#there has to be a guest account somewhere

[jane-lynndrake-t]

Do you have any names of the people? Who owned the laptop?

Right!! I didnt tell you that yet,

Im sorry, I just feel so close to finding out so much info that I raced ahead.

The desktop account is called "Acheron”. Which is… The river in Greece?

Was I taken to Greece???

[reiderwriter]

Let Me Love You, Baby

Chapter 7 of That's What You Get Prev Chap // Next Chap

Warnings: Oral (M and F receiving), nipple play, handcuffing, BDSM themes, dom! Spencer, sub! Reader, breeding kink, creampie, handcuffing, a variety of PinV sex positions, multiple orgasms, squirting mention, mentions of different types of orgasms involving penetrative sex and anal sex. 18+ MINORS DNI Summary: Your memories of your wedding night come back. Not all of them, just the interesting ones.

A/N: If you're enjoying this series please PLEASE let me know in the comments! I've really been loving the theories about who the other witness is and I've changed my mind like three times on who it is eventually going to be BUT I've made up my mind now and I think it's going to be a great reveal lmao. This chapter has been on my mind since I started the series and I'm so happy you can all finally read it, but it is also A Lot of sex because every time I had a thought, I wrote it down and then didn't self-edit lmao. You can find my masterlist here, the series masterlist in the link above, and if you enjoy my smut, think about checking out my kinktober masterlist or my AO3 account for daily spicy content next month! <3

You stumbled, drunk, into the room, not sure in the haze if it was yours or his. The card had passed between you in many hushed giggles through the hall as you eagerly pulled each other forward. Falling onto the bed, you let out a contented sigh as Spencer fell next to you, face first into the sheets with a small laugh. 

“I can’t believe we did that!” You grinned, meeting his eyes as he turned his head towards you. “We’re married!” 

“We are.” He smiles, and you can’t help but let your eyes fall to his lips, swollen and pink from your earlier enjoyment of one another. You start to laugh, not fully understanding why, but thinking it probably had a lot to do with the alcohol you’d consumed. Bringing a hand up to his face, you let a finger run over the corner of his mouth, wiping away a tiny splash of red you’d deposited earlier. 

“Your lips are swollen.” 

“Whose fault is that?” He leans in and catches your lips again in his and you squeal at the sudden contact, excited to feel him against you again. He’s soft and gentle at first, but as you gasp underneath him your breaths get shorter, stopping just shy of moans as you let your hands trail up and down his body. But the edge of the bed is uncomfortable, so you push him off, following his lips still as he pushes himself further up, straddling his waist as you let yourself melt into him. 

“How did this happen again?” You ask, memory already feeling a little fuzzy, as you think back on the stressful few weeks you’ve had and how much better this feels. How nice it is to have someone underneath you, pressed against you, holding you. 

“Is that important right now?” He asks, lips seeking yours again as you turn your head just as he tries to connect, giggling at his pout. 

“You know, I always thought getting married would be this whole huge thing. Hundreds of guests, 18 months of stress while planning, you never really know on the day if the man you’re attempting to lock down is actually going to be on the other end of that aisle or if he’s bolted somewhere.” His lips are carving a path down your throat as you talk, memorizing the peaks and falls of every inch of your skin, committing you to memory like a prayer. 

“A man would have to be absolutely stupid to leave you at the alter, Y/N.” He says those words that prick your heart so easily, worming his way in, without even breaking his lips away from their spot on your collarbone. 

“Then if he didn’t leave, he’d be too drunk to perform on the wedding night, and so the entire day would end up just being a bust anyway.” He smiles into his final kiss, letting it linger against your skin as he pulls away and looks into your eyes. 

“How drunk are you, Spencer?” Your voice falls to a hush as you shift your weight in his lap, opening your legs just a smidge wider, shifting forward so more of you is falling over his clothed member, pressing up against him as close as possible. 

“You’re talking too much,” he growled out, and, grabbing you by the neck, pulled you into another heated kiss. This one isn’t giggles and soft sighs, it’s a clash of teeth and tongue and desperation, and you suddenly have the answer to your question as you feel him stiffen beneath you. Grinding down into him, you let him take control of your actions, letting him tell you when you can come up for air. 

When he finally pulls away from you, you stay connected through a line of saliva stretching from your lolling tongue to his mouth. He breaks it with his thumb, forcing the digit into your mouth as you suck your shared mess from him. 

“Definitely not too drunk.” 

You couldn’t help yourself then, as you pulled his thumb from your mouth and shifted your body down the bed until your face was parallel to his crotch, beginning to palm him in his trousers. 

“If we’re married,” you say, popping the button on his pants open. “We should probably get to know each other's… preferences early on. Stop any future arguments from occurring, right?” You looked up at him through hooded eyes, plastering the most sinful smile you could muster on your face. He stayed quiet, but you felt him twitch underneath your hand, and decided that was response enough. 

“You can bite me and scratch me if you want. I like it. Pull my hair, spank me, choke me until I’m begging to cum. I like all of it. You’re in control now, Spencer. You can do whatever you want with me, so long as it ends with your cum down my throat or stuffed inside me.” Finishing your speech, confidence fueled by alcohol and the buzz of your wedding vows, you slip his cock from its cloth prison and take it directly into your mouth. 

It’s thicker than you expected, and you just sit with the tip of it in your mouth for a second, trying to find a comfortable position. When you finally do, you push slowly down on it, letting your tongue tease and trace a path down. You don’t make it to the base before you’re pulling off, reaching what you expect to be your max about halfway down. You set a rhythm for yourself, hands pumping the rest of him as you coax the cum from him. 

He gives you three minutes of fun before he decides that you need a little help reaching your full potential. Fisting a hand into your hair, and cradling the back of your neck in his other, he stills your motions before pushing you further down his cock, bypassing your gag reflex as your throat battles against the position he’s put you in, your nose tickled against his soft curls. 

“Okay, let’s talk preferences. I’d prefer it if you ask permission before you touch something, whether that be me or yourself. I’d prefer if you used a safe word if this all gets a bit much for you. And I’d prefer you to relax that little throat of yours so I can fuck a load of my seed down it baby, okay?” He pulls you up by the hair and you nod, rasping out a yes as you gasp for air. 

“Safeword is profile, tap twice if you need air.” And with that, he’s fucking your face again, pushing and pulling you by your hair as your mouth leaks spit. This was going to be a moment you’d never forget, the taste of his precum at the back of your throat, burning its way down. 

Shrugging off his pants completely, he keeps at his movements, your head still working over him like you’re simply a fleshlight for his personal use. He grunts and twitches into you, signaling his impending release, and you try to ready yourself for the sting of the liquid hitting the back of your throat. He cums hot and fast, and you swallow around him, but there’s so much, it spills out of your mouth quickly, dripping down your chin and neck. 

“Good girl. You listen to instructions well.” He pulls you up to his lap again as he begins undressing you, not bothering to wipe his cum from your mouth. 

In a matter of seconds, he has you completely bare for him. Pulling your legs further up, he lets your torso fall back into the bed before shimmying himself down, coming face-to-face with your core. 

“You remember the rules?” He asks, and you nod, answering his question. 

“No touching, safe word is profile. Is that it?” 

“One more thing. You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, okay?” You let out a moan of discontent then, but he shuts you up with a light slap to your face, coming up to press a kiss to your lips before traveling south again. 

“Relax for me, baby,” he says as he spreads your legs and stretches out his tongue to finally come in contact with your needy core. His tongue is skilled, and you almost immediately break one of his rules as you arch off the bed, trying your best not to suffocate him between your thighs as you search for ways to heighten this pleasure. 

He wastes no time being gentle, just fully eating you out like it was his job to make you cum on his face. His tongue stretched from your clit to your hole, flattening out and writhing in equal amounts as your pleasure built to a frenzy. Your hands gripped into the sheets and you clung to the single thought that maybe a punishment from your new husband wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 

Your hands drift to his hair, gripping tightly as you begin bucking into his mouth, completely lost in your base desires. He quickly grips your hands and pins them to the bed again though, pulling away just before you even think about climaxing against his face. 

“Spencer,” you beg, your moans sounding like the sobs of a spoiled child. 

“You broke a rule, princess. I can’t just let you get away with that.”  You moan at the loss of contact, your voice whinier than you'd ever heard it. 

He left the bed entirely then, and you lifted your head up to follow his path to the drawers by the side of the bed. Opening it, he picked up the wedding license you'd discarded on the floor, placing it nearly inside and slowly pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Your standard FBI set, not something light, flimsy, and cushioned with fluff, these were hard and cold against your skin as he returned to the bed. 

"Wait, S-Spencer…. Really?" You panicked as he pulled one arm over your head placing it parallel with the headboard, trapped between the slats. He tightened the cuff around your hand, leaving one free as he started kissing down your arm, down to your shoulder and into the hollow of your neck. 

"Yes, really. Now since you want to use that other hand so badly, why don't you use it to get yourself off." You swallowed the spit in your mouth, and nodded at him, before doing just as he asked, picking up where his hands had gotten off. 

He shifted to sitting just by your side, lifting your body half on top of him, your back pressed up against his chest as he watched over your shoulder as your hand-worked you into a frenzy. Bringing both of his hands around your body, he started playing with your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, pulling and fondling your breasts as your breathing became more labored. 

"There are seven different female orgasms, you know. The clitoral orgasm, the G-spot orgasm, the blended orgasm, the anal orgasm, the A-spot orgasm, a purely psychological orgasm, and," he leaned down closer to your ear to finish his sentence. "The nipple orgasm." You struggled against the handcuff as you felt the tightness build in your chest, but he grabbed and held your other hand close to him as he pushed up on top of you again. 

"How many do you think you'll get tonight, Y/N?" He asked, lowering his head back to your chest as you bucked your hips wildly, trying to feel him in between your legs. 

He pushed down your hips and kept his attention on your chest, your brain going fuzzy with the contact as the orgasm that had been imminent kept growing until you couldn't stop it from rushing over you, chumming with his attention solely on your chest. 

"You didn't answer my question?" He brought his head up, frowning slightly as you blinked your eyes open and focused on his shape above you. 

"Did you read some kind of sex book, Spencer? Jesus Christ that was…" You couldn't say anything else and he chuckled from above you. 

"I didn't read one, I've read multiple, and it's less reading and more committing to absolute memory." He swooped back down to your lips. "Answer the question, how many do you think you'll get tonight?"

"Two?" You ask vaguely, immediately opening your mouth back up to keep rambling. "But Spencer I've never really had more than one with another person and I'm not sure if I even can-" 

"You can. You will. You promised to listen to me, remember?" You flushed at his words, choosing simply to just nod for him instead of trusting your tongue to spit out the right words. 

"Good girl," he says, wrapping your legs around him, and running his cock through your folds, holding it there as he teased you. 

"I don't have to use a condom, right? You want me to drop my load directly into you, right? We're married now, so I can just fuck my seed into you, hmm?" You moaned out, begging for him to just push into you, to keep his promises and pleasure you again and again. 

"Hands in the sheets baby, come on, no touching remember?" You did as you were told, and with another kiss to your lips, tongues locking in your battle, he thrust his entire length into you in one movement. 

A scream of pleasure ripped out of you, just as quick and fast as you were sure you ripped the sheets of the bed, your sharp nails digging in for dear life as you struggled against the desire to hold him against you. 

"That's it, princess. That's it." He starts thrusting, snapping his hips up, and slowly pulling himself out again. For a moment, it was like you weren't breathing at all, his body feeding you everything you needed to sustain yourself. Lungs burning, you gulped in large breaths of him. His tongue swallowed each and every complaint, as he shared in your pleasure. 

He wasn't afraid to be vocal, like some men you'd been with in the past, and the sounds of his pleasure echoed out louder than your own. He was moaning in your ear, telling you how beautiful you looked on him as he pounded into you relentlessly. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he slapped into you again and again. 

His hand came up to your face as he grew closer to his climax, pushing his fingers back into your mouth as he turned your face further against the pillow. Your spit dribbled out of your mouth as you moaned around his fingers, pussy clenching on his dick as you felt your embarrassment rise. 

"So pretty and messy," he mumbled, hips keeping his pace up. 

"Did you make sure to swallow all of my cum earlier baby? Because if there was any of it left on my cock, I'm fucking it into you. Going to drop another load next to it so you can feel me knock you up." 

Unlike your first orgasm, you don't feel this one coming, you just know that he's hitting a spot so deep that it's never been reached before and saying the exact words that are pulling it closer to you, and then you're ecstasy has you squirting around his dick. 

"That's right. There you go, baby, lay nice and calm there, I need to keep going."

You were overstimulated, already feeling your desire burn a path through you again. He pulled out though, but made it clear that his intention was just to switch the positions of your bodies. 

Making sure not to twist your locked-up arm uncomfortably, he laid on the bed and pulled your fucked out body on top of him. You shivered at his touch and he pulled you further into his embrace warming you up. 

Your chest was pressed against his back, your head rolled back on his shoulder as he gently coaxed your legs apart one more time. 

"That's it, baby, you're listening so well. Just push your legs apart for me, okay?" You did as he asked, and he pressed your legs further up and apart, grabbing into the flesh of your thighs as he aligned his dick with your aching pussy and pressed into you one more time. 

The new angle had you moaning around you, as he encouraged you to start lifting your hips up and down, as he trusted up into you, your eyes rolling back into your head as he hit an electric point inside of you. He grabbed your hand to steady you as you moved to a seated position, letting your heels dig into the bed as you began riding him.

You were so tired that it didn't last long though, your hips stuttering awkwardly. 

"It's okay, Y/N, I'll do the rest, you just stay right there." From his place underneath you, he kept your thighs from above him as he thrust into you just as quickly as before, somehow maintaining his stamina despite the edging, the alcohol, and the energy you'd already exerted. 

Just as you were really about to lose your mind, he pulled out again, escaping from beneath you and gently laying you back on the bed. 

"One more position, princess, and then we can rest. You've been so good for me, you can do this, right? Can let me drop all of my cum inside you?" You nodded another sleepy yes, eyes somewhere between closed and open. There was no strength left in your body to stiffen up as he began moving your now malleable body into position, but that doesn't mean you didn't let out a moan at the way he'd stretched you out. 

Pushing your legs apart again, he's settled between them, but instead of letting them wrap around him, he'd kept hold of them, pushing your knees up still until they were on either side of your chest. He kissed away complaints and approvals that didn't come and slowly pushed into you again. 

He was evidently close, by the way he was drawing this out now. His fingers found your clit as his cock slowly worked in and out of you, the snap of his hips completely controlled and even in tempo. 

"Just keep doing that, Spence, oh my god," you begged, words suddenly returning to you. His fingers on your clit increased in pressure, but his pace otherwise didn't change, and you soon felt that third orgasm ripple through you, finally leaving you with no more to give. 

Your last fall from grace had him following you swiftly after, his lips finding yours as he crashed back down on top of you, hips stuttering as he drank you in like wine. 

The rest was a blur, really, sleep having claimed you so swiftly that you barely remember the words he had definitely whispered to you as soon as he caught his breath again. 

"I love you. It's always been you." 

Other than a vague recollection of him rearranging your legs so you wouldn't struggle to walk the next day, and the sensation of a cold, damp cloth on your skin, nothing besides remained. 

–X– 

It's unfortunate, really, that the memory came to you when you did, his lips on yours heating you up in a way that made you absolutely want to relive every experience he had given you. But paralyzed with shock, you'd had only one recon to choose a reaction, and out of fight, flight, fawn, or freeze, you'd gone for slam the door in his fucking face. 

Not your finest moment. 

Which is why after two minutes of listening to his confusion on the other side of the hall, your brain kicked back into gear and you started weighing your options. 

It would be wrong to open the apartment doors and pull him back in, right? It would certainly be wrong to pull him in and demand a re-do of the first time you'd forgotten. Would he even want to redo doing it with you? And what did he mean when he said "I love you." 

It was those words more specifically that scared you. You'd both been absolutely intoxicated when you'd fallen into the wedding chapel together and still remarkably unstable afterward presumably. There was a high likelihood that he hadn't known what he was saying, and taking a risk on a friendship for half a memory and wishful thinking wasn't a great calculation. 

But gripping the door handle, you realized your body had made the decision for you, completely overwhelmed by the need to see him again. 

When you opened the door, no one was there. Your phone pinged with a text as you looked around disappointedly, not finding him anywhere. Looking down at your phone, you cursed your own stupidity as you read his message. 

"Sorry. I won't do that again."

You typed out explanations and deleted them over and over for what seemed like an hour, guilt eating you up. 

Eventually, you threw your phone down in resignation, and, grabbing your groceries, started frantically planning your next steps. 

Step one: wallow in your own misery. 

Step two: crack open the single bottle of red wine in your pantry. 

Step three: beg for heavenly guidance. 

After the wine was opened, you picked up the phone again and shot off a quick emergency message to Penelope. 

"Pen, need help, may have just ruined EVERYTHING with Reid because I remembered our wedding night mid-kiss - long story. Mine, now? Xx"

You couldn't stand to look at your phone after that, putting it on silent and assuming the single time it flashed was confirmation that Penelope was on her way. After half an hour, you sprang from your seat at the sound of the door, making your way back to the scene of your most recent number one embarrassing memory. 

Only opening the door to Emily Prentiss, you were sure you'd just dethroned yourself. 

"You're going to have to start from the beginning or explain to me that that message had multiple typing errors, because just when did you and Reid get married, and why is it suddenly over now?" 

--X--

🏷️ Pt 1 @w-windy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira

@danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

The Love Language of Flowers (Yandere OP Shanks/Reader)

I finally remembered what I had forgotten to do once I opened this account -- and that was to share this fanfiction I had wrote on AO3 with you all!

Smut; Yandere ; AFAB

Synopsis :

You were a sickly floral shop owner in an otherwise dreary island. Despite your flowers bringing joy to the island, the villagers never welcomed you with open arms, only accepting you for your coin and products.

When Shanks and his crew come around, the treatment gets worse.

Shanks. He was so strong, stronger than you could ever be. And part of you hoped you could stay shielded under him forever. You always felt like no harm could come to you when he was around. That with him, everything would be okay.

If only you knew at the time what he was capable of.

Chapter 1: Hyacinth - Jealousy

“Come again!” You said cheerfully at the departing guest.

“Yeah, yeah…” The man grumbled as he walked out of your store, slamming the door shut behind him.

You glanced down at your transaction book and sighed, leaning back only to gasp as you nearly knocked over your finest floral vase.

“Oh, dear,” You said breathlessly, stabilizing the wobbly porcelain as fast as you could. With a quick sigh of relief, you shook your head, chastising yourself mentally.

“Sorry, lillies. I didn’t do that on purpose, I swear.”

The flowers in the vase didn’t respond, but you knew they wouldn’t. Being ostracized from the village had left you lonely and turning to flowers for conversation.

They were never known for their hospitality, —you were aware of this when you moved to the island three years ago to find a cure for your illness— but the villagers were even more hostile ever since you had befriended a certain pirate captain and his crew.

Dangerous , a senior woman on the island had warned you, Pirates are no good, heartless ruffians that take and take ‘til there’s nothing left!

But if that were the case, then why were they so nice to you? In the year that you had known them, they graced you with more kindness and hospitality than all of the villagers had ever offered, combined. It always made you happy to see them, and as your relationships deepened, it was harder to watch them go.

Your hand subconsciously moved to touch the bandage at your neck. If only the flowers that remedied your illness were able to grow elsewhere besides the island. Maybe then you could travel, move somewhere far away. But until then, you were content with living your life the way you did.

Your pride and joy was your flower shop. Using the only money you had left from your late father’s inheritance, you opened up your store in hopes of sharing the joy of flowers with everyone around you. The villagers might have disliked you for being an outsider, but they loved your products. So they kept coming back and you were able to keep food on the table.

Today was proving to be a slow day, though. With no orders for floral arrangements, plants, or vases, you found yourself eying your transaction logs wearily again.

The sound of your door chimes ringing quickly caught your attention, and you hopped off from your stool to greet your guest properly.

“Welcome to Floral Feel—-Oh, hi, Red!” Your smile widened into something genuine as a tall, red-haired man approached your counter.

“And hello to you too, Sunshine.” Your heart did double flips at the nickname. You’re the one who started the whole charade, but you couldn’t help but feel funny every time he called you that.

“How’s your day been, Shanks?”

“It’s been alright. My men and I are preparing to make way for the sea next week, so I’ve been busy with preparations.”

“Aw, leaving so soon? Must have had enough of this dreary place, eh?”

“I’d agree, but a certain pocket of sunshine has been making it worthwhile,” He made a show of winking, and you giggled at the gesture.

“Well, I’m glad to be of service. Here!” You handed him a clipped rose from a nearby vase. He took it and put it up to his face, eyes closed, inhaling deeply its scent.

“Smells nice,” He spoke, and when he opened his he was greeted with your stunned face.

