#here have this as a peace offering to make up for the absolute chaos that ensued on my blog

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 1

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 11.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Just absolute fluff. We're starting strong with a chapter full of flirting. Summary: In the first few weeks working in the kitchen of a cruise ship supper club, Zach has developed a crush on the club's jazz singer. Notes: Welcome darlings! We're so excited to welcome Zach Wellison and Shane 'Dio' Morrissey to the soulmate universe!

There’s a peace that come with the early morning hours. The darkness is only cut by the lights from the interior of the ship. The sound of the water and waves are all Zach can hear from where he is standing against the rails, looking down at the faint waves as they rush by the hull of the cruise liner.

It’s been a long hard road to where he is right now. Clawing his way up from depression, despair and anger. Slowly starting to believe that he deserves to be happy, deserves to do more than sleep on the ground and cart everything he owns in a backpack and be on guard with a pipe in his hand.

Now he has a room – although he had a roommate – with a bunk that is all his own. A small, but growing, collection of personal items plus a bank account that has more than a few dollars in it. It has made him think about other things. Like the mark that he wears, the link between him and the soulmate that happens to be out there somewhere in the vastness of the ocean that would be between them.

******

"Behind! Hot!" The calls come frequently and loudly enough to count as orders these days, the chaos of the kitchen being calmer than the battlefield but sometimes not by much. Today there is extra incentive to be on top of their game because of some VIP reservation, but Zach is able to focus on his task. All of his focus goes to the job at hand, because it isn't the customers he's cooking for this afternoon, but his coworkers.

Since getting a second chance at life after hitting rock bottom, Zach has worked his ass off. He still is the live-in maintenance manager for the little apartment building he lives in, but he has found that working in a kitchen was where he was truly happy. Taking a job that had at first been about having that extra cushion and security, then had developed into the passion that made him eager to rush into the chaotic kitchen where he seemed to thrive under pressure. It was almost cathartic, to be able to work through stress, although this stress doesn’t involve someone shooting at him.

"You good, Wellison?" His boss is across the kitchen accepting a shipment, and the answer is pretty much always yes, but he still checks in.

“Yep.” Zach narrows his eyes as he continues to whip the cream to the perfect consistence before folding it into the broth. “Good as gold.”

"Heard." He knew the answer but he's still glad to hear it. It means he's able to sign off on this delivery and shake the hand of the other man standing outside with a smirk on his face. "You're lurking, dude," he laughs, moving past the back door to greet his brother.

“Just making the most of my short time off.” Chuckling, and relieved to be back on land, he pulls his brother in a crushing hug. “Smells great in here.” He huffs. “Must not be your recipe.”

"Har har." Rolling his eyes, the chef waves off the jibe. "How long are you on leave?"

“Two days.” Snorting, he shakes his head. “I have to interview a bunch of knuckleheads to try to find someone to fit the vibe of my new dinner club.”

"That's the jazz thing, right? Rat Pack Vegas vibes?" As long as they're outside, he'll take the chance to smoke a cigarette. It's murder on the taste buds but so fucking necessary for getting through the day. "You have a menu yet?"

“Not yet.” Running a new concept on a cruise liner is hard. “They gave complete control to us since this is the first if it’s kind.”

The older brother snorts. "They handed you a restaurant and you have two days to hire staff to cook a menu you haven't written yet? Cruise ships make no sense to me."

“Yeah, you’re telling me.” He laughs. “I’m think something family style, but with a twist?” He offers, knowing his brother would understand. “Maybe timeless classics? Old style American?”

"Like supper club style?" A drag off of his cigarette is time to think, and he nods. "Pluck a place right out of the 60s and stick it in the middle of the ocean. Oysters Rockefeller, steak Diane...French sauces and strong drinks?"

“Very strong drinks.” He grins. “Our cocktails will only be available in the club.”

"Sounds like a place Dad would have loved." Both brothers laugh at that. They had followed their father's footsteps into culinary work and never looked back. So why stop at just the profession?

“Smoked gin and tonics for the win.” He steals the cigarette from his brother and takes a drag, groaning in pleasure. He doesn’t have time to smoke most days, so he’s pretty much quit, but there’s something about a good puff on a cigarette that touches his soul.

"You wanna come in?" With his little brother off on a cruise ship serving from a floating kitchen every single day for years, they don't get to see each other much. "Family meal's almost ready. Hang out a while."

“Sure.” He had been to many family dinners at his father’s restaurant and enjoys them. “Thanks.”

The smell only intensifies when they go back inside, and it becomes clear that this particular family meal is more like a family feast. A hotel pan of Monterey Chicken made with the odds and ends of slab bacon and Monterey cheese blocks smothered in the end of a batch of scratch barbecue sauce looks like a masterpiece, and the scraps of vegetables that have become a medley rather than ending up in a stock pot are beautifully roasted. The cook who went after this feast has even made rolls studded with the stems of fresh herbs, and the entire staff are salivating over the offering.

“I’m impressed.” Looking at the meal that is laid out, it looks like something that would be prepared for a special event rather than the family style dinner that had become such a tradition when their father had been alive and running his restaurant. “You’ve stepped up your game from the meals we ended up making.”

“By outsourcing,” the older of the two brothers admit with a laugh. “Zach, come here a second.”

Zach might be annoyed by the interruption, but no one would ever know it. He finishes wiping the rim of a four inch pan and quickly strips off his gloves, wiping his hands as he turns around. “Sure thing, chef.” He notices a man standing beside him and nods. “What’s up?”

“I want you to meet somebody.” His chef explains, gesturing to the look-alike younger man beside him. “My brother Sam. He’s—” It will be such a loss if Zach decides to go that he almost doesn’t want to do it, but the kid deserves something good after the hell he’s been through. “He’s got a new place opening that I think you might like the sound of.”

“Oh yeah?” His brows lift and for a split second, he wonders if his work has been lacking and his boss is trying to get rid of him. But Toby isn’t like that, so he looks over at the other man. “A place like here?” He asks.

"A little different." Sam leans against the nearest wall with one shoulder. Hands in his pockets, he surveys the man in front of him with interest. "Supper club on a cruise ship. We're doing old school Vegas all over the ship so the vibe is classic dishes revamped. It's an experimental sort of thing where we'll have entertainment during service. But the fun part is that we pretty much have free reign on the menu as long as we work within our genre."

“A ship?” Zach has been on a ship before. When he was in the Marines, he was assigned as the Marine detachment to a battle group for six months. It was the best sleep he had ever had. “A supper club?” He hums. “That sounds like a challenge, a fun one. Live entertainment? What kind?”

"A four-piece band and a singer. The intention is to evoke the Rat Pack days on the Vegas strip, so the band will do jazz standards and jazz covers of contemporary songs. There's that..." Sam struggles for a moment, trying to remember the name of the band. "Is it...Postmodern Jukebox? That style." He can tell the kid – alright, he’s not a kid but he's definitely younger than Sam is – is interested so he nudges a little. "It would be six months on the Mediterranean for the maiden voyage. Living and working and everything else on the ship with occasional trips ashore. Sound like an adventure you might be interested in?"

His eyes shift towards Toby to see what his boss thinks about all this, but all he sees is that his boss is smiling and nodding along as if it sounds like a great idea. “I loved being on ship in the Marines.” He admits, more willing to talk about his service now that he had when he first started. There were a couple of vets in the kitchen with him and they had bonded over hard work that was still better than being shot at. “You need a prep cook? Something like that?”

"Actually?" Sam is feeling nearly fucking victorious about this little introduction, but he tries not to show it too much. Not yet, anyway. "I'm going to be executive chef of two restaurants on the ship, so I'm going to need a hell of a Chef de Cuisine to run this club for me. Think you might be up to it?"

Zach nearly chokes in surprise, sure that this is some kind of joke. “Just like that?” He asks, looking between the brothers.

"I wouldn't have even mentioned you if I didn't think you could do it." His boss promises. "It would be a hell of an opportunity for you." It's good experience for his resume, and it's a chance to save money. Toby won't mention it out loud in the middle of the kitchen but he knows that will be good for Zach.

"And I'll take my brother's recommendation over anything else." Sam nods. "I've got some interviews to do for the rest of the kitchen staff. If you want to be a part of this process, we'll sit down to family meal and then we'll get out of here. Work on a menu before we start those interviews."

There’s almost a surreal feel to this entire moment. As if he’s dreaming because opportunities like this don’t just fall into people’s laps for real. That’s for the movies. He takes a moment and nods. “Yeah- yes.” He corrects himself. “I would love that, When would I expected to be on ship?” He asks. “I’m - I have another job as a live in maintenance guy for my building.” He explains. “Would want to give them as much notice as possible.”

"I've got two days before I have to be back." Sam tells him, but laughs and waves one hand when Zach looks gobsmacked. "I have to finish out another contract. We've got a month before we've got to be onboard for this one. So you'd have plenty of time to give notice and we'll have time to work on our menu. I just have to get these interviews done while I'm on dry land."

Again, Zach looks towards Toby. “I don’t want to leave you shorthanded the next couple of days….” He tells his boss. “Do you want me to see if I can find someone?”

Toby shakes his head though, seeing how badly Zach wants this thing he never even knew he could have before. "I'll call my guy at the CIA and see if he can send me a student for a few days. I'll move one of the prep cooks up to your line position while you get this done." He pats the younger man on the shoulder twice – his standard display of affection – and smiles. "This is gonna be good for you, man. And if you decide it's not your thing and you wanna be back on land after giving it a try, you just come on back."

There’s a feeling of security in being assured that he would be welcomed back. “Okay.” He agrees, looking over at Sam. “I’ll do it.”

"Fantastic." Sam puts out his hand and they shake, sealing the deal with enthusiasm. "Let's go eat. If your food is half as good as it smells, this club is going to be packed."

******

Even though the quiet of the night is soothing, it’s been a long day. Eventually Zach heads inside and takes the elevator down to the lower levels where the crew quarters are located. Knocking on his door twice before opening so he doesn’t see anything he doesn’t want to from his roommate.

"Hey man." Shane is on his bunk, phone still in hand, though his relaxed posture says that he's just finished this nightly phone call rather than been interrupted.

“Hey.” He moves over to his clothes cabinet and starts to immediately remove his toiletry kit. He needs a shower before he can crawl into the sheets. A far cry from when he didn’t know when he would be clean.

"Diana says hi." The other man waggles his phone in the air. Even though his bunkmate and his soulmate have never met, she's a fairly gregarious extrovert who can make friends even second hand – so she always sends her greetings along with every phone call if Zach isn't in the room to respond at the time.

“How’s she doing?” He smiles to himself, grateful that his roommate has been an easy friend and his soulmate even friendlier. “I know she’s counting down the days.”

“She started counting the second we left New York.” Shane had a certain amount of very real pride in his relationship with his soulmate. It’s the healthiest thing in his life without a doubt, and that’s a life that hasn’t had too many healthy things. “No surprise she’s been working doubles while we’re out here. It’s not like there’s a single Emergency Department in New York City that doesn’t need extra doctor all the fuckin time.”

“That’s the truth.” Zach snorts and closes his locker. “You need in the bathroom? I want to jump in the shower.”

“Nah, go ahead.” The older of the two men shakes his head. “I’ll take a cold one in the morning and wake myself up. Got some new material to rehearse.”

“It sounded good from the kitchen.” Even with the heavy din of clashing pots and clinking plates, the sounds of the band can be heard when the wait staff flow in and out of the kitchen.

“Thanks, man.” Shane stretches, groaning slightly and privately cursing crossing the age of thirty. Everything has hurt since. “We’ve got some new numbers and transitions and things to work out, but it’s coming along.”

“That’s great. Let me know if we need to tweak the menu for the new set.” Zach tells him. He’s already swiped some shorts and he heads into their shared shower.

Shane will tell him later, but he’d sooner pull teeth than change the menu at the club on ship where they both work. His bunkmate is a hell of a cook to the point where the band’s singer is obsessed with nearly everything that comes out of that kitchen. He can’t blame her. That’s the kind of food he used to dream about it the chow line when he was locked up.

The bathroom is tiny but efficiently set up. Serving the needs of both men without wasting space and the best part was that there was unlimited hot water coming through the pipes. Zach turns on the water and stares at his reflection. He’s tired, but at the same time, he’s been having a great time.

There is never a shortage of things to do on the ship, mostly because the staff party hard in their downtime. Most of the staff work multiple positions so they’re constantly busy. It makes that downtime they have both precious and very necessary. In the two weeks since they came on board there have been parties every night. It’s a lot, but it’s also a lot of fun.

As quick as he jumps in, he’s jumping out and opening the door to vent the steam. “Are we drinking tonight?” He calls out, wondering if his roommate was tired or if he’s gotten his second wind.

“You wanna go?” Shane calls back, and Zach can hear movement from the other room. “Wouldn’t take much to talk me into it.”

“I could use a beer or three.” Zach admits. He’s careful not to over indulge and develop a habit, but he actually likes socializing with the rest of the crew.

“Club’s empty.” Shane suggests. He’s hopped to his feet and thrown his boots back on, and is now inspecting his eyeliner Ina small wall mirror when Zach comes back in the room. “I’ll see if anybody wants to meet us there.”

“The bar would be easy to access.” All of the terminals are set up to become the crew bar for the night.” Zach tells him. “But you are not going to play.” He warns. “Just let someone use their playlist.”

“But what if I want to play?” Shane poses, waggling his eyebrows in challenge. “Musicians are impossible to stop, man. We just go and go.”

“Good for you, I guess.” Zach snorts, rolling his eyes playfully. “I just figured you would want to set me up with another girl.”

“Oh, I absolutely do.” This bunkmates claps him on the shoulder with a smirk after he’s shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Ready to go?”

“Sure thing.” His latest obsession is with a new cologne that Toby’s wife had given him as a birthday present - early - before he left, so he adds that to the pulse points and hums when he rakes his fingers through his hair. “Now we can go. I smell good.”

“Now we can go.” Shane teases, but play-shoves Zach out of their little cabin and toward the stairs without hesitation. For all the bullshit he put himself and the people around him through as a kid and as a young man, ever since he got released he’s made the active decision to try to be a better influence. More positive. For himself and for the people around him. Sure he slips up here and there, but he’s only human. What matters is that he tries.

Shane Morrissey is a good man, upfront and honest. He had told Zach that he wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t want to bunk with a former felon, Zach had relearned to judge a man by the weight of their character now instead of the mistakes of their past. He knows all too well what happens when you are too harshly judged and looked down on. It had actually be a perfect situation since Zach didn’t feel the need to hide his own past and had not seen the pity or judgement that might come from others. “I need a beer and like- three shots man.” Zach groans as they trail down the hallway towards the elevators.

“And someone to flirt with.” Shane insists, still steering the way. Truthfully, Zach needs to get laid just to fucking relax a little but both men know it’s not always that easy.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve flirted?” Zach snorts, shoulder checking his friend. “I would embarrass both of us.”

“All the more reason to get back in the fucking saddle,” Shane points out. He jams his finger into the call button for the elevator and leans against the wall to wait. “If I kind find my soulmate in a fucking ER bay, you can flirt with drunk coworkers. I believe in you, man.”

He chuckles at the confidence the pianist has in him. “Keep it up.” He teases. “I’ll think you’re in love with me.”

Playfully, fraternal, Shane rolls his eyes when the elevator to his right dings and slides open to admit them. “Get in the damn elevator, kid,” he gripes to the man barely two years younger than him.

“Sure thing, daddy.” Zach bites his lip playfully, completely enjoying the way Shane turns beet red at the mention of that nickname. He had accidentally heard that part of a conversation when he had come into his cabin without knocking the second day on the ship.

“Shut the fuck up.” Shane mumbles, now jamming his finger into the button to select their deck. “Diana likes it. You think I’m gonna tell a woman that smoking hot who wears all my stupid ass scars no?” He likes it too, it’s just not easy to admit. It’s not easy to bare even the smallest parts of himself sometimes.

“I’m just teasing.” Zach reaches out and pats the other man’s shoulder. “I only wish I had a fraction of what you and Diana have. I’m fucking jealous. And if my soulmate is half as pretty, she could call me daddy any time she wanted.” He adds with a snort.

“You’ll find her.” The vote of confidence Shane has in the other man really comes from just knowing that life works in weird fucking ways most of the time. But instead of getting philosophical, he elbows the former Marine. “Maybe one of those room keys you get slipped every fuckin day will be the one.”

“Shiiiiiiiit.” It’s the craziest thing that he’s ever seen in his life. He would have never expected to have passengers slip him a room key and ask him to join them before. Some are older, obvious cougars on the prowl, but a few of them have been his age and he’s been tempted, but he couldn’t risk his contract, his job.

“We get them too, the band, but not the sheer fucking quantity you do, man.” The elevator jolts to a less than smooth stop and Shane grins. “Excellent.”

“Someone needs to look at that.” Zach huffs as he steps off the crew elevator. “I think they expect me to cook for them in the room or something.”

“Some of them, probably.” The two men make their way along the hallway with purpose. “But there’s worse things in life than getting fucked and making somebody breakfast after.”

“You aren’t wrong.” Zach snorts. He’s never been a very casual person when it comes to sex, but he’s had some flings. “Maybe I will.”

“If there ever comes a night that you don’t make it back to the room, I’ll celebrate for you.”

“Thanks.” The entrance to the club is a large circle, the double doors exactly half of each side and the brass handles are trumpets. Immediately making Zach relax as he knows the inside of this place better than anywhere else on the ship.

The inside has been decorated with a combination of plush-looking fabrics in rich colors and art that invokes the best sixties nostalgia, with just a dash of Sam’s native New Orleans to top the whole thing off. It feels welcoming and luxurious for guests, but those same open arms are here to embrace the staff as well.

“Anybody here yet?” Shane calls from the threshold, seeing as the lights are already on.

Zach doesn’t spend much time in the actual lounge, he’s too busy back in the kitchens making sure each plate is perfect before it’s sent out to the passengers. It’s still new, but so far, every seat in the house has been booked and the reviews have been raving.

"Shane!" Two of the other members of the band have made it there first, and they appear from around the corner with drinks already in hand. "Zach! Hey man, what a fucking day."

“It was pretty busy.” He admits with a grin. The band often plays out on the main deck for the passengers lounging around the pool, even though the space is covered, it’s hot out there. “I swear the breakfast buffet never stops sometimes.”

“Never.” The band’s bassist, Rick, shakes his head as he reaches over to pat Zach’s shoulder. “How you been, man? We don’t get to see you much in that kitchen.”

“Busy.” He chuckles. “Gotta put them in a good mood with the food so you can croon to them and make them feel like they are in a jazz club just for them.”

“You don’t want me doing any of the crooning.” Rick jokes. “That wouldn’t put anybody in a good mood.”

“It’s true.” Shane agrees, coming up behind them both. “Come on, we need drinks.”

“Yes we do.” Zach nods. “Especially after today!” He had nearly half of the supper club wanting the special so he had been busy.

"You have to bring that special back." Shane insists, making his way over to grab beers for himself and his bunkmate. "I think our singer was drunk on the smell. That's like all she talked about between sets, was how good it smelled."

“Did she get one of the plates?” Zach always makes some extra plates for the crew and the band, wanting them to be able to know the menus as well as they can.

"Nope." Rick shakes his head and takes a swig from his own beer. "Gave hers up to a waitress who had had a shitty table. I think that's why she was so fixated."

“Man, that sucks.” Zach has only caught glimpses of the headliner, often too busy to really introduce himself - it’s not because she’s insanely beautiful and he’s developed a bit of a crush just from the way she seems to sing to him, but he would want her to have some. “I’ll have to make sure she gets a plate next time.”

"You should hand deliver it." Shane waggles his eyebrows. "For bonus points."

“No way man.” Zach scoffs. “There’s absolutely no way she’d be interested in me.”

"Who?" The band's drummer, and Rick's bunkmate, Keo, emerges from the kitchen with his own drink already in hand, looking a shade guilty. Like the bottomless pit he is, the youngest member of the band has probably been rooting around for unmarked things to snack on.

Zach chuckles and shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t tell me I need to do a club snack for us?” He teases.

