#aside from booze apparently

[teem-boo]

cool news to the squidfucker nation

[jaylver]

PINKY RING — S.JY

synopsis: setting up a deal with a frat boy you've just met at a party turned out to be a stupidly cute idea. who knew his drake reference and the deal involving his pinky ring would soon score him a date with you.

pairings: frat boy!jake x afab!reader

genre: strangers to lovers, frat boy + football player jake, college au, romance, fluff

warning(s): profanities, party, alcohol

wc: 2.9k

a/n: a very late contribution to jakeday! this was much longer than planned so i hope you all enjoy it! apologies in advance if the writing sucks since i've been tired all week T-T please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

Wandering into a frat party alone was quite literally the least sane thing you've done in a while.

Your best friend, Yunjin, had called you up to meet her at a frat party at the most random hour of the night. The temptation got to you for the worst as you caved in and placed aside your studies in order to get some free booze, even if they're low budget ones.

That only explained why you were there then. Looking between your phone and the sight before you as you walked, trying to get a hold of your friend. She was probably somewhere wasted and you wouldn't be surprised if it was true. 

Once you sent her a text announcing your arrival and hoping for a text back, you slipped your phone away and wandered into the kitchen area, further from the crowded area filled with people dancing quite scandalously.

Whatever dodgy concoction they had prepared there, you took some and sniffed it before taking a sip, shrugging in half approval. You'd take what you have. Soon, you settled yourself in by leaning against the counter, pulling out your phone as it had started buzzing.

You were distracted by the chiming of your phone, realising Yunjin texted back and you immediately replied back. She was, in fact, somewhere in the house, except she was with a guy. Wait, a frat boy, Jay Park? Oh, you've heard of him. 

You didn't want to say much and just texted her back to call you when it's time to leave, or if she's even leaving at all. Meanwhile, you were unaware of the additional presence who had wandered into the kitchen as you typed out your last text.

“Oh—hey,�� 

You glanced up from your phone the moment you pressed 'send', staring back at a guy that you swore you've seen somewhere before, he was too familiar. He wasn't just a guy though, he was a hot one. Backwards cap on, dressed in a casual black hoodie and ripped jeans, dyed blond hair peeking out from his cap. 

That was a sight to see. 

“Hey,” you could tell he wasn't expecting your presence in the kitchen just the same as you were.

The corner of his lips twitched, head tilted to one side. “New around here? I think this is the first time I've seen you at our party,”

Our? Was he a part of the frat?

“I don't usually wander into frat parties,” you shrugged, and he nodded, smiling. 

“I'm Jake, by the way. Jake Sim. I'm a part of the frat, we usually have these types of parties on the weekend,” he extended his hand out for a handshake, to which you accepted, staring a little too longingly at his pretty hands and fingers. Don’t be a creep. 

“Am I missing out? I'm Y/N L/N,”

“Well, Y/N, maybe you are,” an apparent accent flowed from his voice, and the way he said your name shouldn't have made you scream inside. “You should come by more often, I'd love to see more of you here,”

“We'll see. I wasn't even meant to be here, but my friend called and I thought ‘why not’ so here I am,”

“It's fated, then. We're meant to meet,” he clapped, lips stretched into a cheery smile that had you swooning.

“I suppose it is,” you let him join your side in leaning against the counter, feeling the fabric of his hoodie brushing against your bare skin. “You know, you look very familiar to me, I think I've seen you before,”

“Yeah?” His tongue swept across his bottom lip, eyebrow quirking with interest.

“Football team. It's you, isn't it? The striker,”

“How did you know?” He seemed genuinely surprised, and you were in disbelief as well. He was much different compared to what you remembered.

“My friend's on the team too, Kim Sunoo,”

“Him!"

“Yes, him! I went to one of the matches and you scored in it, it was a great match," you could still recall the faint memory of Jake scoring, his name blasting from the speakers, back when his hair was coloured black.

“Wow,” Jake stared in amazement, his smile never wavered, only widening. “We're much connected than I thought,”

“We are,” you couldn't help smiling as well, finding his energy contagious and severely intoxicating. You had to turn around and take a sip of your drink as a way to not become flustered around him, but only to notice the rings resting on his fingers.

“Nice rings,” you complimented, and it seemed to be his turn to become flustered. Immediately bringing his hands up for you to look closer and showcasing his rings.

“Thanks,” he said, sounding pleased.

“You have a pinky ring too?” You pointed at his pinky, noticing the silver ring gleaming under the light.

“Pinky ring till I get a wedding ring,”

It didn't hit you until a beat later. He was quoting Drake. 

“Drake? Seriously?” A teasing grin travelled to your lips, nudging him slightly ever so naturally. He didn't complain, just reciprocated your smile, seemingly glad that you caught onto his reference.

“Hey, I'm a big fan. Sue me,”

“No judgement, I like Drake too,” you spoke your half truth, shrugging lightly.

Jake turned to look at you, a light sparkling in his eyes, telling you he had something in mind. “Hey, why don't I give you my pinky ring, and the next time we meet, you give it back to me?”

“What?”

“Let fate decide our next meeting. If we bump into each other again, you hand me back my ring, and I'll get your number. Deal?”

“Sounds good,” why were you doing this?

Even as your consciousness was telling you what stupid idea this was, you couldn’t help but feel confident. There was definitely a next time. You were sure of it. Even after Jake slipped his ring onto your pinky, feeling his skin graze against yours, you were confident that fate would bring you to him, or even him to you.

You bid him a small goodbye, watching his bright energy disappear through the door and be left with yourself, wanting him to come back. Did Yunjin and you somehow suddenly share the same taste in men? Frat boys?

Soon, you abandoned your drink and walked out of the kitchen into the party scene. To your relief, you spotted Yunjin waving at you, a tall boy with silver hair standing right beside her. That was probably Jay.

“Oh my God, I thought I lost you,” she engulfed you into one of her warm hugs while you didn't miss the lovesick smile she always had whenever she was around a crush.

“I would say the same for you,” you nudged her slightly, eyeing her romeo of the night.

“Oh—Jay, this is my best friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Jay,” Yunjin introduced, and Jay gave you a friendly hug as a greeting. Off the bat, you could tell he was a decent guy despite being in a frat.

“You're not joining your friends for beer pong?” Yunjin pointed out to Jay and you took notice of said beer pong going on across the room. 

There he was. Jake. Standing out amongst the bunch of guys that were most likely his friends, catching your attention in an instant. His baseball cap was no longer worn backwards, sleeves rolled up and showcasing the protruding veins decorating the expanse of his arm. He was holding onto a ping pong ball, aiming at one of the red shot cups and eventually shot it in successfully, letting out a loud laugh while throwing his arms up into a flexing pose and hitting his chest.

What a frat boy. But you think he's a cute frat boy. He was an exception.

“Should we leave soon?” Yunjin had to poke your shoulder to gain your attention back to her. At that realisation, you visibly flushed a tinge of pink, coughing and nodding rather stiffly. You could tell your best friend was suspicious of you, but didn’t press on and told you Jay was dropping you two off.

What you didn’t catch onto as you left the room was Jake’s lingering gaze on you. 

He was going to get his ring back. He was confident about it.

“You’re telling me you’re missing Jay’s friend?”

“I am doing exactly that,”

He wasn’t just Jay’s friend, he was also his frat brother. Yet, Jay was oblivious you two knew each other, or at least that’s what you think in your perspective. 

Telling Yunjin about your happenings from that party was both a good and bad decision. The good part was that she was happy for you. The bad part was realising how predictable you were. In her words, she knew you would fall for Jake especially since you had a weak spot for men with cute smiles. Dammit.

It has been a week since that night at the frat house. To be honest, you could be crazy and just go back to find Jake, but were you going to chase a man like that? No, wake up! But, you were also shamelessly missing him and mulling over the fact that the ring was still on your pinky. 

“This is so stupid, why is he waiting on fate to act?”

“I think it’s cute,”

“You’re hopeless,” Yunjin rolled her eyes, but you just laughed, because you, too, knew it was dumb. A stupid game that tortured you but you enjoyed the anticipation as well. “Anyway, Jay’s going to a football match later in the evening, apparently the team is playing. Before you say no, consider this, he’s paying for dinner after,”

“I like him,” you gave her your seal of approval, and from the looks of her giddy smile, she was satisfied. 

Yunjin was more than happy when she led you through the stands, locating where Jay was sitting. You threw a knowing glance at her, to which she noticed and only rolled her eyes. He greeted you with a friendly smile, saving an even brighter smile for your best friend. It was sickening, but in an affectionate way. 

Realising how you were third wheeling, you took the queue and left, wandering down the stands to get a closer look at the field. You figured that'd be a better idea now that you realised the team was warming up there.

“Y/N!” you were barely halfway down the stairs when you heard your name being called, a familiar face running towards you. 

“Jake!” You jogged a little, reaching the barrier that separated the stands and the field, essentially separating you and Jake as well.

“You're here! At a football game,” he breathed out in a daze, as if he couldn't believe you were standing in front of him.

“Jay brought me and Yunjin here,” you slyly pointed at the duo that sat further up the stands, meeting Jake's playful smirk. You two had the same thought in mind. “Oh right—pinky ring,”

You raised up your right hand, his ring still wrapped around your pinky. At that, Jake's eyes only lit up, flickering between your face and the ring, his smile growing wider.

“You wear it everywhere?”

A rush of heat spread across your cheeks, you found yourself shying away from his gaze. “I didn't know where I'd find you,”

“Guess you finally found me, and I found you too,”

“I'm glad,” you fidgeted the ring mindlessly, looking between it and Jake before you realised the deal. "Should I hand it back to you first?”

“No—wait—maybe after the game?” His indecisiveness was killing him, and having you standing in front of him, it made him extra jittery, he was grateful the barriers were there. “I have a feeling you wearing it will somehow pass on good luck to me,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, a smile pulling at your lips. “Don't know how that works, but I'll do whatever you say,”

“It's true! It's called intuition. I'll win the game and score a goal,” he said ever so confidently, a grin that was challenging your doubts. 

“I believe you,” you said in between giggles, unaware of Jake's smile growing wider as he watched you laugh. “Go and win this one like you always do,”

“I will! Meet me after the game! Get your number and the ring ready,” he casted a wink at you, waving a small momentary goodbye before joining his team back in warming up. 

You eventually joined the two lovebirds and waited for the game to start, a certain feeling of giddiness bubbling in your abdomen. When it was finally time, you watched intently as the referee blew the whistle and the home team began the game. The number five on his back was easy to detect, your eyes followed it the whole time as he ran past defenders and scored a goal.

You and your friends jumped out of your seats in excitement. Yelling and cheering the moment you heard his name being blasted from the speakers. He did prove you right, he scored a goal. The next thing you knew before you could even process it was him pointing up at you. It was clearly directly at you, no mistake at all. As cliche it could get, he sent you a flying kiss, and you only matched his energy, catching it and laughing like some school girl.

He was soon tackled by his teammates and whisked away to resume the game. You were left in the stands smiling like a fool, unable to hide your happiness and blushing cheeks even though people around you had witnessed it whole, including your own friends. But who cares, right?

The game ended with the home team winning and obviously, everyone was in great spirits after. You told Yunjin that you’re finding Jake first, and as she left with Jay, you swore you heard him asking ‘since when did they know each other?’ 

Heading down the stands, you spotted Jake immediately. The team was still lingering around the field, but the second Jake’s eyes landed on you, he excused himself and ran towards you. The widest smile was present on his face, he was shining brightly under the dark skies. 

“Hey!” he pulled you in a hug, reaching over the barrier for you. He was sweaty, but you didn’t mind it. It was his presence and tight hold that you focused on.

“Congrats on the win! You did great,” you said as you pulled away, reciprocating his smile. 

“Thank you. It’s nothing,”

“Okay, you scoring a goal is not ‘nothing’,”  

“But I was right, wasn’t I?��

You rolled your eyes at him, hating that he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Whatever,” you said dismissively, earning a light laugh from him. You took the chance to slip the ring off your pinky, taking his hand in yours, instantly surprising him since it was a totally unexpected move. “Your pinky ring, as promised,”

“Oh, almost forgot,” he let you slip the ring back to the original spot, feeling your touch on his skin and reeling from your close proximity. 

“As for my number … I’ll give it to you once you’re done, I don’t have anything to write on,” you waved your phone in hand, casting him an apologetic smile.

“It’s totally fine. Will you be willing to wait?”

“I’m alright with it. I thought you’re joining us for dinner?”

“Right, Jay told me,” he snapped his fingers, recalling his friend’s text message. How could he have forgotten? He almost asked you out for dinner later as a date. 

“He’s paying,”

“Sweet,” he basically hollered, punching the air stiffly and you laughed at his demeanour. He’s so weird, but in a cute way.

Jake was biting on his lips once a short silence settled between you two. You could tell he was pondering and thinking about his next words. That sweet smile returned back to his lips. “Can I take you out for dinner soon?”

How could you say no?

“I’m down. Definitely yes,”

Jake almost looked relieved, but there was also a sparkle that you saw in his eyes that shined brightly once you’ve given him your answer. You could feel your own heart swelling at the sight of him. His gaze held everything he needed to say. He stared at you with a kind of longing and pining that you couldn’t pinpoint. 

“Great, fantastic,” Jake whispered under his breath, seemingly in disbelief and his dazed look only made you giggle. “I’ll catch up with you after I shower, give me some time and wait for me!”

“I will! The three of us will wait for you so go wash up,”

“Alright, alright,” he threw his hands up in surrender, hesitant to walk away as he wished to talk to you more, but he stank and was covered with sweat, so he didn’t have much choice. 

“Wait for me!” he said, slowly inching away with the silliest grin, eyes crinkling at the edges. 

You responded by gesturing your thumbs up, watching as he turned his back on you, but not even a second later he turned his head back, a small smile still remained. He then started jogging towards the benches, and you definitely didn’t miss his excited jump. 

How were you supposed to survive that dinner date with an endearing, sweet and cute guy like him? 

The truth was, you weren’t.

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

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[artificial-transmutations]

Idea: My fantasy is to be forcibly transformed from a young, affluent, VERY clean, well-educated, well groomed, well dressed white corporate executive into a VERY dirty uneducated garbageman. I must be forced to surrender my corporate career, my car, my office, my name, my money, my expensive formal business suit and tie, my wristwatch and polished black dress shoes and even my dress socks, along the way to my new real life.

Boardroom to trash bins

You glance at the golden watch on your left wrist and decide to walk a little faster.

You are not late - yet - but the board meeting is too important to be late to. Of course, on the other hand, you can't walk so fast that you would break a sweat. The thought alone of arriving at meeting room with beads of sweat on your forehead or, God forbid, a damp spot on your dress shirt is even worse than coming a minute or two late. That, at least, you can blame on the traffic, which is not even wrong. Your expensive German car has been stuck behind a garbage truck for a good ten minutes. Inacceptable, of course. You would expect the city to schedule such annoying but probably necessary services at night, when there is no traffic that could be slowed down by it.

After all, you have a reputation to uphold! You are Jameson Pierce, son of the millionaire and successful investor James Pierce. You are also the owner and CEO of one of the most prominent investment companies, Pierce&Co.

You have the best business education money can buy and your decisions influence the fate of thousands of employees of yours. You don't arrive late to board meetings like that!

Still, there is no reason to get agitated yet. If the lift is free, you will arrive perfectly on time.

As you quickly make your way over the office parking lot that is being overshadowed by the 50 story skyscraper you own, you almost collide with an old man in a blue uniform, who is blocking the way into the building by picking up refuse from the ground. Apparently, the wind has knocked over the garbage can next to the entrance, and all the contents have scattered on the pavement. The old man is just bending down to pick up the cans and garbage bags and put them back in the bin.

"Out of the way!" you blurt. Usually, you are nicer to your employees by just curtly ignoring them, but this old man is blocking your way and moves slow as a snail.