“What, something on my face?” He joked.

You shook your head.

“Nothing like that,” you spoke with a touch of admiration in your voice, “I always thought flowers brought beauty out of a person, but with you, you simply make the flowers more beautiful.”

Your words had him stunned, but he recovered within seconds.

“You are a true Casanova, you know that?” He chuckled, breaking the rose off its long stem. He leaned over to tuck the flower behind your ear.

“And I can say the same to you, you make that rose look ravishing ,” He whispered close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Please don’t eat the flowers,” You chuckled nervously.

“Nah, there’s something else I want to eat,” Combined with the intense look he gave you, his words had you turning pink in the cheeks.

“Oh my god, Shanks,” You said with your hands covering your face.

He laughed a hearty laugh, clearly pleased with your reaction.

“Oh, but I’m not joking, Love .”

Love.

The two of you had started dating only recently, and you still couldn’t wrap it around your head that you two were together now. Shanks had always been a tease, but ever since the two of you became official, it’s been absolute mayhem for your heart.

“ Please, Shanks ,” You spoke through your hands. Your ears were red, a color he said he loved to see on you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Sorry for teasing you, Sunshine,” He patted your head, “But I digress, I was wondering if you were up to eating at the local tavern with my crew and I tonight. My treat.”

“Aw, although that’s sweet of you, Red, I have to decline,” You shut the proposition down without hesitation. “I’m not one to drink, and…I’m not welcome there.”

His smile dropped at that. “Like they refuse to serve you, or you just don’t feel welcome?”

You waved your hands. “Oh, no, no! Nothing like that. I just don’t feel welcome. The venom is there, and it makes me feel uncomfortable. It’s obvious I’m not wanted in the village.”

He sighed. “You know, I can take care of that if you’d like.”

“Nuh-uh,” you waved a finger pointedly at him, “You are not threatening the villagers.”

He’d cross his arms if he could. “And who said I would be threatening them?”

You gave him a look.

“Okay, okay, no threatening. Can I at least get you take-out for dinner?”

That perked you up, “Sure! I’m not sure what they have, but get me anything you think I’d like, please?”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” He winked again, and you giggled at his words.

“Well, I have to check on the boys. I’ll leave you to your own devices, yeah?”

“Okie dokie. I’ll see you tonight!” You smiled brightly and waved him goodbye.

He smiled down at you with love in his eyes, and you felt your cheeks flush again.

A quick peck on the lips left you frozen with your mouth hung open. He laughed as he walked out, giving you a wave in return.

Once you heard the door’s jingle, you shut your mouth and screamed into your hands.

———————————

A few days passed uneventfully. Shanks stopped by your shop every now and then for a chat, on a rare occasion coming with his right-hand man or other crew mates. Today was one of those days.

“So you’re the little lady that’s got our captain smitten, huh?” The mocha skinned man said. He introduced himself as Yassop, throwing you a wink.

“That would be I! Although he’s got me smitten too. Probably even more so.”

Yassop shook his head at that. “No way. If only you knew how much we’ve had to hear Shanks ramble on about the ‘pretty lady in the flower shop’. It’s been driving us crazy! Our ship is full of flowers now, you know.”

You turned to Shanks. “I was wondering what you were doing with all those flowers! You shouldn’t feel obligated to purchase something every time you stop by, you know. “

“Eh, I’m just supporting my lady’s business.”

“Well, your lady is honored.” You offered a mock bow.

With your head dipped down, Yasopp took notice of the crystal flowers displayed behind you. Beautifully crafted, each flower was hand blown, delicately carved out of stained glass.

“Those don’t look like the kind of flowers you usually sell, miss. They look like they cost a fortune. How much for those?”

“Oh, these?” You turned around to stare at them yourself, touching a glass leaf gently. “They’re not for sale, I’m afraid. These were actually a gift from the Whitebeard crew when I first moved into the island. You probably know who they are, yeah? Well one of the boys had a thing for me and tried to propose to me with these!” You laughed briefly, “Can you believe that? I of course said no, but he let me keep the gift anyways. He said it was specially made for me and would just be thrown away otherwise.”

You were too busy admiring the crystal flowers that you didn’t see the face Shanks made. Yasopp saw him clench his fists, but had no intention of bringing it up.

“That’s… nice ,” Shanks forced out.

You turned and teased, “What, jealous? I can assure you that my heart belongs to one person and one person only.”

You took a crystal poppy out of the vase and handed it to him, “That person is you, Shanks. Another beautiful flower for an even more beautiful man.”

“Damn, Shanks, you didn’t tell me that your girl was such a Casanova. Got any compliments for me, pretty lady?”

“I have no problem admiring beauty when I see it. You sir, have gorgeous hair.”

“I-“ Yasopp was taken aback, “No one recognizes the care that goes into my hair, so thank you! Say,” He started, batting his eyes frivolously, “Are you single?”

That got a laugh out of you both.

The velvet haired man elbowed his crew mate. “Hey, no flirting in front of the captain, it’s rude. And don’t steal my girlfriend, jackass.”

You giggled at that, although Yasopp could recognize through years of knowing the man that Shanks wasn’t joking.

He threw his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay, I won’t play anymore.” He rubbed the arm Shanks had hit.

“I’m actually here with Shanks today ‘cause he told me you had dried flowers for teas. I wanted to stock up. We won’t be back for a while, and I get tired of booze every night.”

You beamed. Tea was one of your best sellers. “Oh, of course!” Shanks tucked the crystal flower in his waist sash, and you led the two to a section of your store with pouches of dried petals and flower buds. “Go ahead and open and smell them if you’d like. And I’ll throw in a bag for free, on the house.”

“Appreciated, boss lady!”

You felt a strong arm snake around your waste, and you leaned into Shanks’s torso. “Thanks, Sunshine,” He said softly while Yasopp was busy smelling the roses, literally.

“It’s no problem, I want to be good to the people who’re good to you, Red.”

Shanks sighed. “Your earnestness is gonna be the death of me, Love. I’m already holding back …” He murmured that last part under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Eh, don’t worry about it.”

So worry about it you did not. You spent the remaining half hour talking to the two men and explaining what each tea was and how to best brew them. Yasopp ended up purchasing your whole stock of chamomile and dandelion teas, and you threw in a bag of hibiscus tea for free.

The two ended up leaving after their purchases to reorganize dry storage on the ship.

“Hey, I was joking about your girlfriend earlier,” Yasopp brought up while walking back to the dock.

“Pshh, I know. No hard feelings, yeah?”

Yasopp gave him a side eye. He knew how Shanks could get around the things he loved. “…No hard feelings. I’m going ta make way first, dying to try this hibiscus tea.”

“Go ahead, I got some more errands to run before heading back on.” Yasopp didn’t question it, nodding as he slung the large sack of tea pouches over his shoulder.

When he was out of sight, Shanks went into an empty alleyway, using Haki to make sure no one was in the vicinity, especially not you.

He pulled the crystal poppy you gave him out of his waistband, turning it over in his hand. It really was fine craftsmanship. Someone spent a lot of thought and time into making this gift for you. Beautiful, really. 

He stretched his hand out, and dropped the flower onto the concrete. His heel crushed the glass with a loud, satisfying crack .

Chapter 2: Marigold - Passion

Shanks was a simple man. Drink a lot, sleep a lot, sail a lot, work a lot. There wasn’t much that could phase him, even if the most horrific of insults or treatment was thrown his way. As one of the strongest men of the sea, it seldom happened anyways.

But when his loved ones were treated maliciously, the whole script would flip. He’d get angry, belligerent even, and be ready to fight to the death to safeguard those he cared about. The failure to save his childhood captain left a scar in his heart, only fueling his desire to protect.

That’s why when he saw you on the street corner, covered in food, dirt and sand (and what that blood? Fuck that.) just sitting there with your items scattered on the ground, he was seeing red.

“What do you kids think you’re doing?” He growled with deadliest, Haki infused glare he could muster without making anyone in the vicinity faint.

Shanks was not one to hurt children. But seeing you sit there pathetically with tears in your eyes, he so badly wanted to break a bone or two and teach a few life-altering lessons to those hell-spawn.

They were smart at least, because they obviously got the memo and ran off for their lives, shrieking pathetically with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Don’t you ever try this again!” He shouted at them, sighing as he watched them leave for the hills. Once he knew they were no longer an immediate problem he turned all his attention to you.

His beautiful flower, all crumpled and stained with tears. He wanted to shake your shoulders and yell, ‘How could you let this happen to you?�� but knew you would never fight back against children, innocent or not.

“Oh, my love, you okay?” He muttered, kneeling down to meet eye level with you. “What happened?”

It was obvious what happened. Some demon-spawn decided to torment the nicest person in the village, knowing she wouldn’t retaliate. If he could just lay his hands on them, they’d be dead. DEA—

“I was walking back home with groceries when the kids must have thought it’d be funny to play a prank on me. They had me circled and started throwing rocks and rotten food at me. I’m fine now, though,” You smiled weakly, wiping your tears with a clean sleeve, “Thanks for coming to my rescue. Give me a hand?”

He grabbed your delicate hand and helped you up. You dusted yourself off and sighed, making way to pick up the groceries that had all but scattered across the dirt path. He mimicked your actions and before long, your groceries were back in your crumpled brown bag, although beat up and dirty.

You were too nice for your own good. Because even now you didn’t show anger against those children or try to get Shanks, the strongest man in the village at the moment, to do anything about it.

When he asked you why, you responded, “Because knowing the village, it was the adults who put them up to this. In fact I recognized two of those kids, and they usually come into the shop just to visit and give me flowers. I pity them all, knowing they’ll grow up to be the same as their parents, with hatred and distrust in their hearts. One of them looked like they were four years old, Shanks, four. How could I beat up a toddler, let alone get you to do it for me?”

Too nice indeed. Because to be honest (and hopefully you’d never find this out), Shanks was fully prepared to dunk a kid in a trash can and shut the lid if you just asked.

“In any case, I’m just glad you’re okay. Are you going back to the shop?” He asked.

You paused to think about it. “…No. I don’t really feel up to running the store right now.”

“I don’t blame you.” You seemed so sad. Shanks felt his heart twist painfully to see your usually bright self so demure, and not in the good way. He would do anything to get you to smile again.

An idea came to him. “Say, how about I give you a tour of the Red Force? You haven’t been on it yet, right?”

That seemed to perk you right up. “Oh wow, really? I’d love that! I’m surprised you haven’t offered sooner, to be honest. I’ve been dying to see your ship, just didn’t want to impose.”

You looked down at yourself sheepishly.

“Uh, can I go home and get changed first? I’m not exactly in the best condition for an outing right now.”

“Of course,” He stepped closer to you, “I don’t mind if you get changed. Although I’d like if you had nothing to change with at all.” He ended that with a wink, smirking as he saw you glow bright red.

“Oh my god, Shanks!” You jumped to cover his mouth looking around to see if anyone else heard that, “ We’re in public! ”

He moved your hands out of the way, grinning like a madman. “Oho. So you wouldn’t mind if it was in private, yeah?”

You were crimson at this point, and Shanks loved every second of it. By Davey Jones,  you were so cute. Your response though, had his head going into overdrive.

“I…” You fidgeted shyly, “I mean…. not really ,” You muttered that last part, and it took Shanks everything in him not to take you home and bed you right then and there.

He wanted to touch you, and bad.

“Getting bold, are we?” He bent over to say lowly against your ear.

“I mean—woah!” He had scooped you up in one arm, impressively. “Shanks, put me down! You’ll get your clothes dirty.”

“No can do. I saw the way you were avoiding putting pressure on your left leg. You hurt your ankle, didn’t ya?”

You looked away embarrassed and sighed. “Yes,” you mumbled, “But I can still walk!”

“Would you rather this, or me beat up those kids?”

“Ugh. This.”

“Then let me do this for you, yeah? It’s the least I can do for my pocket of sunshine.”

You smiled at the nickname and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

Again, it took everything in him not to bed you right then and there.

—————————-

You had a blast getting to see the ship. It was big up close, but even bigger inside. You got to meet the rest of the crew, and was pleased to see Yasopp drinking one of your signature teas. He offered the two of you some, and the three of you both shared a cup for a brief but enjoyable moment.

By the time Shanks’s impromptu tour was over, the sun was lowering into a nice, warm sunset.

Shanks had walked you all the way home like the handsome gentleman he was. He always looked at you with such fierce passion that you could melt under his stare. Today, it was even more apparent, and you had trouble making eye contact with him.

When you finally had the courage to not look down at your feet though, you noticed he was staring at you with such a serious expression that you thought something was wrong.

“Thanks for everything today, Shanks. Is there something bothering you? You look like you got something on your mind.”

He looked at you for a moment, silent. His large hands clasped over yours with a gentle squeeze.

“…Come with me, sunshine. I can take you far, far away from these people and keep you safe.”

You seemed to hesitate, something he noticed. But you simply looked at him with sad eyes and shook your head no.

“You know I can’t, Red. I can’t leave my shop. And look,” You pointed at your bandaged neck, “Can’t exactly leave when the only known medicine for my condition is on this island, can’t I?”

“Then we’ll get you a doctor. We can find someone in the New World to heal you, or at least find a way to keep those flowers that you need alive in soil not from this island,” He was pleading with you, and your heart broke at the sound.

“But you don’t know that for sure. And I don’t want to be a burden on the crew when I’m already as fragile as I am.”

Silence.

“I’m…I’m sorry.” You looked down at your feet.

The man remained unmoving from his position. A dark shadow covered his face.

“No.”

He gripped your forearms. Strong enough that you couldn’t budge, but not enough to hurt you.

“You don’t understand, Love. I can take care of you. In more ways than one.”

“No,” he muttered, and it felt like it was to himself, “No. I am not leaving you behind. Not when you’re right here and suffering, when I can do something. Not when I need you.”

He leaned in, staring deep into your eyes.

“And I know you need me too. Don’t you?”

The way he stared at you, with loving, worried eyes made your heart melt. Eyes that were desperate to keep you. Tears prickled your eyes as you smiled weakly.

“You jerk. You already know the answer to that.”

He chuckled softly. “I know. But I want to hear you say it.”

“I need you, Red.”

No reaction.

You sighed. “I need you, Shanks.”

He wrapped you tightly in his embrace, enveloping your body with his like a strong cocoon shielding you from the outside world.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, soaking in eachother’s warmth. Part of you was tempted to invite him, beg him to stay.

Eventually the two of you parted ways, him stopping at your door and giving you a kiss goodnight. You smiled as he walked away with a wave, evening sun illuminating his crimson hair.

You closed the door and prepared for bed.

Later that night, your thoughts roamed to your beloved pirate captain.

He was so strong, stronger than you could ever be. And part of you hoped you could stay shielded under him forever. You always felt like no harm could come to you when he was around. That with him, everything would be okay.

If only you knew at the time what he was capable of.

—————————-

Shanks laid in his bed and pondered ways to keep you with him. He was leaving soon, and he knew you had too many attachments to this island to persuade you to leave with him and the crew.

And like a match being struck, an incongruous idea formed in his head. One he knew you’d never forgive him for if you found out. Hell, you’d probably hate him for the rest of your life.

It was simple, really. Get rid of your attachments. That way, the only thing you’d be attached to was him. In a way, he was doing you more than one favor. The villagers treated you like shit, and he could make sure your life was far happier than what it was now. No one would dare mistreat you ever again.

Yeah. It was a good idea. An idea so good he immediately hopped off his bed, and got to work. He checked the clock in his quarters.

Half past midnight. Good. That means no one would be around to see what he did. He carefully slipped out of the ship, watchful as to not wake any of his crew members or catch the attention of Beckman, who was on watch duty that night. In his hand was a large canister of kerosene.

Once he reached his destination, he looked up at the delicate sign you had crafted.

Floral Feelings .

Feelings, huh? You could blame feelings for what was to come. He had such intense feelings for you that he’d do anything, anything to get you to stay by his side.

Shanks was a simple man. Drink a lot, sleep a lot, sail a lot, work a lot. And when his loved ones were hurt, do everything in his power to remedy the problem. Even if it meant hurting in the beginning.

Breaking into the building, he splashed oil onto the floor, on the counters, on the flowers, and the walls. He noticed those damned crystal flowers and knocked the entire vase onto the floor, satisfied with the loud crash that resonated in the building.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he stepped outside, carefully maintaining distance from the small structure. Pulling a match from his waistband, he lit it, and threw it into the oil covered doors with a simple flick.

Chapter 3: Morning Glory - Obsession

The village officers say it happened in the dead of night.

No one heard it happen, and the culprit left no traces that’d help with any investigation. The best thing they could do was write it off as an accident, and hope your insurance would reimburse you for most of the damages.

They questioned you for over an hour, filling their books with useless information that’d do nothing to help find the culprit. They had even considered you to be a suspect, but the fierce look in your eyes and a seething glare had them scratching that off the book as soon as the suggestion came. When they left, you were all alone.

You just stared, eyeing the rubble that was left of your store.

Your pride and joy was reduced to nothing but ash.

What’s worse is you knew one of the villagers did it. But who? Everyone in this blasted town had something against you. Was it Marnie, the mother of three that blamed you for throwing her decor shop out of business? Or Riley, the man who was convinced you were a witch? Maybe even Lucina, who you fired after finding out she was deliberately poisoning your plants a week into work.

It could even be one of the teenagers that seemed to hate your guts for no reason. They would enjoy a prank like this. You wouldn’t be surprised.

You held yourself in a weak attempt at comfort. What you really needed was Shanks. You couldn’t handle this place anymore.

No, you wanted to leave .

As you trudged your way to the Red Force, the mocking marmalade sky reminded you of the flames that must have engulfed your shop in the night. Tears fell down your face as you thought of years of hard work and memories — lost to the wind, just like that.

By the time you made it to the dock, Yassop was there, ready to make his way to your shop. He didn’t question your teary eyed expression or soot stained dress. Word must have spread quick, because he offered his condolences and silently lead you to Shanks’s quarters. When you arrived at the door, he gave you a pat on the back and left you to your own devices.

—————————————-

Aboard the Red Force, all was quiet. It was later into the evening, and supper was served not too long ago. The captain of the Red-Hair pirates was sitting at his desk, eyeing the clock every other moment, waiting for your appearance. According to Beckman the villagers were gossiping up a storm about the fire since this morning. There was no way you haven’t gone to see your shop yet. Knowing you, you’d come around when you were ready to talk, but he worried about leaving you alone at such a vulnerable time. Maybe he should seek you out. Why haven’t you come to him yet?

Shanks sighed, continuing to go over logs until a gentle rapt at the door caught his attention. It couldn’t have been his noisy men, who had a tendency to barge in unannounced. Who the hell was bothering him at this hour?

“Who is it?” He inquired.

“…Shanks? It’s me.” A muffled voice muttered through the door.

“Sunshine??” He quickly got up from his desk, pulling his things back into their respective drawers.

Shuffling to the door, he was greeted by none other than you, your beautiful face stained and red with tears.

“Oh no, Sunshine. Come here.” He quickly wrapped you in a warm embrace.

“My shop…it’s all gone, Shanks,” you sobbed, “They burned it all down.”

“Yasopp just told me earlier. Believe me, I was going to come see you as soon as I heard the news. I just had to wrap things up so we could depart soon.”

“Don’t go…” You sniffled weakly against his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere, Love. Least not yet.” He reassured you.

You poor thing. All teary eyed and heartbroken. It hurt to see you like this. He may have been the reason for it, but your pained expression still angered him to see. What a hypocrite he was, but if anyone else had caused it they’d be dead in a heartbeat.

“You wanna sit down?”

You shook your head no, sniffling.

“Well we can’t stand here forever. Here, come in and si—“

“Shanks…” You interrupted meekly, pulling at his shirt, “What am I supposed to do now?”

He held you tighter. “One step at a time, Love. We can figure this out one step at a time.”

“I’ve tried so hard to be accepted by these people. But what have I got to show for it? Nothing but food and rocks thrown at me, and the burning of my most prized possession. It’s all just hideous.”

You blinked up at him, “I…I just want to stop thinking for a moment. Please help me forget, Shanks.”

“Sure, just come in so we can sit and chat about something else.”

You looked away, as if pondering the proposition for a moment.

The man stopped breathing when he felt you pull his shirt collar towards yourself, kissing him right on the lips. To his chagrin, you parted after a minute, trailing kisses down his neck.

“I’d rather do something else…”

Oh . Well if that’s how you wanted to forget, he could absolutely do that.

“Love, are you sure?” He still wanted to be a gentleman, giving you another way out before he locked you in . Because once he had you, he wasn’t going to let you go.

You nodded.

Gingerly, as if afraid to break you, his hand trailed down from your back to your hips, and he leaned forward to gently caress your mouth with his tongue. The first kiss was soft, with you reaching to wrap your arms over his neck. Your arms tightened, you pressing your tongue back against his to fight your way in. He relented easily, letting you dominate. His body was tingling when he felt your tongue trail inside his mouth.

