#tonics for the soul

[safaristylez]

erm old art that i dont really like but old hms mermaid au with the most batshit insane lore from like august or september 2023

revamping this au becaus ?! i wanna

[manderleyfire]

Oh, Ginny he remembered.  Ginny he knew.  Ginny who he recollected by the crack of her bones beneath his gripping hand, her body squirming under his as she tried to get away from him, the scent of salty tears and her own terror.  He had always known he would find her again, somehow.

[andy-clutterbuck]

i don't know what it is about andy but it drives me crazy. he's not even my type at all and yet he's like the #1 person i am most attracted to 😭😭 it makes no sense

I get it, friend 🙃 I know what that's like. For the past 4 months Keanu Reeves and I have been having a thing™, dude's been around my whole ass life he was in the issues of Bop I was stealing from my older sister when I still had a bed time. But the dude quite literally CAME TO ME IN A DREAM??? showing up in my kitchen in the middle of the night saying I had to come with him he didn't have time to explain before jumping out the window. And since then he hasn't left me alone.

......That weird ass story was just for me to say EMBRACE IT, it doesn't have to make sense ENJOY IT ✨Andy is A GOOD ONE. the heart....and other parts want what they want. even if it makes you go

YOU'VE GOT GOOD TASTE. I'm always here to listen, you can't scare me 💚

[realkaijuhavecurves]

If the world is such a bad place then why lentil soup

[lifebuildingblog]

sometimes i feel melancholy about life and then I remember that I haven't properly watched a season of adventure time in a while

[schmweed]

"Kale consumed raw Gets stuck in one’s craw; But kale, marinated, Is still overrated."

Observation on a Vegetable That Was Probably Unknown to Ogden Nash by Douglas G. Brown, one of the honorable mentions of The Spectator’s Competition 3133, which asked readers to provide a passage about food written in the style of a well-known author.

[healerinchief]

Making a gallon of nourishing tea for the week. 😊

[m00nlight-ramblings]

Talk

As a famous singer, you find yourself at the same terrible party as Hozier, but you two decide to do something about it.

Pairing: fem reader x Hozier

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, p in v (protected) sex, fingering, 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who waited for this one...I'm so sorry it took so long. Please enjoy, and remember, my inbox is open for requests!

This party sucked.

Somehow, at one of the biggest album release parties of the year, you found yourself bored out of your mind, sipping on a weak gin and tonic. Leaning against a corner wall, the bass of the music from the DJ vibrated through you as you watched other people dance – your bandmates were somewhere amongst them, but for whatever reason, you just weren’t feeling it. Maybe you were just in a mood, maybe it was the music (one good song for every ten awful ones), but you sipped your drink, checking your phone every so often until it became a polite time to excuse yourself. You could already taste the revelry of getting back to your house before midnight – pajamas, Thai takeout, and scrolling aimlessly on your phone while Grey’s Anatomy reruns played in the background.

Suddenly, you saw a head bobbing around the others in the crowd – standing what seemed like almost a full foot above everyone else, his thick, curly hair pulled back in a half bun, he smiled and tilted his head to the music distractedly. Your breath hitched for a moment as you saw him – you had seen Hozier at countless red carpets and events in the past year it seemed, but he was also more handsome than the last time. He turned his head and your eyes locked, making you blush, and making him smile. He gently pressed a hand on someone’s back to alert that he was making his way behind him.

As if the giant could ever go unnoticed.

“Hi,” He said as he landed next to you, sipping from his drink. Something brown and in a rocks glass, one giant ice cube anchoring the liquid.

Of course.

“I feel like I needed to come over and speak to you – we seem to orbit each other at basically every red carpet this year.” He spoke, seemingly reading my mind. You smiled.

“That’s funny – I was just thinking that.”

Hozier nodded and his eyes scanned the crowd before landing back at you. It was like he was staring into your soul. Extending a hand, he smiled, “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m –”

“I know who you are,” You admitted, somewhat bashfully as you shook his hand. “I’m a big fan. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” He echoed, a smirk playing on his lips mischievously, “I’m a big fan.”

You could feel your blush deepen as his smooth words washed over you. His accent was enough for you to want to drop your panties, and his smile was already sending your head upside down.

“Your ‘Best New Artist’ win was well deserved,” He continued. “Your album was one of my favorites this year. Selfishly, I hope you guys are working on another one.”

“Wow, thank you,” You breathed, your heart thumping in your chest, “That means a lot coming from one of like, the best lyricists of our generation.”

“Ah,” Hozier waved his hand, bashful, “Come now.”

You cocked an eyebrow and smiled, “You’re going to write something like ‘I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found, I'd be the choiceless hope in grief, that drove him underground’ and not expect to be considered that?”

He simply shrugged and sipped his drink. He was blushing, embarrassed.

“This album was also very good,” He changed the subject, speaking of the current album release party. He cleared his throat, “Even though this party sucks.”

You laughed and gently grabbed his forearm in agreement, “Yes! What is that about?!”

“I think it’s the DJ,” He admitted, leaning into you, “The guys releasing this album are buddies of mine, but I’m starting to think if I need to end our friendship based on the DJ they picked for this party.”

“The music he’s playing is making me feel old,” You admitted, “I don’t know any of the songs, and I don’t seem to really like it, either. Is this what our parents feel like when we were listening to Good Charlotte and Britney Spears?”

“Not mine. My mom loves Good Charlotte.” His eyes twinkled.

You laughed. Your eyes fell on your bandmates dancing to the music, obviously drunk off of the expensive beer being served at the open bar. You were acutely aware of Hozier standing next to you, his heat seemingly radiating.

“Is it an inappropriate time to tell you that I think you look beautiful tonight?” He asked, his breath warm on your ear as he leaned down to whisper it. Shivers were sent down your back as he spoke. You turned your head and looked at him, trying to play it cool with the smile that played on your lips.

“Probably not, considering how I’ve been thinking about how handsome you look since I saw you from across the room tonight.” You retorted, titling your head. He smiled and nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“I’m reminded of your beauty every time I see you at events,” Hozier said, his hand finding the small of your back, “And, admittedly, every time I scroll your Instagram feed.”

You laughed, “Hozier is my internet stalker, eh?”

“Can you blame me? That number you had on at the Grammy’s this year?” He made a face, whistling, “It took every ounce of strength not to follow your account as soon as you were done presenting on stage.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” You asked, almost interrupting him. He seemed taken aback, so you tried to backtrack, “I mean…in a bit. We could go somewhere where…the DJ doesn’t suck? After we finish our drinks.”

Hozier quickly chucked back the rest of his drink, putting the glass on the nearest table. “Let’s go.” He took your hand as you chugged the rest of yours as well, finding the spot next to his glass for yours.

He guided you through the party, his hand never leaving the small of your back. You felt heat rushing through you as you made your way to front door, and Hozier handed the valet his ticket. He turned to you.

“Did you drive here?”

You shook your head. “Car service.”

“Great. We can take my car then.”

As the valet pulled up in a sleek Audi, Hozier thanked him and handed him a large bill as a tip. He waited until you were situated in your seat before he slid into the driver’s side, closing his door and pulling into traffic. Some sort of blues-y jazz was coming through the speakers softly.

“So where are you kidnapping me to, Mr. Internet Stalker?” You teased, looking out the window at the lights of downtown L.A.

He smiled, “My hotel,” His voice was a low purr. You exchanged a glance as he leaned his head forward, in explanation, “The bar there is really nice. Live jazz band tonight. It’s mellow.”

You nodded and smiled. As your heart raced, you were trying to calm yourself down, fiddling with the clasp on the purse in your lap. Hozier’s arm was resting on the console in between you, and every so often, his hand inched closer to you. By the time he pulled into the swanky hotel parking lot, his large hand was resting gently on your thigh.

Your stomach was in excited knots.

After another valet exchange, Hozier took your hand and led you inside the hotel. It was grand and beautiful – a $500/night type place. To the right of the entrance was a beautiful restaurant, speakeasy in style. As promised, a four-piece band was set up in the corner of the bar, playing soft tunes and creating the atmosphere of an underground jazz club.

“Told you,” Hozier said, raising his eyebrows playfully, “And the drinks are great as well. Had one before the release party.”

“It’s really nice.” You awkwardly agreed. Hozier stopped for a moment, his face unreadable. He stood before you.

“I also have a minibar upstairs in my room, if you want something to drink.”

“Oh, that sounds much better.” The coil in your belly was itching to be sated, and you didn’t know how much you could play this cat-and-mouse game of will they/won’t they. For a moment, a darkness of lust flickered in his eyes, but he simply smiled and took your hand, leading you to the elevator. He scanned his room card and pressed the button to the top floor.

The air in the elevator was thick, heavy. You both stood facing the door, saying nothing. As the doors open and he led you to his suite, your heartbeat doubled in time. Flicking the lights on, he shut the door behind you, placing the lock in it’s place.

It took all of 30 seconds before your bodies crashed together, teeth clacking and moans erupting.

Hozier grabbed you and pushed your floor length dress up so they he was able to wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed. Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers finding their way into his hair. You pulled back slightly, your breath ragged already.

“So what the fuck do I call you?” You asked, breathlessly.

Confused, he looked at you, “What?”

“I need to know what I’m saying when I scream your name later…is it Hozier, or is it Andrew?”

He barked out a laugh and bit your lip, “Andrew. Andrew is fine.” He pressed his lips on yours again, dropping on top of you as he guided you to the bed. His large hands ran their way up and down your waist, palming at the skin on your body. He was moaning, grunting into the kiss, as your tongues danced together. You felt his hands leave your waist and slip your heels off, your toes already curling.

Andrew pulled away and slipped off the tweed suit jacket he was wearing. He looked down at you as he shook his head, a smile playing on his lips.

“So fucking beautiful,” He murmured, pressing hot kisses down your neck. “So fucking sexy. Every time I see you.”

You moaned and pressed your hips to him slightly, causing him to gasp lightly in surprise. He kissed down your neck, to your collarbone, gently slipping the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders. Licking a stripe from your neck to just above your breasts, he smiled, looking at you.

“Fuck,” You breathed, looking down at him. You watched as he stood, slipping off his shoes and socks next to the bed. He unbuttoned his dress shirt and slipped that off, revealing his thin, hairy chest. He was lean, built lithly but strong. Biting your lip, you stifled a moan. He was on you once again, pulling you into a kiss, his hand cradling the back of your neck. His other hand made quick work of the zipper on the back of your dress, and he shimmed it down, before sliding it off of you completely.

Revealing the intricate…shapewear…you wore underneath.

For a moment, both of you stopped breathing, looking down at the ugly, functional corset that covered your body. Embarrassed, you pressed your lips together before looking back at Andrew. Suddenly, both of you were in hysterics.

