#like her whole body of work yeah but that on in particular is why my lil children's week marshwalker 'legs' is just named machinima | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bellewintersroe · 8 months

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Lance Stroll x HornerDaughter! BFF Smut.

Ok this is loosely based of an audio linked by @2-fast-2-curious because she’s doing gods work out here with her F1 audio masterlist, I’m not sure if I should link the actual audio I don’t wanna steal anything, but anyway here’s some Lance smut so 18+. warning: explicit content, intoxication, funny drunken arguments, masturbation, unprotected sex, unexpected sex, creampie, oral, admission of feelings? probs not a warning but yolo. I LOVE writing as reader being Horner’s daughter it’s just fun ok. Reader and Lance are besties and have been for a while but they reunite and something clicks between them, anyway enjoy…

Partying it up in Monaco was probably the pinnacle of my life. Nothing could get better than being 22 and dancing on a yacht with all of your closest friends. Promiscuous Girl was blaring through the speakers as the yacht began its way back to dock in the harbour. It was a Saturday night and the expensive town of Monte Carlo was bustling. Vibrant nights exploded through the night sky and vibrations of all kinds of music spread through my body.

“Should you be up there?!” Lance asked, one of my closest friends as he stared up to me on the back of the drivers platform. “No.” I giggled, “c’mon, let’s get you down.” He held his hands out, helping me down off the side. “We’re going back to Jaspers, are you coming?” He questioned as I jumped, a little uneasy on my feet as the boat rocked slightly.

“We’re going back to Jaspers? And not a club?!” I almost burst out laughing, out of everywhere to choose from we were going back to a house party- equivalent to afters? “Yeah, I don’t know why.” Lance shook his head, watching me for a second before scanning around the boat. When he turned away I stole a glimpse before mimicking his action of watching all our friend. The good majority of us had known each other for a good 10+ years, now we were all back in Monaco to celebrate nothing particular, it felt like a school reunion. “Aren’t you glad to be back with everyone?” I then nudged the Canadian who I’d known since being a child. “Yeah, it’s kinda weird. Everything feels normal again.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean…” I faintly muttered, gazing into the distance. “You’re so corny, you know!” I then teased, jabbing his side. “Hey, you asked!” He playfully knocked me back as we engaged in a gentle scuffle. “You’re the one person I hoped wasn’t coming to this party!” He joked as I gasped, “and you’re the one person I want to push overboard!” With a gentle shove back, Lance giggled cheekily, holding my arms still.

“Get your dirty hands off me. I don’t know where they’ve been.” I teased, firmly crossing my arms across my chest. “You don’t even wanna know, miss Horner.”

“You’re right, I don’t… I’m gonna go get a drink before we dock, you coming?” “Sure…”

Soon enough we docked, and the main bulk of us went to Jasper’s house. I mainly lingered around my closest girls, piling into the bathroom, sitting in the bathtub, having deep conversations in the tub one minute and then dancing the next. It was just like how it felt when we were all 16. I’d always eagerly tried to recreate my teenage years, missing the freedom and carefree attitude I always had, so the whole nice was like a free cure for any of my problems. At one point, Jasper and Kiran, butted heads. They were way too drunk, and you just know when their shirts off and their ego’s were inflated, there’d be trouble. “Nah bro, you’re still the same as school.” Jasper waved him off, Kiran frowning, squint growing as he got progressively more angry. Kiran and Jasper went to the same international school in the south of France, they always fought. They’d fight over girls, alcohol, cars, money, and when there was nothing to fight over they’d fight over nothing.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The Italian responded as a few of us gathered, waiting for the entertainment to start. “You’re still a prick mate, you act like a fucking 16 year old.” “Oh, here we go…” Somebody muttered from besides me, I glanced up to see Lance and a smile grew. “What are they fighting over now?”

“Erm, something to do with shoes and alcohol bottles, I don’t even know.” I waved it off. “Nice.” Lance, along with about six more of us stood and watched the argument progress until the men were almost head butting one another.