When the two of you parted lips, you were panting heavily. You looked so good right then, cheeks pink with puffy red lips.

“C’mere,” Shanks ushered. Once you two were both inside, he shut the door with a heavy bang , making sure to lock the door behind him.

As soon as that door was shut, he pushed your sniveling form onto his bed, crawling over you to meet your eyes. The bed creaked under his weight.

“Oh, you poor thing. I’ll make sure you forget everything, sweetheart. Just trust me.” He wiped a tear from your eye.

You reached out for him, and his heart ached.

Without much effort, he lifted your dress off your head. It took every fiber of restraint in his being not to just tear your clothes off.

“Oh, you’re so beautiful.”

He stared down at your bare chest, your delicate mounds rising and lowering quickly with excitement.

“You’re far more beautiful,” You said with a gentle smile. You began to pet his hair and he almost growled. “Please,” you pleaded, “Just take me.”

“Fuck. You have no idea how long I’ve been holding myself back. I’ve been so scared that I’d scare you away or break you. You’re absolutely perfect.”

You giggled softly. “I’m stronger than I look, Shanks. I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

His eyes raked over your pretty form hungrily. He was going to consume you, and he had your permission to do it. Life couldn’t get any better than this.

You shook under his predatory gaze, looking away abashedly.

“Aw, come on now. Look at me. I wanna see your gorgeous eyes.”

You slowly moved back to look at him, enamored by those heavily-lidded eyes gazing upon you with such passion.

He made quick work with your undergarments. Before you knew it, your undies and bra were on the other side of the room, his own pants following after.

“May I?” He asked, leaning close to your face.

You nodded again.

Using his hand to lean atop you, his mouth met one of your hardened nipples, tongue rolling around in a circle.

You gasped at the sensation, lowly moaning as he suckled on your breast.

You mewled, and oh, how he’d love to hear that sound every day. At this point, he wished he still had his other arm so he could touch you all over. He’d have to make due. His knee moved up to your crotch, and you whined at the pleasure of it pressing against you.

He detached from your nipple with a loud pop . “Didja like that, baby?”

You nodded shyly, bringing your hands to your face in a cute attempt to cover your blushing cheeks.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine? I said I wanted to look at ya.”

“It’s just—I’m only now realizing that I asked for this, but uh, I’m inexperienced. I haven’t done this in a long, long time,” Your admitted, voice trailing off into a quiet mumble, “…this is embarrassing. And it doesn’t help that you’re really attractive.” You patted your cheeks like you wanted to wake yourself up.

He chuckled softly at that. You were so . Fucking . Endearing . “I’ll take care of you, Love. Just gotta relax for me, yeah? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You look stunning.”

“And look,” You squeaked when he kneeled back to rub your sex with his large hand, shortly before lifting it up and splaying his fingers out to display your slick coating his fingers, “You’re already doing so good right now. All nice and wet for me.”

“I-I—-hnggggg,” You bemoaned, hand reaching to cover your face again before Shanks caught it.

“Ah-ah-ah. Keep doing that and I’ll have to tie you to the bed post. Or would ya like that, eh?”

You were a blushing, stuttering mess at this point, both aroused and mortified like there was no tomorrow.

“I….maybe? I dunno, Shanks.”

Oh fuck yes.

The image of you chained to his bed, begging for action or inaction, had his lower member throbbing .

Your words let out some sort of primal beast in him, because his desire never felt so strong in his life. His instincts told him to claim you and to claim you NOW, and never let you go until the ends of time.

That’s it. He wanted you now, and bad.

But he had to be patient. You were in his grasps and the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off.

Patience, Shanks. You already made it this far , he told himself.

You gasped at the feeling of his cock poking your entrance.

“I don’t wanna wait anymore, baby. Can I?” He breathed.

You smiled shyly at his request, sending his heart over the moon. “Please.”

That was all he needed. He grunted as he pushed himself into you. God, you felt so tight and warm . If it was up to him he’d like to stay like that forever. He started slowly, pumping in and out of you in the best missionary position he could muster with one hand.

“Ahhh, Shanks,” You cried sweetly. “Th—that feels nice .”

He leaned fully into you, his large torso nearly crushing yours as he made way to encroach his dick into the deepest part of your being. You looked so good with your breasts crushed between your legs. The two of you shared a heated kiss, Shanks thrusting into you harder as his tongue explored the cave of your mouth.

“Fuck, Sunshine. I could fuck you all day. You like your pussy getting pounded?”

You could do nothing but cry out in pleasure, which was all the ‘yes’ he needed.

“Roll to the side for me, baby.” As you laid on your side, he did too, his thick cock sliding in from behind you. He grabbed your leg and lifted it up for better leeway, grunting as he pumped you full with his dick.

“Oh fuck, Shanks, you feel too good. You’re making me feel so good right now.” You praised. He moaned at your words, teeth sinking into your soft neck. He peppered your tender throat with kisses, never stopping his rhythm, if anything slamming into you harder after hearing those words.

You looked so fucking sexy, laid out like a fine gift just for him. He was never one for marriage, being a pirate and all, but here and now he knew you’d be the one. Your ass was so hot as it jiggled, and he was obsessed with watching the perfect way your wet pussy took his dick in so easily. It’s like you were made for him, just for him and only for him.

It made him thrilled to know you hadn’t done something like this with anyone else in a long time. He was taking his time, and he absolutely loved it. He loved YOU. So fucking much.

He flipped you so you were now on your stomach. “On your knees,” He commanded huskily, voice thick with lust.

As soon as you obliged, his breath hitched at how utterly dirty you looked from behind, ass out, pussy dripping with wetness.

Your moans were sweet, so sweet. He cursed under his breath, eyes glued to the way your pussy was forming a white ring on his dick as he drilled into you from behind.

He didn’t ignore the way he felt you clenching tighter. A pleased smirk etched across his face. “That’s it, baby. You gonna come for me? Huh?”

“Hahhhh, yes!” You whined breathlessly as Shanks took you to paradise, forgetting all your troubles as you reached your high. “God, I’m coming!”

“Good girl.” That seemed to really set you off, because immediately after you moaned loudly, inner walls of your vagina beating rhythmically. He kept going, fucking you through your orgasm, much to his pleasure and your distress.

“W-wait, Shanks! I can’t take anymore, I’m— ahhh —really sensitive right now!”

“Oh, yes you can. Can’t you feel the way you’re sucking me in? Come on and take it, baby. You’re doing so good right now.” He slapped your ass and you yelped.

“Mmm, it feels too good,” Whined your cute self.

“You’re cute, ya know that? I just wanna spoil you and take care of you like this every day.”

“I’d like that,” You voiced between pants.

“Atta girl,” The red-haired man praised, leaning into you so could cup your breast with his hand.

He whispered into your ear, “I love the sounds you make, Sunshine. You know how long I’ve dreamed of doing this? God, what you do to me.”

And now that he had you, he’d be hard pressed to let you go.

“Shanks, let me ride you. I wanna see your face.”

“Sure thing, Love.”

So you two switched positions again. Shanks laid on the mattress, leaning back as he watched you insert himself into you.

It was such a turn on watching the way your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you started grinding your hips into him. You leaned forward to give him a kiss on the lips.

“Let me help you with that,” He offered.

“What do you mea—ah!”

Shanks started thrusting as fast as he could into you, satisfied with the way your pussy tightened on him at every thrust. You held onto him tightly, fingers clawing at his back in a way that he didn’t mind.

You were moaning so lewdly. He felt himself slipping away, imagining a nice, cozy future together where he could fuck you as much as he liked. As much as you wanted.

Shit, he was gonna cum soon.

The fact that you felt so nice and warm was absolutely too much for him to handle.

“Fuck, baby, I think I’m gonna cum.”

You started suckling on his neck with vigor that was bound to leave nasty hickeys later, but he didn’t care.

“Keep going,” You ushered, “Don’t stop.”

“Shit, baby, you sure?” He said, sounding much more affected with each thrust.

He wasn’t expecting to come inside you but if that’s what you wanted, then fuck it.

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna come too!”

His breathing become haggard as he gripped your ass cheek with his hand, pumping into you like a madman. Finally, he felt that sweet release he was itching for as he let out ropes of cum into your pussy, your walls sucking him dry. You rode him even when he had nothing left to give dick sensitive to the touch.

You hopped off him and collapsed at his side, breathing heavily. He eyed the way cum slid down his dick, no thanks to you.

He gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“You did amazing, baby,” He praised.

“So did you. That felt great.”

The two of you laid there in silence, until you broke it. “I love you, Shanks.”

“I love you too. More than anything in the world.”

“…Take me with you, Shanks. I wanna join your crew.”

He shot right up at that. There was a twinkle in his eye. “Seriously? You mean it?”

You nodded, lips curving into the tiniest of smiles. “I can’t bear to see you go. And besides, ‘s not like I have anything left here anyways. Just…promise me we can find a doctor to help me?”

“Of course, Love, of course. Man I’m so glad you said that. I was seriously considering just snatching you away and taking you with us.”

You laughed at that, unaware he seriously meant it.

The idea was getting him all excited again.

“Say, you wanna go another round?”

“What—hey!”

And he was all over you, dragging kisses down your chest before you could say anything.

Chapter 4: Bonus Chapter : The Aftermath

“So, guess that’s everything!” You announced with the clap of your hands.

“Really? This isn’t a lot of stuff, Sunshine.”

You and Shanks were up early, packing your things so you’d be ready for the Red Force’s departure.

You scratched your head sheepishly. “Yeah, I don’t own many things. Being a florist doesn’t exactly earn you a mean amount of Berries, you know? Besides, I sold most of what I owned over the course of this week to have some pocket money.”

You were only bringing three bags with you : one for your clothes, one for your nic-nacs, and one small pouch for your medicines,  containing a stash of dried medicinal flowers for your illness. That’d keep your condition at bay for a month and a half, thankfully.

“Well, we have plenty of time to remedy that. Our band of misfits aren’t exactly broke, you know.”

“Aw, is Red trying to spoil me?”

“Only if you want.” He was standing beside you, hand on your hip as he gave you a peck on the cheek, watching with amazement at how fast your ears turned pink. Despite having gone all the way with him, you still felt like a shy, smitten schoolgirl around him. Perhaps the butterflies would wane over time.

“I appreciate it, but maybe another time. I got my own money to spend now, and I’d hate to use the ship’s coffers just for myself.”

“I mean, it’s gonna be inevitable, Love. We kind of have to pick up furnishings for your room. Unless you’d rather live in the captain’s quarters.”

“I mean….can I? Wait—I mean, only if you’re okay with that, I’m not saying I want your space and all, it’s just you’ll be there andIwon’thavetobealoneatnightand—“

Shanks beamed. “Woah, woah, slow your roll there pal. I’d love for you to stay with me. Contrary to popular belief, this cold-blooded captain gets lonely at night.

Your brightened at that.

“That being said, you’ll still have your own room to hang out in when you need space, and to hold all your things.”

“I understand,” You relented, “Where would we shop though?”

“In the village, of course. It’ll be a whole excursion. And I want you there to see the way they look at me when I walk into their shops. The faces they make are hilarious! You’re not the only one they dislike, ya know.” He gave you a hard pat on the back, making you go ‘oof’.

Once the two of you got your belongings on the ship, your trip around the village shops began. Shanks was right, seeing the villagers’ faces as your big bad captain showed up at their shop was hilarious. They didn’t even bother making any snide remarks to you because they were so busy being scared shitless of Shanks. The crimson haired man insisted you buy something for yourself on his dime, so you opted for a cheap sunhat and a new dress. Most of the shopping was dedicated to your would-be room, Shanks promising the shopkeeps he’d be back with his crew (that made one man nearly faint) to grab the furnishings after lunch.

The two of you were walking back to the dock.

“Shanks, I’m not getting anymore clothes,” You said after noticing he slipped a new pair of shoes into his bag.

“Well, who said they were for you?”

You threw him a look. “I don’t think you wear shoes that small. Unless you mean to buy for another woman.”

He threw you one back. “No way, don’t even joke about it. I’m loyal to you and to you alone, Sunshine.”

“Relax, big boy. I get it,” You smiled, “I’m loyal to you too.”

You sighed. “At least you’re better than my old boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah?” Inquired Shanks, a dangerous lilt in his voice that you failed to notice, “What was he like?”

“Handsome,” (Shanks did not like that), “A real heart stopper. But that was all he ever was. He was a playboy. Unreliable. Cheated on me with another girl and ran off with her. Last I heard, he became a shipwright in Water Seven. With a girl besides the one he cheated on me with, of course.”

“Damn, if I ever see him I’ll kick him in the balls for ya.”

You cackled at that. “Thanks, but I’d rather be the one to do it myself.”

“Feisty, eh?”

“Just for you, Shanks. Hey, where are you going?” You noticed he turned the opposite corner, which led to an alleyway. You followed suit, surprised when your back was pressed against the wall.

You gasped as a warm tongue quickly pushed its way into your mouth, a hand squeezing your waist as you were pulled into a demanding kiss.

When you parted ways, you were gasping for air. “W-what was that all about?”

There was a dark look in Shanks’s eyes, “Just claiming what’s mine. I don’t like it when you talk about other men in front of me. Or ever.”

Your cheeks felt terribly hot. And you found his possessiveness actually attractive rather than gross or controlling.

“Uh, I see,” You didn’t really know how to respond, “Guess I won’t do it again, haha.”

“Good girl.”

He gave you a kiss on the forehead, staring into your eyes as he spoke, “Let’s head back to the ship, yeah? There’s something I wanna do when we get back…”

You gulped. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

——————————————————-

Bonus POV: Shanks

You and I were packing your things early in the morning to bring to the Red Force. Without a doubt, I was ecstatic.

Truth be told, it was getting hard to part ways when we made out to sea. This time, I wouldn’t leave the island without you. I’m so glad you offered to come with me in the end.

Although, it did need a little encouragement.

Nonetheless I was happy. Only problem was you barely had anything to bring to the ship. This wouldn’t do. I didn’t realize how little you had until you mentioned not affording much as a florist.

My chest felt a pang of guilt at not noticing your needs. That was going to change though. From now on, I’d take care of you and make sure you were happy and would want for nothing. I offered to take you shopping since we needed furniture for your prospective room, anyways.

When you said you’d like to sleep in my quarters with me, I could feel my heart skip a beat. Everything about you was so perfect to me. And the fact that you reciprocated my feelings had me over the moon.

We ended up going shopping, and enjoyed mocking the villagers together. You were really amused to see their terrified faces at my presence. I don’t think you realized most people fear me, and that’s it’s kind of the normal reaction to have with pirates. Especially towards a Yonko like me. But that’s why I liked you in the first place. Because you weren’t scared. You treated everyone with respect and dignity, regardless of their situation. I’m glad you weren’t afraid of pirates.

That being said, if you ever got too friendly with another pirate crew (Whitebeard’s sons beware), there’d be hell to pay. I’m still trying to get the name of the sonofabitch who proposed to you, but you won’t relent. Probably because you know I’d make a complaint to Whitebeard. Smart girl.

You ended up buying a sunhat and a dress, much to my chagrin. I wish you got more things, but I understand you didn’t want to use my dime for your stuff. Hopefully that’d change in the future. You aren’t just my girlfriend anymore, you’re part of the crew. And I want to take care of you. It’d take some adjusting, but I know you’ll eventually grow to rely on me.

We were done shopping and headed towards the ship when you suddenly brought up your old boyfriend. Why? I felt jealousy surge inside me, but I bit my tongue and held back. Yassop had told me before that I need to work on keeping my possessiveness in check. Didn’t wanna scare you off, after all.

So I listened as you called him handsome, and then went on to call him a cheater, listing all the other terrible things about him that made you two separate. He sounded like a mouse of a man. You could have done better. But that was all in the past, right? You were doing better now.

You were mine. And mine alone. The thought always excited me, maybe to an unhealthy degree.

I led you to an alleyway so I could kiss you in private. I couldn’t handle the lack of physical touch when we were so close together. I absolutely loved the way you tasted, I do everytime we kiss.

I love you. I love you so much.

Do I regret hurting you to get the outcome I wanted? Not one bit. I’d do it again, even if it means you’d find out. 

Because now, I had you all to myself.

[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

[birdy-bat-writes]

Coffee for Mrs. Seresin?

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

Content warnings: Pining, fluff, and uh.... caffeine? Mild swears, Maybe some banter. I have no clue what qualifies as a warning anymore, I'm so sorry, y'all:') Also, sorry for the spelling, grammar, and punctuation errors.

A/n: Should I be doing math right now? Should I actually be sleeping right now? Yes and yes, BUT no one can blame me. I was reading an adorable Jake Seresin Fanfic by @roosterbruiser (everyone go read Millie's work, it's gold) and I got an idea and I had to write it somewhere so here:D

You were pretty used to people assuming you and Jake were an item. When an attractive guy and an attractive girl have been friends since college and spend as much time together as you both do, you suppose it's a fair conclusion for people to draw, but an incorrect one, nonetheless. And you really wish people would stop asking because every time you had to explain to someone how you were "just friends," it ate you a little more inside.

The fact of the matter was this: you were in love with your best friend. And it sucked.

You stepped out of your car and strode along the stone walkway amidst the grass up to Rooster's door and rang the bell. It was a cute little townhouse with a blue exterior and you often poked fun at him for how much it resembled a little wooden birdhouse with its colorful walls and white wood-rimmed windows. You suppose it's fitting since Rooster lives there and yes, he hates that gag. It also serves as your group's prime hang-out spot, which is why you're here now.

The door opened to reveal Natasha, wrapped up in an oversized sweatshirt with her hair thrown up in a claw clip. "Yes, you brought chips!"

"Yeah, you didn't really specify which flavor so I just got them all." You said, walking in. "Guests should start coming in an hour, right?"

"Mmm-hmm." The 7 of you were throwing a casual party to celebrate Jake's promotion to Lieutenant-Commander. You saw Nat lift her eyes and smirk. "And there he is, the man of the hour." You turned around to see Jake at the end of the staircase.

"Well, hello, Mr. Man-of-the-hour," you teased, setting down the numerous bags of chips you were holding.

"Glad you're finally here, N/N. I was starting to think you were going to leave me here to fend for myself against Rooster's ABBA medley." Jake wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. It was always like this. Him giving you butterflies you had to ignore because there was inevitably some other girl.

"Oh please, I would never leave you to fend for yourself against Rooster. I would join him and together, we'd overpower you and make you listen to ABBA forever." You grinned up at him and he narrowed his eyes, lips quirking up at the corners.

"Betrayal never comes from an enemy, I see," he shook his head at you. "I will leave you, lovely ladies, to yourselves. If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen." You watched Jake walk away and disappear around the corner. When you turned back, Natasha was still wearing that smug smile she always did when she saw you two. You knew it was coming.

"Nix, I'm telling you, if you say it, I'm salting your coffee." She knew you were messing with her but one of these days, you might just do it.

"All I'm saying is, shoot your shot! Come on, just once before you go settle for this rando."

"Mark is not a rando. We know him from accounting!"

"Exactly, Y/N, we know him from accounting. You don't even like the guy, heck you hardly know him."

"Exactly. That's why we're going to get to know each other at this party. I need to get over this crush, now. I can't keep pining for a guy who has no interest in me," you saw Natasha's mouth open as if to say something and you quickly jumped in, "And don't say he's interested. He's been with other girls multiple times and never once looked at me like that."

"True, I won't argue there. He's never looked at any of those girls the way he was just looking at you either." She took her hair out of her claw clip and it fell onto her shoulders in soft waves. "And ever since we all got back from that mission 3 months ago, he hasn't been with anyone. I really think he's got a thing for you but you're right. You should give this Mark guy a shot if you think he'd be good for you."

You smiled softly. You met Jake's friends when you were in San Diego a few years back. About a year ago, you were permanently stationed here and luckily for you, Jake was too. He settled here about 4 months before you. All his friends became your friends, and you've truly never known a better group of people. And they'd never known someone who could wrangle Hangman, so you were quite quickly welcomed to the group.

You and Pheonix tossed your sweatshirts upstairs and fixed up the last bits of your outfits just in time for guests to start arriving. You even managed to slip in a game of cards with Fanboy, Bob, and Payback before you joined a crowd in the living room. You barely felt the tap on your shoulder. If it wasn't followed by your name, you surely would have missed it. You turned on your heel to see Mark from accounting, facing you with a hand in his pocket.

"Mark, hi!"

"Hey. How are you?" His voice was almost monotone. His eyes roamed the room rather than meeting yours. He had just gotten here and he already sounded like he wanted to be somewhere else. You could have sworn he sounded more lively when you met.

"I'm good. I thought you weren't coming till later."

"I got off work early."

"Ah, well that's great." This guy really wasn't giving you much to work with. "Can I get you something to drink? There are drinks and food in the kitchen." That actually went somewhere. You headed to the kitchen where the conversation just barely picked up.

