#Ginger x Rum

[forthelostones]

let's celebrate you ─── ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ 🪩 ˚ afab!reader x sub!ellie ⋆ 🪩 ୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡

" its time i turn these lights low "

synopsis: your birthday was a special one with a different kind of treat.

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!ellie, loser!ellie, fingering & cunnilingus (e! receiving), dina ft, drinking, & grinding.

an: hi everyone, thanks for all the love on my other works! if u have any requests let me know! edited this on the fly >.< ; enjoy!

(no y/n)

wc: 2.2k

♪ playlist: misty ( lesly gore ), but not kiss ( faye webster ), what kinda of love ( childish gambino ), smile more ( syd ) ♪

your birthday was coming up and Dina had promised to make it a special one. you really didn’t mind having just a small dinner, and maybe a cake, but she insisted on something more. she didn’t tell you any of the details, just that you should look your best and not worry. you tended to be on the more anxious side so this was difficult. you appreciated the efforts but felt reluctant to not think of every single detail. 

after getting dressed you went to Dina’s where music was already vibrating the floorboards of the front porch. upon entering you saw everyone circling the entryway and smiling as they cheered “happy birthday!” you awkwardly cuddled your arm as you silently thanked them. immediately, Dina comes to hug you tightly, you inhale the familiarity and watch everyone disperse except for one person. 

“ellie. hey.” you mutter as Dina releases you from her arms. 

“happy birthday, um…” she rubs the back of her neck softly. 

she was wearing all black, head to toe, with the exception of a silly rainbow party hat that Dina probably put on her. when she noticed she still had it on she ripped it off quickly and fiddled with it in her hands. 

“right, um, you look nice.” she smiles warmly. 

“thanks els, why don’t we go and get you something to drink?” 

ellie and you were in the same advanced planetary astronomy course. you spent a lot of time together studying for exams and even lab partners, but outside of that you really didn’t hang out with her. you wished you did though. during some late nights she’d reveal small parts of her life and you just wanted to put your assignments away and indulge in her. 

“i don’t see how you can listen to music while doing this.” you mention.

this was a 300-level course and it wasn’t particularly easy, the readings were intense, with a lot of scientific jargon you still had to learn. 

she pulls away headphones away and rolls her eyes. “i mean, it’s just a little something, my working playlist. mostly instrumental.” 

that night she shared the playlist after your study session and you scrolled through her Spotify to see what other artists she listened to. just a small glimpse of her was all you really wanted.  

you both mosey through a crowd of people to get to the kitchen area. everyone saying happy birthday, asking how are you, and pointing you in the direction of your gifts. meanwhile, Ellie just followed shortly behind and was very silent, giving everyone a courtesy smirk. once you reach the kitchen counter covered in various bottles, you make both you and Ellie a suspicious concoction. 

“i don't know if I trust you as a mixologist.” she smiles shyly. 

“what you never had tequila, rum, and a little ginger ale?” 

you both laugh as your faces turn sour at the overly sharp mix. 

the night continues on with Ellie by your side and you both loosen up from the continuous influx of random drinks. you talk about more than class and your horrible professors, she tells you a bit about her music taste, hobbies, and her very visible tattoos. 

“i don’t think I have the pain tolerance to even sit and get something this big.” you say absentmindedly dragging the tip of your index finger along her forearm. you were slumped in the corner of the couch and she sat slouched on the arm of the sofa, just above you. 

“uh, uh I mean, I— I took some medicine before and uh,” she looks down to you and once your eyes connect she looks away. “they have this cream, like numbing cream, but I didn’t need that, I just I have a high pain tolerance, I dont know, yea.” 

“hmm, strong els.” your finger continues up her arm. 

Ellie trembles quietly at the static shock traveling through her body. you look up to her as her eyes follow your finger tracing along her skin, she inhales deeply and lets out a shaky breath. you feel a pounding start behind your temples and you lay your head on her thigh. 

“my head, ugh.” 

ellie freezes at the simplest touch of you, unsure of where to put her hand she just gently lies it on your back. 

“maybe we had too much of your little potion.” she jokes. 

it hurts to laugh but you manage to get one out. 

“ah, I think I’m gonna stay here,” you say.

“oh, yea, probably me too, I don’t think I could drive home.” 

you look up to her and her face is painted pink at just the smallest connection with you. “come with me.” 

you and Ellie are now in the spare bedroom just across the hall from Dina’s. you flop on the bed and pat beside you to signal Ellie to sit down. 

“should I get Dina? are you okay?” She asks. 

“im fine. um, I really liked my gift by the way.”

of course, she bought you a copy of her favorite comic, savage starlight, and left a sweet note inside the gift bag.

“oh, you saw it? when? we’ve been together all night.” she panicked. 

“when I said I was going to the bathroom.” 

you both share a soft laugh.

“i hope you like it.” 

“im sure I will. thanks, els.” 

her eyes are pooling brightly into yours, stealing a quick glance of your lips. you reach your hand and place it behind her neck, pulling her towards you, and sharing a kiss. 

“yo-you are so welcome.” 

she leans in this time nervously, awaiting another kiss. you guide her hands from the mattress to around your waist, draping your wrists around her neck, tucking her closer into you. you pull away and kiss her cheek, she giggles your lips tickle, and her smile fades and turns into a soft groan as she realizes your lips are trailing towards her neck. her grip becomes firmer around your hips and she unconsciously moves your hips towards her, back and forth. the kisses are cloud-like until you hear your name leave her lips. that’s when you slither your tongue up her neck, sucking and leaving small bite marks on the length of her throat. 

once you come back to her lips, she doesn’t hold back and goes in with her tongue. in between each kiss she tugs at you harder, gets more excited each pass while grunting passionately. your hand grips her leg firmly and drapes it over your lap, where she doesn’t hesitate to start bucking her hips against you. she bites your bottom lip to catch her breath and rubs her nose against yours before going into leaving hickeys on your neck. she’s so desperate that you feel how wet your neck has become from her urgency. you bring your hands down from her lower back to cup her ass as she’s taking in your sweet scent. 

“i need you.” she whispers. 

she doesn’t hesitate to pull her top off and before she can remove her bra you stop her. she smiles at you as you remind her to pace herself. you press your lips against her warm skin trailing to her chest, being careful to not satisfy her so fast. once she’s calmed down you remove her bra and just allow yourself to stare at her perky nipples. she’s now grinding against you slowly in a rhythm. you take your lips and brush them lightly against both of her nipples. you saw her chest rise and fall deeply, overcome with desire. 

you take her lingering hands and press them behind her back, restraining her movements. with your free hand, you place the center of your cold palm against her erect nipple. a gasp catches in her throat at the smallest contact as she tosses her head back. you press up against her body as she fights against your restraint. she leans down to kiss you, but you don’t allow her to. out of frustration, she bites her lips watching your hand move up and down. 

her nipples became puffy from your torture and you finally gave her the satisfaction of wrapping your lips around them. she tried to stifle her moans, shying away, turning her face away from yours, simply embarrassed. once you wet her nipples you sucked them allowing your tongue to brush up against her sensitive buds. 

you turned her over from your lap to where both your pelvis’ were level. she tried to feel you as she spread her legs wider but couldn’t because of her jeans. her face scrunched up as she watched you grind up against her just before you trailed kisses down her belly to her waistline. you stopped before her hipbones that were beckoning you to kiss them, which she shuttered at. as you pulled her pants off, she covered her face with her inked forearm. 

“els.” 

“uhmm yea?” 

“i need you to watch me.” 

“o-ohkay.” 

she removes her arm reluctantly and watches as you press your lips into her inner thigh, still holding eye contact. her hand comes to caress your cheek in an attempt to rush you, but you pay her no mind. you bring your mouth to just rest against her clothed clit and she shutters. 

“ah.” escapes her lips. 

her hips start to rise against your lips pressed into her core. her left hand comes to the top of your head as she grinds harder, she whimpers at the lack of satisfaction. 

“please. fuck.” 

 that's when she ignores you and arches her back farther, slipping her hands into her boxes and begins to massage her clit. her free hand grips the sheets and the sounds of her wetness fill your ears like sweet music. 

“ellie?” you ask, taken aback. 

“yes, y-ees?” 

she doesn’t stop until you physically remove her fingers, you grip her wrist and bring her fingers to her lips. she sucks the taste of herself clean off and you finally slip your hand past her waistband. her hands come up to your biceps, digging into your skin while you toil her wet clit. 

“harder.” she demands, but you pull your hand away, causing her body to jerk violently.

she takes your wrist and guides your fingers up and down her clit. she huffs, with her eyes closed, soaking in the pleasure. At one point she just starts grinding on all four of your fingers. legs spread open, lifting her hips up rhythmically, panting and sweating as she humped your hand. 

just before she came you pulled down her boxers and drank in her red, soaked pussy. the cold air made her twitch under you as you brought your lips to her folds. you were swimming in her warmth as you pecked her opening gently. she moaned at the view of you making out with her pussy, eyes closed, tongue slipping in occasionally, and sipping her up. you did everything in your power to avoid her throbbing clit as you tongued her soaked hole. 

once you finally wrapped your lips around her clit closed her eyes, basking in the relief she felt. as you inhale her legs come closing in on your face, shaking. 

“ellie,” you look up. “relax, im going to let you cum.” 

as she releases the tension from her body your two fingers enter her. she tosses her head to the side at the pressure inside of her, her breathing becoming unstable again. you find her clit in your mouth again and now she’s panting obscenities under her breath. 

“fuck, fuck, ahh, so good. please.” 

mindlessly she just kept moaning like this, throwing your name in the mix too. 

“another,” she said breathlessly. “three, I need another finger, ple-please.” 

she watched you, face wet, eyes drunk from her body, as you slipped in your ring finger, stretching her further. you couldn’t help but stare at her pussy wrapped so tightly but perfectly around your fingers. instead of sliding in and out, you just curled your fingers towards her g-spot, causing tears to pool in the corners of her eyes. 

your tongue flicks her clit harder as you pick up stamina inside of her, she was paralyzed with pleasure, stiffened by her orgasm. once she came over the edge, you kept going, harder, faster, quicker, and her body attempted to fold but you did not falter. with all her strength she uses her hands to lift your head, but her body is weakened. 

you pull your fingers out, causing a pop and she lays, eyes wide looking at the mess you made. she just lies breathless and as you crawl up to kiss her, you pat her dampened cunt causing her to yelp before her lips met yours. 

[takamimami]

congratulations on your 100 followers! woohoo! for the event id like to request fem!reader, prompt “Hmm, is that a threat or a promise?” for my beloved captain kidd

hello anon!! thank you for the submission, I was hoping someone would request this for my little cranky red head :3 I know this one isn't very smut heavy buuuuuuuut someone else's request may or may not be a continuation of this story line... so here's some crumbs while I work on that one :3 hope you enjoy <3

Kidd x F!Reader - NSFW - “Hmm, is that a threat or a promise?” - STORY UNDER THE CUT - MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 🔞 CW: SMUT; cockwarming, reader is a brat, inappropriate use of devil fruit powers, kidd is a lil cranky baby, dom!kidd vibes if you squint, mentions of alcohol consumption ---word count 1.6k

You weren’t sure why you had let Quincy convince you to come out to the tavern tonight, given you planned on being up early the next morning to attend the farmer’s market that was held in town so you could stock up on some things before your crew set sail at the end of the week. Yet, here you were, nursing a glass of rum as you listened to Quincy and House go back and forth about something you couldn’t bother feigning interest in. 

“Hey, Y/N, you good?” 

You snap out of your trance and gaze over to your left, Hip raising a brow at you as she motions down at your drink. 

“Yeah, just getting tired, that’s all.”

Quincy rolls her eyes, reaching over and lifting your glass to your mouth, to which you reluctantly part your lips and gulp the last of the liquid down.

“That’s more like it! You promised you’d party with us tonight! You always drink with the boys when they ask you to,” she teases, nudging your shoulder as you glare at her.

“That’s because the boys like to drink on the ship,” you grumble, scanning the area around your table before your eyes land back on the ginger woman.

“Awh, c’mon, Y/N,” Hip teases, flagging down the bartender to order another round of drinks, “Let loose with us for once, what’s the worst that could happen?”

You smirk and grab a shot glass from the bartender’s tray, deciding one more drink wouldn’t kill you, and it was just enough to give you a bit of a buzz. You grimaced as the liquid burned your throat, and after you all had finished Hop and Quincy jumped up, ushering your whole table out onto the dance floor despite your protests. 

You indulge your friends for a bit, dancing and giggling with them as eyes from all areas of the tavern fall on your group. A couple of the girls play into it, but you pay the onlookers no mind as you actually let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the music. 

Your group's antics are abruptly interrupted when a loud thud pulls everyone’s attention toward the front of the tavern, and a giddy Pomp and Bubblegum stumble in through the doorway with the rest of the crew following in tow behind them. The tavern-goers stiffen at the sight of the Kidd Pirates, specifically Kidd and Killer, who are the last two to enter as the survey the area. Kidd’s amber eyes land on you, and you can tell by the expression on his face that poker night did not end in his favor. 

He grunts as he brushes past you, the tension in the room thickening as the rest of the boys come to stand around the table with you and the girls.

“Alright, who cleared the Boss’ pockets tonight?”

Your question earns a chuckle from Killer, and even Wire gives an amused smirk as Pomp pulls a bag of berries from his waist, the pouch nearly overflowing. 

“He’s just a sore loser,” Heat mutters, giving you a warm smile as he slips into the seat next to yours.

“Well, duh, this is Kidd we’re talking about,” you giggle, looking over your shoulder to see him ordering a drink at the bar. “I am surprised he came out if he had such a bad run tonight.”

You notice Heat’s eyes flick to Wire, whose face has returned to his usually expressionless stare. 

“He only came because you were here,” he blurts out, and before you can say anything in response Kidd’s angry growl echoes from over your shoulder.

“You can all shut your fucking mouths, I came to get a drink,” he grumbles, plopping down in a seat across the table from you. 

“Yeah, okay,” Wire says, the amused smirk making an appearance again, “Boss just doesn’t wanna admit you’re his good luck charm.”

You feel a slight blush creep on your cheeks, but it quickly dissipates with Kidd’s next rebuttal. 

“I don’t need a damn good luck charm, I need a crew who doesn’t cheat me out of my fucking money!”

You laugh as the bickering starts, and you push back your chair to stand and walk over to the other side of the table, forcing yourself into Kidd’s lap and batting your eyelashes up at him.

“It’s okay to admit that you missed me,” you croon, pinching your boyfriend’s cheek as he goes red from your sudden display of affection. He averts his gaze from you and only offers a dismissive grunt as you place a gentle kiss on his chin, and he does the best he can to hide how flustered he is.

Kidd was never one to be overtly affectionate in public, and you knew this, but you still loved riling him up, especially when he was cranky or in a mood. It almost always worked at getting him to relax, and this time was no exception. Before you know it the whole crew is laughing and enjoying themselves, the topic of Kidd’s loss at the poker table a distant memory as everyone began breaking off into side conversations and antics.

You were listening to Quincy tell a story about some guy she swindled out of some jewelry when you shifted slightly in Kidd’s lap, feeling something hard in his lap as you repositioned your legs. You quirk a brow up at Kidd, who doesn’t look down at you in response. You think maybe you were mistaken, so you decide to test your luck by slinging your leg all the way over to the opposite side of his leg. Sure enough, Kidd’s erection pressed up against your ass as you settled into his lap, his fingers digging into your hips as a warning.

“Watch it,” he grunts, and being the brat you are you look up back at him innocently, feigning innocence as you smirk up at him. “What ever do you mean, Captain? I’m just getting comfortable.”

He leans forward and brings his mouth to your ear, keeping his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You keep this up and I’ll make sure you’re more than comfortable, brat.”

You feel a pulse run down your abdomen and pool in between your legs, a wicked smile curling up on your lips as you pull back and meet his gaze.

“Hmm, is that a threat or a promise?”

You whip your head back around and pretend to rejoin the conversation, feeling Kidd’s fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thigh as he chuckles deeply.

“Killer, pass us that bottle,” he commands, and Killer slides the bottle half way across the table. It stops far enough away that you have to stand to reach it, the bottom of your skirt riding up and letting your ass peak out from the bottom. 

Kidd shifts in his seat, taking the opportunity to unzip his pants as you lean forward and grab the bottle. Then, just as you’re about to resume your position in his lap, he hooks a finger around your underwear, pulling them to the side and guiding your hips back to his lap with his metal hand, the tip of his erection proding at your entrance as he shifts his hips again to sheath himself inside of you.

You fight back a gasp at the sudden stretch of him, taking a long swig from the bottle as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Keep it there, and don’t make a sound,” he growls into your neck, “I’ll reward you if you’re good.”

You shudder at the feeling of his breath tickling your neck, and you hand him the bottle as you do your best to sit still, trying to listen to the conversation that is being had across the table. 

You manage to keep up impressions for some time, finishing off the bottle of liquor with Kidd before nearly breaking character when you feel something cold prod at your inner thigh.

You flick your eyes down to find Kidd bringing a fucking metal spoon to your core, massaging it against your clit before using his devil fruit powers to make it vibrate.

Your cheeks flush as the sensation sends a shock up your whole body, and Wire quirks a brow over at you curiously. 

“Uh oh, someone’s had too much to drink,” he teases, and as he does you feel everyone’s eyes on you, and your cheeks only grow more red.

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter, deciding the guise of being drunk was better than them giving you shit about what was actually transpiring. 

You could feel your walls start contracting around Kidd’s cock as he tightened his hold on your hips, his cock pulsing from the sensation. The tiniest of whimpers escapes your lips just as you feel your core tighten, but Kidd pulls the spoon from you and tosses it on the table, pulling everyone’s eyes as you struggle not to cry out in disapproval.

“Well, looks like I gotta get this lightweight brat back to the ship,” he murmurs, no one even thinking twice about what was actually occurring. Kidd swats your ass encouragingly as you stand up, moving slowly enough so he can conceal himself back in his pants before standing. 

You waddle out of the tavern with Kidd on your heels, trying to ignore the feeling of your own arousal dripping down your leg as your legs rub together.

Once you’re out in the open air, Kidd lifts you up and tosses you over his shoulder, swatting at your ass as he lengthens his strides. 

“I hope you’re ready for your reward, brat.”

Read Part 2 here :3

✨come say hai :3✨ 100 FOLLOWERS EVENT

[mistydeyes]

perfumes i think the 141 boys enjoy

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summary: Scent is one of the most powerful senses, so what kind of fragrance do the 141 boys + Alejandro like on their significant other?

pairing: 141 x Reader

warnings: none

a/n - i also work for a perfume company so I've had a couple of ideas about what scents the boys like :)

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price - loves expensive, smokey scents on anyone. imagine the scents of a fresh cigar-that's what price wants in a fragrance. notes like pepper, leather, tobacco, cedar wood, and iris will make him crumble.

masculine

oud wood - tom ford notes: oud wood, sandalwood, chinese pepper

osmanthe kodoshan - maison crivelli notes: leather, tobacco, sichuan pepper, apricot, peach

functional fragrance - the nue co. notes: cardamom, iris, palo santo, cilantro

unisex

hinoki fantôme - boy smells notes: tobacco leaves, oak moss, and smoked leather

jazz club - maison marigela notes: pink pepper, rum, tobacco

lumière d’iris - veronique gabai notes: rose, iris, cedarwood, amber

feminine

baccarat rouge 540 - maison francis kurkdjia notes: jasmine, ambergris, saffron, cedar wood

cuir béluga - guerlain notes: leather, powder, vanilla

platinum 22 - floris london notes: rose, violet leaf, blackcurrant, oat, black tea

soap - woodsy, floral scents are soap's surprising pick. it brings back memories of the scottish countryside, adventuring in the woods and smelling the fresh flowers his mam had. notice notes of herbs (sage, rosemary, mint), lavender, and violet.

masculine

sauvage - dior notes: pepper, amberwood, bergamot, powder

h24 - hermès notes: clary sage, narcissus, rosewood

new york wall street - bond no.9 notes: sea kale, cucumber, lavender, ambergris, vetiver

unisex

voodoo chile - dries van noten notes: rosemary, patchouli, hemp

libre - yves saint laurent notes: lavender, musk

dirty grass - heretic notes: black pepper, lemon, hemp, violet

feminine

melancholy thistle - jo malone london notes: thistle, english ivy, cool wood

portrait of a lady - frédéric malle notes: frankincense, black currant, raspberry, patchouli

la tulipe - byredo notes: tulips, cyclamen, fressia, rhubarb

gaz - FLORAL CITRUS will make this man fall in love with you. it reminds him of a warm summer day sitting in the grass and smelling flowers. look for summery fragrances with notes of citrus, lemon, sage, and fresh herbs.

masculine

bleu de chanel - chanel notes: citrus, labdanum, sandalwood, cedar

polo black - ralph lauren notes: iced mango, lemon, tangerine, sandalwood, sage, patchouli

l'homme - yves saint laurent notes: bergamot, ginger, cedar wood, vetiver

unisex

cactus garden - louis vuitton notes: maté, bergamot, lemongrass

velvet cypress - dolce & gabbana notes: pine, lemon zest, bergamot, clary sage

eau de campagne - sisley notes: grass, citrus, herbs, jasmine, lily of the valley

feminine

brazilian crush cheirosa 62 - sol de janeiro notes: pistachio, almond, sandalwood, heliotrope, jasmine

her blossom - burberry notes: mandarin, plum blossom, sandalwood

flora gorgeous jasmine - gucci notes: mandarin, jasmine, magnolia, sandalwood

ghost - likes a light, musky scent! he loves when a scent adds to a person's natural smell (he hates sugary, gourmand scents). ingredients like musk, ambrox, pepper, sandalwood catch his eye as he pictures fresh sheets and a rainfall in a forest.

masculine

geranium pour monsieur - frédéric malle notes: mint, aniseed, sandalwood, geranium, frankincense

atlantis - blu atlas notes: orris, oak moss, violet, musk, ambrette seed

gentleman - givenchy notes: pear, lavender, patchouli

unisex

glossier you - glossier notes: pink pepper, iris, ambrette seeds, ambrox

not a perfume - juliette has a gun notes: ambergris

santal 33 - le labo notes: violet cardamom, cedar wood, iris, ambrox

feminine

missing person - phlur notes: musk, bergamot, jasmine, neroli, sandalwood

golden nectar - nest notes: florals, orchid, amber, musk

apollonia - xerjoff notes: white floral, orris butter, white musk

extra! alejandro - if ghost likes it simple and light, then alejandro is the exact opposite. he loves when he can smell someone's fragrance across the room. focus on bold fragrances with spicy notes of nutmeg, myrrh, and rum that is mixed with the gourmand of vanilla, almond, and tonka bean.

masculine

the last day of summer - gucci notes: cedarwood, cypress, nutmeg, patchouli, vetiver

bibliothèque - byredo notes: peach, peony, violet, leather, patchouli, vanilla

london myrrh & tonka - jo malone notes: almond, vanilla, myrrh, lavender, honey

unisex

tobacco vanille - tom ford notes: tonka bean, vanilla. cacao

dark rum - malin + goetz notes: anise, plum, leather, rum, patchouli, amber

tao dao - diptyque notes: sandalwood, cedar, cypress, myrte

feminine

lost cherry - tom ford notes: black cherry, tonka bean, almond

brazil aroma - costa notes: white jungle flora, orange oil, pink pepper, bourbon, vetiver, patchouli

babylon - penhaligon's notes: saffron, nutmeg, coriander, cedar wood, vanilla, cypriol

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[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Breakfast in Margate (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: A grumpy Papa Solomons (yes, that is a warning) and a whole lot of tooth-rotting domestic fluff

Summary:

Mornings aren’t always easy. For example, it’s terribly difficult to not be caught making breakfast for your fiancé, a workaholic who always takes the task upon himself.

However, what makes it harder today is the fact he loathes food made with recipes found online. Fortunately for you, though, Alfie isn’t the only one who’s good at playing games when he wants to push his own agenda.

Especially those that concern a sweet reward.

Author’s note: I've kept Alfie's adherence to his Jewish heritage quite loose. Nevertheless, I hope that the aspects I did incorporate in this work have been done so properly. If not, let me know and please don't hesitate to educate me (in a polite and respectful manner) because I love learning about different cultures and religions.

Tag List: @potter-solomons @zablife @wandawiccan60 @dreamlandcreations @liliac-dreamer @buttercupsandboys @vir-tual @rose-like-the-phoenix @hoodeddreams13 @mollybegger-blog @solomons-finest-rum @hecatemoon87 @babaohhhriley

TH Masterlist

Mornings like this are rare, these quiet moments unbroken by the usual ruckus in the kitchen. Now, it’s solely my bare feet on the wooden floor and the waves crashing onto the shore. No clanging of metal, no muttered curses in Yiddish or Russian, nor the scent of freshly brewed coffee. 

In the living room, Cyril lays in front of the hearth. The first rays of sunshine fall over him like a warm natural blanket, highlighting the ginger undertone in his fur. One of the many features he shares with his owner. 

As soon as I pass by, he lifts his head, tilts it in wonder, and lets out a low bark. After all, it’s Alfie who’s more often than not the first one to wander around the house at the crack of dawn. That is, if he’s slept at all. However, recently he’s started properly adhering to the Shabbat. Although, as much as he allows himself to because if Alfie Solomons is one thing, it’s mighty stubborn. Moreover, he’s an incurable workaholic. As hard as he works at The Old Rum House Bakery to let the business flourish and maintain his position as the fearsome Mad Baker of Camden, just as much effort does he put into our relationship. In fact, it’s not only towards Cyril and I his attention goes, but also to the house.