Keo and Shane's faces light up, like this is a possibility they had never considered and now it's the thing they want most in the entire world. It's Shane, though, who pulls the trigger. "But what would you make?" He asks, already knowing his bunkmate can't resist that sort of challenge.

Zach knows the galley pantry like the back of his hand and what he has left over from the meal tonight. “Prime rib croquettes with creamy horseradish sauce and tempura Tiger prawns with Thai chili sauce.” He decides.

"Duuuuuude." Keo groans, wide-eyed and sounding like someone just taunted him with the greatest richest in some magical kingdom. "You can't just say things like that, man!"

Zach snorts and claps him on the shoulder. “Tell you what, you go get me a drink and I’ll fire up the cookers so we can drink and eat.”

"The hero of the hour!" Another voice from the doorway proclaims, only having heard the words 'drink and eat' come from someone they recognize as kitchen staff. This won't be a large party but it will be a party, and a few more people spill through the door in turn.

"I'll make you something good, man." Keo promises. Musicians who were bartenders in previous jobs are not rare but they are good to have around, and Keo was a hell of a bartender.

“I’ll hold you to it!” He has free range over his space and there are a few more ideas that he can try out tonight and use the crew as his test dummies. They never hold back their opinions on the food and he loves that, always striving to make it better.

The large handful of people who flood into the space ends up totaling more than a dozen within just a few minutes of Zach disappearing into the kitchen, but the last one through the door is finally dressed down after a day of performing and being on for passengers.

Jeans and a sweatshirt. That’s all it is for you after dark, though you would stay dressed up if you had someone to impress. When it’s just Shane and the boys, though? They can stand to see you without full hair and makeup.

Shouts of your name ring out because the music hasn’t started yet, Zach hearing it from the kitchen. He perks up slightly and hates how he feels his pulse picks up knowing you are here.

"That's a hell of a welcome," you tease, gratefully accepting a cocktail when it's pressed into your hand and doling out hugs to your bandmates. These guys have become your family in just a few short months, so much so that taking this adventure on the ship together seemed like a no-brainer. Each of you had things that had brought you into New York City but few of you have any ties to bring you back there, which makes this floating madhouse all the more fun.

The ship was the best decision you could have made, in a lot of ways. There is a camaraderie here that you couldn't have anticipated and it soothes you in equally unexpected ways. While you love spending your regular time with the guys in the band, you've found a friend in your bunkmate as well, which is great when River is just as excited to do to these staff parties as you are.

In the kitchen, the fryers are heating up and Zach works quickly to whip up a tempura batter. The fried prawns won’t take but a minute, but while it's resting, he's mixing up the shredded prime rib with some leftover fresh breadcrumbs and making meatball sized bites to stuff with cheese. Coated in panko, it will be a delicious little appetizer and something that he had been thinking about adding to the dinner menu one night.

The party is starting to kick up in the club. He can hear music start to play and people chattering over each other while he works. The atmosphere is laid back enough and it’s not too late at night that they can be assured of a few hours of uninterrupted revelry — just the way everyone likes it.

The music starts to filter back into the kitchen, making Zach wish that they had installed speakers, but he can hear the music every time the door swings open. He hears the door behind him, and he calls outs, “where’s my drink!”

“It’s right here.” The door thwaps shut behind you and you juggle the glass in your hand so the ice rattles. “But you have to be nice or I’ll drink it myself.”

“Oh!” He hadn’t been expecting that voice, whirling around to find you, the girl that he’s been crushing on the smokey smooth vocals being performed every night, standing on the other side of the stainless counter with his drink in your hand. “I— uh, I thought you were Shane.” He flusters, feeling his cheeks heat up as you smirk at him.

“Not last time I checked.” In fact, that little shit had been teasing you mercilessly lately about the crush you’ve developed on the hot chef at the club and specifically shoved you through the door with his drink just to bust you up about it. “It’s Zach, right?” As if you don’t already know. As if you hadn’t found out his name right away.

“Yeah— uh, that’s – that’s me.” The fact that he’s stumbling over his words makes him want to kick Shane’s ass, as well as his own. He used to be able to talk to pretty women with confidence. He says your name easily. “Of course I know the voice I hear every night.”

“Should I apologize?” You ask, mostly rhetorically, and set his glass down on the counter between you. “If you can identify it already, you’ll be sick of hearing me before too long.”

“Not at all.” Zach snorts. “Sometimes your song sets are what power the kitchen through the night.” He tells you. “I wish I had them put speakers in here.”

“Really?” The tips of your ears are immediately on fire and you try not to look too pleased at that, imagining him in here listening to you sing whenever the doors open and close. That answers your silent wondering if he had ever cared to listen. “Do you…have a favorite? Something I can put into the set on busy nights for you, maybe?”

“Crazy.” Zach immediately says, before he coughs and turns back around to his mixing bowl to continue to roll out the snacks. “It’s unique and I swear the first time I thought it was a recording of Patsy Cline, but then you changed the words.”

“I thought the last verse deserved a little hope,” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat to match your ears. “A song about broken love and broken trust can be beautiful, sure. But life without hope is just too sad for me.”

“That’s why I love it.” Zach admits, glancing over his shoulder at you and then back down at what he’s doing. “I heard you sing it from the depths of your soul.”

With your glass halfway to your lips, you can only pause and hope you don't look nearly as flustered as you actually are. "It's for you, then." You tell him, wondering what the hell has gotten into you. "Anytime you hear it. It's for you."

Zach is so damn grateful that his back is turned so you can’t see the way he flushes hot. “There’s been some times I’ve needed something to cling to, and that song….it reminds me of that. Beautiful melancholy.”

"Same." Gently, deliberately, you slide up to the counter to lean your elbows on the stainless steel. "I don't know what you're doing in here but everything you make smells so fucking good."

He chuckles, preening slightly and his shoulders straighten slightly. “You should have sent word you needed another plate.” He looks back at you again. “I would have made sure you got a new one.”

"I didn't know I could call in special privileges." Sure, you're teasing. But his cheeks have pinked in the most adorable way and maybe just maybe you won't murder Shane for shoving you through the kitchen door after all. "Giving me that power might be dangerous."

He laughs as he drops the first round of croquettes into the fryer. “Yeah?” He turns around and smirks slightly. “You would abuse the power?”

"Constantly." There is an accidental groan in your voice, but it's honest so you just shrug it off. "I swear that chicken thing you did last week with the herby butter inside it? Best thing I've ever had in my life. Hands down."

“I bet I can change your mind on that tonight.” He lifts the basket out of the grease and shakes the cooking food slightly and checks the color. The cheese will melt and become a wonderful gooey surprise in the center. The only thing that would make it better is if he had horseradish cheese. Maybe next time he will grate the cheese and mix it with horseradish for the desired bite. But for tonight, the cream sauce will be a good substitute.

"Oh yeah?" A man who cooks for you is already your favorite man at any given time. That's probably where this little crush came from originally, but it has clung on over the first few weeks on board instead of shaking off like it usually does. Like glitter holding onto your hair with every ounce of determination, this crush is making you giggly and flirty like you're in high school all over again. "What are these?"

Zach waves you behind the counter as he pulls up the fryer basket again. “Prime Rib Croquettes.” He tells you. “Shredded prime rib meatballs basically, stuffed with white cheddar, breaded and fried.” He grabs two of the balls and drizzles the horseradish sauce on a plate before he lays them on it carefully and wipes the plate clean out of habit before turning and presenting it to you. “Tell me what you think. This is my first time playing with the idea.”

“So I’m your guinea pig?” Why that theory delights you so much, you’re not really sure, but you lean on the counter with a very serious expression. “Well they look beautiful. Let’s see if they’re as good as they look.” The little nuggets are bite sized and crispy, and when you pop the first one into your mouth the first thing that happens is the bone-rattling groan that rolls through you. The flavor is incredible and the outside crunches while the inside melts in your mouth — salty, unctuous, spicy, creamy, umami goodness making you close your eyes and hold onto the taste while you eat.

“That.” You still have your eyes closed but you point in the vicinity of the plate. “Is the best thing ever.”

You make the food sound sexual which makes Zach’s body react if a very primal way. Shifting slightly, he picks up another one from the basket and squirts the sauce directly on it. “Yeah?”

“Seriously.” You nod enthusiastically. “Eat one. You’re a genius.”

Zach pops it into his mouth and chews. Groaning while he’s analyzing the flavor profile and wondering if anything needs to be added. “Would you want a red wine au jus reduction dipping sauce if there was horseradish in the croquette or leave it as is?” He asks you seriously.

Laughing is probably a self-conscious reaction, but you look up at him with a slightly cringed expression. “I don’t have any idea what a red wine juice—whatever you just said,” you admit. “But I like wine and I like horseradish, and I like this, so probably.”

He chuckles quietly, nodding as he motions to the other one. “Well, when I put this on the menu as an appetizer, why don’t I offer both and see what you think?”

You have absolutely no shame in picking up the other fried nugget of delicious glory, and practically hold it up to him in salute. “I promise you a full report, and look forward to finding out whatever a red wine juice is.”

“Au jus.” He smiles as he watches you eat the next bite. “It’s French.” He explain. “It means ‘with juice’.”

No power in the world could stop you from finishing and thoroughly enjoying that second bite, but when you do you grin at him unrepentantly. “So I was right. It is red wine juice. Just fancy.”

“Fancy.” He chuckles. “It’s actually the drippings from the prime rib, reduced down with red wine until I make it the best tasting sauce you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

“Oh my god.” Even just explained, it sounds amazing, and you groan at the thought of it, though the sound turns to laughter after a second or two. “That sounds amazing. You can probably tell that I know nothing about cooking.”

“That’s okay.” He chuckles as he drops another round of the croquettes to fry and then turns towards the prawns. “I know plenty.”

Warmth curls in your belly, low and teasing and curious, and you suck a drop of the cream sauce off your thumb with a flashed grin under intentionally lowered lashes. “Is this where I suggest that you teach me?”

Zach watches you for a moment, wondering if you are flirting with him, because it feels like you are flirting with him. "Somehow I think that you wouldn't really want to learn how to cook." He teases.

"Fuck, that was awful, wasn't it?" You laugh, dropping your cheek over to one palm in a sort of sheepish expression of apology. "Unless you like cheesy flirting, in which case it was totally intentional and I'm owning it."

"Then you own it." Zach snorts, grinning at you happily as he waggles his brows. "I'm so out of practice flirting that all of it is cheesy."

"All flirting is cheesy anyway, that has nothing to do with being out of practice." As if to dispel any idea that it could be otherwise, you wave one hand and scoop up your drink with the other. "I am interested in learning to cook, for the record. But...call it a secondary interest."

"Okay." He nods and lifts a brow playfully. "Are we at burning water skill levels? Or can you at least feed yourself?" He asks. "What am I working with here?"

"I can follow reheat instructions, make macaroni and cheese from a box, and make a hell of a sandwich. But anything past that?" You shrug, but the whole thing stays playful and you flash him a grin. "I can proudly say I've never burnt water."

"Now I'm sure that I'm supposed to be horrified that you eat mac and cheese from a box...." Zach shrugs. "But that shit is good sometimes."

"You would be more horrified if you had seen my one attempt at making it from scratch," you promise him, though you're absolutely able to laugh at your past food follies. "Do you know that show Worst Cooks in America? I would be an excellent candidate."

"That bad?" He can't help but laugh, but you are grinning with him. He pulls the rest of the croquettes out of the hot oil and smirks as he starts to batter the fresh prawns in the airy batter and dropping them into the grease to start bubbling.

"I've got a lot to learn." He has the most fantastic laugh, and it rolls through you until your stomach flips all over again. "About cooking anyway. Not—not other stuff." Yeah...maybe you're out of practice too. That's okay, though. "So...what are those?"

“Uh.” Zach clears his throat as his thoughts when decidedly X-rated and he looks down at what he was doing off of muscle memory. “Tempura prawns.” He tells you. “Gonna toss them in a chili sauce.”

"Oh, come on." A delighted moan of anticipation slips from your lips but you don't care. "That sounds incredible."

“I thought it would make the best kind of party snack.” He admits. “And give me some feedback.”

"You were absolutely right." You promise him, watching as he moves around the corner of the kitchen with confidence and a graceful economy of movement. "I've never met anybody more consistently hungry than a bunch of musicians, and that's who is out there for the most part."

“Ha!” Zach snorts. “You’ve never met a bunch of marines.” He tells you as he rushes to get the chili sauce. It would be better to warm it up.

"No, can't say I have." Self-consciously, your fingers brush over your shoulder where the aged lines of a warrior's tattoo are forever marked in your skin. Thankfully Zach is looking away in that moment, and doesn't see the flicker of something longing and unknown in your eyes. "You served?"

“Yeah.” It’s taken him a long time to come back to being able to talk about his service even casually, but he doesn’t feel the need to be defensive with you. Despite being the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, he’s comfortable with you. He starts to warm up the sauce and finally picks up the drink you had brought him. “Six years.”

"I'm getting the sense that 'thank you for your service' is maybe not your favorite thing to hear?" He finally steps away from cooking to come back over to the counter you've been leaning on and for the first time you catch the little flecks of gold in his eyes.

“It’s okay.” He promises softly, wincing as he hopes he didn’t come off as angry like he used to. “It’s just- it didn’t end well.” He admits. “Still feel guilty sometimes.”

"Well..." This doesn't seem to be a very happy topic and we were flirting just a minute and a half ago, so you try to steer things back to a more upbeat direction if you can. You know all about making sacrifices for the thing you thought was right. It doesn't always leave the most positive feelings in its wake. "Hopefully now you're doing something that you love?"

“I love being in the kitchen.” Zach flashes you a grin as he looks up from stirring the sauce and moves back over to pull up the prawns. “It’s honestly soothing.”

"And you're amazing at it." Not that you mind watching, either. If you happen to catch the movement of his back muscles under his t-shirt every time he turns around to work on something? Well, that's just a fringe benefit for you.

“It’s about being able to execute and plan.” He tells you as he transfers the prawns into a bowl and reaches for the sauce pot. He drizzles the chili sauce over the fried seafood and starts to toss them in the bowl. “And adapt to overcome any obstacles that might arise.”

"Sounds like good organizational skills wrapped around a creative outlet." You observe, watching the deft, quick movements of his hands as he continues to work. If you maybe imagine other things those hands could be good for? Well, that's just for you. "Food is art, isn't it? I've always thought so, anyway."

“It absolutely is.” He agrees before he plucks a prawn out of the bowl and offers it to you. “Tell me what you think.”

If you were ten years younger you might have nipped that bite right out of his fingertips and let your tongue linger just to tease, but you’re both adults. You’re a little past the point of overt horniness with total strangers.

Probably.

So instead you take the offering from him with two careful fingers, and pop it in your mouth with the highest of expectations. Expectation which are immediately met, as one more heavenly groan escapes you and you positively giggle with glee.

“You like it.” He can tell and there’s just a drop of the warm chili sauce on your lip, right in the corner that makes Zach want to lick it off your lips.

“S’that obvious?” You grin, practically giggling through the end of the bite and licking up the drop of missed sauce along with it.

“I guess you’re hungry since you gave away your dinner.” He supposes. “So you have to make up for it now.”

Curiosity makes your head pop up again, and your forehead creases in question. “How did you know about that?”

“Shane told me.” He admits, reaching for another plate so he can fix you more before bringing out the food for everyone else. “Said you had been drooling over the smells but you didn’t get to eat.”

“That’s a very attractive picture of me that he’s painted,” you huff, almost rolling your eyes. Of course Shane gave you up. He’s been telling you to talk to Zach for ages now but you hadn’t had the guts.

He chuckles softly. “I took it as a compliment. Like half of my staff mooning over you instead of working when you start singing.”

“To be fair…” A smart ass grin curls up the corners of your mouth so that you don’t end up flustered With the compliment. Sarcasm is an old shield and good friend when it comes to flattery. For you at least. “That’s just a standard issue Sea Witch enchantment. Very susceptible to magic, your staff.”

“Sea Witch enchantment, huh?” He grins back at you. “You don’t look like I remember Ursula.” He teases. “And I loved The Little Mermaid when I was younger.”

“Makes sense.” That smirk of yours blossoms, ending up in a grin. “You’re a dead ringer for Prince Eric.”

“Me?” Zach shuffles, trying his hardest not to blush but he’s probably failing. “Hopefully I’m not as dumb as he was to not know the woman in front of his was his soulmate.”

“Neither of them had any scars,” you remind him, but the two of you seem locked in a trance for an unexpected moment before your smile widens and the fluttering in your chest deepens. “You’re cute when you blush.”

“Well, they were cartoons.” He snorts, flashing you another smile as he tries not to preen because you think he’s cute.

"So what would a scar for a cartoon character be, then?" The question makes both of you laugh and you shrug. "A tear in the page, I guess?"

“An interesting question.” He hums, picking up his drink and taking a sip of it as he watches you. Thinking that you look so young, so carefree in your relaxed clothes. He’s caught glimpses of you in your gorgeous gowns you wear on stage, but honestly prefers this look.

You laugh, shrugging it off, and don’t let yourself reflect too long on how silly you feel gazing at him across a damn stainless steel counter. “It’s a silly question. But thank you for humoring me.”

“Not silly.” He sets the food into two large pans and reaches for one of the serving carts. “Want to grab a stack of plates and we will go join the party with the food?”

“The least I can do is help if you’re going to feed us magic food.” The plates he points out are nearby, and you help him stack up the cart with everything that’s needed. It’s probably silly to feel like he trusts you by asking — you are right here, you’re the obvious and convenient person to ask — but somehow stacking plates and finding napkins and helping him make room for all of the containers of amazing food he’s made makes you feel…special. It’s silly, but you don’t want to banish the warm feeling in your chest anytime soon.

Zach is grateful you didn’t deliver his drink and just rush out. “Well, maybe everyone else will appreciate it, but you made it magic with your reaction.” Damn, maybe flirting isn’t as hard as he imagined it to be after so many years. Seems to come easy with you.

"I'm very glad you liked it." Maybe you do tend to be slightly pornographic with the sounds of enjoying food from time to time, but there's no reason to be embarrassed about that when you're literally flirting with a chef. In fact, maybe you should have been flirting with chefs all along.

He hums as he motions you towards the door to leave the kitchen first. “After you, madam.” He says playfully. “I will let you lead our procession.” It sounds gentlemanly, but he also gets the added bonus of watching your ass as you walk.

The second the kitchen door opens there is an explosion of sound, and honestly you had almost forgotten that there is a whole damn party going on out here. Keo has music playing but it’s only a matter of time before the band hits the stage again. It doesn’t matter that they just performed for passengers an hour ago. This time is for fun and for them.

“Time to eat!”

If there is one thing that Zach can count on, it’s that the crew will always swarm where there’s food. He grins at your wide eyes with everyone is instantly at the cart he rolled out and surrounding you.

You scurry out of the way with a loud, barked laugh, and practically hurtle yourself into the corner so everybody else can get their plates. You’ve had some already, served especially by the chef, and want everyone else to try the incredible bites that Zach made.

Glad he made plenty, Zach explains what each appetizer is and quickly serves up plate after plate of food. Grinning whenever everyone ‘ohs and ahhhhs’ over his food.

“Isn’t it insane?” He overhears you saying to Rick, nodding enthusiastically a few feet away over another one of the prime rib croquettes. The grin on your face has stretched wide, making you glow.

He puffs up with pride, knowing that it might be silly that you are gushing over his food, but it makes him preen. He straightens slightly as he finally gives out the last plate and can leave the cart to be picked clean by the vultures he calls co-workers.

It’s easy to get swept away from each other in the sea of silliness and general merriment, and before too long your bandmates have dragged you up on stage in an entirely predictable show of what happens when performers spend time with friends.

They always, always perform.

“How did we all end up working?” Zach snorts, although he’s got a drink in his hand and his seat is as close to the stage as he could get without being on it. He never gets this view and he doesn’t care that there’s not a perfectly synchronized light screw working or you aren’t dolled up. Just music and the love to entertain shines and he watches as you laugh and grip the microphone.