In the distance, Jake noticed your prolonged absence. As silly as it was, Jake liked knowing you were near him. You didn't have to be attached at the hip but he liked knowing he could saunter over to you and escape into your laugh when you came up in his mind. Which was a lot.

He scanned the room for you and stopped when he caught your frame in the kitchen...with some guy? Who the hell was that?

"Damn, if looks could kill...," Rooster muttered. "Do you not like that dude or something?"

"I don't even know who he is," Jake said through gritted teeth. "What's his name?"

"No clue. Pheonix?"

As if on cue, Natasha spoke up. "That, my friends, is Mark from accounting." Both the boys looked at her with questioning eyes.

"Okay, but who is he?" Something in Jake's voice was different now. Both of them looked at him.

"Careful there, Bagman, you almost sound jealous. He's some guy Y/N knows and I think she likes him." Phoenix was searching Jake's face for any sign that she was right about his feelings for you, and he never noticed because his eyes were trained on you like a hawk.

"I'm not jealous, Pheonix."

"You kinda sound jealous, Hangman," Rooster added, earning a glare from Jake.

"Okay, when we first met and you told me about her, you sounded so lovesick, I thought she was your wife. Cut to, you introduce us all and it turns out you're not married, or dating, but friends? I'm sorry, I do not believe that you two don't have feelings for each other." Natasha's remark sparked something in Jake. She watched the corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk so small, she almost missed it.

"I'll be right back." Jake stated, already pacing away. Rooster and Pheonix watched Jake make his way into the kitchen.

"She likes him too right?" Rooster asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Pheonix responded.

"You know, Fanboy has a betting pool on them."

"What? Get me on this, I have a feeling we'll make some money tonight."

Jake entered the kitchen to see you sitting alone at the table. "Got room for one more?"

"I don't see why not. Shouldn't you be mingling with everyone out there?"

"Well, the person I want to mingle with is in here." You smiled at him. There it was again, that smile that always left him utterly defenseless. "Who's the guy?"

You don't know why you felt your cheeks heat up when Jake asked about him. "His name's Mark. I met him when I was sorting reports last week."

"Okay. So, why do you sound so upset?"

"Because he said he was going to get us drinks 5 minutes ago and I just saw him leave with Commander Reeves' daughter." Honestly, you weren't upset because he left. You were upset because you were glad he did. He was boring you out of your mind and you two absolutely did not click, but it was still disheartening to know that this is what it was going to be like. No guy was going to measure up to the one you wished you were with. The one who was at this table with you now.

Jake was seething. What kind of idiot comes to a party and leaves you for some other girl? "You wanna get out of here?"

"What?"

"Let's leave. I'm bored."

"It's your party, you dork, you can't just leave!" You were giggling at a feeling somewhere in between confusion and disbelief.

"Yeah, it is my party so I say, you and I get out of here." He took you by the hand and walked you out through the back door to his car. And you let him. The chilly air swept you both up.

The drive was pretty calm. You didn't know where Jake was going but you didn't care either. This reminded you of when you two were younger. The long quiet rides in the car with no one but each other for company. He'd put on some cheesy 80's power ballad and you'd both laugh at it until you'd give in and belt it out at the top of your lungs.

"If you don't mind my asking, what did you see in him?"

"I don't really even remember. I think I just wanted to try and get myself out there. I haven't been on a date in literally years."

Jake hesitated before he asked. "So... what made you want to start now?" You felt the words catch in your throat.

"I'm not sure." you lied. You. I'm in love with you and I can't take it.

You felt the car slow down. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even see where Jake parked. A cute little coffee shop and patisserie. Jake got out of his car and rounded the front to open the door for you. He already had you head over heels for him and he didn't even know it. Did he have to be such a gentleman? You weren't sure that you could fall even harder for this man but you really didn't want to find out.

"Why don't you get us a table and I'll get us something to drink. Don't worry, I remember what you like." You nodded and found a two-seat table by the french windows overlooking the city. On the left, in the distance, the last light of sunset was hitting the water and the top of the sky had started to go dark. Little stars twinkled above you. You wondered what it would be like to always be like this? Evenings with you and Jake, running off alone together from places and people you didn't really want to see. Taking comfort in each other's presence because it felt like home. Just then, Jake sat down in front of you. It almost hurt knowing he was right in front of you and you couldn't have him.

"Screw stupid Mark from accounting. He was not worth your time."

"Thanks. It's fine really, I'll find someone else. Someone less boring." When you met Jake's eyes, he looked as if he had something to say. Something he was holding back. "What is it?"

"Don't find someone else."

Did he just- Did you hear him right?

"What? Why?"

"Because-"

"I have a coffee and a latte for Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?" The barista called. You actually felt your heart skip a beat. Your eyebrows scrunched together and you looked to Jake for answers.

"Well, I think that's us." He blurted like it answered all your questions, a smile heard in his voice.

"Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?" You queried, rising out of your seat in tandem with him. "Why'd you tell her we were 'Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?!'"

"Because you looked so down and I thought I'd get a reaction from you! And it's not all my fault, Pheonix gave me the idea." Jake stated, matter-of-factly. How could he say that so casually?! "And you're still looking red so I guess it worked."

You both grabbed your coffees and sat down once again. It was dark out now. Once your laughs and giggles over your reaction were out, you remembered where your last conversation left off.

"Jake, why'd you tell me not to find someone?" You didn't force the question too hard into the conversation. You asked softly, not knowing how or if he would answer. He sighed before he spoke like he was preparing himself.

"Because...because I can't ask you out if you're dating someone else." The emotions hit you like a bombshell.

"You want to ask me out?" You weren't sure this was real. You were really about to pinch yourself before he stopped you in your tracks.

"I've been meaning to for months. Y/N, we've been friends forever, and I didn't want to ruin what we have. I know I should have told you before because I've liked you for as long as- Why are you smiling?"

"Because, you big dummy, I like you too." You couldn't hold it back. You were beaming. You felt butterflies and fireworks all at once just because the man of your dreams just made it all a reality. Jake held your eyes in his and smiled ear-to-ear. You swore you saw his ears go red but if you asked him, you doubt he’d admit it. "I'm really happy right now but I have no clue what to do next."

"I've got it from here," Jake reaches out and takes your hand in both of his. It feels like electricity is coursing through your veins. "Y/N L/N, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?"

It took everything in you not to squeal in this coffee shop. "Yes, I will do you that honor, Bagman." You responded. He chuckled at you.

"Every now and again, I feel like introducing you to Pheonix was a mistake."

"Speaking of which, I really want to tell her about this but she'll get all smug because she was right."

"You're right. As far as people we don't have to tell yet go, Fanboy and Rooster have been betting on us. We can just keep it from them for now too."

"Deal." A laugh bubbled out of you as you thought about how the squad would react. And then a knock sounded directly next to you on the french window.

"Aww, cute," Rooster noted, his voice muffled by the glass, but still clear enough for you to hear his teasing tone.

"Left your own party so soon?" There stood Pheonix. Along with the rest of the squad leaning against Bradley's bronco.

"Shit." you commented.

"So much for keeping it secret."

———————————————————————

Tag list:

@glorified-red

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Reese as a Sea Bunny faunus?

~At a Certain Kind of Establishment

Reese: *Sees jaune* Oh, you're-

Velvet: Hello Sir! Are you having a good time?

Jaune: Uh, Pardon? Well .. Yeah!

Reese: Heh ...

Reese: *Walking over to Jaune and Velvet* Leave this to me! you can help someone else!

Velvet: Huh? But ...

Reese: It's alright!

Velvet: Oh- okay ... alright then ...

*Velvet leaves*

Reese: *Turns to Jaune* Are you having a good time

Reese: With another "Bunny" Girl?

Jaune: *Thoroughly intimidated* No! I mean- I- I'm sorry?

Fun Fact! Zelda Wynn Valdes and Latvian émigrée designed/tailored the bunny suit to help enhance and show off the figure for the playboy bunny waitresses in the penthouse! However, they didn't take into account that the guest would be in leather armchairs which is lower than a a regular chair that sit at tables which lead to spillage (and not from the drinks) so the bunny dip was a technique to help by leaning back a little slightly bending the knees and serving drinks and/or food behind them.

~Later~

Jaune: I don't understand how people can have preferences between Humans and Faunus ... We're all pretty much the same.

Neptune: ha! you say things like that, people are gonna think you're picking a fight!

Reese: *Going to serve another customer* Oh hey!

Jaune: *Blushing*

Reese: You're back again! Good to see you! Have fun!

Jaune: Y-Yeah! haha ...

Jaune: *Ahem* L-like I was saying I don't understand why people have preferences ...

Neptune: ... Face the facts man.

Sea Bunnies, or Jorunna Parva, have a set of organs resembling Lagomorphic ears near their 'face.' However, they are not hearing organs, but more akin to Scent organs. Their "tails" are external gills.

~~~~~

Jaune: Hey! Excuse me, are you Miss bunnygirl?

Reese: *beginning to run away* Sorry! You've mistaken me for someone else!

Jaune: Wait! !ou might fall if you suddenly-

Reese: *thud* Ouch!

Jaune: ... Run.

Jaune: *Helping her up* Hey, are you alright? Why did you start running?

Reese: Well, i'm ... not used to getting recognized in casual clothes ...

Jaune: ...? But I usually see you in a bunny suit though?

Reese: There's a separation between work and normal life.

Jaune: ... I'm Jaune by the way. It's nice to officially meet you.

Reese: ... you can call me Reese.

Sea Bunnies come in many colors, but all of them are covered in dark-tipped papillae.

~~~~~

Reese: Hey, how about a game? Whoever loses has to grant the other persona wish!

Jaune: Uh, Okay!

Reese: Rock! Paper! Scissors! Shoot!

Jaune: *Throws paper* ...

Jaune: Reese? Why didn't you extend your hand?

Reese: *Slowly raises her fist* Oh No~ I lost. It seems I'll have to grant you a wish~

Jaune: ... Did you lose on pur-

Reese: NO! Of course not!

Sea bunnies prey on Toxic Sponges. Some of these Toxins are used in Cancer Treatments.

~~~~~

Jaune: *carrying groceries for Reese* You're cute when you're not working Reese!

Reese: Ah ... Really?

~At her apartment~

Jaune: So do I just set these here, or- WHEN DID YOU CHANGE YOUR CLOTHES?

Reese: *in her bunny suit* You said I was cute? *Slams apartment door shut* Right?

Reese: As of right now, I will be working~

Jaune: W-WaiT!

Sea Bunnies are hermaphrodites. when mating, the pair will interlock their genitalia and exchange sperm.

~~~~~

Reese: *Serving Jaune a Drink*

*CLICK*

Reese: Huh?

Jaune: Ah! Aw, the power went out! Hang on, Ill get the

Announcement: Attention dear Customers, there seems to be an issue with the electricity. Please be patient while we fix it.

Jaune: ... I'll ... Turn the flashlight on on my phone- I left it on the table somewhere ...

Reese: Here, let me help look for it to-

*Gentle Squish*

Reese: Uwah!

Jaune: Ah! What happened?

*CLICK*

Jaune: Oh! The lights are back!

Reese: *Holding her hands to her chest*

Jaune: Huh? What's wrong?

Reese: *Blushing against her anger* Patrons Are not allowed to touch the girls at the bar!

Jaune: What Happened?!?

[villainartist]

financial aid needed desperately!!!

hello, i hate that my life has come to this! let me explain my situation: ive been unsuccessfully trying to establish a life in las vegas for 7 months now, and it hasnt been working out. ive had to move into three different houses while ive been out here due to the fact i cannot keep a job long enough to pay my rent at a stable rate. every job ive gotten out here in vegas has typically resulted in poor management, poor scheduling, and quiet firings— they simply stopped scheduling me. i panicked and applied for new jobs immediately, but with the way this world works, they always take their sweet time getting back to you.

ive been trying desperately to hold onto a job for more than two months, but it seems some insane thing out of my control has to happen and throws a wrench in it. my first living situation was with an irresponsible, messy, rude landlord that i had to share a small apartment with. my second living situation was renting a room with four other people in one house, and one of my roommates suddenly got violent one day and screamed at me threatening to hurt me because there was a grain of rice left on the stove, so i had to move quickly. my third and current (soon to be former) situation i was rushed into, moving into an empty room in my landlords house. the rent was too much for me to handle and i cannot pay rent for this month, and im being threatened with eviction. ive been in california for the past week because i managed to get some on-call work out here, but now im essentially stuck here with no clue on what to do next.

i dont know whats wrong with me! ive been able to hold jobs for a whole year, but las vegas has been an utterly miserable, dehumanizing experience. i cant take it anymore. i need ANY sort of help, ANY amount of money to prevent me from going homeless by the end of this month. i dont mean to break out any “buzzwords” here but i am a transgender undiagnosed autistic and morbidly depressed 23 year old who desperately needs some sort of financial and home stability so i have a decent enouh mental health to keep a job. im deathly afraid of becoming homeless, living in my car. there’s not a single person in my life who’s willing to take me in, even if they have empty guest rooms. ive officially become THE black sheep of my family for my constant fuck-ups. they dont want anything to do with me.

for financial aid, here are my venmo and paypal. all donations go straight to my savings account for the sake of rent.

i currently only have 440 in my account (still 200+ short of my rent, and even then, my landlord wants me out and will not talk to me about it further, so i need to find somewhere else to stay.)

venmo

paypal

if you’re in the las vegas area, PLEASE, please reach out to me (usagilaxia@gmail.com) and let me know if you know anyone or anywhere that has rooms for rent, preferably with the maximum being $500-600 a month, i cant go any higher.

that is all for now and thank you so much even for just reading this. i will make sure to reblog with any updates.

[dizzy-after-dark]

Cauterized | Steve Rogers

BOOM MIC DROP: SMUT FOR THE END OF THE YEAR! Y'all didn't think I would not post once this year, did you. Well, here it is. I TRIED! Mwah; see you in 2024!

Tags: Angst (not really but yeah), SMUT, fluff

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader (Third Person)

Notes: UHHHHH 18+ BUCKOS; this is a continuation of Ignorant, which is the first part and angsty as FUCK but a personal fave of mine if I do say so myself; been really thinking about finishing my requests from over a year ago for Dinner At Dizzy's on my other account, @dizzydancingdreamer (masterlist linked if you're feeling peckish)

Warnings (what to expect, ig): oral (f recieving), fingering, sex (???), uhhhm lack of descriptive writing from a rusty author, sappiness, swearing, bad metaphors, shower sex, alcohol consumption (BARELY), size kink, over-use of the word "Stevie"

Word Count: 4.6k

She pushes the door closed, turning the shower on lazily. Her muscles ache as she twists the knob all the way to the left. Somewhere, sometime she was told about cauterization. You can seal wounds closed with fire— forcibly fuse the skin back together. She has no cuts. Nothing to fuse. And only hot water. However, maybe stepping into the scalding stream might fix the part of her brain that keeps replaying it all, over and over. 

Baby I— 

If anything, it might numb her. She would take that too right now. Hence the bottle on the counter, partially drunk and already open. She takes the first swig, the liquid like fuel to the inferno raging in her stomach, burning the rest of her in the process. The taste is acrid— she’s never been much of a drinker. She just wants to forget it all. Setting it down with a clunk, she strips out of grimey shirt, letting it puddle at her feet. 

Looking at the material, which at one point was a stark white but will now forever be a dingy gray, she laughs. Not really but, yeah, kind of— one of those half amused huffs, anyway. A pity laugh, for the state of her life. That shirt is practically trash. Even if she had the time, energy, or resources to wash it, there’s no way it’ll ever be the same. 

She should just throw it out. 

Is she even talking about the shirt anymore?

She kicks it into the corner, hands falling to the button of her jeans, swollen knuckles screaming as she fails a few times to push the little metal circle through the loop.

“Goddamnit,” she mutters to herself, and to the ghosts, and the spider she saw in the corner when she came in but didn’t have the heart to make the latter as well. 

She’s already made too many ghosts. 

“I, uh, I can help?”

None of those ghosts have ever answered before, though. 

Whirling around, fists balling in front of her face, she readies herself in less than a breaths time to send said ghost straight back to the grave—

“Woah, easy there, baby—”

Only to find Steve, his baby blues wide and a tad panicked but his hand nevertheless peeking through the crack of the door, reaching for her. Mind glazing over with confusion and, well, a fair bit of something russian and label-less, she blinks up at him and the damn door. She closed that— she remembers closing it… right? 

Her eyes flick down and the fire in her belly kindles a little more. 

“Are you kidding me?” She groans, the exhaustion an unwelcome guest in the cavern of her chest.  

His boot, right there in the doorway, holding the measly wooden traitor open. She never heard the damn click. Didn’t even bother to listen for it. Rookie mistake, honestly. She can’t even be mad, really. 

“Please just let me help.” Steve pushes past the door, both arms now extended towards her, but he doesn’t touch her yet. 

He’s waiting. She stays silent. Partly because she has no idea what to say— or what she wants— and partly because he hates it. He absolutely, agonizingly hates when she gives him the silent treatment. She watches his jaw tick, lips pressing together until they go white, and there’s a sick part of her that relishes in the cool satisfaction rushing down her spine. 

You made me like this.

But there’s also a part of her that mourns with him when he clears his throat, crystal eyes flooding over, liquid and glassy, and lowers his arms slightly. Not all the way. He’s hopeful, maybe. America’s sweetheart is always hopeful, that’s one of the things she fell in love with him for. 

That’s still Steve— her Steve. 

“I know—” Steve swallows, “I messed up. I just— you’re hurt, baby. Lemme’ help.”  

She huffs— why is it so fucking complicated? Why can’t they just be normal?

She is hurt. Nothing needs cauterizing but there’s no denying her mottled skin, blue-ish under the crappy motel bathroom lights. Her hands throb, joints screaming at her— when she turns to the mirror, she almost gags at the slight bald patch behind her right ear— fuck, that one had really stung. Absolutely ridiculous the way some people fight these days. 

Her silence is deafening. 

She wants to sob. It’s right there, in the hollow of her throat— she wants to scream. Maybe not at him but in general. She used to live in a penthouse, with all her friends, and the love of her life. Now what? She used to get hurt like this back then too but now it feels purposeless— what are they even doing this for if they have nothing. Have no one. It made sense when she still had him. 

Meeting his gaze in the mirror— disappearing a bit into fogged up glass but there regardless— she still has him. Kind of. But she still doesn’t say anything when she turns back to face him. The frown carved into her face feels vile— deep and disgusting and entirely real— but she can’t make it go away. She can’t stop the sniffle, either. Why can’t she just tell him she misses him?

“Fuck.” 

It’s mumbled under his breath. The Captain America, standing in some rundown wreck of a place off some lonely highway, is swearing. Because of her. Is this hell? It feels like hell. 

But, no, it can’t be, because his hands are so, so gentle as they cup her cheeks, thumbs softly dancing over the bruises, half assessing, half trying. Trying to do what, she doesn’t know. Wipe them away? Commit them to memory? She leans into his touch regardless, conceding ever so slightly. She won’t say it, but he can help. There isn’t a universe in which she would truly deny him. 

The first tear that falls isn’t hers, but his, landing on her forehead right before he buries his face in her hair, wrapping those supersoldier arms around her, trying and, well, failing not to crush her in the process. The tenderness in her broken body is worth it, though, because he smells like home, even if tinged with gunpowder and war. 

“I am so sorry—” he whispers, heartbeat erratic under her ear, chest heaving for breath— “I am so sorry I brought this on you. You’re hurt and it’s my fault.”  

Complicated. She fists his t-shirt as hard as she can— fists in until her hands go numb. It’s not fair how complicated it has to be for them. 

Steve didn’t throw her into the fight, didn’t slam his fist into her eye, or rip her hair out by the handful. Steve didn’t even make her come with him when he left; that was entirely her choice. But he did lose his mind a little bit. Power tripped a little too hard. Focused so much on keeping them all safe that he missed the part where he was just supposed to hug her— and that’s what sucked most— but he is now, right?

That has to count for something? 

He pulls back and her fingers tighten, steeling, tensing. He can’t go, even if she isn’t sure what they are anymore. 

The agony in his eyes when he draws the line from her balled fists holding on for dear fucking life to her own, misty gaze is indescribable. “Baby I don’t know how to fix this. I want to, I—” he clears his throat again and her frown carves even further into her skin, eyebrows drawing together— “I want to so fucking bad.”

He plants his forehead against hers and it aches, the warmth of his skin. “I don’t want to make it worse. I need you to tell me how to help.” 

There’s a stinging in her throat where the words simply don’t manifest. What the fuck is she supposed to say? Nothing, at all, really, because she doesn’t even know how to fix her and she’s not mad so there’s nothing to fix… but isn’t there? Isn’t there something between them that desperately needs mending? Isn’t she mad? 

Is it anger? 

Or is it something much more primal. 