Our home.

Alfie has become a lot more domestic since we started dating, shortly after meeting one another on a train to London. Disregarding his tendency to walk around naked, he cooks and cleans, assuring me time and again I don’t have to help. When we go out for our weekly grocery trip, no matter how tired he is, he carries the bags to the car so that I don’t have to. Neither do I have to put away what we got, more often than not shipped off to the luxurious red sofa in the living room with a cup of coffee or tea to pair with whatever he’s baked at night. 

Nevertheless, regardless of the otherwise very loose relationship with his heritage, Ollie and I are glad he’s at least taking a day off in the week to rest up. The bakery has recently started taking its toll thanks to an influx in customers, which means extra stock as well as staff is needed. In turn, this means more part-timers to train and more admin work. In other words, everyone has to pick up the pace to meet the current demand. Such is the power of marketing, especially on social media. Alfie is loath to admit it, but Ollie and I can tell he’s secretly grateful we managed to convince him to let us handle the bakery’s socials.

We don’t get cinnamon buns on Monday anymore, though.

I stop in my tracks, turn to Cyril, and put a finger to my lips. “I know, love, but Papa is still sleeping. It’s finally Mama’s turn to make breakfast again.”

Seldom do I get the chance to experiment in the kitchen, let alone try a recipe I’ve found online. Or worse, via Youtube or Instagram. Now, that’s usually enough to make Alfie bristle. Nevertheless, mention the word ‘viral’ and a scowl will twist his lips.

Sometimes I wonder whether or not Alfie and Cyril are the same person because he lowers his head onto his paws and lets out a deep sigh that sounds like sarcastic resignation.

Thanks for the faith, buddy.

“It’s gonna be okay. No fire in the pan this time, I promise. How about we go stretch our legs after brekkie, hm? That sound good?”

Cyril huffs in agreement and closes his eyes, back to enjoying his luxurious pillow. 

We bought it for him when we went antique shop hopping in London last week. Although, perhaps it’s better to say I bought it after convincing my grumpy companion we should occasionally pamper our adopted four-legged child and I couldn’t fix his old pillow anymore. Of course I could, but I was more than done with constantly needing to fix the seams and re-stuff the thing.

Borough Market has become a regular stop on our weekly grocery trip, mostly because I used the splendidly efficient strategy of batting my lashes and pouting. Artisan goods and fresh produce can be luxuries, something to only occasionally splurge on. After all, why spend a fortune when there is a cheaper alternative that’s just as good? 

Nonetheless, Alfie developed a taste for supporting local businesses soon after our first visit. To some he has proposed contracts, offering them a position as a supplier to his bakery. Granted their goods are kosher, of course.

Yesterday, we got some wonderful fresh bright yellow bananas, eggs from a local farm, and oat flour from a mill a little ways away from London. Alfie thought little of it when I plonked them triumphantly in our grocery bag, having occupied himself with the fresh stock one of the florists was setting out. I glance at the colourful bouquet of wildflowers on the table and for a moment I’m back to him holding out to me, face full of the warm tenderness that stands in stark contrast to the stern and unpredictable persona he portrays when I’m not there. 

Right then and there, he wasn’t The Mad Baker of Camden, the fearsome King who rules the borough.

He was a sweet and caring gentleman.

Simply Alfie Solomons.

Nevertheless, in spite of these small moments of tenderness, he can still be awfully grumpy.

Especially if he hasn’t had his coffee.

“Mornin’, dove.” Two big warm hands glide over my hips towards my lower stomach. Those very same palms pull me flush against a naked chest grown soft with neglected muscle, slightly clammy with the remainder of last night’s late summer heat. Alfie presses his lips to the side of my neck and hums, tightening the embrace as he does so. The sonorous trill in his voice sends a shiver down my spine and rekindles a familiar heat. Nonetheless, the way he leans on me betrays he isn’t entirely awake yet. The slight slur in his words serve to confirm the lingering drowsiness, sounding like they’ve been pulled out of bed only moments before too. “That shirt looks good on you.”

“I’m glad you think so because you’re not getting it back any time soon.” I briefly stop mixing the batter to scratch his beard. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch as a content sigh escapes him. “You slept in.”

“Still woke up to an empty spot, though. If you want me to sleep more, yeah, which you know I find a terrible waste of time, I’ll need my wife to ‘old.”

I pat his hands to placate him. The thin gold band inlaid with a modest diamond around my ring finger matches his. I had thought Alfie would pick something elaborate for himself, but instead he chose a simple thick gold ring and got it engraved. It says: Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li; I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. “Don’t get hasty. We aren’t married yet.”

“Let’s just go to the courthouse today.’’ He slips his hands beneath the fabric of the shirt I stole from him, letting them rest on my stomach after a brief caress. It’s a gesture he often makes nowadays. ‘‘Sign the paper, right, and be done with it so the desk eaters are ‘appy. We can always celebrate it later. Throw a party as big as the whole of bloody Camden, like a proper coronation ceremony to celebrate our union.”

“Tempting as it is, I’ll have to refuse. Besides, it's Shabbat today and you need to take a break. I promise I can wait a little while longer to officially become Mrs Solomons.”

“You ‘ave been from the start, Y/N. I don’t need a ring to call you my wife. ‘Sides, you well know ‘ow I am. Which reminds me, breakfast is my job, innit?” A wary tone creeps into his voice as he leans away to check what’s in the mixing bowl. “Is that edible?”

“It will be,” I say, continuing to mix the ingredients until they’re well combined.

“I’m not eatin’ that goo. Looks fucking awful, that stuff.”

“It’s healthy goo! Uses the bananas, eggs, and flour we got yesterday.”

Nose scrunched, Alfie peers at me. “Oh, so yesterday was all a little scam to get me to eat whatever this is?”

“You aren’t the only one who can lie. Although, it’s not really a lie, is it? More like a half-truth.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I simply never told you my plan. Would ruin the surprise.”

“Which is?”

“Baked oats that taste like cake. They just haven’t been baked yet.”

“Where’d you get the recipe?”

“YouTube…”

He groans, wide awake now that the conversation has taken a turn towards a point of absolute irritation. “Fucking ‘ell, dove, ‘ow many times ‘aven’t I told you not every recipe on social media-’’

“Don’t judge before you’ve tried it.” I put the spatula down, turn around in his embrace and steal a kiss off of his lips. “Said so yourself, didn’t you?”

“Don’t use my words against me.”

“Oh, I will. If only to keep things fair. Have a little faith in me. It’ll be fine.”

I hope.

A warning finger raised and pointed at me, he leans in until our faces are mere inches apart. “Fine. But I’m gonna make us coffee, right, so we’ll at least ‘ave something to get us fucking started.”

I can’t suppress a chuckle at the grumpy gesture. “Sure.”

The threat turns into tenderness when he cups my cheek. His palm has grown rough with the hours spent at the bakery, proof of his hard work. Tenderly, he presses his lips to mine. “Ikh hab dir lib.”

“I know.” To show I accept his usual indirect apology for his bad mood and avoid coming across as being cross with me, I run my fingers along his jaw. “I love you too.”

Resting his forehead against mine, he nudges my nose with his. “Mhm.”

“Why don’t you take Cyril for a brief walk, eh? The oats have to bake for twenty-five minutes anyway.”

“We can take ‘im on a walk later together. I’ll go set the table.”

“First put on a pair of knickers.”

“No.”

“You know the rules, Alfie. No buns on the chairs during summer.”

“I ain’t sweating.”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you’re the one who isn’t.”

I cock an eyebrow, fighting the smug smirk threatening to break out. “That so?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, “first we’ll ‘ave coffee, right, ‘cause otherwise neither of us functions. Now, ‘ow about after we’ve started the day proper I’ll fuck you like last night, hm?”

Until I black out. 

The prospect of it mixes with memories of last night. Sea blue eyes, usually so steady and full of hidden temperaments, barely able to refrain from going cross-eyed. The fight with the stutter in his hips, gradually growing closer to the edge of pleasure but also exhaustion. Big hands reminiscent of wolf paws gripping the headboard for support while I was already lost in a satisfied delirium. The absent-minded glance to the bruises on my thighs adds to the steadily growing heat between my legs, perversely longing for more.

For him.

Nevertheless, the haze clears in an instant with a single sharp thought. I take a step back, crossing my arms as I search his expression for confirmation. However, as usually is the case, Alfie keeps his true motifs to himself. And this time, behind a mask he tends to put on when he wants something from me in particular. “So you can make breakfast. That’s what you’re getting at, aren’t you?”

“No,” he purrs, stealing a kiss as soon as he has bridged the distance between us, “not at all, dove. I just want my wife. I wanna make love to you.” We softly start to sway, slowly making our way out of the kitchen. “Let me make love to you.”

We come to a halt on the threshold. “Later. After you put on a pair of knickers and we’ve eaten.”

He blinks, the cheeky smile grown stiff. I can feel his muscles tense, unconsciously causing him to grip me a bit tighter than before. “But-’’

“Knickers, Alfie.”

“One round.”

“Alfred Solomons Jr, knickers. Right now.”

The use of his full name provokes a menacing snarl, the kind which is usually preserved for those who cross him. “Those oats better be fucking worth it, yeah, ‘cause otherwise you’re payin’ for lunch.”

I trace his cock, the skin hot and hardening beneath my fingertips with every sharp intake of breath. Perhaps this game won’t go on for as long as it usually does before he loses control. “Somehow I don’t think I will.”

He roughly grips my face, the thrill of every low-voiced word against my lips travelling throughout my body. “I ought to do somethin’ ‘bout that attitude of yours. Big fucks small, Y/N, always.”

Game over.

Except for the one card I have left to play.

“I know,” I wrap my hand around him, barely able to grip him properly, “but first some knickers. Please, Papa?”

“Clever bird, ain’t ya?” He growls into the kiss when I lightly squeeze him and let go. “Maybe I should carry out my own personal form of stigmata later. Add to those pretty bruises.”

Like snow in the spring sun, his attitude melts and changes. Alfie gently nudges my cheek and makes for the bedroom. A few moments later, he returns and starts setting the table while I pour the batter in the ramekins and plop them in the oven.

Despite the promise to make coffee, I reach for the cupboard to grab a mug. After all, old habits die hard.

Nevertheless, I find myself cut off by a hand that gently lowers mine, away from the handle.

“I said I’ll make us coffee,” Alfie grumbles. “Let Papa Solomons do ‘is job, yeah. Go sit in the livin’ room. I’ll be there shortly.”

I nod at the baking aftermath in the sink. “I got some washing up to do.”

“Nah, that can wait. Coffee and, ‘opefully, food first.” He places his hands on my shoulders and kindly coerces me out of the kitchen. “Go on.”

I let him guide me, feigning defiance by pouting. Yet, the act quickly falls apart with a lighthearted giggle. I suppose I still have a lot to learn from him concerning the art of masks. “Alright.”

Soon after he joins me on the porch, where I’ve settled down with Cyril to enjoy the salt air. The beach across the street is still empty, devoid of the plethora of towels. The breeze is silent, not yet filled with the chatter of tourists and locals alike.

These hours are ours.

This is our Margate.

“'Ere you go, love.” Alfie hands me a steaming mug of cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, the milk soft and foamy, before he sits down next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as I take a sip. “Nice, innit?”

“Mhm.”

Thus we sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and each other’s company. Cyril has started to doze off, although he tries in vain to keep his eyes open. One glance to the side tells of Alfie fighting the same battle. Occasionally he pulls a face or lifts his hand to stifle a yawn. It’s strangely funny to watch him continue to take a sip afterwards, a small gesture of hope. Surely he should be readily awake before his cup is empty.

Because sleeping isn’t an option.

He’s tired of the nightmares.

The faint sound of the oven going off disturbs the domestic bliss.

Alfie groans as struggles to get up, glad to have my arm to use as support while he pulls himself to his feet. I say nothing, knowing full well how his sciatica influences his mood.

And it’s already rotten enough in the morning.

As Alfie washes his hands, I get the baked oats out of the oven and place them on the plates. Meanwhile, Alfie warms up a few slices of babka and the challah bread we made together yesterday. “Just so we ‘ave somethin’.”

He sits down while I wash my hands. From the corner of my eye, I see him poke the oats with his fork. “It’s kosher?”

“It is,” I say, drying my hands before I sit down across from him. “Shall I go first?”

“Very funny.” He scoops a bit of the oats onto his fork and puts it in his mouth. His brows knit together, contemplating the taste.

“And? Do you like it?” 

Remaining silent and gaze fixed on the ramekin, he pokes his oats again. 

I swallow hard, my excitement crushed under the stones of dread. A nagging voice in the back of my head feeds into the fear of his judgement. Funny how one connects their self worth to food. Then again, it was that which started our relationship. A cup of coffee, a slice of babka, and a slice of plant-based carrot cake. Back then, though, my stomach didn’t quiver this badly nor did my ribs feel like they were caged in a very tight-strung corset. “You don’t.”

“Dove,” he begins, but doesn’t continue. 

Not until after he’s had another bite. “It’s good.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or simply trying to appease me.”

“I’m serious.”

“You are?”

“I am,’’ he says, raising his voice ever so slightly in spite of the effort to keep it even. Alfie finally meets my gaze and I can tell he’s being sincere regardless of the way he accusingly waves his fork at me. ‘‘But I still don’t like 'ow you got this off of the internet. ‘Ow many times ‘aven’t I told you, hm? You should know better by now.”

I chuckle as I at last taste the baked oats myself. They’re chocolatey with a subtle banana undertone, which is warmed by the cinnamon. “I gotta find new recipes somehow.”

“There are cookbooks.”

“Too limited and they take up too much space.” While nibbling on a piece of challah bread, I take a sip of coffee. “Can I make this more often?”

“It does taste like cake,” he reluctantly admits, spooning up another bite. “Yes, you can.”

“Why do you make it sound like there’s a condition?”

“You can make these oats, yeah, if I get to serve you something sweet in return.”

Something not to be had in the kitchen.

‘‘Deal,’’ I lean in, biting my lip as I play my final card, ‘‘Papa.’’

Alfie clenches his fork upon hearing his favourite nickname, the title he is secretly proud of. A dark haze clouds his eyes, the gloss in them highlighted by the morning sun. The smirk on his lips has evened out, his jaw tightened with the effort to practise self-restraint. 

Game over.

I won.

And the prize is something sweet with lots of cream.

[wardenparker]

Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 6

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.    

Rating: M for Mature. But as always this blog is 18+! Word Count: 9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* This is just one big ol’ chapter full of various kinds of angst. Wholesome points for Bobby Rogers being a very good kid. Summary: As the gap widens between you and Jack, Diana’s loyalty shifts toward your budding friendship. Notes: Tensions are rising as spring gets closer and Diana is stirring the pot 😂 I just adore her. This chapter is a great little glimpse into the Rogers family and how they weave their way around the relationship between you and Jack.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack can’t explain it, but he’s listless after the conversation with you. Wandering slightly as he leaves your porch and shoving his hands in his pockets as his boots slap along the gravel pathway towards the small pond on the property. Wondering why he feels like he’s done something wrong. The way that you had looked at him with your heart in your eyes and then watching it seemingly break rubbed him the wrong way. Tex had slept with you. He doesn’t understand why it sticks in his craw but it does. He wants you, physically, but he won’t touch you because of the damn ink on his skin, the invisible threads that seem to tie you together. But he shouldn’t care that Tex had spent the night in your bed. However, he can’t get the image out of his head and he doesn’t like it. Not at all. Sighing to himself, he shakes his head. Scoffing quietly at his ridiculousness. “Damn fool.” He huffs, looking out over the water.

The small pond reflects nothing but serene moonlight back at him, the young folks out walking through the green of the neighborhood or sitting in the gazebo too far from its surface to interrupt his ruminations. A few blocks away, Tex is drinking off his frustration while he packs, loud music enough to have his bookshelves vibrating but not a hint of it leaking out into the street. On the street, everything is peaceful and perfect. It’s the picture of serenity and always is - Statesman arguments happen behind closed doors because your neighbors might not have high enough clearance to be able to overhear whatever a fight is about.

Jack sighs, pulling a hand out of his pocket to drag it down the front of his face. This had been a place he loved coming, reminding him of the pond back home. The one that Abigail had loved to sit next to and watch the sun set. Now he just feels like there’s a weight on his chest, on his heart.

“Okay, Uncle Jack?” The cheery voice of Bobby Rogers is unexpected, but Champ’s son - Agent Rum - is all smiles when he waves at his father’s best friend. The junior agent’s evening walk is easily interrupted, and he strides over to the bench that Jack has sunken down on.

“Hey kid.” Despite the fact the boy is an agent and old enough to drink, he’s always called Bobby ‘kid’. A running joke because it had made the youngster laugh when he had met him. Old enough that he didn’t think about his son every time he looked at him. “I’m okay. How are you?” He asks, raising a brow in concern. He’d read the after action report from Prague.

“Just had dinner with Ginger and Gabi and the kids.” Bobby sits himself down next to Jack and leans back, surveying the older man with the same appraising expression as his mother uses, except Bobby shrugs amiably. “Itchin’ to get back out there but there’s no assignment for me right now. You know how it is.”

“Yeah.” Jack huffs under his breath, very aware of being on desk duty. He tries to avoid turning towards the boy, aware that he’s as perceptive as his mother.

“Maybe there will be something for both of us?” He suggests optimistically, having wanted to run a mission with Jack ever since his promotion to active agent status.

Jack can grin at that, a smug little smirk that is fully aware of his own strengths as an agent. “That would be fun.” He acknowledges with a nod. “Maybe Champ’ll send us out together.”

“Maybe if you said something?” It’s no secret that Bobby looks up to Jack. He always has, ever since he was small, and even now there’s a remnant of something childlike in his excited expression. “I know you usually work missions with Tequila if you do doubles but I know we could be a hell of a team.”

“Yeah.” Jack nods, although he knows he will be shot down. “I’ll say somethin’ for sure, kid.” He turns towards him now. “It’ll be good to run a mission together.”

“You comin’ over for dinner this week?” With Jack’s agreement to the idea, Bobby is beaming. “I swear I don’t mind still living so close as long as Mom keeps making meatloaf every Wednesday night like clockwork.”

Jack chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Have I ever missed a meatloaf Wednesday unless I was out of town?” He asks, leaning over and shoving at the boy’s shoulder with his own. He can’t help but wonder how you make meatloaf.

“Never.” The young man acknowledges with a snort. “Can’t exactly find meatloaf in Prague. Gotta admit that I missed it.”

“Nothin’s ever better than homemade by momma.” Jack acknowledges honestly.

“It’s true.” The smile that plays on Bobby’s lips is wistful. “God I hope I get a soulmate that can cook,” he laughs. “If she’s as hopeless as I am we’ll be eatin’ at my parents’ table or in the Statesman cafeteria our whole lives.”

The blood in Jack’s veins freezes from the kid’s innocent statement. “H-here’s hopin’.” He manages and quickly glances back at the water.

Bobby might be young, but he’s a trained Statesman agent the same as Jack and he knows his uncle is acting jumpy. Instead of needing an answer like his father might do, though, he nods and decides to give Jack some peace. “I’m gonna walk on,” he decides, Stretching his long limbs before pushing up to standing again. “Got a good book calling my name. I’ll see ya ‘round, Uncle Jack.”

“See ya, kid.” Jack nods and watches the boy as he ambles away like he hasn’t a care in the world. It makes Jack sigh heavily and he closes his eyes, thinking about Abigail. “Darlin’” he murmurs softly. “I’m doin’ what I think right, so why does it hurt?” He asks his long dead wife, wishing she could answer him.

******

It feels like you cried all night after Jack left, and for the better part of your private time for the next few days. At work you’re numb, going through the recipes that you chose with tender loving care, feeling like more machine than person. The aching in your heart just hasn’t abated, and every day you step out your front door halfway between Tex and Jack’s houses, you almost wonder who you miss more. Except that, as guilty as you feel about it, you know the answer. Today feels like a day that you just can’t get anything right, as every batch of cornbread you make seems to lack flavor, or texture, or not rise enough. You swear you might scream if another pan comes out looking deflated and overly dry - but that might also be the fact that it’s nearly two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten yet. Matter of fact, when was the last time you ate?

Diana pushes into the main dining room, frowning slightly as she does. Something is off and after pulling the truth out of Champ over breakfast, she decided that visiting you was what she needed to do. “Darling? Are you in the kitchen?” She calls out.

Oh god… The sound of Diana’s voice is usually welcome, but you’re just not up to having company. It’s not exactly a question you can dodge, though, is it? She’ll find you here whether you like it or not. “I’m back here!” You call finally, figuring she’s already heard your music playing. The speakers are always attached to whatever is playing on your phone, which you now turn the volume way down on.

“Am I interrupting you?” Concern laces her features as she pushes one of the double doors open and peers into your kitchen. It’s surprisingly empty, although with what’s been going on, she can’t blame you. “If you aren’t up for company, you let me know.”

"No, it's okay." After having barely spoken to anyone for a few days, you clear your throat and try to smile. "Come on in. I could use a break from all this cornbread." The pans sitting all around you are practically mocking you and you would be very glad to ignore them for a while.

You look devastated. Diana sighs to herself and reaches out to pull you into a brief but fierce hug. Wishing that she could wipe away the hurt and sadness. Damn Jack.

"What was that for?" You ask when she leans back to look at you. Just because you haven't said a word to her doesn't mean that she doesn't know what happened, although you would hope that Jack had enough discretion to not just go blabbing it to everyone. Who knows?

“Mother’s instinct.” She hums. “You look like you need a hug. So I gave you one.” She won’t tell you that Champ told her the situation, but she’ll listen if you need to talk.

"I was about to make myself some lunch." Wiping your hands on your apron gives you a moment to compose yourself so you don't just break down on the spot. You did need that hug. "Is it too late in the day for you to join me?"

“I’ve been running around with a tour group of two hundred.” Her eyes widen dramatically and she huffs. “Some corporate retreat and ‘team building’ thing so I’ve not had a chance to hear myself think.”

"So that's a yes?" Since cooking for people is the one thing that seems to relieve stress, it actually makes your shoulders drop a little and sloughs some tension away. "I have more cornbread than we can shake a stick at to go with it."

“Ohhh are you making cornbread fritters?” Diana asks ask she looks at the fallen pans of cornbread.

"I can if you like." It would certainly use up some of this failed baking. "How about I make us a big chop salad and we can have a basket of cornbread fritters to go along with it?"

“Do you want some help or do you want me to be your sounding board while you cook?” Diana asks, tilting her head at you, curious to see what you will decide.

“Why don’t you join me?” It’s not just anyone that you would invite into your kitchen, but you’ve become fairly attached to the older woman in just the few weeks you’ve been here. She is usually an endless source of positivity and support - two things you could really use right now even if you hate the reason why.

“Absolutely, chef.” She tosses you a grin and immediately marches over to your industrial sized sinks to wash her hands. “Put me to work.”

Everything you’ll need to road test the upscale Cobb salad for your menu is already in the fridge, so you set Diana up with a cutting board, knife, and a bowl to deposit everything into and set to work turning one skillet’s worth of cornbread into fritter mix - with some cheddar cheese added for good measure. There are a few slices of bourbon maple glazed bacon that you’ve been experimenting with that you’ll chop up as well - the perfect topping for the salad after it’s been dressed. “So a corporate tour?” You ask, trying to remind yourself to be social as the two of you start working side by side. “That sounds…sort of excruciating, honestly. Two hundred is a huge group.”

“They were more interested in tasting than the actual tour.” Diana tells you as she starts to chop the ingredients. Looking down at the cutting board and smirking to herself at how sharp your knife is. A good, proper blade.

“If I worked for a corporation doing mandatory retreats, I would be too.” It’s the closest you’ve been to laughing in days, the little huff you give as you shake your head.

“There’s some truth to that.” Diana laughs as she acknowledges it. “Although I guess it’s a good thing that the restaurant isn’t open yet or all of them would have been in here.”

“That’s fine. Customers I can handle.” Working the cornbread mixture with your hands is actually kind of cathartic. Imagining it’s the knots in your heart instead of food. “They’re particular, but in a way I can handle. I wouldn’t even know how to keep them all engaged on a tour.”

“Practice.” Diana muses, sneaking a glance over at you. “Much like wrangling cowboy soulmates.”

You sigh, a little too deeply, and turn to look at her with anxiety written all over your face. “How long have you known?”

“The tattoo?” She doesn’t suppose that you are talking about the situation you find yourself in now, but she just wants to clarify. “From the beginning.” She admits quietly. “Champ doesn’t keep much but classified information from me. And this…well, Jack is family.”

“So…” If your hands weren’t covered in edible sludge, you would be leaning on the counter while you try to collect yourself. As it is, all you can do is stare at Diana. “When was anybody going to tell me?”

“If I had my way, I would have slapped Jack upside his damned fool head.” Diana huffs, holding your gaze steadily. “But…Champ said that it was Jack’s place to figure out that he’s been given a second chance.”

That twists the knife in your heart, and you look down at your hands to avoid tearing up if you keep looking at the woman beside you. Diana is so full of empathy that it seems to just deep out of her. “Jack doesn’t want a second chance.” You murmur, head bowed like somehow it’s your fault.

“Damn jackass doesn’t know what he wants.” Diana hisses, her chopping becoming slightly less perfect through her anger. “And he likes you, so you terrify him.”

“He doesn’t like me as much as you think he does.” If he did, he wouldn’t have shattered any hope you had of something happening between the two of you somewhere down the line. “He made it abundantly clear last night that he doesn’t want another soulmate.”