Slipping back to the piano one more time to consult with Shane, there is a confident grin on your face when you return to the mic and take it off its stand to be more comfortable on the small rectangle where you perform night after night. "Everybody has tested out Zach's new recipes and now we're going to test out a few new songs," you joke to your coworkers, though it is completely true and no one minds at all.

Zach claps on the table top, eyes glued to you and it’s amazing how warm he feels right now. Like the alcohol in his system has set him on fire.

"This is something Shane and I have been toying with in rehearsals." There is no need for long or fancy introductions to songs, not when you're just having fun, and you turn to Shane to make sure you're starting in time with each other. The first chord on the piano is done in tandem with the first lyric, and the jazz arrangement that you have been slowly working on together takes shape for an audience for the very first time. "My lover's got humor...she's the giggle at a funeral..."

Zach sips his drink, leaning forward slightly and not even noticing it. Eyes fixed on you and ignoring everyone else in the club as they fade into the background.

Take Me to Church is a hell of a good song to begin with, but tonight it takes on an unexpectedly plaintive tone. Like rather than the passionate promise of someone already with the lover in question, you’re asking to be allowed to be with them. Making your case as a potential partner. Or maybe it sounds the way it always has to everyone else and the fact that you keep looking back at Zach in front of you is making your brain fog over with lust…and if that’s the case it would be extremely reasonable…

Completely entranced by the sultry, plaintive tone to your voice, he’s haunted by the idea - the hope - that you are singing to him. Knowing that everyone who sits in your audience probably feels the same way, he watches the way your eyes roam around the room and then land on him for a split second. He knows logically that you are just being a good showman, but he wants you to have the same desire and yearning that has him nearly aching. Even if he’s not physically hard, thank god, because it would be so obvious - his body is lit up with need.

They tug on you like a rope anchored deep in your chest, those few moments of eye contact. They steal your breath and buckle your knees, and when was the last time you had it this bad for a guy you barely knew?

It’s a miracle or a mercy that Shane calls the next song, but you could kill him for the choice. The intro he plays is a well beloved favorite, but the message makes you ache.

Maybe this time I’ll be lucky…maybe this time he’ll stay…maybe this time for the first time…love won’t hurry away…

Your words pierce his soul and make him bleed. He would close his eyes, but he can’t risk losing the sight of you clutching the microphone and pouring your soul into the words. Making him swallow harshly and nearly start to cry from the emotions you are exposing.

The end of the song is a belt, twisting you up as the intensity rises further and further, until the final blow out has you feeling as wrung out as a wet rag and practically sagging at your mic stand. There are tears in your eyes that get dabbed on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and you turn around to grab your drink off the nearby stool with a ragged breath. “Gimme a second,” you mutter to Shane, wondering why — after singing that song a thousand times — this is the one that makes you feel like you have ripped your heart open and left it shattered on the floor.

Maybe this time I’ll win.

No. You know why. That lyric and the man in the front row. Dammit. You really are a fucking sucker when you like someone.

Zach leans forward, wiping his eyes discreetly and hoping he doesn’t look like a wreck. It’s be so goddamn long since he’s had hope. Not hope for his future, but for his heart. His time in the Marine Corps had changed the course of his future and for a long time, he had believed he didn’t have a future at all. Roaming the streets had a tendency to make you hardened towards the ideals of love and life.

“You good?” Shane murmurs from across the piano, vamping to give you time to breathe. Normally a consummate professional, you’re pretty good at holding off your emotions until you’re off stage. He wonders if this is why you never drink while you’re singing. If it makes it harder for you to focus.

“Yeah.” You nod, wishing he hadn’t gone straight for the emotional jugular. “Something more upbeat this time?”

“Sure thing.” Shane nods and immediately transitions into a catchy, fun song that had been last years summer theme song and converted to a supper club song.

This is more like it. A pop song. The rendition of Katy Perry's Roar would go over well with the teens or other daughters of passengers that got dragged out to the supper club because their parents like jazz, and it's a lot of fun for the fifth member of your band. Cliff is a sax player and a hell of a fun guy, but doesn't always get to shine during all of your songs. He's been pitching a cover of Careless Whisper that is going to be a crowd pleaser too. Shane is a hell of a band leader and is working with him to make it phenomenal. For now, Roar is another good place for Cliff to show off.

Shane makes a playful face while you start singing, remembering how he would have at one time hated this song on principle. He was a rotten little fucker, but he has straightened up and he can’t help but admit that it’s catchy. Especially with you singing it.

This is the tempo most people were hoping for. You can see that in the crowd. People react unconsciously to things that make them happy and the brightened faces and straighter backs of your friends and coworkers is obvious. You look over to flash a smile at Shane -- who you know can't believe you talked him into pop songs – and give him a nod. This is the way to go tonight.

There’s something to be said for the energy of the crowd. Zach looks around, the place isn’t packed but there’s more noise coming from the staff in the seats than most of the customers in here most nights. Although they are normally busy eating full course meals, they aren’t up dancing like some are now.

It makes it fun. It makes it easy to lose track of time and enjoy yourselves. And it makes it more fun to sing for people who are also making a party out of it.

The dancing and drinking goes on, the party hits a stride, and before long a few people are pairing off and heading out for the night so that the party inside the club starts to naturally wind down. You have no idea what time it is when you come down from the stage for the second time tonight, although it's much nicer to breathe deeply and have the atmosphere of good friends around you instead of the awkward curiosity of the guests.

“Well I have to say that you definitely beat me out for the best performance of the night.” Zach scrubs his hand on his jeans as he comes up to you with a cup of ice water for you.

"Hardly." You laugh though, cheeks warm just at the sight of him walking up to you. When he holds out the drink you practically awwe out loud. "That's very sweet of you, though. Um...both, I mean. The compliment and the water. Thank you."

“Have to stay hydrated.” He knows you had drinks while you were on stage, plenty of others delivered them to you, but they were of the alcoholic variety. “Are you still hungry after basically working again?” He asks, grinning at you in awe.

“Fun fact about me,” you tell him, greedily sipping the cold water for a minute and enjoying the way you can feel it run down your entire body. “I’m always hungry.”

“Is that like…your superpower?” He leans in and whispers it playfully, like he’s asking in confidence. “Kind of like Bruce Banner is always angry?”

Zach’s breath is so hot on your skin that you almost flinch, a warm roll of anticipation chasing the cold feeling of the water all the way through you. “Maybe,” you tease back. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m hangry.”

“Then I guess I need to keep you fed.” He snorts, the alcohol in his system making him a little more relaxed than before and it feels like this entire night has been one big dance to lead up to a ‘moment’.

“Good thing you’re very talented.” Fuck…what a terrible line. To avoid owning up to it, you take another sip of water.

He bites his lip at the compliment and watches as you fluster slightly. “Well, since it’s my duty to keep you fed, I guess you should be able to reach me, right?” He asks. “A bat signal for food?”

Instinctually, you’re about to refuse, until about two seconds later when you realize what he’s saying. What he’s offering you. And then the smile splitting your face open grows even wider. “I guess that would be good,” you tease him again and relish the feeling. How easy it is and how good it feels.

Zach pulls out his phone and opens it up to the messages to hand it over to you. “Here you go.” He offers, wondering if you are finding it a little cheesy how he’s basically asked for your number.

Typing your number into the top line, you tilt his phone away from him with a mischievous grin to type out a little message and send it to yourself. When your own phone dings in your pocket a second later, you pull it out and make a great show of reading the message before you react.

Gorgeous chef promises gorgeous singer to keep her fed and she promises to dedicate songs to him in return. Everybody wins.

“Why Zach,” you gasp playfully, one hand flying to your chest after you have his phone back. “You think I’m gorgeous? You flirt.”

Zach reads the message on his own phone and looks up at you for a moment. “And a little too self confident.” He practically giggles, butterflies swimming in his stomach at your description of him. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. Me? Not so much.”

“It’s all a costume. The hair, the make up, the gowns? All of that’s a mask to hide behind.” You may be dressed down right now, without your mask on and not ready to fight, but you know that that’s why you do it. Why you get dolled up every night. It’s not for the guests. It’s your armor. “I…was calling you gorgeous. Adding it for myself was just in case you didn’t mean this as flirting. I could say it was all a joke…”

He stares at you for a moment and shakes his head. “You look great right now. And I know you’re not in a gown or wearing a lot of makeup.” He points out. “So I meant what I wrote.” He tells you adamantly, even if you had technically written the text.

“And so did I.” Setting aside anything else, you add Zach’s name to your contacts and slip your phone into your pocket.

You let slip a yawn and he frowns. “It’s getting late.” It’s the early hours of the morning, and everyone has to be up soon to start the day over again. “Why don’t we get you a snack and get you to bed?”

“That is quite possibly the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me,” you tell him, grinning all over again. When your roommate calls out that she’s leaving you just tell her to go on. That you’ll catch up. You may be hoping a certain chef will walk you back, but you know he and Shane are housed on a different deck.

“So the way to girl’s heart is through her stomach too?” He turns back towards the kitchen and his hand hovers over your back again. “Interesting.”

Letting yourself be led by him is easy. Honestly it might be the easiest you’ve ever gone with anyone anywhere. “Anybody who claims they can’t be won over by a person who puts enough thought and care into to them that they craft a whole meal to take care of them with? Liars.”

He hums, smirking slightly as he guides you towards the refrigerators again. “What are you thinking you want to eat?” He asks, curious about your comfort foods.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” you admit. His kitchen is so well stocked and his skills are so much more extensive than yours. “I basically survive on sandwiches if I have to feed myself.”

“So would you like a sandwich?” He asks. “I can make that happen.”

“Actually,” he sits you down on a stool at the counter and you feel a little dreamy just watching him move, but at least it’s honest. “That sounds amazing.”

He hums as he looks through the fridge and smiles. “Then I know exactly what I’m going to make you.” He starts pulling out ingredients.

“Did you…like any of the music?” It seems right to make conversation, especially since he is once again feeding you, and you are honestly curious. Any song he likes is going to get more play in the club, you can admit that to yourself plenty easily.

“All of it.” That answer comes easily and readily falls off his tongue. “I think you might be the best singer I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Oh come on.” The best you can do is a huff of disbelief so you don’t break out into nervous laughter, but your stomach flips and your whole body turns hot in pleased embarrassment. “You’re exaggerating.”

“No.” He shakes his head as he brings his treasures over to the counter to lay them out. “I’ve heard a lot of people. Some of the street singers came close, but you beat them all.”

Surveying him quietly, you don’t think too much about the comment on street singers since buskers are everywhere where you’re from. Instead you crack a self-deprecating smile. “Would you mind calling up some of the producers I’ve auditioned for and telling them that? I think I could use a spokesperson.”

“Give me their numbers.” Zach huffs. “Guaranteed in a few years you are headlining somewhere.” He tells you. “Vegas or something.”

"Then this is a perfect place to start." You motion to the ship around you. "Floating Vegas, if you will."

“It’s a good place to forget the rest of the world and all the problems there exists.” He agrees, methodically putting your sandwich together.

"And." Leaning forward on your elbows, you bite back your broad grin into something more flirtatious. "To meet gorgeous chefs."

He pauses for a moment, meeting your eyes and his own smile blooms over his face. “And sultry singers.”

For a moment you consider just trying your luck. Just leaning across the counter and kissing him and seeing what happens. But there is just enough of a hint of nervous in your system despite his red cheeks and hooded eyes that you hesitate, licking your lips and swallowing the lump in your throat. You can shoot your shot in a different way, without being too forward. Just in case.

"Would you..." There is blood pounding in your ears and you can't quite hear what you're even saying, but you press on. "Would you...want to go out sometime? With me, I mean? Like when we both have time off?"

Zach is stunned silent for a second before he remembers that he had to answer you out loud. He handed you the sandwich with a beaming smile. “I’d like nothing more.” He promises.

"Yeah?" Now you're both grinning at each other like idiots, and you nudge the plate between you accidentally before remembering he was just cooking for you like a damn culinary angel that dropped right out of the sky. The sandwich he made is a work of art, and you pick up one half before nudging the plate back at him to share. "Okay, um...just let me know when you have time off?"

“I’ll check the schedule and text you.” He smiles as you take your first bite and wonders how the hell he’s gotten so lucky.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[sakur4ii]

Rooted Connections Pt.2

Charles Xavier x Reader x Erik Lensherr

the gender of the reader is not specified

Note: I will not make a third part, I hope you like it. Also reminder that English is not my first language, let me know if there are any mistakes I didn't notice (especially with pronouns).

Summary: feelings come out, plants love romance and you are still as blind as in the first part.

Finally, peace.

After supposedly saving the future from great chaos, Charles decided to reopen the doors of his school, offering you to stay with him. You accepted because you didn't want to leave him alone, feeling his sadness through the earth. Although in reality, he wasn’t alone; he now had his students, but the connection the three of you had created was so strong that you feared that if you also left, he would break again.

Years have passed, and now the school is full, and you are a teacher.

You walk through the halls, searching for something, maybe someone, though you’re not sure. The mansion’s plants have warned you but haven’t specified anything, so you proceed cautiously, trying to find some intruder.

"Professor Y/N,” you hear, a voice you know well.

“What is it, Jean?” You turn around; you can’t see her clearly, but you can feel her nerves and hear her heart beating faster than usual.

“Someone is approaching from the backyard.”

Before she finishes speaking, you are already running to the backyard. The plants don’t want to reveal anything, and for some reason, you don’t feel any unusual presence, leading you to assume that the earth doesn’t want you to know who the intruder is on purpose.

Once your bare feet touch the green, damp grass, you stop feeling the presence of everyone at the school except for the person sitting on the grass a few feet away from you, and Charles, who is coming up behind you.

You take slow steps toward the seated person, hearing a gasp behind you. You sit down next to him and wait for Charles to come closer until he is on the other side of the man.

“What are you doing here, Erik?” Charles asks. You can feel his conflicting emotions through his voice. On one hand, he is happy to see him again and that it isn’t to stop him from killing all of humanity and condemning mutants. On the other hand, he’d love to punch him again for prioritizing revenge and abandoning him.

But you focus more on the absolute pain you feel from Erik through the earth. You can feel him mourning, yet also very angry, seeking comfort to avoid vengeance.

When Charles doesn’t receive any response, and you can assume he also starts to feel the man’s emotions, you wrap your arm around Erik’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug, enough for him to start crying.

“I tried,” he sobs into your neck, while Charles sits on the ground, leaving the chair aside and firmly holding Erik’s hand between his own. “I tried to live like them, to blend in, and they… they killed my wife and daughter.”

You don’t know what to say; you don’t know how to comfort him with words, so you just rub his back. You know Charles is afraid of saying something wrong, something that will only make the situation worse, so both of you remain silent, comforting your old friend (and the third missing piece of the puzzle) through gentle touches.

“I didn’t know where else to go… you’re all I have left.”

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

You weren’t born blind; you had the privilege of seeing the color of the sky and vegetation. You had the privilege of having a favorite color, but an accident occurred, and it was no longer worth thinking about things like a favorite book or a favorite flower because you couldn’t see anything anymore.

Plants are very talkative; they always have been. They love to gossip, and they love drama. The day before the accident, they were very hysterical, sensing something bad was coming, but they couldn’t say what.

Then the accident happened, and you were hospitalized. The plants felt guilty, apologizing over and over, even the plants you didn’t know but who knew you, apologizing and feeling ashamed that they hadn’t been useful, that they couldn’t prevent the tragedy.

It was when you lost your sight that your powers began to manifest: control of the earth, the ability to feel through it. Your mentors were the plants, the trees, and the earth itself. You learned that you could see through the roots of trees, and that was an easy way to find something or someone.

When you met Charles, even before the man arrived at your house, the plants were more talkative than usual. They told you everything they knew, like how Logan was from the future and needed help, your help. But they mostly talked about Professor X and a puzzle. You couldn’t understand them, but their excitement amused you.

When they freed Erik from that cell, the plants began talking non-stop again, once more about a supposed puzzle and Erik’s entire life, about how angry they were with some of his actions but how much they appreciated him.

The first time they fell completely silent was when Erik shot Raven; the second was when Erik fled to avoid being captured.

The third time you didn’t understand the silence; you were listening to Charles reading to his younger students, and out of nowhere, the plants fell silent, a mourning silence.

And the fourth time was the day after the third when Erik appeared unannounced at the school. Although it was more for drama—did I mention they are dramatic?

Erik stayed at the school, purposely obtaining the room that was between yours and Charles’.

If before the plants always talked about Charles, Erik, and his family and the children at school, now, whenever you entered your room, they only talked about Charles and Erik. You only heard about the children if you went outside.

A couple of years have passed. Erik is visibly better, happier, and that makes you happy because it’s real, he’s not pretending, and you’re the first to know that.

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

Your room is a madhouse; you feel like you’re losing your sanity. They won’t stop talking about how handsome, intelligent, and kind Charles is, or how hot, serious, and cunning Erik is. They have the audacity to tease you for not being able to see them, those bitches. When did they go from remorse to mockery?

“What time is it?” you ask, tired, sitting on the edge of your bed while putting on your sunglasses. They all ignore you, except for some jasmine flowers Charles gave you for your birthday along with some heart-shaped sunglasses.

You leave the room, grateful for the silence the hallway plants give you. You don’t know what to do; maybe you’ll go to the kitchen and eat some ice cream, you’re not sure.

When you arrive at the kitchen and take out a tub of ice cream and a spoon, you’re surprised that no plant has told you not to eat something so cold in the middle of the night, raising your suspicions.

You focus on the earth, sensing how all the children and adults are sleeping, everyone except Xavier and Lensherr, which makes you sigh tiredly.

Lately, the plants not only wouldn’t stop talking about them, but they also did everything possible to ensure you spent most of your time in the same room with them, and you only complied because deep down, you wanted that too.

You finish the ice cream and walk through the halls to Charles’ office, without any obstacles in the way (the children make sure not to leave anything lying around that might hinder you, even though they know you could easily avoid it; they fear you might get distracted and have an accident).

—“Come in”— you hear in your head, making you jump in place, and some nearby flowers laugh.

You open the door, and for some reason, they’re both sitting on a three-seater couch. Charles’ wheelchair is set aside to not get in the way, and the plants laugh conspiratorially.

«Speak of the devil…» a flower murmurs, sparking your curiosity.

“Can’t sleep?” Xavier asks. You shake your head. The other man is silent; you know he’s watching you, his intense gaze on you. Sometimes you think he has the power to read souls and keeps it a secret.

Charles laughs at your thought, but you don’t notice him elbowing Erik to stop being so obvious.

“Come sit with us, darling.”

The flowers and plants in the room react as if the pet name was directed at them, as if expressing what you don’t dare express even in your own head for fear the telepath might discover your feelings.

Smiling, you approach the couch. Erik, the closest to you, takes your hand and guides you to sit between them.

“What were you talking about?” you ask.

“Nothing important; we were just planning to take the older kids on a field trip, maybe,” Charles responds, and you know he’s not lying, but from the booing of the plants, you can tell that wasn’t what they were discussing before you arrived.

Erik remains silent; you can’t figure out why. Lately, you can’t sense his feelings, only his emotions, and you can guess that the earth is hiding them on purpose—or maybe the metal?

What you do sense is his knee brushing against yours and his gaze trying not to linger on you for too long.

You tilt your head to one side, sharpening your hearing, trying to pick up something more; you don’t know what, but you want to hear all their movements and, above all, the beating of their hearts.

Just when you perfectly hear their rapid heartbeats, the plants start making a ruckus, making you frown.

“What’s wrong?” Erik finally speaks.

“Why don’t the plants want me to hear your heartbeats?”

Unbeknownst to you, Erik and Charles share a wide-eyed look of complicity.

—“We should tell her”— Erik.

—“Now?”— Charles.

The silence between the two men creates a lump in your throat. Since that day on the plane, you felt like you were missing something in the dynamic, all because you couldn’t see. You felt out of place in moments like these, where they might be communicating with just a glance—or worse, telepathically. You hated the thought that they were having secret conversations, thinking that they were using the fact that you couldn't see to communicate in secret. And you hated knowing they were communicating because you could feel the change in emotions through the ground, but what you hated even more was that now you couldn't even feel the emotions of the two men because nature decided to turn its back on you this time.