No, there are no words she can tell him. She could show him, though. Maybe that will work.

Letting his shirt go, she watches the breath catch in his chest, stuck and frantic. She knows that feeling well— that icy desperation to keep holding on no matter what. But she’s only grabbing his hands, not leaving him, and he’ll see that soon so she continues to drag him towards the stupid, little button that her useless fingers couldn’t seem to undo. In hindsight, maybe they were just waiting for him. 

Realizing, his forehead is off hers quickly, eyes seeking hers. “What? I don’t—” She flattens his palms against her stomach, engulfing the button, and he breathes the last word out— “understand.” 

Her brows raise, cheeks still on fire but now also burning— yes you do. 

“Are you sure?” He asks but there’s a little click— the same one she hadn’t heard earlier— as his boot clad foot kicks the door properly shut, and she’s pretty sure he knows just how sure she is.

All it takes is her thumbs on his, prodding them towards her arch nemesis— damn you, Levi jeans— and the soldier is moving, not rough in his quick actions, but determined. The button is no match for Steve Rogers on a regular day, but today? Now that he has a goal? A starting place? The button may as well have disintegrated under his fingers. 

Her own hands fly to his shoulders, clinging to him as he tugs the blasted jeans off her legs, trying the best she can not to topple over with the sheer force of him. Material pooling at her feet, his palms smooth so slowly back up her now bare legs, rising goosebumps in their wake. She hasn’t been touched in ages— she feels kind of like an animal waking up from hibernation, disorientated and hungry. 

Grabbing at her hips suddenly, her ass is on the cool countertop before she even has the chance to get dizzy. Spreading her thighs with his own, he works on her bra next— this faded, hole ridden thing that if she wasn’t so engulfed in searing, licking desire, she’d probably be embarrassed about. But it’s gone so soon that she doesn’t have a chance and replaced instead with two, bulky hands that entirely engulf her breasts. 

They squeeze her skillfully— with purpose. Thumbs swiping delicious circles around her nipples, flicking this way and that, exactly how he knows she likes it— exactly the way that should have her as a mewling heap in his hold. But she’s not— she’s contained, even as her very skin thrums alive with anticipation. Is this revenge or is it just fucking complicated?

She can’t decide so instead she bites the moan clawing at her throat into small enough pieces to swallow, all the while tuning into something dark that sparks in his ever watchful gaze. 

She’s caught— he gets it now. 

“Really, baby?” He muses, palming her, squeezing just hard enough to give the touch a slight bite. His tone has her feeling like a deer in his headlights— like a freight train is barrelling directly at her and there’s nowhere to go— and she squeezes her thighs around him, welcoming the collision. “You think I won’t work for it?” 

She only blinks at him. Once… twice… 

Her panties are dropped somewhere into the abyss, long forgotten with the rest of her clothes, and his knees thud heavily against the tiled floor. Replacing his body, his head now hovers right in front of a different button, golden hair tickling her sensitive skin as he pulls her legs over his thick shoulders. His skin is warm but not as much as his balmy breath which hits her clit, teasing her into a mess, hands curling around the edge of the counter. 

Come on, Steve. 

But, no, he doesn’t give in to her just yet. First, he turns to her inner thigh, sucking her skin into his mouth with bruising pressure before letting it go with a pop. He peers up— nothing. Moving to the other one, he whispers quick kisses over her sex but never lingers, only biting into her flesh once more once across her mound, teeth almost teasing a whimper from her this time but no, she’s not budging. 

That doesn’t mean he isn’t driving her crazy. Inside, she screams— she craves. C’mon baby just give it to me. Outwardly, her hands drunkenly find his hair, tugging at his soft locks. Now, now, now she chants furiously.

He unseals his lips from her thigh, peering up, less dangerous and back to being her ever hopeful boyfriend— is her her boyf— He kisses her folds, spongy lips lingering a moment, rendering her blank and feverish. Angelic— he’s angelic. From under his long lashes he all but begs her, his dark eyes starving and wanting, but his hands are so soft on her hips, massaging deep into her. It’s this mixture of puppy dog pleading and a knowing of sorts— he knows she’s going to cave eventually.

How does he do that? 

“Words? Please?”

She only pouts and, again, the switch flips. “Fine.”

The word is punctuated with the warm, wet stripe he licks up her center, flicking his tongue languidly over her clit. For as rushed as he’d started this mission, he’s truly never been one to speed through his meals, preferring instead to devour her slowly— expertly— tasting her thoroughly like he has all the time in the world. Meanwhile her body pulses, teetering dangerously already on the knife-sharp edge of too much and too little as he masterfully carves her out. 

Her hands, which had moments ago tried to pull him closer, now use his hair as handles to keep herself from toppling off the counter when he slides her closer to him, burying his face fully into her heat. Heels digging into his back, she watches the spot where his shirt rides up intently, consumed not only by the harsh sucking on her clit but also the tanned, muscled skin peeking out and then disappearing below his own jeans, taunting her. Why hadn’t she taken it off him first? 

She doesn’t have time to think much more about it though because he’s ravenous and she may as well be ice cream, sweet and sticky, melting all over him, dripping down the sides of his face and fingers as they begin prodding against her. They tease, pushing into her but not quite far enough— hard enough.  

His gaze on her is overpowering— it’s deliberate. 

“Y’know,” he speaks against her, the vibrations making her tense, “you can just tell me what you want ‘and I'll do it.”

Her mouth is like sandpaper— her brain, uncooperative. This push and pull is becoming lethal, the next few pokes of his tongue honey slow and spine jolting. Please— she wants to beg. She’s so empty. So, so, achingly empty. Would his fingers even be enough? At this point, it’s as though he would need to crawl into her very chest to fill her up the way she needs to be. How could her words even convey something so needy? 

“Anything, baby. Whatever you want.” 

They can’t, so they don’t, but for the sounds she refuses to make, he doubles in his own, moaning his frustrations right against her. If he can’t make her say anything, he damn sure is going to make her do something. That’s probably why he finally caves, pushing his fingers in to the hilt, and she was stupid to think they couldn’t fill her, the slight burn of them not at all foreign but definitely intense. 

As they bury themselves in her over and over and over again, she bucks against his hand, chasing the start of a little ball of electricity growing in the pit of her stomach, getting higher and higher with every twist of his fingers. Combined with the incessant flick of his tongue— she’s a goner. Stifling the moan, her teeth find home in her lip, biting so hard her mouth gains a slight tang that excites her even more. What’s she even doing? 

Wouldn’t it be more fun if she just let loose? Isn’t that what’s been missing the whole time? The fun? 

When she sees the glint in his piercing stare— impish despite everything they’ve been through— she gets it. It’s hopeless— she is and they are but they’re together and the fun isn’t gone— she’s done. He earned it.

“Stevie—”  she finally cries, animalistic; it doesn’t sound like his name but he must know it is because, even with the intense throbbing consuming her entire body, she can feel his shoulders soften under her thighs— “please don’t stop, I’m so close!”

“That’s it baby,” he coos against her clit, voice raw, compliant as he continues to pump his fingers in time to her squirming, “that’s my girl. I missed that pretty voice of yours.” 

At what point the first orgasm turns into a second, she isn’t sure. It’s all one big blur of her whiny moans, wanton and liquid body, and his hushed prayers against her flushed skin, tongue lapping relentlessly against her. More baby; I know you can give me more. She doesn’t so much hear them as she does become them, absorbing them into her skin. That’s it angel— so good, so good for me.

She can feel him drinking in her mumbled, jagged noises, some words but others mere syllables, coaxed out of her by tongue and fingers all the same. Steve— honey— mmph, fuck, right there— oh my— the words pour out now, dam broken beyond repair, and for some reason, or maybe a lack thereof, it spurs her on even more, a freed woman if ever there was one— 

“Oh my god, Stevie!”

It’s maddening— he’s maddening. 

He’s relentless. 

It isn’t until she yanks his still-eager mouth away from her, stomach iron-tense from way too much overstimulation, does he slowly draw his hand reluctantly back from her shuddering body. His other arm unwinds from where it’s been snaked around her knee, anchoring her to him throughout the duration of his worship. Now pushing him upright, holding him just near enough to where she can hear his labored breaths but not feel them, she shivers, cold as ice without his heat. 

He stares down at her, unmoving, and her heart jumps in her chest. She doesn’t understand— he’s just standing there while she shudders, breathless. His shirt is stretched, no doubt from her pulling at it, and in noticing the damage she remembers how she’s completely naked and he’s completely not. Exposed doesn’t even begin to touch how she feels. 

She wraps her arms around her chest, knees drawing up to tuck under her chin. “Steve?” 

She’d forgotten what it felt like to constantly have him next to her— to have his furnace like warmth melting into her skin almost every minute. Now that she’s had her first real taste of him again, she’s de-acclimated to being alone. She needs him.

“C’mere,” she begs, shaking and a bit confused, why isn’t he touching her still, “please, Stevie, come back.” 

When her fingers finally swipe against his shirt, barely snagging it, he flinches, coming back to her. “Sorry baby, I didn’t mean—” 

She flings herself at him, heart off kilter and erratic in her chest as her lips press against his, swallowing his apologies and hoping beyond anything else that he just catches her, like he always does. He does, kissing her back fervently— reverently. His tongue, tinted with her essence, scoops into her mouth the same way he had been between her thighs. She welcomes the way he takes charge, knowing he holds her against him with every ounce of strength he has.

“—’m sorry,” he pants into her mouth, clearly not satisfied with the success of her attack, “so, so sorry baby.” 

He repeats the words deliriously. Presses them into her hair and against her temple, on her chin and both her cheeks. He especially feeds them to her, word for word, against her lips, soft at first and then rough, frenzied. He’s not talking about right now. He’s still back in that apartment; the fallen angel amongst the rubble, wings too broken to just leave it. 

It’s not complicated. And it’s not revenge, because she could never make him feel worse than he already does, nor would she want to. So, in between kisses and apologies, she answers.

“I know, Stevie.”   

“It’s ok— we’re ok, Stevie.” 

“Steve, stop— I love you!”

He stops. He sets her down, bare feet planting unsteady against the ground. He steps back. What?

“Stevie?” She questions, already moving forward, but his arms, sweeping over his head, towing his shirt up and off, halt her in her tracks. 

Oh.  

 Oh. 

This time, when she says his name it's only a breathy moan, fingers searching for his belt loops and hooking him towards her. In the time it takes for her hands to find the button— this one, thankfully, popping open immediately— there must be a god somewhere who didn’t abandon them in the rubble— he’s back on her, one hand carefully threading through her hair, dragging her mouth back to his, while the other pushes the rest of his clothes to the ground.

“I love you, I love— ah, fuck,” he hisses as her hand wraps around him, thumb brushing over his velvety tip.

For the first time, she smiles against his mouth, calm. “Language, Rogers.”

He pulls back, one neat eyebrow flicked up, but there’s humor in his eyes— no more tension. No more worry. Just fun. He leans down, nuzzling his chin down the side of her face, breath fanning her ear. Her hand stutters as it tugs on him, dragging up and down. He’s so hard— it’s been so damn long. 

“Thought I was Stevie, baby?” It’s an absent minded tease, blush lips parted even after the fact, glued to the way she touches him. 

In turn she watches his face, crowned in a mussed up halo of gold, some of which sticks to his forehead but most falling at every which angle, a product of her thighs sealing themselves around him. She can’t say that she’s never seen him this disheveled but she’ll never get used to it. He’s perfect— she makes him so messy. 

Clearly, she hadn’t been the only one enjoying herself, though, if the heaviness of him between her fingers, rutting into her palm is anything to go by. She squeezes harder, testing something, and he groans something almost inhuman against her neck. Guttural. He’s so close already. It fuels her like nothing else, tickling the part of her that just wants to please. She’s making reparations, too. Speeding up, she works him faster. Come on, honey.  

“Stevie—” she echoes and the next thing she knows, he’s pulling her off him, pushing her towards the steam which billows out from behind the curtain. 

From the moment her feet touch the warm, wet surface of the shower floor, everything is a blur. The water sprays over her harshly, but only for a moment, before he overpowers it with his own, massive body, just as searing against her skin. She registers the slick splat of her back against the wall, a grunt— missed this, baby, and her own feral howl as he slams into her. There’s no waiting, no tiptoeing, only his cock sealing them together furiously once more. 

One of her legs is hiked up impossibly far, hinging near his hip where his hand crushes her to him. The other leg holds her up— barely— heel raised, toes splaying for grip as she reaches higher. He’s just so big— so tall and so thick. So impossible to adequately open herself to without him fully lifting her but she wants to try so she does her best to meet his brutal pace, clinging around his neck desperately. 

If his fingers had filled her entirely, his cock is almost unbearable. She relishes it, though, the way she can almost feel him in her damn throat with each and every drag. It’s mesmerizing, the way there’s no need for adjustment— for remembering. He knows her body like it’s his own and it makes her drool with pleasure.   

The slapping of their skin together proves to be louder than the rush of the water, but not more so than Steve whose mouth is working over time, ladeling praises directly into her ear, soaked, stubbly chin grating deliciously against her temple.

“You look so pretty baby,” he hums, staring mesmerized at their bodies to where he slips in and out of her, “ look at you taking me so well.”  

And she does. 

It’s a lewd notion, the way she can see exactly where he is inside her by the way her belly ripples with his plunges, but one that makes her gasp nonetheless, spasming around him which is also visible to both of them. Loosening one of her hands from its vice grip on his shoulder, he places it on the exact spot, urging her to feel just how big he is. With every sloppy push and pull, she does feel it, and it sends her reeling.

“See that?” He rasps, and she can only nod, mouth agape enough for some of the water falling off his hair to drip into it. 

She swallows it, tongue somehow so, so dry despite everything. Her nerves are on fire, everything so much slower than it should be. 

The agonizing pull of his hand on hers, dragging her own fingers under his to toy with her clit. 

The little circles that take hours to complete but nurture the current running through her veins regardless. 

The fucking torturous in and out of his cock— taunting her, languidly pounding her for what feels like an eternity— she can’t think. She’s in the water but she feels under it, too, foggy and pent up. She just wants to cum—

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna—” 

“—Stevie!” 

She breaks through the sluggish pleasure into electric and all consuming waves, head falling against the wall as his hips stutter against hers, pumping once, then twice, before falling still. Each time, she clenches harder, babbling something gritty and foul and incomprehensible. Something along the lines of holy fucking shit baby but its blurred with searing, pulsing pleasure.

There’s stars behind her eyes and steam in her nose as he falls against her chest, sopping hair tickling her hypersensitive skin. Him pulling feels like what two exposed wires touching must— all sparky and hot. It’s too much. 

“Mmm, careful baby,” she mumbles and he chuckles. 

“Of course.” 

The rest is truly a lull. Steve doesn’t bother gathering their clothes, only her, carrying her limp body to the bed and carefully setting her under the covers, dripping and all, before joining her. If she weren’t so sleepy, she would have scolded him. But she is and her eyes are refusing to stay open, let alone give him that look. It’s all she can do = to seek his warm skin once more, slithering against his body and rooting herself there. 

Cauterized, or something like it. 

[snowdrop-ivy]

Chasing the Clouds: A Journey Back to The Beef | 2

Summary: Mikey left the restaurant to Carmen, Natalie, and you.

Trope: Second chances

T/W: Cursing, unresolved mental issues, trauma, suic!de, angst, and smut.

Word count: 2654

YOU just finished editing the photos you’re about to send to your wedding planner when you saw Natalie calling you. You’re back in Chicago for a break and to plan the wedding since your fiance’s mom thought a year engaged and no plans is bullshit. So that’s what you’ve been doing for the past 2 weeks. 

“Hey, Sug,” You smiled, answering the phone. “How you’ve been?”

“Hey, baby doll!” She shrieked. They’re not going to die down the nickname you had since 4 because you thought that dressing up as a doll everyday till you were 7 was a good idea. “Not much. How are you? I miss you!”

“I miss you too, Sug!” You giggled and crossed your legs. “Not much going on. I just finished sending designs for the chairs I wanted and heading off to my dad for Jeremy’s birthday party. Are you coming?”

You heard Nat sighed on the other end. “No, I have to check with my accountant because I put in my house as mortgage for the restaurant and now that they’re behind bills, my house is fucked.”

“Oh,” You gulped as you knew that Carm was managing it and you’ve been trying to stay away with everything that reminds you of him but apparently, growing up together does not do that. “Do you need help with it?”

“No!” She exclaimed. “I just wanted to talk to you. And maybe, if you’re free, we can hang out. I really miss you.”

You bowed and lightly smiled. “I know! It’s been so long. But, I’m free tomorrow. Is that good with you?”

You heard Nat squeal as you planned your day-out tomorrow. You both exchanged stories on what’s going on until it was time for you to go to your dad’s house. It’s your little brother’s birthday. You love that kid even though you don’t have the same mom. Your mom died a few months after you were born. It was always you and your dad till your step mom showed up. She’s okay, you like her. But you’ve never been close to her. She’s one of those people you like but do not hate. It’s somewhere between that. 

“Hey, baby doll!” Your dad yelled across the crowd he was talking to. You beamed up a smile as you walked to your dad with his open arms. “I miss you so much.”

You hugged your dad and kissed him. “We saw each other last week, Dad.”

Jim laughed as he hugged you again. “What? I can’t miss you everyday?”

You laughed and shook your head. You hugged all the people you knew and went inside to look for the birthday boy. You looked around the house you grew up in. All the pictures since you were little hang around the house. You smiled at those memories. All the good and bad ended you up as a Nurse. You never thought you'd be a nurse since you’re scared of needles when you were young from the stories you heard from your dad about crackheads and whatnots. You searched around the house to find your brother but you can’t see him anywhere. You smiled to the guests you passed by till you got to the kitchen.

“Baby doll!” Richie roared then tackled you in a squeezing hug. “Where you’ve been?”

You screeched as he lifted you. “Rich, put me down!”

Rich looked in disbelief as he eyed you. The last time you saw him was a week before Mikey’s death. “You look so fucking different.”

“That’s because I am,” You laughed. You smiled at him before hugging each other. You did miss him. And you felt guilty that you didn’t show up or call him when he’s been through his shits. “Sorry for not calling,” You genuinely smiled before kissing him on the cheek.

“Nah, you’re good,” Rich dismissed his hand. “Enough about that! How are you?”

You opened your mouth to answer but you heard a very familiar voice calling Rich. “Cousin, how’s the hotdogs coming?”

You gulped when you saw him. That bastard. Carmen Fucking Berzatto walking to the kitchen. He stopped on his tracks when he saw you. He has a tray of lettuce in his hands. You saw his jaw clenched and walked to the counter to put down the tray.

“No, Carm, look who’s here?” Richie said all fucking excited and pointed at you like he doesn’t know where you are. “It’s baby doll!”

Rich was about to say something before you smelled the burning hotdogs and he came running to it. You bit your lip when he left the two of you alone. You felt your hands shaking as you put your purse and gift down. Carm sighed before leaning on the counter and looking at you. Both of you don't know what to say or where to start.

He cleared his throat making you look at him. “Hey.”

You felt your throat close up when he called. You eyed him intently. His shriveled hair, the noticeable bags under his eyes, and his stained white shirt that fitted him like a glove. “Hey, Carmen.”

Carm twitched his mouth and clenched his jaw when he heard you say his name. That’s the first time you called him by his name. You always called him bear or B or anything else other than his government name.

“How you’ve been?” You both asked after a long silence. You also both pointed at each other to answer. “No, you go ahead,” He suggested.

You cleared your throat. After years of not talking, not a call, text, letter, or email, that’s what he asked. You had this urge to scream at his face and tell him how you spent the nights in the bathroom as you were too drunk just to forget his fucking face for a second. You wanted to tell him how you almost failed nursing school since you had no will to live or even a tiniest motivation to get up in the morning. You wanted to tell him how you were prescribed sleeping pills from all the sleepless nights you had. You wanted to tell him how broken your heart and body was when he left. “I’m good,” But no, you just timidly answered. You’re unsure if he knows you’re engaged or not since you haven’t talked to him for how many years. You don’t know if your dad, Sug, or Rich mentioned it to him. “You?”

He looked at the floor. His arms crossed and nodded. That’s not how you usually answered. You always answer with a funny story that happened to you. “Good as well,” He slowly nodded and glanced at you. He noticed everything that changed about you. How your hair has been a bit darker, the new tattoo on your arm, and how you wore your lipstick darker than you used to. It was colored salmon before that’s why whenever he sees one, it reminds you of him. He can’t think of one thing that he can’t associate you with.

You nodded, acknowledging his answer. You were hoping for more but what can you expect him to say? You both sat in silence till he offered you a beer. He placed it on the counter and you reached for it. He saw the ring on your finger as you drank the beer.