“Stubborn fucking mule.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment. She knows that Jack likes you more than he’s willing to admit, but the damn fool can’t get past his grief.

“He seems to know his mind well enough.” If you mix this damn batter anymore it is just going to be goo, so you stop - pulling your hands away and wiping them reasonably clean so you can wash up and start portioning out the mix. “Second time I’ve lost a chance at having a soul mate in just a couple of weeks and I didn’t get a say in it either time.”

“So he told you….” Diana is shocked at that, the knife turning to the side and she looks at you in shock.

“Not in a great amount of detail.” You shrug, feeling her eyes on you as you scrub your hands clean. “But yeah. He told me. A-about Statesman being…spies. About…” Sighing makes your whole body shake. “About how he…killed my soulmate. And then inherited me.”

Diana’s face screws up in anger, promising herself she’s gonna kick Jack’s ass from here to New York and back. “Jack has killed men before and never inherited their soulmates.” She spits. “So he’s full of shit. The universe doesn’t just randomly assign soulmates, especially not second ones.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” The worst part right now is how defeated you feel. How hopeless and helpless everything feels knowing that Jack’s mind was made up before he even met you. “He doesn’t want anything to do with it, but apparently the fact of him was enough to scare off the guy who did like me.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Diana doesn’t know the details, just the highlights that had been given to her and she knows it might be better for you to talk and get it off your chest. “If you want.”

Not being able to talk to anyone these last few days has been the hardest part of everything, in some ways. With no one to help lighten the burden it seems to have tripled its weight on your chest. The normal phone calls to your sister whenever something bad or complicated happened hadn’t occurred this time - because how could you explain even half of what happened while avoiding the tidbits that apparently required security clearance? It was a minefield you didn’t know how to navigate. But Diana? Diana already understands this world. She lives in it and thrives. “It goes back to when I first got here,” you explain, as if that were longer ago than a mere three weeks. “That first night…Jack came to tell me that I had gotten the job here, and we ended up going out together.” Working while you talk is the best way to keep your mind from overwhelming you, and by the time lunch is finished being prepared you’ve told Diana everything. Every last detail is laid out for her to examine, leaving you feeling both exhausted and somehow unburdened as you sit down together at the long prep counter to eat.

Diana is madder than a bucket full of hornets. Fuming as you had described the back and forth treatment from Jack, dangling you like a marionette until he’s realized he’s too close and tossing you aside. Instead of raging, she reaches over and pulls you in for another hug. “This isn’t your fault.”

“What’s worse is that I can’t even bring myself to be mad anymore.” Upset, obviously, and hurt. But anger has come and gone like a flash in a pan. “I get that he’s hurt, and that this is as much a shock to him as it is to me. But I just…” You squeeze her back, needing the hug much more than you want to admit. “I haven’t gotten a say in any of it. Even Tex wouldn’t say a damn word to me once he realized. Like in his mind Jack already owned me, or something. But all Jack wants is to be friends.” At least, that’s what he had said. And all you could do is take it at face value.

"Tex is...loyal." Diana sighs. "He's always been secretly disappointed that soulmate marks haven't shown up on his body so he could find his soulmate." She explains. "Of course, he isn't going to poach Jack's mate. Even if he wanted to, his sense of propriety wouldn't let him because he feels like Jack will want you."

“Which means that, once again, I don’t get a say in my own relationships.” It’s becoming a recurring theme and you aren’t exactly thrilled with that. “I’m sorry,” you shake your head and pick up your fork, reminding yourself that eating is necessary even when you’re annoyed. “I don’t mean to complain about people who act with what they believe are the best of intentions. But I’d give my right foot for anybody to have asked me what I wanted.” Tilting your head, though, you look around you and half-chuckle. “Except Champ. He’s given me anything I want here, and I’m grateful for that.”

“I don’t blame you.” Diana shakes her head. “Men always try to do what they think best without asking.” You are so sweet and you deserve the world. “Take back your control where you can.” She urges you.

“How am I supposed to do that?” It’s an honest question, considering you barely know what you want beyond to be loved. The fact that Jack's face is what always comes to mind now is just a complication. “Tex is in another country and Jack has made up his mind already.”

“That, I can’t decide for you.” Diana has a few ideas on what she would do if Champ had rejected her, but she wasn’t you. “But I can tell you what I would do if I were you.”

Something about the way she says it sparks your curiosity, and you tilt your head at her as you pluck up one of the fritters from the basket between you. “What would you do?” Anything is better than moping - which is all you’ve done for days.

“I would start dating.” Diana snorts and sends you a small grin. “As many dates as you want, whoever you want.” She shrugs. “If he wants to be ‘friends’, he doesn’t get a say in how you move on with your life.” She takes a sip of her sweet tea. “Operate like you don’t even acknowledge Jack Daniels wears your marks.”

“Seriously?” You’re not sure why the suggestion is so shocking to you, but you feel like your jaw drops all the way down to the counter when she looks at you with fire in her eyes. She’s angry for you, and it’s simultaneously daring and empowering. Like she has just done the emotional equivalent of offering the Revenge Dress to Princess Di. “That’s…I guess that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“Yes it does.” She nods. “You don’t have to do it, but I would. Just to show him that he’s not going to dictate your life, just because he’s hung up on a past that is no longer reality.”

“Are you…suggesting that it might make him jealous?” You can’t imagine how, all things considered, but it would be kind of satisfying.

“If it does, it serves the fool right.” She hums, a slightly evil grin on her face. “Even if it doesn’t, it will be you taking control of your life again. You decide how you spend your time.”

“I…” Slumping slightly in your seat, you nudge your fork through your salad - it’s delicious, but you’re thinking things through. “I don’t know if I’m ready to possibly get rejected again so soon,” you admit. “I’m…I don’t think I could take it. Not this soon.”

“Let me set you up.” Her eyes light up and she grins. “Astrid’s brother is coming into town.” She gasps. “Oh that’s perfect.”

“Oh, I…” It’s guilt, this twisting feeling in your gut, and all of a sudden you sit up and shake your head. “The idea of it makes me feel guilty,” you tell Diana honestly. “Which is totally illogical, and I need to get over this fucking crush I have on Jack or it’s just going to fester and that won’t help. So…” Exhaling deeply, you nod as decisively as possible. “Tell me about Astrid’s brother.”

Diana grins and sends you a wink. “If I was twenty years younger…” she starts with a laugh, proceeding to tell you all about the handsome man that will be perfect for a good time and getting your mind off Jack.

It’s not such a bad idea, when you think about it. The trajectory of your life has taken such an obtuse turn that thinking about something like life after being rejected by your second soulmate is just a chat you have over lunch with your boss’s wife. Although, with this conversation today, Diana has become much more than just your boss’s wife. She’s your closest friend at Statesman. “Okay.” You nod, sitting up straight after she tells you all about the man she has in mind. “As long as Astrid is okay with it, I’m in.”

“Good!” Diana smirks as she picks up another fritter out of the basket. “I bet you these would be amazing as a side dish to meatloaf.” She muses before giggling slightly.

“I would make that for my staff in a heartbeat. I just need to find a good meatloaf recipe.” You ruminate on the idea for a second before smiling. “Actually, I’ve been trying to figure out one more thing for the main menu. Meatloaf and cornbread fritters might be just the thing.”

“I have a recipe.” The smile that creeps over Diana’s face is nothing short of fortuitous. “Every Wednesday it’s served at my dinner table.” She admits. “You are welcome to come, but….Jack will be there.”

For a split second you almost jump on the invitation, but even the mention of his name makes you hesitate. Especially when you realize that today is Wednesday. “Maybe next week.” Seeing him again so soon - mere hours after you’ve talked everything out - just doesn’t feel like something you can handle.

“I can understand that.” Diana nods sagely, reaching out and touching the back of your hand. “Why don’t I bring you some tomorrow and let you try it, see if you like the recipe.”

“That would be really nice of you.” You turn your hand over to squeeze hers quickly. “Thank you for this, Diana. For all of this today.”

“What are friends for?” She knows that she’s older, and she’s the boss’s wife, but she thinks of you as a friend. “Plus I’ll make sure I give you the portion that would have gone home with Jack.” She cackles and winks at you.

The two of you share a good laugh over the idea of Jack pouting over missing his leftovers, and you bite back the feeling of regret at not being able to sit at that table with him like any normal pair of soulmates. “I really…” It sticks in you, clinging to your heart unbidden. “I want him to be happy,” you tell her honestly. “If that’s not with me, then the universe screwed up.”

“Jack’s never going to be happy until he lets his wife’s ghost rest.” Diana explains exasperatedly. “The man can claim he’s happy, but he’s not. You can tell, at least those that have known him for a long time can.”

“Well…whatever it ends up meaning for him. He just…” Sitting back in your seat, you reach for what’s left of your tea and sigh softly. “Everybody deserves to be happy.”

“And that includes you.” Diana reminds you, giving you a firm look.

“I hope so.” After the last few weeks, though, you have your doubts.

******

“I shouldn’t let you in the damn house.” Diana scowls at Jack as he stands in the doorway of her house. If she had a rolling pin in her hand, she’d be hitting him with it.

In the hours since she left your kitchen, Diana has been fuming. Thank god Champ hasn’t been home until just a few minutes ago or he would have gotten quite the earful about how purely Jack had treated you.

Jack's easy smile is instantly replaced with a frown. "What did I do?" He demands, looking around. "I wasn't supposed to bring nothin'."

“What you did has nothing to do with dinner.” She tells him flatly. This isn’t a conversation for the whole neighborhood to hear, though, so she lets him inside despite wanting to wallop him. “Would you like to guess how I spent the afternoon, Jack?”

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jack scoffs, shaking his head. "Your husband has me trainin' the young bucks on the whip and lasso." It still is a sore subject but at least he isn't stuck behind the desk for the entire day.

"I heard a little story today." Shutting the door behind him, Diana frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "From your soulmate."

"How many fuckin' times do I have to explain this." Jack's frown deepens and he rolls his eyes. "She ain't my soulmate. Second soulmates is a fucking lie you tell someone to make yourself feel better about the poor bastard losing his while yours is still happily breathin'." He scoffs. "It ain't real and I didn't fuckin' ask for her marks. I don't want 'em."

"A fact which you made abundantly clear to her." The steam pouring from Diana's ears is proverbial, thankfully, otherwise she would look like a cartoon character. "Without ever paying her the courtesy of kindness due to somebody who had their original soulmate torn from them. Instead you flirted with her, basically took her out on a date, kissed her; all the while telling her she basically means nothing to you. And then you had the goddamn audacity to make it seem like she did something wrong for finding herself likin' you at the end of the day." As it all comes tumbling out, Diana can feel herself just getting madder and madder, her blood nearly boiling all too quickly. "Second soulmates may be rare, Jack, but you're living goddamn proof that it's real. Whether you like it or not."

Shame fills Jack, but he'll be damned if he admits it. "She wouldn't have known if Tequila could keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He hisses. "She shouldn't have known, she'd have been happy livin' her life here and whatever attraction between us would have fizzled out and she could've moved on with her life." Guilt and something else twists in his gut, making it churn at the thought of that very thing happening. Shaking his head like he could shake off the feeling, he props his hands on his hips and stares at his oldest friend's wife. "Anything else you wanna lecture me on?"

"Yes, and it's ironic that you asked." The fact that he's trying to pass the buck off on poor Tequila is a whole other topic but she's too fired up in your defense right now. "Since you never once asked her how she felt about the whole damn thing."

"What does it matter?" Jack's volume creeps up in exasperation and he throws his hands up. "It's not gonna change things. It's not like I can change the fact that I'm gonna love my Abigail until the day I'm in the ground beside her. So what fuckin' good is it to ask how she feels about things that don't matter?"

"Because she's human, Jack!" Having to explain that to a grown ass man might be the most exasperating part, since Diana had always counted him as a concerned and caring friend. Apparently his blind spots when it comes to his own emotional state are even bigger than she had thought. "You don't have to love her but you do have to acknowledge that she's a grown woman with feelings and opinions all her own. And that those matter. How can you look her in the face and tell her you want to be her friend without ever once asking how she feels?"

“I can’t love her, Diana.” Jack’s frown turns into something desperate, almost beseeching as he implores her to believe him. “I can’t. I killed her soulmate.”

"Agents have killed lots of men, Jack Daniels." It's his job, and no one here is debating the morality of it. It's just a fact. "But she is the only soulmate that has ever transferred to a Statesman agent in the history of the organization." Diana shakes her head, her expression turning distinctly disappointed. "I'm not asking you what you think you're capable of. I'm saying she is alone, and she's sad, and she feels less than human because you didn't do the courtesy of just asking. You just assumed. And if nothing else, that isn't what friends do."

Jack stares at her for a long moment and sighs, his shoulders slumping and he closes his eyes. “I- I don’t know what to do.” He admits quietly. “I don’t know how to do this.”

"Nobody expects you to." Like a patient older sister with her petulant little brother, Diana shakes her head before reaching out to rub his shoulder softly. "But this knee-jerk anger about having her mark isn't helping anybody at all. Least of all you and her. Or poor Tequila."

"Why do I get to wear hers and not Abigail’s?" Jack demands, choking the question out. "They disappeared, gone, like she never existed."

'I don't know, Jack." When he starts to crumble, Diana moves in, offering him a place to lean against her if he wants it. "But she didn't put them on you herself. She doesn't deserve to be treated like an undesirable for something completely beyond her control."

Jack squeezes his eyes shut and takes the comfort that is being offered. "I- I'll try to - to be her friend." He swallows, hating the way his heart leaps and starts to pound at the mere thought of being around you. "Like- like it was when she showed up."

"Platonic soulmates do exist." In her heart she doesn't think that's how the two of you are meant to be, but it's not up to her to decide. No one but you and Jack can determine how you feel about each other. For now she puts one arm around Jack and gently rubs it up and down his back in a slow, soothing rhythm. "And...for the record? Tequila didn't out you. He only told her that he had seen her mark on somebody else. She figured it out herself."

"Who else would that dumb hick know that would show him a fucking tattoo?" He huffs, still sore about his damn jaw. "I really did think that he had seen her mark on the arm."

"Statesman has hundreds of employees," she reminds him gently. "It could have been anyone. And...apparently she covered it for the wedding. With makeup. Her cousin isn't a big fan of tattoos so she wanted to be courteous."

“Shit.” Jack closes his eyes, the guilt compounding when he remembers the hurt in Tex’s voice.

"It's been a rough few days." She can acknowledge that. That it's been hard for everyone, him included. Unfortunately, there isn't much more she can do but say her piece and be a good friend - both to you and to Jack. "Let's go have some dinner."

“I’m allowed to stay?” Jack asks, slightly surprised that she’s not booting him out on his ass.

“I’m upset, not heartless.” Diana tells him, though if he hadn’t showed remorse or had dug his heels in, she might have sent him on his way. “But next week she’ll be here right alongside you, so I’ll ask you to find a way to be civil by then.”

“I got no problem being civil.” Jack promises, even though he would prefer to limit his time with you until he feels like he is on steady ground. But what could a dinner hurt?

“Good.” Even if she doesn’t quite believe him, she’s already picked her fight for today.

Jack follows Diana into the house, wondering why the older woman felt so strongly about you - a newcomer. He shakes his head and shuffles towards the living room as he greets Champ.

“I won’t ask.” Champ already has a beer out for Jack, having heard the ruckus from upstairs. His wife had given him an overview of her conversation with you but mostly kept your confidence, as she always does with a friend. “The youngins do alright today, Jack?”

Jack can only be grateful that someone doesn't want to crawl up his ass and into his business. He takes the beer and nods. "Comin' along, though some of them ain't exactly cowboys."

"I'm sure we can fix that," the older man chuckles as they follow Diana into the dining room. Bobby had been getting the table set while his mother took the screws to Jack, apparently. "Most don't hang around here too long without getting the spirit."

"True." Jack can agree with that, knowing his own training had weeded out plenty of unsuitable candidates. "But you've got a family legacy here." He tells the older man as he winks at Bobby. "Like the boy here."

"He's doing fine work." Champ commends, puffed up proudly as they all take their seats at the table. "Finer than I was at his age, that's for damn sure."

Jack snorts. "Of course he is." He jokes, winking at the kid. "But that's not sayin' much."

"Alright, you three." Diana looks around the table as she starts to serve - a habit she's kept for years just to keep the men in her life from making a mess at the table. "No shop talk at dinner, you know the rules."

"Yes ma'am." Jack grins as both he and Bobby answer Diana at the same time and Champ just grins at his wife and winks at her playfully.

The meal starts with a little benign chit chat, but soon turns around to Statesman again - though the men are all careful to avoid mentioning case work to adhere to Diana's 'no shop talk at family dinner' rule. "Did I see a groundbreaking on the new apartment building this morning?" Bobby asks when he reaches for seconds. There used to be three small parks in the housing neighborhood. Soon there will only be two. "I didn't know we were expanding that much more. Is the new restaurant gonna be that big?"

Champ leans back and nods. "Figure it will be." He admits, smirking slightly at how well the projected sales are forecasting with just the traffic from the people who work at Statesman enjoying your food right now. "We got ourselves a real winner." He glances over at Jack who is looking down at his plate.

“And it’s just the start.” Diana’s pride is more for you than for the business. “When we start hosting more events than just corporate getaways and bachelor parties, things are really going to get busy around here.”

Jack shouldn't feel pride, he had nothing to do with the restaurant. It was your baby, your hard work and vision that was making it a reality. Still, he nods as he forks up another bite of meatloaf and agrees. "She will be full every day."

Across from him, Diana bites back a smirk at the pride in his voice. “Once she starts doing weddings, she’ll be lucky to have a day off.”

"She doesn't need to be overworked." Jack immediately frowns. "She needs to trust the people around her."

"She'll need a team." For the first time in a little while, Diana is in total agreement with Jack. "It's going to be time to start hiring staff soon, won't it? Including a good second-in-command."

Jack nods, keeping his eyes on his plate. “Yeah she will need that.”

"You sure you don't want the job, Mom?" Bobby grins at his mother, knowing little about the woman who will be running the new restaurant on premises except that his mother is incredibly fond of her. "You always said you wanted to be a party planner."

“Oh no,” Diana quickly shakes her head. “There’s no way that I could keep up with her.” She laughs. “She’s too energetic.”

"What about the opening night party, Di?" Champ suggests, glancing sideways to get an eyeful of Jack staring into his plate. "You're still our gal for events until we hire a full on planner. Why don't you talk to her about what she'd like for opening night?"

“Oh she should have a party, shouldn’t she?” Diana muses. “Something to celebrate the opening. We need to get her family here for it.” She turns to Jack. “You take care of that.”

"Jack's a little overqualified to be a travel agent, ain't he?" Bobby snorts, obviously not having understood the argument between his mentor and his mother, if he overheard it at all.

Jack swallows and pushes around the green beans. “Nah, kid, I’ll be happy to arrange for the family to come down.” He raises a brow. “Gonna need the jet of course. She’s got a big group.” It highlights how alone Jack is now, his own family reduced down to just him. No siblings, parents gone, wife and child gone. Alone.

"Whatever you need." Champ waves his hand like it's the easiest thing in the world, then smiles at his wife. "You, too. Whatever y'all need. Carte blanche to throw a hell of a hoedown."

“Well, that’s a mistake.” Jack snorts, shaking his head even though he’s grinning. “Your wife will invite half the state and plan on feedin’ em too.”

"I'll be damn sure to book the whole place full with reservations." And Diana won't pretend otherwise, either. She has a few strings she can pull, some friends she can call, and some favors she can call in. People enough to make the night the talk of Louisville, that's for sure.

Champ chuckles and reaches over to take his wife’s hand. “I know you will, honey. You always do a good job for us.” He praises, kissing the back of her hand and Jack looks back down at his meal, unable to rationalize the jealousy swimming through him at the causally intimate gesture.

"I'll hash everything out with her this week," Diana hums, as casually as if they were all chatting about the weather. She's interested to know just how rankled Jack will get if she takes things one step further in this conversation about you. "Before the weekend. I don't want her worrying about anything when Lewis gets into town."

“Lewis is coming?” Bobby grins, well acquainted with Astrid’s brother. “That means we need to make sure that our tab is in good standing at the bar. For damages.” He chuckles and leans back. There was always a scuffle at the bar when Ginger’s little brother came to town.

"Y'all can get into plenty of trouble on a boys' night." She laughs, shaking her head at her son even while she watches Jack out of the corner of her eye. "He's taking our favorite chef out while he's here."

Jack’s head snaps up and he almost immediately starts to protest and then he presses his lips together. Knowing that he doesn’t have any reason to argue against it. Instead he ducks his head down and stares at the meatloaf that suddenly tastes like ash in his mouth.

"Oh?" Champ nearly chokes at Jack's reaction but manages to keep his poker face. "Yes." Diana has sat back in her chair, raising her glass of wine to her lips in victory. The jealousy on Jack's face is as obvious as the shade of red he has turned. "Something about a concert he has tickets to? He was very excited."

Jack’s jaw nearly breaks; he's mashing it together so harshly, grinding his back teeth. Eyes burning a hole in his plate as he stares at it.

"Sounds like fun." The sound of chomping from Jack sitting beside him is unexpected, but Bobby doesn't call attention to it because he's not sure what the hell he just heard. "What's he up for? Just the concert?" Diana shakes her head, absorbing every single reaction she can get out of Jack. "Astrid and Gabi's oldest is turning seven next week. They're not doing a big party or anything, but you know Lewis wouldn't miss the kids' birthdays."

It hurts to sit here. Listening to Diana happily chatter about Lewis. Even if he does like Ginger’s brother, he’s suddenly a hell of a lot less happier he’s coming. Wanting to bolt from the table and the conversation but he reaches for his glass to gulp down the rest of his sweet tea, mouth dry.

“Now that we got a pastry chef on premises, birthdays for the kids are going to be a lot sweeter.” Champ nudges his empty plate back on the table after taking his last bite and pats his belly in satisfaction. He’d have to have lost his marbles to be oblivious to what his wife is doing as she harps on the topic, but he also can’t say that Jack hasn’t been damn fool enough to have it coming.

Jack nearly chokes, coughing to cover up the way that the tea manages to slide down the wrong pipe. Slapping himself on the chest and taking deep breaths when he finally finished sputtering the liquid up from his lungs.

“Alright, Jack?” Diana asks, expression washed with nothing but mild concern. She knows he’s fine, but he’s been awfully quiet while he stews - right until this.

"Fine." Jack clears his throat and shakes his head quickly. "Fine. Just swallowed wrong." He gives a bland smile and takes another sip of his drink.

“Good.” Her smile tightens just barely. “I’d hate to think anything here,” she waves her hand at the remnants of the meal in front of them. “Was hard to swallow.”

Jack's jaw rocks but he nods, understanding what is being said. "Not a damn thing." He drawls. "Everything was just as good as it's always been."

“Good.” If that’s all that Jack wants - what’s always been - he’s going to be hurtin’ watching you live your life. And if that’s the bed he’s made for himself, Diana thinks as she gives him a smile, it will be a very lonely one to lie in.

"Good." Jack nods, fully aware there is nothing good about it at all.

******

The clock on the wall reads six o’clock by the time you’re winding down for the day, exhausted from interviews and looking forward to grabbing dinner with Diana after this next one was over with. The intensive process of hiring an entire restaurant’s worth of staff hasn’t been fun, and this is the end of day three. The only thing you’re happy about is that you really do have most of your team together by now. One more line cook and maybe two more waiters and you’ll have a full house. You look down at the application in front of you - the bottom of the stack - and hope you can retain any of the information it contains while you’re talking to this guy. Tripp Tanner. You chuckle Unconsciously at the alliteration. Well…at least you’ll remember his name.

Jack decides to stop by your kitchen. Trying to make a more conscious effort to make you feel wanted, it’s been hard, but he also won’t admit that he likes checking on you. Making sure that you are enjoying your new creation. “Sugar?” He calls out. “You in the back?”

“Jack?” In the weeks since everything exploded between the two of you, you’ve been trying to be nice. To be friendly. Even though it twists your aching heart that he doesn’t see you as anything more, you’re trying to move on. Something that’s hard to do when he pops in to surprise you like this. “I’m in the kitchen!”

“Are you busy?” The last thing he wants to do is impose, but he wants to ask about the planning for the party. Talking to your brother about scheduling everyone in your family to come down is a pain. Too many people to juggle.

He strolls through the door like a cowboy rolling up to his favorite saloon and you can’t help but smile. “I have a couple of minutes before my last interview. What’s up?”

“What time are you planning on kickin’ off the festivities on your big day?” He asks, looking around the kitchen and nodding at the controlled chaos that it seems to emit.

“It’s still almost two months away.” There’s a lot of work to do before then, but you’re excited. Champ has given you everything you’ve asked for and then some. “But the party is…it’s going to be a lot of fun.” Diana’s idea to turn the one-night soft opening you had planned into a party is shaping up to be wonderful. “The whole thing will start at six that night.”

“But the opening is when?” Jack nods, filing away that information. “So I can make sure that the website is updated.”

“Six weeks from Saturday.” Which is so far away and so close all at once. “April 14.”

“Okay, so they are different days?” Jack shakes his head in confusion. “Take me through everything please?”

“The soft opening is like our trial run.” You pop up from your seat to refresh your tea and come back from the fridge with a glass for him as well. “People come by invitation and they have reservations. We’re going to offer our whole menu and have some live music that Diana is arranging. There will be thank you gifts for everyone who comes and they’re all going to get little nips of Statesman with the date on the bottle as well. Champ’s idea, of course.” With how wonderful everyone’s been, you’ve really just been basking in the support. Professionally, at least, things are wonderful. “What this does is give us a night to work out any kinks in the system and make sure all the food is perfect for the grand opening, which is the next day. That’s when we open to the public.”