“I really wish I was wearing some sexy lingerie right about now.” You said, throwing your head back and cackling. Andrew laughed and peppered kisses on your cheeks, shaking his head as he undid the shapewear and took that off as well.

“That was brilliant,” He said, wiping a tear away from laughing, “What a fuckin’ reveal.” As he took it off, you were completely nude, your skin softly pressed against his fingers. He groaned as he took you in, “That’s much better.” His voice was back to husky, low.

He kissed you once more before his fingers found their way to your clit, spreading your legs gently. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as his fingers felt your wetness. Quickly, he inserted two fingers, pushing his long digits all the way in. You moaned and furrowed your brow as he didn’t move for a moment, letting you adjust.

“You’re so wet for me already, darlin’.” He purred, his forehead on yours. You whimpered and nodded. He started to pump inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. Immediately you started to squirm, which made me smile.

“Jesus Christ, Andrew.” You said, your eyes flickering to his fingers moving in and out of you. Heat rose in you as you watched him, the pleasure evident on his face as he licked his lips. When your eyes found his again, you found him looking at you, and not his handiwork.

“I love seeing you like this,” He said plainly, “You’re so beautiful when you squirm.”

He increased his speed, causing you to buck your hips. He nodded, his eyes twinkling, as he continued to pleasure you with his fingers. He leaned down to kiss you – a hot, open-mouthed kiss, with his tongue finding yours immediately. You moaned into it as he curved his fingers inside of you and took your bottom lip in his mouth, sucking gently. Pulling away, he dipped his head and moved his tongue to your hardened nipple, sucking on the bud as your body started to convulse under him.

The coil in your belly was tightening, and fast. Your hips started to buck faster, your wetness pooling out on to his fingers. You started to repeat his name like a prayer, and as you moved closer to the edge, your hand found its way into his hair again, tugging lightly.

“I’m close.” You whimpered.

“I know,” He smiled, moving his mouth to your ear, “Come for me. Be a good girl.”

You gasped slightly at his words as the coil snapped, bucking your hips one last time before your orgasm sent waves of pleasure through you. You moaned loudly, gripping the back of his head tightly as he bit down on your earlobe, never stopping his fingers inside of you.

“That’s it,” He groaned, his voice raspy, “That’s it, pretty girl. Give it all to me. Show me how pretty you are when you come for me.”

Your head swam and your heart raced, your eyes squeezed shut because you could focus. The pleasure that was spreading through you was warm, electric – it was one of the best orgasms you had ever had, and it was only with his fingers.

Jesus Fuckin’ Christ.

After a few moments, Andrew slipped his fingers out, causing you to open your eyes, your breath coming in heaving pants. He was smiling, obviously proud. Slowly, he licked his digits as he stood, moaning.

“Jesus, you taste delicious.” He said, looking at you. He undid the button and zipper on his pants, the obvious tent of his arousal very evident before he slipped them off. Down came his pants and boxer briefs, his large member springing free, wet with precum. He made his way over to a duffle bag thrown on a chair in the corner of the room and rifled through it, finally emerging with a condom in between his fingers. Opening it quickly, he slid it on himself, pumping himself a few times as he walked back to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Are you ready?” He asked, straddling himself in front of you, continue to stroke himself.

“Actually, if you’re not inside of me within the next few seconds I might lose my fucking mind.” You said, watching him. It was silly, but seeing him touch himself in front of you like that made him seem like a god. He smiled and crawled on top of you, slowly positioning himself at your entrance. As his tip teased your wet folds, you whimpered.

Finally, Andrew slid himself inside of you in a single thrust, his forehead finding yours again. Your moans filled the room, and as he started to pump inside of you, the familiar numb feeling of being filled spread throughout you.

“So good,” You said, closing your eyes and pressing your head to the pillow, “So, so good, Andrew.”

“That’s it,” He said, his breath hitching, “Wanna make you feel good. You make my cock feel so good.” He dipped his head in the crook of your neck as he started to slowly increase his pace, finding himself deeper inside of you. The sound of your wet skin slapping together filled the room, matched only by your breathy groans and his primal grunts.

“Fuck!” You shrieked, Andrew finding a particular spot that made your vision fuzzy. Andrew tilted his head up to look at you and he smiled.

“Yeah? Right there, darlin’?” He asked. You nodded, your brows knitted together. His hand found your chin, holding it roughly, “You like it when I fuck you right there?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Lemme hear you say it, baby.” He gently commanded.

“Fuck. Yes, Andrew, right there!” You said, unable to take your eyes off of him. His eyes darkened as he continued to fuck you, his face flushing.

“My name sounds so good on your lips.” He groaned, continuing to pump in you. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he continued to hit your spot. His hand moved from your chin to your tits, and as he pinched your hardened nipples, you moaned. His thrusts became erratic, irregular.

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” You toyed with him, taking a moment to bite down on his bottom lip, “My pussy so good you’re gonna come for me?”

“Fuck,” He barked, furrowing his brows, “You’re so fucking tight…you’re so wet…I’m gonna come soon. I’m close,” His face flushed deeper as he stared into your eyes, making your heart thunder in your chest. Suddenly, he squeezed his eyes shut, his head thrown back, voice parted in a silent moan.

You felt his cock twitch inside of you, the condom filling with his orgasm. He jerked his hips, almost a spasm, as he moaned your name. His hands gripped the pillows on either side of you, his biceps flexing. You smiled as he finally opened his eyes, almost in submission as he rode out his orgasm. Your hands found their way to his back, gripping him and bringing him closer.

A few moments went by as he stayed inside of you, trying to catch up with his breathing. He placed gentle kisses on your cheek lazily, finally rolling out of you. Standing, he quickly made his way to the bathroom to toss the condom and clean himself up, but laid next to you again, scooping you up in his arms.

“You’re fucking incredible.” He murmured in your ear, his Irish accent coming out with his tired demeanor. You giggled and looked at him, brushing a sweaty lock of hair behind his ear.

“I’m really glad that party sucked so bad,” You said. He chuckled, his eyes still closed. Opening one, he looked down at you.

“Me too…” He paused for a moment, drawing you closer, “Though, even if that party was fun, I still would’ve made my way over to you.”

“Yeah?”

Andrew nodded and shifted so he was propping himself up on his elbow, “Yeah. I had been trying to muster up the courage for like…three awards shows to come over and say hi to you, now. Months worth of time.” He was somewhat bashful. You blushed.

“Well I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” He reached out and started to brush his fingers through your hair, and you couldn’t help the fluttering in your chest.

That party sucked. But you were glad it did.

---

A/N: I'm actually kind of obsessed with their banter and relationship...should I make this multiple parts?! I was originally only planning on doing this as a oneshot but I kind love them (teehee).

As always, comments and reblogs mean a lot if you liked this one <3 Thanks for reading

[snapscube]

NEW MIDNIGHT SNAP IS OUT!!!

A bit of an unorthodox pick for the show on the surface, but one that I hope is enjoyable all the same! "Red Dead Redemption 2" is a game that I have been wanting to cover, or even simply just take the time to play in full, since its release in 2018. Its mixture of cinematic storytelling and slow, contemplative open world gameplay has always intrigued me and as of late has felt like the perfect tonic to soothe my weary yeehaw-less soul. Your feedback will determine whether this is a good fit for the show and whether it continues, so let me know how it sits!

[slavicviking]

Dipping my toes in the ‘oblivious Eddie has no functioning gaydar which results in mild miscommunication’ genre of the Steddie experience, hope you enjoy!

Ao3 extended version

“My, my, are my eyes deceiving me? Steve Harrington himself has graced these sinful halls?”

Instead of a sneer Eddie’s been expecting, Steve’s face lights up with a smile. He lifts his hand to wave at him with much more enthusiasm than expected. Which is… weird since they have maybe talked once when the guy picked up Eddie’s new freshmen from Hellfire. Well, almost as weird as meeting a Harington in a gay bar itself. 

“Munson, hi!”

A little dumb-founded, Eddie waves back weakly, his eyes catching the sight of Robin Buckley at the bar behind them. Ah, so there’s the reason Harrington’s here.

“You’re here as an ally, I presume.”

“Uhm, yeah I guess so?” Steve pouts, confused, before smiling again. “You too, then?”

“Sure, let’s say that.”

“Hey, you should sit with us,” Harrington grins as if that’s actually a good idea. Before Eddie manages to think of an excuse, he’s being dragged towards Buckley by the sleeve. “Come on.”

“Munson,” Robin nods at him in greeting, something akin to a mischievous smirk on her face. Why, he doesn’t begin to understand. 

“You look good, by the way,” a deep voice whispers into his ear as they set off towards the tables and Eddie has to do everything for his soul not to leave his body. Steve… is being way friendlier than expected. But that’s what it is, he has to remind himself before it gets too dangerous, just guys being dudes.

The ‘us’ in question turns out to be more than just the bizarre Harrington-and-Buckley duo. There’s Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers and some tall guy with the best hair he’s seen, not counting Harrington of course, bless his hair-sprayed soul. They don’t seem all that surprised he’s here at all which - fair enough, but also that he’s here at this table and that he doesn’t know how to explain. Nancy Wheeler, though, ever the enigma keeps shooting him loaded glances. He’s pretty sure she sniffed out his embarrassing crush on, ugh, Steve Harrington and she’s- Jealous maybe? Probably? As if there is a universe where he, Eddie Munson, poses a threat to someone like Nancy fucking Wheeler. 

Steve sits himself closest to Eddie, maybe because he’s feeling guilty - as he should be - about throwing him into a table full of basically-strangers or maybe for a different, Harrington-unexplainable reason. The point is, he’s close, Eddie can smell his aftershave and cigarettes and it’s the best and worst thing that’s happened to him. 

He keeps talking, too, asking Eddie questions about DnD (and isn’t that a head-scratcher in itself) and what conditioner he’s using because he really likes his hair (as if Steve wasn’t the embodiment of every shampoo commercial ever made). The gin-and-tonic Eddie’s been sipping must’ve been stronger than he thought because he swears he hears Steve saying something like ‘I don’t know, I think you’re really pretty’ at one point. 

Eddie is starting to wonder if Harrington, perhaps, has been replaced with a pod person.

There’s a few more attempts at small talk from Steve but Eddie’s too confused and trying so hard to not be hopeful because a second edition of a pathetic crush on a straight dude (Steve, his mind supplies helpfully) is going to be too painful. Harrington seems kind of down afterwards, sliding off his chair and towards the bar which leaves Eddie with an infamous Buckley glare. Followed by an aggravating assault to his shin. 

“Ow, Jesus, what the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” Robin is quick to retort. “What’s your problem? I thought you had a crush on him! It’s frankly kind of fucking obvious.”

Okay, whoa, rude. 

“I don’t,” Eddie sneers back but falters when she levels him with a blank stare. “Fine, I do. Whatever. Way to kick a man when he’s down.”