Carm froze when he saw that. His heart dropped. He felt cold all of a sudden then sweaty. He wrapped his arm around him as he slowly nodded. Trying to acknowledge what is going on. His mind was going to a different place. He couldn’t wrap his head on the thought that you’ll be walking on a different man to the altar. Not that he could do anything about it. I mean, what can he do? Tell you to stop the wedding? He can’t do that. That’s fucked up. Not after everything he’s put you through.

“Getting hitched, huh?” He questioned then took a sip. 

You saw that he noticed the ring. You wrapped both of your hands on the cold bottle since you can’t feel anything. You just went numb. And it’s not a good numb. It feels different. 

You shrugged. “Yup,” you murmured. “Gonna be a Mrs. soon,”

“Huh.” That’s all he could say. He bit his lips looking for words or questions to prolong the conversation. “You excited?”

You blew out your cheeks. “Yeah,” You answered and looked at him. His face went blank. You can see him tensing his shoulders.

Carm pursed his lips and looked around. “Best wishes, then,” He whispered and raised his beer at you.

You timidly smiled and slightly raised your beer back. You looked at the window so as to not look at him anymore. His face brought back so many emotions and memories that you locked up in a chain somewhere deep in your mind. You never thought going back to Chicago meant you’ll see him again. You buried him in your head and soul. You heard him excuse himself to go check on Richie. When he left, you buried your face in your hand trying to prevent her tears welling up. You took a deep sigh and left the beer on the counter to look for your dad. You saw him in the backyard smoking. 

You stood beside him and snatched his cigarette. “You didn’t tell me he was here.”

He kicked the pebbles scattered around him and put his hands on his pocket. “If I did, you wouldn’t come.”

You sighed. “Dad.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” He sighed defeatedly. “It’s just that I’m sure you’re not gonna go if you knew and it’s your brother’s birthday. You can’t miss that. Not when he loves you more than anyone in the world.”

You took a deep breath and huffed a smoke. Your brother does love you more than anyone. And you love that kid. And your dad’s right, if you knew he’s coming, you’re not going to go. 

“And besides,” Your dad shrugged his shoulders. “You’ve been avoiding everything that has to do with him since forever. And if you’re really past that… you shouldn’t be afraid anymore.”

You scratched your brow and glanced at them making hotdogs under a tent. What your dad said is applicable if you’re past it. But you’re not. You didn’t even go through it. You skipped it. Your answer was halted when you saw your brother running towards you. You threw the cigar and hugged him. Jeremy took you away from your dad and introduced you to all his friends. He showed you all the gifts he got. Jer took your mind off Carm and you were thankful for him. How sweet and caring he is. How he made you happy by just being him. You laughed when he saw that you have a gift. The party went on to be a blast. Kids had fun. Food was great. It was a great day. You didn’t see Carm much that day other than the few glances and the conversation you had. Jeremy was bummed that you’re gonna go home but you promised him a fun day when you’re free.

Carm and Rich are cleaning up the place after the party. He was wiping the tables when Jimmy walked in and made a cup of coffee. He couldn’t help but look at the picture of him with his dad. 

“When is that from?” He asked and pointed at the picture sitting on the counter. It was a black and white photo. Jimmy had his arm around his dad and they’re both smiling.

“Repeat party. Grant Park, ‘92,” He answered and took a sip before standing next to him. “You ever miss him?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t really know him well enough to miss him.”

“Sounds like Y/N,” Jimmy mentioned. He placed down his cup and turned to Carm. “You get a chance to talk to her?”

Carm shrugged. “Yeah, we had a beer but she didn’t finish it. Still on the counter.”

Jimmy pursed his lips. “How’d you feel?”

He stopped and raised his brows. “What are you? A therapist?” He joked. Unc turned his head to know he’s serious. Carm straightened his face before continuing to clean the table. “Good, I guess.”

“Really?” He wondered. He didn’t seem satisfied with his answer. “After all these years?”

“Yeah, I mean, we didn’t have much to talk about but she did mention her engagement.”

Jim pressed his lips and tapped him on the shoulder before leaving. “Hey, Carm,” he called him.

Carm turned around to look at him. “Whenever I imagine giving away my daughter, I always thought it’d be to you.”

He nodded and watched him leave him. He took a deep breath. He also had the idea you’re gonna end up together. You both were a step away from being married. Hell, Carm even gave you a very beautiful engagement ring that made you feel magical. But that was all in the past now. He still wonders if you still have the ring. It wouldn’t hurt him if he knew you threw it away or burned it along with the other things you had that belonged to him. Carm shook his head and head on to bid goodbyes to Unc’s wife and Jer. Rich and Carm had to drive Pete home since he was knocked out from the punch infused with Xanax. Carm took the chance to talk to Natalie. 

“So, how’s the party?” Nat asked as he gave him water and sat down across from him in their living room. 

“Good,” He nodded. “Good yeah, Richie spilled a Xanax in the cooler but Unc didn’t kill us.”

“That’s crazy,” She said with disgust. Nat propped her legs on the couch. “You saw baby doll?”

Carm bit his lip and nodded.

“You guys talked?”

He nodded. Unsure what to answer. He propped his arms on his legs as it bounced. 

“How was she?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was engaged?” 

Nat’s mouth went open then lightly shrugged. “I didn’t think you'd want to know that.”

 Carm bitterly laughed before shaking his head. “Yeah, right.”

“How’d you know?”

“Saw it on her finger,” He answered, remembering what it looks like on you. “Different from what I got her.”

“Does it still hurt?” Nat asked gently. Her eyes was soft and full of worry.

Carm stared at the picture of you with him, Nat, and Mike that was taken on Christmas a year after you got together. He smiled lightly as he saw his arms around your waist and you were kissing him on the cheek. He had the biggest smile on it. And you all looked so happy beside the christmas tree. “Yeah, and I think it always will.”

“Do you still love her?”

He bit his lip, soaking in her question. And the answer is he does. You have, will always have, his heart in your hands. You were gentle while he cared, but when he stopped caring, it broke you. And nothing will ever be the same. You gave him everything, and he won’t give it back. And now, you chose someone else, even though you have every piece of him. He hopes time will heal you both. Maybe not completely, but he hopes it will only hurt on the bad days. And he’s only have a few of those.

“Carm…” Natalie softly called him after a while when he didn’t answer.. “Are you okay?”

He repeatedly nodded before standing up. “Gotta go,” he bid before heading out to his car. He banged his hand on the wheel repeatedly trying not to scream. He’s not okay. How can he be? Seeing you after 5 years and seeing that you’re engaged. And how nobody gave him a fucking heads up about it. They told all the stories you shared with them but not the one where you got a fucking fiancé.

taglist: @th3h0nkz

A/N: Hi! If you want to be tagged on the next chapters, just comment down! Thanks for the support! <33 hope you like this chapter

[lesbians4armand]

On Armand + Atropa belladonna

To begin this post, I'm sure I've mentioned somewhere my ongoing belief that the poison that killed Armand was Atropa belladonna, colloquially known as Deadly Nightshade. Where I posted this exactly I'm not sure, It could have been here or on either my main or private Twitter accounts. Either way, it needed more elaboration, so I'll write about it here.

For those unfamiliar with this infamous poison, Atropa belladonna, more often called Deadly Nightshade, Belladonna, or Devil's Cherries, is a flowering plant native to Europe and Western Asia, and naturalised in many parts of North America. They are well known for their light purple bell-shaped flowers, their pointed green leaves, and their highly toxic pitch-black berries.

My interest in these plants has been a long-standing one, and I even plan on having the plant tattooed on me, but another interest arose recently when I was thinking about the history and usage of these plants.

It's well established in the Vampire Chronicles that Armand died from poisoning, mirroring his own fledgling Daniel's death to alcohol poisoning centuries later. Of course, what truly caused their deaths and turnings was being made into a vampire, that's what ceased their mortality, but it does not change that they were both still already dying of poison, and although we know Daniel's poison was alcohol, Armand's remains a mystery.

What begins my theory of Armand's poison being belladonna, is the name itself. While belladonna has had many medicinal uses throughout history and even in the modern day, the most famous use remains its namesake- "Beautiful Lady" in Italian. During the Renaissance, the time in which Armand lived, died, and was made a vampire, this plant was hugely popular among noble women of Italy, particularly in Venetian courts, where these ladies would drop the juice into their eyes, as the toxins in the berries cause the pupils to dilate and the eyes look larger, which was considered a beauty standard at the time. (Interestingly,one of the tropane alkaloids found in belladonna and other plants in the Solanaceae family (Atropine) is still used in modern optometry for the dilation of the pupils.)

Immediately, there is a direct link to Armand's death. With belladonna being such a known and widely used poison in Rennaisance Venice, It is by no means unlikely that it was the poison that eventually caused his mortal death.

But other details in the Chronicles point to this as well. Belladonna was widely used by upper-class Venetian women during this period, but it was not a Venetian woman who killed Armand, it was an English Lord. But who was it that was a noblewoman, who had intimate knowledge and use of poisons, and the host of this very Lord? Bianca.

It's almost guaranteed that Bianca had access to and used belladonna, both as a poison and as a cosmetic at this time. This lord could have easily acquired this poison from Bianca through theft, asking for it, or having been given it freely. Bianca at this time was both a murderer and a courtesan, and with belladonna's widespread use as a cosmetic, it may not have seemed unusual to her to be requested the poison by a guest.

One setback to the theory is that Belladonna is primarily deadly when ingested, and Armand's poisoning was not caused by ingestion of the plant. However, it can still be absorbed through the skin, and if the essences such as the juice of the plant were coated onto a blade that was then used to cut someone as Lord Harlech cut Armand, it would enter the bloodstream anyway and likely be fatal-as it was.

It's described in TVA how the cuts where Harlech's blade had caught Armand began to swell, a side effect of topical belladonna not often seen in poisonings vis ingestion, yet no less real, as belladonna exposure on the skin can cause severe contact dermatitis, as well as its other more known symptoms also found in ingestion poisonings; dizziness, blurred vision, hot flushes, vomiting, fever, delirium, etc. All are also described within the book.

Overall, the time, place, symptoms and associations all line up to make Armand's death read as belladonna poisoning, regardless of what poison may have been Anne Rice's intent, if any specific poison at all. There is also of course the poetic irony of the associations between belladonna and beauty, and Armand's own beauty being somewhat of a curse to him. How perfect it would seem if his death was caused by beauty too, not just his own and how his murderer desired him, but the very poison that was the weapon being a symbol of beauty too?

(Another detail that could be interesting to AMC show fans is that another of the tropane alkaloids found in plants in the Nightshade family such as Atropa belladonna is hyoscyamine, which is used in medicine to reduce spasms in patients with Parkinson's disease, which Daniel suffers with in the show. This is a lot more minor, but interesting nonetheless that the association with nightshades is found in other places in TVC and adaptations)

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

The Pretty Woman AU no one asked for.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Prostitution, Older Man/Younger Woman

Chapters: 1, 3, 4 (WIP)

AO3 Link

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Chapter Two: If I Had a Little Money

The morning brings with it confusion. 

It took Feyre a few moments to realize where she was when she woke up. She knew almost immediately that this wasn’t her bed. For starters, her bed wasn’t nearly so comfortable. So where…?

She saw white sheets. Pretty cream wallpaper. And a floor to ceiling window that showed off a dazzling city skyline. 

It all came rushing back then. 

She had…! And then she…! And he had…!

She felt dizzy. 

It almost didn’t feel real. Like the events of the night before had happened to someone else. 

To Vivian. 

Vivian had been confident. Vivian has been sexy. Vivian had been enthusiastically willing to jump into bed with a stranger and get paid for it. 

Feyre finally spied her purse, carefully laid out on the bedside table, and snatched it up to look inside. There, nestled safely where she’d stowed it the night before, was all the money she had earned. She counted it to be sure and, yep, all eight-thousand dollars was accounted for. She would be able to pay her landlord. Buy groceries. Maybe even have a nice buffer for when her sister inevitably didn’t show up to pay her half of the rent next month. 

She…she needed to go to the bank. She needed to get this deposited and safely out of her hands as quickly as possible. Knowing her luck, she would get mugged on her way home. No. Better to get it locked up in a vault somewhere. 

It didn’t take long for her to gather her meager belongings. Her purse. Her ratty converse. Her hoop earrings that she didn’t even remember taking off (had she taken them off? She must have…). And then tip toeing to the bedroom door looking for the exit. 

The man from the night before (Rhys, her brain reminded her helpfully) stood with his back to her, quietly speaking on the phone, as he leaned on the kitchen island. 

“No that won’t work. I have something I need to take care of first.”

Shit. 

How was she supposed to get out of here? Didn’t people usually just expect prostitutes to…walk out? She had the money. He’d gotten what he wanted…right? This transaction was over and now it was time for her to make like a banana and split. 

So then why did she feel so awkward about the idea of walking out without saying goodbye?

Clearly she wasn’t as cut out for this sex worker thing as she thought. 

Too late, Rhys had turned and noticed her. He smiled at her warmly, as if she were a beloved guest instead of his late-night booty call. 

Fuck. 

“Listen, I’ll check back with you soon,” he said quickly into his phone. “Just move the meeting up.” Then he ended the call and tossed the (very expensive looking) phone onto the counter while his eyes zeroed in on her. 

“Umm…hi.” Feyre wanted to smack herself. She sounded like an awkward teenager. 

You are an awkward teenager, a traitorous voice in her head replied. 

“Going so soon?” 

“Well…yeah…” she trailed off meaningfully. They were done…weren’t they? He had only paid for the night after all. And he couldn’t meaningfully argue it still was what with all the morning sunshine streaming in through the giant hotel windows. 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” 

“I…umm…I mean, I should probably go to the bank…”

He stared at her then. In the morning light, she really could almost be convinced his eyes were purple…they were just so…blue. Like a night sky just after the last rays of sun had sunk beneath the horizon. 

“What if…what if I bought you out for the rest of the week?”

Feyre blinked. 

She opened her mouth. Then she closed it. Then she opened it again. This was the part where she told him ‘no thank you’ and got the fuck out of dodge. She had her money. Nearly ten grand of it. She wouldn’t have to worry about bills for at least a few months. 

And yet all she managed to get out was, “I think I need to sit down.”

She sat on the floor. 

Rhys suddenly looked a little panicked. 

“Are you feeling alright?! Do you need anything?!”

Strangely, this actually made her feel a little better. If he was being awkward about this too, then it actually put them on somewhat more equal footing. 

“I’m fine,” she began. “I just…why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me? Why an entire week? That’s…that’s a lot of money.”

Rhys shrugged. “I can afford it.” 

She thought of the eight-thousand dollars burning a hole in her purse. Yeah. She just bet he could. 

“But…you’re…you,” she argued, waving at his expensive suit and model-ready cheekbones like this explained everything. “You could have anyone. For free.”

He cocked his head at her curiously. Almost amused. 

“Could I have you for free?”

“Well…no,” Feyre admitted. What she didn’t tell him was that he probably could…if she wasn’t so fucking desperate and poor. 

He shrugged, as if he had expected that. “Then you can have the money and I can have your company. Besides,” he added with what could only be described as a sly smile. “I’m here on business for the week. You need money. I need someone pretty on my arm for all the work functions I’ll be forced to attend. Everyone wins.” 

“So you don’t just want me for…you know…” her cheeks darkened, much to her horror. This man’s hand had been inside of her and yet she couldn’t even say the word ‘sex’ to him out loud? God, what did he even see in her?

He grinned and crouched down to her level. “I wouldn’t say no…but I’ll leave that up to you. No, you just be your charming little self and you’ll more than earn your keep.” 

She didn’t know what to say to that. Her? Charming? Had he hit his head last night? 

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, she thought. 

“Okay.”

Rhys looked beyond thrilled by this answer, though she couldn’t imagine why. 

“Now,” he said genially, reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. Feyre tried not to shiver. “What do you say about us getting you some new clothes?”

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There were things she needed to take care of first. 

Like calling into work. 

“Hey Gabe…” she began, already dreading this conversation. “A family emergency came up and I’m going to need to take the rest of the week off.”

She wasn’t about to tell him the truth, that she actually needed to spend the week at a millionaire’s beck and call to make ten times her monthly income. She was sure that wouldn’t have gone over well, so family emergency it was. 

“Fey, honey, really?” She frowned. She hated that nickname. “We’re slammed over here. We need you!”

“I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency. There’s nothing I can do,” Feyre said firmly. And then, because she was a pushover, “I’ll make up the hours next week.”

“But we need you now.”

“Well,” she said, frustrated, “I have an emergency now. You’re just going to have to deal.”

“I can’t believe you would do this to us,” Gabe scoffed, laying on the guilt trip. 

“I’ve never taken time off before,” she pointed out. And it was true. She hadn’t. Not once in the three years that she had worked for him. Not even when she’s gotten the plague and had run a fever so high her sisters had nearly sent her to the hospital. “And I’m not asking.” 

Her boss grumbled some more about ‘staffing shortages’ and ‘peak hours’ but she knew she had him. He may bitch and moan about how much she was ‘letting the team down’ but he wouldn’t dare fire her over this. She was too good of a worker to risk losing. 

Once she made her excuses and disconnected the call, she wandered back out into the living area to find Rhys lounging on one of the couches (the same one he’d fingered her on), typing away on his phone. She sat down next to him. 

“So…” she said. “I…still need to go to the bank. To deposit all this.” She gestured to her purse. 

“I’ll have someone drive you,” Rhys said, still typing something on his phone. “What bank do you use?” 

“Umm…Bank of America?” Feyre said automatically, taken aback by the question. 

“And your account and routing numbers?”

She stared. 

“…Why do you need those?” She asked suspiciously. 

“So I can wire you your money.” He said simply. 

“…Oh.” 

“How does twenty grand sound?”

Feyre nearly swallowed her tongue. 

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Later, after she got herself back under control, he gave her a card. 

A black card. 

Feyre may have been poor, but even she knew what a black AmEx card was. She held it gingerly, the way one would a live grenade. 

“Do I have a budget?” She had asked. 

Rhys had just laughed. 

So here she was an hour later, card in hand, standing outside a boutique she’d been ushered to by Rhys’s chauffeur and a personal shopper named Claire. 

“Is there any particular style we’re going for?” She had asked her in the car and Feyre had only been able to stare at her blankly. The only ‘style’ she had ever been known to exhibit was ‘cheap’ and ‘my father bought this for me in middle school and somehow I still fit into it’. Style was for people who had disposable income. And she was definitely not one of those people. 

Or, she thought dazedly, maybe she was now?

As they entered the boutique, Claire took charge like a general rallying her troops. Immediately, half a dozen impeccably dressed saleswomen appeared to do her bidding. One of them spied the black card in Feyre’s hand and the look in her eyes could only be described as predatory. 

Feyre gulped. 

The next several hours were a whirlwind of Feyre trying on a bevy of beautiful designer clothes (with price tags that gave her heart palpitations) while Claire barked orders to everyone who would listen. Occasionally Feyre found herself trying something on she thought looked perfectly fine only for the other woman to shake her head in frustration. 

“No, not that one. It’s too last season.” 

She had no idea what that even meant but at this point Feyre had grown rather scared of this woman so she had dutifully taken the outfit off in favor of the next. 

The only time she had found herself putting her foot down was when Claire had tried to veto a leather jacket she had liked. 

“No,” Feyre said quickly, clutching the jacket to her chest. “I’d like to keep this one.”

Claire just seemed confused. “It doesn’t really fit with the aesthetic we’re going for.” 

“That’s fine.”

Everything else that had been approved and then ferried off (to be packed up and sent to the hotel she later found out) had followed the pattern of being very…sophisticated. Gorgeous beaded ballgowns, crisp white blouses, cinched pencil skirts, red bottomed heels, all of it seemed tailored to an image of a woman Claire seemed to think Rhys needed at his side. And Feyre was fine with that. She certainly had no idea what kind of woman Rhys needed on his arm. 

But this jacket was also the first thing that seemed…her. The real her. And if she got anything out of this strange business arrangement she’d like it to be something that she could actually wear again after this was all over. 

Claire shrugged. 

“Alright.”

She directed someone to take the jacket so it could be added to the pile of approved clothes and then Feyre was back to being shoved into another extravagant dress. 

She sighed. 

Finally, when all was said and done, Feyre found herself to be the owner of a dozen new outfits, various accessories, far too many shoes, and all the while wondering how on earth she was expected to wear all of this in a single week. 

When the total was read out, she tried very hard not to have a heart attack then and there. Wincing, she handed over Rhys’s black card and watched the saleswoman swipe it with a bit too much relish. 

At least someone was enjoying themselves. 

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

Her last errand was the most important of all. 

“Here, Miss?” The chauffeur confirmed a little skeptically as he pulled up in front of her run down apartment complex. 

“Yep. This is it. I promise I’ll only be gone for a second.” Then she was climbing out of the car and sprinting into her apartment as quickly as possible. 

Thankfully, her landlord’s door was conveniently near the front exit. She banged on it a few times and was soon rewarded with a rumpled look middle aged man poking his head out. 