“Okay, soft opening is Saturday, Grand opening is Sunday.” Jack nods, knowing he will invite the family for the entire weekend. Give you a chance to spend time with them outside of the hustle of your restaurant opening. He leans against a counter, unaware that there is a tool with a sharp edge to snag on his button down shirt. It’s too hot to wear his sports coat and he had run by after leaving the office.

“It will be a very big weekend.” You already know you won’t sleep Friday night, too excited and worried and proud and scared to rest at all. “For tonight, though? Just one more interview.”

“Who you hirin’?” Jack asks before he takes a sip of his tea. Trying to ignore the way your eyes light up and seem to sparkle talking about the opening. Too damn pretty for his peace of mind.

“My sous chef is coming from Savannah. She was the first person I hired.” The enthusiastic woman is about your age and has been doing French influenced Southern fair in Georgia hotels for her whole career. She was excitable but focused in your video interview and you hadn’t hesitated to pull the trigger. “And my front of house manager is actually my roommate from college. She was a hospitality major when I was in culinary and we always said one day if we had our own place we’d hire each other.” The stack of applications and resumes had been intimidatingly thick when they started to arrive, but with Diana’s help you’re getting through it all. “This last interview is for a line cook. I’ve had twice as many applicants as I have positions so I’ll decide this week and call everyone before the end of the day on Friday.”

Jack knows next to nothing about hiring cooks but he nods. Diana’s voice in his head about being polite. “That’s good, sugar. I’m sure you’ll find the right fit for everyone soon.” He agrees. “That sandwich you had everyone tastin’ was mighty good. I never did hear what it was called?”

“That was my version of a croque monsieur.” Having agents and office workers and everybody from the Statesman offices come down to taste test recipes has been an absolute blessing, and so far you’ve made good use of all the constructive criticisms that have come your way. Although you may have weighed opinions like Jack’s more heavily than others…

“It was damn good.” He admits, taking another sip of the sweet tea that you have down to an art form despite growing up in the North. “Hopefully that will make it to your menu at some point.”

“It was a pretty rousing success, so I think it will.” It’s such an easy moment between the two of you. Sitting there together and chatting away, you could almost be mistaken for a couple with the smiles on your faces. But you’ll never tell him just how often you harbor thoughts like that. He would despise it.

Jack hums, knowing that most days will be spent having lunch here, or at least ordering it into the office. “Good,” he leans forward and the material catches, the sounds of ripping fabric filling the air. “Shit.”

“Oh shit!” You jump up, reaching around him to snatch the corkscrew up that somehow got wedged under a stack of cast iron pans and became a weapon against men’s fashion. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did it scratch you or just your shirt?”

Jack frowns, twisting his head and pulling on his arm. “Looks like it just tore my shirt.” Of course it would tear so that the tattoo he wears is exposed and he hisses. “No- it scratched me.”

“Shit,” you murmur again, turning him a little so you can see the damage. “Th-that shouldn’t have happened. I’ll replace the shirt for you. I—I’m sorry, Jack.” What a stupid thing to have ruined a perfectly nice moment, too. “It just looks like a scratch, though. Not like it will…” Even the thought of it has you cringing. “Not like it will scar.” God knows the last thing he wants is another reminder of you.

“Don’t worry about it.” The black looping scrawl on his skin is visible and it makes Jack’s mouth run dry. Your own is already visible today since you have your sleeves rolled up and Jack pulls back to hastily stand straight. “I’ll change my shirt and toss this one.” He tells you quickly. No need to buy another or triage.” He’s panicking and he knows he is, but he sends you a sickly smile.

“You’d better go.” There is no mistaking the way he jumps. The jittery way he jerks is so diametrically opposed to his normally smooth and confident movements. It’s obvious, once you see how his shirt has ripped. He doesn’t want your tattoo showing. Being nice to you is one thing, but having anyone know what you are to him is another. You cross your arms and lean against the counter, suddenly sullen rather than apologetic. “Get a new shirt on before anybody sees.”

“I– that’s not–” Jack protests and shakes his head, falling silent when your stony expression doesn’t change. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He murmurs silently. “Thanks for the tea, sugar.”

The best way to keep yourself from running after him like some godforsaken schoolgirl is to stay stone faced, and you turn back to the counter that you had been using as a desk to take a few very deep breaths before whoever the hell Tripp Tanner is gets here.

Jack curses himself as he rushes through the door, not even paying attention to the man who had come in without him hearing. Watching him through narrowed eyes.

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My Masterlist!

[anabdaniels]

As long as you hold my hand

After a hard day, you met Jack at the bar, and he ends up surprising you positively.

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female Reader

Word counting: 9.8k

Rating: 18+

Masterlist

Warning: Not cannon copliant, alcohol, Jack's dubious flirt, extrasoft!Jack, a lot of nicknames, porn with plot and feelings, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, explicit language, p in v sex, brief mention of unpleasant male behaviors (but there's nothing to do with Jack), light choking, slightly rough sex, creampie, aftercare, cuddling.

“Your turn to order our drinks, bruv.” Eggsy reminded Jack, after finishing his beer.

“I’d already noticed, but thanks for the reminder.” Whiskey responded with sarcasm. It's not that he didn't like the youngest, but Eggsy could be incredibly insufferable at times.

“Y'get pissed off so easy, fella.” Tequila teased his friend some more, breaking out in laughter after that. Eggsy, already slightly drunk, looked like he thought this was the most hilarious thing in the world and laughed louder than he probably should’ve. Whiskey could only roll his eyes and look at Ginger almost in a cry for help.

“Do not look at me. It was your idea to end the day at the bar.” Ginger raised her eyebrows at the conclusion of the sentence, making Whiskey look ready to cry.

“Even you won't stand by me, Gin?” Jack was more dramatic than necessary, but given how determined Eggsy and Tequila seemed to be to upset him, it wasn't that far from a genuine expression of exhaustion.

“Bring me a margarita and we can negotiate my position as your lawyer.” she said as if the matter were really serious. Whiskey finally gave up and chuckled.

“And don't forget my beer.” Eggsy had finally stopped laughing and didn't miss a chance to speak up.

“And my rum.” Tequila spoke raising his empty glass.

“Okay, I'm on ma' way.” Jack adjusted his hat as he looked around, stopping his gaze on the bar counter “I bring your drinks, you two give me five minutes of peace and if all goes well, I won't be driving home alone tonight.” he said without looking away from the counter.

Looking confused and surprised by the sudden comment, Eggsy, Ginger and Tequila looked in the same direction as Whiskey.

“That beauty in the black dress? Just in your dreams, bruv.” Eggsy didn't even flinch before said his thought out loud.

“Don’t be so sure, kid.” Whiskey replied with a crooked smile.

“If you can talk to her for more than five minutes without getting kicked, after you've brought our drinks obviously, I'll pay your share of the bill and clear your share in the Statesman's stable for a month. If you fail, you pay my bill and shine my shoes for a month.” Eggsy suggested with conviction, having no doubt that Whiskey was going to decline the proposal.

“Done.” Jack didn't even think before agreeing “I hope your biceps are strong because there's going to be a lot of work in the stable.” after a wink, Whiskey got to his feet and walked to the counter, leaving Eggsy awestruck by the unexpected response.

After stopping next to the lady who had captured his attention, Whiskey ordered drinks from the bartender and kept a discreet eye on the woman next to him. He deduced that she was alone, since in all the time he was there he didn't see anyone with her.

When the drinks were delivered, Jack thanked the bartender and made his way back to the table before Eggsy showed up claiming his beer. Once his friends had their cups in hand, Whiskey straightened his leather jacket and walked back to the counter, for the first time in years feeling butterflies in his stomach from being about to approach a woman.

You've had a horrible day. Although you finally got your work cut out, things weren't much better. You loved your job as a curator at the museum, but sometimes things could get pretty stressful. Having a few drinks to try to relax was the best idea you had that night, even if, as usual, none of your friends wanted to join you.

You took your attention away from your glass for a moment when someone stopped next to you and it was a little hard to get your focus back to anything else. Cowboys weren't exactly your type, but it was impossible not to take a good look at that man wearing a good Stetson hat and a leather jacket you wouldn't dare imagine the price of, and no less remarkable was the well-groomed mustache on his face.

When the man walked back to the table he came from, you refocused on your glass of Jack n' Coke, starting to consider going home and tensing slightly remembering that you would’ve to spend at least thirty minutes in a taxi or uber with an unknown driver trying to make small talk and not even trying to disguise the prying eyes at your legs or cleavage.

It was fair to say that you were positively surprised when the cowboy walked back to the counter and stopped a little closer to you, but you kept looking around.

“I beg your pardon, miss. But can I ask you a question?”  You turned your attention back to the man at the same moment you heard his voice.

“Of course. What is it?” you stared at him intently, curious for what's to come.

“Do you have a map by any chance?” he asked with a neutral expression on his face. You blinked two or three times trying to understand what kind of question was that.

“No, I don’t.” you answered totally confused “Why?”

“It’s a shame, 'cause I just got lost in the brightness of your eyes.” he replied calmly with an arm resting on the counter. You stared at him for a second as you processed what he had just said. When you were sure of what you heard, you couldn't help but laugh heartily. It definitely wasn't the approach you were expecting, but you couldn't deny that he hit on the kind of humor you liked.

“Okay, that's a new one.” You rested your face on your hand as you regained your composure, refocusing on him, who had a little smile on his lips. “I should’ve seen this coming.” you bit your lip lightly without breaking the smile on your face “Does this work?”

“I don’t know. Worked with you?” he asked with a smirk, raising his eyebrows. You pondered for a moment, tilting your head slightly to the side.

“Maybe.” you admitted still smiling a little.

“So, we didn't get off to such a bad start.” he teased and held out his hand to you “I’m Jack.”

“You have a point.” you replied and shook his hand, saying your name right after.

“May I?” he asked pointing to the empty stool next to you and you nodded promptly “So, what's a beautiful lady like you doing alone in a mid-range downtown bar?” he said after sitting down facing you.

“I had a shitty day at work, I can't count on my friends for anything but parties, and I really didn't want to go home and sink into a portion of fried chicken. So, drinking myself out of my problems seemed like the best option.” You shrugged it off as if it wasn't that important, but you wouldn't be venting to a stranger in the bar if you weren't about to explode with the whole thing.

But what shocked you the most about the whole process was the fact that he actually seemed to be paying attention to what you were saying, and his eyes remained fixed only on your face while you were talking. Definitely another thing you were not expecting.

“It's a shame, darlin’. And, despite the short time we've been talking, I'm absolutely certain that it was your friends who lost out here.” Jack said softly, his words accompanied by a smile that seemed really sincere. You smiled discreetly and took a sip of your drink.

“And what about you, cowboy? I noticed you're not alone, so what's a man wearing an expensive Stetson doing around here?” As you spoke you turned your body a little to be fully face to face with him while you waited for his answer.

“I came to spend some time with my work colleagues after a not so good day.” he shrugged and leaned his crossed arms on the counter “But the real question is how can you identify a Stetson so easily in this shitty light?” he seemed really intrigued by your recognition ability.

“I grew up in a rural town. I recognize an expensive hat when I see one.” you mentioned with a proud tone.

“I'd like to know where ‘cause you’re definitely not from the South and, taking a high guess, I'd say you're not even American. Where are you from, sugar?” Jack leaned his body forward a little, really interested in your answer.

“Okay, you got me there. You're right on both your guesses. But being this good, I think you can guess where I'm from.” you challenged him with a mischievous smile on your lips.

“You're not wrong, I already have a hunch and I'm pretty sure I'm right.” he paused briefly, looking deep into your eyes before giving you an answer “Brazil.” Jack said with conviction, and you couldn't tell whether you were more disconcerted by the right answer or by the pair of beautiful brown eyes looking at you.

“How do you know?” you asked, unable to hide your mixture of surprise and excitement. Jack looked at your mouth for a second before answering.

“Your accent.” he finally explained “You don't have much, but I can hear it.” he winked at you and straightened up on the barstool.

“All right, you've convinced me of your talent for observation. But you already know too much. I would like some answers too.” you said quietly, trying to ignore the chill running through your stomach.

“I’m all yours to interrogate as you wish, honey.” Jack said as he leaned one hand on the back of the stool you were on, subtly narrowing the space between you two.

You took a deep breath so as not to lose your focus with his proximity, but concluded that it hadn’t been a very smart idea when his scent invaded your sense of smell. The mixture of the woody perfume and the fragrance of the aftershave lotion was the best thing you had smelled in a long time.

You were aware that he certainly noticed that it took you a few seconds to get your train of thought back, but there wasn't much you could do about that.

“Well then.” you ran your tongue across your lips, as you pondered what you were going to say “You're certainly not a big-city man. You have well taste in clothing, you have a good pair of boots, a brand-new Stetson, but you don't have the manner of someone who grew up in the city.”

"Apparently I'm not the only one with observation skills." he mentioned with a satisfied smile "You got that right, honey. I like living here in Louisville, but I couldn't be more grateful I wasn't born here."

"That being the case, I think I have the right to know which town I should be grateful for the existence of the most handsome cowboy I've ever met." Finally, you gave up trying (and failing miserably) to disguise that you were completely into him.

"It's a fair reason." Jack laid a hand on your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb "Feel free to thank Bardstown."

"I've never been so grateful in my entire life." you replied as you rested your hands on his shoulders and wondered how you had managed to keep your composure until then. Calmly you extinguished the space between the two of you and it took a lot of self-control not to groan when his hand that had been on the back of your stool took hold of your waist and squeezed gently, while Jack busied himself with taking your breath away.

Across the bar, Eggsy was on the verge of having a heart attack as he shook Tequila and Ginger to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Don't worry so much, Eggsy. You'll love Statesman's horses." Ginger didn't miss the chance to mock the boy.

"She's right, buddy. You'll enjoy the experience of takin' over the stable." Tequila also seized the moment to piss Eggsy off.

"How nice that my misfortune is serving as entertainment for you two." Eggsy leaned back in his chair still staring in astonishment at the bar counter "How did he manage not to get excoriated the very moment he opened his mouth? I saw his miserable flirting when we were at Glastonbury, there's no way he did it."

"You believe it or not, he made it. So, I hope your credit card is handy." Ginger said very calmly, although she was controlling herself very hard not to laugh openly.

It took you a few seconds after the kiss to get your mind back on track. It had definitely been worth it not to go home to watch Me Before You with a pot of KFC. You didn't hurry to take your hands off Jack's shoulders, just as he didn't bother to let go of your face and continued stroking your cheek.

"Can I ask you a question?" you questioned in a slightly husky voice and he nodded in response "Do you have plans after here?"

"Actually, I don't." Jack answered promptly and brought his face a little closer to yours "And, considering your question, I assume you don't have any plans either, so I guess we can find something to do together."

"It was exactly what I was thinking." you admitted, unconsciously adjusting the collar of his jacket. Jack smiled and stroked your forearm with his fingertips.

"Look, give me a minute to talk to my friends to make sure everyone can go home safe and then we can spend the rest of the night however you please. Sound good, sugar?" you nodded at the same time, liking the proposal a lot.

"Sounds pretty good to be honest." you said sincerely.

"I'll be right back" Jack grabbed your wrist and kissed the back of your hand before getting up and walking over to the friends’ table.

You couldn't help but smile when you thought more about the situation. This man seemed too good to be true. He had the same sense of humor as you, he approached you in a really friendly way without acting like a predator, he listened to you complain about your day without even knowing you, even though he was about to go home with you he cared about making sure his friends would be okay, and he was certainly the most handsome man you'd ever seen in Louisville. You couldn't see any downside to spending the rest of the night with him.

Eggsy crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes as he saw Whiskey approaching the table with a satisfied smile.

“You fucking dickhead. How did you do that?” Eggsy looked more shocked than ever. Jack laughed and shook his head at the boy's indignation.

"You had a chance to quit, kid. Now all that's left is for you to develop a beautiful friendship with the Statesman’s horses." Whiskey said as he leaned his hands on the table. Eggsy rested his head on one hand.

"You left your girl alone just to come and piss me off?" the boy's British accent sounded more drawn out than ever.

"Not really. I just came to make sure y’all can make it home safely."

"Don't worry. The only one down is our British boy." Tequila said alternating his glance between Jack and Eggsy.

"Nothing we can't take care of." Ginger stated quietly.

"Will you guys take care of me? Awn, I love you guys." Totally groggy, Eggsy laid his head on Ginger's shoulder.

"It just gets better." Ginger laughed and looked at Whiskey "We'll survive our drunken child."

"Good luck with that." Whiskey said as he straightened his posture "See y’all on Monday."

After saying goodbye to his friends, Whiskey returned to the counter, stopping next to you.

"Shall we?" he asked holding out one of his hands to you.

"Sure." you took his hand and stood, smiling involuntarily when Jack intertwined his fingers with yours as the two of you walked out of the bar.

You cringed involuntarily as you felt the cold night air hit your arms, regretting leaving your coat at work. Noticing the chill on your arms, Jack released your hand and removed his jacket, slipping it over your shoulders.

“Thank you.” you thanked with flushed cheeks.

"Whenever you need, sugar." He kissed your forehead and held your hand again as you walked to the car.

It was no surprise to you that he drove a 70's Bronco, it was a good match. Whiskey opened the car door for you, waiting for you to get into the passenger seat, and closed the door, then walked around the vehicle.

Given the hour the street was empty, which allowed for a continuous commute. You leaned your head back on the seat and closed your eyes, feeling the wind ruffle your hair, and were able to relax for the first time that day. When the car stopped at the traffic light, you opened your eyes and looked in Jack's direction, smiling as you noticed that his gaze was already on you.

"You haven't had just one bad day, have you?" he asked leaning his hand on your knee. You shook your head negatively.

"My whole week has been a shit. I can't remember the last time I wanted to throw it all away before Wednesday." you admitted, placing your hand over Whiskey's.

"Which institution is responsible for making you so upset, honey?" the affectionate tone in his voice surely melted you a little more.

"Frazier Museum. I like my job, but sometimes things get complicated, especially when your partners use their friendship with you to leave everything for you to solve." Whiskey turned the hand that was on your leg to entwine his fingers in yours, gently stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. You looked down with a smile, unable to ignore the fact that your hand almost disappeared into his.

"It's probably none of my business, but I'm going to insist on suggesting that you review your friends list. I mean, they stress you out all week and don't even deign to accompany you to the bar on a Friday night?" Jack said slightly indignantly, alternating his attention between you and the avenue.

"You're probably right. I'm aware that they're a bunch of sons of bitches, but I guess I've convinced myself that I'm not going to get anything better and I've settled into this situation." you frowned for a moment as you noticed that only now you had realized how much your friends couldn't really be called that.

"I don't want to sound inconvenient, but in case you're going to renew your social circle, my schedule is free." Whiskey said solemnly, despite the smirk on his face.

"I'll take it." though the playful tone, you were serious "That's the first decent conversation I've had with anyone here in months."

"Count me in for a talk anytime." he kept his smirk but his tone made it clear that it was true.

"Since that's the case, I need to touch on an important matter. I don't want to sound like someone who pays attention to what I shouldn't but that's not the keychain that usually comes with the drinks." you said, looking at the keychain in the car for a moment and then turning back to look at Jack "Let me guess, you work at Statesman Distillery."

"Again, you're right." he glanced at you briefly as he spoke.

"I don't mean to abuse your sympathy, but I haven't been able to find a bottle of the 1963 Statesman Reserve anywhere in Louisville and I feel like you might be able to get me one." you said bluntly. Dealing with your weekly stress demanded quality booze. Jack genuinely laughed at your sincerity and nodded in agreement.

"I really didn't expect that." he said with an amused smile "You're not the only one with this problem, out of every ten calls at the distillery office, nine are to complain about the lack of the '63 reservation."

"I was pretty close to being the next one to call to complain." you stated in a laughing tone "What caused it anyway?"

"I can't blame you; I'd do the same." Whiskey raised his eyebrows slightly, looking at you as he stopped at another traffic light "We had a problem with the company that prints the labels, fortunately it's been taken care of. And you’re in luck, I must have two or three bottles at home, I can give you one." you couldn't help but smile broadly at the statement.

"I knew that a southern gentleman wouldn't deny help to a lady in need of good quality whiskey." you spoke as if it was something vital, not containing your laughter "But seriously, you will be contributing to the non-existence of my criminal record."

"Great, that will be my good deed for the week." Jack joked as he parked in front of his house "At this point, I think there’s something you will find interesting to know. At Statesman we have this thing where we nickname each person after some different drink."

"If you're going to tell me you're whiskey, I might as well bury what's left of my dignity here in your garden." you ended up laughing, feeling your cheeks burn.

"I'm not going to say it then, but it is." he winked at you and got out of the car, going to open the door for you.

"Considering your name is Jack, I get the joke and find it amazing, honestly," you admitted.

"If you thought that was amazing," Whiskey opened the door on your side of the car and leaned his arm on it "how much more enjoyable will it be if I tell you my last name is Daniels?"

“You’re fucking kidding me. There’s no way.” you were in disbelief, but at the same time laughing about it "Prove it and I'll turn it into a museum exhibition on Monday."

"As you wish, dear." he reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, then handed the driver's license to you.

"No way." you stated after reading his name at least three times to make sure you weren't reading it wrong "Ok, nothing else can shock me after that." you said laughing and handed back his driver's license.

"I will be waiting for my exhibition at the museum." Jack said as seriously as he could, putting his wallet back in his pocket and extending his hand to you.

"I think I'm going to need a longer deadline because by Monday I still won't have processed this information." you tried to speak as if it were really something serious, but your smiling expression did not allow such a thing. You took his hand and got out of the car. "But honestly, this just makes me surer that I really like whiskey, no matter which bottle it comes in." You had long ago given up disguising your interest in him, and even if you were going to try, your dilated pupils staring at him would give you away.

"I'm happy to help you analyze your preferences." Whiskey teased with a smirk and hugged you around the waist, gently pressing his lips to yours and making you sigh audibly. He kissed your forehead and then the two of you walked to the front door of the house, Jack keeping one hand on your back as he opened the door.

You looked around as you entered the living room, briefly analyzing the rustic décor, if not for the view of the street that the large windows provided, you might believe you were on a ranch in a country town.

Your focus changed when you felt Jack's hands carefully remove the jacket from around your shoulders.

"Be aware that with each passing minute you convince me more to drop in occasionally to visit you." you turned to look at him.

"That's the idea. I won't complain about having a stunning woman walking around my house." Whiskey tilted his head and deposited a kiss on the curve of your neck, causing goose bumps all over your skin.

"I won't accept complaints when you've had enough of my presence," you teased, taking the hat off his head and putting it on yours, knowing full well what that meant, and you enjoyed watching a mischievous grin form on his lips. "I know the rule, by the way." you winked at him and turned, starting to walk across the room. Jack took a deep breath and bit his lip hard, caught by surprise at your sincerity. He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, crossing the room and sat on the armrest of the sofa, watching your every move.

You stopped walking when you got in front of the sideboard, looking carefully at the bottles of alcohol, not taking long to find the bottles of Statesman from the '63 reserve.

"You didn't lie about the reserved Statesman." you said still looking at the bottles.

"I wouldn't dare lie to a woman like you," Jack's deep voice echoed through the room.

"What do you mean a woman like me?" you questioned after turning to look at him.

"Smart, observant, perceptive, good at connecting information, attentive." just when you thought this man couldn't positively surprise you anymore, here he was assigning you more than three adjectives without having to include your appearance among them to make the list longer.

"This coming from a man who has noticed the remnants of my accent even though I have spent the last ten years speaking English." Whiskey shrugged, running his tongue over his lips.

"It's fair game after all." Jack concluded without hesitation.

"It definitely is." you agreed as you walked over to him, stopping beside the couch and sitting sideways on his lap. Surprisingly you managed to keep a neutral expression when you felt something hard in his jeans and it definitely wasn't his phone. "I hope you were serious about the whole me visiting you thing." you started to speak, passing your arms around his neck "Because I got really comfortable here." you looked down for a second as you said "here", making it clear what you were referring to.

"I’ve never been more serious in my life." Whiskey placed a hand on your thigh and encircled your body with his arm " You're welcome here anytime you want."

Finishing with your remaining breath, he kissed you hungrily, pressing your body against his. After a few moments, you realized that you were mounted on his lap, although you couldn't tell when you were settled that way. But you didn't think it was bad position, the occasional rubbing of his erection between your legs that occurred at this angle was definitely not something you'd complain about.

In the brief moment of clarity you had when Whiskey stood holding you tight against him, you also realized that at some point his Stetson had fallen out of your head. You sank your face into the curve of Jack's neck as he led you into the bedroom, his scent was inexplicably addictive.

Once in the bedroom, he carefully placed you on the bed, and took advantage of the fact that his hands were free to get rid of his own shirt and boots. Whiskey was about to unbutton his jeans, but your idle hands were faster. He didn't protest and just watched with full attention as you sat down on the bed to remove his jeans and didn't hesitate to stroke his hard cock over his boxers. He groaned in response to your touch, keeping his eye on what you were doing. You took that as a positive answer and allowed yourself to dare a little more, staring at Jack shamelessly as you removed his underwear. You couldn't resist finding out what it felt like to hold his hard cock with nothing in the way of contact, running your thumb over the tip and already imagining what it would feel like to have it buried entirely in your cunt.