“Dingus, he’s been all over you for the last hour. He’s been flirting like crazy and you, for some reason, keep shooting him down, what the hell?”

“But-” But he’s straight. Right? He turns to see Steve at the bar and - oh, there’s some guy with curly hair touching Steve’s arm and Steve’s smiling and blushing and- “What?”

That won’t do.

“Go get your man,” Robin says, practically shoving him off his stool to emphasize her point. Eddie scrambles from the floor, ignores the intense looks from the rest of the table and marches towards the bar.

“I’m coming, Stevie.”

[todayontumblr]

Tuesday, October 17.

Art for the soul.

There are #artists on tumblr, famously. They are here, there, and more-or-less everywhere, as you might have noticed. But they are not just artists: they are something of medical professionals, uniquely qualified to deal in matters of well-being and the health of the soul. So as the nights get a little colder, darker, and indeed, longer, here they provideth a wealth of spiritual tonics to help allay any unpleasant symptoms—with this abundance of mysterious artistic talent. 

Put another way: some cute illustrations of cats, queers in boxes, talented crows, and skateboarding dogs to help remedy whatever Tuesday has thrown your way. Just what the good doctors ordered.

Enjoy it. You got this x

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura

Summary: This was supposed to be a Rhysand x Reader Calanmai One Shot and boy oh boy did it spiral into a whole, multi chapter AU fic 🤷🏼‍♀️ It’s now a what if Rhys’s mate was someone other than Feyre and they both end up Under the Mountain together fic

Content Warnings: Eventual Smut, Some Suggestiveness because Rhys is here, I mean look at him everyone wants that male; canon typical violence, UTM. Each chapter will have listed content warnings.

Part Two is here

————————————————————————-

“Stay inside, away from the windows. Make sure the doors are locked.” It’s the same speech every year, the same frantic, worried rant about staying away from those types of parties and the trouble they could bring. Never mind that you’re an adult, have been for awhile, and are perfectly capable of making the decision on your own and had decided years ago that Calanmai wasn’t really your scene. A party in a library sure, but an outdoor orgy in what was basically the High Lord of Spring’s backyard was about as opposite of you as you could get.

“I’ll be in the attic, organizing my books,” you swear and your uncle’s graying head bobs with a heavy sigh of relief as he shuts the door. Some of the livestock have gone missing--most likely the result of several visiting fae whose scene definitely is Calanmai--but he couldn’t make complaints to the High Lord until he was sure they hadn’t simply wandered out of the padlock on their own. He’s taking all three of the farmhands with him, leaving you alone in the house.

It would be a blissful couple of days. The house quiet. You plan to make tea and practice the new bread recipe you’d found tucked into one of your carefully preserved books from two centuries before. You’ve accumulated quite a collection of things in the years of your uncle’s ceaseless wandering. He’s never stayed anywhere long.

If you could focus on it, that is.

Calanmai might have never been your scene, but it did something to you every year you couldn’t explain. It had started a couple years ago; a strange whispering on the wind at first, a voice begging you to “Come. Come and see.”  The next year, after being ignored the voice had come with phantom drum beats, an echo of the ones that would sometimes crest the hill between your farmhouse and the High Lord’s estate; the voice more urgent, the drum beats like a pulse in your skull. The following year the visions started. You’d go to sleep and find yourself drifting through the air, wings beating above you, shadowy hands holding you as you flew over the bonfires and beating drums, bodies writhing and merging beneath you, before depositing you in the darkness of what you could only describe as some sort of ancient cave. When you’d woken up you found yourself half way up the hill in your sleep clothes, unsure of how you’d even gotten out of the house. You’d never mentioned it to your uncle, he was prone to worry, but it was becoming clearer and clearer every year that there was something out there that wanted you out on Calanmai. True to form, you’d started hearing the drum beats upon waking this morning, their beat a steady pulse in your temples.

Still, whatever beckons, you're not interested in meeting. You’d seen a couple priestesses and gotten a sleeping tonic that would knock you out for the night, all you needed to do was pass the time until nightfall, take the tonic, and in the morning, all would be right again. Never mind the ache in your chest you’d feel in the morning, the blaring loss a living thing in your soul, as if your decision to stay away had torn something apart in you. It was a manageable wound, for your family’s sake. Memories of your parents had been hazy at best, it had always just been you and your mother’s brother. He’d said something had happened in your home court, that he’d had no other choice but to take you and run, never any other details. Your powers were a strange, unmanageable thing that prowled beneath your skin, a restless beast you couldn’t tie to any court to try and figure out where you’d come from. They weren’t seasonal, not ice or flame or wind; you’d imagined as a kid you’d gotten them in the Night Court, the darkness that sometimes sparked from your fingertips unruly enough to make it plausible, but there was nothing definitive. And your parents, for all the good things your uncle said about his sister, had never tried to find you, leaving all questions unanswered. Left you alone with your uncle and your constant moving with his job. He worked hard to make a life for the two of you, you owed it to him to not cause any trouble, to stay inside and cook and read and help him with his trading business as best you could. Whatever it was out there that beckoned, it was not worth seeing the pain on your uncle’s face. He’d escaped something, that much was clear, you would not damn him to something else, even for your own peace of mind.

This year feels different though, and you can’t deny it. The voice more urgent, the drum beats louder. You find yourself rubbing your temples, a headache building, as you try and fail to read the recipe in your hands. The words blur, a swirl of indistinguishable colors and shapes. You pinch you eyes closed, shake your head as if to clear the voice, trying again and again to make the words make sense, but the drums won’t stop beating.

You hurl the book across the room, knocking a picture off the wall, glass shattering on impact.

“Leave me alone!” You hiss at no one, teeth bared. Talons form at your fingertips, dark shadows whispering over your skin.

“Come. Come and see,” begs the voice.

You draw a breath, then another, and another until the shadows disappear and the talons retract. If you blow the roof off the house, like last time, you’ll have to move again. Beyond your uncle’s disappointment there’s the issue of… her. The war bands, the bogge, the Attor, always a threat looming over your travels, pushing you further and further away from busy cities, all enough on their own, but the Blight adds another layer. Your Uncle said the war she helped wage against the humans was devastating, but the one she could bring here? Sometimes you wonder if she’s the reason you move so much, as if your uncle has been trying in vain all these years to escape the war path closing in on Prythian. He’d never dare delve into the Human Lands, but Spring is one of the few places she has yet to ravish. You can’t risk another move.

You focus on controlling your breathing as you sweep up the glass, and leave the picture of you and your uncle on the table. You’ll find a new frame tomorrow, for today, it’s best if you take that sleeping tonic and avoid any further outbursts.

You make quick work of double checking the locks before changing into your sleep clothes and climbing into bed. It’s only just starting to get dark, the last few rays of sunlight fighting to break through your worn curtains. The priestesses didn’t mention how long it would take to work, or how long it would last, but the drums are still so loud, and the voice won’t stop pleading. It’s a nice voice, if your honest, but you can’t go out there. You won’t.

The vial in your hand is cold, the glass pitted like it’s been used before, it’s contents a bright blue color that glitters even in the darkness. You down it in one gulp, the taste like bursting, overripe fruit. The effects are immediate, you’re asleep before your head even hits the pillows.

  The house is strange, twisted; the wooden walls thorny, gnarled like old tree trunks, the wind howling through the gaps of what used to be the windows. Fire light flickers through the gaps, casting shadows across the space as you stumble from the bed, bare legs caught in sheets suddenly made of vines.

It’s wrong, all wrong.

You stumble on legs that don’t quite work right down the stairs, slashing yours hands open on the thorns that had sprouted out of the railing alongside dark, night blooming flowers.

“Come. Come and see.”

The flowers bloom at the sound of the voice, the violets petals glowing in the darkness, leading you like wisps out the front door, now covered in vines and leaves. Disoriented, you follow the flowers out into the night, the stars dazzlingly bright overhead.

The world outside is not the one you know, the rolling hills now scorched and burned, the trees gnarled and twisted. Dark shapes with glowing eyes sit on the dying branches, starring only at you, some growling, others hissing.

There’s a single line of flowers, twisting away from the leering eyes and you race after them.

“Come. Come and see.”

You’re running before you know it, scooping up flowers as you go.

Something behind you still growls, it’s footsteps rattling the ground behind you. No matter where you look, you can’t see it, like it’s wholly veiled in the darkness. It has your heart pounding in your chest, the beat steady like drums. You push yourself faster, following the flowers over the ruined hills.

The flowers lead you into another wooded area, the trees still barely clinging to life here, their fallen leaves crunching under your bare feet. Branches tug at your shift, tearing the thin materiel, clawing at your exposed legs. Still, the thing behind you prowls closer, it’s breath hot as flame as it chases you.

The flowers wind around trees, deeper, deeper, into the dark, the only light the stars and the flowers; it’s your only chance at escaping. You push, going as fast as your legs can carry you, the drum beats of your heart still echoing in your ears. Soon enough the flowers direct you in a straight line, directly into the mouth of a cave. It feels wrong, going into a cave with some sort of beast snapping on your heels but what other choice do you have?

You reach the mouth of the cave, hand brushing the rough rock, gasping for breath. The darkness beyond beckons, “Come. Come and see,” but there are no flowers here. No stars to light the way, only the darkness of night and shadows.

The thing beyond you roars in challenge as you set one foot in…

You jerk awake like your soul is coming back into your body.

Maybe it is, because you’re not in your bed. There’s half a dozen cuts across your bare legs, staining the bottom of your torn shift, mud splattered across your legs. It feels like you’re wading through soup as you assess yourself, your mind muddled, unable to process where you got the glowing, violet flower in your hands. When you finally have the presence of mind to look up, you are in fact starring at the cavernous mouth of a cave you’ve never seen before.

Somewhere in the distance, the drums pound. Firelight dances among the treeline behind you. You’d gotten outside. On Calanmai. The tonic not only failed, it had left you so horribly vulnerable and queasy you were shaking. You need to get back home, back inside where it’s safe.

From somewhere in the shadows of the trees not far from you, a voice says, “I’m pretty sure I saw her go this way!”

Ice shoots through your veins, feet freezing in place.

The flower seems to warm in your hands, as if reminding you it was there, of the dream that had brought you here. You glance at the cave, the darkness beckoning. It might be a safe place to hide, if those voices are in fact looking for you. They are clearly male, and a few of them at that, and alone in a shift on Calanmai…

The cave might be a terrible spot, you’re pretty sure you had heard something about High Lords and caves, specifically on Calanmai, but the drowsy effect of the tonic has not entirely worn off, and with the voice drawing closer you don’t have time to try and remember what it was.

You step into the darkness, praying it isn’t the worst mistake of your life, and the darkness envelopes you like a caress. It’s almost as if it… moves, shadows and night itself twining around your legs, your arms, brushing along your spine with feather light touches. As if darkness is acquainting itself with the feel of you. You shiver, nervous, but the touch is not unwelcome.