"Of course, sir, right away!" he says with a toothless smile, and you almost gag. The old man is disgusting! He looks as if he has been sleeping on the street, and the smell of booze emanating from him makes that assumption very likely. You briefly wonder if he even works for you and decide that if so, he needs to be disciplined for his appearance.

However, you are interrupted by his next sentence.

"I just need to pick up all that garbage here. You could help, sir, that would make it quicker."

What? This filthy old drunkard dares to ask you for help? The audacity!

"Out of my way!" you repeat and push the old man aside. You are now standing directly in front of the revolving door, ready to enter your company's building. Behind you, you can hear the old man mumbling something and then start cackling, like a maniac.

You shrug it off. The man is lucky you don't have time for that right now, as you carefully navigate through the scattered items on the ground. You need to be extra careful not to ruin your thousand dollar shoes or dress pants by stepping into something sticky and foul-smelling.

Even if you weren't in a hurry, there's no way Jameson Pierce would bend down to pick up garbage. You are reasonably proud to have never touched anything that has been in a bin - that's what employees are for, not managers like you.

The board meeting continues as bad as the day had started. It is way too warm in the meeting room and you can't prevent a single drop of sweat forming on your forehead. Of course, you wipe it away with your silk handkerchief and hope nobody has noticed, but that's not the only thing going wrong. Twice in your report, you find yourself at a loss of words. Instead of using the correct technical term, you have to verbally set back half a sentence and explain what you mean in simpler words. How very, very embarrassing.

It comes as no surprise that, when the meeting is finally over, you are in a particularly bad mood. Sadly, the old man from before has left, otherwise you would have fired him on the spot as a therapeutic action.

On the way to your car, you call your secretary to cancel all further appointments today, but as you try to ring the number, you just get the message that no connection could be made.

Just great. So, your office phone system has broken down as well. Angrily, you get in your car to drive over to your office yourself.

You don't get very far. Halfway on the way to your office, there is a grinding noise from the engine and then, your car just stops. Right in the middle of the street. You almost can't believe your bad luck. Angrily, you hit the steering wheel, sounding the horn in the process, but it's no use. Trying to ignore the honking from outside and the rude gestures of drivers finding their way around you, you reach into your pocket to call the car dealership. Luckily, you're well covered for such situations.

You stare blankly at the device in your hand. This isn't your cell phone. Instead of the brand new current flagship model with the big Pineapple on the back, you are looking at the cheap plastic of a no-name device with a cracked screen that is probably ten years old.

"What the...?"

You frantically search all of your pockets, but they are all empty.

You can't help but feel as if you have gone insane. No, there has to be a rational explanation. You have probably just pocketed the wrong phone when you were at the board meeting. Of course, there are immediately nagging voices in your mind that remind you that you had tried to call your office just before getting in the car, or that surely nobody at the board meeting would have such a phone, but you decide to tune them out.

Your office is now only two blocks away. There, you have your tablet with all of your contacts. You can call the car dealership to care for the car and then just end this horrible day.

You get out of the car and ignore the shouting from the other drivers. A line of cars has formed behind your expensive Mercedes, but you ignore that as well and begin to walk. Two blocks don’t sound too bad, but it is a hot day, and you feel uncomfortable quickly. You have to loosen your tie because it feels constricting around your neck. That's not the only piece of clothing feeling wrong. Your step feels heavier, and you have to scratch yourself multiple times, trying to readjust the expensive Italian dress shirt, which is suddenly not sitting right.

Finally, you arrive at your office building. You don't even want to look down on yourself. You can feel your shirt clinging to your body and you feel disgusted by your appearance. Good thing this will all be over soon.

As you approach the elevator, you notice that you don't have your wallet at the ready - you must have forgotten it at the car. Ignoring the fact that you just now have realized the lack of its weight and the fact that you never leave your wallet in your car, you go to the reception for an elevator.

The receptionist, a perfectly styled young woman, watches as you approach and smiles.

"Hello Sir, what can I do for you today?"

"An elevator to my office." you say, adding a "Please." although you don't really feel like it.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but what exactly is your office?"

You look at the receptionist dumbfounded.

"My office." You repeat slower now.

"I don't know you sir, you need to be more specific." The young woman smiles.

That's it.

"What do you mean you don't know me?!" You shout. "I own this fucking place. It is me, Jameson Pierce! Now call me an elevator and then pack your things, you are fired!"

The receptionist looks at you as if she was dealing with a madman.

"Sir, you are not in the company register and I'm sorry, but if you don't leave the premises immediately, I'll call security."

"What are you talking about? I have an office on the 50th floor, which is where I need to go!"

"You can't have an office there, sir, that is the executive offices. Now, please leave."

"Listen, girl." you lean closer, invading her space. "Call. Me. An. Elevator. Or else."

The young woman doesn't even flinch. She presses the intercom and speaks with a steady voice: "Security, there is a madman in the lobby. Please come and remove him."

"You little...", you start, but the young woman is done talking to you. Instead, she turns away and starts to file her nails, waiting for security, which arrives some seconds later.

"Good!" You address the bulky Black man in the dark security uniform. "Could you please tell the girl that I have an office on the top floor."

"I don't think so." the man replies, "But I can show you the exit. Follow me, Sir."

"No. I am the CEO. I own the company! My father James Pierce gave it to me!"

The security guard shrugs his shoulders and takes hold of your arm.

"As far as I know, Mr. Pierce has no children. Leave the premises, Sir."

"But... you can't treat me like that! Do you know who I am?"

The Black man doesn't reply, instead, he begins dragging you towards the door. Unsurprisingly, he is much stronger than you, and your expensive shoes drag over the marble tiles.

"You can't do this!" You yell. "I will sue the company! You will all lose your jobs, just watch!"

"Whatever you say, Sir." The man pushes you outside the building. You stumble a little and then turn around, but the door is already closing.

"Fuck you!" You shout after the guard.

You take a deep breath. Whatever is going on here, it's not good. What to do.

After some consideration, you decide to grab your wallet from your car and take a cab home. There, you will deal with all of this.

As you arrive at your car again, you come just in time to see it being towed away. All running behind it and shouting does not help. You almost cry as you see the towing truck disappear around a corner, along with your car, your wallet and everything else you left in there. As you turn around to leave the scene and walk home, the next disaster is already waiting for you. There is a muddy sinkhole in the sidewalk, left over from some construction work and you don't notice it until it's too late. The next moment, you find your right leg standing in stinking mud all up to your knee. You try to free your leg, of course, and it works, sort of. With a smacking noise, the mud swallows your right shoe whole and leaves you with one dirty sock.

This day can't possibly get any worse, you think, but you are wrong.

Half an hour later, you have to admit that you got lost entirely. You are in a part of the city you have not been in before. Usually, you navigate the city with your cars GPS, but that is not available. You try to use the cheap phone to find out where you are (stoically ignoring the fact that it unlocks just fine with your fingerprint) but the only thing you find is that whoever owns the device has not paid for mobile data. You are offline. You could, of course, ask someone, but it takes some courage to ask a stranger where you are, especially in your current state.

Finally, you realize that you have to ask someone if you want to get home anytime soon. Right now, you find yourself in front of a landfill, which is both a blessing and a curse. It smells absolutely disgusting, but at least the people working here should have a good idea on how you can get home.

You enter the building with the grimy walls and look around.

"Hello?", you ask into the empty room. You are just about to leave again, when a burly man comes from the back. He is at least a head taller than you and twice as broad. His clothing is dirty, and you can see tufts of body hair coming out the top of his shirt and his armpits. Absolutely revolting.

The man looks at you for a second before shrugging his shoulder.

"Whatever." he says. "What's your name, kid?"

Needless to say, you are confused. "I am Jameson Pierce. Could you please..."

However, the big man interrupts you again. "Fancy name. I'll call you Jerry, okay? Come with me, I'll show you around."

"Wh-what do you mean?", you stutter but follow the man automatically.

"You're the new hire, aren't you? Gotta say, you're pretty scrawny, Jerry. But the job has no requirements, so if you don't mind getting your hands dirty, you're gonna fit in fine. Here are the lockers. The name's Hank, by the way."

You look around. You are in a room with a dozen dirty lockers. There is a foul stench everywhere and you have to suppress the urge to gag.

"No, I'm not new here. And I don't want to work here, or get my hands dirty!" you protest, but Hank ignores your lamenting.

"It's not gonna be easy finding an overall in your size, but we have a few small ones here as well. By the way, the overalls are shared with the other boys, hope you don't mind. Ah here. Try this one."

Hank throws you an overall. It is, in theory, blue, but both your nose as well as your eyes tell you one thing: It is entirely unwashed. For days, possibly for weeks. The clothing reeks of sweat, dirt, piss and probably even more things that you don't even want to know about.

"What's wrong with you? I am not gonna wear that."

"Well, what did you think when you came here?" Hank is clearly amused. "You can't work in these clothes of yours, even if they are dirty enough. Come on, strip, while I look for boots."

"I won't do that." you say. However, Hank is already gone. You don't think about it too much and begin to take off your expensive clothes. It is almost painful, but for some reason you... have to? It's a difficult to describe feeling. The dirty blue overall is sitting next to you on the locker room bench and is almost inviting you. You can't help it. You just have to strip. Soon, you stand in the dirty locker room clad in only your silk boxer shorts. You didn't notice that every piece of clothing you have taken off somehow changed. Your expensive dress shirt became a cheap t-shirt with stains on it. Your pants turned into a pair of ripped jeans and your golden wrist watch just... vanished.

"If I were you, I would be going commando." Hank, who had returned with a pair of work boots you can smell from over there, comments. "You're going to move around a lot. Besides, all the boys are doing it.

You look at the overall again, almost gagging now. Some other guys have worn it, rubbing their bare asses and dicks into the fabric. And Hank expects you to do the same. Suddenly, you remember the smell. Sweat, piss and other smells. You shudder. You shudder in... anticipation? As you automatically lower your boxer shorts (who turn into plain cotton briefs as you do), you can feel yourself growing hard at the thought of stepping into this dirty overall. At the same time, you are disgusted beyond measure.

Still, it's almost like your arms are on auto-pilot as you step into the overall and pull it up around your naked body, until the disgusting smell envelops you.

"Glad you like it." Hank grins and playfully grabs your very obvious erection through the dirty fabric. "You might want to meet up with some of the boys here in the locker room after shift, I hear some of them need to release some steam after a good shift. Now, come on. Pull the boots and get moving, we don't have time to waste."

You stare blankly at the big man as you realize what he just said.

"Wait." you stutter. "You think... You think I'm..."

"You're gay." Hank interrupts. "No worries. A lot of the boys are."

You can't believe what he's saying. Gay? You?

"But I am not!"

Hank doesn't even seem surprised.

"You might want to tell that to your hard cock. Anyway. Boots."

He tosses the dirty boots in front of you, and you find yourself bending down to pull them up. They are a little bit too large and feel like they are made of rubber, not leather. As soon as you have both of them on, Hank nods approvingly and then grabs you by the arm, pulling you out of the locker room and towards the garbage truck.

The next few hours pass quickly. The other men (it seems the job has exclusively male company) are friendly but don't go easy on the "newcomer". Everybody calls you Jerry and you have to do the most disgusting work you have ever done: Hauling full bins to the truck, sorting through garbage, cleaning up spilled garbage from the streets. Still, nobody is complaining and so you don't, either. After all, there are more pressing concerns: You feel dirty, your whole body is covered in a thick layer of sweat and dust. Your hands are filthy, and so is your face. And the worst part of it all is: A part of you is enjoying it, a lot. At first, the part is strictly physical. You have a boner pretty much the whole time, and whenever you need to do something especially disgusting, it visibly and violently throbs against your work pants - a fact that doesn't escape the rest of the boys.

After a while, though, more changes set in. The full bins appear to become lighter and easier to move. Of course, that isn't the case: Your muscles grow in front of your eyes, and the overall, that was a bit too big, fits better and better. Hair starts to grow on your chest, your legs and arms, and stubble forms in your face. Your carefully maintained hairstyle dissolves into an unkempt mess on your head.

But the changes don't stop there. Overall, you feel like you are getting more and more youthful. You weren't terribly old to begin with, in your mid-thirties, but a strange energy makes you feel more like end-twenties, mid-twenties and finally, like a man who just turned 21.

At the same time, however, your personality changes as well. You start to talk less and less, and when you do, the words aren't quite as sharp as before. Your education slips away with every word you say, and your vocabulary is replaced by slang, often with a bit of swearing. It becomes more and more difficult to think, too. The boys quickly pick up on this and joke around you not being the sharpest. It's not that they're wrong. You're dumb, if you're being honest. School wasn't for you, so you dropped out at some point. Bit by bit, you really become Jerry, the dumb, sweaty, smelly garbageman. And Jerry, unlike Jameson, enjoys the dirt around him. You can hardly remember being a clean and smart businessman, and that's alright with you. Even though your thoughts are slower, however, the memories of your former self are not gone entirely. Every once in a while, you remember who you used to be. But at the latest when the shift ends and you and the rest of the horny boys are going to the locker room, you decide that this is, indeed, a simpler and a better life.

There is literally a metric ton of more pictures here, in my tip jar - variations of Jerry at the end. If you like my writing, consider joining the riot page for a tip (and ocassional additional pictures)

[sloppysequinz]

Intox Bimbo Mansion - Allie’s Games

This is a second character introduction for one of the residents of Intox Bimbo Mansion. See Kari’s intro here.

As far as Allie was concerned, beer was her god.

She didn’t necessarily think of it that way, so directly and explicitly. To be fair, she hardly formed abstract thoughts anymore. But she worshipped at the altar of beer nonetheless, with a cheerful heart and cheerful mind in her worship.

Her daily dose of Pink was almost an afterthought compared to the six pack of ice cold cans that appeared next to it, every morning, just as mysteriously. Apparently whoever left the drug knew just what else she needed. Allie had liked beer just fine before coming to the mansion, but something about the beer here just had an extra oomf that she couldn’t get enough of. She wasn’t sure if it was the flavor of the beer or the effect it had on her, but she’d stopped trying to figure it out in favor of putting her remaining brain cells on the task of consuming as much of it as possible.

Every morning Allie would sit up in bed, and after tossing aside her empty Pink bottle, she would time herself finishing all six cans. Her current record was 12 minutes, but she was determined to get it under 10. When she first came to the mansion, it had taken her almost an hour. The cans started appearing on the third day, and she had cracked open each one and drunk them one after the other, but she didn’t know how to make them go down faster. Since then, other girls at the mansion had taught her how to chug, and more importantly, how to shot gun. Shotgunning six beers in a row was a skill that had taken time to develop and Allie practiced religiously.

She took a second to open her phones timer, hit the start button, grabbed her room key to puncture the first beer, and opened the top, and eagerly held it to her mouth. The beer slid down her open throat, ice cold, bitter, and bubbly. When the can was empty, she dropped it and reached for the next, not caring where it landed. She had a job to do.

She paused after the third beer to let out an enormous burp, but the pause was short. She tried to make up for it with speed on the fourth beer, but the body can only handle so much liquid at once. She forced the fifth down despite a tickle in her nose, grabbing the sixth before the fifth was even empty. Finally she drained the last can, and let out a massive victorious belching “BRAAAAAAWP” as she stopped the timer. Ten minutes and 40 seconds. She was definitely under 2 minutes per can, but still there was room for improvement.

She flopped back in bed next to her empty cans. Her belly sloshed on top of her. The booze she had forced into her body at high speed finally washed over her brain and she moaned. She reached down to edge her pussy with one hand while she rubbed her belly with the other. One edge per can. She forgot where the rule came from, but she loved it. It made her even more addicted to the booze than she already was.