“Maybe I should stop this now…” Lance comically sighed. “Or maybe I should wait for it to get physical.” Within seconds it got physical. “Oh shit.” Lance flew forwards and others attempted to break up the fight. It was comical, drunken fights always were so dramatic, it made me laugh. I stood there and laughed out loud, I must’ve looked so unhelpful but when masculine men got all fragile and crazy it was funny. The fight caused the party to end, probably at the right time, many people were staying there, but with my family’s house nearby, I thought it would be best just to head back. “Oh you’re leaving?!” My friend Molly exclaimed.

“I’m going to bed.” I yawned, my sobriety taking over and exhausting me. “What? You’re not staying over here?!” She exclaimed. “I was gonna go to my bed.” I was then met with a chorus of complaints pleading me to stay as it would be ‘just like old times’. What I didn’t expect was to be stuffed on a sheet on the floor in a room where the air-con was blasting me to death. I was in my underwear and one of Jasper’s shirts, trying to bunch up as much blanket as possible but Naomi, who I slept besides, rolled over and took them all. After an hour or so the sleep wouldn’t come, so I excused myself (silently) and just stood in the hallway shuddering slightly. I suppose it wasn’t too late to go home, it was nearing 4:30AM and sleep would be non existent, unless I found somebody who actually had a bed to themselves. I turned lightly seeing the door to Lance’s room on the bottom floor open, swiftly I patted down the stairs with a quiet giggle knowing I could bug him enough to sleep in the bed. We used to share all the time when we were younger, so to me it wasn’t such a big deal.

Creeping in, I nudged open the door to see Lance’s face lit up with the reflection of his face. “Hey..” he whispered, a smile growing as he dropped his phone to one side. “Can I come in?” I asked.

“Yeah, sure. Shut the door behind you.” He pushed himself up a little to reveal he was shirtless. Again, no big deal, right? I giggled, closing the door behind me as he patted the bed besides him. “Couldn’t sleep?” He questioned. “No, I was on the floor and Naomi was hogging the covers.” I tucked my legs up under me on the bed, facing him directly. “Unlucky. You cold? Come get under.” The Canadian hushed, budging up as I felt the relief of slipping under the blankets, warm from where he’d been laying.

“Why’re you awake?” I then questioned pulling them all the way up over my shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep. Hey, this is like old times again isn’t it?” He nudged softly, the warm of his arm brushing against the cool of mine with a hiss. “You’re so cold, c’mere.” He wrapped his arm around me, sinking down into the sheets as we borderline cuddled. “Now it’s like old times.” I pointed out as he giggled again. “Oh yeah? We used to do this a lot, didn’t we?” Expect now it felt different. Lance and I were no longer awkward and frigid 16 year olds, he had muscles, I had boobs, there was extra parts pushing against extra parts and it made me feel… different.

“I know, back when we were both frigid.” I whispered knocking into his chest which my arm laid across. Lance let out a laugh a little too loud in return. “We both were weren’t we..” He then sighed as I let out a giggle before a comfortable silence took over us. “This bed is so much comfier.” I muttered, staring into the darkness of the bedroom. Truthfully, there was something a lot more intimate about sharing a bed with Lance all these years later. “You’re a lot comfier than you used to be.” I nuzzled up, my chest pressing up against his side. “Me? Really, why?” “Muscles.” I squeezed at his bicep playfully as he swatted me away when the action must’ve been ticklish. “Yeah well, you’ve got tits now, didn’t you used to be like a waterboard?!” He fired back playfully as I choked out a gasp, attempting to push at him but his hands grasped mine.

“I had small ones, thank you very much!” Lance laughed at my response. “Oh, what the fuck.” He quickly spoke, arm falling back around me and resting softly on my upper back. “What?” I giggled, pushing up. Our faces were super close and for the first time in forever I felt something spark up inside of me. Lance’s smile softened as his eyes roamed over my face before down to my chest.