Tired, you get up from the couch.

"Sorry for interrupting your time alone, I'm going to bed."

You avoid the obstacles you can't feel now but know are there.

"Y/N, no, wait! It's not what you think, let me explain," Charles says, while Erik gets up and runs towards you, grabbing you so you won't escape (and without you knowing, preventing you from bumping into the closed door).

"Listen to them, listen to them, listen to them," the plants chant in unison as you squirm in his grip. The earth allows you to see through your feet again, finally letting you feel the emotions of the two men, which makes you stop struggling and fall into shock at what you're sensing.

"You two are in love," you whisper.

Erik leads you back to the couch and sits you down so that you're facing the telepath, while he hugs you from behind and hides his face in the crook of your neck. He's embarrassed.

Charles gently removes your sunglasses, and you can feel his emotions not just through the ground but also inside your head. He takes your hand in his.

"We’ve been debating whether or not to tell you; we didn't know how you'd react, darling."

"So much secrecy just to tell me you two are dating? I'm not homophobic if that's what you were worried about," you say with an amused smile.

You're sure both men are rolling their eyes.

«Don't be an idiot» a flower says.

"Shush."

Charles laughs while Erik raises an eyebrow in a questioning manner towards him, knowing he's missing something.

"We're not just dating, Y/N. We love you as much as we love each other, and we want you to be a part of what we have because you're the missing piece of the puzzle," says Charles.

"And we want you to be officially ours," adds Erik.

Their words take you by surprise, making your heart race a thousand miles an hour. You're sure you're blushing, and loose words echo in your head.

The missing piece of the puzzle... ha... that sounds familiar.

At some point during the evening, you moved to Erik's room (the one furthest from the other rooms, with only one flower that you gave him a long time ago), where you shared kisses, hugs, words, and feelings. Where you expressed the great love you share, making grand plans for the future. And where you realized that you never were out of place; rather, you had always been missing, so they could feel complete.

The End.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@djlnkaled @kindlover @only-nope @larissa1379 👋❤️

[blimgus]

WHB SLEEPOVER SERIES -GEHENNA VER.

Hey guysss blimgus here

guys guys listen i've got an idea.

_______________________________________

Imagine spending your sweet time in Gehenna. Peaceful slow time in the capital passes with the occasional random explosions in the background. However, when the night comes it's time to head back to Satan's castle for a rest. But due to some devils fighting over your attention with each other, you decide that organizing a big sleepover would solve the problem!

By bribing Ppyong with some chocolate you get the necesarry stuff you needed from Minhyeok's room. You grab the definitly too big bag from the tiny Red Lump Devil and hand over his reward.You check the contents of it,while Ppyong stuffs a bunch of ferreros in his mouth.

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

Satan

○ pretty chill about organising a sleepover, tells you that's a good way to boost morale

○ tbh i imagine he'll pick a classic white tank top and some heart boxer briefs xD

○ imagine having a casual romantic talk with him while cooking marshmallows over a burning toaster

○ he's totally up to play some games and have fun with you ( and his subordinates)

○ causes a massive pillow fight to unleash, anihilates most of the others(don't worry he'll go easy on you, but you will not escape your fate *yeets a pillow*)

○ however true chaos starts when you introduce him to Mario Kart

○ oh God I have the absolutely cursed idea. Like imagine playing Mario Kart with him as a foreplay later (gfhsjsbsb)

○when the time to sleep comes he'll flop down on the huge bed like some kind of a log

○ yeah you wake up to grab some water or go piss and have a Satan jumpscare bc either he sleeps with his eyes open (which totally glow in the dark believe me) or he just pretends to be asleep and we will never know the truth

Sitri

○ahhh Sitri my baby

○ like he's totally rocking the leopard print luxury pyjamas bc like that's so Sitri-coded

○he'll spend most of the with his tea on the sofa.The only person allowed to sit next to him is you, just so he can listen to your heartbeat a bit better ~♡

○ paint his nails, paint his nails

○ i totally see Sitri sitting with you in the kitchen, blind testing some awful convenience store tea and listening to him shit talking the diffrent brands while offering you to try some REAL tea (we all know how it may end)

○ when the places for everyone to sleep were decided, he got kinda fussy bc he was somehow expelled from the bed

○ baby got angy, but at least he gets to calmly listen to your heartbeat when you sleep...

Paimon

○ PAIMON PAIMON YAS QUEEN

○ No.1 sleepover fan

○ Literally teleported to you when he heard you say the word ,,sleepover "

○ Literally girls night , painting nails, eating snacks, doing each others hairrrr, playing dress-up

○ totally into watching Barbie movies, especially the Old ones, or some shitty romcoms

○ came up with the idea of organising a Just Dance tournament to decide who gets to sleep next to you,

○ offers you to help you clean off your make up before sleeping to get alone with you for a while

○ good night smooches from Paimon♡

Leraye

○ Golden retriever energyyyy

○ he would probably wear a kigurumi, or some cute long sleeved pyjamas with a teddy bear pattern

○ gets destroyed at Mario Kart oof

○ tbh I headcanon that the whole pillow fight started bc he accidentaly sniped Satan with a pillow from across the room.

○*insert boss battle music*

○ *insert the sounds of gunshots and screams*

○ all Hell breaking loose

○ also he gets really invested in the Barbie movie's story???

○at the end of the day, he goes to sleep with one of satan's decapitated plushie~

Belial

○Happily agrees to joining the party!...*insert jjyu cursing*

○ he comes wearing matching dark read top and bottom, ngl the colour matches his hair highlights nicely

○ also Jjyu is here with a tiny night cap

○Belial seems like that one person who comes to the party to share some banger music they found on Spootify

○ ya know some small talk with himm while the musics plays in the background

○ some time later puts Jjyu in time out bc he got a little out of control

○ in order to keep chatting with him without straining his voice, you decide to whisper to each others ears

○ so romantic

Zagan

○ Most of the time he just keep to himself. Don't worry he's enjoying himself, just not too good with talking.

○honestly i think he'll wear a black tank top and some totally normal pants. Idk he just seems like the neutral clothing type of guy to me.

○Tries to learn some Mario Kart. I mean he still ends on a higher place in the races than Leraye due to everyone """accidentaly""" targeting him.

○ Have you wondered who won the Just Dance tournament?

○Yeah, it was Zagan.

○ He absolutely destroyed Paimon and Sitri, much to their dismay.

○ Now he gets to sleep next to you!

○ Don't worry we keeping this situation "non-horni" so no naughty stuff or smth

○sooo he just lays there with you on his right side and on the left... there's a drooling and snoring Leraye.

Astaroth

○ honestly nobody expected him to actually show up

○but heyyy he and his snake are here!!

○ totally wears the darkest coloured robe and some classy black fluff slippers

○ kitchen talk with you, him and Sitri so real

○ low pitched chuckle coming from him when he sees you goofing around with others

○he loves hearing your laugh

○ agrees to tell you a bedtime story as long as you'll promise him to repay the favour later~

○ he spends the night on the armchair, his snake chilling on his shoulders, while he reads a book he brought to the party

___________________________

Paying my respects to people writing fanfics, bc it takes a lot of dedication to push out that many words and not go bonkers...

First time writing anything like that on this site, English grammar defeated me here.

Hope you like it!

-blimgus out

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

korra fluff 🥹🥹 i love my girl so much😔

Dining with the Rich

|| Avatar Korra x fem!reader

|| Warnings: none, just pure fluff

|| Summary: Korra finds reader hanging out by the park river and offers to take her on a nice date, it's been a while since they had the chance to.

Requests open!

~~~

It was a peaceful day in Republic City.

You'd been enjoying your morning, laying by the park river and looking towards the sky with your arms folded behind your head. Feeling relaxed and at peace for the first time in a while. Being the Avatar's girlfriend meant you were always caught up in some chaos or drama that didn't originally involve you... but you somehow get dragged into anyway.

That's when you hear the sound of a familiar voice calling your name, propping yourself up on your elbows you turn your head and see Avatar Korra. Giving you that classic smile of hers you've come to love. A soft blush forms on your cheeks and you smile back as she waves at you, joining you by the river and sitting down beside you. Planting a soft kiss to your lips.

"Hey, you." She rests her hand on your knee," What're you doing out here? I've been looking for you all morning."

You lean your head on her shoulder, resting against her side and taking in her warmth.

"Enjoying the weather. You said you've been looking for you?" You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. Was your peace really going to be interrupted by more Avatar duties again?

"Yeah, I've been thinking... it's been a while since we went on a proper date, unless you count fighting villains as a date?" Korra jokes, you roll your eyes and suppress a laugh.

"Absolutely not."

"Didn't think so." Korra gives you a playful nudge, which manages to get that laugh out of you. She smiles," Asami mentioned a nice restaurant that opened up recently and offered to get us a reservation. If you're interested."

"Oh, definitely. I'm not missing out on free rich people food." You smile back and Korra laughs this time, draping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you in close to her side.

"How about tonight, then?" She looks at you and you nod.

~~~

A few hours later, you were getting ready for your date. In absolute state of panic trying to make sure you presented yourself perfectly.

Jinora walked past your door (you have a room in the Air Temple) then stopped and back tracked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Why are you so freaked out?" She asks, you jump and turn to look at her. Having been startled by her sudden appearance.

"I have a date with Korra tonight and I need to look perfect. Asami got us a reservation at some fancy rich restaurant." You explain, your hands making frantic gestures.

Jinora stifles a laugh and walks into your room, arms folded across her chest as she tilts her head at you.

"Korra's not going to care what you wear. I mean, have you seen the way she dresses?" Jinora reminds you, you glance at yourself in your body mirror. Looking over your features.

You'd thrown together a quick outfit. A nice black velvet sleeveless t (which showed a bit of cleavage). Paired with velvet black dress pants. It was the nicest thing you owned and you had saved an embarrassing amount of money just to get it.

"I know but the place is like- super fancy-" You stutter out, rethinking your choice as you bite down on your thumb nail.

Jinora rolls her eyes.