When she was done, she rolled herself out of bed and waddled to the mirror to check herself out. The sloshing pot belly she had gained as a Mansion resident took up most of the mirror. It protruded from below her substantial tits and now hung low enough to cover her fupa. It was too wide and soft to be a pregnancy belly, but if she still went out in public, she knew she would’ve been congratulated on the baby many times.

“My lil *uh* beer baby…” she cooed, reaching down to hug and jostle her belly. “Mommy nees ta *urp* make ya eben bigger, doncha thing?”

Now that the warm up was over, the real game could begin.

Allie had long forgotten how it started, but she knew she and the other girls in the mansion had come up with it. The game was that if Allie saw a beer, she had to drink it. It started with her drooling whenever one of the other girls shook a can in her face, but it had escalated since then. Allie had started leaving cans out around her suite so she would see them the next day and drink them. Then other girls had started to sneak into her suite to plant more cans around. Now it seemed like every person in the mansion knew about the game, and beers appeared in Allie’s suite and in front of her face with a regularity that would be alarming if she wasn’t so beer bloated and brain dead. The one edge per can rule stuck too, no matter where she was. Usually she just edged while she drank so she didn’t lose count.

The first can she found was on her dresser. “Seben~” she singsonged to herself, popping it open as she headed unsteadily for the shower. There was another one waiting for her in the shower, so she chugged the first and opened the next. “Eigddd!” She chirped victoriously. She edged herself with the shower head, then managed to wash and dry herself without finding another. But there was one by her hairbrush to sip as she did her braids and one in her makeup drawer for good measure. Downing beer with one hand and edging her pussy with the other before each task was routine, and she loved it.

She hit the door frame on the way back into her room and paused for a second to lean against it, giggling. “Ten beer shmen beers, I’m just a lil drunk!” She said to no one. She continued on to her dresser. Of course there were cans in the drawers waiting for her. She chugged her two more beers, rubbing her wet pussy as she did so, then pulled on a pair of daisy dukes and a wife beater tank she has cropped dangerously short herself. She liked everyone to see her beer belly jiggling as she staggered around the mansion and she liked her hard nipples on display. She hadn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“Twelb beers is a *urp* lodda beers.” She mused as she swayed in place in front of the dresser, jiggling her exposed beer belly. She grinned. “My beer baby ‘z… gonna be *hic* soooooo strong.”

Allie staggered out of her room and made her way toward the kitchen, beelining for the fridge. “I neeeeedz an eben bigger *braaawp* stronger beer *hic* baby!” She told the room, pulling open the fridge.

But horror of horrors, the fridge was empty!

Allie whined and swayed in place for a moment, leaning hard on the counter and the fridge door, trying to remember what one was supposed to do if there was no beer. “Godda *urp* get…more I guesh…” she finally remembered. She turned and wobbled towards the front door. She went to pull her cowboy boots on—and there was a beer in each boot, of course.

Allie clumsily pulled her boots on, then shotgunned the two beers back to back. She slid her fingers into her shorts to finger her throbbing pussy as she did so. Fuck, she felt good.

“Doze bisshes…made *urp* me dring thirdeen beersh before *hic* leavin da house!” She mumbled. “Meeean. Dash *hic* unlucky.”

Having lost count of her 14 beers and ignoring the fact that no one except she herself had made her drink anything, Allie swung the door open and staggered out. She ran into the far wall of the hallway and let out a chain of giggles and burps. She leaned against the wall as she started to walk, following it down the hall toward the elevators. There was a “general store” on the first floor, which generally sold just booze, but they called it the general store anyway. Allie was headed that way, determined to get a 30 rack to bring back to her fridge.

Surely no beers would appear in front of her between here and there.

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day! Here’s a little Josh fic for you all. Just as an aside, this fic follows the reader after she’s just gotten out of a past relationship that ended badly. I used gender neutral pronouns and words for her ex and Josh is also written as being queer in this fic. I wanted to make this as inclusive an experience as possible for my readers so that is why I chose to use gender neutral language for her ex-partner. And obviously, Josh has never given us a specific label for himself and so I didn’t want to assume anything about him by doing so myself but I do write that he’s had past relationships with both men and women – but I am in no way claiming to know his dating life or how he identifies. I hope you all enjoy and happy Valentine’s Day to each of you <3 

Warnings: Smut (p in v sex, unprotected sex), oral (f. receiving), fingering, pleasuredom!Josh, discussions of infidelity (past relationship - not between reader and Josh), slight panic attack (nothing major), feelings of body insecurity, parties, drinking. 18 Only. Minors DNI 

Word Count: 5k

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Fuck them was all you really had left to say. In all honesty… there wasn’t much to say at this point. You’d given them 3 years of your life – 3 years spent crafting a future around a person who, in the end, hadn’t cared enough to do the same for you. You’d been with them for 3 whole years, had spent hours and hours of time with them, loved them at their best and their worst, comforted them when they needed it, been their shoulder to cry on, celebrated their achievements, and loved them with your whole heart for those entire 3 years. And how had they repaid you in the end? By climbing into bed with someone else. A quick fuck with a stranger that they met at a bar was apparently worth more than the 3 years that you had spent loving them the way that you had. It’s crazy how even after all that time you can still find out that you hardly even knew a person at all. 

And now here you are the day before Valentine's Day eating ice cream and watching The Office reruns on your couch to try and keep from actually thinking about the hurt you have in your heart. You’ve cried all the tears you have and now you’re just left with a hollowness that you can’t seem to shake. There’s a hole in your heart where all that love for them used to be and now you’re stuck in this weird limbo between heartbroken and downright furious. 

Ping!You glance down to where your phone screen has lit up with a text message. You pick it up and immediately sigh at the message that waits for you. 

Danny 9:08 PM 

Please tell me you’re still going to come to the party tomorrow night 

You hadn’t been planning on it. You’d thought since the very moment that Josh had brought up the idea of a Valentine’s Day party that it was borderline ridiculous. But you had agreed to go simply because your partn- your ex had said that they wanted to go. But now that they weren’t in the picture anymore… the thought of going to a party where everyone is going to be hanging off the arms of their partners and, as Josh had put it, love is gonna be in the air! makes you want to scream. Hell no. Fuck no, even. 

You 9:09 PM 

Don’t think so. Not really in the Valentine’s Day mood to be honest. 

It takes hardly even a minute before Danny answers you back. 

Danny 9:10 PM 

Totally fair 

Danny 9:12 PM

There’s gonna be free booze tho… And you’ve gotta stop rotting away on your couch eventually

You pause for a moment before answering. He’s right to be completely honest. You’ve spent two weeks holed up in your apartment and wallowing in self-pity after your breakup. And honestly it’s starting to get a little old. But a Valentine’s Day party? You’re not sure that that is going to be the best break from your self-imposed lock down. But on the other hand… free booze does make the whole idea just a little bit more appealing. Plus, it’d be a great excuse to get dressed up and feel sexy for a night and have it be just for you and not for anyone else. And you haven’t actually gotten to see Danny and the rest of the guys a whole lot recently thanks to their busy schedules. 

You sigh once again before texting Danny back in defeat. 

You 9:15 PM 

Fine

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Any and all excitement that you had the night before is entirely gone by the time you step through the doorway of Josh’s incredibly color-coordinated home. You’d felt sexy in your outfit as you’d stepped out of your apartment but the loud music and even louder people make you want to turn heel and run in the opposite direction. But you’re here now so you figure you might as well enjoy the free booze. You’d taken an Uber tonight solely so that you can get as drunk as you want without having to worry about driving back to your apartment.

“Y/n!” 

Danny comes bounding over to you, crushing you in a hug that steals your breath away. You squeeze him back and giggle softly. 

“You smell like beer.” You scold him, wrinkling your nose in mock disgust. 

Danny smiles and nudges your shoulder with his. 

“And you don’t and that’s just not acceptable.” 

With a comforting hand placed on your upper back, Danny leads you through the crowd of people into Josh’s kitchen where an array of bottles and stacks of red solo cups await you on the counter. And amidst it all, pouring himself another drink, is the host of this over-the-top Valentine’s Day party. He grins at you as you and Danny enter and you can’t help but to smile back. 

“I didn’t think you were gonna make it out tonight!” Josh starts, throwing back a shot before turning his body to face the two of you fully. 

You shrug and jab your thumb towards Danny who laughs lightly. 

“I’m persuasive.” Is the only bit of explanation he gives. 

“And annoying.” You mutter playfully as you walk over to the counter to survey the various choices in alcohol that lay before you. “Watcha makin?” 

Josh’s attention drops back down to the drink that he’d been in the middle of pouring when you’d walked in. 

“Tequila Sunrise.” He holds up the glass for you to see and you’re impressed with how nice the drink looks. “I’m no bartender but…”

You shake your head, eyeing the beautifully balanced red and orange colors in the glass. 

“Nonsense. You know you’re good at mixing drinks. That looks great.”

A pink blush dusts the apples of his cheeks (the color of them making the white dots of his makeup stand out even more) and even the tips of his ears turn a shade darker at your compliment. 

“I think you should try a sip before you praise me too much.” He extends his hand and holds the glass out to you. “For you. And if it sucks… Jake is the one who told me how to make it so blame him.”

You take the glass and sip the drink, closing your eyes and humming at the taste. Josh is watching you intently and you wonder briefly if he’s always been so damn attractive.

“And if it’s really good?” You question, taking another sip. 

He puffs out his chest and grins. 

“Why then it’s all me, of course.”

You can only shake your head at him but a smile spreads across your lips despite yourself. 

“It’s really good, Josh. You have my stamp of approval.”

Your eyes meet Josh’s and those brown eyes of his glint with something that you can’t quite name before it’s gone in a flash. You drop your gaze to the drink in your hand and Josh looks towards Danny. 

“Daniel, care for a drink?”

– 

You’d spent the last hour or two milling about throughout the house, saying hi to friends and occasionally bumping into Josh who always smiles warmly at you in passing as he busies himself with being a cordial host. 

And you’d had perhaps one too many drinks and the room is starting to spin by the time you collapse onto a sofa to take a breather. Danny had stuck by your side for a while before his date had arrived, at which point you’d latched yourself onto Sam until he decided to leave early with a girl he met. You’d gone searching for Jake but he’d been nowhere to be found. Likely, he’s already gone home. He’s never one to stick around at social gatherings this big for too long. 

You try not to but your heart aches slightly that you’d been abandoned by Sam and Danny. You know that ‘abandoned’ is a strong word but… they knew you were freshly single and hurting. You had hoped that they would have been more willing to spend just a little extra time with you tonight. In fact, the longer you think about it, the more your hurt feelings begin to grow. You’re not angry with them. Not all. If you’re being honest with yourself, you envy them. They both had someone to spend the night with tonight. Jake, too. 

You glance around and suddenly all you can see is other people with their partners. Holding hands, laughing, touching, kissing. Your breathing picks up. Does everyone here but you have someone? It sure freaking feels like it. Maybe it’s the alcohol making you have such a strong reaction but you’re suddenly desperate to get out of here. You need to get out of this place. You stand, the abrupt movement causing your head to spin a bit but you ignore it in favor of trying to find an escape. As you make your way through the throng of people it’s like navigating through a sea made of nothing but smiles and kisses that aren’t for you. Your eyes scan frantically until at last… there! The door to the back porch. 

You push your way to it and open the door quickly and slam it shut behind you as you escape out onto Josh’s back porch. You pause there, bowing your head and taking a moment to try and steady your breathing. Your throat burns with unshed tears but you swallow them down – you refuse to shed any more tears over the person who treated you so horribly. You refuse to give them the satisfaction. 

“Y/n?” 

The sound of your name makes you jump and your eyes snap open to find Josh leaning against the bannister, his head turned back to look at you. 

“Hi.” You answer him, willing your voice to sound more composed than you feel. “I didn’t see you out here.” 

He smiles and beckons you over to him with a lazy wave.

“Just taking a break for a moment.” His voice carries a warmth that you hadn’t realized you needed as you come to lean on the bannister beside him. “You okay?” He keeps his face purposefully neutral but you can see the concern swirling in his eyes. 

“Yeah. Just got a little overwhelming in there.”

He nods, the motion making an errant curl settle onto his forehead. Your hand itches to reach up and swipe it back into place. 

“No Alex tonight?” 

It’s an innocent question but your ex’s name sends your heart breaking all over again. You’re not even sure why you’re still so upset. Clearly they didn’t love you the way you had loved them and you want to say that you’ve moved on but… 

“No. We’re not together anymore.” 

“Oh.” Josh breathes out, his features melting into a look of pure sympathy. It makes you want to cry even more. “I’m sorry.” 

You shrug.

“It’s okay, really. They fucked a stranger in our own bed so… I’d say it’s a good thing that we broke things off.”

Josh winces at the bitterness in your tone and looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what. 

“Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m still so upset. It’s not like I love them anymore. Not really.”  The alcohol in your systems seems to have loosened your tongue as you begin speaking again despite having no intentions of wanting to talk about them at all tonight. 

“Anyone would be upset, Y/n. Alex betrayed your trust. Regardless of how you feel about them now… it’s still painful. That’s normal.”

You huff. 

“It’s stupid. Stupid and tiring and-” You stop yourself and swallow thickly. “Sorry.” 

Josh smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes all the way but it’s genuine. 

“Don’t be. Trust me, I know how you feel. Once that trust is broken… it’s like you’re afraid you’ll never get it back again. With anyone.” 

You turn to look at him but his face is pointed back out to the yard. As willing as Josh is to discuss matters like this with others, his own relationships he’s always been private about. He’s had a few relationships that you know of in the years that you’ve known him – some men, some women. You’d met only a handful of them in person but he’d never seemed to allow anyone in your little circle to actually get to know them other than Jake. You had no idea that maybe he’s gone through something similar. 

“Sometimes I just… It feels like I’m never going to find my person. And all this-” You gesture towards the door and the Valentine’s Day festivities that lay beyond it, “just didn’t really help at all. It feels like everyone has someone but me.”

A warm, steadying hand lands on your shoulder and you swear that a tingle runs up the length of your spine at the touch. Josh’s eyes glitter in the light of the night sky and the porch light casts shadows across his sharp jawline. And as you look at him, it feels like you’re seeing him, really seeing him for the first time. And he’s beautiful. 

“You’ll find your person, Y/n. I know you will. You’re too nice of a person to not.”

You can feel your cheeks grow hot. 

“Thank you, Josh. That means a lot.”

“Of course.” He grins, dropping his hand from your shoulder at last. “That’s what friends are for, right? Helping each other out when we’re down?”

For some reason, his words make you pause. You and Josh have been friends for so long and you’d only ever seen him as a friend. But now, standing next to him and thinking back to all the years of kindness and laughter that he’s given you… you’re struck suddenly with the thought that maybe you don’t just want to be friends with him. You’ve always been able to acknowledge that he’s attractive. And he makes you laugh like no one else can. Always there for you when you need a shoulder to cry on. Hell, he’s been one of the only constants in your ever-changing life. And he’s-

You shake your head at yourself. He’s just a friend. He’d just said so himself. 

“I wish more people were like you, Josh.” You find yourself saying softly. “You’re one of the good ones.”

He blushes – the apples of his cheeks flushing a dark red that reaches all the way down his neck too. Has he always blushed this much around you? First earlier when you’d complimented his drink making and now… Surely not. Right?

“You just have to be patient.” He tilts his head and grins, nudging your shoulder playfully with his. “And hey, if you can’t find someone else you can always give dating me a try.” 

You don’t mean to but you laugh, perhaps a little harder than you should have. The idea has your heart pounding in your chest and you desperately don’t want him to see how much the joke affected you. A desperate wish that bleeds into regret as you watch the light in his eyes dim ever so slightly as you laugh. 

You want to take it back. You want to tell him that maybe you’ve been blind this whole time and not seen what was right in front of you. But he only smiles tightly and straightens himself, popping his back and rolling his neck before beginning to turn away. 