He would gladly enjoy the situation for a few long minutes, but there was something he wanted even more at that moment. Gently he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from his cock. Whiskey made sure to look into your eyes as he deposited a kiss on the back of your hand and then he didn't even hesitate to suck your index finger. Your mouth was slightly open as you looked at Jack with baited breath. You were practically mesmerized by how stunning that man could be doing anything. And if you were already wet before, now you were undoubtedly soaked.

Without difficulty, he grabbed you around the waist and made you kneel on the bed. With no hesitation, Whiskey pulled off your dress and tossed it somewhere, then he grabbed your chin and kissed you even more intensely than before. You felt a shiver run down your spine when Jack brought a hand up to your back and unhooked your bra, freeing you from it without a second thought.

He took hold of your hips and settled you in the middle of the bed, resting his body on top of yours without interrupting the kiss. You moaned into Whiskey's mouth as your already sensitive nipples brushed against his chest. And this certainly did not go unnoticed by him. Jack moved his mouth to your neck and you sank your hands into his hair, not knowing whether it was the wet kisses on your neck or the feel of his mustache scratching deliciously at your skin that gave you the chills.

Whiskey caressed the sides of your body as he covered your breast with his mouth, slowly running his tongue over your nipple. You closed your eyes and pressed your lips together, trying vehemently not to moan out loud, gripping his hair tightly. Due to his attention to your every slightest movement, Jack realized how hard you were struggling to control yourself.

You were able to breathe more calmly when he touched your face and took his mouth off your breast, you opened your eyes and saw him propped up on his elbows, looking up at you with a tender expression.

"You don't have to try to be quiet, love. I’ll gladly listen to every moan and scream that comes from you." It was fascinating to you how sweet he could be to make a reasonably obscene declaration, and all you could do was nod in response.

He kissed your jaw and calmly ran his mouth down your neck and chest before sucking your breast again. You kept your hands in his hair and finally allowed yourself to moan as you really wanted to. Whiskey stroked your hips in response and let his free hand massage your other breast.

Despite pulling his hair harder and harder, you relaxed under his touch, feeling good like you haven't felt in a long time. Your body began to move involuntarily, and you could feel your womb reacting more and more to it all.

"Jack, please." was the longest sentence you could form, and you said it practically whimpering. He smiled against your skin and deposited a kiss on your breast before raising his head to look at you. Whiskey intended to tease you a little more before moving on, but when you opened your eyes and looked up at him with such a pleading expression, he knew he wouldn't have the heart to deny you the relief you so desperately wanted.

He spared no kisses as he made his way to where you needed him. You couldn't resist your curiosity and lifted your torso to watch him work on you. Being so self-confident and vain, Jack kept looking into your eyes as he pulled off your panties and positioned himself between your legs, kissing the inner part of your thighs, acting calmly while making you shiver all over.

"Jack" you called him in a wavering voice "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course, honey." he replied solicitously "What do you need?" you flinched a little before asking, wondering if it would sound too silly. Finally, you held out one hand to him.

"Would you..." your mind kept screaming how stupid that was, and you agreed as you realized what you were about to ask. You were ready to shrug your arm and die of shame for thinking that was a good idea, but he was quicker and held your hand in the most loving way anyone could. You couldn't hold back the wide smile that formed on your face. For heaven's sake, this man was definitely the best thing that ever happened to you in a bar.

"It's okay." Jack entwined his fingers in yours and kissed your wrist "Feel free to ask anything you want, sugar."

"You're going to spoil me if you keep being so supportive." you said in a joking tone, but it was more serious than you'd like to admit.

"But that's the goal. I was serious about wanting you around." you waited for him to laugh or make it clear that he was just mocking you, but he seemed sincere. And you honestly didn't know how to handle that possibility.

"I guess I could consider the idea." you couldn't hide your genuine interest in the direction things might take "But you'd have to give me a few more reasons to think about it." you couldn't help but tease him a little.

"If what I need to have you with me often is to convince you that it will be worth it, then let me convince you emphatically." before you could formulate a response, he buried his tongue in your cunt, giving you no choice but to cry out in a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

He was in no hurry, Whiskey had confidence in what he was doing and frankly you couldn't blame him, after all, you were wriggling around on the bed while moaning audibly, squeezing his hand as hard as you could, and the closest he had ever come to your clit were the two or three times his nose bumped into it as his tongue worked its way into your soaked folds.

It wasn't easy, but you managed to keep yourself propped up on one elbow as you watched his every move, you certainly liked the idea of having that view more frequently. Jack couldn't have been enjoying the situation more, being between your thighs while you looked into his eyes was heaven for him. You could see him flash a satisfied smirk and should've seen what was about to come.

“Puta que pariu.” you cursed as you collapsed on the bed when he licked your clit, too overcome with pleasure to be able to speak English. Whiskey had no idea what the words meant, but from your intonation he was sure it was something dirty.

You frowned and raised your head slightly in confusion when his mouth left you.

"Is there a problem?" you asked confused and he denied with his head.

"Just a request. You keep looking at me." he said so firmly that your only reaction was to nod readily, almost like a natural reflex. Under other circumstances your pride would never allow you to obey so easily, but his satisfied smile at your condescension caused you so many things that you couldn't care less about your pride.

It was more challenging than you expected to keep your eyes open when he resumed what he was doing. The situation of looking into Jack's eyes as he licked you like a hungry man would do was the obscenest thing you had ever experienced. And you definitely weren't complaining. Despite the slightly trembling legs and irregular breathing, you coped well with keeping your eyes open and it was noticeable that you took Whiskey's words seriously, since quite possibly the neighbors were listening to your little show, moaning his name amidst the most varied dirty words in an almost incomprehensible mixture of English and Portuguese.

When you were close to the edge, things got a little more intense and you closed your eyes, but were reminded that you shouldn't do that when you felt Jack tap your thigh twice. It was hard to open your eyes and even harder to keep them open, at this point your nails were digging into the back of his hand and you were pulling his hair possibly harder than you should have, but he didn't seem bothered, on the contrary, he seemed very happy to have your thighs squeezing his head. You couldn't control the involuntary movement of your hips when he slid two fingers inside you, making you moan even louder, even though you thought it wasn't possible.

“Puta merda.” at this point you were no longer able to know which language you should use, not even your full name you would be able to say by now “Jack, please.” you were not sure what you were asking, but you no longer had control over what you were saying.

You were sure that Jack knew what you needed when you felt him curve his fingers inside you with precision and hit the right spot. You arched your back and let out a cry as the orgasm overtook your body, making your legs tremble, and finally you collapsed on the bed, trying to cope with the intensity of the sensation.

Whiskey smiled broadly as he took a closer look at the mess you were, your irregular breathing, your fingers still clutching his hand reasonably tightly, the little spasms that still affected your body, and your hair that earlier in that night had perfectly aligned waves, was now totally disheveled and some strands sticking to your forehead from the sweat. He took his fingers from you carefully, knowing how sensitive you still were, and licked every drop of your taste from them. Jack settled himself next to you on the bed, disentangling his fingers from yours to caress the back of your hand. You opened your eyes, looking up at him with eyes shining, both from your genuine satisfaction and from the tears that had formed a few moments ago.

“You’re okay?” he stroked your cheek with his free hand, drying the one tear that persisted in falling with his thumb.

"Honestly, I can't remember the last time I felt this good," you admitted feeling your cheeks flush and sank your face against his chest "But we have a problem." you said tilting your head back to look at him "Since you've decided to get me on shaky legs, we're going to have to negotiate compliance with the hat rule." you said with a mischievous expression, although it was true. God knows how much you wanted to ride this cowboy, but you didn't count on the fact that he would leave you with weak legs before he even fucked you. Whiskey chuckled and pulled you onto him, holding your thighs.

"Unfortunately, that's not how things work, sweetheart." he sat on the bed, letting you mounted on his thighs "You can't expect to mess with a man's hat and get away with it." even though he spoke with a firm tone, the little smirk that persisted in forming at the corner of his mouth gave away his enjoyment of it.

"I understand that." you said as you passed your arms around his neck "But you've been a gentleman all night, I think we can come to an agreement that will please both of us." If it weren't for the feeling of his rigid length pressed against your thigh, you might believe that this was a serious conversation.

"You're right, honey. We can both get quite satisfied out of this." you smiled as he put one of his hands on your lower back and pulled you closer, while his other hand held your chin and he rested his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes "You're so beautiful, darling." You felt your cheeks burning but you had nowhere to run, your only option was to stare into Jack's tender and desirous gaze.

"You'll end up stealing my heart if you keep this up," you joked, although you were aware that that man could steal even your soul with that pair of brown eyes. Whiskey laughed and nibbled on your chin.

"If I accomplish this feat, I'll die a happy man." he concluded the statement by kissing the corner of your mouth and then kissed your lips, holding you tight against him. Your body relaxed involuntarily in his lap; Jack's large, rough hands were incredibly gentle as they caressed your body even when he groped you firmly. You scratched his back and moaned audibly as Whiskey sat you on his cock, at that moment making sure that you were going to comply with the hat rule. Although your body was still a little sluggish from the orgasm you had just a few minutes ago, having that man inside you was unexpectedly invigorating.

Despite your desire for him being gigantic, you still were in no condition to ride him the way you wanted to and Jack knew that. Being a helpful gentleman, he held your hips and helped you move, which took your breath away completely. You didn't want to stop kissing him, but your lungs needed some relief. You rested your forehead on Whiskey's shoulder, finally taking a deep breath and realizing that, even though it wasn't going to be an easy task, you needed more of this man. You took another deep breath before straightening up and looking at him. You couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach as you noticed how much his desire for you was evident on his face. You stood staring into Jack's eyes as you moved on his lap, still not believing how comfortable he had made you to the point where you lost every drop of your shyness.

At this point you weren't even trying to control your sordid thoughts, but you definitely didn't expect to let one of them escape out loud.

"Hold my neck." you asked involuntarily when he squeezed one of your thighs, and the way Whiskey smiled sideways and didn't hesitate to comply with your request made you feel your whole body burning in a very good way. He put just a slight pressure on the sides of your neck, but it was enough to make you moan loudly and tighten your cunt around him.

You were already on the verge of losing control and hearing him moan while grabbing your ass with his free hand was the last straw. No longer thinking clearly, you grabbed onto Jack's strong arms and rode this cowboy avidly as you had desired from the first moment you saw him in that bar.

Whiskey couldn't have been more pleased. He liked being the one in control, but his nature would never allow him to see any disadvantage in having a beautiful woman riding him. He paid attention to every detail of that magnificent scene, absorbed in everything he could notice: the way you closed your eyes and threw your head back; your flushed face and bust; the way your breasts swayed beautifully each time your hips moved up and down; your buttocks slapping against his thighs produced the most delicious sound he could hear that night. For God's sake, if Jack kept thinking so hard about how hot you looked riding him desperately in search of your relief, he wouldn't be able to last much longer. He had good distractions right in front of him and he didn't hesitate to entertain himself with them.

You could only grip his hair tightly when you felt Jack's mustache lightly scratch your shoulder and he began to distribute kisses, bites and hickeys all over your skin. He was in no hurry as he tasted the warm skin of your shoulder, then down your collarbone and into the space between your breasts. Although your knees were propped up on the bed, you could feel them trembling as Whiskey carefully nibbled your nipple and licked it soon after. This man was definitely good at everything he did with his mouth.

You couldn't handle it anymore; it was too much. Not just because had been a long time since you’ve had sex with someone, but because this was way better than you’ve expected. Jack was fucking handsome, handsome enough to make you cum without a lot of effort, however he seemed really dedicated to please you. He quickly learned what you liked and didn’t flinch before use the acquired knowledge. You took his hand that was in your ass and moved it to the front of your body, needing just a little more to reach the climax. Whiskey understood immediately want you wanted him to do and promptly moved his fingers to your clit, making you grab his forearm while your nails sank in the skin of his shoulder. As if you aren’t dizzy enough, Jack kissed you intensely and put a bit more pressure on the fingers around your neck. You whimpered and moaned in his mouth as you had the second orgasm of the night, not being able to move your hips anymore and letting your body collapse on his lap. Jack passed one arm around your waist and caressed your back, pressing a gentle kiss on your temple while patiently waited for your body to stop shaking and your breath to calm down. It took a few moments, but finally you managed to put yourself together. You straightened up and looked at Jack with a wide smile, just to find him smiling too.

“I’ll assume that I ain’t no longer in debt for stealing your hat.” you tilted your head slightly to the side, still smiling.

“You definitely have paid your debit.” he answered with soft voice “But that doesn’t mean we’re done for tonight, sugar.” before you could even think about, Jack rolled on the bed, letting you underneath him. Only now you paid attention to the most specific details, realizing that this man still fucking hard inside you and you enjoyed it really much, even if you were almost sure that you’ll be unable to walk tomorrow.

“I hope you know that I won’t be able to go home tonight.” you warned as you ran one of your hands through the hair that fell across his forehead.

“Even if you were, do ya really think that I’d miss the opportunity to sleep with the most stunning woman of this city in my bed?” Whiskey admitted with a smirk, sliding a hand over your arm just to reach your hand and interlace his fingers with yours “I’ll not waste any chance to have you close, honey.” you ran your tongue across your lips, really appreciating all of this.

“Very well, cowboy. I suppose I can spend the whole weekend here.” you tried to sound playful, but at this point you really wanted to spend more time with him.

“I like this perspective really much.” Jack affirmed with his forehead resting on yours, pressing a kiss in your lips “And I hope to please you enough to make you consider spending the rest of the week too.” he whispered and winked at you, resting his free hand in your thigh and kissing you. You pulled a lock of his hair and let out a content sigh when Jack started to move in a calm pace, stroking the back of you hand with his thumb. His body was pressed against yours, although he did not let the weight fall on you.

You tried to suppress your thoughts and feelings, but it became impossible with him being so loving. It was almost insane how much you felt comfortable and safe with him in such a short period of time. You only realized that you had tears running down you cheeks when you felt Jack drying one of them. You opened your eyes, totally ashamed and having no idea how you were going to apologize for this, but then you realized that this wouldn’t be necessary when you saw Jack with a little wrinkle between his eyebrows and a slightly worried expression.

“You’re okay, sweetheart?” he asked louder than a whisper, cupping your cheek with his hand. You nodded and sank your hand in his hair, thinking about the right words before you started to speak.

“I know this will sound so fucking stupid, specially considering that we only met a couple of hours ago, but it’s been a while since the last time I’ve felt so good and comfortable around someone. I guess I just got overwhelmed with everything. I'm not really used to being treated well.” you didn't know why you admitted the last part and looked away from Jack when you realized what you had said, even if it was the truth. You smiled when he kissed your forehead and somehow built up the courage to look into Whiskey's eyes again.

"Considering that earlier this evening you secured me a place in your new social circle, I don't think you'll have to worry about that anymore because, if you allow me, I'll make sure you feel that way every day." This was definitely not the answer you were expecting, but you undoubtedly liked the whole concept.

"Yes, absolutely yes!" you readily agreed "Even though it's been a very short time since we've met, I like the way things are working out."

"You have no idea how happy that answer makes me. And, after all, who is measuring how much is a short time?" and that was enough for you. Fuck that it had only been a few hours, you wanted Jack close to you and he made it very clear that he had no intention of moving away from you either. You didn’t give a shit about anything else.

You certainly caught Jack off guard when you held the hair on the back of his neck firmly and kissed him intensely, but he didn't think twice before responding.

Only when you softened under him, and began to rock your hips involuntarily, Jack began to move inside you again, causing you to sink your nails into the back of his neck (which would surely leave a mark) and squeeze his hand with reasonable force.

Whiskey was aware that your thighs would certainly be sore the next day and he really had no intention of making the situation worse, but the sight of you arching your back and begging for more broke his benevolent spirit. Jack hooked one of your legs around his waist and smiled sideways when you voluntarily hooked the other leg around him. He held your hip tightly, sure to leave a bruise or two on your skin, but neither of you could care less.

"Jack, you said I could ask for anything I wanted, right?" you inquired with ragged breaths and a half shaky voice.

"Yes, love. Anything you want," he replied without turning his face away from yours, and the mixture of his raspy voice and gasping breath only made you more certain of what you were about to ask.

“Then, please, fuck me as hard as you can. I can’t deal with this torturing slow pace anymore.” if you had any crumb of pride left, at that moment it was gone. You no longer cared about pride or dignity, the only important matter was your urgent need to see and feel him fucking you as the rough cowboy he was.

“You’re sure? You’ll be terribly sore tomorrow.” Jack wanted to fulfill your request so badly, but he needed to be certain that you knew what you were asking for.

“If I gave a shit about the consequences, I wouldn’t have ridden you with so much effort. Go ahead, cowboy. I can handle it.” The almost devilish grin that was present at the corner of his mouth gave you the assurance that he wouldn't disappoint you. Jack kissed you one more time before he lifted his torso and knelt between your legs. He continued to hold your hand, and you couldn't deny that the ease with which he lifted your hips using only one arm was a highly memorable sight.

Jack Daniels was certainly a gentleman, but he was also a damn teaser. He knew how desperate you were for more, so he started moving even slower, curious for your reaction. You leaned your elbow on the bed to face him better, and narrowed your eyes at the satisfied and proud smile on that beautiful face.

“You’re such a bast- Caralho!” you didn't get a chance to finish the sentence when he finally gave you what you wanted so badly. You grabbed the sheet with your free hand and had no pity as you dug your nails into the back of his hand. It was an almost impossible effort, but you kept your torso up, you needed to watch every detail of every single time Jack buried his cock in your pussy and then pulled almost all of it out just to enter you again vigorously, making audible the sound of his thighs slapping against your ass. If the pleasure wasn't so overwhelming, you might have paid attention to how much your quadriceps seemed to be burning; definitely at least a week of painkillers and not even thinking about wearing heels. But honestly? It would be worth it.

Just when you thought the scene couldn't get any more pleasurable, you raised your gaze to Jack's face and holy shit, the man managed to be even more attractive with his skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat and his once-milimetrically aligned hair now totally messed up and sticking to his forehead. And as if it wasn't almost a crime that he looked so attractive, Jack made sure you noticed his gaze admiring every bit of your body until it stopped at your face, looking into your eyes as he fucked you.

At this point you almost lamented how good he was at what he did because you really wished you could hold on a little longer, but your legs were already starting to shake and the spasms were getting more frequent and, judging by Jack's grip on your hand, he was close to the limit as well.

"Jack" you just nodded, not needing to say anything more for him to understand what you wanted. He leaned over on the bed, laying his body on yours and resting his forehead on yours, still holding your hips. You released the sheet only to sink your hand into his hair, at this point you no longer had the strength to pull at the brown strands. You kept looking into his eyes as long as you could until you sank your face into Jack's neck when the orgasm came, screaming his name along with an almost incomprehensible stream of obscenities in a mixture of Portuguese and English. You scratched lightly at the back of his neck as he squeezed your hips harder, entering you one last time and letting out a hoarse moan as he came deep inside you.

Jack released your hip and propped his hand on the mattress, kissing your shoulder as he caught his breath. You sighed as you curled his hair in your fingers and kissed the curve of his neck before laying your head on the pillow.

"Changed your mind about the weekend?" he joked as he looked at you, kissing the point of your chin.

"If by changed my mind you mean started considering spending next weekend here too, then yes." you replied with a smile, speaking in a lazy voice.

"I'll be waiting anxiously, honey." he said before pressed his lips gently in yours. Jack caressed the back of your hand and carefully deinterlaced his fingers from yours.

He pulled out of you slowly and got up from the bed, you couldn't help but stare straight at his ass as Jack walked to the bathroom. Now that the excitement had passed, you were beginning to feel your body heavy, especially your legs and your eyelids. You closed your eyes for a moment and relaxed back into bed, knowing that it would take no effort to fall asleep.

"Honey?" you heard Jack call, running his fingertips along your thigh.

"Yes?" you replied keeping your eyes closed.

"Just making sure you're awake." he replied as he gently spread your legs a little further apart, carefully beginning to clean you up. It was still almost a mystery to you how gentle this man could be after fucking you so hard. When he finished what he was doing, he planted a kiss on your knee, making you smile and finally open your eyes.

"Definitely a gentleman," you said with a satisfied expression on your face.

"Unfortunately, I can't say anything similar about you, Miss." you frowned uncomprehendingly, and he approached his face closer to yours "Next time you're going to stare at my ass, at least try to disguise it," he said as if it was something really serious and nibbled your jaw.

"I needed to make sure those jeans do justice to it." you replied with a crooked smile.

"Okay, you have a good point." he laughed rolling his eyes and walked back to the bathroom only to throw the towel he had cleaned you with into the laundry basket and turn off the light, as well as the lights in the bedroom. He closed the curtains to make sure that the sun wouldn't be responsible for waking you both up earlier than necessary and finally returned to the bed, laying down beside you and draping the comforter over both of you. You settled on your side and couldn't help but look at him with an expression that betrayed that you wanted something. Jack smiled, fluffing up his own pillow, and stretched his arm toward you, patting his own shoulder. "Come here." You didn't hesitate to cuddle up against him and lay your head on his chest, still fascinated by how easily he could guess what you wanted.

"I hope you don't mind if I casually sleep in until two in the afternoon," you said, raising your head slightly to look at him.

"Very kind of you to think that I'll be up before five in the afternoon." Jack replied as he stroked your cheek with his thumb, then he moved a little closer just to kiss you softly.

Once the kiss was finished, he put his arms around you and let his face rest against the top of your head. You settled down, practically hidden in his embrace, and rested your head comfortably on his chest.

"Good night, sugar."

"Good night, cowboy."

Then, concentrating on his heartbeat, you drifted placidly off to sleep.

[candywife333]

Our Lord and Savior.........Garlic

TO RELEASE IN DECEMBER

[TEASER]

Pairing: 1000 year old arrogant vampire Jin x chubby reader (who is obsessed with garlic and Italian food)

Warning: explicit words used

I crept into the mortal's room. She was a horribly chubby little being that resembled an overstufffed turkey, currently snoozing away wrapped in her duvet. I tilted my head to take a better look at her, she really did look like she was a piglet in a blanket. Though I really hated the fat humans (due to what I considered to be their inferior taste) , this one really did intrigue me.

She smelled of peaches, vanilla, and rum. Strange combination that became slowly addictive to my senses. At least that's what my vampiric nose told me anyway. She was a prude. Completely covered in a long white cotton nightgown, and then again concealed by a comfy looking (but very inconvenient) blanket.

How the hell was I supposed to navigate this situation? I had dealt with extracting blood from modest humans in the past. But that was something like 200 odd years ago. I didn't particularly remember how I did it then, the technique was lost to me. The modern age had lent itself to the discovery of shorter night clothes leading to convenience for sucking blood.

The girl was surely not making my life any easier. Was it too much to ask for scantily clothed prey who I could slurp blood away from by the gallon?

As I got closer to her bed, trying to ascertain what angle to pierce her neck at, I heard sniffling and then a set of wide eyes sleepily fixing on my form.

Oh no!!! I was violating all the codes!! I could not under any circumstance be seen by a mortal. How did this mortal even open her eyes when I had bestowed upon her a sleep incantation?

I heard a squeal beneath me and saw the human scurry away from me, scared , as red as a tomato. She bellowing out , "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU VAMPIRE!!! BE GONE FROM MY CASTLE YOU IMPUDENT SCUM OF THE EARTH!! HEATHEN!! INFIDEL"!!

Why the hell was this girl acting like she was in the 18th century? What was this behavior? And this language was way too anachronistic, even for a vampire as old as me. Before I could respond to her accusations, she continued shrieking, " I SHALL CASTRATE YOU IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER"!

Ok, that for sure was a new and bold threat. Hadn't heard that one ever. She got points for creativity. She waved around a cross that was around her neck strapped to a thin gold chain. Well this was more typical of most religious victims I came across.

Then the girl proceeded to do something so unholy---even by my standards. Yes people, even I have standards as unlikely as it may seem.

So decrepit.

So unexpected.

She must be insane, that was the only explanation.

Even an immortal of my age had never seen this tactic before. She whipped up her night gown in a flurry, exposing her.....wet pussy to my eyes. For a second, I was confused by the exquisitely provocative sight.... till I caught the scent. The toxic scent of ..............garlic.

But the scent was emanating from her pussy?!!!! What type of sorcery was this?!!!

She hysterically cackled out, "GOT YOU, YOU DEMON! I ate so much garlic today from Olive Garden that you will rue your life, if you come too close to me. GARLIC BREATH AND GARLIC PUSSY SHALL BE THE END OF YOU, YOU EVIL CREATURE"!!!

I stood there confused. She was right about the garlic for sure. It definitely wasn't a preference of mine, along with ginger. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And I had never been one to turn down a meal. Clearly she had miscalculated.

[nixor3o]

Small lil 8k fic of ren x two if my ocs!!!

The first night Marceline had an urge to go out and be social, she acted on it.

Dressing up in a cute short black dress that hugged her curves, cute red flats that matched her red lipstick, and beautiful gold jewelry that made her brown skin glow.

She looked good and she knew it.

She walked with confidence, sat directly in the middle of the bar and just waited for the free offers she knew she would get soon. Almost on cue, a short ginger man took the seat next to her with two drinks, "You aren't my type" she sighed breathlessly "I don't have to be for you to drink with me... You haven't even ordered yet" He shot back. While she wasn't necessarily attracted to him, she couldn't refuse his charm and charisma.

She glanced at the drinks he'd brought her, she assumed a rum and coke by the appearance. Carely paying attention to what drink his eyes were fixated on, she took the other drink. They both made a toast to life and drank. His yellow eyes did not leave her lips as she pressed them against the rim of the glass. He bought her a few more drinks, and seemed to leave her alone.

