits. At one point, you think you see fins where her ears ought to be—shadows of wispy tendrils where her lab coat once was. “You’ll have to forgive me. There was no other way. You’ve already seen too much.” She shuffles closer to you. Her hands cover your eyes next. “Please don’t look. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

You squirm out of her hold. The picture presented in saltwater clouds in and out of clarity. “Protect me? I don’t understand. What do you mean by—”

“There’s not much time. I can’t keep you in here any longer than I already have.” She grabs hold of your hands and squeezes them. She looks sincere enough, but you can’t get past the fact that, though she claimed to take on the appearance of someone familiar, you can’t recognize this woman’s features.

She’s a stranger.

Before you can protest further, Marmoris leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead. Her lips are frigid. The transient security of the desolate dream aquarium melts away, taking you with it.

“I promise I’ll explain everything the next time we meet. When we do, look for me. I’ll be waiting.”

You jerk awake with a gasp. Your hands fly to your throat on instinct. Slowly, while catching your breath, you peer around the bathroom. Marisa has been moved to the tub and Jade’s in the process of cleaning the floor. He glances at you. His arm is bandaged.

“Welcome back.”

You shoot him a withering look. “Eat glass and die.”

“Wouldn’t that please you?”

“It would,” you whisper weakly, more tears spilling over. “It really would.”

For the first time in a while, you can’t recall any slivers of your dream.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade #yandere jade x reader #death row undertow #death row undertow chapter eight #serial killer jade

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