Voices sound outside, but they are muffled, veiled.

Another step, then another, the flower still clutched in your hand blooms, glowing a little brighter. The scent of jasmine and citrus flows from it, fills all your senses.

The cave descends, the ground sloping a bit, and then you have to duck to follow the worn path. There should be loose rock along the path, but it is smooth, like sand beneath your bare feet, like someone had come along and swept out the debris. There’s nothing there to hinder your progress towards what you can only assume is the heart of the cave.

Perhaps this is all a part of your strange dream, that would certainly explain the flower, but what other choice do you have no but to keep going? From behind you, those voices from the woods sound again, as if they have stepped into the cave too.

“You’re sure she came in here?”

“Where else would she go out here?”

“Do you think Mistress will let us have a little fun before she gets her hands on her?”

Its that that makes you freeze, all thought eddying from your head.

The flower shrinks in your hand, the light dimming, even as the darkness of the cave twines itself around you, the caress like a cat rubbing against your legs, as if it’s trying to soothe you, calm you. You can’t move.

The sudden shift in the air of the cave is palpable. Goosebumps raise on your arms as the temperature drops, as the darkness deepens.

“What the fuck?” One of the men hisses.

And then the screaming starts, the blood curdling cries rattling the walls.

Still you can’t move, can’t see, can only stand there in the company of the shadow still rubbing soothing circles into your back while the earth trembles and dust rains down from the cave roof.

Just as quickly as the screaming starts, it stops, the only sound know the subtle drip of something wet hitting the floor. Your senses are sharp enough for you to scent the cooper tint of blood in the air, but even your keen senses can’t pick up what caused it. You can’t hear anything either, no footsteps, no fighting. It’s over.

You exhale a shaky breath, hands still trembling around the flower. Until it suddenly dies, the petals falling from your cupped hands. You’re strangely attached to it now, hands scrambling to catch the petals in the dark when that same glow appears around the bend in the cave.

Another flower, a way out!

You step towards it, not stopping to ask yourself why this one is smaller, so far away from the ground. Its not until you’re nearly upon it, nearly slamming into it, that you realize it’s not a flower at all. It doesn’t truly click into place until a firm set of hands grabs hold of you, stopping you from slamming right into the owner of that glowing set of violet eyes.

You might have screamed, were it not for the voice that says, “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

The world tilts before you as it clicks into place that you know that voice. It’s the one that called you out here.

[withahappyrefrain]

Gin & Tonics (and Parking Spots)

Summary: In which Venus finally meets the infamous Dagger Squad. The fourth installment of the Parking Spots universe

Warnings: Language, Venus being Venus, Jake being lovesick, suggestive language, Venus has an actual name but it's only used twice

A sea of khaki that reeked of testosterone everywhere one turned. 

It was Venus' worst nightmare. 

She made her way past the crowd of people, avoiding the stares. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she stuck out like a sore thumb. A "civilian" is what Jake called it. 

Apparently "not a soldier" was too simple for the military. And "wasn't coerced by a recruiter to sell my soul to the US government" was too long. 

"If you get there before me or Javy, just sit by Penny. She's the owner. You'll like her a lot." 

Venus rolled her eyes at her fiancé, "I like anyone who can make a good drink, Jake." 

Jake smiled before pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, “Y’know what I mean. She’ll look out for you.”

“What can I get you my dear?” Venus looked up to find an older woman behind the bar. 

Her green eyes looked kind. She suddenly understood what Jake meant. 

“I’ll just take a gin and tonic,” She shrugged her shoulders, trying her best to appear indifferent, undeterred by the borderline lewd stares. When getting ready, she thought the yellow dress would be a great choice for meeting Jake’s friends. Not too formal, not too informal. It was flattering, but not too revealing. She even put thought into her hair, opting to style it in waves rather than the natural curls that Jake adored. 

“You wore that on our first date,” Jake said softly, a smile gracing his face. 

She lowered the hanger in surprise, “You remember that?”

“Of course,” he reached a hand out to cup one side of her sweet face, “How could I forget?”

She didn’t account for the fact she would be alone for a bit. No, she was far too busy freaking out about meeting her fiance’s friends for the first time. 

Fuck. 

“They’re gonna love you V.”

Perhaps if she had some experience of being in a serious relationship and meeting their friends, anxiety wouldn’t be coursing through her body. She had met a few friends of the person she was dating before, but it was usually at a party where after introductions, she was left alone to her own devices. 

The idea that someone would want to introduce her to other parts of their life, to become a part of them, was new. That they thought she was important enough to do so. Family? Sure. That was a given. But friends? The people you willingly chose to spend time with?

 A whole different ballpark. Though in this case, perhaps turmac was more fitting. 

“Since you’re new, I’m going to need to see your ID hun,” The woman, presumably Penny, said, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

"Of course," She held her head high as pulled her driver's license from her wallet, ignoring the stares, trying to play off her hands shaking. 

If they wanted her to move, they could fucking ask. 

The bartender, who had to be Penny, looked at the ID, a soft smile forming, “Well Danica, I can see why Jake calls you Venus.”

“You…. know who I am?” Great, there was already a preconceived idea of who she was. Before she even had a chance, her fate was sealed. 

What was she known as? The girl who yelled at Jake in a parking lot? The girl who threw bread rolls at him? 

Penny continued to smile, “Of course! Jake is always excited to show me the latest picture he’s taken of you. The flowers you two got from the farmer’s market are beautiful by the way.”

Heat rushed to her face while recalling last weekend’s adventures. Jake insisted on taking her picture by the flower stand. It was strange at first-still was-how his Instagram that had once been only thirst traps workout pictures were now full of her and their adventures together. 

As much fun as it was going through the older posts and giving him hell about it, she loved looking at the newer photos, the ones that showed their journey together. 

“He’s a good photographer, I’ll give him that,” A small smile began to form on Venus' face, her shoulders visibly relaxing. 

“Don’t give him too much. He needs to be kept on his toes,” Penny laughed in agreement, “I’m Penny by the way. So where is the man of the hour?"

Penny handed her a gin and tonic as she explained, "Had a last minute meeting with Simpson. He should be coming soon, as is the rest of the squad from my understanding." 

Penny raised an eyebrow, "So you finally get to meet them! They have been dying to meet you. Been asking Jake about it for months." 

The grip on her drink tightened. 

Jake had a reputation. And with that reputation, came preconceived notions of what kind of girl he would date. 

Venus was not what people thought of when it came to Jake's ideal type. While his family adored her, they all admitted they were surprised when Jake first called to tell them about the woman he met in a parking lot. Hell, even her family was surprised when she described him. They still adored him, loved him, and insisted on serving a traditionally prepared lechon at the engagement party.

But friends were a whole different breed. One willingly chose to spend time with them. Friends were honest, and more often than not, their opinion was highly valued. 

She had learned that the hard way. 

"I mean, she's nice but do you see it going anywhere? I don't." 

"She's really not your type, man." 

"She's kind of a bitch." 

A soft hand gently laid on top of hers, breaking Venus out of her thoughts. Was it motherly instinct or was her anxiety that plainly written across her face? 

She found Penny smiling, "They're so excited to meet you. They already adore you and ask about you constantly." 

They were looking forward to meeting you, she repeated in her head. That means they want to meet you. Adore is such a specific word, Penny wouldn't have said it if it wasn't true. 

She clung onto Penny's words. They were nuggets of truth, a shield against the negative thoughts that clouded her brain. The evidence that those shitty experiences were in the past, that the situation she was in now was entirely different, was better. 

Her therapist would be so proud. 

A more relaxed, genuine smile appeared on Venus’ face, the first one she could recall occurring since pulling into the parking lot of the Hard Deck. 

“I look forward to meeting everyone. I’ll take another gin and tonic when you get a chance!” 

“I got it covered Penny,” a smooth voice said. She turned around, half expecting (moreso hoping) to see Jake, despite the lack of Texan drawl. 

When she turned around, there was no tall blonde with sparkling emerald green eyes and a smile so white, she could see it from outer space. 

Instead, a Hawaiin shirt so ugly that no Dad at a BBQ would go near greeted her. 

Her lips formed a tight line, her eyes narrowing. It was the same look she wore when dealing with annoying patients or annoying men. 

“Welcome to the Hard Deck,” The man said with a wink. His eyes were nice, but the caterpillar that occupied the space between his nose and upper lip was what she noticed first. 

She recognized him immediately. Jake had given her plenty of information so she could recognize members of the dagger squad. 

Bold of him to assume she would just go up to them. But maybe she could have some fun with this. 

Penny gave her a look, one that silently asked Should I tell him? Venus just shook her head, turning back to face the infamous Bradley Bradshaw. 

“How do you know it’s my first time?” She asked coyly with a raised eyebrow before bringing the drink back to her lips. 

“With a face like that? I wouldn't be able to forget ya." Did he also get his pickup lines from the eighties, in addition to his shirts?

Bradlet leaned against the railing of the bar, bending slightly so they were at eye level, “So what brings you here? Besides fate.” 

Her eyes could not roll any harder. How many more lines would it take before he started singing Jerry Lewis? 

“Well, after hearing about it so much, I just had to see the mustache in person,” She responded, moving her drink to her left hand. 

If there had to be a sound that best represented Bradley’s face, it was a record scratch. The best he could respond with was a very confused “Excuse me?”

“I’ll give you credit, you pull off the look pretty well, despite it consisting of a pornstache and clothes from the part of the eighties that even Stranger Things won’t touch.”

“It’s not….it’s not a pornstache.”

A darked haired woman clad in a khaki uniform nearby snorted. 

Venus grinned, “It is absolutely a pornstache. But some people are into that. I don’t get it, but good for you Rooster.”

Bradley's eyes knitted together in confusion,“Do I…..do I know you?”

"I would hope you know of me. According to Javy, Jake talks about me a lot. Anyways, we should become best friends. Jake’s reaction will be hilarious.”

It was then Bradley finally looked down, seeing the huge emerald ring on her left hand.

And that's when it hit Bradley Bradshaw like a fucking train. 

"You're Venus?!" 

It was much louder than she would have liked, the statement causing several people to look at her with curious stares. 

Just play it cool, they all work for the military, you actually do important shit, she told herself over and over again. 

“In the flesh!" She flashed a smile before taking a huge sip of her drink, trying to ignore the fact that another pilot was now approaching her. 

She was going to need another drink to get through this. 

"You're Hangman's girl? The one who told him to fuck off when you first met him?"The dark haired woman asked, practically shoving Bradley out of the way. 

The infamous Venus shrugged, "I didn't exactly tell him to fuck off. I told him it made no sense why he could fly million-dollar jets but was a shit driver. Phoenix?" 