Good.

A couple minutes passed and Marceline's vision started blurring, the room felt like the room was spinning. 'Shit I shouldn't have had that last one, I need to go home' She stumbled out of her chair, thanking her choice to not wear heels. She pushed the door open and started her way home.

Walking was becoming more and more difficult, bumping into the wall, tripping over her feet, losing her senses. She didn't realize the extra set of footsteps following behind her.

Footsteps getting closer. She was grabbed by the arm, leading her into an ally before she was thrown onto the cold hard gravel. She used all her remaining strength to lift her head up to look at the person who was zip tying her legs together, but it was nothing more than a blurry black figure.

She felt sharp nails graze up her legs, agonizingly slow. The feeling of hands moving under her dress was distracting from the plastic digging in her skin. His hands ripped away before grabbing the back of Marceline’s head and shoving her back into the cold gravel. A soft chuckle was all she heard and her arms were forced behind her back, and she was lifted into the trunk of a car.

Marceline had woken up in a grimy dark basement. Fear. "Where?.." Her eyes adjusted and pain throbbed in her head. She was tied to a pole.

Soft taps of footsteps overhead and a door. A moment of paralyzing anxiety before the door flung open. The man from the bar, this time with a sickening smile, red marks on his face and fox ears and tail that moved hypnotically as he talked. "Well we'll see how the night ends... it ends with you in my basement." he sighed disgustingly sweet, she couldn't stand to look at him. “What the real test is if you make it till the end of the night.”

The pain began instantaneously. He cut her with such ease, the blade opened up her skin and was sliding under it. "YOU FUCK, FUCK YOU, DIE, DIE!" She screamed, she kicked him as much as she could, she tried to bite his face, anything to get away from him. Anything to make this stop.

No matter what she did, nothing seemed to be enough. Whether she was polite and tried to follow orders or whether she fought back, it always led to his claws in her skin. He'd horrendously tear her flesh, and then stitch the wounds back together sweetly. Just as she would get comfortable in sweetness, he'd pour the bottle of alcohol all over her, gushing it off her still bleeding fresh wounds. By the end of the night, screaming was the only thing she could hear, she didn't even know if it was coming from her anymore.

But that was 4 years ago.

Marceline had given up on getting her old life back, it wasn't awful 24/7, only the nights she woke up in the basement. Other than that she co-existed with the annoying man, the biggest downside was the bulky shock collar on her neck stopping her from doing practically everything. Said something to mean? Shocked. Fought back? Shocked. In rooms unannounced? Shocked. The worst one she couldn't even touch herself without him watching or she would be shocked if caught.

It was a normal night for Marceline, she was tying up another victim to the pole in the basement for her ‘roommate’ to torture.

She had grown used to this routine, but she was sick of it. "Alright dog, heavy works done, don't want you to break a nail." She yelled mockingly up the stairs, accidentally waking up the woman she just tied up.

She walked up the stairs with ease, ignoring the muffled cries for help that followed her. She opened the door. Ren was standing there making sure his mask was on properly. He flashed a wide grin before putting it on properly and heading down stairs with his tail wagging.

She lived her new life with a sick perverted mutt of a 'roommate.'

She couldn't hate it more.

Hours passed by, Marceline tried to drown out what she knew was happening with her shows, with her music, but the screaming always started, maybe moans mixed in, but the screaming was always enviable.

Ren had come upstairs from a really long night of streaming, he started to cook immediately after, taking his mind away from the homemade horrors within their own ‘home’. Marceline grabbed plates, cups, and silverware, began setting the table up quietly.

She knew how he expected things to go on recording nights.

Just a normal night for both of them. After they ate, she cleaned the dishes and cursed his name in one of the only times she has alone in the day.

Marceline would wait until after the dishes were done and he was fast asleep to go to her own room, and finally getting to feel the pleasure of being alone and her own hand.

It was a normal night for Maxxine,she was getting ready to meet her friends out for a night of fun.

Maxxine had gotten really used to going out on weekends, bar hopping, raving and frats; she couldn't love the scene more.

Maxxine was dancing with her friends when this short ginger male bumped into her, "I'm so so sorry!!"

"Oh I'm so sorry!!!"

They both blurted and laughed, "I'm Ren!!" "Maxxine!!" The two strangers giggled and danced together for a while, before wandering away from Max's friends into the kitchen to take a shot, they spent a bit of time together, getting to know each other, dancing, drinking, and before she knew it his hands were finding more and more comfortability on her waist, slowly finding their way down to the edge of her skirt, playing with the lace of her fishnets. His yellow eyes always followed where his hands went.

Tonight was one of Marceline's moral questioning days, she gets a break, but he goes out and breaks another victim. He's out every weekend to find pretty new women to put in his basement. Marceline hated being down there more than anything, but the screams and pleas the women let out haunt her, ‘At least it's them and not me’.

"Hey, do you wanna maybe go back to your place??" Maxxine slurred out leaning over onto him, the eager man nodded his head fast, they started on their way back bottles in hand.

Making sure she was drinking, his yellow eyes watched every sip on her lips taken from the glass.

Lips he would soon be kissing.

The clock ticked getting later and later in the night, wondering where he was. Marceline fantasized if someone had caught on to him, beating him, hurting him, all things she had wanted to do but never got the chance to with the hunk of metal on her shoulders that would shock her at any slight inconvenience of that scaredy-cat ren.

Once they entered his house, Maxxine was already black out drunk, too drunk to realize the other person was sitting on the couch watching them with disgust. His hands quickly found her waist, and he brought her head closer for their lips to crash. They melt into each other perfectly, Ren slowly took Max up the stairs as they giggle and shuffle up the stairs.

‘What the fuck?’ Marceline had never seen someone go with Ren anywhere, especially up stairs. ‘Shes is way too gorgeous to fuck a mutt like him’. Marceline knew it was trouble, but she carefully followed them up the stairs, listening in on the door.

He made sure to close the door behind them, he pressed Maxxine against the door, “You're so pretty” He kissed her neck, her hands moved under his shirt, taking it off with ease. With that he quickly dropped his pants, his yellow eyes the only thing shining in the dark room. His hands immediately pulled her shirt off, discarding on the floor. Her skirt was pulled down, and their body's pressed against each other, Maxxine being able to feel the hardness of Ren through his boxers, who was running his hands up and down her waist. Locking lips again in a messy passionate kiss. She ran her tongue across his mouth and licked the sharp fangs inside his mouth and brushed it off in a drunk haze.

The moaning and the banging only increased, Marceline couldn't believe that this was happening. Why was she allowed to be in his room like this or this kind of treatment? Anger and confusion swirled in her head. She was ripped away from the door when the movement against the door stopped.

Ren grabbed Maxxine by her legs, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. The feeling of her ass through the fishnets was exhilarating, he couldn't help but grope her, sinking his nails subtly into her flesh. He picked her up and carried her to his bed, laying her down carefully, never breaking their kiss for more than a second. He could feel her wetness growing through his boxers.

He finally broke the kiss, huffing and panting above her. His hands hungrily roaming all over her body, Maxxine letting out the prettiest drunk whines, the noises sent chills down his spine. The noises were also going down Marceline’s spine, driving her crazy, her head fully pressed against the door. Ren's hands ran up her legs, before he ripped her panties off and the crotch of her fishnets with no effort, leaving small cuts on her legs, blood beading from them. “You don't mind, do you?” his voice coated with a false sweetness. “Please, you can do whatever you want with me” her words slurred out of her pretty lips but he didn't care about her response, he knew she couldn't fight back anymore.

He stood over where she's lying, his yellow eyes glinting down at her like prey. He leaned to grab something that was behind her on the bed, and held a condom and something small she couldn't quite see. He ripped the package open with his teeth, tearing a corner off with his fangs. He pulled it out, eyes fixated on Maxxine's as he put it on. A wicked smile as he spat on his hand, rubbing both the condom on and the spit on along into the length of his cock till it was all wet. He lined himself up with her hole.

His hand caressed the side of her face, thumb swiping her cheek, as he slowly pushed inside of her. A snarl left his lips, the warmness was a bliss he hadn't felt in so long. The movements were sweet and gentle at first before they quickly accelerated to a rough animalistic thrusts, his hands pinning down her arms. It felt like he was getting deeper and deeper inside her, her drunken state made it feel like she was being broken in half. The moans got louder and became screams from pleasure. His mouth was sucking and biting her chest, lightly slipping her bra off. Her chest exposed, his hands quickly found their way, touching her fanatically.

Marceline sat there with her knees pressing into the floor. She couldn't see anything but the noises she made were flooding her mind. She wished she was in the room instead of that dog. Marceline knew too well the horrible things he did to his victims, she hated it so much until she saw the woman he dragged up here. Her hand mindlessly reached down in her underwear, it wasn't long before she started making soft noises, luckily being drowned out by Maxxine's screaming. This screaming for once didn't sound bad. It was really good, it was better than good, her whole bodying shaking in response. She couldn't do anything else, but try to guess what was happening to her, and imagining it was her doing it to Max instead.

Ren's hips picking up in pace faster and faster, growing rougher, he started to growl with claws now deep in her skin as he dragged his nails down. Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, noticing the man before her was different. The silhouette of ears perked up appeared and an odd fuzziness against her leg.

“What was that?” Maxxine asked, no answer. The beastkin's only response was pulling her hair and forcing his tongue into her mouth, slipping what felt like a pill down her throat, swallowing it down without realizing it. A growing panic that slowly faded, along with her vision and then her other senses. The last thing she heard was his voice, “It’s a shame, thought I'd have more time with you”.

“Fuck..” He pulled his cock out of Maxxine after watching her pass out under him and scrambled to put his back clothes on. “MARCELINE. He shouted, Marceline jumped quickly, removing her hand from her underwear as she opened the door, looking into the room in horror at the unconscious body.

“Help me move her to the basement, NOW.” His voice barked as he pointed the shock collar remote at her, causing her to flinch for a moment. She had no choice but to oblige with his command.

She took the woman, bridal style, in her arms and looked at her face. ‘How'd you go home with someone like him?’ Marceline thought, feeling a little disappointed that she got cut off so quickly. Carefully she walked down both sets of stairs and propped her up on the pole. All she could do was just stare at her.

Something about her that was such a turn on, her body sat so prettily. ‘Ren wasn't coming down for a minute’ she thought, inching closer to the unconscious woman. Marceline reached her hand back down her underwear, and started to please herself looking at the woman out cold. The pleasure quickly returned but it wasn't enough. Marceline took off her underwear, her eyes constantly glancing back and forth at the door. She grabbed a fist full of her soft purple hair, and angled her face up towards her, gently pried her mouth open and placed herself on Maxxine's mouth, letting out small moans. Getting wetter with each grind, it was sending her into a bliss. Nothing in these 4 years had ever felt so good. The idea of her not even knowing what Marceline was doing to her body turned her on more, she reached her free hand under her shirt and began playing with her nipples. It was so invigorating, bucking her hips more and faster, chasing the high of cumming. Her whole body was melting into others' mouth, Mar didn't even realize the footsteps overhead, moaning so loud, she didn't hear the door open or the creaks in the floorboards. Marceline screamed, gripping onto her hair tight and fell forward into the pole, her thighs slammed closed on the woman's face, breathing heavily until she finally heard him.

“Well that was unexpected from you, Marceline. ” A swift sting was the only thing Marceline felt before she fell to the ground from the shocking pain of the collar.

Ren dragged Marceline up the flight of stairs by her hair, opened the door and threw her onto the floor. “What the FUCK was that bitch?!” He stepped on her hand, his yellow eyes animalistic, now grinding his foot down, twisting the bones in her hands until she shrieked, “I'm sorry I didn't mean to” sobbed from her mouth again and again. He had enough, it was time to start the real fun.

Maxxine woke up confused and scared, alone in the dark with footsteps overhead. The door opened quickly, another woman was being taken roughly downstairs by Ren. “Good morning honey!” His voice dripped in sweetness.

He pushed the woman next to him down, her body curling in pain. “We're going to have fun right Max?”

Ren glared down at Maxxine with the same animalistic yellow eyes, she nodded. “Please..” We're the only words she could conjure up while he looked down at Maxxine, reaching down and petting her hair, “That's perfect, keep that up for your audience.” She looked up in a confused haze trying to comprehend what he meant. His attention snapping back at the other when she let out a soft groan against the cement. He grabbed her by her hair, dragging her to the desk parallel to Maxxine. Picking up the rope and tying her by her arms and stomach, he handed Marceline a camera and told her to hold still and record, or else.

He pulled his mask up.

“Today we have a beautiful catch, and if my hostess didn't fuck her, we would have had more personal time, but luckily for you viewers she did. ” He chuckled the room went silent,

Marceline could only stare at the woman. Guilt, shame, embarrassment all hitting her at once, Maxxine sad eyes looking up at her. “And so my hostess is going to record as i fuck her again for all of you.”

Marceline felt awful, but she couldn't help but get excited by the way Maxxine looked, the tears in her eyes. It was agony for Mar when Ren dropped his pants. Forcing his fingers into Max's mouth, cutting her lips and mouth a little, blood dripping from the cuts and onto the floor. The muffled cries and pain sobered her instantly, her whole body was shaking so perfectly with pain and Ren was enjoying every moment of it. “Wow, so many reactions already.” He let out a small chuckle, pressing the tip of his cock all over her lips, the precum stinging the cut.

He pulled his fingers out, quickly replaced by his length being shoved deep within her mouth, being forced to take all of it his knot the first thrust and being pulled out so slowly, giving an amazing performance for the camera and Marceline. He reached down and grabbed her jawline, using it to go deeper and deeper in her throat, so many so many pretty noises escaping her mouth.

Marceline sat there completely terrified, barely even breathing. She knew better to make any noise or to shake. Her whole body was hot and screaming at her to fight and run. But she couldn't. Watching him violate the woman she had just been violating was torture. It should be her instead of that pathetic mutt, she wanted to fuck her awake and cut her. She spent 4 years in his capture, watching him bring home so many women, making her tie them and cleaning up the bodies, being used whenever he couldn't get anyone, forced to clean up after him. Why couldn't she just have this? She deserved it.

Marceline couldn't control the liquids dripping down her thighs, especially when Max was so hot, her noises filling the air sounded like ecstasy. She noticed that while she was getting used, her eyes weren't fixated on Ren like most, they were on the camera..or maybe Marceline. The heat inside her only grew hotter, noticing Max's eyes were locked on her. She was already dripping, the way he was using her, not even fighting or pulling back. Using her easily.

Just as Marceline had not even an hour ago. Ren dragged her up and down his cock faster, Maxxine's noise more desperate for air. Tears fell from Mar’s eyes, all while she tried to hold the camera still. She never wanted to participate, and it was for this reason.

Tears were running down from Maxxine's face, her eyes rolled back into her skull. Ren grabbed Max by her jaw, forcing her to look at him. He pulled out of Maxxine's throat, rubbing his tip mercilessly on her lips again before squishing her cheeks together. He left out a soft noise that wouldn't be picked up by the camera, as he came all over Max's face, hot white liquid dripping down her, especially her lips. He looked at her with this twisted lust in his eyes which jolted around like a wild animal. He knew he was just out of frame, he pulled down his mask, his face wide with a smile that clearly outlined his sharp teeth. Leaning over the pathetic mess he'd made of her, he forced her mouth open more, spitting into her mouth and pulled his mask back up. She took it gratefully, holding in her mouth for a moment before swallowing all the fluids dripping into her mouth with a smile.

His eyes shot back at the camera and Marceline, whose face was ruined with tears, “Come here bitch. Since you wanna feel so bad, you can join her.” Ren snatched the camera out of her hands, setting it up on his tripod. He turned back to Marceline, flashing the knife in his hand, instantly she started screaming and shaking her head, knowing the horrors of him and his streams. His eyes piercing through her with annoyance “All you do is fucking scream.” Walking closer to Mar, covering her mouth with his hand. Her screams were muffled with her head being pushed into the corner of the desk painfully. He held up the knife again, almost teasing her with it as more and more tears fell. He lifted her shirt and brought the knife to her stomach, dragging the tip slowly over his skin, following the scars that covered her all over.

Marceline's impulses took over her brain, her teeth sank into the flesh between his thumb and fingers. He pulled his hand back, huffling out in pain and staring at his hand. “Fuck! I'll make you pay for that, pet.”, She looked at him, a fierce glint in her eye and a sense of cockiness, which quickly disappeared when she saw the excitement in his eyes, and how hard he was again. He advanced toward her again, the blunt side of the knife pressed against her face, all emotions turned into shaking fear, her eyes shut, weeping even harder than before. Ren stared at her face, how quickly her smugness turned into submission. He dragged the knife down her face, down her neck, down her breast before swiping harshly at the ropes holding her back, letting her go instantly. Her body lunged forward in pain, his haphazard cut sliced deep into her stomach, the blood rushing out of body.

The moment of freedom was quickly interrupted by volts of electricity, ripping through every muscle in her body, completely paralyzing her. Her face hit the pavement of the basement, the coldness of it oddly comforting. She only could feel vibrations of Ren's footsteps approaching her, grabbing her waist and lifting her ass in the air for the camera to see. He looked into the camera while feeling up her ass for his audience. Knife still in hand, he grabbed her and started cutting into her thighs, the blood gushing from the wounds. Her voice was small and she couldn't even scream anymore, just letting out gasps and whines while she slowly started coming back to reality.

When Ren was done having his fun, leaving her all cut up, throwing her body down on the cement. Marceline used the only strength she had to look up at Maxxine, who smiled sweetly down at Mar for a moment. How was she smiling at a time like this? Knowing what Mar did? She was covered in semen, sweat, and spit, and she was smiling??

Coming back to reality, Ren had graciously cut the ropes off Maxxine and grabbed both Mar and Max’s hair by the fist full, slamming their faces to crash into a painful kiss. Marceline could taste the faint remnant of his vile cum, but it didn't matter since her lips got to be against hers. Their hands touched for a moment as the painful kiss turned into making out, tongues slipping into the other's mouth. Their moment of pleasure was suddenly interrupted by Ren forcing his dick in between their drooling lips, the spit and precum pooling under them. Marceline was reluctant to let Ren use her mouth but there was nothing she could do anymore. But Max was still grinning against nothing, rocking her hips so perfectly, giving it her all, she seemed weirdly eager to participate in his sick games. She even reached over to touch Marceline's legs, her whole body jolted at Max's touch, instantly giving into it and craving more. His breathing was heavier as his grip tightened, their faces smashing together for the perfect fleshlight for him. The air was thick and foggy between them, spit and tears everywhere, the only thing they could process was the throbbing fox cock fucking between their mouths.

Without warning he let go of the back of Maxxine's hair, letting her drop to the floor, catching her breath. She looked up to watch Ren grab Marceline’s hair with both hands, fully slamming her mouth down on his cock, cumming all the way down throat. All she could do was push him away, gagging and spitting out what semen she could. “Ah ah ah we don't waste do we, useless pet?” Ren grabbed Maxxine by her hair again, forcing her to kiss Marceline. Maxxine obliged quickly, shoving her tongue down Mar's throat and groping her over her shirt as Ren let more of her hair go. Maxxine started to kiss Marceline’s jawline, moving down to where the last exposed skin was under the collar. Marceline's vision was finally returned to her, she looked down at the stunning woman kissing her body, shivering and bucking her hips out of impulse. Completely blurring everything, taking her lips in a kiss again. Everything felt right for a moment, lifting up her shirt for Max, tossing it down to the floor next to her.

Maxxines hands played with her thighs inching closer to her underwear that were completely soaked. Maxxine stopped for a moment, looked at the camera and smiled, pulling Marceline's underwear off and showing them off in front of the camera before turning back to her. Max was taking in the beauty that was right in front of her, “I wonder if you'll taste as heavenly as you look.” locking eyes with each other with this tantalizing look. She left a trail of kisses as she went lower and lower until she was met with Marceline's clit.

She licked her lips before licking Mar's cunt.

She tasted like pure euphoria, shoving her tongue deep inside her and sucking. Marceline's hands ran through the others hair, all she could do was whimper and bite her lip in response. Max just wanted to chomp down and feast on her skin, she pressed Marceline's thighs as far as they could, getting every angle and inch. She made sure to lick every spot to make sure she wouldn't forget how she tasted, not stopping until she felt her legs twitch and she was screaming.

Tips were rolling in like crazy, comment after comment to do something awful to them. A fairly high paying donation gave him an awful idea. P

Marceline's mind was blank, hot white pleasure filled her body. It was nothing like her own hand or even when she fucked Max's unconscious mouth, it was better than all of it. Her legs being forced open stopped her from shutting her thighs around Max's face, fighting her hands back with all her strength and pathetically losing. Desperate whines left her lips that had never come out of her before, her hips moving faster against Max's mouth. It was obvious to everyone she was close.

She was giving extra attention to Marceline's clit, rubbing precisely where she made the most noises. Her hands ran all over Marceline's body before reaching down to where she was eating. Watching how much Mar's face just reacted to her tongue, she waited until the perfect moment to stick her middle and index fingers inside the other. A wild roar, her eyes jumping to the back of her head. The feeling of her curling her fingers inside, Marceline's whole body shaking.

Ren had gotten the camera on his, getting all the perfect shots. He had to admit how amazing Maxxine's was, it was like she was a natural at this, which was rare. He walked around them to show the viewers every side of their performance, before approaching Max from the back, pointing the camera down at them.

Feeling Marceline huff out and stopped shaking, she lifted her head back up to kiss, before being forced into Marceline's stomach by Ren's boot stepping on the back of head, grinding her face into her fresh cuts which made Marceline yelp out in pain. “Did I tell you to stop? Everyone wants to see you keep going.” Even though he was being so mean his voice still sounded so loving to Maxxine. She listened obediently, the moment Ren removed his boot from her head, she immediately went back to Marceline's cunt.

Marceline yelled out in overstimulation, her head fell back. looking up at the ceiling, wishing that it would all be over soon

Ren's hand went over her eyes, shattering all hope she had, grabbing her hair and forcing her to look down at the purple haired woman. Her eyes filled with tears, pain throbbing all through her body, especially her clit.

With everything going on, they didn't notice Ren, on his knees. Pointing the camera at Maxxine’s ass and running it all the way up her body. He set the tripod up with the safety on the camera pointing at them, he pulled his mask down, smiling down at Max.

He used his free hand to touch Max’s hole, shoving his sharp fingers in without warning, Max screamed out in anguish, lifting her head up from Marceline. He sighed in frustration as he let go of Marceline's hair, pushing her head into the wall and she lunged over in pain. His hand reached down, grabbed the back of Max's head and slammed it back down on Mar's clit. He leaned down to whisper to her “Good girls don't scream.” Maxxine nodded her head in response, making the other twitch wildly, her whining constantly.

His fingers went in and out of Max's viciously fast, blood dripping from inside her before stretching her and pulling out suddenly. He released his grip on her hair and leaned back. He spat on his hand again, using it to lube his cock before pulling the mask up, not that he needed by the way she was dripping with blood.

He grabbed her waist, Maxxine leaving her place for a moment leaving her position, her face dripped with so many different fluids. Without warning, he thrusted his way inside her, making her go back into Mar's wetness. With every moment he forced her to go deeper and deeper inside Marceline. He grabbed her bangs, forcing her to look up at Marceline. Making eye contact with each other, both their eyes dripping with tears.

Overstimulated, Marceline started to scream as Max bounced up and down on her sweet spot. The whines filled the air, Ren thrusted into her roughly. He angled the camera down at the display that he was making of his new pet. He gripped his knife harder as he sliced heart shaped gashes in her skin, her blood stained her pale skin. Marceline cried out as her fingers dug into the cement, her eyes crossing. Vision doubled as an intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure swirling inside her mind.

Ren hoisted Maxxine's hips higher, the sudden motion caused Maxxine to reach and grab Marceline’s thighs, her fingers digging deep into her exposed flesh. A new scream roared from her chest as Maxxines nails dug into the raw of her thighs and stomach. Her blood stained Max's hands and drops rolled down her arms. Ren’s hips moved unnervingly fast, almost inhuman and hitting the deepest parts inside her. The moans and whines grew louder into Marceline, the vibrations only giving her more bliss.

Maxxine's grip tightened as Ren’s final push was the deepest and filled her, his dick to be flaring up, stretching the walls of her, “Get up, bitch.” No movement. “Now.” He started staring into Marceline's eyes. She scrambled to her feet, the adrenaline and fear making her ignore the blood running down her legs. Mar looked down at his claws still grouping and roaming Maxxine’s skin, Max took this moment to look at the camera and smile “Go on. Say hi.” he cooed at her.

“hi…chat..” Maxxine waved at the camera, “Isn't she lovely. ” He breathed out of the mask, “Watch.” Ren leaned back so Maxxine was on top of him. He put his hands on her ass, dragging her up and down his length. Maxxine got the memo, she started to move watching Marceline's eyes and reactions to her every move. Maxxine reached her arms out and touched the other woman in front of her, instinctively Ren pulled the knife up and cut her arm. Maxxine winced in pain, holding the gash as blood dripped from her arm, “Don't.” he grunted, “Ask before you act, pet.” The pet name sent shivers down Max's spine, she was getting a sense of deja vu. Ren’s rhythm had slowed down, coming to a stop he pulled out roughly leaving Maxxine dripping with his cum and feeling empty and stretched. He slowly stood up gripping his knife and Maxxine’s hair again, looking at Marceline “Go on horny mutt, use her again. Do it exactly how I found you.”