“I suppose I should get back inside. I’m being a terrible host by hiding out here.” 

With that, he turns on his heel to begin walking back inside but his name explodes past your lips before you can stop it. 

“Yeah?” 

The hope in his voice makes your stomach drop. 

“I-” You don’t know. You don’t know what to say. You don’t even know if these feelings are real. Have they been here this whole time, hiding under the surface? Or did it take you getting heartbroken by someone else to see the kindness that he’s been offering for years? There’s so many questions swirling through your head and you can’t seem to even form a full thought. Defeatedly, you shake your head. “Never mind. I’ll see you later.”

Josh stares at you for a long, tense moment before nodding his head. 

“I’ll see you later, Y/n.” 

You turn away before you see him leave but the sound of the back door shutting makes you wince. Should you have told him how you feel? Hell, you don’t understand how you’re feeling so you don’t even know what you would have told him anyway. 

Regardless, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve just made a mistake. You’ve spent years desperately wishing for true love. Dates with people had come and gone and Alex had just been the first person who seemed to want the same from a relationship as you. No one had expected you to date them. No one had expected the two of you to last as long as you did. And honestly? You hadn’t expected it either. Alex was… comfortable. Safe. 

You’d been so caught up, so desperate to find love… and maybe it’s been right in front of you all along. He has been right in front of you. And you just let him walk away. 

Frantically, you whirl around to go and find him but stop short at the sight of Josh shoving the door open and coming back outside. He looks frenzied but determined as he strides over to you. You’re frozen in place, but with each step that he takes you grow more and more certain about the warmth spreading through your chest. Yes, he really had been right here all along. 

Josh stops. He’s so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath. 

“Y/n.” His voice is soft – quiet but just as determined as his steps had been. “I couldn’t- I had to come back. I couldn’t not tell you.” He rambles, his dark eyes pinning you in place before him. “I know we’re just friends and- and I know that you don’t-” 

“Josh,” you interrupt, “I love you too.”

“What?” 

He’s utterly still, jaw dropped open and eyes gaping at you. If your heart wasn’t pounding so hard you think you might laugh at the sight of Josh Kiszka rendered speechless. 

“I said I love you too. I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before… but I do, Josh.” 

His mouth remains open for a long moment and you think for one brief, horrible second that you’ve made a mistake and he doesn’t feel the same. But then his lips spread into a wide smile that makes your heart melt. 

“You- you love me?” 

You nod. 

“And I’m sorry that I didn’t realize it sooner.” 

He huffs, the noise a mix between a sigh and a laugh before he takes a step even closer, his lips hovering just above yours. He pauses there, waiting. You give him a slight nod and then his lips are on yours – soft and pillowy and oh so warm against your own. With a soft whine, your hands find perchance on his shoulders while his palms settle on your cheeks, thumbs caressing your cheek bones. The heat of him is delicious and you use your grip on his shoulders to pull him in closer to you. He answers with a breathy moan into your mouth that sends liquid fire pooling between your legs.  

“Y/n.” Your name escapes him with a sigh, his lips parting from yours for a moment to breathe. “I’ve dreamed of this.” 

“Yeah?” You whisper, lips ghosting over his once again, just barely touching. “Just of kissing me?”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and shakes his head, curls bouncing. 

“Much more than that.” 

“Show me?” 

Josh answers you with a Cheshire grin and turns his head to look over his shoulder at the party still going on inside. 

“Think they’ll notice that I’m gone?”

“We can be quick.” 

He shakes his head and grins but laces his fingers with yours and begins to tug you towards the door. 

“No. We won’t.” 

“You can’t just leave.” You start to protest but Josh silences you with a grin. 

“They’ll take the hint and leave eventually. We’ll worry about cleaning up tomorrow.”

– 

You barely notice the people as Josh leads you through them and none of them seem to notice the two of you as you both slip up the stairs. It feels like a dream as he tugs you through the threshold of his bedroom, shutting the door behind you with a soft ‘click.’ 

“So many dreams and so little time.” He murmurs, hands finding your hips and guiding you backwards until the backs of your thighs hit the bed. 

Josh kisses you again before pulling back and letting the moment hold for a moment. You take in your surroundings. The soft, white bed sheets. The warm glow of the lamp in the corner and the smell of incense. The room screams Josh – cluttered but organized, comfy.  

“But enough time,” Josh continues, palms sweeping down your sides, “that we can do as much or as little as you want tonight.” 

Josh is selfless in everything else that he does and you can’t help but smile knowing that he's selfless in here too. 

“I want you.” Is all your brain can manage to come up with. 

But it does the trick given the way Josh’s eyes glitter with mischief as his fingers dance across your shoulders and hook underneath the straps of your dress. 

“Can I take this off?”

You nod and he slides the fabric down, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving your bra and panties on display for him. You’d gone with black lace and based on the groan that rumbles in his chest, it was the right choice. Before undressing you further, Josh tugs his own shirt up and over his head and tosses it haphazardly to the floor. His khakis are next and you exhale shakily as you take in his smooth, creamy skin. His body is lithe and toned, muscles defined but still slim. There’s something effortlessly graceful about his body and you reach out a hand to feel him, a palm settling on his pec and the other hand grabbing his waist and squeezing. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” His words come out husky and a little gruff and your core pulses. “Bra off then on the bed.” 

You comply, unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor before jumping up and scrambling backwards until your back hits the wall of plush pillows guarding the head board. He follows you, climbing onto the bed and settling onto his knees between your thighs. Chocolate eyes sweep up to yours, somehow filled with an almost innocence despite what the two of you are about to do. 

“Can I taste you, Y/n?” He pleas– and it is a plea. 

You want to nod. To let him use that pretty mouth on you for as long as he pleases. But years of insecurity – insecurity that’s only been made worse after recent events, bubbles to the surface. 

“I- I didn’t shave. You don’t have to.” You hate how weak your voice sounds. You hate that you feel like this. You hate how every single cell in your body wants to close your thighs and hide from him despite the love that you see swirling through his eyes. 

“I want to.” Josh answers, warm hands finding purchase on your thighs. “And I don’t care about whether or not you shaved, Y/n. It’s your body that you’re choosing to share with me.” His thumbs trace small, soothing circles into your skin. “But if you don’t feel comfortable that’s okay too.” 

You take a deep breath. You let all those insecurities that have welled up recently come to the forefront of your mind. You let yourself feel each one. And then you let them go. 

“Y-you can. You can taste me.”

Josh smiles softly, the weight of your trust not lost on him as he leans down and slides your panties down your legs. Already soaked, Josh hums at the sight. 

“Stunning.” He says, swiping a finger through your folds and earning a cry from between your lips. 

Hooking his arms beneath your thighs and dropping his body to lay against the mattress, Josh pulls your glistening center flush against him and sucks your clit into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around the swollen bud and your hips buck up to meet the feeling. 

“Oh fuck.” You whine, eyes shut tightly against the onslaught of pleasure. 

His tongue works over you effortlessly, switching between circling around your clit and slipping into your entrance. The sound is obscene. Your wetness coupled with the way Josh moans into your heat has the band of pleasure in your lower belly beginning to tighten already. It’s like he somehow knows exactly what you like the most – effortlessly coaxing you to the edge. He’s groaning into you, head thrashing from side to side and his own hips pushing down into the bed.

“Josh.” You warn, your body beginning to tense as the white hot pleasure keeps building. 

“Cum in my mouth, mama. I need it.” 

With one last lick of his tongue against you the wave breaks. With a loud cry, you let the pleasure overtake you and Josh keeps working you through it, making sure to give you the most pleasure he can as your orgasm works its way through you. 

Finally, he sits up and wipes his mouth against the back of his hand. 

“How was that?” 

It’s an innocent question but the cocky grin he’s sporting lets you know that he knows exactly how good it was. 

“Fuck.” Is all you manage to say and Josh giggles. 

“Eloquent.” 

Josh sits up and you can see his cock straining through the fabric of his boxers, his flushed tip trapped underneath the waistband. Even covered you can see that he’s big. You’d always known that he was – his jumpsuits leave little to the imagination. But seeing it like this, hard and leaking for you, makes your breath stutter in your chest. You reach out to feel him but he stops you, shaking his head and grinning. 

“Not done yet.” Is all he says before his fingers find your wet folds again. 

Slowly, he presses a finger in and you whine, legs falling apart wider as he curls the digit. He’s watching you intently, noting every shift of your hips and every change in expression as he explores your body, finding what makes you tick. His finger brushes against your sweet spot and you cry out his name. 

“Oh fuck, Josh. Right there.” 

He grins. 

“There it is.” 

He adds another finger, scissoring them to stretch you but making sure to brush that spot over and over again as he does so. You’re a whining mess beneath him, embarrassingly close to cumming again already. No one has ever paid attention like this – actually taking the time to learn your body and its responses in order to maximize your pleasure. Maybe it's that thought that has you about to reach climax again. 

“You gonna cum on my fingers, Y/n?”

You nod your head, unable to form words as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“Yeah? I can feel you squeezing them, baby. You can cum, angel. Just let it go.”

Your body trembles and shakes all over as you cum and Josh moans in delight at the sight of you surrendering to pleasure, at the sight of the pleasure that he is giving you. This one lasts longer than the last and Josh works you through every second of it until you're panting and shying away from the touch as the oversensitivity hits you. 

“Good?” He murmurs, eyes practically black as they stare at you. 

“Very, very good.” You answer with a lazy, satiated smile. “Are you going to fuck me now?” 

Josh’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip and your eyes track the movement. You want him. You want him so bad it aches. 

“Only if you want me to. We don’t have to do anything else tonight.”

Of course he didn’t expect more from you. And you’re 100% certain that if you asked him to, he’d lay down and go to bed with you right now despite how hard his aching member must be. But you don’t want that. You want him. All of him. 

“I want you to, Josh. I need you to fuck me.”

A soft, delicate little whine escapes him. 

“Okay.” 

Wordlessly, he reaches over to his night stand and opens a drawer. His hand disappears inside it before reappearing with a condom in hand. He palms himself once with his right hand through his boxers before hooking his fingers in the waistband and tugging them down. 

You never knew that a cock could be so fucking pretty. 

He rips the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex over his length, hissing as he does so. 

You let your legs fall apart and beckon him to you. With dark eyes, Josh pumps his length in his hand once, twice, before he guides himself into your soaked entrance. He’s big, the stretch causing a delicious mix of pleasure bordering on pain. He moans as he bottoms out and your hands latch onto his shoulders and your fingertips dig into the muscle. 

“Fuck, you feel good.” You moan, already aching for him to move. 

“And you feel like satin, angel. So fuckin’ tight.”

Slowly, Josh pulls almost all the way out of you before sliding back in again. His arms come to rest on either side of your head, his weight resting on his forearms. With each snap of his hips you can’t help but moan. Every movement, every inch of him, sends sparks of pleasure through your entire body.  Sex with Alex had been rough – frenzied and almost mindless. But this? This is worship. 

“Don’t stop.” You beg, heels digging into his hips to keep him close. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His voice sounds wrecked – cracked and broken with his own pleasure. 

“You’re so good.” You find yourself mumbling, eyes squeezing shut. “So fucking good, Josh.”

You can feel his length twitch and pulse inside of you as soon as the words leave your mouth. He likes knowing that he’s making you feel good. 

“Wanna make you cum, mama. Wanna make you feel good.” He whines, jaw dropping open and face contorting in pleasured agony. 

You nod your head frantically, tits bouncing as he picks up his pace. 

“Feels so good. Oh fuck!” Your own voice sounds foreign to you – high pitched and almost squeaky. You’re losing yourself in the pleasure, his cock hitting your sweet spot perfectly. 

“Please cum, baby. Cum on my cock. I need to feel it.”

His right hand slips into the heated space between your bodies and his finger finds your clit, ruthlessly swirling the pad of his finger in time with his thrusts. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum, Josh. Please, please, please.”

“You don’t have to beg, baby.” He grits out, his pace beginning to falter as your walls clench mercilessly around him. “Gonna take care of you. Gonna get you there.”

It hardly takes a minute more before the band snaps. With a harsh scream, your orgasm rips through you. Stars explode behind your eyes and any thoughts that you had have been ripped from you. All you can focus on is the pleasure as Josh keeps fucking you through your high. The only words you can think of fall from your lips in a breathy whine. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Josh cries out harshly, his own body tensing as he finally lets himself reach his own climax. 

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming. Y/n.” His words are almost a growl, rumbling from deep within his chest as his orgasm hits him fully. “I love you too. Fuck, I love you so much.”

With one last thrust of his hips the two of you finally settle, Josh’s weight coming down to pin you to the mattress as you both come back to yourselves. He doesn’t pull out, allowing the intimacy of the moment to stretch on. 

“My God.” You mumble, your throat feeling raw from screaming. 

Josh leans down to capture your lips with his, his tongue exploring your mouth lazily for a moment before he draws back. 

“I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry I took so long.” 

“I would have waited even longer so long as I got to have you in the end.”

You pull him down to kiss him again. 

“You have me.”

♡︵‿♡︵‿♡‿︵♡‿︵♡

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[acaciusbride]

dbf!joel catching you staring at his biceps….

Here you go, Anon! 💞

There are about a dozen reasons why you shouldn’t be interested in him. Firstly, and probably most importantly, he’s your dad’s best friend, which leads to secondly, he’s about twenty odd years older than you, maybe. Next, he’s a smuggler. A criminal. Which, you know you can’t judge, given that your dad is, too, but still… Joel is Bad News, capital B, capital N. Everyone in the QZ knows not to fuck with him. Even FEDRA officers; hell, they’re more likely to buy whatever he brings into the zone than bust him for it.

There’s a certain element of danger to him that draws you in, and hell, the fact that he’s your dad’s buddy? Doesn’t really bother you like it should. It’s not like you’re ever going to act on your interest, after all.

That’s not going to stop you from staring, though. It’s the middle of the afternoon, your dad’s out on a job - repairing one of the security systems, he won’t be home til late - and you’ve helped yourself to a glass or two of the illicitly made bourbon kept in the pantry. More importantly, Joel’s come past to drop something or other off, and he’s helped himself to your booze stash too, because, in his words, no girl your age should be drinking this shit. What does he know? You’re in your mid twenties, old enough to drink. More than old enough.

Anyway, the point is he’s sitting on your couch, drinking your shitty booze, the sunlight pouring through the grimy window, lighting up all the silver streaks in his dark hair, falling onto his bare forearms. Does he know how goddamn illicit he looks in a t-shirt? Surely he does.

You’re just minding your own business, sipping your liquor, admiring the view, wondering how many other women in the Zone have the same opinion, when he breaks the silence.

“What’re you lookin’ at, sweetheart?”

Oh, shit. He’s caught you. There’s absolutely no way you can plausibly deny it, either. Doesn’t mean you’re not going to try.

“Uh…”

“What? Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to stare?” He doesn’t sound pissed, more amused than anything as he looks at you over the rim of his half-full glass.

You shrug, deciding that saying nothing is better than putting your foot in it.

Apparently, that’s the wrong decision.

“Still haven’t answered me.” He was very, very clearly waiting for you to, as well.

Okay. No way out of it after all. You drained the rest of your glass, took a little comfort in the warmth it spread through your body. They called liquor liquid courage for a reason.

“You, I guess, but you already knew that.”

He smirked, lopsided. It didn’t comfort you; this was a man who had been through hell and walked out the other side. He was dangerous, he killed people! What on earth had made you think this was a good idea???

You were just about to open your mouth to apologise when he held up a hand, then motioned for you to come sit. Not next to him, oh no. He motioned right to his lap. Your mouth went dry. Not that the idea wasn’t appealing, it most certainly was. You were just once again, startlingly aware of how dangerous this man was. It didn’t stop you, though. He set the glass aside and watched you, expectant.