“Who’s shirt is that?” “My boyfriends.” I lied as Lance shifted quickly. “I’m kidding. It’s Jaspers!” My eyes widened. “Oh.” There was an evident relief on his face and in that moment I felt my knee knock against his leg. “I had no shirt to sleep in, but it’s kinda… uncomfortable.” The shirt was scratchy, it was drowning me and I most definitely couldn’t sleep in it. “Why don’t you take it off?” Lance glanced up and down to my propped up state. His words were quick and I could see the slight worry that twitched in his eye after he answered. “Take it off? Now?” My breath was hitched as the two of us stared back to each other.

“Yeah…” Lance didn’t break eye contact as my lips stretched out into a grin at his seriousness. “What? Shut the fuck up, I’m being serious.” He joked as I smirked down, fiddling with the hem of it.

“But I’m not wearing anything under…” “Oh you’re not?” Lance seemed on edge, eyes constantly dropping down. The peaks of my nipples were pressed up against the fabric and if he looked close I swore he could see the outline of my piercings.

“No…” I whispered gently as his free hand slid forwards, fiddling with the end of my shirt. It seemed to happen in an instant that my top was off and my breasts were exposed. I giggled, covering them slightly as I laid back, Lance propped to the side of me. “Don’t go all shy!” He chuckled. “I’m not, I’m not.” I pushed them together slightly, feeling Lances eyes fixated on them. I knew I was getting turned on, I wondered if he felt the same? There was an undeniable tension between us and I was shocked that we’d actually crossed the barrier of being ‘just friends’. “You’ve got really good tits.” His voice lowered, as I scanned over his body. “Your turn.” Except the only thing he was wearing was his underwear. With a smile, Lance pushed his hands under the hem of his Calvin Kleins, freeing himself but he was hidden under the duvet. “What’re we doing right now?” He quickly laughed to himself as I giggled, arching my back slightly. “Is this weird?” He then muttered, hand disappearing under the covers. “I don’t know, is it?”

“No… what’d you- uh, want me to do?” Lance quietly asked, almost shyly. “I don’t want you to do anything.” I teased, giggling as I glanced down. “You just said take them off!” By the looks of it they were already half off. “I know!” “Fuck it… now I’m fully naked and you’re not!” He pointed out. “You want me to take my underwear off?” My heart was beating rapidly as I laid against the pillow, gazing up to him. His hand brushed against my naked waist, resulting in me swallowing harshly.

“Yeah, I want you to..” his voice was so gentle I barely heard it. I looked down, my hands sliding under the band of my thongs feeling his hand meeting mine and pushing them off, exposing me completely. I felt the blood rush to my core as I squeezed my legs together, looking back up to him with a smile.

“What do you wanna do now?” I lightly asked. “I dunno- you wanna kiss me?” To this I burst out laughing. “Fine! We won’t kiss!” He chuckled, placing a hand on my stomach.

“Wouldn’t that make it weird?” I dumbly asked, becoming lost at the sensation of his large hand sprawled across my stomach and hip bone. “What and this wouldn’t?” He muttered, fingers grazing over my skin as I inhaled deeply.

“No.” I swallowed, glancing down to where Lance’s hand had slipped off me and onto himself. “What’re you having a wank or something?” I teased. “No, I’m just… I’m fucking hard.” He admitted as I felt a blush rise on my face.

“Why?”

“Why? Cos you’re naked and fucking hot as fuck right now.” He spoke as I smiled, “you wanna touch yourself?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Lance borderline whined as I felt his movements begin under the covers. I bit down on my finger, giggling deviously as butterflies erupted in my lower stomach. I didn’t think I’d been this turned on in a long long time- and it was over one of my lifelong friends? I always knew Lance was hot, but not this hot.