Natasha nodded, “Glad he’s no longer hiding you. I’ve been telling him to bring you around ever since he arrived late to a debriefing with hearts in his eyes as he talked about a woman who referred to him as Hangnail.” 

The comment brough relief. At least one person liked her, at least one person wanted to get to know her. 

Natasha grabbed her arm, “Come on. The rest of the gang is going to lose their minds when they learn you’re finally here.”

Through the throngs of pilots, Natasha led her to a table filled with other men who all looked vaguely familiar. The tight lipped smile remained on her face as she straightened her shoulders, ready to face the (multiple) men of the hour. 

“Hey guys, guess who I met?”

“V! You made it!” Before she could say anything, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, picking her up. 

“Javy, I swear to God if you don’t put me down-” She couldn’t help but laugh. Just like with Jake, Javy had become the older brother Venus never knew she wanted. 

Knowing Javy would be there was what made her feel comfortable enough to arrive without Jake. Winning over your fiancé's best friend was quite the confidence boost.

Maybe it was the fact he actually made an effort to get to know her. Maybe it was the fact he took all her digs about the Saints in stride. But with Jake, the three of them had become a trio and she didn't mind at all. 

"Hey guys! This is Danica! Aka Venus, aka the one who got Jake to settle down!"

"You really know how to build suspense Coyote," Nat deadpanned before taking a seat next to Bob. Javy lowered her down, her feet returning to the ground. 

"You're Venus? The one he proposed to after eight months of dating?" A man with shining brown eyes and energy that could best be described as a golden retriever asked. 

Her features softened as she looked down at her emerald ring,  "When you know, you know. I also take it you're Mickey?"

"Wow, I guess Hangman talks about us more than we thought," Mickey joked, earning the chuckles from others. 

She looked back up, that signature smirk having returned, "We're also having a long engagement, that was my compromise." 

"That's not what he said," Phoenix scoffed, recalling the different potential venues Jake had already shown her. 

She continued fidgeting with her engagement ring. It wasn’t a matter of Venus being unfamiliar to having all eyes on her. But with Jake's friends, it was different. Another layer of being official that she wasn’t used to. 

"Well, you deserve all the drinks for being able to put up with Bagman,” Mickey commented, as if he sensed her nerves.  

“Bagman?” she asked, a mischievous glint forming in her big eyes. 

"It's what we call him when we feel he hasn't earned being called his proper name, which I'm sure as you know, is most of the time," A man with glasses and a thin lopsided smile that was sweeter than sugar explained. 

Her eyes light up, "Oh, I am definitely using that. Also, are you Bob?" 

Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to the bespectacled WSO, “You’re so cute! I’m adopting you.” For added effect, she placed a hand on each of Bob’s cheeks. 

“Does that mean Bagman is my dad?" Bob asked with an almost grimace. 

"Yeah, but I'll make sure he chills out," She reassured him with a soft smile. 

“Wait, she’s actually nice?” Reuben whispered to Natasha and Bradley, “The way Jake describes her-”

“Look, if she can find redeemable qualities in Bagman of all people, she must have a lot going for her,” Natasha interjected. 

As time passed, Venus found herself more and more at ease with the group. Despite having heard so much, they still took the time to ask questions, to get to know her. They wouldn’t only talk about Jake (not that she wanted them to), and they actually tried to include her in the conversation, despite her lack of knowledge about their field. 

It was different. It was nice. 

Once drinks got low, Venus offered to go get the next round. Bradley followed her, still apologizing for the flirting earlier. 

She chuckled, “It’s totally fine. In fact, I think it’s hilarious that you and Bagman have a similar type,” Her eyes narrowed, “Which by the way, I know plenty of cute, spitfire nurses who are single.”

Bradley’s face turned bright red, “I’m uh-I don’t need any help with-”

“Look, I already plan to find Bob's future wife, might as well find yours while I’m at it. There are people out there who are into what you call a mustache,” She shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t get it, but I’m willing to find them for you.” 

It was the way she mixed sweetness with snark that confused Bradley, as well as everyone else. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bradley finally asked. 

“I’m not going to tell you his dick size,” A devious smirk adorned her face, causing her to resemble the image the squad had conjured in their minds when Jake first told them how the ‘future Mrs. Seresin’ referred to him as a knockoff Ken doll. 

“That’s not what-”

“But I will say-”

“Please don’t.”

“You could have named him Hungman and it still would have been accurate.”

“I really, really don’t need to hear this.” Bradley’s face was now bright red, whereas the woman next to him casually ordered the next round of beers and a lemon seltzer for Bob with a grin on her face. 

“You’re telling me the men in the navy don’t talk about their dick sizes? Least of all, the person whose call sign means cock?”

“It’s a bird-”

“That also means cock.”

Bradley stared at her, quite frankly afraid that if he said another word, he'd have to hear about Hangman’s dick. 

She stared right back, able to hold off the impromptu staring contest for a few moments before erupting into a fit of giggles.

When Jake first rambled on about the beautiful woman he had met at a coffee shop, who he insisted was his future wife, Bradley (and everyone else) thought the blonde pilot had lost his damn mind. 

But after seeing her truly smile, Bradley could understand why Jake became so smitten. 

“How….do you two work?” It was an honest question. Javy asked the same thing the first time he went out with you and Jake. She even wondered about it herself when they first got together. 

She shrugged, fingers fiddling with Jake’s class ring that was on a silver chain around her neck, “We just….do. He calms me down. I remind him sometimes it’s better to be quiet and just listen. We both make each other smile and laugh. It’s nice. More than nice. It’s wonderful.” 

Bradley noticed what she was fiddling with, "So that’s where it went.”

“He has a ring of mine that he wears with his dog tags. We traded before he went on deployment.” She shrugged again, as if to suggest it wasn’t a big deal. 

The soft smile on her face suggested the exact opposite. 

Bradley grinned, “Do you know he also wears one of your hair ties around his wrist?”

Her smile only continued to grow, "He says the more pieces he has of me on him, the luckier he is in the sky."  

Truthfully, Venus wasn't sure what to expect when she began dating Jake. Certainly not him being such a romantic. It was strange at first. Why would someone go through so much effort to bring flowers, to make dinner reservations, to plan dates when they already had you?

When Jake scoffed at the very idea of not needing to impress it was the first time she truly reflected on previous relationships and just how shitty they were. 

"Baby, they were awful," Jake pressed a chaste kiss to her shoulder, "You deserve so much more than what you've gotten." 

A hand on your shoulder broke you out of your thoughts. 

"I think I just saw that Jeep Wrangler you love so much just pulled up," Natasha teased. 

She rolled your eyes, despite a small smile remaining as you shook your head, "I hate that fucking car." 

"I'm glad someone else agr-"

"Bradshaw, don't get me started on your car choices." Her eyes narrowed as she shot him a look. 

Only she got to insult that hideous car. 

Bradley promptly closed his mouth, not wanting to face her infamous wrath. 

He was still reeling from the Pornstache comment. 

So instead, he simply helped her carry the round of drinks back to the rest of the squad. 

"So Venus, what does the woman who made Jake Seresin lovesick do?" Payback asked. 

"I'm a level three neonatal nurse at the local hospital," she explained, "Which is partly why it's been so hard to meet y'all. My schedule can be pretty irregular." 

The table was quiet as they processed this new piece of information. When they first heard about her, they couldn't help but imagine a cutthroat business woman, a manager, a consultant. 

Not a nurse. Particularly one who dealt with children. 

"So you um, you-" 

She set her glass down with force, "I do not play with babies and change diapers all day. My job is to keep premature babies alive and ensure they're able to go home with their family and live as healthy of a life as possible." 

Her voice was tense, no doubt due to past dismissive comments regarding her job. 

Bob shifted closer to her, "I think that's amazing. One of my sister's kids was born at 28 weeks and she still swears to this day that if it weren't for y'all, she would not have been able to keep it together." 

Her shoulders visibly relaxed as a smile formed on her face, "I like you Bob. I'm going to keep you." 

Mickey spoke up, "Hey, wait a second. My girlfriend Cielo and I have already put in a request to adopt Bob." 

She put an arm around Bob's shoulder, shaking her head, "Nah, I call dibs." 

"We knew him first!" If one didn’t see the gleam of playfulness that laced Mickey’s amber eyes, his tone would sound completely defensive. 

Bob finally spoke up, "Just a friendly reminder that I'm thirty one years old." 

She turned to the soft spoken WSO, "Which is why I am determined to find you your Missus." 

"Get in line, Cielo and I have been working on that." 

Natasha snorted, "We've all been working on that." 

Bob signed, putting a palm to his face. 

"Hey V, I think your man just walked in." Maybe it was fate, maybe the universe took pity on Bob. 

But when Venus looked up upon hearing Reuben's words, her heart skipped a beat. 

There he was. 

Jake was over at the bar, waiting for Penny to take notice of him. No doubt ordering gin and tonic, along with a basket of fries for Venus. He always made sure she had something to snack on. 

"Wanna see something?" She asked the gang. 

Without waiting, she put two fingers to her mouth, a loud whistle coming out. The noise caught the attention of several people, including a blonde man with eyes greener than the emerald that adorned her engagement ring. 

When Jake's eyes met hers, her heart skipped a beat. His eyes lit up, a smile overtaking his face. 

"Hi loverboy," she called out with a wave. Oh she tried to smirk, try to play it off as if she was indifferent to the sight of her fiancé. 

But Danica's eyes told a different story. 

"Venus!" Jake called out, getting even more attention. Not that he noticed. He was too busy practically shoving folks out of the way to get to the table. 

Maybe she picked up her pace to meet Jake. Maybe Jake knocked a drink over as his hands placed themselves underneath her thighs, allowing him to pick her up in one swoop. 

It’s not like either of them were paying attention. 

—-----------------------------------------

To say Jake Seresin was annoyed was an understatement.

His day had started out so well. He got to wake up not on base in a small, old twin bed, but instead in the arms of his fiancé. 

Then he had to go to work. 

Jake loved his job. He was damn good at it- one of the best, in fact. He enjoyed being at work, which was something many couldn't say. 

But not when his job caused him to be late, unable to be with the woman he loved, especially on a night where she needed him the most. 

Normally, she would have already met his friends before Jake proposed to her. But thanks to the nature of his job, which involved spur-of-the-moment missions, he had done things a bit backwards. 

If it weren't for the nature of his job, Venus could have met the squad back when she only had the title of girlfriend. 

Sure, she still would have put pressure on herself, as was in her nature. But decidedly less pressure. 

Jake wanted to be there for her, to reassure her that she was in fact, the most incredible person he had ever met and that his friends would see that immediately. To put a hand on her shoulder whenever he saw that smile begin to fade, self doubt creeping into her mind. 

Which was why he was all but running into the Hard Deck. His meeting with Cyclone lasted much longer than intended. Normally Jake wasn’t super concerned about showing up late to the Hard Deck, but today was the worst day it could happen. 