"If you aren't going to listen to my advice you're hopeless." She leaves you to fend for yourself, not wanting to deal with you if you won't even listen to her advice.

~~~

After another hour of fussing, you finally decide you were at least presentable. Taking a breath, you stepped out of your room and headed down the hall. Why was this all still scary? You and Korra have been on a number of dates. This one shouldn't be any different.

But it was.

Because you'd be dining with rich people. God, you just realized you didn't even know proper table manners. Like, yeah you knew how to behave yourself at a table but not rich people level.

Though you quickly relaxed remembering Korra was in the same boat as you. Even if she was the Avatar, her manners... could use a little work.

You made it to the first level of the Temple, Korra standing by the front door and waiting for you. Styled similarly to how she was during the last scene of the finale episode.

I couldn't find any decent pictures.

She noticed you and smiled, taking in your appearance with a soft blush on her cheeks.

"You look... wow. Now I feel underdressed." She looks down at her own outfit and you can't help but laugh, smiling and taking her hand in yours.

"You look perfect." You assure her, a blush on your cheeks matching the one on Korra's.

Korra gives you a soft kiss, though you don't let her pull away and instead continue it for a moment. Your lips moving against each others in soft, rhythmic motions before your lips finally part. Separated by a mere inch or so as you looked into each other's eyes.

Your hand squeezed hers and she leads you out of the Temple, heading to your date spot.

The rest of the night flows smoothly. The two of you enjoying your meals, having conversation after conversation. Talking about anything and everything from latest bending techniques to latest interests. The hours tick by and you haven't even realized how long it's been. Just enjoying have a night off to be with each other.

It was nice focusing on your relationship rather than the world.

[respectthepetty]

10 Anticipated BLs for 2024

Since I'm excited for ALL the GLs (Pluto, 23.5, Sunshine in the Wind, Chaser Game, Be Mine, y todo!), I'm making my list of the 10 BLs I'm excited for this year with brief reasons why I'm looking forward to them. In my normal fashion, I cheat my way into having more. All except one is Thai because Thailand loves to tease series three years in advance, then never make them, but I strongly believe these are coming:

The Next Prince

Zee continues to never play a poor person, and a trailer is supposed to drop in the first quarter of this year. I never knew there was so many fencers on BL Tumblr, so I'm looking forward to everyone's commentary on how well the characters poke with their sticks or whatever fencers do.

Jack & Joker: U Steal My Heart

It's a heist BL. It has YinWar. It has Prom x Mark. It has Bonz. It's Dee Hup House (we got beef). It's Director Tee and probably Cinematographer Jim. It might have color coding. There is not one thing I can find wrong with this series. It's perfect on paper, and I'm praying that translates well to the screen.

Spare Me Your Mercy

Like that lady in Titanic, I've been waiting 80 years for this series (give me a minute to cry about MaxTul), and it's finally near! I'm getting JJ & Tor in a Dr. Sammon piece, who I feel writes "Be Gay, Do Crime" very well, so I'll be forgiving any of these two gays' wrongs including murder, attempted murder, contemplating murder, and murdering each other in the bedroom (ahhhh!).

Wandee Goodday

Golf from The Eclipse is directing. It's about Muay Thai. It has an older doctor and a younger boxer who start off as bed friends (and I think one is actually a virgin). It has color coding. It has me already seated and waiting with popcorn, and I think it might be the first offering that will be delivered from GMMTV's 2024 lineup.

Sequels: Choco Milk Shake 2, Unintentional Love Story 2, My Doctor

Is Choco Milk Shake 2 gonna finally give me poly? Probably not, but I hope My Doctor brings the same heat the side couple did in Be Mine, Superstar, and the side couple getting the spotlight in Unintentional Love Story 2 will also make my side-couple-supremacy heart very happy this year.

Live in Love

It looks color coded. That's it. That's the reason. Keeping my expectations low because it might not get made since this is Thailand's favorite game.

Red Peafowl

The character reveals were absolute chaos, so I'm hoping that chaos transfers over to the actual series because it can either be a mess or a masterpiece, but it cannot be mediocre with Max, Cooheart, Boun, Mek, and Yacht as supports. Plus, it has color coding and a bird that is quickly becoming a Tumblr god.

Love Upon a Time

Even though it is a historical queer series, which means it could be sad, I think Domundi will keep the sass, so James' character won't be crying in the 1600s club but instead eating fruit seductively to encourage Net's character to put his homosexual skills into practice instead of simply theorizing about them, which is something I need more of. Plus, it has color coding.

Love Puzzle

This is one that might not get made because . . . Thailand. It's connected to Chains of Heart, but I don't care because the cast looks good and Poppy is gonna finally get to kiss a homie. If this doesn't get made, I will cry thug tears. It's 2024. Poppy deserves to kiss a man already.

My Stand-In

I don't understand the plot, but it doesn't matter because Pepzi and Khom are directing, and in case that means nothing, those were KinnPorsche's directors! Then, it has Up and Poom as the leads, plus a stacked supporting cast. I'm here. I'm queer. And I'm ready to be served.

Honorable Mention: Peaceful Property

It's about los espookys and features Tay and New. Will it be a QL? The streets are saying no, but all the characters are color coded, and all's I'm saying is what would be the point of color coding them if I ain't getting a BL main couple and a GL side couple? It's already canon to me.

Bonus: MosBank & JoongDunk

MosBank had like eighty projects announced for 2023, and I got NONE! Big Dragon 2, Big Dragon: The Movie, SunsetxVibes, where you at?! Y Journey: Stay Like a Local and Club Friday do not count. I don't want to watch their horror movie, but gosh darnit, if that comes out before everything else, I just might.

And I am a JoongDunk fan first, and a human second. Give my boys a gym BL already, GMMTV!

[wannaeatramyeon]

you absolutely killed my last ask (unlike gun with those poor people)!! to make up for the toxicity, i feel like sammy should be allowed to relax/be spoiled by his partner. not his regular 'the most expensive brands i can find', but sleep in, breakfast in bed, back rub, and diy face masks vibe. i don't think he's ever experienced it, and would love to see his confusion🌺

I am but a weak little person, especially after reading @lookismfanfics soft Samuel here. Sorry for the delay and thank you for this ask my sweet flower anon! There is pretty much ZERO toxicity here, and just a whole lotta love!

Samuel Seo x Reader: Spoiling Sammy

3 very fluffy, very indulgent scenes: back rub, bath, birthday

Samuel is surprisingly easy to fluster.

He's not used to tender touches or calm caresses. At least without giving anything in return.

The first time you lay your hands on his shoulders, giving him a massage and rebuffing his advances, he eyes you with suspicion. All the suspicion. Why are you touching him if you didn't expect any pleasure for yourself?

"Just relax," you instruct. And he tries. He really tries.

Little by little, tension leaves Samuel's body. This is... nice. Shoulders no longer stiff with stress, and a weight lifted. Before long, he is groaning as you continue to work out the knots and rub his back.

The noises slipping from his lips is what snaps him out of his daze. Why the hell is he moaning and feeling vulnerable from this simple gesture.

Hiding his blush, Samuel bats your hand away with some excuse of needing to make a call.

.

.

Workers is full of idiots and bullshitters, and no-one can ever convince Samuel otherwise.

He slams the front door, wishing that it was Eugene's head trapped there. Samuel could do his job a thousand times better, a million. How dare he-

"Sammy?" you poke your head out of the bathroom at his angry mutterings - another standard day in the office then, "Come here!"

Fuck, what a shit day.

He drops his jacket carelessly on the floor, and yanks his tie off as he makes his way towards you. Samuel just needs to decompress tonight, he doesn't have it in him to do anything else. Some peace and quiet. A bath, and a glass of-

"Whiskey?" you offer, handing him his favourite readily poured into a crystal tumbler.

Candles are lit, soft music drifts out, steam fills the air. The bathtub is full. And are those rose petals floating in the water?

"Is... is this for me?" he asks, and you nod enthusiastically.

You really didn't need to do this. You really shouldn't have done this. Now Samuel finds a lump in his throat and a tightness in his chest.

He thinks you might be his favourite person.

.

.

Samuel awakens to the faint whiff of burning, and commotion coming from somewhere in his penthouse.

The initial annoyance, as he plods barefoot into the kitchen, is soon replaced with bafflement at the utter chaos you have created. It's not even 10am on a Saturday. At what unholy hours did you have to get up to cause all this?!

On the counter sits the ugliest cake he has ever seen.

Lopsided and tilting. Uneven frosting. A frankly obscene amount of sprinkles. Some scribbles that could read 'Sammy' if he removes his glasses and squints.

He suspects it might even be poisoned.

The rest of the kitchen fares no better. It looks like a bomb had gone off.

You stand there, undeterred, like the cat who got the cream. Flour in your hair, a smile on your face.

"Happy birthday, Sammy!"

Oh.

He doesn't recall the last time he celebrated his birthday, nevermind ever having received a homemade cake.

Damn you and damn the way you have bulldozed your way into his heart.

Samuel finds himself completely head over heels.

[stari-hun]

Medicine Pocket and Mesmer Jr Siblongcy

Here’s why everyone should adopt Medicine Pocket and Mesmer Jr chosen siblinghood.

Certified @anonymocha cult memberrrrrr, go check out their post on Mesmer and MedPocket HEREEEEE

The short? Lives life like a wounded dog and HALLO NEW DOG AT THE DOGGY DAYCARE? FUCK YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The long is that Mesmer Jr is a deeply unwell character who’ll live with the consequences of Constantine conditioning her for the rest of her life. Constantine conditioned Mesmer to be near completely dependent on her despite the fact that she’s the source of majority of the trauma she goes through. From her graduating class dying, putting her in the rehab center so young, letting her near there at an even YOUNGER stage, basically training her to make her arcanum solely focus on something that’s actively hurting her. Even if Mesmer was taken away from Constantine, she would go back to her because in a world she was purposefully not taught to cope in, Constantine is a comfort. Even if she’s the cause, Constantine makes everything in order again for her. Trauma responses don’t have to be rational and Mesmer shows that. At the end of the day, Mesmer is closer to a wounded dog than a person.

LUCKY FOR HER HER CLASSMATE LOVES DOGS

Mesmer Jr who's used to being able to blend into the background next to Vertin and the others.

Medicine Pocket who goes up to Vertin’s group to ask if they wanna go run around in the grass. Medpocket and Vertin who run around for a while and then Sonetto joins them, then Matilda before noticing someone's still on the benches near the buildings. So they go up to Mesmer like “:D Why aren’t you coming with us, are you injured or something??” (We both know medicine pocket’s rude ass was absolutely a no filter child) and Mesmer Jr who already has anxiety up until that point esp around strangers, avoids talking to MedPocket.

Mesmer Jr who gets confused why this person is randomly talking to her, and even more so why they're so rude.

Medicine Pocket who refuses to give up on making everyone in the friend group accept them “I gotta be apart of the pack!”

Mesmer Jr who tried to avoid getting caught in the whirlwind of energy Medpocket stirs up in the group.

Medicine Pocket who notices assigns an animal (fursona) to everyone in the group and realizes Mesmer is the most like a dog in the group [Vertin is a cat (friendly but never truly tamable) , Sonetto is a Fox (sorry Pupnetto), and Matilda is a bird]

Mesmer Jr who just as on guard as MedPocket is observant and always looks over the group to check everyone is still there.

Medicine Pocket who approaches Mesmer like a scared dog: always alerting when they’re coming close, offering snacks, making sure to sit in their group during lunch time.

Mesmer Jr who's wary but still a kid like all of the others and accepts their snacks. Barely registering as MedPocket started taking the seats farthest from them in the group while still talking to her.

Medicine Pocket who tries sitting next to Mesmer while the others play outside again before noticing she seems too uncomfortable that close to a stranger

Mesmer Jr who's still jumpy around strangers but is slowly warming up to this weird kid.

Medicine Pocket who then tests how close they can get without her feeling threatened by a stranger (it’s Medpoc sitting on the ground on the other side of the bench)

Mesmer Jr who doesn't notice the way Medpocket is getting closer each day but feels something is off.

Medicine Pocket who spends weeks getting closer each day talking to her as she listens until she doesn’t even notice them getting closer each day (it’s literally only 20cm closer)

Mesmer Jr who's already integrated Medicine Pocket into her schedule without realizing their chaos brings her a weird sense of peace.

WRAHHHHHHHHHHH WEIRDO SIBLING DUOOOOO

Unwell genius duo, the MeMe siblings. Mesmer Jr unironically gained coping with her anxiety despite Constantine exasperating it via Therapy Dog. (Years later, after Vereinsamt, Vertin comments about how she got a therapy dog and Mesmer bites back about Pupnetto.) Mesmer Jr has uncurable anxiety which she herself knows is too bad to be around others that stress her out, but if she grew up with MEDPOCKET?? I just know she'd be much more comfortable in the world cause she has another rock besides Constantine. On top of it, if that person was MEDPoCKET? Resident biter, literally ate their rulebook, their office sign has bitemarks, and they threatened to bite Laplace's DIRECTOR. Medicine Pocket is the perfect chaos to calm Mesmer down. Medicine Pocket IS an irrational arcanist but they make sense and they're very caring and considerate to their friends which is why they're so close in the main storyline. Mesmer isn't the slightest bit uncomfortable around them so if they GREW UP TOGETHER? Mocha by god I think you cracked the code cause this feral therapy dog is about to save Mesmer Racism Jr from so many bad habits and hurt later on. They'd really be each other's comfort and chaos and I love that for them.

Constantine : It's time for your internship with the rehab center, Mesmer Jr. Medicine Pocket, stanced up after sensing she's having a panic attack at the idea of going : 👁️👁️

[milfhawks]

😊😊😊❤️❤️❤️ heres what i have written so far.

warnings: very NSFW, omegaverse

Male omegas and female alphas are intersex

so omega mihawk was very sick as a child and this caused some unfortunate side effects when he got older, one such being he doesn’t get heats and another being that he is infertile. mihawk is at the time nonchalant about that particular fact, but as life continues he thinks on it more, on carrying a child, growing a life within him, who many consider a harbinger of death. a demon only capable of destruction and chaos. carrying a child with which he can live a peaceful life, a child he can raise and teach. a legacy, wether it be a master swordsman, or a simple farmer, this child would be something tangible he could leave behind.

a child that would never be in a future now impossible. mihawk is devastated.

years go on and rivals are found and friendships and more blossom afterwards.

one day as mihawk is going about his business he idk stops a bandit or something that was terrorizing some civilians and annoying him, hes got a migrane going on so when on of the civilians offers to cure the migrane with their devil fruit powers! it works and mihawk continues his life.

until the week after when he is out sailing amd he starts to feel hot, and bothered.

he figures hes just really horny right now so he quickly and efficiently-almost cold in its roboticness- jerks his dick to get off. it wasn’t till after he finished for the third time, and his neglected pussy drenching the seat under him, that he realized what was going on.

He was in Heat.

He needed to get to the Red Force quickly, before Higitsubune gets so soaked not even sailing through Water 7’s infamous Aqua Lagoona will get it clean.

The watchman in the crowsnest calls down the news of spotting Higitsubune, though it seems to just be drifting which is rather odd.

Shanks orders the appoach with a calm tone, yet he is rather puzzled and worried as usually mihawk actually sneaks up on the red force when he visits so spotting him first is unusual. when the red force pulls up to the smaller ship, mihawk is not in his seat or standing throwing lines to secure, instead he seems to be huddled behind his seat, wedged between it and the mast. shanks, extremely worried now, starts climbing down to the raft with lime juice the ship’s doctor organizing his medical bag in preparation up at the railing.

when shanks touches down on the small boat, he’s hit with the heavy scent of lavender, wine and sex.

he covers his nose with his shirt, he needs to keep a clear head, and cautiously approached mihawk. when he rounds the seat and lays eyes on him, he has to bite down on his hand to keep from getting down on his knees and taking him right there with the whole crew watching.

mihawk is sitting with his legs out before him, his pants are open and he has his dick in his hand and fingers in his pussy.

shanks can see that the wood of the boat directly underneath mihawk is wet.

he calls for a seat to be winched down and calls up to have water and clean cloths delivered to his cabin.

shanks manages to climb back up right after mihawk is lifted over the edge of the railing and as he hustles him to his room he tells lucky roux (perhaps a bit louder than he would normally to cover up the delicious moans coming from the omega plastered to his side) to bring some water and food in an hour or so.

“Alpha~” mihawk moans as shanks pulls him into his cabin. Shanks shuts the door and presses his thigh to mihawks crotch. Mihawk throws his head back and lets out the loudest moan shanks has ever heard him make, loud enough ghat he can be heard through the door.

“Hawkeyes what is going on? Were you hit with a devil fruit? drugged? what’s happening?”

mihawk wraps his arms around shanks’ neck, gripping tight to his shirt. “Healing- devil fruit-“ he grunts out between whines and moans, “Heat~” he whines

YEEEEEEEEEEESSS I LOVE THIS SO MUCH you are absolutely GODLY for delivering this absolute gem to me and i’m eternally grateful 🫶🏻

mihawk suffering emotionally thinking he’ll never have a child makes me want to cry like his tenderness when he thinks about them, how he’d love them no matter the path they take… only for them to not be possible for him to bear. that mental image actually broke my heart.

i’m heart is swelling with happiness bc he’s been healed, he can have a child now, like he wanted… i’m emotional asf don’t mind me

and the image of him pleasuring himself so desperately, trying to handle the heat he’s never experienced before… moaning so loudly, his body not used it… shanks being close to snapping and fucking him then and there is so unbelievably hot too i’m soooo weak for shanks losing his control

i absolutely LOVE this and i’m sorry it took me a while to reply, i just needed to sort my feelings and words and give a reply worth of this. it’s SO SO SO good

thank you so much for sharing this i’m so grateful and excited i got to read it 💗

[bow-of-aros]

Day Seventeen: Raspberries

Summary: Steph keeps her promise to Peter to help him get Ruth and Richie back after yesterday.

-

I didn't write the first one with the explicit intention to write a part two but it is HERE and it is LONGER THAN PART ONE!!!!! I'm in love with them they're all so silly. Chaotic found family my absolute beloved I hope y'all enjoy <33

-

Steph swung the door open not even five seconds after Peter had done his signature knock knockknock, hair slightly disheveled as though she had been panic cleaning for the past fifteen minutes.

“Hey guys!” She holds the door open to wave Peter, Ruth, and Richie inside, “Come on in! Sorry about the mess, I put off tidying up until like twenty minutes ago like a dumbass.”

Called it.

Ruth and Richie went in first. Steph offers Richie a fistbump and a promise to practice their secret handshake later, then wraps Ruth up in a big hug that leaves her beaming.

Peter marvelled at how easily Steph had seemed to fit into their little group. She’d adapted to Richie’s anime obsession and Ruth’s need to constantly be in contact with someone with the sort of dedication that Peter brought to his study sessions.

It was something out of a dream to see how well they all got along.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Steph wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing him on the cheek.

“Hey, babe.” A soft smile pulled at her lips as she looked up at him and he felt himself grinning in response.

“Hey, Steph.”

It was all still a little surreal. Peter was dating the mayor’s daughter. And she was awesome!

And they were in love with each other, as in she loved him back!

A squeeze to his side had him yelping and curling around her hand before looking up at Steph with questioning eyes.

“Where’d you go, Pete? You were off in la la land for a minute there.” She waggled her eyebrows at him, “Thinking about anything particularly exciting?”

He’s always thought that honesty is the best policy.

“I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you and how it feels like you were the missing piece of our group, and now everything feels a little more whole.”

Silence rang for a moment as a pleased flush crept up Steph’s face.

“GAAAYYYYYYY!”

Yeah, he really was pushing his luck with that one.

“Shut the fuck up, Ruth!” Richie’s voice sounded from the living room which was presumably where they both were, eavesdropping, “Let them be gay in peace!”

Peter and Steph rolled their eyes at each other at their friends’ antics, laughing as muffled bickering inevitably started making its way towards them.

“Let’s go join them before they actually kill each other.”

They started making their way to the living room before Steph grabbed his arm and said, “And, for the record, there are days when I cannot believe how lucky I am. Yeah, for meeting Richie and Ruth and the chaos that comes with them, but mostly for meeting you, Pete.”

She laughs, running a hand through her hair, “Shit, I don’t even want to think about depressing my life would be if I hadn’t asked you to help me cheat on that biology test.”

And with that, plus a quick kiss to his jaw, she skipped away, leaving Peter slack-jawed and red-faced, trying desperately not to melt into a puddle on the spot.

“Come on Peter! We’re ordering pizza and then we’re gonna play Mario Party!”

Ruth’s voice spurred his brain back into semi-working order and he nearly tripped over his own feet in his scramble to the couch.

He made sure to throw himself on top of both Richie and Ruth, jabbing them with bony elbows and knees as he clambered in between Steph and Richie. Steph is in the middle of ordering the pizza, so Peter just leans back against Richie and reaches a hand across his lap to rest it on Ruth’s arm, smothering a laugh at her little bounce of excitement.

“And done!” Steph turns to them, “The pizza should be here in about thirty minutes, so we got some time to kill.”

“Should we set up Mario Party?” Ruth leaned out from beside Richie with hopeful eyes, careful not to dislodge Peter’s hand on her arm.

“Actually,” Peter could feel Richie tense beside him, knowing where this was going but refusing to move so that he wouldn’t upset Ruth, “I think I remember promising Peter something yesterday. So, Ruth?”

Ruth perked up, a nervous smile already spreading across her face, “Uh, yeah?”

Steph’s grin turned wicked, “I think that you should start running.”

They’d both taken off before she’d even finished her sentence, leaving Peter to wrestle Richie down on his stomach.

“Peter! Pete! You don’t have to do this, man!”

Richie’s plea was punctuated by a shriek from somewhere in the house followed by peals of frantic laughter.

Peter cracked his knuckles before reaching down to rub them into the back of Richie’s ribs.

“What? This?” He had to raise his voice to be heard above Richie’s squeals, “This is revenge, Richie! He who shows no mercy will receive none in return!”

And, yeah, maybe he was being a little dramatic, but after the shit that Richie had pulled yesterday, Peter was having a pretty hard time feeling bad about it.

“How’s it going in here Pete?” Steph walked back into the living room pulling a stumbling, giggling Ruth alongside her. “Having fun?”

“Oh yeah, totally!” He replied, giving rapid-fire squeezes to Richie’s sides to hear the hysteric little squeaks he let out. “How about you?”

Steph pulled Ruth down beside her on the loveseat next to the couch, casually clawing her nails into Ruth’s stomach and speaking over the resulting shriek.

“I’m having a good time. I figured you’d want to help out with some of the revenge since it’s your revenge. So, what do you say, Pete, where do I go from here?”

She gestured at Ruth who looked up pleadingly at Peter.

“Nohohoho! Don’t say anythihihihing! I’ll stop complaining about you winning at Super Smash Bros!”

Peter hummed thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on Richie’s back to give him a bit of a breather while still keeping him on edge. Steph seemed entertained by his dramatics, and when has that been anything but encouraging?