You got up from your armchair, crossed the small, shabby living room to sit yourself down in his lap, straddling him. Maybe not what he had expected, but you weren’t going to half ass this, especially when you weren’t sure if he was going to change his mind. You honestly weren’t sure if you were going to change your own mind; you probably should have, but the second you sat down, his hands went to your waist, holding you in place.

“This what you were thinking about?” He asks, eyes half narrowed as he looks at you; trying to get a better read on you. He’s suspected your interest for a while now, but he’s tried to be respectful. Tried. It’s not been fucking easy, that’s for damn sure. But, well, when opportunity arises…

It’s not only opportunity that’s risen, not with the way you’re straddling him.

“Sort of,” you admit. The liquor has given you a surge of courage, and for that, you’re grateful. You’re not sure you would ever have had the courage to do this without it.

“Oh? Something else?”

You huff. You’d only been staring at his arms, those muscled biceps, trying to imagine how solid he would feel around you. You didn’t have to imagine now; with his hands on your waist you were comfortably enveloped by his arms.

“C’mon, pretty girl. I’m sure you can use your words. God knows I’ve heard you sass off enough times before.” Joel is absolutely amused by this; he knows you’ll fall for the bait, because that’s precisely what he’s doing. Baiting you, playing with his food before he eats it. It’s not necessarily the nicest thing to do, but he’s not necessarily a nice man.

“What, you wanna hear all the questionable thoughts I’ve ever had?” You ask, rising to the bait.

“So they’re questionable, huh?” Another smirk as you realise what you’ve said.

“I mean, uh- no? Not all of them?”

Only most of them. Only when you’re alone, or when he’s distracting you by simply existing.

“Not all? But most? Huh, nice to know pretty things like you think of me in such a way.”

“Like you don’t know what women think of you.” You snort, refusing to believe that for a second.

He shrugs. “Not my main priority.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“No, but when an opportunity presents itself… well… I’d be stupid not to take it, wouldn’t I?”

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t see you taking anything.”

He stares at you for a moment, as though assessing you, trying to decide something.

“Brat.” He says finally, before he fists his hand in your hair and yanks you into a rough kiss.

You don’t bother to deny it, not sure you even want to. You’re more focused on the kiss, the way he devours your mouth like a starving man. This? This is exactly what you wanted, though you’d never have been brave enough to ask. But he’s not asking, he’s taking, leading the way in this, and you’re absolutely fine with that.

He’s eager and demanding, and when he pulls away you’re a little dazed.

“Is that what I’ll get every time I stare at you?” You dare to ask, cheeky.

He gives you a half exasperated look, rolls his eyes, before he leans in to kiss you again, effectively shutting you up this time.

[ageingfangirl2]

A Reason To Come Back! Shanks (OPLA) Part 2

Reader is a mermaid who washed up close to death in Luffy's village and made a home for themselves. Shanks comes back and tries to convince y/n to join his crew. Shanks x Female Reader.

Part 1

Y/N

'Then join my crew!' Shanks said in a carefree manner.

That was four months ago, you didn't quite believe Shanks would go through with his promise, so you said yes.

After that first meeting, you went back to the tavern with Shanks to meet the rest of his crew, after stopping at your house to get some dry clothes. Shanks had so many questions about mermaids just like Luffy did and you tried to answer all of them. Maybe Luffy was right about him being a good guy, he gave off the vibe of someone you could trust but wouldn't want to cross.

You were nervous meeting the rest of his crew since pirates were primarily male, but they quickly put you at ease and were amazed at just how much booze you could put away, turns out that was a pro of being a mermaid. One of the newer crew tried to hit on you and it was then you revealed apparently what Shanks suspected when he heard you laugh, and that was your ability to compel. Let's just say the rest of the crew would never let the guy live down the humiliation you put him through.

Before he went to bed Shanks told Luffy of the promise he'd made to you. At first, the boy was upset that you wouldn't be joining his crew but was happy you'd both be pirates one day.

It did feel nice to let loose, laugh and have fun around others. And Shanks kept his eye on you the whole night. Maybe returning to the sea one day might just happen for you. You sketched a rough drawing of the jolly roger you'd seen during your escape, and it turned out Shanks and his crew didn't like that crew already so were all on board to help you.

During those four months, you kept yourself busy, fishing, helping around the village and keeping an eye on Luffy. You also had started putting things aside in case Shanks kept his promise and you had to join his crew which didn't seem that bad.

Today you'd just finished swimming and were returning to your house when you saw a familiar red-haired pirate sitting on your porch.

'SHANKS!' you call out.

SHANKS

I should have known y/n wouldn't be at home. They weren't in town when we arrived so I assumed they were swimming in the cove. Other than Luffy and myself no one else had been to the cove to see her mermaid form, it was her private space.

'SHANKS!' y/n calls out.

I look up to see the red-haired girl walking up the path towards me smiling and dripping wet. It was very unusual to see someone with the same hair colour as myself but y/n explained mermaids either got the colour from their mother or father or could get a mixture of both but y/n got her mother's red hair and tail.

I stand up and embrace y/n, who hugs me back. She was a lot smaller than me, but that didn't mean you should underestimate her, 'I told you I'd come back. You get younger each time I see you.'

y/n blushes at the compliment and playfully shoves me back, 'How old do you think I am Shanks?'

My face drops, this was a trap women liked to set to trip men up, 'err I don't know maybe early twenties.'

y/n grins, 'Such a charmer, we're the same age Shanks, mermaids just age slower and appear more youthful.'

I was shocked by her answer but also relieved. I said the early twenties to not sound awful when y/n could easily pass for eighteen or nineteen. At least we wouldn't have a kid on the crew with us.

'I didn't come to ask your age y/n, I came because I have something for you.'

y/n tilts their head and their eyes widen, 'what do you have for me? How's the arm by the way? Still getting used to only having one?'

Before leaving last time I'd lost my arm rescuing Luffy. I had no regrets and would do it again. It was tough but I was slowly adapting.

'Some days are harder than others but it will take time,' I reply honestly.

I reach behind me and under my cloak pull a wrapped-up piece of black fabric before handing it to y/n. y/n slowly unwraps the fabric and gasps loudly.

'You did it Shanks...this is the jolly roger I saw...thank you...' y/n stumbles over their words, tears pricking their eyes, 'what happened?'

It warmed my heart to see her get happy and emotional staring at the flag belonging to the ship that killed her family, 'they had a lot of enemies, and my crew simply pinned them against each other until they were no more. You're free to return to the sea y/n.'

y/n puts the flag down and throws themselves at me, causing me to grunt at the sudden impact but y/n wasn't that heavy so I was able to catch her as she hugged and clung onto me, 'you kept your end up so I'll keep mine, looks like I'm joining your crew Shanks.'

I laugh and put y/n down, 'Welcome to The Red Hair Pirates. I think you'll fit in nicely.'

It turned out that y/n was already packed, ready for the day to arrive. The rest of the crew and Luffy were waiting at the tavern, so we headed down there with y/n's belongings.

'I'M GOING TO MISS YOU SO MUCH Y/N!' Luffy shouts in y/n's face as soon as we enter the tavern, but y/n simply smiles and ruffles his hair not fazed by the loudness.

'I'm going to miss you more,' y/n replies and squeezes his cheek.

I clear my throat behind them and they both look up at me, 'What about me Luffy, won't you miss me?'

Luffy grins like an idiot, 'Of course, I'll miss you Shanks, you made me want to become a pirate but how many mermaids am I going to meet in my life?'

y/n sniggers, 'and since I'm now a pirate mermaid I guess you're number two in his eyes Shanks or should I say, captain.'

I roll my eyes but embrace the situation. Things were going to be a lot more interesting with y/n on the crew.

[reallyintoscience]

Novel Solutions to Ordinary Problems 1/?

He's a top guy, Gadling. Always keeps the good stuff aside for him, never refuses a friend in need. And man, is Matthew in need today. He loves the boss, he really does. Honestly. Loves him. Like he'd never thought you could possibly love someone who was your boss. But he is a lot, and some days Matthew will take what restoratives he can get. Being a magic raven with no thumbs, that pretty much limits him to Gadling's sympathy booze. Which is not nothing. But. 

"What I wouldn't give," he says, and he may be a few drinks down already, it's possible, "for a really good blowjob right now." 

Gadling chokes. Which, fair. 

"I'm not asking, man, don't worry about it, not even sure how birds work that way and to be honest I don't think I want to find out. And you're really not my type, no offence, I'm just, Kinsey Scale zero. Maybe a one. I'd do Prince, maybe." Matthew pauses to contemplate, wonders if he can shapeshift in the Dreaming. He should ask Loosh. It'd be nice to get laid again. 

Gadling's still wheezing. Matthew remembers the point he was trying to make. "You know. Like, you come home from work and you're just beat, and it's been one of those fuckin' days, but your girl gives you a Bad Day Blowjob and everything's just not so bad anymore." 

Gadling mouths 'bad day blowjob' silently, frowns and clearly decides not to ask. Well, maybe the medieval times didn't have that. Poor guy. 

"Yeah. So everything seems better, you know? You're a bit more relaxed, you got the big sex-chemicals high, you got to see your hot girl being hot and just lettin' you be lazy about it - it's my turn on her bad days too, you know, I'm not an asshole - and most importantly you got your dick sucked. I miss it, that's all."

Gadling makes a faintly commiserating noise. Maybe he's still recovering from the choking. 

"Yeah," Matthew says. "Boss could use a bad day blowjob. Improve his mood no end. Endlessly. Ha." Matthew giggles to himself. He might be on the way to drunk. 

"Mmm," Gadling says, looking at his drink like he's wondering if it was spiked. "I've always thought so."

"Yeah!" Matthew says again. "That guy has been through it, you know? He needs a Bad Century Blowjob. Poor guy. Poor us, too, because he is pissy today. Not that I don't get it! Shit's fucked! But still. He'd feel better if he got his dicked sucked. If he has a dick? Pretty sure he does."

"Yeah..." Gadling says, apparently lost in his own thoughts about getting a good cocksucking. He's a bit glazed in the eyes. "Be nice."

"And! Not like it should be hard to find someone, he's scary and he's kind of a dick, okay, but he's really sweet under it and he's not so bad to look at. If you like the whole prince of darkness thing. Plenty of people do!"

"Shouldn't be hard at all," Gadling agrees, tracing patterns on his whisky glass. 

Wait... Is he... looking wistful? 

"Holy shit! Holy shit, dude! You! You want to suck his dick!"

Gadling buries his face in his hands. "Since the day I met him," he confesses, muffled. 

____

Will there be more? idk but semester is over soon so maybe my brain's coming back?

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 9)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Crew & Reader-insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Yandere behavior, kidnapping (again), and vague descriptions of grievous injury (need I specify whom at this point?). Slight angst. If yandere content makes you uncomfortable, please do block 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as any variation of 'one piece yandere' that you feel is necessary. Do not tolerate this behavior in real life from anyone (especially backstabbing, definitely don't tolerate that and get medical assistance as soon as possible).

What you've all been waiting for (fearfully even) is here. The beginning of the end. The same story but... different now. For the better? We'll have to find out, won't we?

Word Count: 1,788

Apparently, Marco had promised Twin-Blade a party when he returned. And as you’ve seen several times by now—before discretely sneaking back to your room to avoid the shenanigans—Whitebeard Pirates don’t need an excuse to throw a party. Once the supplies were safely stored, Twin-Blade took center stage with a bundle in his arms.

You stared at it with something approaching horror, the pit of your stomach rotting from underneath you. You’ve felt a lot of different fruits before, brushing by them as you worked. But you’d never felt one like this. A little too alive and seemingly aware of your presence in a way you didn’t care for. Miraculously less than you cared for being on a pirate ship. It felt greedy like a spoiled child asking for more sweets with sticky fingers and sugar-stained lips. Like it would take and take and take everything you are if you weren’t careful.

Maybe devil fruits always felt this… intense? When it hadn’t been eaten yet? Just a bundle of raw power and potential.

Regardless, you didn’t like it.

Twin-Blade beamed, sneaking glances at you with his expression faltering.

“O-Oyaji! We were challenged on the way back by pirates. And guess what lovely prize they had?” Twin-Blade removed the fruit from the bag. Massive, even in his large hand, and purple with pointy spikes. The whole deck gasped in shock. Devil fruit users weren’t exactly rare on the Grand Line, but finding a fruit itself was a matter of sheer luck. Twin-Blade glanced at you again only to see your pinched expression. “What is it?”

You wrinkled your nose.

“…nothin’. Just feels… weird.” You shrugged, trying to push aside the sticky, reaching sensation of the devil fruit. Twin-Blade looked intrigued.

“Oh!?” He scrambled over to you, ignoring your flinch as the fruit got too close to you. “What do you feel? Can you tell what it does?”

So close to the fruit you noticed a new sensation. An almost magnetic pull. Not a compulsion to eat or touch it, but a literal draw. Like there was a rope around you gently tugging you closer. You shuddered, hating how it started to feel hard to breath near it.

“Dark. Grabbing. I-I don’t know. Feels weird. Please go away.” You huffed. Twin-Blade paused, looking at your face before frowning.

“Sorry. Got too excited. You don’t look so good, are you alright?” Twin-Blade moved the fruit away from your face and placed the back of his hand to your forehead. You swatted at him with a scowl.

“I’m fine! Stop that!” You hissed.

“Hey, Thatch, are you going to drink some of this booze or are you offering another mug to your loving brothers?” Ace declared, raising two mugs high as food was brought out from below deck to feed the rowdy crowd under the growing stars.

Twin-Blade jolted from his thoughts, immediately incensed.

“Oh, hell no! Gimme that!” Twin-Blade ran to claim his drink. You sighed with relief before quietly heading back below deck. A large hand lowered down in front of you. You looked up to see Whitebeard leaning over with a concerned expression.

“Are you alright, my child?” You huffed, attention torn between the Yonko and the devil fruit somewhere behind you.

“Yeah. Just headed to bed. Night.” You said with clipped words, veering around him hand, shuddering at the gentle pulse of the greedy devil fruit behind you.

Whitebeard’s eyes fixed on you as you walked below deck, dodging party goers and cooks bringing more food and booze up.

--*--

Thatch raised his mug up high with a cheerful laugh, accepting the teasing questions about his new prize. Ace kept glancing back every so often with a frown before drunken cried brought him back.

“What’s the matter, Ace?” Thatch asked, leaning against the younger man’s shoulder with a grin. Ace gave him a sideways glance.

“Nothing… I guess I’m just worried about them.” Ace tipped his head to the side, indicating the entrance to below deck. “They don’t really stay for parties but they seemed really eager to leave this time.” Thatch grimaced.

“Yeah. I think the devil fruit was messing with them.” Thatch huffed, irritated that his plan to drag you from your shell backfired so spectacularly. “What the hell does ‘dark’ and ‘grabbing’ even mean?”

Ace shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. They don’t usually talk about their devil fruit with anyone.” Ace explained. “But maybe you could ask? Couldn’t hurt at least. Maybe not with the fruit—”

“Zehahaha~! Got yourself quite the prize, eh commander?” Teach plopped down next to him suddenly with a cheerful grin and red face. He leaned over to ‘whisper’. “So… are ya going to eat it?”

Thatch sighed.

“…I don’t know. I don’t even know what it does. What if it’s really lame? I only get one shot, you know!” Thatch grumbled. “And your newest sibling seems more on edge than usual.”

Teach smacked his back hard with an uproarious laugh.

“ZEHAHAHA~! You’ll figure it out! Maybe they just need a bit to sort themselves out?” Teach suggested. Thatch smiled, feeling a little reassured at the possibility. Night had long since fallen and the party was still in full swing. They should be asleep by now.

“Ah~ I wish I could talk to them.” Thatch sighed wistfully.