“Feyre,” he said her name the way one would to a misbehaving child. “You here with my money?”

“Actually,” she smiled, pulling out a stack of bills. “I am.”

[fbczine]

Before we open contributor applications, the mods would like to answer questions raised through responses from the Interest Check and expand upon our carrd’s guidelines/FAQ.

If you are potentially considering applying for the zine as a contributor, please take the time to look over this post and read the carrd. 

Zine’s Themes: 

For our second zine, we decided to have a centralized theme for the overall project: investigation. Solving mysteries, puzzles, and problems are key elements of Remedy games. All pieces featured within the zine will focus on these ideas. 

The Oceanview is a connecting point between the Alan Wake and Control universes. It is a place of power individuals pass through on their way to somewhere else, so it’s had many guests over the years. However, pitches for the zine do not have to feature the Oceanview, they can involve different settings featured or referenced in these games, excluding the Oldest House. 

Interest Check Feedback

During the interest check, we received several common questions we would like to address:

Can we submit pitches related to Alan Wake? 

Yes, as both Alan Wake and Control both fall under the Remedy-verse, we want the zine to have a diverse spread of content featuring characters and themes from both games. 

Are Alan Wake 2 spoilers allowed? 

The zine will release a year after the first game, so we will be allowing content featuring spoilers. All pieces with spoilers will have a warning tag in the zine’s table of contents, allowing consumers to pick and choose what content to enjoy. 

Are meta/theory-crafting pitches allowed? 

No, the zine will only be featuring fanart and fanfiction. 

What about lore related documents such as dossiers/letters/case files etc? 

Yes. As with our previous zine, in-universe documentation is welcome so long as it fits the zine’s themes and criteria. 

Can I submit something which has already been posted to social media? 

No, all contributors must submit a new, original piece of content never shared before. 

Is there any specific content which will not be allowed in the zine? 

We will not be accepting typewritten, out of context manuscript pages. If a typewritten manuscript page from Alan happens to be one part of your overall story, that’s fine. 

No pieces featuring places found within the Oldest House. As much as we love the Astral Plane, the Quarry, and the Clocks Threshold, we want the zine to feature many of the other interesting settings within this universe!

All art pieces must be polished lineart or equivalent. We will not accept sketches. 

Pitch Process 

Please do NOT submit pitches that state “I’ll draw/write anything” – these will be automatically rejected. 

Please submit three detailed pitches. Include any characters or ships featured in the piece along with the general idea. Give us the elevator pitch.  

If you’re pitching a piece featuring shipping content, please state the overall plot of the piece. The mods will not be accepting stories that do not take into account the zine’s investigative themes. 

All art pieces will need to have a background. No negative white space will be allowed. 

The mods will be trying to diversify the zine’s content through the provided pitches. Of your three pitches, the mods will select what pitch to move forward with based on the zine’s tentative content spread, so please make sure these pitches are something you are passionate about and willing to create. 

Collaboration and the Creation Process

Remedy fans are a passionate bunch. Love for these games is shown in each and every creative work. And just like Remedy collaborates to bring us these amazing games, we are looking for that same dedication for the Oceanview Guestbook zine. 

We would like each of our applicants to feel comfortable collaborating with both the mods as well as their fellow contributors. We will be encouraging contributors to share WIPs with each other through more organized check-ins to receive feedback. With each phase of the creation process, the mods will provide detailed feedback and constructive critique with each individual contributor. 

Our primary mode of communication will be through Discord. The mods will be available should contributors need any assistance, to communicate any unforeseen circumstances, or to answer questions which may arise throughout the creation process. 

Final Notes

The mods are fans of the Remedy universe and love the games. We want to talk and create with fellow fans. This project is for the community, and we can’t underscore that enough. This is why our previous and next zine are digital and free. We don’t want to hide the fanworks behind a paywall. This unofficial project is made for fans by fans as a labor of love. 

We hope you’ll join us on this journey!

– The Admin Team

[sebastianswallows]

A new family — Chapter 5

— PAIRING: dark!Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: Ominis gets tired of his family and how miserable life is with them after he graduates. So he follows Sebastian's example for once, and kills them in cold blood. Now that he has the mansion to himself, he discovers he would still like to have a family, but one of his own making.

— WARNINGS: just Marvolo being a nasty boy. I tried to keep him accurate, and he's probably the worst character I've ever written.

— WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

— TAGLIST: @littletealight @skarathewitch @myrachondria @mrimperio @ssnapsaurus @tarotwitchy-main @hufflepuff-16

Her hand went instinctively to the wand in her skirt pocket, but Marvolo stepped forward slowly, casually, throwing on a bemused smile. The doors closed behind him as if from a draft.

There was little in him that reminded her of Ominis. The high cheekbones and full lips were there, but his hair was dark and duller, his brows bullish thick, and his body was more broad. Although clothed quite finely in a gentleman’s suit, grey with black pinstripes, he moved in an uncouth manner, rough and lumbering and careless, if not outright uncivil.

“I wasn’t aware we were having guests,” he said, his brown eyes distastefully tracking her up and down before settling on her own. His voice was flat and low. It moved like something buried beneath mud. “Although you don’t seem like the sort of person that would be welcome here.”

She immediately hated him. She had heard of him throughout the years by Ominis, although not too much as it was, understandably, difficult for him to talk about his family in detail. She’d seen his pictures around the house as well, a few moving photographs and paintings, and he made himself unpleasant in each one, arrogant and egotistical and proud. And not only was he was as repulsive as his parents, but he’d been party to many of the torments inflicted on her dear Ominis.

She placed the parcel on the coffee table, almost in defiance, and smoothed her hands down her skirt. “I wasn’t aware yours was a welcoming family,” she said coolly.

“It isn’t,” he laughed, coming around to plop himself down on the sofa without even asking for her name. He crossed his legs and sat back, his arms spanning across its backrest almost from one end to another. “Which is why I wonder how you got here. You seem to have made yourself… comfortable,” he said, his eyes going down her figure once again. He might have noted the quality of the robes which she had bought with Ominis, or the dragon-skin boots she wore. His eyes, inevitably, fell to the gift-wrapped package on the table. “I can, of course, think of only one culprit,” grinned Marvolo.

“Is that so?”

“Where is my baby brother?”

“He’s your brother. How would I know?” she said, slowly stepping back.

“I only ask,” he shrugged, “because since I’ve got here I haven’t seen hide nor hair of mother and father, and you’re nothing like sissy’s friends.”

“Perhaps they’ve all gone out.”

His eyes flashed suspiciously up at her. He must have been thinking she was an interloper, or a thief, or worse… She had said nothing to discourage that opinion, of course, but she did not particularly care either way. She hated Marvolo, and didn’t intend to hide it.

“Yes, they must be out there somewhere, draining the family coffers… Am I right?”

Ah, so Ominis withdrawing funds from their account must have tipped him off. Perhaps even one of the Gringotts goblins told him about it. From across the distance, she could feel Sebastian laugh and say ‘I told you so’.

“I don’t know anything about that —”

“No, you wouldn’t, would you? What’s… this?” he said in one breath, leaning forward mid-sentence to pick up the little parcel. He held it to his ear and shook it to guess what was inside.

She took a few steps to the side and sat down on one of the armchairs by the fire, stretching out her legs as she lay almost on her side lazily.

“It’s a gift,” she said, “but not for you.”

“For someone special, is it?” Mavolo grinned, leaning back with it still in his hands. “Enough chitchat. Where’s Ominis?”

“You don’t care.”

“No, I don’t, but tell me anyway.” He looked around the room with a critical eye, suddenly humourless. “I know something odd has happened. I can smell it.”

Her eyes narrowed and she cocked a brow. A sliver of Legilimency told her the truth was slightly different.

“Someone told you.”

“Oh,” he laughed boomingly, “you caught me.”

“The house-elves?”

Marvolo scoffed. “Simpering vermin. No, it was the serpents that live on our grounds. Dug one out of his burrow and a nice long chat. Interesting little fellow. Didn’t recall seeing my family for many moons, although you and Ominis are known to take frequent walks lately…” His eyes glinted with satisfaction, no doubt feeling boastful about his special ability.

“Well then, perhaps the snakes can tell you where Ominis has gone. I certainly can’t.”

“I see he’s done nothing creative with the place,” said Marvolo, making a show of casting his eyes around. “Bought a distasteful little muggle device and littered the place with books, but aside from that… Not exactly an improvement. Even though father’s been gone for… how long, now?”

She shrugged. In truth, she didn’t know for certain how long it had been. “I have no idea what, if anything, has happened to him.”

“I suppose Ominis didn’t have the heart to tell me our beloved parents went ‘missing’. An owl would have been nice, you know… That or he didn’t have the courage to try to make me disappear as well.”

“Ominis has done nothing of the sort. He’s —”

“I thought you said you didn’t know,” he smirked. “So how do you know he’s innocent?”

“If anyone’s to be suspected of something, it’s you,” she said, leaning forward. “After all, I certainly can’t verify what the snake told you, can I?”

“Ah yes, you’re a mudblood. How could you possibly?”

“For all I know, you’re the —”

“Let me guess. I’m the big bad villain, am I? Why? Because I didn’t spoil your little cripple? Because I didn’t give in to his tantrums and melodramas? He was always so disgusting, the little milk-eye… Such an embarrassment. You have no idea what it’s like to have someone like that born in the family. A burden to be dragged about.”

“You really are vile.”

“Do you think,” he continued, leaning forward to brace his thick arms on his knees, “that your scrawny little boyfriend —”

“— He’s not my boyfriend.”

“— didn’t bring his misfortunes on himself? I think he relished it, as a matter of fact… He loved the attention. It was the only thing he had to contribute, after all. No magical talent, no interest in anyone other than himself, no respect for his own family who made him and raised him in the lap of luxury.”

“You call what you did to him ‘luxury’?!”

“Any other wizard would’ve given an arm and a leg to be born into this noble family. No, Ominis wants to be pitied… It is the only way he can stand out. But I know better. So do mother and father — or at least, they did.”

Her sprawl in the armchair turned more into a coiling, like an angry snake ready to strike, but she kept her jaw shut — clenched, in fact — and let Marvolo’s words wash over her. She burned to defend Ominis, but it was clearly a lost cause. Marvolo spoke as if he believed every word, as if he thought Ominis deserved all the nasty things his family inflicted upon him… She’d met people like that before, usually on the other end of her wand. There was no reasoning with them.

“You are convinced they are dead,” she said coolly. “And yet between you and Ominis, you seem to be the one fond of Unforgivables. Only further leads me to believe you killed them, and have come here to try to pin it on him before the Ministry hears of it.”

“Me?” he laughed. “Why would I hurt my own blood?”

“You need money, correct? All those gambling dens in London must be clamouring to get their dues…” she smirked.

In passing, she knew from Ominis about Marvolo’s stay in London, and his squandering habits. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together…

Marvolo leaned back and smirked, not even attempting to deny it.

“I’ll just remind you that I’m not the only one in this family who is, as you so feebly put it, fond of the Unforgivables.”

“You forced Ominis to use them!”

“You believe everything that blind fool tells you?”

“He’s not a —”

“Although I must admit, pretty girls like you tend not to be very clever. Am I right?”

“Your compliments are as banal as your insults.”

“Come, now,” he chuckled, finally standing up and throwing the parcel back on the sofa. “You’re not as picky as all that, are you?”

With his distinctive heavy steps, hands stuffed in his pockets, Marvolo made his way around the room and vaguely toward her. She could now see that he was leaving mud trails everywhere he went, likely leaving it for the elves to deal with.

“After all,” he shrugged, “if you’ve set up here with that pale bat, your standards must be through the floor.”

“You don’t even care about what happened to your parents, admit it. You’re just upset Ominis is living his life outside of your malign influence.”

“So is that why he’s been dripping the account dry? My account, my inheritance?” he asked, coming slowly closer. “To pay for you? To buy you nice things — although, that piece, I must say,” he tutted and shook his head as he looked her up and down, “not particularly fitting. Guess he must’ve chosen it himself.”

Her fingers itched to curse him, but then Marvolo went by and past her, walking toward the right side of the room. She turned and kept him in her sights as he strolled, completely confident, with his back toward her. Slowly, she rose to her feet and faced him, keeping the armchair between them, ready to duck if tried to take out his wand. She suspected it was either up his sleeve or in his pocket.

“Is that the only reason you’re here?” she asked. “Because you noticed some galleons missing?”

“No,” he said, still looking around. “I’m here because I have yet to receive my annual invitation to father’s special Modranicht feast. Ominis wouldn’t know, he was never invited. It takes… a special pair of eyes to appreciate that celebration,” he grinned, winking at her from over his shoulder.

She glared at him but said nothing. She vaguely knew about the festival, something ancient that used to take place around Christmas Eve. It was supposed to be a celebration of motherhood, although she didn’t want to think of how the Gaunts observed it. The stains down in the dungeon flashed in her memory for a split second.

“Perhaps you have fallen out of your father’s favour,” she said.

Marvolo only laughed and turned his back to her again. His gaze fell to the glass cabinet, and he stepped closer to observe it.

“It is true, though,” he drawled. “I have been a bit of a villain. Not that Ominis didn’t deserve it. He’s never stood up for himself… Not against me, not against mother or father — who, to be fair, is rather terrifying — not even against sissy. I suppose that makes him the family ‘sissy’, doesn’t it?” he laughed. “Which makes me wonder what you’re doing with him.”

“I told you, I’m not doing anything.”

“Sure,” he nodded, looking at her again. “Only wearing his gifts and spending my money and living for months in my house!” said Marvolo, his voice rising with each word until he was shouting at her. His tone changed so quickly from the mocking laughter to the furious rage that it gave her whiplash. “If whoring yourself to a Gaunt is how you pay for your school supplies, so be it,” he said, his tone gentle again. “But you won’t do it on my galleons. Now, you little whore, for the last time: what happened to my father?”

“I’m not your little whore, and I have no idea what befell your father. Since he is supposed to be such a marvellous wizard, I’m sure nothing bad could possibly happen to him.”

“That’s right,” he nodded. “Not from a weakling like Ominis.”

His face turned one last time toward the cabinet and he frowned, noticing that something was off about the display but not being able to tell what.

“Regardless,” Marvolo continued, starting to walk back to her, “just tell me where he is and I’ll take it up with him, brother-to-brother, if not man-to-man.”

“I told you, I don’t know where he is.”

His dark eyes flashed with a dangerous glint as he stalked toward her. “It wouldn’t do to ruin those good looks by lying to me.”

“She told the truth,” came Ominis’ voice. Just then, the fireplace burst green and the flames grew large, dying swiftly to reveal his figure. He was dressed in a long warm cloak, his hands hidden beneath its folds. “But not to worry, Marvolo. Here I am. Now,” he said, stepping out of the fireplace, “I understand you’re looking for our family?”

“Oh, welcome back!” he clapped. “Off to bury their corpses, were you?”

“Oh no,” he said calmly, “I would never do them that honour.”

[believesthings]

Not Just A Girl - Chapter 9 // Jason Sudeikis x Reader

A/N: I was originally going to do a “fade to black” situation here but you guys have been so lovely on your feedback to this story that I figured you deserved some smut, as a treat.

Warnings: smut

You wake up to a steady chirping noise – a steady loud chirping noise. Even through the closed door – and now a pillow over your head – you can hear the insistent alert. You groan. You were having such a lovely dream.

After several cycles it is clear to you that the noise isn’t going to stop. You flip the pillow off your head groggily. Dear Lord what time is it? You check your phone so see it is a little past two in the morning. Is that Jason’s alarm already? Surely he isn’t sleeping through that irritating noise. You pull yourself out of bed and stumble to the door to investigate. You call out as you walk into the hallway. “Jason?”

Jason opens his door a moment later, still adjusting his clothes. Sweatpants? Interesting choice. Judging by his curious expression the source of the noise is not his alarm. “Hey?” He adds a question mark to the end. Clearly still half asleep.

The steady chirp-beat-chirp-beat-chirp pattern sounds louder now while you are standing out in the hallway. There is a delay and the chirping patterns starts again. You hug your arms at your waist, trying not to sound as tired as you feel. “What is that noise? Is that your alarm?”

“No…” Jason tilts his head during the next delay and then breaks into laughter when he sources the noise. “Oh hell. It’s the smoke detector. Must be the batteries.”

“…You’re kidding me.”

While he is turned to look up at the ceiling you note that his shirt is on inside out. A hastily thrown on article of clothing? You didn’t need to put on any clothes on my account, Jason. Why again were you sleeping in the guest room? He spins and is off down the hallway to the kitchen. “Hang on. I think I’ve got some batteries somewhere.”

The smoke detector is still merrily chirping away. It’s always the middle of the night when such things happen. You’re in a full blown giggle fit when he returns, batteries in hand and a chair in tow.

“The joys of owning your own place. No front desk to call for such things.” You move to hold the chair steady while Jason installs the batteries. He reaches up to tend to the device and his shirt pulls up revealing some of his well-defined torso. Your fingers immediately send a request to your brain expressing their desire: Must touch! To maintain control you grip the chair a little more firmly than needed until Jason once again stands on the floor beside you. With the batteries changed the both of you stand in wait, watching the device to make sure it doesn’t sound off again.

That’s when the next unit down the hall starts to chirp, sending you into a fresh wave of laughter. Jason holds out his hand, holding the extra batteries out to you. “Your turn.”

Still laughing, you palm the batteries from him and slide the chair down underneath the next unit. “Please tell me there aren’t any more of these things. Unless you have more batteries somewhere?” Jason hasn’t dropped his hand and it dawns on you that he’s waiting to help you step up onto the seat of the chair. Standing in the chair you consider the detector a moment. You hadn’t been watching when he had pulled the other one down from the ceiling. You bite your lip and take a random guess that it unscrews from a mounted base.

You can hear Jason laugh quietly over the chirps. “I’ve never seen someone concentrate so hard while changing batteries in a smoke detector.”

“I wasn’t watching to see how you did it.” You admit sheepishly. The unit finally clicks loose and you are able to pop out the old batteries. Oh sweet silence.

“Oh?”

You pause after pushing one of the new batteries into place to look down at him. He has taken up a stance just off and behind your right shoulder. “Yes. I got distracted – oh hush.” Ignoring his merriment, you press the second battery in next to the first and you stretch to twist the detector back into place. “This is really your area you know. Shorter people don’t normally mess with things on the ceiling. Particularly not in the middle of the night.” You fiddle with the old batteries in your hands while you wait, anticipating another alarm sounding off but nothing happens.

“Figured you’d want to participate since it did rouse you from bed. Anyway - you’re doing just fine.”

His voice dips slightly with the word fine which sends a shiver down your spine. “Well I do know how to install batteries.” … I know how to install batteries? Good job on screening thoughts before they tumble from your mouth.

Jasonholds out his arms to help you off the chair. His hands slide up from your waist to grip just below your arms as you step down. Once you’ve settled onto the floor he waits a beat before releasing you.

Apparently the pair of you are going to see who drives the other crazy first. Even considering your stubbornness you’re a lingering gaze away from cracking your resolve.

Jason scoops up the kitchen chair and takes the old batteries from you to dispose of them. You start to go back to the guest room and then pause. He is lost in thought when he reappears from the kitchen, one had running through the hair on the back of his head. When he notices you still standing in the hallway he smiles. “We should be good now – it’s safe to go back to bed.”

You nod and let him pass you by with a softly repeated goodnight. You stop in the doorway to the guest room. Oh come on, out with it. This is ridiculous. You take a breath. “Jason?” You wait until he turns and makes eye contact before continuing. “Are we really going to sleep like this until I go back to LA?” You wave both your hands towards the opposing rooms.

“Are we? If that’s what you want. It’s completely up to you.” Jason slowly walks back towards you while he speaks as though you’d startle and run.

Him. You want him.

“Well then –” You exhale and smile up at him now that he is within arm’s reach. You hook your hands behind his neck and pull him into a kiss. Lip locked, you take a step back to draw him with you backwards into the guest bedroom. Thank goodness your bag is off towards the sidewall. Now is not the time to stumble over things.

“I’ve got you.” He chuckles when you emit a squeak upon backing into the bed. You’d lost track of your progress into the room. After following you into the bed he peels you out of your pants while his lips migrate their attentions down towards your collar.

Your hands have once again find their way behind his neck and you finger the tag that hangs from his collar. Hmm. Too many pieces of clothing are still in play. “Your shirt is on inside out, by the way.”

He pauses sucking at your neck to sit back and pull the collar of his shirt away from his body slightly to examine it. “Is it? Um, well – easily solved.” He snatches the back of his shirt just over his shoulder and pulls it off over his head. He starts to turn the shirt right side out and push his arms back through.

Ever the comedian.