He made direct eye contact with Ruth but directed his next words to Steph, “If you trace her wrists and her forearms really lightly, she’ll start screaming.”

Ruth started babbling half-hearted pleas for mercy that everybody could tell she didn’t mean, and Peter added, “Brace yourself because it will be loud. You have been warned.”

Steph’s nails touched down and Peter was immediately proven right as Ruth’s shriek seemed to rattle the glass around them. Steph’s delighted laugh was nearly drowned out, but her, “Huh. This is definitely a new one. Never hurts to have a kill-switch though,” certainly wasn’t.

Richie’s sudden attempt to buck his way out of Peter’s hold nearly succeeded due to his being distracted by Steph’s apparently evil tendencies and Ruth’s whining cackles as she desperately tried to pull her arm away.

“Oh no you don’t!” He used Richie’s momentum to flip him over to his back, making sure to immediately shove Richie’s hands under his knees and press down on them to prevent any attempts at turning the tables.

“Hey, Steph!” Peter called over, “Richie and I have basically known each other our entire lives since my brother and his uncle work together, do you wanna see his kill-switch?”

At those words, Steph’s eyes lit up at the same moment that Richie’s went wide and he started kicking out, hitting nothing but the arm of the couch.

“Hell yeah I do—”

“No! Nonononono Pete, you can’t do this to me! We’re best friends you can’t kill me!”

Richie stared up at him with his best puppy dog eyes, something that he would normally give in to if he didn’t have a girlfriend to impress.

Peter just pouted back at him, “Aw but Richie, I can’t disappoint Steph!”

And without giving him the chance to respond, Peter pushed his shirt up to his ribs, leaned down, and planted a raspberry right on his stomach.

Steph and Ruth actually clapped their hands around their ears at the scream that he let out but Peter, who’s dealt with his fair share of Richie’s bloodcurdling screeches, just took in another deep breath and leaned back down.

The second scream wasn’t as deafening as the first, and Peter could tell that Richie was getting tired, so he figured that he’d let him off the hook.

“So. Are you sorry about yesterday?”

When Richie took too long to answer, Peter started leaning back down again, and he basically tripped over his own tongue trying to get the words out.

“YES! I’m sohohohohorry! Petey plehehehease I’m dyhihihing!”

“Annnnndddd will you do my functions homework for the next week?”

“Peter!” Steph chided, “Cheating is wrong.”

They all froze for a moment before cracking up and Peter rolled off of Richie and held out a hand to help him up.

Instead of using it to pull himself up, Richie pulled Peter down on top of him. Instead of a counter-attack like he’d been expecting, Richie just wrapped his arms around Peter and yawned very loudly.

Right in his face.

“Dude, gross! I don’t need your nasty-ass breath in my face.” But instead of doing anything about it, Peter just relaxed into his hold.

This beautiful moment was broken by a camera flash going off and Steph exclaiming, “Awwwww! My cute boyfriend with his cute boyfriend! Fucking precious.”

The sarcasm had a genuine edge to it, but they both still flipped her matching birds.

“GERONIMO!” Was the only warning they got before Ruth came crashing down on top of them and, despite getting the wind knocked out of them, they shuffled around to make room for her on the increasingly crowded couch.

Ding-dong!

“That’s probably the pizza,” The trio stared at Steph for a moment, “Which I will be getting. There better be room on that couch for me when I get back!”

They lay there in silence for a moment before Ruth sighed, “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, Ruth.”

“And I love Steph. She’s awesome.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, “She is pretty cool, huh?”

The overlapping groans from his friends only stoked the warmth in his chest as he squeezed them closer.

That’s when Steph skipped into view, pizza boxes in hand, “I have pizza!”

As they untangled themselves, Peter looked up at the girlfriend he was in love with, surrounded by the friends who made him feel whole, and knew that he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

[sailing-through-hawkins]

Part 1 ✧ Part 2 ✧ Part 3 ✧ Part 4 (finale) of Harrington Charms Hellfire ✧ AO3

Sometimes Steve thinks the real Upside-Down is his life before any of it really happened, before the demogorgon, before Will going missing, before he ever even met Robin, because that life feels like such a distant memory it might as well be a completely different person's.

In the moments between all the chaos and yelling and laughing, when everyone's quiet and like, content? It hits him harder than any punch (obviously not any punch given all his experience with getting them, but he's allowed to exaggerate when he has Dustin, Robin, Erica and Eddie being dramatic as possible around him every single day) that this wasn't always his life.

He didn't always know the best way to bribe Dustin was by offering to take him to the diner with the most expensive fucking fries but totally worth the price.

He didn't always answer the phone to find Erica calling him up for another round of ice cream at the Sinclairs' while she goes on and on about how Chelsea has betrayed her by cozying up to Valerie after they already made a pact about it.

He didn't always have Robin gently reminding him about people's names and their plans for the week and what he had that morning because fuck, did he have breakfast? Robin, what - ("We had pancakes and that gross syrup you buy even though I keep telling you it's not sweet enough, which means I have to use like half the bottle in one go -")

It's pretty weird to think about. That all of that is some kind of after instead of an always. It's nice.

He could do without the repeated banging on his front door though. Like why do none of his people know how to knock?

"Ready to have your mind blown, Stevie?" Eddie Munson stands outside his house with a wide grin and guitar hanging over his back like a weapon. It kind of is, in some ways.

"Get in here, jackass," Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie cackles his way through the door and straight to the couch in the sunroom ("What does that even mean, sunroom? Who has a sunroom?! If it's facing the pool, shouldn't it be the poolroom? Give me answers, whoever constructed this hellish house!") without so much as a hug. He shuts the door and trails after the madman. "What, no 'hi Steve, nice to see you, thanks for letting me come over'?"

Eddie whips around with a manic grin and wild eyes. "Haven't you heard? Chivalry is dead, sweetheart."

He has such pretty eyes, Steve thinks idly as Eddie carefully takes off his guitar and jumps into the couch, the kind he really likes looking at in moments of peace and quiet. Sometimes they go big and wide and Eddie pulls a lock of hair over his mouth, but that doesn't hide the way his whole face flushes pink when Steve really leans in.

It's not something he actually knows about Eddie, but Steve does know that he - well, he likes Eddie.

"You said he was glaring at Frank after he gave you that Star Trek thing."

"I mean yeah, but that could have been for anything, maybe they fought before I came 'round or something."

"Hmm, true, but I am personally inclined to the idea that he was jealous."

"You just want to make fun of him."

"Absolutely I do."

Steve shakes his head and walks over to knock Eddie on his head, laughing when he immediately pouts up at him. "It's lunchtime, Munson, and we agreed to eat first before you pull me into one of your 'artist moments'."

Gasping, Eddie immediately launches into the same lecture he does every time Robin makes fun of how focused he is while writing out a campaign idea ("Can you believe we used to know nothing about this stuff? And now it's like, saved our lives and we play it every other week. Who even are we?"). Steve walks on to the kitchen as Eddie raves behind him and doesn't even bother pushing down the fondness in his chest, the fondness he knows is written all over his face.

Yeah, Steve and Robin are pretty sure he's like, totally in love with Eddie at this point. It probably should be a bigger deal than it is but honestly, a couple years surviving another apocalypse and being distrustful of most authority figures (including but not at all exclusive to the American fucking government) really puts that kinda shit into perspective.

"Robin, how do you ask a guy out?"

"Gee, that's a great question, I hope I never have to find out."

"...you were the wrong person to ask this."

"No shit, Stevie."

So yeah, Steve's in love with Eddie Munson and the whole world's gonna know about it.

Because he has a plan.

Step one: get the guy to come over for lunch - easily accomplished once Steve promises to make his pizza casserole, a Buckley-exclusive recipe until today (with said Buckley's approval of course, because it's the fanciest thing Steve can do without fucking up like three times in a row).

Step two: use said lunch as a way to make easy conversation and settle nerves - already in action, just need to get his oven mitts on first.

"Oh my god," Eddie moans when Steve pulls the casserole out of the oven, the melted cheese and crusted pasta looking delicious, way to go, Harrington. "Oh fuck, that smells so fucking good, oh my god."

Steve laughs, quickly setting the dish down and poking it with a fork so his face has time to cool down. "Buckley approved and Munson sanctioned, huh?"

"Jesus Christ, let me at it -" Eddie reaches for the dish, hands squeezing mid-air before Steve slaps them both, mitts and all. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"Have some fucking patience, man." Steve sets the casserole onto the trivet ("Our latest word of the week!") and carries the whole thing to the dining room. He calls out behind him before Eddie can even walk, "And bring over the plates from the sink, they're clean."

"No shit!" Eddie calls back and Steve just laughs again when he walks into the dining room with the plates held up over his head, knees and arms bending awkwardly like he's some sort of gangly creature with zero limb coordination. He sets down the plates with a bow and in a weird voice croaks, "Your plates, my liege."

Steve looks at the gremlin of a man in front of and his heart beats once, twice, saying 'yes, this one, this one too, please.'

"Okay, Smeagol," he snorts and jumps when Eddie smacks his shoulder. "Dude, what the hell, I'm -"

"Since when do you read Lord of the Rings?!" Eddie smacks his shoulder again when he rolls his eyes. "That reference is way too obscure for you to just know!"

The casserole is firm enough that he can lift a piece to a nearby plate with zero casualties, but he still doesn't take his eyes off it for a second. "Dustin and Lucas talk about it all the time, even Max does the whole 'my precious' thing. It's not that obscure."

"Steve Harrington," Eddie shakes his head and Steve sighs when both plates are set, the rest of the casserole intact. "You are something else, man."

When Steve turns around, he's struck by how fond Eddie's eyes are, staring at him, smiling at him, sweet and soft. It's heady, makes him smile back, makes him forget every step of his plan, makes him lean in. Eddie doesn't flinch, eyes fixed on him, but does inhale sharply when Steve takes his hand, slowly settling his fingers between Eddie's until they're holding hands warmly, gently, lovely.

"Steve?" Eddie murmurs, eyes flitting all over Steve's face like he's tracking every spot, mole and freckle he can find.

And that right there is what gives Steve the courage to say, "Look, I -"

Brrrrrrng!

Which is exactly why the doorbell rings. Because when Steve is brave, the universe just has to keep pushing him to find the limit of his patience too. God damn it.

"Be right back," he sighs, letting go of Eddie's hand to pat him on the shoulder with a weak smile. Eddie doesn't seem to mind, staring down at his hand like it has the answers to the universe. He walks to the door when the doorbell rings yet again. "Don't start without me."

Eddie doesn't reply and Steve sighs again, opening the door with a tilted head at whoever - "Harrington!"

Steve blinks and tilts his head even more. "Frankie? What's up, man?"

"It's time to discuss." Frank stands tall in his doorway, holding up what looks like a giant roll of paper under his arm. Steve doesn't even want to know what the plastic bag in his hand has. Frank glances around, as if there's anybody else out here, and his voice drops to a whisper. "We need a plan on how you're going to woo Eddie."

Eyes widening, Steve quickly shuts the door and shoves Frank away from the entrance ("I may have the pointy elbows but you've got the strong arms, so together our jabs would be like unstoppable!") . He glances back at the house, relieved when Eddie doesn't come shooting out at the very sensitive information. "What the hell, dude?"

"Listen to me," Frank continues, leaning against Steve's car as if he's not being cornered, setting Steve's teeth on a grind. "Procrastinating this is not the solution, and if you really want to court him properly -"

"Do you have to say it like that?!" Steve runs a hand through his hair. He should have known this would happen and he still got cocky. Fuck. "Look, this is stupid, I'm -"

"Strategy is never stupid, Harrington," Frank seethes, poking his chest harshly. Fuck, what's his deal with using last names anyway? "You want to ask Eddie out, so you asked Hellfire for aid. And our aid is about coordination, patience and a step-by-step tactical journey that includes failsafes for every occasion."

"Oh joy," Steve snorts. He crosses his arms and leans on one leg ("You're the one who said it's our bitchiest move! Besides, it always works, doesn't it?"), eyebrows raised high. "Look, I appreciate the help, but considering the fact that I've literally got Eddie in my house right now, I think I'm doing just fine."

"He's what?!" Frank's smug face turns pale and he whips a glance at the house before slapping Steve's arm with a hiss. "And you're mentioning this only now?! I had to take a bus here man!"

"Ow!" Steve glares back, rubbing the spot. It's basically nothing, barely a sting, but he feels the need to make a show of it to prove a point ("Oh my god, you have been hanging out with Eddie too much, he's infected you - fight it, Stevie! Only you and I can infect each other!"). "I would have said it earlier if someone hadn't -"

"Shh!" Frank rudely smacks Steve's arm again, the prick, and gives a...nervous smile to the house?

"What -" Steve turns around to find Eddie's glare through the window before it quickly turns to surprise and disappears. Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, god fucking damn it. "Okay, well, this conversation is over because now I need to do damage control before any wooing."

Frank nods with a wince. "Perhaps...I could have called first."

"Perhaps," Steve mocks before letting out a laugh and patting Frankie's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, man, I'll just tell him you were trying to start another fight about the tribbles and fuzzies."

"It's a valid -"

"Frankie," Steve says sternly and watches amusedly when Frank deflates.

He still squints and pokes Steve's chest again. "Next time. You owe me the bus fare. Twice."

"Bring food over," Steve calls out as Frank starts to walk away. "I'm not cooking for you if I have to pay!"

"Eat shit, Harrington!"

And Steve laughs and laughs because he finally feels so light after all this time. With a sigh, he makes his way back to the house, startling when Eddie's face in the window makes another appearing-disappearing act.

Huh.

Well, in Eddie's defense, it's pretty suspicious that Frank came over with a roll of paper and bag of markers, right?

"Eds?" Steve walks in, a smile growing when he sees Eddie lying on the stairs in the most unnatural position possible, stretched out with one hand holding up his head and his leg crooked up on the other knee. He lets out a laugh when Eddie blinks at him. "Comfortable?"

"One hundred percent," Eddie croaks, sliding down the stairs, Jesus it's like he's made of liquid, until he's a pouting puddle on the floor. "Why'd Frank come over? I didn't tell him I was here."

"Eh," Steve shrugs, holding out a hand and, when he takes it in his own, pulling Eddie up. "Thought he could finally prove his conspiracy theory about the tribbles again."

Eddie doesn't reply, eyes flickering down to their hands, warm and connected. Steve purposefully doesn't make a remark or snatch his hand away the way the small, dark corner of his brain is insisting he should ("I think it's time we both stop listening to our dark corners, huh? I'll be your light if you'll be mine."), casually making his way back to the dining room. Something glows in his chest when Eddie's hand squeezes just enough for him to feel, before Steve squeezes back and lets it go so he can pull out a chair.

"Ready to have your tastebuds blown away?"

With a gulp and a very quick shake, Eddie grins at him before dropping into the chair. He squirms around until he settles, legs stretched out and hands behind his head, looking up at Steve with that same, wide grin. "I'm always ready for a Harrington Feast."

"Ew," Steve wrinkles his nose as he gently pushes the chair in, making his way over to the one directly opposite Eddie. "Yeah no, we're not doing that."

"But Harrington Habits -"

"I'm going to punch Gareth next time he says that," Steve grumbles. "I don't care how many movies he wants to try out."

It's honestly a little flattering how quickly Gareth warmed up to Steve after the whole 'Grease' thing, hell, the kid even asked (very angrily and with zero eye contact) if Steve knew how to style his hair to look like Danny Zuko's a couple weeks back. Steve had to take a minute before agreeing but then had to coax him out of the look when it very clearly wasn't working, and offered to help him look for a jacket like Danny's instead.

Nobody knows why or when exactly Hellfire started to mellow out against Steve ("I can't believe all it took was some music, movies and cookies, I'm gonna lose my mind! We should try getting Mrs Byers to invite us for dinner with that charm of yours."). Mike still suspects it started after he offered to host their next game night (they didn't take him up on the offer but Eddie barely took his big shiny eyes off him for the rest of the evening, so it was totally worth asking) but Dustin claims he just wore them down with his "- dad energy, Steve, I had to stop you from wearing your fanny pack to the pool."

Excuse him, Dustin, if El might need tissues in case of a nosebleed or if Robin gets another papercut on something that isn't even paper and needs a band-aid or -

Oh.

Oh god, he's the goddamn babysitter by instinct now, fuck.

"Steve," Eddie says as solemnly as he can with a giant piece of baked macaroni in his mouth. "This is fucking heaven."

Trying his best not to preen, Steve smiles and nods as he takes another bite. But apparently, Eddie isn't finished.

"No, seriously, this is like, if an angel stuffed liquid gold into my hands and told me I could chug it. I'm not even -"

"Dude," Steve laughs. "What does that even mean?"

"You think I know?!" Eddie says, his lips twitching like he's holding back his own laugh. "I'm just the messenger here!"

He doesn't know how they made it through lunch because Eddie kept pulling out stories and jokes that got Steve laughing so hard, he literally choked and needed five minutes just to breathe normally again ("Come on, Stevie, keep breathing for me, match me, come on, don't make me panic too -"). It's like he was doing his best to make Steve lose his shit.

Which.

Huh.

Interesting thought to come back to later, because step two has been completed.

On to step three: clean up lunch together as an excuse to be physically close and make some gentle, casual touches.

Casual, because outright holding his hand might be jumping ahead ("I feel like our impulse control gets better when we're together. Wha - that doesn't count, we were high off surviving the apocalypse and she was very pretty!"), and Steve definitely doesn't want to scare Eddie off.

"I am no coward!" Eddie declares, shoving his hands straight into the sink and under the running water as he turns his nose up at Steve. "If the dishes need be done, then they shall be done, good sir, so sweareth I, noble -"

"Oh my god, just start washing, y'goose," Steve lightly shoves at his shoulder and no surprise that step three is already going well, he's just that good at strategy, thanks Frankie. He picks up the already-washed cup and uses the towel he slapped onto his own shoulder to dry it off. "I don't know how you keep pulling those monologues out of nowhere like that."

"Observation, imitation and practice," Eddie says smugly, wiggling in place as he works on the plates. "It's not all pure talent, y'know, I gotta work at it."

"Ha ha," Steve rolls his eyes, barely able to keep his smile in. He nudges Eddie's shoulder once, lets him nudge back, does it again and repeat, until he just lets his shoulder rest against Eddie's. "Thanks for coming over, man."

"'S no problem," Eddie lightly shrugs his other shoulder. "I...like hanging out. With you."

Steve pauses. There's no "I know, crazy right?" or "The Hair and the Freak, who'da thunk?" or "But don't get sappy on me!" that follows.

There's just him and Eddie, side-to-side. There's gentle sunlight streaming in through the window and it makes his rings shine and there's -

"Eddie, what the fuck, you didn't take your rings off?!"

Without a second thought, Steve grabs his hands out of the water and immediately does a headcount (or is it a ringcount? Whatever, doesn't matter), drying off Eddie's hands with the not-damp side of the towel. None of them got lost ("You keep track of his rings? Stevie - no, that's different, stop turning your gay - sorry - bisexual pining on me!"), so he carefully dabs at them to let the shine through.

That's when it occurs to him that there is, in fact, a person attached to these rings.

Ah.

"I, uh -" Steve coughs. "If you're gonna help with the dishes - I mean, we wouldn't wanna lose any of these, right?"

Peeking up at Eddie, who's entire face is flushed pink, staring straight ("Haha, straight. What? Let me have this -") at him, Steve feels something roll through under his skin, making him stand taller, making his face relax, making him feel like - (You can do this, dingus. I believe in you.")

"Here," Steve says softly, pulling a ring off Eddie's pointer finger slowly, waiting for a refusal. When he peeks back up at Eddie, he's still frozen, wide eyed and blinking repeatedly. He gently pulls off the ring from his middle and ring fingers, and holds the silver collection up in the palm of his hand. "Keep them safe."

Frozen, Eddie doesn't say anything.

"Eddie?" It's impossible to hold back his smirk at this point, even harder not to let it widen when Eddie's eyes snap to his lips. "Did you want me to keep them?"

Before he can put them in his pocket, Eddie snatches them out of his hand and shoves the rings into his own pocket, the noise of clacking metal apparently breaking the spell. He squeaks out an, "All good, Stevie!" and quickly goes back to the sink to shove his hands under the water.

See, that would normally hurt, the idea that Steve's touch needed - needed to be washed off. But he saw Eddie's eyes, his expression whenever Steve touches his skin. That's not disgust.

Nah, that's not disgust at all actually.

Steve smiles as he watches Eddie curse when he almost drops a fork, hair bouncing against the sunlight so prettily. He lightly glides up behind Eddie, gathering the curls together, humming when Eddie freezes again.

"Uh -"

"Can I tie it up?"

Eddie seems to take a moment. "Sure," he says quietly.

Continuing to hum, Steve runs a hand through Eddie's hair, coaxing away any little tangles and knots. It's nice to see he's been keeping up with the new routine he and Mike have started together, even if it took Robin's horror stories of hair damage (which were definitely exaggerated just so she could see Mike's face) to get them to think about it. Once he's got all of Eddie's hair held up, he takes his time getting a hair tie out of his back pocket ("What if I need one and I forget? Or Erica? Or Max? Or -") so that he can stare at the nape of his neck, pale but littered with little pink scars.

How pretty can one guy be? Every little part of him, every expression, every -

And then the phone rings.

What the hell.

"For the record," Steve says before he finally ties up Eddie's hair into a bun that hangs low on his head. He starts slowly stepping away and out of the kitchen. "I like hanging out with you too, Eddie."

Speed walking his way to the phone, Steve lets it ring a few more times, taking in quiet and deep breaths because holy shit, did he just do that? He just did that ("I can't believe you fucking did that, oh my god. I mean - I always believed in you!").  With a grin and a glow in his chest that spreads across his veins like some kind of magic high, he answers the phone.

"Harrington Residence -"

"Steve!" Jeff's voice sounds winded and his heartbeat is already racing fast.

"What's wrong, are you okay?" His blood on fire, ready to hit back, where're the bad guys, his axe, where's his axe -

Jeff swallows a deep breath. "Yeah, no, yeah, yeah I'm fine. I wanted to warn you about Frank."

Steve blinks, moves the phone away to stare at it, before putting it back to his ear. "Why, what did he do?"

"He said he was coming over to help with that thing even though you said you'd handle it, and I know you're meeting up with you-know-who so like, be alert."

His eye is twitching. Fuck, he better not be getting a headache today, it's his day off to chill for once, he deserves better than this. "He already came by, dude. He just left like an hour ago."

Jeff swears colorfully enough that it relieves the tension of Steve's shoulders when he laughs. "That motherfucker lied to me, he said he was coming by for dinner."

"He probably knew you were gonna warn me," Steve grins as quiet sounds of plates and cupboards echo out from the kitchen. "Why are you even warning me anyways? I mean I know I backtracked but it was pretty neat of him to try helping out anyways.

"'Pretty neat' he says. God, Harrington, you're such a dad," Jeff teases and it's one of those rare times the joke makes Steve laugh without shame.