“Well why don’t you?” Thatch looked at Teach in surprise.

“They’re probably asleep…?” Teach grinned.

“Well, it can’t hurt to check! And hey, I don’t think they ate anything, either!” Thatch bolted up.

“Ahck! What! I told them to eat while I was gone!” Thatch whined, his face hot as he swayed on his feet. Teach laughed at his misery, standing up to help steady him.

“Let’s make a food run and see if they’re still up, commander. Who knows, maybe they’ll be in a mood to talk after a bit of food?” Teach suggested reasonably.

Thatch, even a bit tipsy, could see no fault in the logic. Or possibly because he was tipsy? No matter, he was going to do the best damn food run of his life.

He needed to talk to you!

Thatch waved to Ace and, with Teach’s help, stumbled up to hopefully get food good enough to tempt you into speaking to him.

The whole time Teach was laughing and joking, teasing Thatch for getting so damn tipsy—which he honestly deserved, he underestimated the strength of the booze, which is a terribly rookie mistake to make as a Whitebeard Pirate.

“What’s the bag for?” Thatch frowned, rummaging in the fridge to make a quick snack. Teach chuckled, loading up the bag.

“What? Do you think you could carry food and walk in a straight line?” Teach asked.

“Ah. Good idea, Teach, eheh, I’d probably drop it on the floor and waste it all!” Thatch cackled, shaking his head as he grabbed a couple bottles of juice. He was probably grabbing too much food, but he wasn’t sure if Teach would be sticking around for the conversation and as a D, Teach ate a lot.

Teach gave Thatch a slightly odd smile, chuckling under his breath as he finished loading up the goodies.

By the time they made it to the hallway with your room, Thatch was now a lot more sober, aided by two whole glasses of water. He didn’t want to make a total ass of himself by being too tipsy to make any sense.

The door was, unexpectedly, locked. So Marco or someone else had already came by to check on you. Which meant you had to be asleep now. Thatch had a key, sure, but now he wasn’t so sure he should actually wake you up.

He paused in front of the door, looking at the key.

There was a soft, sharp sound behind him.

Like a knife hissing as it was pulled from a scabbard.

The hot, burning pain took his breath away and made his knees go weak.

He collapsed on the floor instantly, thinking hazily that he was having a stroke or something equally terrible.

He gasped, shuddering with agony as he was moved. Teach standing over him as he gently took something from his jacket.

Thatch couldn’t focus. His thoughts circling round and around again.

Teach was holding the devil fruit.

Teach had the key.

Teach had the devil fruit and the key.

He was stepping over Thatch into the room and Thatch found his heart racing under protest. Only capable of gasping weakly as his body refused to cooperate.

His eyes slid shut for only a moment. Briefly lifting up as Teach stepped over him again, locking the door and dropping the key on Thatch’s chest. A second bag slung over his shoulder.

“Zehahaha—nothing personal, commander.” Teach smiled sincerely before walking away.

What?

Thatch closed his eyes again and waited for the world to make sense.

It only grew colder, his erratic thoughts growing increasingly distant and unreal.

He thought there was danger, but where? He was a little cold, sure, but he was fine otherwise… right?

“THATCH!” Hot hands cradled his face, something like molten liquid dripping down his face.

Reluctantly, Thatch opened his eyes, the world growing soft and faint. Someone was crying over him. Probably because he was so damn handsome, heh. Tan skin and freckles all over. Silver eyes like a blade—he’s bleeding out, isn’t he? Seas, he’s not ready to die—overflowing with tears.

“MARCO! QUICK! SOMEONE GET MARCO!” The young man lightly smacked Thatch’s face. “H-Hang in there, Thatch! Y-You’re going to be fine! I promise!” He promised desperately.

But something was bothering Thatch. More than the chill in his bones and strong enough to pierce through the cotton in his head, numbing his tongue and fingers.

He didn’t know why, but your name was the last thing that left his lips.

Where did you go?

“THATCH!”

--*--

You shuddered awake hazily to the rocking of a boat. Your neck bruised and ropes wrapped around your body. The sea waves lapped away near your head.

You could see the rising sun on the horizon and a distant island when you turned your head. Something soft bracing your bruised neck from the wood of the row boat.

“…Mmm?” You hummed, head swaying as you laid back down.

“Hmm, go back to sleep. We’ve got a ways yet before shore and between the two of us, I’m definitely the better rower. Don’t worry—" You closed your eyes reluctantly and began to drift off. “—I’ll get a decent boat to sail properly with, zehahaha!”

You fell back asleep with the distorted sense that something was wrong.

Dark shadows practically wrapped around your ankles as you fell into darkness again.

[summerlovingbaby]

great balls of fire

great balls of fire

Dustin had been annoying Eddie to go to some dive bar out on the outskirts of town. How he got in the club remained unseen, because Dustin looked 16 on a goodday, but most days he only looked 12. But apparently his “night out” was reinventing. “ Reinvgorating” was what he used to describe it, and while Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what that word ment, though he assumed it was something good, he was bored, and scouting new locations for his band. Apparently he saw some girl, and while he only had the courage to watch from a far, he knew Eddie would have to see her to understand. So he drove to the outskirts of town, flashed his ID at the bouncer who barley looked at it, and let him in.

The club was shit, fulled with middle age men who pissed away their paychecks on bad booze and worse women. The bar was filled with men stirring warm beer with her finger, and a handful of older women sipping on fruity drinks.

Thats when he saw her, a woman, no older than 20, slinging drinks. She was wearing bright red, which stood out in the dreary environment, and her maroon lipstick drew all eyes to the center of her face. Smudges of silver glittery eyeshadow messily covered her eyelids, brought together with a delicate sweep of eyeliner applied with a gentle hand.

Her bottom half was hidden behind the counter, he couldn’t tell what she was wearing but he hoped it wasn’t much. Dustin was right, the girl was pretty, the girl was more then pretty, she was stunning. Shockingly stunning, the type of hot that only existed in pictures, too pretty for reality, yet here she was in a shitty bar. 

She smiled at a customer, as she mixed her a drink, she said something that Eddie couldn’t quite pick up over the loud music, then for a minute, she looked at him, well technically past him, but he was being optimistic. She had pretty eyes, brown and subtle, hints of gold bouncing off the flashing club lights.

A mess of shouts brought her attention to the stage, where another bartender was getting grabbed at by handsy men. She tried her best to shove them off, but their were just too many, and they were too drunk to hear no for an awser. He looked at the club security who stared at the crowd, carelessly. Useless. Eddie was just about to step  in when he saw Y/N put the drink she was stirring aside, and pushed herself on the counter.

Sitting flat on her butt, she swung her legs over and landed on the otherside. First things Eddie noticed was her legs. They were shockingly bare. Most of the women in Hawkins barley exposed an ankle, let alone full upper thigh, but she was wearing something that Eddie could barley classify as shorts, and more of slightly long underwear.

She reached back behind the bar, grabbed a glass bottle full of booze and took a long swig. Then skipped to the stage, and grabbed the microphone.

“ HEEEELLLLLOOOOO,” she hollered into the microphone.

The crowd calmed down in her presence, and Eddie found himself moving closer to the stage.

“ It’s me your favorite bartender, Y/N L/N,” she said quieter. The bar mostly fell silent, but one lone voice shouted from the void of the crowd.

“ Sing another song!”

“ Alright, alright, slow down give me a moment, we talked about this. I will only sing a song if you behave yourself, and ya’ll have not been very friendly with my friend. You don’t touch what isn’t yours, and you certainly don’t touch when people say no, now give my friend an apology.” she placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot as a chorus of men apologized.

Eddie walked headfirst in the crowd, unable to take his eyes of the stage where Y/N stood. He watched as she took the microphone from the stand, and paced around until she was satisfied with the cacophony of apologizes. 

She walked to the corner of the stage, where an old rickety piano rested. Leaning on it and putting her whole body weight on it, she slowly pushed it to the center of the stage, doubling back for an old ugly barstool that was made into a makeshift paino bench.

She sat down on the piano, lifted her hands dramaticly, and smashed them down on the keys. A few people in the crowd must have recognized the names because a few sparse cheers erupted. Then with an attention grabbing growl she started to sing, and Eddie had to stop himself from  crawling on stage.

You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain

Too much love drives a girl insane

You broke my will

But what a thrill

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!

Eddie didn’t know what to do with himself. Pretty girls like that didn’t sing songs like that. Pretty girls like that didn’t sing with such conviction and passion it was scary. Pretty girls wouldn’t be so effortlessly sensual if they tried. In hawkins it was always about stolen glances, and what was left to the imagination.

I laughed at love 'coz I thought it was funny

You came along and you moved me, honey

I've changed my mind

This love is fine

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!

She played the piano like a performer, turning to the crowd every chance she could, smiling and nodding. Giving them a show. Eddie caught her attention. In a crowd of leering men he was the youngest, thats what caught her eye. But what held it was him. Most boys his age wore polos and khakis. But he wore leather and studs, and what was that? Eyeliner.

He looked handsome, and stared at her like she wasn’t a piece of meat for sale at the market. He watched her performance like it was the last she would ever give, and savored every note, and she liked it. She liked the way he looked at her.

Kiss me, baby

Mmmmh, it feels good

Hold me, baby

Well, I'm off to love you like a lover should

Oh! You're fine, so kind

Got to tell this world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine

He managed to hold her attention, as she barley looked at the keys, just sung to the crowd. It was only then that he realized that she was loud enough to sing without it. Then before he knew it the song was over, and he couldn’t tell what he wanted more, to hear her sing again, or to talk to her after.

He waited til she returned from the stage at the bar, and sat with his cheek resting on his palm. She sauntered over to him with a wide smile.

“ What can I get you?” her voice was sweet, but with a rough edge like cinnamon.

“ You’re number,” he said shyly.

“ You don’t waste time,” she said. This wasn’t the first time she’d been asked out at this bar, but the first time she was interested. 

“ You ‘re quite the performer,” he said, “ guitar?”

“ You play?” she asked. He nodded. “ So what brings you here?”

“ I like music,” he shrugged, “ and you sing really well.”

“ Yeah, okay,” she nodded. She grabbed a pen from across the counter, and scribbled 10 digits on his forearm. “ I like handsome boys like you,” she said, “ certainly much too handsome to be here.” she smiled, then turned away to deal with other customers.

And his balls were certainly on fire.

taglist

[secretdiaryofcrowley]

Where we left off: Shax, newly anointed Duchess of Hell, jumpscared our hero in his bentley….

…. and apparently, she wants to bribe me with liquor-filled chocolates to come back to Hell. I’m not going back, but first I puncture the chocolates with a pen to drink all the liquor. Oh, and did I mention I’m small? (the puncturing and drinking thingie wouldn’t work too well if I was my usual size).

“Stop deluding yourself, Crowley. Deep inside, you already know that Aziraphale left for one reason only. You are a demon and you will never be good enough for him.” Shax tilts her head to the side in one of those familiar bird-demon gestures and watches me intently with one eye.  “How does that make you feel, Crowley? Hurt? Angry? Will you let an angel treat you this way? Break you and cast you away like a used toy?”

I clench the pen and ram into the next piece of chocolate like a tiny lance. This is ridiculous. She doesn’t know the least thing about my angel. However delusional Aziraphale may be for believing he can make a difference in Heaven, deep down his intentions are good. He never wanted to hurt me.

“You gave up everything just to be with him, and you’ve risked everything, even your own destruction. And at the first grasp of power – he’s gone!”

No. No, no, no, no! This isn’t about power. Aziraphale doesn’t care about power at all. He wants to change the system from within. He wants to turn Heaven into the place of light, he always believed it’s meant to be.

But in this belief, there’s no place for a demon. There would have been a place for the angel I was, but I can no longer be that angel.

Shax’ eyes glitter. “I’m not offering you a job, Crowley, I’m offering you a chance at revenge. Rise from the ashes and use that burning fury inside you against the one who wronged you. Unite with me and strike him down on the battlefield in the Great War to come.”

Revenge? Burning fury? I almost choke on the burning whiskey running down my throat. Course, I understand where this is going, she wants to me to direct my anger against Aziraphale. She wants me to become the big bad demon in shiny black armour raining fire and destruction in his unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

Bloody Heaven, I can almost picture this. Aziraphale and me having a face-off in the midst of battle. He’s probably wearing something silvery-white and carrying – I don’t know – some flaming sword or lancea-longini-spear-of-destiny-thingie. And then we’d look into each other’s eyes and stab each other very dramatically with Heaven and Hell watching. And maybe, just maybe, we’d die even more dramatically in each other’s arms with white and black wings entwined.

There’s only one little mistake in this scenario, we did this whole silver knight - dark knight scenario a thousand years ago in King Arthur’s Court and it hasn’t become any less pathetic since then. And second – a crank handle isn’t really made for stabbing. Or fighting in wars for that matter.

“Sorry, Shax.” I’m back to normal size now, sitting in my usual seat behind the wheel. “Nice career option, just not seeing myself there. Anyway, thanks for the booze and tell Hastur, I said ‘hi’”.

She looks at me incredulously. “This choice will have consequences. If you stand aside like a coward, you will be crushed like one.”

“There are always consequences.” I shrug. “But it’s not cowardice, although you probably don’t believe me.”

“What is it, then?” She eyes me suspiciously.

“I just don’t feel it, Shax. All this silly power play for rank and influence and who-get’s-the-biggest-throne-and-the-shiniest-medal. I know, we demons are supposed to live for this, but I just don’t care.  And, you know, that eternal-fiend-thing with the angels? Don’t feel that either.”

“Earth has made you weak.” She shakes her head. “All of us will assemble and take our positions in the last stand. Like on a chess board. If you don’t take yours, you will be totally insignificant in the game to come. And my offer was better than anything you could've hoped to achieve. You could’ve been my Second-in-Command, once I sit on Beelzebub’s old throne.”

She can’t know that she’s already the second person to offer me a position like that. The third, actually, if you count “The United States of Beelzebub”.

No.

No Heaven for me. No Hell for me. I’m done.

“I’m perfectly fine with being insignificant.” I want to add more, but she’s already vanished.

Anyway, I’m keeping the coffee. Or in my case, the liquor.

~*~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

[amostimprobabledream]

Hi! Throwing you something for kinktober since I loved your Ulquiorra story. Reader and Izuru Kira, post TYBW. Overstimulation. (Caused by his body modifications at Mayuri's hands. Crossed nerv endings, I don't know, you name it.)

Ooh, interesting! I've never written for Kira before, so I hope this one turned out all right. https://archiveofourown.org/works/59555803/chapters/152154691 dragging me back into having (Izuru Kira x Reader) - Kinktober: Overstimulation

“Oh…oh, fuck…”

A drawn-out groan reaches your ears as you look down at the sight beneath you. A smile pulls at your cheeks, and you know that if you could see yourself with such a smug grin on your face, you’d want to slap it off.

Your name spills from Kira’s lips, his blue eyes looking dazed, as if you’ve smacked him over the head with something heavy.

“Oi, don’t tap out on me now.” You instruct him, then pause, wondering with amusement where the ‘oi’ came from – you’ve been hanging out with Ikkaku, Renji and Hisagi too much. “I’m not done with you just yet.”

A wan smile flickers at the edges of Kira’s mouth, and his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“I don’t know how you have so much energy.” He says, an amused note you don’t often hear in his voice, and you give a little laugh yourself, rolling your eyes at him.

“You’re talking like you’re some old geezer. Come in, Izuru, I know you’ve got a little life in you still.”