Deep in his heart, he knew she would be just fine. At worst, she wouldn’t approach the squad until Javy arrived and would stick by Penny. 

Jake just wanted her to feel comfortable, to feel at ease. He wanted to support her, like any decent husband would. 

So yeah, maybe he was taking advantage of his status, knowing that no one would say anything if he pushed past them without a single excuse me. Jake knew his great grandmother was rolling in her grave, but he hoped Mimi would understand all in due time. 

“Hey Penny, have you happened to see an absolute goddess with an affinity for gin and tonics?” Jake asked once he arrived at the front of the bar, ignoring the glares. 

Penny simply smiled, "I think your friends found her. She was also pretty low on her beverage last time I saw her." 

"Well, we can't have that. I'll take a Miller Light, along with a Gin and tonic with a basket of fries." Jake recalled that she had texted him around two that she was on her lunch break. He doubted she had much time, if any, to eat when she got home from work. 

Order fries first, then find the love of his life. 

If only the bar wasn't slammed. 

He was trying his best not to be impatient. It wasn't Penny's fault, the Hard Deck was always like this when a new class arrived to base. 

But damn was it frustrating. The minutes seemed to tick away. Jake looked around, unable to spot his fiancé amidst the sea of khaki. 

Until he heard that whistle. 

He looked around, Bradshaw finally moving his bigass head to reveal the person that made his heart soar. 

She was sitting with the rest of the gang, smiling. She looked at ease, as if she had always been a part of this crew. 

Jake knew this was possible, that she had it in herself to open up and connect, rather than sit at the bar and wait for him to come. 

But sometimes she forgets that she can. 

So when Jake doesn't need to remind her, he can't help but beam. 

"Hi loverboy!" His heart fluttered when she sent him a wink, along with her smirk that he fell in love with the first time he saw (it also made him hard but that's neither here nor there). 

So yes, he did gently push some people out of the way to get to the table. And he did knock a drink over when he went to pick her up. But in Jake's defense, he hadn't seen her since seven-thirty in the morning and it was only Bradley's drink. 

"Hi baby," He said as he pressed his lips to her cheek. 

She rolled her eyes, though the smile still remained on her face, "You act like you haven't seen me in forever."

"Because I haven't," Jake murmured against her skin, "It's been ten hours." 

"Ten hours?" She repeated, her tone teasing, "You're incorrigible." 

"I don't know what that means, but thanks V," He said before pressing his lips against hers.  

Before Jake, she wasn't used to PDA. It wasn't a matter of not desiring it, she did. But none of her past relationships were into it, so it wasn't something she pursued. 

And then she met Jake. Jake, who would just grab her hand without saying anything. Jake, whose natural inclination was to wrap his arms around her. Jake, who would make the effort to kiss her, even if he was just passing by to get a drink or to unload the dishwasher. 

She liked it. She couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face as his lips moved to her nose, then forehead. 

"Can you put me down? You're looking a little desperate GI Joe," She teased, quickly placing a chaste kiss on his jawline. 

"You like it," He whispered in her ear, gently setting her back down. 

"Debatable," She rolled her eyes, trying to fight back a smile as Jake pressed another kiss against her cheek. 

"Debatable?" He questioned, "The ring on your left hand says otherwise sweetheart." 

Venus looked down at the ring, "I guess." 

"You guess?" Jake hummed, his arms now wrapped around her waist, his chin resting on top of her head. 

The noise and chatter of the Hard Deck slipped away when she looked up, meeting his emerald eyes. She bit her lower lip, trying to hold back a lovesick smile. 

It was no use, as it came out anyway. 

"Oh my God they're adorable," Bradley whispered to Natasha, stunned. 

"What the hell is happening?" Natasha whispered back, equally as stunned. 

"I think they're…in love?" Mickey didn't sound too sure of himself, if at all. 

"Of course they are, is it not obvious?" Bob practically scoffed. 

"Careful," Natasha teased, elbowing Bob playfully, "Think she still wants to adopt you. Remember who your dad would be." 

—------

The rest of the night wasn't anything unusual, save for Natasha, Bradley, Mickey, and Bob asking Venus questions while Jake, Javy, and Reuben played a round of pool. 

"So he listens when you tell him to shut up? Like deadass?" Mickey asked. 

She raised an eyebrow, "He listens to me regardless of what I say." 

"I don't believe it," Bradley started, "We can barely get him to listen to us and-" 

"Hey Jake?" Venus called out, remaining in her seat. 

Jake looked up from the angling his pool cue, his eyes lightening up when they met hers, "What's up darling?" 

"Do you think Sammy and Jess deserved to win Love Island?" Bradley couldn't help but scoff at Venus' question, there was no way- 

"Jess did, because she had the best personality of that season and was actually likable. She would have won regardless of who she coupled up with," Jake explained as he briefly looked back to his aim, "Unfortunately she was stuck on Sammy, who did not deserve to win, dude's a fuckboy if I've ever seen one. Is your drink empty?" 

The squad wasn't sure what was more shocking, the fact Jake had been able to make a perfect shot without looking again, or how focused he was on another person's needs. 

Venus, oblivious to this confusion, raised her empty drink, "I am! Can you get me another gin and tonic please?" 

Jake immediately set his pool stick down, ignoring the confused cries of Javy and Reuben as he went to Venus to give her a kiss on the cheek and pick up her glass. 

"What did you just do?" Mickey asked as soon as Jake headed over to the bar. 

Venus shrugged, "I asked him for another drink. I got his last drink, it's only fair." 

"But he was in a middle of a game-" 

"The less you think about it, the less confused you'll be," Javy explained, cutting off Reuben. 

Javy had long since learned that Jake's focus was now all things Venus. He was pretty sure once Venus became pregnant, she would be able to pry Jake away from a Texas football game. 

"How do you get him to listen to you?" Bradley asked, stunned. 

"I love her," Jake scoffed because wasn't it obvious? The only people who didn't seem confused by all this were Javy and Bob. 

Jake now understood why Venus wanted to adopt the bespectacled WSO. 

"So what are we? Chopped liver?" Natasha remarked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"He just loves y'all a little less," Venus teased, taking her drink from Jake's hands. 

Bradley scoffed, "Dude, I was your bunkmate." 

"Yeah but did you give him blowjobs frequently?" Venus asked, unaffected by the number of aviators who nearly choked on their drinks. Jake could feel the tops of cheek heat up. 

"Well, depended on-" Bradley started, much to the delightful shrieks of Natasha, Javy, and Reuben. 

"Alright, it's time for us to go pick a new song," Jake stated loudly, practically pushing his fiancé to the jukebox. 

"You're finishing that story later!" Venus called out, pointing to Bradley. 

"Only if you convince him not to play Free Rider!" Bradley called back.

Jake dragged away his fiancé, who was now laughing at the antics of his coworkers. 

He couldn't help but smile at the sight. She was beautiful like this; eyes squinting, cheeks round as she smiled, skin glowing,  not having a care in the world. 

Jake would do anything to keep that smile on her face. 

"I get to pick," She said, taking the quarter out of Jake's hand. 

"Why do you get to pick?" Jake teased before placing a kiss against her temple. 

"Because it's my first time here," she started, because wasn't it obvious? "Plus, I want Bradshaw to finish the story."

"You're really about to give Bradshaw what he wants?" Jake put his hand over his heart, "V, that's the most offensive thing you've said to me." 

Venus simply raised an eyebrow as she scoffed, "That's the most offensive thing I've said to you? Compared to all the other stuff? Compared to what I said when we first met?" 

"I thought it was charming," Jake was completely sincere, which Venus didn't know if she should find that cute or concerning. 

"I think you liked being called a Ken doll," she muttered, looking through the list of songs. 

Jake wrapped his arms around her waist, nestling his head on her shoulder, "I liked the woman who called me a Ken doll. So much so, I plan to marry her." 

Her teeth tugged her bottom lip, a tall-tale sign that she was flustered. She didn't blush, but Jake had learned the signs; she would bite her lip, her lashes would flutter. Her hand that wasn't pressing buttons on the jukebox drummed against the machine, looking for something to do. 

"I love you," he whispered. The declaration made her head turn, allowing Jake to steal a kiss. 

"Could have just asked."

"Where's the fun in that?" He pressed his lips against a heated cheek, leaving tiny kisses. 

Her eyes softened upon looking up at Jake, "How did the meeting go?" 

He squeezed the soft flesh of her hip, "Cyclone thinks I have a decent shot at the instructor position. And that I would be a good fit." 

The statement caused her eyes to light up. Jake could see that she was trying to hold herself back, trying not to get her hopes up. 

"So he'll write you a letter of recommendation?" 

He grinned, showing off his pristinely (and blindingly) white teeth, "Him and Mav." 

"We stan a short king." She said it half in jest, purely to see Jake's brows knit together in confusion, the five year age difference showing. 

"Is that a Tik Tok reference?" 

She stifled a giggle as she shook her head, "No. But you're getting there!" 

"You make me feel so old," Jake sighed. He thought he was doing so well, until Venus informed him that Instagram reels were just Tik Tok videos shown two weeks later. 

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, "So you think you have a shot at it? The position?" 

Before meeting her, Jake would have scoffed at the suggestion he wouldn't get something. He knows who he is, what he's capable of. 

But he doesn't want to let her down. To disappoint her. They both know what this position would entail; permanence. Not having to be deployed on missions. Not having to be away from her for months at a time. The ability to settle down with her. 

"I think so. Cyclone says I have the track record to prove I know the material and I now have the temperance to show I can teach it well." 

She grinned, "that's the most polite way to say you're no longer a cocky asshole." 

Jake wiggled his eyebrows, eliciting another soft giggle from her. 

"Are you sure you're okay with this? If you get the position?" She asked, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to hide her nerves. 

When Jake first brought up the idea of applying to the instructor position, she thought he was joking. Why would someone give up the chance to travel around the world, playing the role of a real life superhero? 

But then he kept bringing it up, announcing he was going to apply. When questioned, Jake said it was simple.

"Getting that job means I get to stay here, with you." 

That's what he said then and it's what he said now. 

"Besides," he added, "the chances of me becoming an ace are low. I'm more than happy to be the only one with two confirmed kills in my generation." 

Venus' eyes narrowed at him and without breaking eye contact, she pressed a button on the Jukebox. 

The notes of Queen's I Want to Break Free filled the Hard Deck, which was followed by the sounds of the squad clapping and thanking Venus. 

"Babe!" Jake nearly whined, putting his hand on his heart, "Really?!" 

"Oh please, you absolutely deserve that." Venus stated before walking towards the bar. 

Jake all but ran after her, grabbing her closest hand. 

"So is now a bad time to tell you that today I parked within the lines?" 

Venus stopped, her eyes slowly turning towards her fiancé, "Both lines?" 