Out of everyone in Steve's life, Jeff is one of few who don't make Steve feel so bad about wanting a big family ("Platonic soulmates excluded, of course, right?"). Maybe it's because he gets it, especially after Trey had moved out so quickly. He gets how a house can be lonely without a bunch of family filling up the space.

Jeff hesitates. "Like I said, I know you wanted some alone time today." His voice softens to a murmur and Steve can't help but run a hand through his hair, fidgeting with a lock at the back of his neck. It's getting so long now. It makes him think of Eddie's nape, warm and so pale against the black of his hair but still so alive. "You said you were gonna make a move."

"I -" Steve blows out a breath, cupping his own neck and staring out the window into the greenery outside. The sunlight really does make everything look so much warmer. Alive. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. Today, actually."

"That's great!" Jeff whispers excitedly and Steve just laughs again. "Shit, okay, I should let you get back to it then. I'll phone Wayne for your check-in too, good luck man!"

"Thanks, Jeff. That...means a lot." Steve smiles. "Talk to you later."

Setting the phone against the wall ("You think you're so fancy with your wall phone, Harrington?! ...Yeah, you are, it's pretty cool actually. Should we crank call Hopper or would that be like, a crime?") feels like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders. Alive, safe, well.

The approval of Eddie's friends isn't exactly something he'd expected to want or to get really, but they keep surprising him. Even Wayne's been really supportive of Steve in general, always trusting him to take care of their people, even if he does ask everyone to check-in with him whenever Eddie visits. Sometimes the paranoia doesn't lift up and Steve definitely isn't going to give the man grief about it when he understands.

With a nod, Steve turns back to the kitchen and stops when he sees Eddie, who quickly stumbles back on the kitchen door when he tries hiding.

"Ow." Eddie rubs his elbow with a wince. He quickly hops along the wall to get to the sun room. "Pay no attention to the man behind - uh - out of the kitchen?"

"Eddie," Steve laughs as he follows, the panic of hurt, he's hurt, find him, bring him home, keep him safe fading away. "Eddie, wait, what were you even -"

"Upupup!" Eddie plugs his fingers into his ears and starts chanting. Steve has to lunge when he almost bangs his hip against the doorframe to pull him to the side instead. With a groan, Eddie hides his face in his hands. "Can we pretend none of that happened and that I was on my way to get my guitar without eavesdropping?"

"Nope," Steve says cheerfully, dragging Eddie along by hooking an arm over his shoulder. "I'm gonna be using that for weeks."

"Well excuuuuse me," Eddie squints, dropping down to pick up his guitar and sling it over one shoulder. "If I just wanna know why Jeff would be calling right after a house call from Frankie. You planning something I don't know about?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. It's just some new tracks," Steve pats his shoulder and saunters his way to the stairs. "Now come on, you promised me a show."

It's silent, no footsteps, no quip, so Steve turns back just in case.

"Huwha?"

Yup, same flushed cheeks. Looks like his plan is working perfectly. Steve smiles, turns back around and makes his way up the staircase. It's almost time for the final step - actually fucking saying something.

He's got this. Right? ("Right.")

"So," Steve starts as they walk into his bedroom ("Keep your cool, keep it together, do not fuck this up - but also no pressure, this is a big step -"). "What exactly were you gonna show me anyways? All you said was a melody and -"

"Upupup," Eddie says, placing his hands on Steve's shoulders and walking him back towards his bed, where he ends up tripping on to. "Woah, shit! You okay?"

Shaking his head, Steve just laughs. The giddiness has finally cracked open in his chest, all his feelings floating up like - like they're in his blood, pouring out of him. "All good. You're that excited, huh?"

"Don't think you can trick me," Eddie pokes a finger at Steve's forehead, both hands coming down to rest at Steve's shoulders as he lightly shakes him. "This is very important, Harrington, no distractions or interruptions, alright?"

Steve lets his hands glide back behind him on the bed, leaning back on them and tilting his head. With a soft smile (practiced and well-worn with the amount of times he's used it for Robin, Max, Dustin, Erica, Eddie), he leans on his hands behind him, watching Eddie's cheeks turn pink in real time. "Alright. Impress me, Munson."

It takes a second, Eddie fumbling with his guitar and his jacket, his eyes flickering back to Steve before snapping away, but eventually he spins around and sits on the floor, leaning against the bed. Without the leather (a gift from Dustin, with Mike and Steve's help, that made Eddie cry that day, no matter how much he denies it), he looks smaller. His white shirt isn't thick enough, lets Steve see the skin underneath, the wounds and scars.

With a sigh, Steve brushes a hand along Eddie's shoulder, lets the warmth sink in -

"Woah!" Eddie chokes, twitching in place, shaking Steve's hand off. "I said no interruptions, my good sir!"

"Sorry," Steve says genuinely, totally went a bit far there, that's fair. He clears his throat and shuffles to lie down along the bed instead, careful not to hit Eddie with his feet ("You've gotten enough concussions for all of us, so it's my job to make sure it doesn't happen again, as your best friend and soulmate because I am not losing you.") and settles on his side. "Go ahead, I'm listening."

Eddie takes a deep breath, readjusts his guitar, tunes it, strumming and adjusting and tuning and looping over and over - "Okay, uh, could you like - uh, not like, stare at me? I mean, not - I'm just - uh, nervous I guess."

With a blink, Steve says, "'Course, man. Take your time," and reshuffles so he's staring up at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars he put up with Dustin are still up there. They don't glow that much but he thinks they're bright enough for him.

"Thanks," Eddie murmurs and clears his throat. With one final deep breath, he starts playing and...

It's good. It's great actually. Steve doesn't know much about music ("You're surrounded by musicians! You play music when you - you know, do the thing! I bet you know way more than you think."), but the melody is slower than he expected, less head-banging and more...just looking at his stars.

He lets his head turn so he can watch Eddie play, the little bun of hair pulled up higher than when he tied it up. It isn't anything special, but it makes the cracked-open glow in Steve's chest burn brighter, melt out of his ribcage like some kind of radioactive goop that he doesn't bother scooping back inside. Not when it feels like this.

The sunlight is dimmer now, but it shines over Steve's legs onto the back of Eddie, casting a shadow on the bedroom floor.

With that thought, the melody ends and Eddie turns a little in his spot to stare at Steve. He looks nervous, the light outside keeping him bright and Steve can't look away. "So, uh, what - what'd ya think?"

It isn't that easy, describing music. Usually Steve sticks to whatever makes him feel good, sometimes just whatever makes him feel in general. But this felt -

"That was amazing, Eddie." The words taste awkward on his tongue but it's blown away by the delight in Eddie's face.

"Yeah?! Yeah, I wanted to try something different, after everything, y'know, so I figured, well the world almost ended, maybe going easy for once wouldn't hurt and -"

He goes on. He goes on and smiles at Steve and the sunlight surrounds them and he can't take it anymore.

Sitting up and smoothly shifting back onto the bed, Steve leans over and reaches out. When his hand cups Eddie's jaw, the rambling stops. He stares down, Eddie stares up, the sunlight reaching out between them, and Steve lets out a soft chuckle.

"You're amazing," Steve says, bringing over his other hand so he's gently holding Eddie's face. He doesn't know what he looks like but he knows that in this moment, Eddie is stunning. Big wide eyes, pink flush and a shadow over his face -

Knock knock knock.

"Oh, you are fucking with me -" Steve shouts, leaping off to the other side of the bed to see - "Gareth?!"

"Open - the - window -" The scrawny asshole mouths up at him through the window, one hand wobbling on the frame. Steve has a quick, ruthless thought of pulling the blinds down but it'll never be more than a thought. With a sigh, he opens the window and reaches out, helping Gareth climb through. "Holy shit, that was so scary. How the hell did you do this every night?"

"I -" Steve sputters, shutting the window behind him. "I did not climb through people's windows every night! Just - like, on the occasion! Shut up, what are you even doing here?"

"Okay, so remember when you told me about -"

"Nope!"

Steve and Gareth jump, looking over to find a fuming Eddie, his guitar strewn on the bed and his expression manic.

"Nope, we're not doing this, actually, thanks Gary," Eddie says brightly, grabbing Gareth by the scruff of his shirt and dragging him out of the bedroom. "I'm sure whatever movie or album or debate or whatever you just couldn't wait to talk to Steve about, it actually can and will fucking wait!"

He shuts the door behind the poor kid before spinning around and stomping over to the window, where he pulls the blinds shut so they're left in shadows. Steve stares as Eddie breathes heavily, his shoulders hunched up and hair lifting up and down and -

Then Eddie spins around again, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and staring straight into his eyes.

Steve blinks.

"Listen up, Harrington," Eddie spits out, his glare vividly stuck on Steve's face. "You and I both know this little meet up wasn't just some meet up and I have no fucking clue why my band keeps interrupting us, but I'm going to fucking explode if I don't kiss you right here, right now after a whole fucking day of just - just you."

Steve blinks twice.

Eddie's breathing is still heavy but not harmful, his eyes wide and harsh on Steve's, so dark without the sun, so deep and obscure. His hair is still in the bun, messed up and frazzled as it is, a few curls coming down to brush against his cheek.

He really does light something up in Steve.

"Harrington, I swear -"

"Kiss me," Steve says and -

And he does.

And it's amazing.

Eddie mashes their faces together, knocking Steve's teeth with his own, bumping their noses, gripping Steve's shoulder too tightly.

It's everything.

Steve sighs into the kiss, running a hand up to Eddie's jaw, letting the other coax around Eddie's back and pull him in closer.

It's Eddie.

"Guys?"

With the very audible sound of skin on skin, Steve pulls away, heart fluttering when Eddie sighs and the breath touches his lips. He opens his eyes and stares at Steve, who rests his forehead against his.

Giggling, he shyly says, "Hi."

Steve grins, closing his eyes briefly to nuzzle their noses together. "Hey."

"Sooo," Eddie giggles again. "That was nice."

"Very nice," Steve hums. He strokes a thumb over Eddie's cheek, feeling the heat of the pink against it. "We should do it again."

"Yeah? Yeah, I think so too." Eddie leans in -

"Guys? What's happening?!"

"Gareth, I swear to GOD I am killing off your character," Eddie yells at the door, his arms wrapping around Steve's neck heatedly. It feels amazing. "In fact, I'm killing off all of your characters after the stunts you guys pulled today!"

"Wha - what did we do?! Wait, what did I do?"

"He's right," Steve leans closer, nuzzling Eddie's hair. "They were just trying to -"

"Oh no," Eddie half-heartedly smacks his chest, cheeks still a pretty, pretty pink. "Don't defend them, not when you're the one that used your weird charm on my friends and made them all 'Ooh, Steve this, Steve that' while I was trying not to think about your ass for the fifth time every goddamn day!"

Blinking, Steve smirks. "Think about my ass often, Munson?"

"Shut the fuck up," Eddie glares. "And get back here."

Lucky him, Steve doesn't think he'd want anything else.

if anyone else had wanted to be tagged but wasn't or if i accidentally tagged someone wrongly, my apologies tag list: @ramyayaya @alienace @5pac3g1r7 @emly03 @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @maya-custodios-dionach @elliegrey2803 @bejeweledbaby @blanketlicker @messrs-weasley @estrellami-1 @stillfullofshit

[fleetsonourgecentral]

Um. okay. Yeah, I could go on. Right back at ya, don’t apologize for your long answer either. It’s so nice when someone goes into detail with this kind of stuff.  Thanks for also sharing a few facts of the fleetway emeralds btw. Kinda what started this whole second train of thought.

Archie’s chaos energy isn’t screwed up like the Fleetway universe. True. But still very much insane in terms of power and ability. It’s given to the rise of entities like Perfect Chaos, fused Tikal + Chaos, Enerjak, Chaos Knuckles, and Turbo Tails. And ofc Super forms. Could grant wishes and immortality. Capability to warp time and space to the point of rewriting reality entirely. Which I assume the Super Genesis Wave never happens in your canon thank goodness otherwise RIP to everyone.

…And Scourge took power from the damn Master Emerald. 

So much possibilities for him based on the bonkers lore that is Archie and the potential was squandered. Understandable since he’s not a hero and HAS to lose. That being said, it can be argued in-universe reasons that Scourge is just very ignorant to what he can do. For all his power and speed, he’s simply not pushed to his limits the same way his Prime counterpart was. His skills are not honed as they should be. It’s canon that he doesn’t consider the capabilities/consequences of using power sources or what he ‘can do’ until Sonic spells these things out for him. Your Sonic had to come up with the idea of vibrating through handcuffs in which Scourge latched on the knowledge immediately from there.  Not always the critical thinker but fast learner indeed.

And ah yes, Scourge becoming good this way is terrifying. Characters that forcibly go under personality changes like this has been a long running concept in fictional media and it always hits hard on how horrible it is to have your mind manipulated to the point where you’re no longer you. I guess it’s a questionable last resort for the truly despicable, but for someone like Scourge..…why condemn him to such a fate ? 

Which leads me to another way on what a good Super Scourge would be like. 

As much Super Scourge is nice, starting off, he has a rather simplistic view on the concept of doing good. He’s no killer but lacks the understanding that people are pretty complicated. His first course of action would be to boot Sonic off the team. If Sonic is still stuck with his own Super form then he would forcefully separate Sonic’s Super form from him claiming he’s saving Sonic. Only to be surprised by Sonic still being an ass by default. 

He could be hostile to even pacifistic Super Sonic, simply because chaos energy conflict bullshit, attempt to absorb him.  Overall, it takes time to get a grasp on how not everything is painted black and white. With the added risk of being manipulated too, develop a more warped sense of good, the FF have to be really really vigilant with him on this.

Super Sonic gets more destructive the more chaos energy he absorbs. Super Scourge absorbing more energy, gives him the opportunity to do more good. Absolutely radiating. Then there’s the thought of going off to save other universes. He would leave the fleetway universe continuously absorbing the plentiful chaos energy the multiverse has to offer, not realizing his mission will be an endless one. Cue the bitter tears from Sonic, because that’s gonna be a long daaaayyyy to retrieve him. And probably Sonic spitting some vile words after, since he lacks the ability to cope with loss too well. He’s got the bloody receipts with Porker fully leaving the team & Johnny dying.

Scourge would be torn internally by this too because although it was through involuntary circumstances, he was gonna ‘leave for the greater good’ over Sonic in an eerily similar way his father had chose his peace making work over him.

Assuming the chaos energy works the same as it does to Sonic but with a collision of multi-universe chaos energy mix here, then an Evil Super Scourge wouldn’t be like Sonic’s. He would be truly unpredictable. The embodiment of doing whatever he wants when he wants it. A fickle little shit. Moods like a light switch. No one knows if he means what he says. The scariest thing when dealing with this Super Scourge is that he actually knows what kind of powers he has. Not a universe ender though, can’t ‘enjoy’ life and its chaos if you’re wiping everything off of existence.

Sharing Scourge’s arrogance to the extreme, Super doesn’t look for chaos energy to sustain himself because he always thinks he has enough, so he often burns himself out pretty fast. Other times transforming back would either out of sheer boredom, getting tricked, Scourge shakily taking back control, or seeing Sonic who makes him feel extremely miserable to where he just crumbles.

It could be he’s aware he comes from a Sonic. Triggering a sense of worthlessness for him. Or he has a soft spot for him. Idk. Unpack that suitcase of dynamics with him/FF and psychological issues when you can.

He could be envious of Super Sonic for at least he has consistent things to latch onto even if they’re simple and boring to him. (destroy everything/ live life at the Groovy Train). Because he’d partially share Scourge’s apathy towards things. Think of Anti Sonic when he got apathetic after overthrowing Anti King Max and got everything he wanted in the moment. That’s where I’m getting that aspect from.

As for his opinion on Scourge, bygones are always gonna be bygones since in the end, it was thanks to him he could exist to do what he wants. I also rather see your own interpretation on how he would treat Scourge. Geez imagine the new emotional issues and setbacks. If it’s by will? haha, yeah noo, let’s put a lid on this guy. almost forever. Fuck you Sonic why does your dimension have to be such a shitty plac—

If there’s no risk of transforming into either of these personas, then I like to think Scourge could maybe like re-stabilize the energy in Sonic’s universe one day. Bend the rules a bit with them. He’d be so ecstatic they both transform at will with no consequences (Screaming at the top of his lungs “TAKE THAT PRIME I JUST FIXED A UNIVERSE IN A WAY YOU NEVER COULD AND WE GOT COOL SUPER FORMS OUT OF IT”)  Or be very well be dragged in and consumed by it in a way no one is gonna expect.

sigh, I really wish we knew more about anarchy energy because Scourge is likely made of it originally, and it’s a miracle that the energy he absorbed wasn’t incompatible. The smallest way these energies probably did overlap canonically is through cosmetic change so far, if the whole green to purple invert palette is anything to take away from.

Basically the point is it’s like what Zonic says about Scourge,

“Besides, Scourge’s mutation has made him something of a wild card in the cosmic scheme of things.”

So I very much like that you aren’t planning to stick to one set of rules to how the super forms would work because you’re right. YOU’RE SO RIGHT. There’s no official answers on how all of this would even work! This is the sheer beauty of writing whatever the fuck you want. It’ll be thrilling to see what kind of stories you’d make up with that in mind.

Let Scourge be the cosmic wildcard.

Vibrating at the speed of light at all of this I love it all

I love the idea that Scourge doesn't actually know all the things he's capable of because he doesn't push himself the same way Sonic does, so you're right he very well could have abilities that even he doesn't know about. Would he discover them while in a super form? Or would his super form share his strategy of "brute force the way through everything" and continue to never discover any neat hidden powers? Who knows... good for Sonic if Scourge's super form is evil, though. Super Sonic is already a pain with everything he can do, so while a Super Scourge would also be a pain, it'd be easier if he was oblivious to some of the devastating things he can do

HELP FHJDSHJFDSA SCOURGE DECIDING TO FUCKING BOOT SONIC OFF THE TEAM IS SO FUCKING FUNNY..... SONIC WOULD BE PISSEDDDDD. And the idea of Scourge just fuckin. Sticking his hand in Sonic's chest and yeeting Super out is sending me. Afhdshjafd poor Super though.... already has Sonic questioning him, and now Scourge? He cannot catch a break

Oh my god Scourge flying off to "save the multiverse".... god Sonic would not take that well. You're right, he hates it when people leave him, even when they have good reason to (ie Porker) so for Scourge to leave him? He'd hate it. He has his own dimension to protect, he doesn't have time to care about what's going on in other universes, especially since those other dimensions presumably have their own Sonic to take care of things. I imagine he'd try to hide how hurtful he finds it, though... at least until they finally catch up to Scourge and Scourge puts up a fight and argues about how he doesn't want to go back. And the freedom fighters are desperately trying to tread carefully, because Scourge could bolt at any time and it's such a pain to pin him down, but Sonic would not be as tactful as the rest of their friends. You make a really interesting comparison between Scourge leaving "for the greater good" and the way his father chose peace over him, although I don't know if he'd be in a state to come to that conclusion himself in his super form. As his regular self, definitely, but idk about in a super form. I could absolutely see Sonic spitting that comparison at him, however; he's not above low blows, and Super Scourge isn't the Scourge he knows and loves, so if he's already lashing out, I could absolutely see him making some kind of vile comment about it. Something something "you're becoming just like your daddy, I see" or something along those lines

I love the idea of Super Scourge's arrogance meaning he burns out quickly, because I can absolutely see that happening. I think it would be difficult to trick him into powering down, because as you said, he's a fast learner, and Prime Sonic has already tricked him into powering down once, so he'd notice if the freedom fighters tried that, but I do think it would be possible. I think Sonic would struggle a little with tricking him, not because he's not smart or capable of tricking people, but because he's actually at a disadvantage compared to the rest of the freedom fighters. He's never had to calm someone down from a transformation, after all; the only times he has (to my memory) fought a super form was after he and Super were separated, where Super powering down wasn't an option. The solutions were to trick and trap him, or try and find some way to fight him, so Sonic's knee-jerk reaction is to fight. The rest of the freedom fighters, though? They have experience in this kind of stuff. They've had practice in bringing Sonic down from his super form; the time when Tails managed it by using Sonic's ego against him to trick him into solving the problem for them comes to mind. So they'd already have a few tricks up their sleeves - notably tricks Scourge probably hasn't seen, and thus he'd be more likely to fall for them. I also think his super form would have trouble thinking ahead, so while he'd recognise if someone tried an identical plan to Prime Sonic's, he'd most likely fall for other tricks that have a similar effect but are executed differently. So the freedom fighters would actually be pretty good at handling this situation

I think one of the hardest things for Sonic is that feelings don't translate when someone is under the influence of chaos energy. Like, Sonic loves his friends even if he's shit at showing it, but he was more than willing to kill them when he was super. So Scourge's feelings for him likely wouldn't be enough to make him change back, especially if he's evil and possibly even if he's good. I think it would frustrate him knowing he can't get through to Scourge by appealing to his feelings, because those feelings don't matter when he's in his super form

I think Sonic would think he can cope with it better than he can because his other knee-jerk reaction is to see Super Scourge as a completely separate person to Scourge, which is simultaneously easy for him and way more difficult than expected. Super Sonic is (now) a separate person, after all, so it stands to reason he'd see Super Scourge the same way. But I don't think he'd be prepared for how little that separation helps him. I think he almost definitely makes some kind of comment about how Super Scourge "isn't really Scourge" which will inevitably piss Scourge off. Having his identity as Scourge dismissed would hurt even in regular form, so in a super form, that would be multiplied. Especially since, well, Super Scourge is Scourge. Just not the one they all know and love. Super Sonic was still Sonic in the beginning, after all, and only really became his own person after the split. But Sonic has gotten comfortable with the idea of super forms being separate people entirely, so of course that's how he'll treat Super Scourge. Needless to say, I don't think that will go down well, no matter if Scourge is good or evil in his super form

I LOVE the idea of Scourge accidentally being the antidote who can stabilise chaos energy. Normally the chaos emeralds need specific conditions to be stabilised, but imagine if Scourge could act as a replacement for those conditions... I think Sonic would both be thrilled at having a super form he can actually control, and be wary about it. I think he knows he could do a lot of good if he could just control his super form, but I think even if he got a super form he could control, transforming or seeing his fur start to turn yellow would lowkey still make him panic and instinctively try to shut it down. I think it would take him a long time to get over that.

I had a vague thought about Sonic using a dark form like we see in Sonic X in order to get around this and take advantage of all the negative emotions he has around turning super, but that is like, ultimate self indulgent daydreaming lol so probably nothing I will ever elaborate further on