When it comes to fucking, you're relentless with Kira, but you suspect he appreciates it. It’s a sort of catharsis for both of you, you get to work off your frustrations and stress of the day by using his body to drive yourself wild, and Kira can let someone else take the reins and go with the flow, a stark difference from the responsibilities of a vice-captain and the endless slog of paperwork to catch up on after the war, especially with Rose still recovering. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship borne from a drunken experiment that you’re very happy you both partook in, throwing caution to the winds when celebrating kicking the Quincies the fuck out of the Seireitei. You don't look at Kira like he's made of glass or coddle him like some do - poor Izuru. Poor, abandoned Izuru. Let's be gentle with him. Fuck that. Kira might wear his sadness openly, but that doesn't make him weak. Doesn't make him lacking.

Which is why you're riding him until he can't take it. Until he's practically incoherent with pleasure, his muffled groans and whimpers filling the room, his hair mussed and sticking to his forehead. You love him like this, letting loose in a way that he doesn’t normally allow himself. Kira tends to bottle up how he feels until it comes out when booze loosens him up, you hate the thought of him marinating in his own melancholy, too self-effacing to ask for help.

“God, sweetheart…”

Of course, your way of helping is a bit unconventional (and, you’re not going to lie to yourself, a bit selfish too), but Kira’s never voiced any complaints about it.

You reach and brush the seam where his modifications start, machinery joining seamlessly into flesh. You have to admit, the craftsmanship is a thing of wonder, and it’s only thanks to Mayuri Kurotsuchi’s genius and willingness to do whatever’s necessary that you have Kira with you still. The thought brings up an unexpected well of emotion in you that you force yourself to push aside for now – this really isn’t the time or place to suddenly get weepy over what could have been. Kira certainly didn’t sit around crying when there was a war to win.

Instead you trace the cybernetics with fascination gleaming in your eyes – you’re not a member of Twelfth for nothing. Kira said that he can feel touch to the implements holding his torso together, and being the curious creature you were, you ran a hand down one of the metal bars.

Kira keened out loud, apparently just as surprised as you were.

Oh?

“You like that, huh?” you smirk down at him, probably looking like a smug little racoon.

“S-sweetheart…” Kira said, half-pleading and half-demanding.

Slyly, you slid a hand up and down the metal bar and Kira starts squirming and bucking beneath you like a man possessed. It feels kind of comical to you, like you were jerking him off in the wrong place, but the reaction from Kira is immediate and wholly gratifying – it’s a good job you’re sitting on top of him or his squirming might have made it a bit difficult for you to keep your grip.

“Who knew machinery could be so receptive to touch?” you muse out loud, using both hands now, and Kira’s groaning began to grow so loud that even you are a bit taken aback. Perhaps you should have gagged him beforehand.

Or asked him for permission before you started just grabbing at whatever you please. A voice in your head scolds you.

“Sorry…”

You grimace apologetically and begin to loosen your grip, guilt nipping at you – you always get carried away and do things without-

“Don’t!” Kira gasps beneath you, his hand shooting out and gripping your wrist. “Nngh…don’t stop.”

You blink, but a bubble of delight rising in your chest – getting Kira to be more upfront about what he wants has been something of a challenge, so hearing him saying out so bluntly gives you a peculiar sense of pride.

“Good boy.” You purr. “Lemme make you feel good.”

And so you do. You continue fingering the body modifications on his chest and arm, marvelling at how sensitive it is, considering it wasn’t originally attached to his body, and rock you hips rhythmically against him as you go, but almost as an afterthought – watching Kira unspooling beneath you, his face obtaining a glow to it and his breathing laboured in the throes of his own approaching orgasm is more than satisfying to you. Kira doesn’t neglect your pleasure despite his own, fingers dipping into your panties and teasing your drenched entrance. You groan out loud, fizzing sparks of arousal making your movements grow sloppy. He’s got lovely fingers, strong and slender from all that paperwork and writing haikus, but they have other uses too…

“Yes…mmm…I’m almost-!” Kira sputters beneath you. “Please, baby, it feels so good…”

Baby? That’s a new one but you don’t dislike it, and to demonstrate your feelings on this new pet name, you oblige his request. Kira’s entire body shudders beneath you, a soft groan that makes you shiver leaving his mouth, before he flops back onto the futon, breathing hard.

“You okay?” you ask him in a softer voice than before, brushing some of his wheat blonde hair off his face. Kira’s eyes meet yours and he gives you a little smile.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” You say, leaning down to kiss him, a faint trace of green tea on his lips. Then you can’t resist adding, enjoying the realisation dawning on his face that he’s created a monster:

“Hey, wanna see what other functions Kurotsuchi installed on you?”

[shyanddreamy]

You can't save everyone

Happy Lowman x Reader | Part 1

Nights at the club were always great, but not as great as this one. This night was savage; it was pretty obvious that Sons knew how to party. Music was loud and booze was plentiful, and after another round of tequila shots, there you were, observing them with a stupid drunken smile in your face. You wasn´t sure at the beginning, when you first moved to Charming, but you like them. They were your family. Or the closest thing to a family you had ever known.

Your gaze met with Happy’s eyes, who had a croweater sitting on his lap. That woman was dynamite, she was one of the prettiest, and had made clear her preference for Happy. Even so, the passionate way she kissed his neck was not to your liking. After a few minutes of awkward eye contact, he decided to push her aside and walked towards you.

“Are you having fun?”, you asked him.

“I am”

At that time, he had his hands on your hips and his lips dangerously close to yours. You weren’t his Old Lady; not even his girl. The first time he brought you to the clubhouse, he told his brothers you were a friend. His exact words were “someone you can trust”, but your relationship was much deeper than just that.

Without saying any other word, he kissed you softly. He looked all tough, but he liked that kind of kisses. Hardly anyone would think that Happy could be delicate, but you knew it well. You swore you could have melted on his arms sometimes. But this time wasn’t one of them.

“I’m not gonna fuck you, Hap”, you murmured.

“Why?”, he asked you with his raspy voice.

“That croweater had touched you everywhere by now. You even have remnants of her red lipstick on your neck”, you said as he put more distance between both. “I don’t eat leftovers”.

His grimace didn’t change at all; it was as impassive as always.

“So, I better go”, he suggested.

You didn’t answer to that. It was pointless. You wanted him to stay and enjoy the rest of the party together, talk with his brothers and the rest, have fun, drink more… But what Happy wanted was different, so you just nodded and let him go. And he left for the dorms, but not before putting an arm around the shoulders of that croweater who willingly accompanied him.

It was nothing that hadn’t happened a dozen times before. You knew him and his way of life. And maybe you weren’t much better. You tried to convince yourself that it didn’t hurt anymore, but it was a bit disappointing and always left a bitter taste.

It was a long time ago when you first met Happy. Now you could say it was a funny story, more or less. Someone had killed one of his brothers in Tacoma and Happy broke into your house at night accusing you of being the murderer. Actually, it was pretty scary to see Happy in your living room with a loaded gun ready to pull the trigger after getting your confession. But you were innocent. Apparently, the offender who shot the Son was driving your car, that’s how they thought you were guilty.

“The car isn’t mine”, you assured him. “Is new. Stolen”.

“Liar”

“If I wanted to make up an excuse, I would have chosen a better one, dickhead”, you said. “Yesterday, someone tipped me off about an abandon car not far from here. My intentions were to give it a coat of paint, make a few changes, and sell it again. I need the money, that’s all. I haven’t killed anybody”.

“Who?”, he asked you. Since the beginning, you learnt that chatty wasn’t a good adjective to describe Happy.

“Who what?”

“Who told you about the car”.

Although he was deadly serious, you smirked slightly.

“I know how you guys work. You hate rats”, you warned him. “And I ain’t no rat”.

Happy was intimidating in the distance, but even more when he was near. However, you kept your chin up. He was at your home accusing you of committing a murder you haven’t done. You had nothing to be ashamed of.

“I’m gonna get out of your house with his name”, he insisted. “And it would be better for you to talk now, or we won’t chat anymore”.

“What will happen to him?”

“Not your business”

You moistened your lips and intensified your gaze, while his grew darker by the second.

“That motherfucker beat me up twice. If you promise me you’re gonna kill him, I’ll gladly tell you his name”.

You had done some business with him before, but he was a little piece of shit who was always trying to play you. World would be a better place without him.

“That’s a promise I can keep, little one.”

Happy killed the guy two days after. And it would have been the last time you would have seen him if it hadn’t been for a prospect, who decided to show up in your house more than two weeks after that meeting. Apparently, Happy had sent him to invite you to the Sons of Anarchy clubhouse on Friday night. You thought about it all week before finally deciding to go. It was a dangerous move, but bad choices in life had always made it more interesting.

When you arrived at the club not knowing what to expect, you found it crowded. A lot of booze, lots of drugs and lots of noisy drunks. You noticed Happy minutes after your entrance, but he spent almost an hour staring at you from the distance while you were drinking in the bar counter talking with the prospect. He was the one who invited you, so he was the one who had to make the first move. Until he finally did.

“You’re here”, he said as he sat in the stool next to you.

“You wanted me here”, you clarified. “Why?”

“I liked our talk”.

“The part where you threatened to kill me or the part where you threatened to harm me?”, you asked him ironically.

“All of it, I suppose”.

“So, why am I here?”, you insisted.

“Wanted to see you again”, he answered.

You smiled slightly, shook your head, and took a sip of your beer.

“If these are your best phrases to flirt, I have to say that they’re lame”.

“I don’t usually need more”.

You gave him a look, but he was completely confident. And strange as it may seem, it worked. That tough appearance, his mysticism and those black eyes that seemed capable of knowing what you were thinking actually worked.

You spent a few hours in the clubhouse barely talking, drinking, smoking, and watching the stupid things drunks usually do. It was an unpredictable night, but it was a good one. And when he offered to drive you home, when you got there, you let him in.

“That thing your brother asked you. What he called me”, you said, unable to remember the word. “He asked you if I were a new…”

“Croweater”, he answered.

“What does it mean?”

“The chicks who are always around the club. To serve us some drinks. To hook up”, he briefly explained to you. “That’s a croweater”.

“I’m not a croweater”, you assured him completely serious. In response, he reduced the distance between both and brought his hand to the back of your neck with a softness you weren’t expecting from him.

“I know.”

That was the first night you spent together, but it was far from being the last. From that day on, you started seeing each other almost weekly. He would come to your house at night, you would fuck, and he would leave in the morning. Maybe it was because the sex was great, maybe it was something else. There was not much talk, but eventually –and just sometimes– you shared something more about yourselves and your lives. It could be just a stupid story from your childhood or a dream from last night, but it was nice. It felt right. Nevertheless, after a few months with that routine, Happy announced you one day that he was going nomad, which meant he was leaving Tacoma.

“First time I saw you, I thought you were dangerous”, you confessed to him on his last night, both naked on the bed. You were outlining his tattoos with your fingertips. The truth was that you felt safe with him. Your head on his chest, the sound of his heart beats, his arms around you, his calm breathing… You would miss it. “And I know you are dangerous, but it’s not the kind of danger I imagined. You are fucking addictive, Happy.”

When his lips kissed your head affectionately, you closed your eyes trying to feel as much as you could now, so you could remember it once he was gone.

“I understand the feeling. I feel it too.”

For long weeks, you didn’t hear anything from him. It was as if he had vanished. And it was awful. It was until one day Happy called you to say he had two days off and suggested you spend them together. Obviously, you accepted it. You couldn’t refuse that offer. When he left again, the pain came back, but that time something changed. After those days, he started calling you more often. The calls were sporadic and brief. He didn´t talk much in person, so he didn’t on the phone either. But hearing his voice was enough for your sad soul. Anyways, they were always the same three questions: “how are you going?”, “are you safe?”, and “haven’t you killed anybody yet?” He never said “I miss you” or anything like that, but you knew he did. Words weren’t necessary.

Perhaps he had his reasons, but came the moment when he announced to you that he was no longer wanted to be a nomad. Instead, he was moving to Charming. And surprisingly, he asked you to go with him. It was an easy decision to take, as there was nothing special to stay in Tacoma for.

“I want to know why you want me to go there. With you”, you told him the day he knocked on your door with that proposition.

“I’m going to be there. And I want you to be there with me too. That’s all.”

“I don’t get it, Happy”, you insisted. “I don’t get anything that’s going on between us. We've been doing this, whatever this is, for a long time.”

Happy tensed his jaw. He knew as well as you that it was strange, but you have never had that conversation.

“I like having you around. Spending time with you. And I don’t want it to end”, he responded. Happy wasn’t the kind of man who was good at expressing his feelings, but this time he seemed genuine. “I want to keep you close. Know that you’re safe. And you're always gonna be safe with me”.

At his words, you felt your hearth melt.

“It’s crazy, Hap. Where am I gonna live? I don’t have enough money to move at the moment.”

“I’ve already got a house there”, he said. “And you’ll have your own dorm. We can share the rent. That way's cheaper”.

“Always thinking about ways to spend the less amount of money”, you smirked as you walked towards him and put your arms around his neck. “The money is your only reason? Is not because you want to be able to fuck me more often?”

Although he curved the corners of his mouth into a mischievous smile, Happy just shrugged his shoulders.

“Moving together is a big step. It could be kind of scary”, you murmured against his lips.

“I’ve seen a lot of scary things in my life. This is not going to scare me, Y/N.”

That’s how you ended up in Charming. And unlike when you were in Tacoma, in Charming you spent a lot more time with the Sons. Almost every afternoon and every night you were in the club, with them, and it was perfect. At least it was perfect at the beginning. As time goes by, the coexistence became more difficult, adding the fact that the dark times were harder than you might have expected. Every time Happy left, you didn’t know if he would come back. And when he was there, he wanted to be with you as soon as bang any random chick. Waiting worried for his life only to see him go into the arms of a croweater on his return was harsh. But you got used to it.

The problem was that now you were in what seemed to be a long period of peace. And without more fights and deaths, you had begun to hope something else. Something more. You weren't sure of what it was, but there were things that were wrong. It no longer felt right.

After several unsuccessful attempts to keep the fun going, you decided it would be better for you to go home. Unfortunately, Chibs noticed your intentions.

“Going home already?”, he asked you. “Thought you were going to wait for Happy.”

“I don’t mind walking home.”

“You’re alright, lass?”, he insisted. Chibs was too perceptive sometimes.

“Don’t know”, you muttered with a little sad smile. “I need to think”.

“I’ll tell Happy you left”, he nodded. “Keep yourself out of trouble.”

“As always, Pres.”

In your way home, once everything around you were in complete silence, you tried to rethink about what had happened tonight. But this time, you tried to be completely honest with yourself. And the truth was that you couldn’t bear it anymore. You were tired and stagnant. Life was too short, even more when you were in the outlaw world. Maybe it was time for a change.

*

As someone entered in your dorm, you opened your eyes.

“Didn’t want to wake you up”, Happy said.

“It’s okay”, you sighed.

“Can I come in?”

“You never ask for permission.”

“You never go home without me”, he answered back. However, he decided to walk towards the bed and lie next to you in the space you had already made for him.

Having two bedrooms, you didn’t always sleep together, but Happy used to enter in your room even if it was only to spend some minutes in there with you. You loved that habit as much as you loved to embrace him and lay your head on his chest. Nevertheless, this time you stayed in the same position you were before.

“What time is it?”

“Midday”, he replied.

“Have you come back now?”

“A while ago. I've taken a shower before.”

“I’m glad you don’t stain my sheets with red lipstick.”

You heard Happy sigh, but he didn’t answer. You understood that dialogue wasn’t his thing, but sometimes his silence was exasperating.

 “I think I need to go.”

“Where?”, he asked you.

“Don’t know. Far from Charming”

“Why? And for what?”

“Stop with the fucking questions”, you complained. “I just need to go. I can’t stay here anymore”.

“Are you running away from me?”

Listening those words from his mouth was painful, so you needed a few seconds to calm down before you turned on the bed to look at him. His eyes were fixed on yours as if he wasn’t able to look at anything else.

“I don’t want to run away from you, but I need it”.

“That makes no sense”.

“It makes sense for me”.

“Is because that hoe? Are you mad at me?”, he asked, frowned.