Ren walked up to Marceline feeling her up,his knife teasing her skin lightly, scraping her torso. Marceline heard a metallic click and felt an agonizingly freeing pain. The shock collar that she wore for 4 years suddenly fell to the ground, the skin on her neck stung from the air, she didn't know what to do. She froze in freedom for only a moment before it was ripped away from her, feeling him gently rest his knife on her neck.

Marceline grabbed Maxxine's hair, and stuck her thumb in her mouth. They made eye contact as Marceline lowered herself back into Maxxine's mouth. She slowly started grinded slowly, embarrassment making all the blood rushing to her face. She could feel Max's tongue pressing against her clit, it made her lose her mind. Her hips picked up in speed, whining louder with every thrust. The pleasure of her mouth made Mar almost forget about the knife at her throat. Her bloody thighs stung at the liquids coating Max's face, but she couldn't help but press them harder into her, getting a mix of her blood and juices in Max's mouth.

Ren watched the screen as the comments and tips pooled in, catching Marceline's eye rolled up into her skull. His hand started to travel up her waist slowly, teasing his nails over her skin, feeling the caked on blood on her before moving his hand up her stomach. She could feel the breathing on her neck even through the mask, terrifying her to the core. Ren's hands grabbing her tit, squeezing it in rhythm with her thrust. “If you want me to play with you like you were playing with yourself before, beg for it.”

“....fuck you.” He pressed the knife into her neck, droplets of blood started to bead, the pain coursing through her body making her pull more at Maxxine's hair. “Wrong answer bitch.” The knife pressed in more, a small stream dripping down her tit that wasn't being groped.

He started to play with her nipple, he watched as her hands never stopped gripping at Maxxine's hair, or trying to touch Maxxine the way he did before. Moaning grew louder, Marceline’s clit throbbing from pleasure, sweat droplets forming and fell down her face, the pain from her cuts just turned into more ecstasy. The world grew blurry, Maxxine never stopped her pace, Marceline only gripped her hair tighter. Her thighs suddenly smashed Maxxine’s face harder, screaming out in pleasure and agony from cumming for the 4th time that night. Shaking against the rhythm of Max's tongue for a final time, sticking out her tongue and leaning forward, the sting of the blade shooting through her made her lean back slightly.

Ren saw that Marceline started to arch her back, shaking. Moving the hand he used to play with her tit to hold the back of her head. He pressed the knife harder into Mar's skin, dragging the knife deep into her leaving her neck gaping and open, red hot blood rushing out of slash. I1t ran down her entire body, the blood rushing to Max's mouth, quickly filling and running all over her face. “We'll call it even now.”

Maxxine could only watch in horror as the previously alive woman fell to the cement ground. “Thank you so much for watching,” He breathed hungrily out, comments pooling in wanting to see more. “Don't worry! An extended version will be up soon! Under a pay wall, of course.” Ren grabbed the camera, turning off the live stream but still recording as he took off his mask. The camera panning over to the deceased woman, the white of her eyes stark in comparison to her kind brown eyes. His claws began digging into her flesh with no care, ripping more and more of her torso open.

“Max be a dear and turn off the lights and hold this” he turned to look at her, his voice almost sickeningly sweet. She stood there stunned before freeing both his hands, he handed Maxxine the camera, and the lights turned off. She focused the camera on the woman who was the only thing that could be seen in the darkness.Ren hunched over the woman's body and started to rip her flesh off with his mouth. Maxxine watched in fear as he swallowed chunks of her torso, she licked the semi dried blood off her lips

Ren cracked and pulled her ribcage out, his face digging deeper into her guts until he started to pull something, he pulled out her heart.

His eyes seemed to glow with hunger and excitement, Maxxines arms dropped as she gasped, he made eye contact with her as he offered Marceline's heart, a faint smile creeped onto his lips, Maxxine looked at the offer. She stepped over to him and took a bite of the heart, his tail wagged in excitement “I knew we'd get along” he flashed a toothy grin at Maxxine, she smiled back.

“I have a better idea.” Maxxine placed the camera on the desk, turned the light back on and pointed it at Marceline's body. Maxxine walked over, got on top of her dead thighs, it felt weirdly good what she was doing and she knew it was wrong but she started grinding on her soft cold flesh, looking up at Ren before licking her lips and taking another chomp of the raw muscle. Swallowing it was tough but she did it with a smile, grinding her hips faster and faster. Ren pulled his mask back up, realizing she still wanted to perform for him. As he stepped into the frame, collar in hand, Ren snatched the back of Maxxine's hair up and slammed her face down into Marceline's exposed guts.

The loud crunch of bones rattled the basement, but felt like explosions in Max’s head. Blood splattered everywhere, but the only thing she could focus on were his hands putting a metal collar around her throat. She grabbed onto Marceline's exposed ribs, his hands trailed down her body, pulling on the waistband of her fishnets, a volt of electricity pulsed through Maxxine's entire body, “Here's the game, you're going to count how many stitches or I'll shock you again, got it? Pet.” She nodded hesitantly, the anticipation of what that actually meant terrified her, laying completely still on the corpse.

Ren reached over for the camera, turning it off, taking off his mask, and putting his pants back on. “Stay put, I'm going to get the sewing kit.” His voice sounded so sweet and excited, smiling down at the bloody woman like this was normal for him, rummaging through the cabinet until he found the first aid kit, humming softly as he walked back with the box. Setting it down on the desk, he grabbed two things from it. He turned perfectly, showing off himself threading a thick black thread through a hook needle. “You might want to have something to bite down on.” He smiled sweetly as he reached behind Maxxine and broke a chunk of Marceline's ribs off and stuffed it in her mouth. He yanked her leg closer to him, his hand softly running across her legs. His yellow eyes meticulously went over each and every scratch and cut. He found the worst cluster of deep cuts, his tail wagged as he grabbed the alcohol bottle and gushed it into her wounds.

All Maxxine could do was grind her teeth into the bone, blood, and flesh slipping down her throat. Ren pressed the needle into the edge of her flesh, a piercing pain roared through her body, a cold numbing pain that shivered in her spine. “1”. He quickly stitched over and over again each stitch bringing her skin too close to itself, the thread burning in her veins.

“23” Maxxine muffled into bone and skin, flipped over on her stomach, he was stitching the heart on her ass back together, embarrassment grew on her face, his hands roamed over her skin, looking for more places to sew. Each stitch felt like it was taking to long and the thread didn't belong, “25”

“Wrong.” He pressed the button with a disappointed sigh, sending a full body shock down her spine, “Don't get dumb now, Maxy.” Her brain felt like it was being fried, he looked down at her, “We still have to get the cut on your inner thigh you're almost done, don't give out now.”

He flipped Maxxine over, holding her leg open, looking down at her like a piece of meat, licking his lips. He let one leg go, looking at the wide gash he'd specifically been saving for last. His tongue traced around the outside of it, the taste of blood still lingering. He was still leaning over the cut as he spat on it, causing her to lip her blood coated lips in pain, small noises falling out. ‘It hurts’ was the only thing playing in her head, the fantasy quickly faded with each stitch.

—

She stood before him, her legs throbbed with unimaginable agony. “Clean up the little mess we made, just put her in the bags down there. You'll get the hang of this in no time. I'm going to be up there to make dinner for us, you better be done when I call for you.” He wiped some of the stiff blood coated hair from her eyes, before hopping up the stairs gleefully, tail swishing behind him.

“Hey Ren..” Maxxine called out before he fully walked away, he turned to look at her from the top step, a blank expression and his tail stopped for a moment. “Are there any more of those recordings? Could we possibly watch them after dinner??” His tail wagged quickly as the smile returned to his face with wide eyes. “Really?? I have a bunch, some of them aren't me, but you'll LOVE them!” His toothy grin was the last thing he flashed as he joyfully jumped up the stairs.

Maxxine started to clean the cement stained a dark red, picking up the knife that was plunged in her not even 3 hours ago to clean her blood off it. Marceline's body, a daunting task, her body was a mangled wreck splattered on the floor and walls. She began with picking up the chunks Ren ripped off, the smell of her dead body becoming more apparent.

Ren was in the kitchen, stirring something while tapping his nails to the rock music he was playing. The scent of steak filled the house, the smell even getting to Maxxine. She was almost done with scrubbing the blood off the floor, tossing the rest in bags. The tools on the ground were the only thing left, she was panicking, forgetting where they belonged. She rushed through the drawers, trying to find someplace they could go, nothing but a horrifying amount of knives and torture items. The click of the burner being turned off and footsteps softly tapping towards her, she shut everything and scrambled to the middle of the room.

“MAXXINE!” The basement door swung open, Ren stood At the top of the stairs. “I don't know where these go..” Maxxine said with her voice shaking, frowning knowing she failed the task. Fear set in as he stepped down the stairs, her eyes fixed on the floor as he got closer, her face feeling hot, he was right in front of her. “Oh, they go over here.” He still had a smile still on his face. He took the tools and showed Maxxine where he kept them, she was confused, he wasn't mad? But she failed? He noticed her confusion, stepped closer to her, “It's okay, you'll learn how things work here.”

He grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers, “You didn't clean yourself up?” Looking up and down her body, the rough patches of torn skin holding together and her ripped fishnets the only things to remain. He dragged her up the stairs, taking her into the bathroom. She looked into the mirror as he took the remaining fishnets off her slowly, making sure to save them for later, her makeup was either all smudged or non-existent. He stuck his hand in the running water making sure it was the right temperature. Her hand reached up, touching the cold piece of metal around her neck. “How am I going to do anything with this collar on?”

“I'm going to bathe you of course! The collar would definitely shock you if we don't take it off, so I have to be in here to watch you!" He spoke as he opened up different smelling bottles, looking at her face, and decided that vanilla was the scent for her. He moved away from the tub and closer to her, he dug a key out of his pocket and put his arms around her, unlocking the collar on her. It came undone and set it on the bathroom counter before gently putting her in the warm water, pouring water gently over her hair, slowly cleaning the horrors off her. His hands scrubbed in shampoo into her scalp, his claws careful and precise.

“Thank you..” She muttered out quietly, Ren looked down at her with an assumed look, “See, doesn't that feel better? I couldn't stand the smell of you before.” The water turned an orangish brown as he cleaned her. Being rinsed off for a final time, she looked down at the water and soap rolling off to reveal the stitches that burned like hell. “There you go! Good as new.” He barked out with excitement, holding her hand as he helped her step out of the tub.

He draped a towel over her skin and tied up her damp hair. He stepped away from her a moment before he slipped the collar back around her neck with a metallic click. “I'm going to go get you new clothes, dry off a bit more.” With his last command, he left. Maxxine dried herself off and looked around the bathroom, and the cabinets, nothing she could use.

Ren opened the door to the bathroom, clothes in his hands. He helped her arms into a white tank top, taking his time to feel up her chest, before grabbing the black pair of underwear. He got on his knees as she stepped into each of the leg holes, looking up at her and getting the best angle of her. He slowly pulled it up, taking in the beauty of both her and the art he put all over her body.

Finally dressed, he took her hand and kissed it, “I made dinner downstairs just for you.” Interlocking their fingers, he led her into the dining room, a room she hadn't seen before. On the table there was a single plate with steak with mushrooms, asparagus, and potatoes with gravy. He sat her at the table in front of the dish and he sat in the chair next to her, she couldn't deny it looked delicious, “Go on. Take a bite." He held out a bite on his fork for Maxxine to try, he watched her mouth and her lips wrapped around the fork, she took the food in her mouth.

Ren's eyes fixated on her mouth as she swallowed and spoke, “Thank you… it's really good.” She wasn't lying, she ate it gratefully chewing on it. He brought another full bite to her lips, she realized she wasn't getting out of this, she opened her mouth and took another bite nervously.

Bite after bite, she took the food she was given down as it filled her up more. Ren smiled with his canines visible, wished he had his camera to record her but he knew he'd have plenty of chances to watch her. Quickly the food disappeared from the plate, he was able to keep his stature but his tail was thrashing around in his chair. There were 2 bites left, she shook her head at him, turning her head away from the fork, “Please, I'm full.”

Anger furrowed in his brow, his grip increased on the fork before he grabbed onto the top of her hair, yanked Max's head back against the chair. “No. I put so much love and care in this, you can't.” her head against the chair forced her lips apart, letting out a small whimper that was interrupted by the fork being shoved into her mouth. “I made it just for you, you're going to eat every bite.” All she could do was chew, feeling nauseous, he let her go, sitting back in his seat, smiling like nothing had just happened.

“One more bite, and then we can watch recordings together and snuggle.” Max gladly nodded, still trying to chew through the food that was already in her mouth. Maxxine could barely swallow before Ren had the fork at her lips, she hesitantly opened her mouth. A shiver went through her whole body as she chewed through it, his eyes joyful watching every second of it. “Good girl, I knew you could do it. Now we can go watch TV” he took her hand as she swallowed, dragging her suddenly, leaving the plate to clean up later. He sat Max's on the couch, sitting directly next to her, feeling the heat she was radiating. He grabbed the remote, turning the TV to the other hdmi before selecting a video.

“I have this guy named Strade, his snuff films are great, you're going to love it! ”

His arm stretched over Maxxine getting cozy with her, hand roaming her thigh. The TV flashed a skull mask for a moment before showing a tied up and bound woman in the basement they were in, “Is that the basement here??” Inching closer to the TV, “Yeah it is” his arms slid down her back and around her back making her shiver, “Woah” she gasped in amazement. “I knew you were going to love it.”

Screams came from the tv as a man fucked the womans eye socket, holding her eye in his hand. Max figured she didn't have to worry about the damage from last night, but worry for the damage in the future. She leaned her head on his, looking down at him they both smiled softly before sharing a sweet loving kiss, his sharp teeth grazed her top lip. Maybe her new life won't be that awful.

Maxxine could last to make a few more videos ...right?

I would love to thank marce for beta reading and editing this story and being so hot without her help this story wouldn't be what it is, I <3 LOVE YOUUUUU

[its-toasted]

x

SONAR FLOWER CODED SIGNAL solar-powered polaroid hymnal: day burnt punk, lights first pink or fistful ginger fucking peaches, spiced like rum or fuzzy tree sap. sunwarm soda, vice on monday soft on teeth as moss and honey. surface smudging fuss me under something subtle, overflowing sober sickos something ugly. coming home finding no one calling homie good

[kingpoprocks]

Femme oc x Hawks (Eli Moskowitz)

Content warning: Party, underage drinking, kissing, cursing, Hawks (Eli Moskowitz) is a bitch boy, heartbreak/angst.

Summary: Oc is Hawks' ex and when she goes to a party with her friend, she sees hawks. Some sadness happens because he's too much of a bitch boy to realize oc would get back with him if he just embraced being Eli/wasn't 100% Hawks.

The vast years drowning by were enough to write a full journal of her exploits, However one page lay fully untouched. For The naive girl, entranced by the blue-amber eyes of the once sorrowful love, continued to desire the adoration of his royalness, knowing full well his eyes will never look her way again.

"Earth to layn!" A family voice calls out, snapping me out of my book trance.

Groaning, I close my book. "Dude, I'm reading a book."

Lily, my roommate, shrugs. "Haven't you read that book five times already?"

"Yeah, and?" I sneer, tossing the book onto my bed.

"It's a cheesy romance that ends depressingly." She says as I notice her start to change into a tight black dress. " I mean, who wants to read a book where the main love interest dies? That's just denied gratification."

I chuckle lightly." That's kinda the point. She spent her entire life searching for the one person that truly loved her, but he eventually died. It's a sense of poetic morbidity."

" Mhm…" she hums." Anyways, get changed."

"For what?"

"A party." She bobbles a little.

Tilt my head." You do realize we're 17, right?"

She nods, putting in some hoop earrings. "Duh, but my friend is hosting a party at their house in an hour and a half. It's just going to be people 16 to 18 years old."

"Do I have to go?" I whine, flopping onto my bed.

"Yep, you need to get out. Get your mind off of things! Plus, you love parties!"

I snort. "I used to love parties. But it just seems like a chore now."

She pays my shoulder softly. "One hour."

"Huh?" I glance up at her.

"One hour." She repeats. "Let's go for one hour and if you still wanna come back, I'll drive you home."

Thinking for a few minutes, I decided to go with it. "I don't know, maybe it'll be fun."

"Yay!" She cheers, throwing me an outfit to put on.

I get up and change into a black mesh bustier tucked into tight black cargo pants with 2 inch black heels. Adorning the outfit is a black and silver belt, a chain connected to that belt, my ruby ring, and silver hoop earrings.

 

Brushing my dirty blonde- brunette hair, I fluff it up with some mouse, slicking it back,nrevealing my 360° undercut fade. 

Last thing I do is wash my face and apply some light makeup. I smile at my appearance.

"Alright, I'm done!" I sing out.

Lily grabs her bag. "You're alot more energetic now."

I nod. "How could I not with how hot I am?"

Shaking off the nervousness, we walk to the house and knock on the door. In a few seconds, the door opens and a girl with dirty blonde hair pops out.

She snaps her fingers in approval as we head out. I can't drive so she drives us there. It's a big house and it sounds pretty loud.

"Hey, Lily!! You made it!" The girl says flamboyantly.

"Hey moon, I brought my friend, Layn, is that okay?" Lily asks. 

Bro what, she didn't ask to bring me before?

Moon smiles. "Oh yeah, the more the merrier!"

Lily then grabs my hand, pulling me into the party, going straight for the drinks. She makes two shots of rum chata and fireball, handing me one of them.

"Girl, you know I hate Fireball." I tell her, holding the shot glass in my hand. 

She shrugs. "Yeah, but it's a party, try the shot! Then you can get your mixes."

I hum to her, putting the glass to my lips and quickly dumping the liquid into my mouth. The liquid itself goes down quickly but the lasting taste of cinnamon burns my throat causing me to cough a little. 

"God, I hate that-" I stop my sentence as I notice the lack of Lily in my area.

Bruh she left me.

Groaning annoyed, I grab vodka and ginger ale, adding a ratio of 2:8 into the cup. Swishing it around a little, I start to drink it.

—

I'm not sure how long went by, but it's not light out anymore and there's a lot more people than before.

All I know is music is playing and I'm dancing and everything feels nice.

My blood is pumping and the only thing I'm focused on is the beat of the music, my hips swaying back and forth, right hand in the air whilst my left hand is grazing down my body from my chest. 

The exhilaration of this moment making me relish the idea that I'm single again. The release of fear, nervousness, guilt and more- like a weight off my back, flying through the air.

Closing my eyes, I envy myself in this moment, being engrossed into the bodies bouncing and swaying around, feeling as if I'm the only person in the world whilst being one in many.

I could finally breathe.

Until I open my eyes, and lock onto a pair of deep blue ones. Eyes I haven't seen in weeks. Eyes filled with so much rage yet so much guilt. Eyes that make you run away yet risk the threat of challenging them.

It was a moment in which everything seemed to vanish. The music, the people, the voices, the lights. Just him and me.

His eyes, as he watches me, are filled with regret, and yet something disconcernable swells within them- it's not negative or positive, it's something entirely different.

But for me, I just want to hear his voice. Not his hawk persona voice, his Eli voice.

Without even thinking, I take a step towards him.

Then another.

And another.

And another till I'm a foot away from him; our breaths almost matching rhythm.

My eyes glance at his lips for a split second before snapping back up to his eyes. But this time, the emotion is different- his expression is almost a one of desire.

Oh.

Our gazes volley from one eye to the other as if we were having an entire conversation in silence. A conversation distracting me from the feeling of warmth around my hand… Of skin.

I sharply inhale as I squeeze his hand, a smirk tugging at his lips. He says something to some guys around him before guiding me out of the house.

In silence and a weird desperation to know what's going to happen next, I follow him. 

As I get into his car, the second the seatbelt clicks, the loud echo of music rings in my ears. My eyes snap up to Eli as the sound of the car engine revs.

He takes notice by looking at me out the corner of his eyes.

"What?"

His voice. What happened to his voice.

"Your voice." I get out, struggling to verbalize.

"Huh?"

"Your voice." I repeat, moving my hand over his. "What happened to it?"

He just looks at me confused.

Gulping lightly, I play with his finger a little- something he used to love. "It's tense, aggressive."

He shrugs. "Well yeah, I'm Hawk."

" Eli." I hum." You're Eli."

He pulls his hand away, my heart breaking a little. " Hawk. I'm not that whiny bastard from before."

I look away from his gaze this time. "But I loved that person."

He then places his hand on mine, his aggressiveness dropping just slightly. "I don't want to be that person. He was weak, sensitive. Not Cobra Kai material."

I shake my head, grabbing his hand in mind. "There's nothing wrong with being sensitive! I liked when you were. I felt safe."

He doesn't move his hand from mine. "I was insecure, Layn. I was hit, kicked, laughed at, called names… You'd be alot safer with me now" he pauses before making his voice aggressive again. "I'm not being a pussy again."

I release his hand, slowly moving it up to his jaw. He moves closer to me, his eyes locked onto mine, something softening in his. "I miss you, Eli."

His lips touch mine, the softness of mine moving through the roughness of his. My tongue touches his for a second as he licks my lips before pulling away.

 "I'm sorry." He mumbles, his voice as soft as what it used to be; the voice I fell for.

"But I'm not Eli anymore." There it is, Hawks' voice. The intense tone filled by anger and ego, not my Eli.

Feeling the pain in my chest grow, I look away from him and exit his car. I take one last glance at him before running back into the party.

I hate him so much...

[moonillfated]

✩░▒▓▆ 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ▆▓▒░✩

"'Cause I'm losing what's left of my dignity, a small price I'll pay to see that you're happy. Forget all the disappointments you have faced, open up your worried world and let me in." 🚬

Or; Two rockstars talk about constellations, trash polka, and sparklers that smell of fake IDs & leftover cereal.

☆ Merry X-Mas @raggedy-dxctor

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There's a buzzing stuck under Corin's skin, electric and charged. Somehow, he thinks while his blood rushes with glitter missiles, it never gets old to feel this whizzing rush after a performance. Sharp, tangy citrus clings to his hair - pomelo soda whose sparkling bubbles wet his hazel locks, excitement forces you to spill a whole juice can at the final vocal pitch of Puppy Love. Somehow, even though sour acid of tonic makes his eyes burn, he blinks evenly against the flashing spotlights. Mirth, sequins- there's leopard print beneath that makes his knees buckle, his nose twitch. Dressed in primary colors and geometric spangles, 'you look like a fruitloop' says a cocky voice, slight smokers rasp. For a hot minute he's in on a different stage, between nicotine, blueberry rum rinsed leather - standing like a gunslinger or gargoyle with razor lyrics.

More neon beams onto his sweaty face as he closes his eyes, simply bathing in whatever syrupy vapor decides to float his way. All sorts of gifts are thrown at him, flowers and clothing articles - the cheers of the crowd fade into a low hum, like fireflies or the static of a boombox. And he can't help but grin, alive and lungs full of candid fog that creeps put of the machine. Tounge stained with mandarin cough drops, Corin blows a playful kiss at his audience and waves. He smells the acetone of his neatly applied nail polish on his curled fist around the microphone. Lights drop like molten gold from the ceiling of the backdrop, cheap, popsicle wrapper tattoos line his arms - rhinestone stickers, he's pretty sure specks of a glowstick are jumbled with his freckles, like the briolette, kandi bracelets wrapped around his wrists.

"Thank you everyone, for coming tonight!" Corin shouts, beaming at the loud screaming he gets in return. A flamingo platform with a number - like watching surfing videos. Transparent ballyhoos hug and wrench him to remain longer, pleading for encores or just a little chat. It warms his heart that so many individuals love his gigs, how lionized and feted he felt upon stepping up that familiar vinyl. He skips down the steps, grinning softly when his managers and team shove a bottle of fresh water into his sweaty palms. He poured his soul into every single note, made sure to swallow melodies like cinnamon whiskey. There's a hand on his shoulder, a pat from his drummer and member compliments, air clinging heavy to tunes, reluctant to let them dwindle into oblivion. He peeks behind the curtains at the swaying sea of bodies still raw, full of energy, faces blurred into flushed cheeks and mascara striped tears. Corin snickers, perks his sticky lips, and dissappears behind the seashell curved amphitheater before his supervisors can even realize he's gone.

He has never snuck out as a teenager before, but Milo described the thrill of breaking patterns, busted knuckles, and scatterbrained limericks he wrote on license plates. He rummages through his messy suitcase and pulls out the patched, shearling aviator bomber. He steps over setlists, ginger ale cans, tinsel - nearly trips and breaks his nose. It feels tipsy to tip-toe across the dressing room, still high on cologne and adrenaline, helium miasma, sonic bubbles. He just needs to manage to slip past unseen, a little shadow in denim and disco, guided by nothing but the distant flicker of an exit sign.

💥 - - - - - - - - - - - 💥 - - - - - - - - - - - 💥 - - - - - - - - - - - 💥

It's rare their schedules mix, allign. Scuffed, road-worn converse tap along the cool pavement. He curses, pulls his jacket a bit tighter, and hisses through his teeth. Thankfully, Corin didn't have any unfortunate run-ins with fans that yanked at the chainlink fences behind the vents. He did see all the posters with out of pocket messages, camera clicks from paparazzi. Slowly, the moon winks at him behind the tattered clouds, twinkles of metal halides, traffic poles - he allows himself the freedom to pick up a penny. The spot they agreed to meet up at is not far away from his concert location, down the alley and up the main subway road. Tyres reek of blistering rubber, he hears them before he notices the black Trans Am pull up beside him - bronze firebird bastard.