“Touch yourself as well, it’s only fair.” He panted out a laugh as my fingers slipped down. The minute I made contact with my clit I felt relief, applying pressure to my throbbing pussy. “Fuck.” Lance uttered, mesmerised as his eyes wandered over me, his jaw slightly hung slack as he jittered as his hand moved a little quicker.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this…” I snickered, hearing him hum out a laugh. “Can I touch you?” He then questioned, making me slightly nervous. “Yeah.” God, I wanted him to, the room felt red hot with tension. Lance’s hand slid over my tits, giving them a squeeze slightly before moving down to my pussy. He didn’t waste anytime, I was getting wetter by the second, and when his fingers touched me I let out a soft gasp at the sensation. My best friend was touching me so intimately, the more I watched him, the more shocked I was, it felt fucking great, the adrenaline was pumping inside of me and I felt desperate for Lance. I was trying to keep quiet, and also keep my composure, but Lance was too fucking good at this. “I need to taste you, fuck.” He shifted, sliding to the end of the bed as I covered my mouth with my arm, choking out a moan.

Lance was like a fucking god as he ate me out. His mouth was so warm against my pussy and he physically moaned as he licked and sucked over my clit. “Fuck- I can’t believe you’re so good at this.”

“Yeah… you wanna return the favour?” He teased. “Yeah.” I seriously whined. “Yeah?” He kissed my upper pubic bone as I lifted my head, nodding with a gentle breath. Lance switched our positions around, scraping my hair back gently as I smiled, shyly moving forwards.

“Is this weird?” I asked, his cock literally in my hand. “No.” He seemed tense. “Just go slow or I might bust too quick.”

“Really?” I slowly tugged on his member, teasing over the smooth skin as he let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, don’t laugh.” He nudged my shoulder as I giggled, moving down and wrapping my lips around his cock. Hearing Lance moan as I pleasured him with my mouth was something I never expected. It felt so dirty and raunchy, it turned me on even more. The way his arms trembled as he gripped the bed sheets, sliding his fingers through my hair, or when he pleaded for me to slow down.

“Fuck, don’t cum!” I laughed, swiping my thumb against the corner of my mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that, oh my god…” he sounded so turned on, his voice was low and sultry, pulling me by the arms on top of him. “I wanna fuck you, can I fuck you?” He was wide eyes, scanning over my own.

“Yeah.” I was breathless, reaching for his cock as I eased it inside myself, the two of us letting out a sigh in pleasure. It had been so long since anybody had fucked me, and the fact it was Lance made everything feel 10x better.

“Oh my god.” I moaned as I bounced ontop of him. “Oh fuck, baby, bounce on my cock, like that.”

“Lance.” I whined in response as he hummed, holding onto either side of my hips. “You feel so good.” His head tipped back with a moan as I lifted my hips, bouncing on my knees on top of his cock.

“So do you.” I panted, the sound of our skin slapping and the bed creaking filling the room. We continued like that for a few more minutes, Lance pulled me down, our faces inches apart as he fucked into me. “Fuck, I’ve needed this so bad.” He groaned, his hips slapping into mine as I let out an open mouthed moan, his hand sliding up the back of my head.

“Kiss me, fuck y/n, kiss me.” Lance begged as I pressed my lips against his firmly. It felt so good, the kiss was so heated and desperate, it spurred the sex on further.

“Fuck, my legs.” I groaned, “lazy.” Lance teased as I scoffed. “Shut up or I’ll stop.” He smirked, flipping us around as the bed creaked under out movements. There was movement outside the other room, footsteps drawing closer and moving past the room as Lance and I stared back to each other in amusement. “Sh, sh, sh.” He hushed, looking towards the door. I giggled, bucking my hips up playfully.

“They’re going to the bathroom.” He whispered, turning down and laughing, purposefully pinning his hips up against mine to the bed. The movements started again, slowly. I could hear whoever was in the toilet flushing the toilet and the run of the tap, until we heard the bedroom door close again it was a mission to stay quiet. “Fuck me properly now, fuck me.” I pleaded with Lance, wrapping my arms over his shoulder as he spread my legs wider, beginning to thrust into me once again. Our quiet moans filled the room, his cock pushed up deep inside of me as his balls slapped against my skin.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, oh my god.” He laughed as I giggled, pulling him in for another kiss. “I wanted you for so long.” He admitted as I let out another moan, muffling it with another kiss. “Fuck me, fuck me.” The sex continued, in doggy, spooning, back in missionary, it felt like we were at it for ages.