Jake nodded, a proud, albeit cocky smirk adorning his face. 

She took a step forward, her face now inches apart from Jake's. 

"You know," her voice was low, "If you want me to fuck you, you can just ask." 

Jake visibly gulped, the smirk fading as heat rushed to his face, "I mean I, uh, I always want you to-" 

"Did you take a picture of it? Your parking job?" She rested her chin on Jake's head, wrapping her arms around his waist. To others, the gesture was very sweet. 

But Jake could see the desire in her eyes and it was making his knees weak. 

"It's um, how I parked outside of here-" 

"I want to see it. And then I want to go home and fuck you," with that, she was walking towards the door, her fingers hooking themselves around one of Jake's belt loops to ensure he followed. 

Not that he needed encouragement, he was already trailing right behind her. 

[luveline]

Hi Jade!! 💛💛 Omg obsessed with soulmate prince Steve au 🥰. Every au you write is perfection Can I request a scenario in which prince Steve actually witnesses someone say something to her about how she’s not good enough for the prince and how he’d react to that/ reassure her?

prince!steve au ♡ fem, 1.2k

Your palatial bedroom is a gem to the eye. You've a huge window from which gauzy orange light seeps, the golden hour of your twentieth day coming to an end. Soon, night will be upon you, and with the night comes Prince Steven. Or, as he prefers, Steve.  

He spends the days battling his overbearing mother and her team of 'professional shitheads' as the wedding fast approaches, advocating for you where you can't. You may be his soul mate, but your lack of royal blood means you've no choice in any of their plans. You hadn't been allowed to choose your dress, your vows, or even your jewellery. 

Well, originally. "It's your wedding," Steve had said, giving your hand a reassuring hold, "not just mine, and definitely not theirs. You'll be allowed to wear, and say, and do whatever you want. I'm lucky you agreed to marry me at all." 

You don't regret agreeing to marry him, but it wasn't what you pictured. He didn't propose, and you aren't in love. Your soul marks assure you that one day you will be. The volume of their light and how restless they become around the other evidences a mutual attraction if nothing else, and the rosy hue they take when you touch spares nothing. 

A mutual crush doesn't normally mean you'd marry someone, though. But it isn't exactly unheard of in your culture either. Soul mates are soul mates —it's on the tin. 

Why wait to get married when you know you'll fall in love for life? 

Maybe because that love is extremely daunting, a little voice says at the back of your head. Because Steve is still a stranger. 

An acquaintance might be more accurate. If he continues to be so dramatically nice you might skip friendship altogether, your stomach a heat at the memory of his hand on your chin and the subtle warmth of his gaze as he laid your doubts to rest. You worried to him that you couldn't be a Princess, and while he hadn't shared the sentiment, others do. 

You leave the haven of your room in hopes of a glass of juice and a tonic for your headache (all you've done for days is grind your teeth), and become turned around looking for the kitchens 

"She is so boringly normal. I thought the Prince would have a special soul mate, is that stupid? I thought she'd be gorgeous, or smart, or talented at something, like piano." The servant hits her racket against the rug with a laugh. "She's just one of us. Lucky bitch." 

Which isn't the worst of it. Not truly offensive. You're nothing special, and if you didn't know it already, finding your soulmate cemented it. 

This bit hurts, though. "She's surprisingly ugly, I thought," says the other servant. "Imagine when they project their engagement photos in the central city. That is not a face you want to see in sixteen k." 

Your head bumps into the alcove wall with surprise as a throat clears. The servants look up in tandem, to your horror, seeing you standing in the shade like a creeper, but they see straight past you. You follow their gaze. 

"That's not fair or appropriate, is it?" Steve asks, in his strange princely tone. "The future princess is just as beautiful as you ladies, but she has a much nicer attitude, yeah?" 

Steve puts his hand on your shoulder and walks you away. You feel like you're in trouble, being marched by the class warden to the principal's office.

He stops you in the cool stone walkway that leads from the garden. You can smell the kitchen you'd been looking for, the buttery smell of capers and brewing edelweiss tea on the breeze. The night dawns, sconces with teal and lime light painting his skin baby blue. 

"Sorry I didn't sanction them. I think that the anxiety that I'm gonna tell on them does more than the actual–" Steve stops short. "Hey, are you crying?" 

You're not crying, but you may be a little sniffly. You turn your head away from him and he pulls it right back, his lips parted in shock. 

"You don't believe them," he says incredulously.

The stress in your life these last few weeks has been akin to a tightrope walker, and the insults (the embarrassment, knowing he heard) are a strong wobble. 

"Sorry," you say, your lips barely parted. You try to look away from him but his hand is steadfast on your cheek. 

It's so odd to be treated with tenderness by someone you don't really know. His soul mark burns a muted pinky-red at the pulse of his wrist. It's genuine affection, even if you feel like you don't deserve it. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "Maybe I should go back and have them do domestic duties for the week."

"No, I'm being stupid. They don't have to think I'm pretty–" 

"Well, they should, but that's not really what happened… Why are you down here? I was looking for you." 

"You were?" you ask. 

"I usually am. I tried to get out of fencing but they wouldn't let me leave," he explains, his hand moving up your face in little grabs, almost as though he's checking you over for injury. Eyes held, Steve smiles at you encouragingly. "Why were you down here?" 

"To get something to drink," you say. 

"And you didn't want to ask one of the ten people waiting desperately for you to need something?" he asks with a laugh, dropping his hand from your face. The phantom of it remains, heat in the shape of his fingers pressed into your cheek.

"It feels weird." 

"You can call for me instead and I could get you a drink. Just until you know where the kitchen is. Or I can make you a map." 

"A map," you say, biting back a smile. 

"Is that funny?" 

"No…" 

Steve curls a hand behind your shoulder. "We're not gonna get along," he says, his tone suggesting wildly otherwise. "I can tell. Let's get you that drink, okay?" 

"Okay. Sorry for, um, getting all emotional on you." 

"'In good times and bad,'" he says. Your heart doesn't leap, it springs from your chest. He's a prince, and he's beautiful, and now he's throwing wedding vows at you like it's nothing? 

You smile at your shoes all the way to the kitchens, where Steve ushers you in front of him to go first, and says in your ear, "For the record, I'm personally super excited to see you on the holo screens, but I don't think it's gonna compare to the real thing." He directs you by the waist gently, a twin of the way he'd held you in your engagement photos. Deft hand nestled against the fat of your hip, blue silk of your ceremonial kissing your thighs. You'd felt really pretty, if only because he touched you without hesitation. "You are the farthest thing from ugly I've ever seen." 

[answer2jeff]

ready for another lie?

// carmen berzatto x reader

song: Diet Mountain Dew.

pairings: nyc chef!carmen x journalist!reader

mdni!! i'm not responsible for your media consumption.

warnings: smutty smut, VERY DETAILED, fem!reader, oral and fingering (f!recieving), porn with plot, drinking, cursing, kinda subby carmy, praise kink, alludes to piv but it doesn't happen, complete and utter filth, i'm giving the people what they want don't look at me!!!

essentially a prequel, 1 year before the start of season 1 of The Bear.

"Fuck youuuuu! It's Friday, loosen up!" A groggy voice yelled from across the bar, cursing you for declining another drink.

You watched your friends flirt with the bartender over the course of 2 rounds of shots; causing harmless fuckery with the several guys who tried flattering them. You were actually bored for once. It made you sick.

You waited for something, anything else to impress you. You tried convincing yourself you didn't have to leave, that your friends wanted you here, and that nights like these were "good for your soul," but there seemed to be no hope.

"Just two vodka tonics. Oh, and a white Negroni. Uh, yes— yes, thank you." You caught a blonde curl from the stool next to you in the corner of your peripheral vision, and you dared to turn your head. You were met by the sight of an oddly familiar guy—and then it hit you like a semi truck.

The man you wrote your final thesis on "the senses creating art," about. Food & Wines best new chef, as of late.

You'd spent an entire year and a half traveling the world (after finally making a name for yourself as a journalist, and snagging a place in Food & Wines top writers) and interviewing the faces of all forms of modern art, representing one of each of the 5 senses.

Casey French, a fragrance designer as the face of "smell." Christopher Knowles, a fashion designer who specialized in optical wear as the face of "sight."

The list went on, until it ended at Carmen Berzatto, on "taste," just 6 months ago. It was September now, and you almost forgot about the 2 and a half hours you took from your day to sit down and talk to him in that studio. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you felt the pores in your palms release a nervous sweat.

You blinked rapidly, wondering if you were really seeing him— out of all the other Friday nights, when he could've visited all the other bars. But he chose this Friday, at this bar, next to you. You needed to say something.

"I'll take a Negroni too, actually. And you can just close out my tab for tonight." You handed the bartender your card after you anxiously fished it out of your wallet, trying to seem completely oblivious to Carmen's stare. Carmen clenched his teeth, his eyebrows raised in surprise as he kept his gaze focused on you.

"Holy shit! Is that—" A slightly younger man nearly yelped while he inappropriately pointed at you, quickly being shut down by his peer, and being told to "shut the fuck up," but Carmen stayed silent. He was dumbfounded at the sight of you.

"Uh, hi. Funny seeing you here," you croaked, swallowing hard when you realized how much of a horrible excuse of a "hello," that was. Carmen didn't seem to mind, dragging his head out of the clouds and smiling back at you as he received his glass.

"Oh my god, yeah. Wow, I— it's good to see you."

Carmen glanced down at your drink, watching you trace your fingertip around the rim of the short glass. He gazed at your fresh manicure, the beautifully layered rings on your fingers, the diamonds on your wrists, the black dress with a slit that exposed your leg up to your mid-thigh. Carmen always thought you looked nice, only being used to your blazers and gorgeous vintage pants that he was a little jealous of, but this was different.

And as if you weren't already anxious enough, Carmen's "friends" immediately arose from their stools and made their way to an empty table, leaving the two of you alone again. Just looking at him and his clean suit and tie made you nervous, especially with the ink on his hands still visible.

"Good to see you too, Carmen," you smiled, cheeks aching as you tried desperately to hide your excitement. Admittedly, you admired him. That wasn't new. But that feeling in your stomach, that aching, yearning feeling was.

"I don't usually do these things," Carmen mumbled, taking a sip from his glass and licking his lips.

"Me neither. It's kinda— I don't know, icky."

You knew Carmen avoided big gatherings like this, but they were usually tolerable thanks to people who "knew him" enough to let him hang around their groups in silence while they practically screamed at each other. But his free time just never seemed to align with anyone else worth talking to... until tonight.

"Icky. Couldn't have worded it better," Carmen tried not to laugh at your expense, keeping his tongue between his teeth as both of you fought back a smile.

"You get it! God, anyway—how've you been?" You inched closer to him, resting your chin in your palm as your elbows were propped up on the counter. You made sure to keep your stare on him and only him, glancing from his nose, to his lips, and back into his eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was too late to stop now.