When you take it from him to toss it aside you mutter, “Don’t you dare…”

Your brain is in sensory overload. Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined that Jason Sudeikis would have you pinned to the bed, his lips and hands exploring your body. Ok, scratch that, this is exactly what you imagined in your wildest dreams. But those had been just fantasies. You never thought that you’d ever end up coming to know the man, let alone end up beneath him.

After getting you out of your pants so quickly he had taken his sweet time removing your tank top and finally your underwear. Thus far you’ve been careful not to leave any love bites but if he continues to nip at your skin you’ll be happy to give him the same treatment – let him worry about explaining it on set. Jason has worked his way back up to your collar bone. He apparently really enjoys the sounds you make when his lips massage the areas around your neck. Dear Lord Jase, you’re prolonging this to the point it is borderline torture.

Jason stops in the middle of kissing you and stares at you. Did you just say that last thought aloud? It takes you a second to not sound completely out of breath. “Um… what?”

He shakes his head, unable to dim the giant smile plastered on his face. “Nothing. I – I’m happy. Am I not allowed to smile?”

Your body is one giant mass of frustration and he’s stopping to smile at you. But God, what a beautiful smile it is. You manipulate your hips to remind him of the circumstances and he chuckles – an interesting sensation with your bodies pressed together as they are. He shifts away from you to reach towards the bedside table. “Jason? Looking for something?” You’re starting to laugh from his odd behavior.

He pauses, looking momentarily perplexed. “Oh… right. Guest bedroom. Hang on.” He moves to get out of bed and then changes his mind and leans back to you. He gives you a quick peck, hesitates, and kisses you again with a little more force before getting up. “Don’t. Move.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him dash out of the room in nothing but his underwear. You can hear him crashing around his room before a dim light reflects down the hallway. God if he hurts himself… “Jason? Are you okay?”

“What?” He calls back.

You’re sitting up now. “Whatever you’re doing. Can’t it wait?” Are you really begging him for sex? This is slightly embarrassing. Under the sheet you pull your knees up towards your torso and press your fingertips to the space between your eyebrows.

With your eyes closed you hadn’t realized that Jason had reappeared in the doorway. You jump when he speaks. “I wanted to make sure the alarm was set loud enough on my phone and… well – the way things are going – no. It couldn’t.”

Now you’re even more embarrassed. Jesus. Where was your head? You were so focused on instant gratification that you’d blocked out everything else. Jason still had to work in the morning and all you were thinking about was getting him into bed with you. Ok it has been awhile – a very long while – for you but that’s no excuse. How early was his call time? “Ah – right…”

The bed shifts with the added weight as Jason rejoins you. He pulls your hand away from your face and kisses your palm. “Darling, please don’t hide from me…” He starts to massage his thumb into your palm while he waits for you to respond.

“Not hiding, per se – embarrassed.” Your cheeks are burning. You’re either going to die of embarrassment or unsated tension. Your body hasn’t quite decided yet.

You look up to see Jason nodding with his eyes slowly working their way down the exposed part of your body, following the blush as it extends over your skin. “I can see that.”

Unsated tension just gained the upper hand.

His eyes meet yours again and he starts to get up out of the bed. Before he releases the hand he had been massaging you use it to snag his fingers. “Now where are you going?”

He is caught, half standing. He blinks at you. “Um, to put on something more than my pants? You – um? I’m confused.” He allows you to pull him back so he is seated on the bed again.

You shift to tuck your legs beneath you and move up onto your knees, letting the sheet fall down onto the bed. “Darling –” you lean forward to lightly brush your lips against his. “Embarrassment doesn’t equal doubt. And you don’t need clothing right now - you’re not even going to need your pants soon.”

When you pull away again Jason gives you an approving nod, “Is now a weird time for me to tell that I find it incredibly sexy when you call me darling?"

All you can do is laugh.

He cups your face in his hands and brings his lips down to yours. The kiss was slow and tender, both taking your time.

You surrendered yourself to that kiss, releasing all the sexual tension that came out of that night. You both seemed to hold onto each other as if your lives depended on it. The kiss became more and more heated and you stopped to breathe only when the burning of your lungs became unbearable. eyes unconsciously went to the bed. Jason was trying to think, but that became increasing more difficult with each passing second. He thought about what had happened that night with the smoke detectors, what you'd said about staying in the guest room for the rest of your time here. He thought about all that might have been that night, how he might have preferred to have a decorated room and a candlelit dinner, something more romantic to accompany this, but you were together and that's all that mattered.

Your heart was racing. You could tell something had shifted within him—the look in his eyes, the way he touched you, it was different. It was more intense, more connected, more passionate, just more. You knew at that moment he wasn't going to stop where this was going and you knew that you weren’t going to stop this either.

Jason broke the kiss. He looked into your eyes and searched for any sign of hesitation. He saw nothing but passion and pure longing. The sight of your naked body sent such an intense surge of lust through his body that he wondered how it was possible that he thought staying in the guest room was a good idea. He kissed your lips briefly before moving his mouth to your neck through the valley between your breasts and further down until he was kneeling in front of you. Your eyes met briefly before he ran his tongue over your folds, teasing you, and causing you to throw your head back and moan.

As he was doing this, you took the opportunity to hook your legs behind his back and pull him towards you. Jason, still on his knees, obliged your silent request and positioned himself between your legs. He kissed you again, this time it was neither tender nor slow. Your hands worked on the buttons of Jason’s shirt, desperate to feel his naked skin against yours. Jason made himself useful by taking off his sweats. He was just as desperate as you to feel your naked skin against his. You lay back onto the bed pulling Jason on top of you. He discarded his sweats off to the side.

Jason took the time to worship every inch of your body. He loved the way you moaned when he kissed the spot on your neck just over your pulse. He loved the way you whimpered when he ran his mouth and his hands over your breasts. He loved how you impatiently writhed underneath him, grinding against his already rock hard erection, in search of a release. He hovered over you and looked directly in your eyes. “You're beautiful," was all he could say.

"I want you," was all you could say.

He smirked and found your lips again. He brought you into a heated kiss that only left you wanting more. You made a move to remove his boxers, the last piece of clothing separating them, but jason stopped you. “Not yet," he whispered.

Before you had a chance to question his motives, Jason launched a full assault on your senses. He was kissing you with renewed intensity and his hands were suddenly everywhere at once. He was determined to get you off at least a couple of times before you got to the main act.

Jason rolled you both over positioning your lithe, naked body on top of his. He let his hands slide over your form reveling in the smoothness of your skin. Keeping one hand on the swell of your ass, he brought his other hand to the base of your neck and pulled you down for a feverish kiss. He ran his fingers through your hair massaging your scalp and willing your body to relax—to surrender to everything but him and the pleasure he was going to give you. Without reducing any of the passion or intensity, he purposefully slowed the tempo of kiss. While you were kissing him senseless, he moved his hands to the back of your thighs gently pulling them apart so that you had one knee on either side of him. He then put his hands on your hips and began guiding you up and down over his shaft.

You were so lost in his kisses that you didn't realize the position Jason had you in. Suddenly, it wasn't just the sensation of his warm mouth that was driving you mad. Even with his boxers still on, you could feel every bit of his hardened cock. Your instincts immediately took over and it was no longer necessary for Jason to guide your hips up and down. you remained locked in that kiss, your arms positioned over his shoulders as he leveraged your body up and down over his. Jason was more than willing to let you use his body to pleasure yourself. He himself was lost in the kiss while his hands had free range over your smooth, perfect skin. When your body began to speed up over him, he knew you were close and he put those skilled hands to work. He, not so gently, grabbed your ass and began thrusting his hips in tandem with yours. You sat up, exposing your upper torso to jason’s hungry eyes. You hated to break the kiss, but your body was desperate for a release and you needed to focus all your energy and attention to what your lower half was doing. You closed your eyes and threw your head back while continuing to rub against jason. He took that opportunity to latch his mouth onto your left breast while fondling your right breast with his hand all the while continuing to grind against you. It was all the added stimulation you needed and within seconds, your body was convulsing with euphoric energy. It took all of his self control not to come with you especially since you called out his name over and over as you rode out your orgasm in his arms.

Exhausted, you collapsed against him, completely blissed out. He kissed your head and laid you gently on the mattress. He could still feel your body pulsating and before you had the chance to catch your breath, he began stimulating you again. He moved off the bed and, being sure not to break eye contact, he pushed his boxers down exposing his still very erect cock. You grinned at the sight of his beautiful, strong, body while still trying to gain control of your breathing. Seeing Jason naked and obviously turned on was not helping matters. Nor did it help when he moved his body over yours. With his arms extended on either side of you, Jason hovered over you, your bodies would not have been touching at all save for the fact that the tip of his very hard and very eager cock was pushing against your lower stomach. You licked your lips drawing jason’s attention to your mouth before reaching down to stroke him. Jason let out a grateful moan before letting his body fall gently on yours, naked flesh against naked flesh. The kiss was heated from the beginning as you both reveled in the feeling the other completely naked.

Although loving the feeling of your hand on his cock, he reluctantly pried your fingers off him. He needed to slow things down a bit or he would never last until he was inside you. In your eagerness to give him some pleasure of your own, you attempted to grasp him again but he slyly moved away. Kneeling between your legs, Jason took a moment to appreciate the view of your naked body. He flashed you a smirk before pushing a finger into your wet folds. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a breathy moan. You began to move against his hand and he watched in awe as your body writhed in pleasure. He expertly moved his fingers inside you, circling your clit with his thumb. Not being able to resist, he dipped his head down to taste you as you lay gripping the sheets and calling out his name between moans of pleasure. It wasn't long before you were nearing your peak once again, at which point Jason redoubled his efforts employing the use of his fingers and his very talented tongue. Your body shook with the effects of your second orgasm of the night. Jason, once again, stopped to enjoy the view. Seconds after your body stopped shaking, Jason was leaning over to the nightstand to retrieve a condom.

You watched in wonder as he opened the package and placed the condom over the tip of his throbbing cock. Jason paused and your eyes met for a moment. He then took your hand in his and kissed it lovingly before bringing it down to his other hand, the one holding the condom over his cock. He wanted to let you know that it was still your decision—that they could stop now if you wanted to. You didn't. You eased your hand down and covered him with the latex. Much to Jason's pleasure, you slid your hand over him a few more times than necessary to ensure the condom was in place.

Jason gently moved your hands off him and hovered over you once more. He kissed you softly before positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. He teased the wetness of your folds causing you to instinctively spread your legs further apart and pulling him closer. You tried to look down between them, but with a knowing hand, Jason tilted your head back so you were facing him.

"Look at me, Baby. Keep your eyes on me," was his gentle command.

You nodded. "Ok," you answered obediently.

Jason distracted you with a slow, languid kiss before he gently pushed the head of his cock into you. You moaned in pleasure and expressed her gratitude by responding more vigorously to Jason's kisses. After a few seconds, Logan pulled out and thrust in more deeply. You gave a surprised whimper and Jason could felt your body immediately tense.

"Sshhh, it's ok," he comforted. "I'm right here. Relax."

You tried to do just that. He unclenched your muscles and moved your legs further apart. "I'm ok," you assured him.

Jason kissed her lips and stroked your face He pulled back and spent a few seconds rubbing himself over your folds. you momentarily forgot about any discomfort and reveled in the pleasant sensations he was eliciting. You knew he was holding back for you and while you appreciated it, you wanted to know the feeling of having him completely inside of you.

"It's ok, Jason. I'm ready," you whispered.

Jason once again pushed into you. He moved slowly careful not to cause you any more discomfort than necessary. He based his actions on your reaction to him. Whenever he felt your muscles begin to relax, he push in a little deeper. He knew he was near the barrier and his body was fighting a losing battle. He needed to be inside you. With one more loving kiss and one last reassuring look, he thrust completely into her. He looked into your eyes and you heard him whispering sweet nothings.

"It's ok, baby. Look at me. I'm right here." He grunted as he continued to move inside of you. "You're so beautiful,". You're so amazing," he whispered between thrusts.

His sweet whispers made your heart swell with emotion and you began to move with him. Feeling her respond to him was all Jason needed. His thrusts became less slow and less gentle and your dull ache turned into an pleasurable one. You hooked your right leg over his back allowing Jason to plow deeper into you which succeeded in pushing Jason past his breaking point. You wrapped her arms around his neck and in breathy whispers, encouraged him to let his body have what it so desperately wanted.

"I've wanted this for so long, Jason" you confided. "Just let go, baby. I'm not going to be far behind you."

With that, Jason's body completely took over. He pumped wildly into your willing body. He moaned out your name at the feeling of you clenching around him, feeling your third orgasm of the night build up around him. He tried to be careful when collapsing on top of you. You could feel the violent beating of his heart as he lay motionless on top of you. After a few seconds, Jason rolled you on your sides so he wasn't crushing you with his weight. He looked into your eyes and could manage nothing but a euphoric smile. There were no words to express what he felt at that moment, you happily laid there staring at each other until their breathing returned to a normal pace. Jason then kissed you softly. He wanted to say something beautiful and meaningful, something you'd always remember.

"Hi," was all he could come up with.

"Hi, Jason" you responded with an equally euphoric smile on your face.

He brushed your hair off your face and placed a kiss on the tip of your nose before reluctantly getting out of bed to dispose of the condom. He peaked his head back in, "Be right back." Before you can even comprehend what he means, you hear him making all sorts of noise in what sounds like the kitchen. What on earth? He retuns with bottled waters, a Snickers bar, and a bag of peanut M&Ms. He then grabs bag of chocolate covered espresso beans he'd brought you earlier that night and deposited everything on the nightstand.

"Wow. That's quite the spread you got there."

Jason climbed into bed and immediately pulled you into his arms.

"Well, I figured I couldn't go wrong with chocolate" answered Jason

"You figured correctly." You say snuggling into his side.

"Ok,. M&Ms or espresso beans?"

"Or? Don't you mean And?" you said playfully.

Jason laughed. "Of course." The two of you sat up in bed laughing and talking about nothing in particular as Jason fed you the M&Ms and espresso beans. After some nagging from you about his early morning start you both finally settled in to get some sleep.

"You ok?" asked Jason as you laid your head on his bare chest.

"I'm perfect," you answered yawning. It had been a very long day.

Jason kissed your head and engulfed you in his arms. The night hadn't turned out exactly how he planned— but he was falling asleep with you in his arms and it was the most perfect moment of his life.

____________________

A steady beeping wakes you. You mutter into the pillow. “Uugggh. Oh hell, not again…”

“That’s not the smoke detectors, That’s my alarm.” Jason's reply is muffled because he is talking into the side of his arm. You laugh and wriggle your body further into his. Best. Trip. Abroad. Ever. Traveling around with the cast during the filming of All Your Monsters was great but this is something completely different. Maybe it is just the company you’re keeping.

You’re remarkably well rested considering all the interruptions to your sleep schedule. You can feel Jason roll in the bed just before he wraps his arm over your midsection. His breath on your neck gives you goose bumps. “I should get up for work.”

You are enjoying the warmth of his body pressed against yours but the unrelenting noise of the alarm prevents you from falling back asleep. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Enough.” He takes a deep breath. “Ok. I’m getting up now. Getting up to go to work.”

“And to turn off that alarm?” You wait but he doesn’t move. “Would it help if I got up too?” You let the question hang and are met with silence. You sit up and his arm falls down into your lap. You prod him, “Well?”

“I’m thinking….” He is smiling and keeping his eyes closed as though that will forestall the day. “Debatable.”

You scoot from his grasp to get out of bed. After plucking a shirt and some underwear from your bag you peek back over at the bed. Jason has shifted only slightly but you’re happy to see that he at least has his eyes open now.

“Right. So are you going to get up to turn off that alarm or am I going to have to accidentally make a phone call at an ungodly hour in the morning?” You’d much rather jump back into bed with him but you know that is impractical. Rather than tempt yourself by watching him get out of bed you make your way into his room to search out and silence his alarm. You call out to him moments before sighting the phone laying where he had apparently tossed it onto the haphazardly arranged sheets on his bed. “Where is your phone? Oh…”

Jason finds you examining the lock screen of his phone – a beautiful shot of a London sunrise. He tosses his shirt and sweatpants into his laundry bin before reaching around you to slide his finger over the screen and pressing the sequence to unlock his phone and then silence the alarm. The picture that you are now greeted with is of you - one that he captured from one of the first few days you spent with him in LA. He kisses your temple before smiling down at the picture. “Maybe we can update that this week.”

You carefully place his phone on the side table before turning to swat him towards the bathroom. “Maybe. Now go shower – I’ll make you some coffee? Tea? If you have time - maybe some sort of breakfast depending on what you have in the kitchen…”

He pauses just before entering the bathroom to look back at you, surveying your attire head to foot. “If you’ll be making breakfast dressed like that I may need to supervise.”

Right. You’re still in a shirt and underwear. Funny how he makes you forget such things. You shake your head at him. “Jason. Shower. Supervise tomorrow if you feel so inclined.”

Jason takes a few steps into the bathroom, doing a slight shuffle when his bare feet hit the apparently cold tile floor. "Wouldn’t you like to join me?“

Yes. But no. That would be counterproductive. If you stand there too much longer you’ll lose your willpower to stay out of the shower. Maybe if you put on pants, or he puts on more clothes, or both… Or if he would stop almost-dancing about the bathroom. You shake your head. "I’ll shower after you leave. Is that a yes or no to caffeine? Breakfast?” You don’t wait for his reply, turning to head to the kitchen.

Jason's voice echoes to you from the bathroom just before you hear the water for the shower being turned on. “They’ll have something there, probably. But – yes to coffee. Yes. Please!”

The coffee machine appears to require special packets in order to make coffee. While searching the cabinets you stumble upon a French press and a bag of pre-ground coffee, opting for the simpler method rather than continuing the quest for the packets. While the water heats in the kettle on the stove you retrieve your phone from the guest bedroom, straightening the bed sheets and picking up your discarded clothing. You start back to the kitchen and then do a u-turn while muttering to yourself. “Pants. Pants would be good.” 

tag list: @my-soupy-brain @tegan8314 @tortilla-maria1 @nerdgirljen @cavillsim @superloveeverything

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night

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.

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 back pack 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.

Anyone on my master taglist will be tagged for this too, as usual! But if you'd like to be tagged in grown up Zach and Dio's story, leave a comment on this post!

[olderthannetfic]

I'm a known writer for my fandom. It's a very small fandom, so it doesn't really mean anything, but I got there early and built a nice little following.

I don't know what happened in the past few weeks, but I suddenly started getting a bunch of anon asks in my inbox demanding I express myself on the "issue" that is the current Palestinian situation. I've been ignoring them, blocking the anons, but they just kept fucking coming.

Under my last fic, I got a couple of guest comments accusing me of being antisemitic and a couple of guest comments accusing me of being an islamophobic colonizer. Under the same story!! How???

I had to disallow guest comments and anons, so now I keep receiving insults and demands that I express my opinion through sock puppet accounts. I don't know how many fucking times I've been so far labelled as a Zionist and an antisemite, and the last asks I've received got really over the top and violent, claiming that I'm the reason why Palestinian children are dying and I'm a privileged white woman (I'm not white and emigrated from a third world country, but ok) and I'm contributing to genocide.

And I'm so fucking tired of this internet activism! So, so fucking tired!

Because the reason why I engage with fandom is to take a step away from reality. I watch the fucking news, I spend my due time informing myself about global issues on the internet, I do discuss this shit with my IRL friends and colleagues and family members, I go to protests, and during the BLM protests I was out there helping with water and first aid.

But fandom is fucking me time. It's the time of my day when I unplug my brain and write whatever the fuck I want, reblog gif sets on Tumblr, and watch thirst traps on TikTok. I don't log into Tumblr, the site that cunts use to spread misinformation and fake Go Fund Me's and people who pretend to have written My Immortal to promote their shitty memoir, to receive or do any kind of information.

Stop looking for influencers and random people on the internet to explain to you global issues! Why the fuck are you people so into your own asses that you can't fucking understand the reason why some kid who got famous for dancing while wearing cat ears doesn't want to talk about their opinion about far more serious matters?

Everything has a place and a time, and some people realize that their audience goes to them to detach from reality, rather than being reminded of it.

"Oh, but if you don't talk about it, it means you're supporting the bad guys!" Sure! Because the fucking apartheid is build specifically on me not wanting to use my fandom blog to post pictures of dead children and raped women! Too bad that Nelson Mandela became an activist before the internet, uh? He could've solved a bunch of issues by posting a couple of Insta stories!

"Oh, you don't realize how privileged you are to be able to ignore the issue!" I'm not fucking ignoring it, I'm ignoring it in places where my opinion matters less than zero! And yes, I'm fully aware that I'm privileged to be able to ignore it, but you're disgusting because you're using it as a way to build a following on a blogging platform. Hope that posting pictures of slaughtered human bodies was really worth the 50 followers it got you, Allison!

I don't know if this makes sense. Whatever. I'm fucking pissed.

--

Sounds like a bunch of clowns in a discord somewhere decided to target you or something.