“Can you cum like this?” Lance questioned, voice on edge as he held me close. “Not like this.” I admitted, he didn’t hesitate to move down and pleasure me with his mouth again.

It didn’t take long before he was pushing me over the edge, giving me the first ever orgasm from oral ever. I felt like I was in bliss, and after a few more thrusts inside of me, Lance was jerking himself over my stomach and tits, spilling his cum with a bitten back groan.

“Fuck, fuck.” The Canadian man tossed his head back, falling forwards on top of me, kissing me deeply as I hummed against his lips, scraping my hand through his messy hair. “You were so fucking good.” I cooed as he let out a husky hum, continuing to keep his lips against mine.

“So were you. Fuck, I’ve been in love with you for so long…” his words startled me, a warmth spreading through me as I gasped out. “Have you?” He pushed up on top of me, lingering there as he nodded shyly.

“I think- I think I love you too…”

#Lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #lance stroll x horner daughter #Lance stroll smut #Lance stroll x reader smut

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sohnric · 7 months

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sweet like candy – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: summer au, strangers to something more ?? fluff, suggestive. very much stargazing by the neighbourgood and fantasize by the boyz capsuled into a fic. eric is a simp and a hopeless romantic because i said so. a girl romanticizes sharing a lollipop (its me im girl)

warnings: alcohol, maybe some minimal swearing, a heated make out session that hints onto a hookup (no smut mentioned!). the use of a cheesy nickname babydoll (dont @ me or i will deactivate), reader has hair long enough for a claw clip

word count: 6.9k

a/n: almost cried while trying to name this fic somebody send help. Also this doesn't feel like my best work its kinda rushed imo but 🤠 yolo

part of the @deoboyznet summer on you event! cant believe i made it on time

a summer tradition of renting out a cabin every year invented by a couple of friends takes a turn for eric when a new addition to the circle brings him to his knees - in other words, he never knew tequila could taste so sweet.

If anyone ever asked Eric Sohn if he believed in love at first sight, he would, without a doubt, say yes.

What was the proof he had? Well, absolutely nothing. All he ever knew about love at first sight was from romance movies he watched during lonely nights with his roommate Juyeon, never having the experience of the whole world stopping and zooming in on one particular person, taking his breath away– but to put it simply, Eric Sohn is a true romantic. Call him cheesy if you want– he wouldn’t like it, but he also wouldn’t disagree.

On one summer afternoon, though, his world tilts in its axis– the moment comes, and he is finally able to test out his theory.

You walk out of the passenger’s side of a red 2008 Toyota Auris, hair put up into a claw clip, jean shorts showing off your long legs and a pearl white button-up opened and lazily thrown over your outfit, and suddenly, Eric Sohn finds his knees buckling and his palms sweating with affection. He was aware that Juyeon’s girlfriend was bringing her best friend to tag along to their little summer retreat (more like a trip to a cabin in the middle of the woods), but he sure as hell didn’t expect the stranger to make him feel this type of way.

Sure, it might just be him being incredibly attracted to you. But with how fast his heart was beating when you smiled at everyone after introducing yourself to the group, he was sure he was slowly, but surely falling for you. And he was falling hard.

He feels like the world is moving in slow motion as he watches the group go and unload the car– you and your best friend Yeri were the last ones to arrive– and what wakes him up from the haze is when he watches you struggle to carry a cooler out of the trunk into the cabin, his legs dragging him closer to the vehicle and near to your body.