Carmen paused, his mouth gaping open slightly as he thought of what he could possibly say to convey that he could be doing better, without completely ruining the mood. He sucked his teeth as he took a deep breath, his eyes glued to the floor until he finally looked at you again.

"Alright, I guess. Managing. How're you?"

"Managing. But really though. Like, has anything changed?"

Carmen thought about your question, realizing how much he seemed to relax tonight—while simultaneously being the most nervous he'd ever been outside of work in the last year. Was it being out and public after a long week? Was it the fact that he still felt so stupid for not getting your actual number, and instead only having access to your business email which was provided by your agent? Was it the smell of your perfume? Was it just you?

"Uh... yeah. Yeah, I guess some things have changed."

He couldn't help but awe at the way you did your hair and your makeup that night, appreciating the tiny details your jewelry and purse of choice added to the look. He hardly ever thought twice about the attractive women he'd run into; making small talk and watching them get bored with his interests.

But now you were here; his fantasies, his desires were here, right next to him; wearing a dress that flattered your cleavage and cinched you at the waist, black heels that tapped against the footrest of the barstool. It made his head foggy, and he couldn't even wrap his head around the encounter.

After finishing your Negroni's over the course of 3 separate conversations that left you with a cramp in your side and your cheeks hurting from smiling—basically hitting it off like you were actual friends, you decided to pull the classic...

"You wanna get out of here?"

Two successful, somewhat well known adults in their lines of work were allowed to be human, right? They were allowed to share deep belly laughs with someone they didn't originally plan to see outside of a work setting, right?

Wrong. It was unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted: everything you promised you'd never be around him.

Carmen knew this.

But he was eye-fucking you in that goddamn interview. His tattooed hands rubbing against his thighs as he sat in front of you in the white light of that studio, his gentle voice contradicting his large, almost intimidating arms—it was all you could think about when you wrote your thesis. And now you were gonna be alone with him.

And despite his worries, despite the nervous sweat beading on his forehead, despite his growing anticipation when he admired your figure like a horny teenager, Carmen agreed. The smirk on your face and your manicured nails in between your pearly white teeth was convincing enough. He knew it was risky, given the fact that you still wrote for Food & Wine every couple of months: being more than capable of ruining his career with one wrong, but so right move.

"Yeah, actually."

Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.

Fuck it.

Carmen closed his tab, gently helping you down from the barstool by your hand. You held your purse close to you while waving a shy goodbye to your friends, who were drunkenly squealing in excitement for you. Carmen's peers seemed to be out of sight; therefore, out of mind. You felt your cheeks go hot, every part of your body tingling. Neither of you knew where you were going. Just not here, and not with everyone else.

He couldn't even think about the fact that he would be back in the glowing white light of the kitchen that following Monday, and you completely forgot about the paper you had to start by Sunday night. And it was way too late to care about any of that now.

You decided your apartment was best.

"Fuck.." Carmen grunted under his breath, his eyes hooded while he felt his pants tighten against his throbbing length. He spread his legs wider as you palmed him, trying to ease some of his tension. You hovered over him as he lied down, sprawled out on your leather couch. His hands were clawing at anything he could reach; your hair, your thighs, the straps of your dress until he pulled it down to your hips, and finally the clasp of your bra.

His bare chest heaved, red and covered in sweat. His dress shirt, tie, and jacket were somewhere in the mess of your apartment. He was honestly too desperate to care.

"You okay with me takin' this off?" Carmen whispered as he cupped your cheek, keeping his fingers prepared to unclip your bra with your permission. He admired every inch of your flushed face as he waited for answer.

"Mhm," you soothed him as your hand moved up and unbuttoned his pants the second your lips moved onto his. Saliva pooled in your mouths with every kiss, turning into a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth. Carmen struggled, but eventually tossed your bra onto the living room floor, his mouth just centimeters away from yours as he exhaled heavy breaths.

You sat up straight, pulling Carmen up by his shoulders and smashing your lips back into his. He pulled sway to breathe, taking it upon himself to peel the rest of your dress off. His tattooed hands gently caressed your plush thighs, his calloused fingers sliding under the hem of your lace underwear. He practically worshiped you like this, planting open mouthed kisses along your jawline and neck.

Carmen needed to hear you, feel you, taste you.

"I wanna taste you, if–if that's alright," he placed one last kiss of gratitude on collarbone before he looked up at you through lust-blown, half-lid eyes.

Your entire body began to heat up again, and Carmen's words went straight to your needy cunt. You could feel yourself dripping through your panties while you put a hand over your mouth in embarrassment, nodding frantically.

"Please," you begged, a mixture of a moan and a silent cry escaping. Carmen's hands detached from your thighs, your hips writhing up from the loss of contact. Without another word, he nodded his head, letting his hands travel down your hips as he got down on his knees in front of you.

Carmen took a shaky breath, glancing from your pleading eyes and back down to your bottom half. He hesitated, choosing to plant one more line of kisses from your tits down to your navel before giving you one last look for permission. He put his hand between your inner thighs, asking you to spread further. You blinked slowly while he peeled your panties off of you, wondering if he would notice how wet you already were.

Unprofessional, inappropriate, unwarranted.

Carmen licked his lips, admiring the sight of your puffy slit in hesitation. With your body sprawled out in front of him, your pretty face looking down at him...how could he not eat you out right on that leather couch?

"I've got you, baby," Carmen cooed, his eyes wide as he nearly drooled over the glossy puddle in your underwear. He gently placed your calves over his shoulders, his calloused hands scooping the underside of your thighs.

Carmens wet tongue licked a bold stripe from your hole up to your soaked clit, not a drop of your arousal going to waste. You grew impatient, the kitten licks he gave your sensitive bundle of nerves driving you mad.

"C'mon, Carmy, I—" You whined, pleading that he'd pick up the pace. Carmen decided not to hold back, giving your throbbing clit aggressive sucks that he'd later soothe with slow, flat-tongued licks.

You bit down on your hand while the other entangled in his hair to muffle the sinful noises you made. Carmen felt his stomach turn at the sound of his name falling from your gaping mouth.

Carmen took note of how much you loved his tongue diving into your weeping hole, earning whimpers and cries of "please," and "oh, fuck, Carmen." He groaned into your pussy when you caught a grip on his hair, placing his head even deeper between your thighs. He moved his hands from your thighs and up to your waist—forcing your jerky hips down on the couch. He wanted to make sure you didn't miss a single bit of pleasure.

"Can I.. uh, can I try something?" He stammered, picking his head up with his chin shiny with your liquids as his hand crept back down, prying between your folds. Carmen needed to keep every part of him busy so he wouldn't have to focus on the aching bulge, already leaking precum in his boxers. He felt his thighs clench as he fucking whimpered beneath you.

"S–sure.." You nodded frantically again, tossing your head back as Carmen carefully inserted a digit into your core. You whimpered in slight discomfort as he stretched you out, which he immediately reassured softly.

"Shhh... you're alright. Jus–just relax f'me, yeah?"

Carmen waited until you whined again; his fingers started at an agonizingly slow pace until he heard your moans getting a little too quiet for his liking. He picked his pace up, sliding another thick finger into your hole and ramming into your g-spot. He hesitated, afraid to hurt you—but you quickly dismissed his worries when you urged him that you needed more. Carmen aligned his tongue back with your pussy, sucking hard before comforting your desire with lapping at your clit.

"Oh my god, Carmen," you felt that familiar knot in your stomach, your grip in his hair tightening while your moans grew louder and louder. You didn't care if your neighbors could hear you through the thin walls of your apartment. You didn't even think about what this would look like the morning after—because none of it mattered. Not with Carmen's head between your thighs.

Carmen could tell you were close, prioritizing your pleasure before he could even register how badly he wanted to cum into his boxers. He couldn't help but buck his hips forward, begging for friction while every noise you made just inched him closer to his release... but he needed this to last.

"You close? Let me take care 'f you," he mumbled, breathing heavily against your pussy while he tried his best to stay still. It sent shockwaves through your body, and you tried desperately not to scream his name.

"So... so close.. Fuck, it's too much," your useless protest was cut short by a loud moan, muffled by the sweaty palm of your hand. Your heart pounded in your head as your walls clenched around Carmen's fingers. You weren't used to anything feeling this good in months.

"C'mon baby, you can handle it. You're alright. You're doing so good. Takin' my fingers so fuckin' good," Carmen's raspy voice comforted you. His tongue finally came back to relieve you, his fingers slowing down so as to not overstimulate you, as much as he wanted to.

"Carmy!" Your eyes screwed shut as your thighs shook. You chased your high, practically grinding into his face as his nose bumped your clit while his fingers remained at work.

—

"Jesus..." You panted, grunting in disappointment when you felt Carmen slide his fingers out of you. He licked them clean while your eyes were screwed shut as you tried to recollect yourself. Carmen planted a kiss on your temple the second he sat back up onto the couch, pulling you into his lap by your waist. You felt his erection against your crotch, his already sticky mess combining with your wetness yet again.

"You okay?" Carmen cupped your cheek, pushing any sweaty strands of hair out of your face. And just when he thought he couldn't have felt more proud of you, he melted into the feeling of your lips against his.

You didn't know if you'd ever see him again, you didn't know if this night would magically become niche hot gossip within your respective groups; all you knew was that you wanted him. His lust blown eyes on you, his hands gripping your waist as he bent you over your kitchen counter and fucked you dumb, the sound of sex echoing through your apartment.

Maybe some other Friday night.

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Malort

Danny, being from Illinois(probably) introduces a staple of Chicago bars to various heroes in the DC universe

Malort, for you unfortunate souls who have never had it, is delicious

Okay, it's actually extremely bitter and most people don't like it. It has a vague grapefruit rind flavor up front but it's main flavoring agent is wormwood. It kind of lingers and dries out your mouth a bit. People, myself included, actually enjoy this, but it's very bitter. People who don't like it really really hate it

hence why it's hilarious to give someone a shot of it

So Danny pulls this with the Justice league

Batman? Takes it like a champ

Flash? Hates it and runs at super speed to spit it out and pretends he didn't to spare Danny's feelings

Wonder Woman? I think she'd probably like it? Like, historically all sorts of herbal liquors were used as medicine and consumed as health tonics. I would not be surprised if it reminded her of some Amazon concoction. Or she would hate it similar to hao Japanese people tend to dislike root beer since it reminds them of a medicine they took as children

Constantine? Free booze is booze and he's enough of a bastard that even if he didn't like it he wouldn't give the satisfaction of reacting to it

Green Lantern, any of them, would not like it but to stubborn to admit as much and would take another shot of it

Superman, would not like and would give Danny the most satisfying reaction. Double the suffering because he can taste it but it can't get him drunk

Martian Manhunter, he'd dig it