Also, even if Scourge could stabilise chaos energy, chances are Porker would want to run experiments on that, and I can't imagine Scourge would be too happy about playing guinea pig (this would not stop him from bragging to Prime about how he fixed an entire dimension's chaos energy)

I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT ZONIC CALLING SCOURGE A COSMIC WILD CARD honestly that makes this whole scenario even more interesting and demonstrates just how much he could shake up the rules just by going super. Like we really took someone who is already making even the zone cops go "yeah idfk what's going on with this one man" and dumped him in the universe with more volatile chaos energy than normal. What a combination fdhsafhjdsa. Also this makes me wonder how much of a headache poor Zonic would have if Scourge ever did go super with the fleetway emeralds. Especially if he was good and went zooming off trying to "save" the multiverse, because you can guarantee that behaviour would catch the attention of the zone cops. Creating yet another obstacle for Sonic and the rest of the freedom fighters. Honestly the more I talk about this the more I think about things that Sonic would add to his list of "reasons why Scourge should never go super" lmao

[crazybutgood]

By George, I'm hooked!

So a short while back, while searching for a fic featuring both human and crup George, I tagged a few people whose works I binged recently in a bid to try to recall the author. Amidst the embarrassing chaos where I tagged three guesses (before I finally found the fic written by a fourth), I figured I’d share what it is about these three authors’ writing that has me engaged so thoroughly and often. And to tie it all in a theme, I’ll drop a rec of their fics that feature George Weasley.

An assortment of delights 💝🍫

@schmem14 masterfully crafts the most delicious and unique ideas. Like a box of mystery-flavour chocolates, trying each one gives a new delightful experience of Em’s stories and interpretations of prompts, plots and pairings. And I find myself reaching for another, and another and another…

I have especially really enjoyed her collections where she takes on themes in her inimitably creative way. I’d really recommend checking out the George ones in her collections too, and for now I’ll leave you with this rec:

Peeling Potatoes (Harry/George) (T, 585)

George is still grieving Fred. Harry offers a moment of peace.

An immersive binge-a-thon 🎥🍿

@the-francakes' fics are such a vibe. She has me absolutely engrossed in a variety of stories; it really feels like a chill, cinematic experience. I love browsing through each enticing summary (and lovely banner!) of both old favourites and new updates. I’m always happily transported right there in the bubble of the world she’s created, rooting for the characters and absolutely flailing at the gorgeous plot, until I reach the end and float right along to the next one.

Here's a George rec from her catalogue:

Helping Hands™ (Hermione/George) (G, 1510)

George shows Hermione his new Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product, Helping Hands™. And they help more than he expected.

A familiar comfort 😌💙

I always sink into @orange-peony's fics with the most satisfying feeling. Her fics are a pleasure to enjoy, curled up in bed with “entire work” clicked, squeeing, sobbing, smiling into a pillow. Her fics are always thrilling in their emotional rollercoaster, and never fail to warm my heart and make me just… feel with every fibre of myself. I absolutely love and crave that reading experience.

This fic is a quintessential example of that Peony experience:

Mirror, Mirror (Lee/George) (E, 22,759)

George feels a wave of relief washing over him at the thought that he still has time, that he can still get his shit together and stop feeling so utterly broken every single moment of the day, and then maybe he will be good enough for Lee. Sometimes he feels like the pain and the loss have woven through every fibre of his being, that his whole body is made out of grief, raw and wretched beyond repair. But then Lee takes his hand, or he threads his fingers through George’s hair, whispering something that George can only feel against his skin, lost words that make him shudder and reach for Lee, to feel him there and have him close. Real.

I hope you enjoy these fics, and check out these authors’ other works on their ao3s as well! Do remember to leave them some love 🥰 And as always, please mind the tags~

An eternal gratitude

Thanks to @stavromulabetaaa and @getawayfox for looking this over! (and for sparking the memory of the fic in the first place~) ❤️❤️

[santoschristos]

Eris the Greek goddess of discord and strife.

What power does Eris have?

Strife Manipulation: As the Goddess of Strife, Eris has absolute and divine authority over strife. Discord Manipulation: As the Goddess of Discord, Eris has absolute and divine authority over discord. Umbrakinesis: As one of Nyx's children, Eris can control and manipulate shadows.

Channeled Messages from Eris

I am the Goddess of Discord and Strife that is true, but that is not my only nature. If I could name myself, I would call myself the Feminine Warrior, for just like my brother, I come to fight (for a better world).

My brother Mars has been painted so gallantly as a warrior, fighting for justice, for peace, and for power. I do the same, but my approach is less about the physical.

I help to bring justice and equality to all, but from the inside. I wake people up by making them realize that none of us are whole until all of us are whole.

I bring discord and chaos, for that is how I communicate my messages. And it is through this, that I am able to inspire change.

Discord can be uncomfortable, I teach you how to be comfortable in moments like these. I teach you that not everyone has to agree with you all the time, and that’s ok.

Disagreements essentially stem from seeing the world in two different ways, and that is a beautiful thing. Not everyone can see the world the way you do. That’s not what this journey is about.

It is through these differences that we experience confusion, growth, and pain, but it is also through these states of being that we are able to transform.

In your human world, pain is seen as bad. But that is not the case from where I stand. I see pain as the greatest catalyst, the greatest revolutionizer, and the greatest breaker of chains.

It is unfortunate that it takes pain in order to bring these things about, but that is where Earth is at, so that is what I bring. And I won’t apologize, because if you could see what I see, you would do it too.

As I step into your consciousness more, we will start to notice the balance on Earth shifting. We will slowly start to see the end of the patriarchal ways, and a rise of more equality.

For this, more discord is needed, but try not to see it as all bad. Recognize that it is often the trouble makers and the odd ones out of the family that eventually go on to break generational traumas and to upset the repeated karmic patterns.

I am not your Goddess and I am not here to tell you what to do, but through the messages I bring, I can help you to claim your destiny and the light of your soul.

I will teach you to always have your own back, and to not care about what the rest of the Universe may think.

So, if there is a part of your life that needs a little discord, I offer it to you as a gift. Shake it up, step into your feminine power, radically accept yourself fiercely and wholly.

Learn how to feel comfortable in moments of discord by owning and claiming your feminine power. It is this power that created the ground you stand on today and it is this power that can also take it all away. Connect with that and feel just how “whoa” you are.

Image: Eris on an Attic plate, c. 575–525 BC. (c) Scala Group

[doodles-with-noodles]

Story ideas that won’t leave my head so I just write them down on here (It gets continually longer):

-Post-apocalyptic setting. The main character reaches a scrappy town whose only supply way has been blocked by enemies. Helping each other ensues because I am a sucker for „the inherent goodness of humanity“ storylines. Everyone is batshit crazy and it’s fun.

-Rich heir of a cruiseship starts seeing ghosts on said cruiseship. With no way to escape they start solving their murders/deaths to get them to leave them in peace + have to deal with lotsa own family drama. Probably post-war sometime and quite serious/more gritty than stuff I usually write, so I think while it’s a fun concept it wouldn’t quite fit my style (I alternate fluidly between funsie stuff and grittiness).

-The main character, a girl named Jules enters into the absolute chaos that is the job to protect society from ancient Egyptian mythology and has to decide if her quest for justice or her new team are more important. I really love the characters for this one, they’re very cool but take constant Ls. They’re also super interesting to explore, and despite me having a lot of story I adore having very much personality and character in my writing.

-A group of very much morally gray characters are offered something they truly want- in exchange, they have to steal/alter someone’s memory with cool future midtech stuff. Problem is that

1. never before has there been an attempt to directly influence a person’s mind

2. who knew? Totally stable seeming person has a fucked up mind and

3. If someone dreams they absolutely will be present in their own consciousness.

So now they’re not only dragging their subject (their dreaming subjects projection through their own consciousness? Idk) with them on a weird and wildly illegal journey trying to find the memory but also grappling with the moral implications because peak enemies to friends is happening. Plus facing the problem that you can’t just remove a memory because it is so deeply entwined with who the person is. But they cannot stop because their employer holds something against all of them. Came from a random line that popped into my head „bold of you to assume I can control my own mind.“ Also, once again very character and their dynamics focused. Idk if it has a good ending because if they remove the memory the subject will forget and that would be shitty but at the moment the only possible solution I could think of. Definetly has the vibes of old-fashioned slow music laid over violent slow fight scenes I don’t make the rules.

[contreparry]

Happy Friday, Ann! For DADWC, how about the short story prompt: Someone just having the worst luck.

Absolutely! Here's some Vivienne for @dadrunkwriting (I wasn't quite sure how to get this to fit with the prompt, but I hope it worked!)

Vivienne was a firm believer of making one's own luck.

Good things didn't simply happen. Good fortune was not derived out of the ether. Life was not a children's tale. Good spirits did not leave walnuts full of ballgowns in the slippers of gentle maidens for kindness' sake, no matter how gentle and sweet the maidens were in the stories. No, one had to make ballgowns out of fabric and thread and hours upon hours of toil. Luck was much the same way.

But a little bit of luck by happenstance would be most welcome today.

It started with the letter at her breakfast table. Her wing in the Ghislain Estate was peaceful that morning, a rarity considering the turmoil all of Thedas was embroiled in. She drank a cup of chocolate while she nibbled on a pastry (more air than pastry, truth be told, but it was an indulgence and she would not let it pass her by) as she scanned the letter. Every sentence only served to darken her mood. There was trouble in the mountains, rumors of heresy and false prophets having run rampant after the Conclave incident. While the demon problem was slowly resolving itself, a mage with a rather familiar name being paraded around by Divine Justinia's Hands as a leader for a war-ravaged land. The letter could be summed up in one word: Chaos.

If Bastien were- Vivienne scowled briefly, then set her empty chocolate cup down on its saucer with a definite clink. if Bastian was not so tired, he would have joined her for the meal. He often did for breakfast, unless his work had him otherwise occupied. Vivienne had his breakfasts, his work had his lunches, his family claimed dinner, and his suppers and evenings were spent with her unless they had previous engagements. Nowadays the Duke kept to his bedchamber and was often confined to his bed. Exhaustion, Vivienne told herself, but when she met Nicoline's gaze in the hall she saw her own fear reflected back at her in those pale grey-green eyes. They both knew the truth. The Duke was Unwell.

Vivienne had hoped it was a small matter that she could resolve in a few days. Perhaps a clever assassin with a vial of poison caught them all unawares. Perhaps it was only a mild illness that a healer could purge from his system. But no matter the concoction she brewed or the favors she called in, Bastien's condition did not significantly improve. Not permanently. Nicoline handled the mundane aspects of Bastien's illness: rearranging the household, declining invitations, informing those who the family trusted most of The Duke's declining condition. Vivienne managed the outside world. She had always been the one who was better at The Game. More analytical, more guarded, quicker to separate genuine treachery from common pettiness or boorish behavior. This alliance with her lover's wife was an oddity. The two of them bore each other's presence in Bastien's life with grace but little pleasure, having arranged it so they rarely crossed paths. But now... well. Now it was a perverse relief to know that they were trapped on the same boat, as it were, having to see the man they loved and respected suffer the ravages of time. It was monstrously unfair, Vivienne thought with bitterness, that there was nothing she could do for Bastien now. She had done everything possible, only to be met with failure.

She tried to make her own luck, and for once in her life she had failed. If only there was a friendly spirit to offer a miracle to her now.

Bastien's absence was most notable in these moments, when she was particularly morose and disheartened. He could always see to the heart of her heart and understand why she was so ill at ease. Yet with every dead-end... Vivienne scanned through the letter again and wondered if this was one last chance for her to make some luck for herself- and for Bastien, most of all.

A Herald of Andraste would have some modicum of influence that could bear fruit, if only she was tended to properly.

"An invitation, perhaps," Vivienne mused, and she reached across the table for a pad of stationary and a graphite pencil. A ball might just be the event to draw new possibilities into the fold and turn her fortunes around.

[elmundodeflor]

❄️ Snow On The Beach ❄️ - A Levi / Levihan Birthday Drabble

(for @giuliadrawsstuff as part1 of your secret santa gift!)

inspired by taylor swift's song.

and by full metal alchemist's main concept.

.

.

"And it's fine to fake it 'til you make it.

'Til you do, 'til it's true."

.

.

Hanji watched as Isabel left the kitchen; her silhouette a dark contrast to the warm traces of light coming from the dinning-hall.

They had been picked to do the dishes after the day's last meal along with Nifa and Moblit; both already sent off to rest. Now, hallways were empty and shadows were hidden and running water was the only sound filling in the spaces left by silence, like a whisper of the river-currents crossing over lonely fields.

They sighed, and let foam gather in between their fingers. There was still a small chunk of plates yet-left to wash, even after Isabel had lended a hand of her own in scrubbing off remaining food from the silverware.

"Here, in return for the candy you gave us the other day.", she'd offered, making her way across the tiled-floors to grab another sponge. And Hanji thought, then, if the same rules of science applied to the commonalities in life, then the Corps would have been more fairly welcoming to her.

"Equivalent exchange...", they told themselves, like they'd just made a brilliant discovery; their voice a low murmur drowned into the distance. It wasn't too long ago when they'd first read all about it, really: the natural laws of give and take. Action and consequential reaction.

Books defined the terms as a perfect balance, they recalled now, surely enough: a grand scheme of chemical formulas where everything was meticulously calculated and puzzled in order. Flowers blooming out of thunder-storm and ice melting off summer heat. Trees exhaling oxygen for the human, and the human planting sunflower seeds. The spreads of wildfire dying into flickers of ash, and Isabel helping them do the dishes on a chill December night.

"Can I ask you something?", she'd spoken, still scraping off left-over soup from a bowl in the pile. And Hanji knew, right that moment, there was something endearing about her smile; how her eyes sky-wide glinted with the million colors of the sunset.

"Anything.", they'd agreed.

Isabel looked over at them for a singular instant of vulnerability, and her cheeks flushed the same peach red of her hair.

"Would you take Levi to see the snow, one day...?", she'd said, almost like a plea. "For Furlan and I...?"

Hanji kept their words speechless. They weren't fully sure of why were they at the other end of Isabel's prayers. They weren't even sure if they'd live long enough to attest to the futility hidden in their promises, either.

They fixed up their glasses and returned the smile, then, if only in bittersweet response. They knew, her and Furlan and Levi had been treated with roughness right upon arrival, as if their mere presence was nothing but abnormal inconvenience. And they'd figured, almost immediately, that if life was any remotely graceful, the rules of equity would apply to them, too. That mercy would be conceded to those selflessly sent to farewell. That fear would perish in the face of bravery.

But life wasn't merciful, at last. And the laws of science didn't understand of the world's injustice.

So they nodded, regardless, and as they took another plate off the counter, their heart hoped, in credulous naivety, that an act of kindness would step humanity one dream closer to peace.

For everything equivalent exchanges were worth.

"Yes, I absolutely would."

.

.

"And it's like snow at the beach.

Weird but fucking beautiful.

Flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful.

You wanting me tonight feels impossible.

But it's coming down, no sound, it's all around."

.

.

White. Like sheets of linen clean on a warm spring-time morning. Like his favourite shirt washed spotless. Like unwritten stories on turning pages, absent of the chaos in color.

Everything around him was sunken in wonderstruck, shimmering white.

"Levi! Look!", he heard Hanji call; their voice drifting away in the winter breeze, like a lonely boat lost within the waves. "Isn't this marvellous!?"

He nodded and watched as his boots imprinted over the icy grounds; a strange mixture of sand and snow. Hanji had insisted on leaving the kids behind with Onyankopon to take him over the beach earlier that day. And he had agreed without much of a second thought.

"I have never seen anything quite like this before!", they spoke again; their arms wide open to the cold, as if trying to hug the horizon closer to their chest.

Levi hummed, and his breath spiraled into frozen clouds of fog. It was a beautiful thing to witness, indeed: how white stretched and covered the land of sprinkling flakes. How the limits between the sea and the skies seemed to blurr, merging into one winter daydream he'd never once hoped to touch.

He crouched near the ground, and scouped up snowballs between his hands; his bare skin aching of burning red, almost a stark contrast to the monochromatic rainfall. Hanji had told him all about how ice was formed many years back, when they were still young cadets trying to navigate the world: an equivalent exchange between water and winds so cold, it was enough to make freezing white drop from the clouds.

"Hey!", he exclaimed, and his words were painted into ephemeral drawings that vanished with the coastal-breeze. "Don't be so reckless out here, okay?"

Hanji smiled, as they run along the icy sea-shores, and threw themselves onto the ground, fluffed up soft and harmless. Levi couldn't quite remember, really, when had he last seen them oh so feverishly happy. When had he last been chosen accomplice to the lull of their laughter, wild and obnoxious and free.

"What are you doing?", he asked, staring down at them once he'd approached closer; his brows furrowed in question. Hanji giggled, camouflaged onto the winter landscape, and their glasses covered in frosted white.

"I'm making snow angels!", they stated, as though obvious. Their arms and legs waved and danced and carved funny shapes, spread onto the freezing sand. "Come join me, won't you?"

Levi huffed, but dropped his body weightless next to theirs, either way. He had seen snow in his life before, yet never quite this way. Never quite like it'd been plucked right out of a fairytale story.

He looked over at Hanji, and a small smile crept uninvited up the corners of his lips. They were flushed a pink sheen from the cold weather; their hair gently adorned by frozen raindrops, all placed together like a crystal crown.

"You never told me...", he whispered, tucking a thick strand of brown behind their ear. It was a gesture so soft, it made Hanji's cheeks grow warmer, even in the bristling chills. A ghosting caress that made time stop, forever frozen in the falling-snow.

"About what?", they frowned.

Levi cupped their face a moment too long, and breathed out a misty cloud of smoke. There were white dots in between his fingers and galaxies in Hanji's eyes, and his heart thumped an unsteady rhythm that mixed in with that of the ocean.

"Snowflakes.", he contemplated, plain and simple. And Hanji took his hand in theirs, tracing landscapes unknown into the lines of his palm.

"It is said that not two of them are the same.", they explained, like unraveling a long-lost legend. "That each and every snowflake is completely different to one another..."

Levi kept his silence as he stared at his hand, now tinted of white stardust. It occured to him, suddenly, that Hanji was maybe a snowflake, too: a one of a kind rarety, like an aurora boreal neon. A unique, once-in-a-life-time coinidence: wildly untamable, beautifully strange.

Like water freezing on a winter day. Like stars glistening over ocean waves. Like snow storms on the beach.

He sighed, and moved his arms and legs open into an angel of diamond ice, much quite similar to the one Hanji had made not too long before. It was a divine miracle, perhaps, that they had the entire coast-wide to themselves, like a blank canvas to start anew. That the universe had suddenly frozen and it could be just the two of them, invincible against the world.

"Thank you for bringing me over here, four eyes.", he smiled once more; his lips tugging upwards in joyful confession. "It was really... not bad at all."

They winked at him, playful as ever, and extended out a gloved-up hand to hold his face again; their touch trembling with a carefulness so loving, it was enough to make him come down, melted off like crystal-snow.

"Think about it as an equivalent exchange.", they concluded. And Levi scrunched his nose into a million wrinkles of confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Hanji rolled their eyes and got up from the ground, shaking off scraps of winter-time from their muted-green coat.

"It's a promise I made with someone many years ago...", they crossed their arms, looking out to the ocean, as if trying to find something hidden beyond the horizon. "I'd rather keep it a secret, for now..."

He stared at them, and then followed as they ran across the infinite spaces of the beach, moments right after. Maybe, he figured, both laughing breathless, if only for that one magical instant, nothing else really mattered:

They could throw themselves onto the ground, dig angel-shapes into the snow. And he wouldn't care if windchills sipped from beneath his winter-coat, dampening his hair of ice-melted dreams.

They could run across frosted shores and scream free into the howling breeze and play catch like little kids. And he wouldn't dare war let him remember they were fighting much scarier battles outside, too.

For the world was a place too empty of tenderness already. And, if rules of science applied to the commonalities in life, even if just for a little while, they'd be able to forget about it:

They'd be no Captain, no Commander. Just Levi, just Hanji. Enjoying the beauty in what's uncommon. Catching wonders with their eyes.

Like snowflakes on his fingers. Like sand on December. Like snow on the beach.

.

.

"I can't speak afraid to jinx it

I don't even dare to wish it

But your eyes are flying saucers from another planet

Now I'm All For You like Janet

Can this be a real thing? Can it?"

.

.

White. Like spoonfulls of sugar laced with his tea. Like clouds of rain on chill autumn evenings. Like the wedding gown he wished Hanji could have worn for him to the altars, one long-lost September day.

Everything out his window was painted a blinding, cut-clean white.

"Levi...", Gabi entered his bedroom without knocking the door; a piece of lemon-pie cake in one hand. "What do you wanna do today?"

He sighed, and his breath fogged up a melancholy patch on the nearby glass. The streets were quiet and the skies were gloomy and the world seemed frozen, guarded into precatious hibernation.

"Equivalent exchange...", he whispered, watching out on the snow-fall; his voice crooked into a sound so low, it was barely audible. Hanji had told him all about it, what seemed a whole life-time ago: a perfect balance of the universe, how ice was formed.

He touched the window pane, and his hurt hand burned into the cold; fingers gliding over his misty exhale, melting it back into nothingness. If life was ever any remotely fair, he thought, they would still be with him, achingly and colorfully alive, as he had always remembered them to be.

If the laws of give and take could be used as an example for the mortal, nobody he'd ever loved would have been robbed from the Earth.

But he knew: life wasn't truly fair, at last. And so, he had no choice but to keep living in the name of the dead.

For all of what equivalent exchanges were worth.

"Would you take me to see snow on the beach...?"