You took your hand to his face, caressing his cheek softly, but his expression did not relax in the slightest.

“You are the most valuable thing I have in my life, Happy, and I’m glad you let me into your life and spend so much time with you. But lately things have changed. I need to leave Charming and clarify my ideas. And then I’ll come back”.

“Or maybe you never do it”, he retorted.

You felt the tears in your eyes, but you did your best to hold them back.

“I love you in a way you can’t reciprocate. And it’s okay. I’m not mad at you for that. But every time I realize you don’t feel the same… It’s killing me, Happy. And I don’t want to end up dead inside.”

After a few seconds of awkward silence, he wrapped his arms around you, guiding your head to his chest like most mornings. And once again, there were no words from him. You decided to caress his abdomen while his fingers caressed your body with tenderness. You would have stayed in this exact moment forever, but it was just a fantasy.

“I have to go to Santo Padre in two days”, he announced. From time to time, he went there for club business. “You can come with me. Maybe the travel is good for you. We can talk more. Spend more time together. Just us”.

“Okay. I’ll think about it”.

*

The club wasn't worried about the fact that you were going to Santo Padre with Happy. They trusted him with their lives, so they asked no questions about his decision to take you with him this time. So, with just a backpack as your baggage, you got into the van and started your journey.

In a normal situation, you wouldn’t have talked much unless you tried to engage in conversation. But this time, you didn’t. Actually, you didn’t even know what to say. Anyway, the conversation was light and trivial. It did not escape your notice that Happy was more talkative than usual. Maybe he was doing an effort.

After hours of travelling, you arrived at Santo Padre, Mayans’ territory. They were waiting for Happy in their clubhouse, so there was where you went. You felt some gazes on you as you got out of the van, but it could be just curiosity given that it was strange for them to see Happy with feminine company while he was doing business.

The right thing would be to wait until Happy was done at a prudent distance, but your bladder was full by then, so your only option was to ask them as politely as you could if you could go inside to use the bathroom. You knew they do trust Happy when they let you into the clubhouse alone, without one of them keeping an eye on you. Or maybe they could tell by your face that you really needed to go to the bathroom urgently. Unfortunately, when you opened the door, you found out that someone was already in there.

“Fuck. Shit. I’m sorry”, you said, half-closing the door again in a rush. “Can you just hurry? If not, I think I’m gonna make a mess and I don’t…”

You couldn’t end the phrase before the Mayan who was inside came out of the bathroom, letting the place completely free for you. You saw his smile, as if he was ready to laugh at your desperation or to make an ironic remark, but you didn’t have time for that either. So, as soon as you crossed the door, you closed it in his face.

“Fucking Happy”, you growled. You had told him that you needed to stop somewhere for a toilet break, but he had insisted that you were almost there. Of course, that wasn´t true at all.

Once you left the clubhouse, relieved, you decided to wait near the van until their man talk ended. It only took about ten minutes more before Happy shook hands with the Mayans Pres.

“We’re ready to go”, he said to you.

“Can you drop me off in the city centre?”, you asked him, but Happy frowned in confusion.

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I’ve never told you that”, you answered.

“But I thought… We are far from Charming. That’s what you wanted”.

“It is not what I wanted. I need to take a time for myself. I already explained you that”.

Happy tensed his jaw, but he added nothing more. So, assuming that the conversation was over, you threw away the cigarette and went inside the van again. Happy hesitated, but in last instance, he approached again to Mayans Pres and VP, who had been watching you still outside their clubhouse.

“I have to ask you a personal favour, Bish”, he told him. Even though from your position you could not hear him, you had a good idea of what he was saying. “She’s gonna stay here for a while, in the city. I would appreciate if you could keep an eye on her. Just in case”.

“Ok. No problem”, Bishop answered. However, he was a little confused. He wasn´t expecting Happy to be dealing with that kind of things.

As Happy got into the driver’s seat, you glanced over him with your arms crossed.

“I can take care of myself”, you mumbled.

“I know.”

The short drive was in completely silence, but this time, it was an awkward one. However, it was impossible for you decipher what Happy was thinking. And once he stopped the van again where you had asked him, you knew this was it.

“I should go now, I guess”, you said, but Happy did not open his mouth. He even refused to look at you. You weren’t expecting one last kiss or a deep conversation, but at least a goodbye would have been nice. “Take care, Happy”.

As soon as you opened the door, his hand caught your forearm. Every single muscle of his body was tense, and his gaze was more intense than ever before.

“Call me”, he simply said. “If you need something. Anything. Just call me”.

“Okay. I’ll do it”, you assured him softly.

You took the hand that was grabbing your arm with yours and kissed his knuckles lovingly. It was hard for you as well, especially as you had not been separated for a long time, but it was for the best. You couldn’t say what would happen or when you would see each other again, so it was better to not say anything at all. With a last brief smiled, you left the car.

→ Part 2

[rreskk]

PLEASE could I request some angst with fluff at the end with Trevor?? Like maybe they’re fighting then make up in the end?

Whooooop, WHOOOOOOOOOP. You've ordered yourself a hot cup of tea.

Summary: Trevor's neglectful treatment was finally brought up and he couldn't help but pour his heart out.

TW: -Mentions of drugs. -Angst (mental illness).

Word count: 1325

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

“Why won’t you fuckin’ talk to me?” Trevor stood at the doorway of your kitchen. He watched as you attempted to ignore him by washing the dishes.

That morning had been a living Hell. He woke up hung-over after a meth-induced rampage. Who knew that 5 days straight of pure speed would leave him like a lifeless zombie the morning after no use. He was rude, unpleasant, lazy, neglectful.

Now, you knew he would never mean anything so harmful. He was emotional, you knew that. He was sensitive and completely lacking control of his intrusive urges, yet this time blew it.

You wanted to spend the day together. Usually he was more than happy to, but this morning, he made a pathetic excuse while also commenting how “annoying” you were being. All you did was wait for him to wake and ask for a day out. No way did you expect him to take it offensively. Trevor would make assumptions that you were trying to distract his life-style and business. You were shocked to find that he accused you of taking away his sense of pride and succession, all while being grouchy and refusing to acknowledge the kindness you were offering. No excuse changed is mind. He spent all morning slumped in bed, drinking the left-over beer he’d hide under the bed or the cold pizza from your night-stand. Whenever you passed the room…

It stunk.

Cigarettes, booze, filth.

The urge to kick him out was huge, yet you knew his strength and anger. He wouldn’t leave so easily.

That left it to present time as he finally exited the bedroom after all day without hearing you knock nor call his name. It was funny. He was so used to being babied and loved that when he all disappeared, he’d come out in a huff.

“Why won’t you fuckin’ talk to me?” Trevor stood at the doorway of your kitchen. He watched as you attempted to ignore him by washing the dishes.

A glass almost fell as you were startled at the sound of his voice. You caught it, placed it aside, hesitantly turning round. You were surprised to see him in a change of clothes – still dirty – typical behaviour.

“What’s wrong with you, eh? Why you been moping around for?” He’d grumble again, walking closer.

“I thought you wanted to be alone.” You bluntly said in a cold, stern voice.

Trevor flinched at the audacity you apparently had. He tilted his head and stared intensely into your eyes, inspecting a lie.

“When did I fuckin’ say that?”

“You made it clear this morning.”

He scoffed with disbelief, “Seriously? You’re so sensitive.”

And you’d giggle at how wrong he was. You shook your head and pointed a finger at yourself.

“Oh, I’m not sensitive. I wasn’t pissed until you accused me of distracting your way of life. You called me ungrateful! I’ve been nothing but supportive and you know damn well.”

“Oh, for fucks sake…” Trevor rubbed his face, “So you’re pissed off ‘cause I’m being honest.”

“Honest? What about that is honest? You can run around smoking meth, yeah, yeah. You know what?”

“What?” He snapped back, his fists clenching.

“I preferred when you were high on meth. At least then, you were more fucking bearable to make love with, to spend time with, to talk to. You weren’t so fucking grumpy or an asshole! I don’t care if you weren’t ‘yourself’ or whatever. At least when you were high, you were the man I once loved!”

Your words had left him frozen. Trevor stared at you, mouth left open. He left the silence undisturbed, clearly lacking an argument considering you just poured your heart out.

“I know it’s a bad thing to confess but I can’t help it, Trevor. Whenever you are sober, you just… Hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” He tried to act angry still, but you could tell he was losing his ability to keep up that grumpy exterior.

“What’s the big deal then? Why am I such a bother? Why am I a sudden burden to your business? All I ever ask is to spend time.” You held your breath in case of a waterfall, feeling your eyes get glassier.

Trevor stuttered but responded with nothing. He looked down at his feet, his scowl turning into an irritated, sorrowful frown.

“You know I love you, so much. But I’m not going to make an effort if you aren’t going to accept it.” You finally said.

“Stop, don’t say that.”

“It has to be said.”

“[y/n], c’mon…” He whispered, “I swear… I swear to God, I don’t mean it. You’re overthinking, why don’t you come back to the bed with me – “

“So what? We can make up by fucking? I do love our time together intimately, but I’m not asking for it. I’m asking for an apology. Words, Trevor. I need your words of affirmation.”

“I…”

The silence between you both was extremely uncomfortable. You swore that if he wouldn’t speak in the next 60 seconds, you’d call it over. You wanted honesty and assurance. Right now? He wasn’t giving you it.

“Listen, baby, you gotta understand…” Trevor murmured, “I’m sorry. I am, okay? I know, I’m a fuckin’ asshole. I don’t like being sober, I got a headache, I feel guilty. Yeah, yeah. You got me. I feel guilty, okay? You happy? I’m fuckin’ guilty as charged.”

“Trevor, why do you act – “

“I don’t know why I act like such a cunt when sober! I’m so fuckin’ used to being high that when I ain’t got that speed in me, I have no fuckin’ energy. I love you, [y/n], fuck. How many times do I have to say it? I love you too much, it hurts. I want to spend time with you but, I swear to fuck, I just gotta recharge. I know I’ll end up saying something so goddamn stupid ‘cause I’m a fuckin’ baby. I’m so worthless, I hate myself!” You watched him chant out self-oppressed insults that aimed at his insecurities. You watched him defeat himself, beating himself down. You sighed when he protested many times that he hated everything about him.

“Trevor…” You attempted to calm him by offering a hug which he accepted within a heartbeat.

He broke down crying. Maybe his background of being accused as a burden, a problem, a mistake – it made him super sensitive when it came to apologising, which is why he never did. However, this one time, he showed why. Trevor sobbed against your chest, begging for his mother, begging for you to forgive him (unlike his mother did).

“C’mon,” You whispered and caressed his back, “Deep breaths.”

“I’m sorry! – “

“I love you, very much. Deep breaths, baby. C’mon.”

He panted with tear stains streaming down his cheeks, “I don’t deserve you!”

“Trevor,” You held his cheeks, “I love you. Come on, hug me. You love our hugs, don’t you?”

“They are the best…” He nodded, embraced in your arms.

“That’s right. They are the best hugs ever. I wouldn’t want to hug anyone but you, you know that?”

“No…”

“C’mon, you know that!” You’d giggle and lightened the situation.

Trevor grinned slightly when you teased him. He hid his face in your shoulder to avoid embarrassment.

“Where you going?” You smiled down at him.

“Don’t be mad at me anymore.” Whispered the broken man in your arms.

“I’m not mad anymore. I just want you to be happy, yeah? You’re a beautiful man. We all have our flaws.”

“You don’t know me…” He muttered with a hidden smile.

“I know you more than you know yourself, boy. Now… Why don’t we go rest?”

Trevor didn’t say anything but dragged you down the hallway. You sighed, he hasn’t lost his sense of neediness, that’s for sure.

“Let’s go.” You softly said, smiling.

“Do you really prefer when I’m high?” He’d mention as you both entered the room.

“I prefer when you seem energetic and happy, Trev. I love when you smile and jump around.”

“Do you want me to smoke met – “

“NO!”

[giselle-archive]

booze cruise 🚢

closed starter: @limalatina & @wmu-giselle date: march 23rd, 2024

Giselle hadn't woken up with plans for her final full day in paradise, but she knew she'd wanted to explore a little bit more, maybe snap a few more pictures, and at least try to be sober for half of the day at most. She'd barely ventured too far from the bungalows when she bumped right into her ex, and although slightly awkward at first, they'd agreed that the chance encounter was the perfect time for them to go and thank Mariana for the painting. By the grace of lesbian Jesus, they managed to put all of their drama aside for the time being and the trip to visit Mariana turned out to be enjoyable. All of Mariana's paintings were beautiful, and she'd even ended up purchasing two more to go along with the one Santana had gotten her. She'd found herself attempting to decipher what Santana and Mariana were saying as they spoke, picking up on a few words here and there but not quite piecing together what exactly they were talking about. Giselle made a mental note to ask Santana about it later, though she was positive the Latina wasn't going to tell her or would make something up, but she'd try it anyways.

The rest of the day went just as smoothly, for some odd reason. Since they hadn't spent any time together the entire trip, they had mutually agreed to keep up the momentum. It was a plus for her since Santana could translate everything, so she let the brunette lead the way as they did some sightseeing on Isla Holbox, grabbed lunch, and even did some more shopping before they'd headed back to the hut. Soon after arriving back, Giselle had been instructed to get appropriately dressed for dinner and to grab a sweater, and while she had an abundance of questions, she decided not to fight it as she quickly freshened up and changed into the thin strapped, low cut, little black dress that she'd packed in case of a certain emergency, and this fit the bill. She'd made time to touch up her make up and her hair before she was slipping on a pair of red heels and following Santana out. As usual, she asked a plethora of questions as she was led to whatever her ex had planned, and her jaw dropped once they arrived at a boat, which was apparently where they'd be having dinner for the night.

"After what you said the other day, I wouldn't have expected you to do all this just for me." Giselle stated once they were settled on the boat. After their little run in days ago, she'd spent the time since processing all of her feelings, attempting to get her head and her heart on the same page, and although she felt like she was there, it didn't settle her nerves much. But she couldn't keep putting it off, that much she was aware of, so she figured they should at least try to get...further than they were now. "Before I start drinking, I do want you to know that I did actually listen to everything you said then too. I have been pushing you away, but not because I don't love you or want to be with you. While you were in therapy working on yourself, I spent the past three years detaching from everything about us, and you, because it hurt less that way. Reopening that door scares the hell out of me, and I've been fighting it since I got back to Lima, but I know that's not fair to you. I also know that we're not going to fix all of our issues in one night, but we can start tonight, if you want to."

[olderthannetfic]

I did not know that about port wine! Huh, learned a thing today

TBH, a hell of a lot of alcohol is named after places or other things that might not exist in a secondary world (or alternate history if it split long enough ago).

Port is named after Portugal, where it's from.

Just looking at other fortified wines... sherry (Jerez), madeira, marsala, and commandaria are all named after places.

'Vermouth', on the other hand, comes from a word for wormwood, which used to be one of the common flavoring agents. (Which I still wouldn't necessarily use in a secondary world setting given how specific a fortified, aromatized wine named after wormwood is.)

Shittons of liqueurs have highly specific names, like Chartreuse (made by Carthusian monks) or Bénédictine (supposedly made by Benedictine monks, but that was actually a marketing ploy).

Old world wines are pretty much all named after locations: Bordeaux, Champagne.

New world wines are usually named by grape varietal: Cabernet, merlot. Merlot is apparently named after a blackbird if you look up the etymology, though with the bajillionty wine varietals in the world, I'd expect a secondary fantasy setting to have its own names even aside from the place name issue.

Very few booze names are safe once you get outside of general classes like "wine".

Of course, at some point, you have to just accept that tons of regular words have etymologies that don't work in a secondary world setting and pick your battles, but for drinks, I'd probably just make a bunch of shit up if I were establishing some alternate world.