He stops, crosses his arms, taps his foot impatiently. The driver of the old timer brings his vehicle to a low, gravelly bellow. Once he comes to a halt, rolling down his tinted window, the ebony haired male at the wheel lulls his head to the rim. "Get in." He instructs, scratchy, husky - eyes zipping to his rear view mirror. And he does, all too comfortable and familiar. The seats are cold, worn surfaces that have him scooting further inside until he settles snugly into the passanger spot. It smells of remote Septembers, tobacco, parrafin paint, and horror movie nights. All of a sudden, he is ten and in New Jersey, there's a boy with a bruise on his jaw and he is the only person who approaches the snaggle-toothed delinquent. Now he sits with the same man, looking at his inked limbs that he remembers patching up one too many times, gauze, bandaids.

"Did anyone see ya'?" And there's playfulness to the question, eager and bone crushing. He rolls his brown eyes, going to turn up the radio as Milo hurries up the roaring car. It swerves almost lazily. "I wouldn't be here if someone did, idiot." Corin flops his head against the rest and glances at his friend waggish, pure - of course the younger male refuses to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his stare, drifting his icy orbs, illuminating diodes. There's no riposte, no jab or snarky comment. Even though he was fully expecting one back, it's surprisingly nice to bathe in silence that will never feel awkward. Jumping out of his skin, the spikes of the tallers cufflinks graze his bare knees through the rips, holes of his baggy jeans. A few creative vulgar phrases later and fidgeting with the glove box, he slams the compartment hard until it pops open. Puzzled, he observes the cluttered drawer, not bothering to catch the fallen zippo or dice keychain.

"Grab that shit for me, would ya'?" He doesn't get what first, but one tattooed finger points at a cardboard container. He reaches and takes it - Blockbuster Sparklers, he steals a bounty bar too. Comics, epipen and cellophane, altoid mints and cash. It's all so chaotic but neat at the same time, Corin scoffs at the british branded hinge-lid packs of burning cancer on top of a guitar chip pouch, Woodbine. "This?" He holds it up, dangling the white case to make sure he didn't mix it up with a cigarette receptacle. Milo nods curtly, abrubtly cutting a serrated corner to escape the bustling gridlock so they get out of the city hub faster. He shuffles a bit to regain his position and shoots an offended glare at the pale bassist. "Still can't believe you're legally allowed to drive." To prove the point, he veers his beloved vintage car more promptly down a busy boulevard.

"I will file a lawsuit, in case you forgot we're both kind of famous." Milo gives him a look, annoyed and snide. Corin huffs as he peels open his chocolate and bites a mouth full of creamy coconut. It's only ten minutes more until he parks by an abandoned warehouse, always the same, empty lot by the toyons, where the meter maids never check. It's impressive how well he knew the Los-Angeles streets, every lane, crescent. Ceasing their bickering for later, the lead vocalist and shredder both leave Milo's ride to tackle the vacant depot. Vandalized graffiti masonry, ivy shrouded walls that coil all the way up towards the flat roof. He fiddles with the keys and locks the car with a dramatic jingle, confident, arrogant even. Fishnet sleeves, biker jersey with random pins he most likely pocketed off of his devotees, Corin follows the flashy M sewed onto his lanky back - not being able to resist shoving him.

💥 - - - - - - - - - - - 💥 - - - - - - - - - - - 💥 - - - - - - - - - - - 💥

If there's one thing Corin never expected to do, it's to associate torrid smoke with home, to make his toes curl. It clings in the late night, summer breeze and roves, tangles with the scent of rotten heat. He takes a sip of his capri sun, plops a fourth haribo sour worm, and inches just a tad closer to the slates to watch all the town's flickering lustre. "Deneb is such a fuckin' diva." He hears Milo grumble, puffing out a cloud of toxins.

"Deneb?" He asks, chewing the pink and yellow gummy. His friend drones, taking a deep drag. He raises his pointer, chipped black. "That guy." Following his directions to see a cluster of stars that spiral like a bird, wings spread and twinkling. "A real show stopper." Apparently he was an astrologer too, not just a lavish strummer. Corin never payed attention to constellations much, nor did he openly research their names and shapes. This one however was exactly like Milo said, a peacock amongst the vast midnight blue. "Takes one to know one." He nudges his side light-heartedly, laughing, alive and full of holograms, singapore sling with too much pineapple. It glistens just as he gets a punch delivered to his shoulder, exactly with the clenched hand decorated in trash polka designs - some crimson, obsidian calligraphy and ravens.

"Shut the fuck up and hand me the firecrackers." He pops another candy into his mouth and hands him the dangerous toys. Milo rubs out his coffin nail onto the bricks, it sizzles and dissolves into a pile of rutilant ashes. Corin holds his one out and waits till the other lights it, gasoline and blaze, until it crackles wickedly against the thin skin of his hands like popping kerosene. He's twelve again, for the second time after his tiring show, in prep school - on the creaking laminate of their gym. A boy with a grumpy sneer, bleeding nose, another kid with granola bars and Alcott's novel clutched firmly. A few years later, those same fingers hold a bowl of leftover cheerios, fake IDs, switchblades and rosaries. But right now, even with all the hectic work their lifestyles include, it's just two people breathing something rich, voltaic.

[the-fiction-witch]

9th Haunted Drinks

Media Uncharted

Character Nathan / Nate Drake

Couple Nate X Reader

Rating Cute

Halloween Day 9

I stood bored out of my mind, shift had been so slow today mostly people out for parties and such. "Nate?" "Yep?" he asks as he finishes stocking the ice box "It's boring" "I know, don't think we're gonna do well on tips tonight" "It's fine I'm stealing the Halloween candy" I smiled stealing another sweet from the bowl on the bar "Any more fudges?" "I told you the one guy from an hour ago cleared them out" "Damn it" "Nate?" "Yeah?" "Can you make… something fun?" "Fun?" "Spooky beverage" "Like what?" "Hummmmm" I pondered I grabbed myself a glass from the back setting it on the well, I grabbed some apple cider, cranberry juice, a little grenadine and some fireball "Cocktail sparkle?" I asked holding out my hand "Colour?" "Gold" He happily threw it over, I added it all with ice into a cocktail shaker giving it a good shake and mix of course doing a little trick as always before pouring the orange glittery drink which I garnished with a thin apple slice. "The Poison Apple" I smiled "Ohhh? may I?" "Of course" I smiled he took it and had a decent sip "ooohh very nice. But the visual is the best part" "Okay fine your turn, Mr Drake" "Very well" he smirked Grabbing a large mixing glass he mixed ginger ale, pineapple juice and tequila giving it a good mix, he filled a glass with ice adding a scoop of lime sorbet from the freezer with a slice of lemon and a slice of lime down the sides before then adding his mix into the glass cascading over the sorbet causing steam "The Frankendrink" "Very good, quite a show" I smiled taking it to have a sip "Oohh heavy on tequila" "You say that about everything with tequila" "Yeah that's true I think I'm just not a big fan of tequila, nice though" "Go on, give us something a little refined" "refined? alright" I smirked I grabbed a tall glass filling it with ice, I grabbed some empress gin filling it up and topping it off with sparkling lemonade "Oh, so gin and lemonade?" He asks "Ah ah ah" I warn him "Impatient" I slowly and very carefully poured blue curacao into the glass letting it all settle at the bottom creating a beautiful gradient grabbing a rosemary sprig to garnish "The Witches lemonade" "Ohh? Very nice," he says having a sip "Okay that is fantastic. take this away before I finish it" "I win" "Not so fast I think I have something that can knock you off" He winked he grabbed the cocktail shaker adding light rum, coconut rum, blue curacao and of course ice, he gave it a good shake before grabbing a cocktail glass adding it to the bottom then filling it with pineapple juice and a little wedge of pineapple for the rim "Merky waters" "Bad name" "I know" He shrugs handing it over so I give it a sip "Ummm that is good," "Told ya" "Fine you win" I smirked giving him a soft kiss which he happily accepted pulling me close to his chest and slightly grabbing my ass "But that needs a better name" "Okay, any suggestions?" "I think…. call it hypnopotion" "Ohhh I like it" he smirked "You wanna lock the front door and have sneaky backroom sexy time?" "Again?" "Please as it's Halloween?" "As you won I'll allow it" I smiled

[cityofdreamsrp]

YOU’RE INVITED TO THE ONE LOVE PARTY!

“LET’S GET TOGETHER AND FEEL ALRIGHT.”

When: Final night, November 30th, 2022 - all night!

Where: Sandals Resort at Jamaica’s largest exclusive beach

Join us for a night of mingling and celebrating tradition and culture. The vibe that comes alive in Jamaica - enjoy a state of mind only Jamaica can deliver! Somewhere between the vibrant energy of the culture and the warm tranquility of the island is where the magic happens. The pull of the alluring island is far more than sparkling blue waters and incredible mountainous terrain. The food is tantalizing and the weather is perfect, but it’s the charm of the people who will keep you coming back for more. The famous words of Bob Marley, “every little thing is gonna be alright” is a lifestyle they embody. No matter what hardships may hide beneath the surface: find a way to smile, dance, and be merry as you go about your night. ( x )

PARTY FEATURES BELOW:

Party enjoying world class cuisine!

Jamaican food is a feast for the taste buds. Delicious seasonal fruits bursting with flavor, deep earthy spices and a melting pot of culinary traditions, it is a foodie's escape. Have a taste of what makes their cuisine internationally recognized at fine dining restaurants at the resort, as well as corner shops, jerk shacks, and fruit stands across the beach. We'll treat you to exotic foods you've never heard of but will remember for a lifetime.

Menu includes: jerk chicken, authentic flaky Jamaican patties, ackee and saltfish, steamed fish, Jamaican curry chicken, pepper pot soup, oxtail stew, curried stew, Jamaican chickpea curry, jerk grilled eggplant, fried plantains, Jamaican rice and peas, Caribbean style corn on the cob, Jamaican fried dumplings, callaloo, stamp and go, coco bread, rum cake, breadfruit, sweet potato pudding, blue mountain coffee, ginger beer, hot chocolate tea, Jamaican rum, sorrel, and more!

Bonfire story telling!

Sit around the fire pit and mingle... and entertain! Oral tradition has a long history in Jamaica, beginning with the folktales told by Jamaican people. Storytelling is one of the oldest forms of communication and is an essential part of the history of Jamaican society. The art of storytelling has served to convey vital knowledge and information through generations. Sit with groups of your fellow celebrities and take turns sharing fact or fiction. 

Dance the night away!

The Jamaicans love to express themselves through their music and to celebrate with dance. The most popular form of Jamaican music is reggae.  Reggae has a laid back sound that has become popular worldwide. Music is the heartbeat of Jamaica! Throughout the party, discover trademark Reggae, dancehall, jam to the island beat, or just let loose to your own rhythm. Looking for the dance floor? Learn and battle out different traditional dances. Looking to relax? Lay in a hammock and enjoy the soothing sounds.

And create!

The tradition of graphic arts began with indigenous Taino sculpting and pottery and has continued with the evolution of the African tradition. Jamaica has a long tradition of pottery, including items used in everyday domestic life, which are referred to as yabba. There is a West African tradition of basket and straw mat weaving, seashell art, bead making, embroidery, sewing, and wood carving. At the party, you can find tables to practice each art. Enjoy lessons right from the beach and bring home a souvenir from your last night in Montego Bay.

[charlenasaxen]

And Then There Were None Favorite Quotes

“One little soldier boy left all alone;

He went and hanged himself

And then there were None.”

“she had proceeded to Syria where she proposed to bask in a yet stronger sun”

“He’d have a gin and ginger beer. Fizzing hot day!”

“young women looked at him admiringly—his six feet of well-proportioned body and intensely blue eyes”

“Watch and pray,” he said. “Watch and pray. The day of judgment is at hand.”

“a car was coming. A car so fantastically powerful, so superlatively beautiful”

“a great roar of sound echoed from the rocks of the bay”

“a correct butler was awaiting them, and something about his gravity reassured them”

“there was no land to be seen anywhere—just a vast expanse of blue water rippling in the evening sun”

“something magical about an island—the mere word suggested fantasy”

“lost touch with the world—an island was a world of its own”

“Anthony Marston was in his bath. He luxuriated in the steaming water.”

“Emily Brent, dressed in black silk ready for dinner, was reading her Bible”

Into that silence came The Voice. Without warning, inhuman, penetrating….

“Ladies and gentlemen! Silence please!”

“Prisoners at the bar, have you anything to say in your defence?”

“somewhere outside the room there came a scream and the sound of a thud”

“Quite right, sir. It was entitled Swan Song.…”

“hoped I’d excuse informal invitation. Haven’t kept the letter, I’m afraid.”

“U. N. Owen. Or by a slight stretch of fancy, UNKNOWN!”

“And his mother—she was so kind. If even she didn’t blame me.”

“I left them to die.”

His amused eyes looked into her horrified ones.

“Beastly bad luck.”

“For them, or for you?”

“I killed her all right. Poor devil—elderly woman—simple job if I’d been sober.”

“He gasped for breath—then slid down off his chair, the glass falling from his hand”

“Dead? Dead? That young Norse God in the prime of his health and strength.”

“He was so alive. He was—oh—enjoying himself!”

“When he came down the hill in his car this evening he looked—he looked—oh I can’t explain!”

“Anthony Marston, in the height of his youth and manhood, had seemed like a being who was immortal. And now, crumpled and broken, he lay on the floor.”

“I shouldn’t have said Mr. Marston was a suicidal type of gentleman.”

“as though they clung to each other’s company for reassurance”

“Somehow, that was the most frightening thing of all….

They exchanged good-nights.”

“His fair hair, his blue eyes, his habit of looking you straight in the face with a pleasant air”

He was staring at the china figures in the centre of the table.

“That’s a rum go! I could have sworn there were ten of them.”

“But not the day that the lesson was read about David putting Uriah in the forefront of the battle”

“That charming girl—the voice had accused her of drowning a child! Idiotic!”

“He knew, suddenly, that he didn’t want to leave the island”

“Death was for—the other people….”

“Providence leaves the work of conviction and chastisement to us.”

“Notice how her husband hung over her as she was coming round. Not all husbandly solicitude!”

“There’s only eight, sir! Only eight! It doesn’t make sense, does it? Only eight.…”

“Vera did not answer. She was fighting down a rising feeling of panic.”

“My dear fellow, I’ve no medical knowledge.”

“No, no, I mean as to the general situation.”

“Oh, that’s different.”

“Why make me say it? When it’s on the tip of your own tongue. Anthony Marston was murdered, of course.”

“The Unknown Soldier! X! Mr. Owen! U. N. Owen! One Unknown Lunatic at Large!”

“Fact is, it must have been done! Now then, gentlemen, let’s make a start. Nobody’s got a revolver, by any chance?”

“Many homicidal lunatics are very quiet unassuming people. Delightful fellows.”

“If we had a boat, we’d all be halfway to the mainland by now!”

“It’s only in books people carry revolvers around as a matter of course.”

“That chap moves damned quietly. A minute or two ago we saw him in the garden.”

“What’s the sense of making yourself offensive?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Owen’s hand is plainly seen—but where the devil is Mr. Owen himself?”

Downstairs the gong pealed a solemn call to lunch.

“They knew—knew without being told….

As by common accord, they all rose to their feet.”

“Seven people looked at each other and could find no words to say”

“It is perfectly clear. Mr. Owen is one of us.…”

“If I may so express myself, a bogus little soldier boy.”

Lombard murmured to Vera Claythorne: “The summing up will now take place!”

“I don’t fancy that there’s anything insane about you, Vera. I’d stake my reputation on your sanity.”

With a slightly wry smile, Vera said: “Thank you.”

“That must go to a man’s head eventually. He gets to see himself as all powerful.”

THE MURDERER’S NAME IS BEATRICE TAYLOR….

“Did I write that? Did I? I must be going mad….”

“Anyway it doesn’t matter. You can’t kill anybody with an oilsilk curtain. Forget about it.”

“Good night, gentlemen. May we all meet safely in the morning!”

“No more china-soldier tricks tonight. I’ve seen to that….”

“Vera Claythorne was dressed. Emily Brent’s room was empty.”

“My dear girl, I’m prepared to think anything of anyone!”

It was Vera who saw it first.

“The soldiers! Look!”

There were only six china figures in the middle of the table.

“It corresponded only too well with the deep wound in the back of Rogers’ head….”

“The girl could have done it easily—she’s an athletic type.”

Shaken with wild bursts of laughter: “Do they keep bees on this island? Tell me that. Where do we go for honey? Ha! ha!”

“She’s not a hysterical type.”

Armstrong agreed.

“Oh no. Good healthy sensible girl. Just the sudden shock.”

“Hadn’t turned a hair! That girl, coming all over hysterical—well, that’s natural.”

“She’d only do that if she knew that she had nothing to fear. That’s to say if she herself is the criminal.”

“All I can say is, if you’re the criminal, you’re a damned fine actor and I take my hat off to you.”

“Miss Claythorne was wonderful—kept her head—started off swimming after Cyril at once.”

“Six people, behaving normally at breakfast….”

“Bees and honey….

She liked honey. Honey in the comb.”

“There was no one else in the house. She was all alone….

She heard footsteps—soft dragging footsteps.”

“The bee was buzzing—buzzing….

And then she felt the prick.

The bee sting on the side of her neck….”

Vera cried: “Look—a bee—a bumble bee. Remember what I said this morning!”

“The contents of the suitcase were turned out on the floor.

The hypodermic syringe was not there.”

“Then he recoiled with an oath.

The drawer of the bed table was empty.”

“Beside it was a smashed china figure—a sixth broken soldier boy”

“without result. The revolver was still missing.”

“One of us … One of us … One of us….”

Three words, endlessly repeated.”

“five enemies linked together by a mutual instinct of self-preservation”

“She looked dazed. She was like a bird that has dashed its head against glass.”

“The depressing sound of the pattering rain nearly drove them mad”

“one person left the room at a time. The other four waited till the fifth returned.”

“Only a quarter past three!… Oh, God, I shall go mad myself”

“Five candles were lit and placed about the room.

The time was a quarter to six.”

“As she opened her door, she suddenly halted and stood stock still”

“Vera screamed. She screamed and screamed—screams of the utmost terror—wild desperate cries for help.”

“What’s happened?” “Good God, what is it?”

“I got it from downstairs.”

Vera cried: “I won’t drink it….”

“Good for you, Vera. You’ve got your wits about you.”

Vera, her wits revived by the brandy, made a diversion by saying: “Where’s the judge?”

“Of course, he’d be bound to go slower than we did. He’s an old man.”

“There was no answer. A deadly silence filled the house.”

“what shocked and startled the onlookers was the fact that he sat there robed in scarlet with a judge’s wig”

her voice shook with horror: “Miss Brent’s missing grey wool….”

“Here’s one more of us who’s been proved innocent—too late!”

Vera said: “I shall never eat tongue again.”

“That’s what he said … and now he’s dead!”

“Everyone dashes up there thinking she’s being murdered. And so—in the confusion—someone—caught the old boy off his guard.”

“Miss Claythorne was screaming, the wind was howling, we were running about and calling out.”

Vera staggered to her feet. She said: “I feel awful. I must go to bed … I’m dead beat.”

“They went up the stairs.

The next move was a little like a scene in a farce.”

“Four frightened people were barricaded in until morning”

“He stood there, staring down at the revolver that was inside it….”

“Oh, good egg, Miss Claythorne! That will be a lark!”

“He hadn’t answered the one letter she had written to him….

Hugo.…”

“She didn’t like that hook on the ceiling. It drew your eyes, fascinated you … a big black hook….”

“Somebody in the house had got that revolver….

Downstairs a clock struck one.”

Vera’s voice, startled, answered him. “Who is it? What’s the matter?”

He rapped sharply on the panel.

“Armstrong—Armstrong.”

There was no answer.

“We’re hunting Armstrong. He’s out of his room. Whatever you do, don’t open your door.”

“Only open your door if both Blore and I speak to you. Got that?”

“Don’t be a damned fool, Blore! I’m not going to shoot you!”

“she, like an idiot, would remain barricaded in her room until it was too late”

Lombard’s voice said: “Vera. You all right?”

“Yes. What happened?”

“The window has been smashed—and there are only three little soldier boys on the table.”

“It might have been thrown into the sea.”

Lombard said sharply: “By whom? You? Me?”

“There’s a slight difference in size, my dear, between a man and a revolver.”

“We’re the Zoo… Last night, we were hardly human anymore. We’re the Zoo.…”

“Why, I could shoot you both this very minute if I liked.”

“And supposing he gets—us?”

Lombard said softly, patting the revolver in his pocket: “I’m going to take very good care he doesn’t.”

“Touching faith in me, haven’t you, Vera? Quite sure I wouldn’t shoot you?”

Vera said desperately: “All right. I’ll come with you.”

“It was shaped like a bear….”

But Vera clung to him. She cried: “Don’t be a fool. It’s us now! We’re next!”

“He’s twice as cunning as any one sane can be.”

Lombard put back the revolver in his pocket. He said: “Come on, then.”

“And if any one comes up toward us, I shall shoot!”

Vera said with a raucous laugh: “Cold? I should be colder if I were dead!”

“The man was wedged between two rocks, flung there by the tide”

“Slowly, very slowly, Vera Claythorne and Philip Lombard lifted their heads and looked into each other’s eyes….”

Lombard laughed. He said: “So that’s it, is it, Vera?”

His voice was a snarl—dangerous—menacing: “This is the end, you understand. We’ve come to the truth.”

“Vera leaned against him, helping him. She pulled and tugged with all her might.”

“Satisfied?”

Vera said: “Quite.”

Her tone warned him.

“Even as he clapped his hand to his pocket he knew that he would find it empty”

“Give that revolver to me.”

Vera laughed.

“Automatically Vera pressed the trigger….

Lombard’s leaping body stayed poised in mid-spring then crashed heavily.”

“There was no more fear—no more steeling of her nerves….

She was alone on the island….”

“She sat there—exquisitely happy—exquisitely at peace …

No more fear….”

“By her own quick-wittedness and adroitness she had turned the tables on her would-be destroyer”

“The sun was setting, the sky to the west was streaked with red and orange. It was beautiful and peaceful….”

“One little soldier boy left all alone.

She smiled to herself.”

“Ordinarily one wouldn’t care to sleep where there’s a dead body in practically every bedroom!”

“There were still three little china figures in the middle of the table.

Vera laughed.”

“You’re behind the times, my dears.”

She picked up two of them and tossed them out.”

“You can come with me. We’ve won, my dear! We’ve won!”

“She did not notice that she had dropped the revolver. She was only conscious of clasping a little china figure.”

“He went and hanged himself and then there were None….”

The little china figure fell from her hand.

“But afterwards you went on remembering….

She climbed up on the chair.”

“Hugo was there to see she did what she had to do.

She kicked away the chair….”

“And what does he say about it all?”

“He can’t say anything, sir, he’s dead.”

“They’d begun to feel that anything to do with Soldier Island would necessarily be incredible.”

“As a matter of fact she behaved very well, swam out to the rescue.”

“But if so, who took away the revolver from him? For that revolver was found up in the house.”

“But that chair wasn’t found kicked over. It was, like all the other chairs, neatly put back. That was done after Vera Claythorne’s death—by someone else.”

“he was not the man that you’d ever accuse of a desire for abstract justice.”

“But in that case,” he said, “who killed them?”

“It thrills me still—and for that reason I have adopted this course—writing my confession”

“deliberate murder—and all quite untouchable by the law”

“the inexorable diminishment—the sense of inevitability”

“their word is perforce believed by virtue of their profession”

He said, “I’ve known a murderess—known her, I tell you. And what’s more I was crazy about her…”

“You see, she did it more or less for me … Not that I ever dreamed …”

“What she didn’t realize was that I loved that kid….”

“No, my death should take place in a blaze of excitement. I would live before I died.”

“now to the actual mechanics of the crime”

“Those whose guilt was the lightest should, I decided, pass out first, and not suffer the prolonged mental strain”

“somehow, you know, it pleased me. I liked adhering as closely as possible to my nursery rhyme.”

“A little plaster of red mud on the forehead—the red curtain and the wool and the stage was set”

“A red herring swallowed one…” He took the red herring all right.

“I saw Vera Claythorne shoot Lombard. A daring and resourceful young woman.”

“state of nervous tension consequent on having just shot a man, be sufficient, together with the hypnotic suggestion of the surroundings”

“I shall be found, laid neatly on my bed, shot through the forehead in accordance”

“Times of death cannot be stated with any accuracy by the time our bodies are examined”

“There will come from the mainland boats and men.

And they will find ten dead bodies and an unsolved problem.”

[rickchung]

Prophecy Bar x Rosewood Hotel Georgia x Downtown.

A new luxuious cocktail bar and lounge from At Home Hospitality and beverage director Jeff Savage just opened underneath the landmark hotel in the historic basement space previously occupied by Prohibition Bar.

Salmon aburi: torched kewpie mayo, scallions, and pickled ginger.

Antipasti platter: Oyama cured meats, cheeses, mustard, pickled vegetables, and sourdough.

"Big Iron": Angel's Envy bourbon, black tea, strawberry, ginger, lemon acid, aromatic bitters, and carbonation.

"Souvenir": hay and beeswax-washed Alberta Premium Canadian whisky, Lagavulin 8 scotch, pasilla mixe, and smoke.

"El Peregrino": Paranubes Oaxacan rum, Derrumbes Durango mezcal, banana, cinnamon, allspice, and lime.

"Northern Lights": Tanqueray No. 10 gin, Labrador tea, grapefruit oils, elderflower, lemon, and B2.