Now is his time to shine. “Let me help!” he hurries out, sneakers crunching on the gravel. His hands firmly grab onto the handle of the blue cooler, muscles flexing under the weight (making him wonder why you would willingly want to carry the thing and not ask him or any of the guys for help in the first place), and when your eyes look up at come in contact with his, he presses a smile to his lips. “I’m Eric, by the way.”

“Ah,” you gasp, a grateful expression breezing over your features, “thanks. I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Eric hums, watching your every move. Your figure walks over to the front of the car, your head popping in close to the window to look inside, and when a satisfied look overtakes your features, Eric finds himself asking. “Is that everything?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “we can head inside, I think.”

The boy tries hard to keep his cool, he really does. But with how he’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy, attempting to find a topic that would engage him in a conversation with you, he feels like a boy that is just experiencing a crush for the first time in his life. Everything about you is enchanting– and sure, you could say he was just painfully attracted to you and this had nothing to do with love– but he was also convinced that if you asked him to jump off the Empire State Building, he would do it without giving it a second thought (which is kind of worrying, but again– it says a lot).

You open the door to the cabin for him, and he finds himself speechless at the action. Once your eyes meet again and you offer him another subtle smile, he finds himself gasping at the sentence that comes out of your mouth.

“Hey! We’re matching, kinda,” you note, pointing towards his outfit.

And you’re right– Eric didn’t even notice at first, too enchanted with your sheer existence– but you two were indeed wearing the same thing. Jean shorts, and a white button-up– in your case, thrown over a white tank top, in Eric’s, closed (although he did leave it a bit open at the top, revealing his tanned skin). Suddenly, the boy is glad he’s wearing a red cap to cover up his hair, since he foolishly thinks the hat provides him enough shade in the face to not reveal his burning cheeks as he utters out a weak response.

“It looks so much better on you, though.”

With that, he walks into the cabin– escaping the situation, not really paying a single thought to chivalry and letting you go through the door first– and as he reaches the crowd of people in the kitchen, he prays for all high sources to find him, get to him and wipe his brain clean of all thoughts, because

even though you are basically matching (and he does think you look so much better in the outfit than he does), all he can think about is just how much more he’d like your outfit if the white button-up enveloping your body was the one he’s wearing right now instead.

The next time Eric finds courage to talk to you is when it seems like you’re not finding it to talk to anyone else yourself– the big group is currently sitting around a fire, marshmallows and sausages slowly burning in the blazing flames– and while everyone around was either talking to each other or singing along to the songs Jacob was playing on the guitar, you were sitting alone in the middle of two commotions: Chanhee and Changmin arguing about something seemingly important, and Yeri and Juyeon making out right in front of everyone’s eyes.

And Eric was supposed to listen to Sunwoo talk about his latest heartbreak– how the man still gets no girls despite having such an objectively handsome face, Eric truly doesn’t know– but the topic of the conversation was too boring for him to engage with it. That, and he was also painfully aware of your every move– you didn’t even move much– and word– you weren’t talking to anybody– and that was slowly driving him insane.

You looked a little out of place. Eric supposes it was because you didn’t really know anyone here– except from your best friend and her awfully sappy boyfriend– but even though it was logical and a little expected for you to be a bit excluded in such a foreign circle, the man took it as his mission to make you feel as welcome and as included as he physically could.

Completely ignoring Sunwoo’s blabbering (like he was doing for the last few minutes anyway), Eric confidently (and a bit shakily– hands sweating and breath hitching in his throat) walks to the other side of the bonfire, from where he’s been watching your stone expression through the flames, and sits down in the small place between you and Changmin. Changmin wasn’t even facing you, too engrossed in the debate he was having with Chanhee, and so it was Eric’s job to wobble his bottom into the place, efficiently making the older boy move away with a light elbow jab sent into his lower back.

“Hi,” he clears his throat, “are you having fun?” he asks, but mentally curses at himself right as the question escapes his mouth– does she look like she's having fun? Of course she doesn't, you stupid idiot.

You smile at the question, though, nodding. “Yeah,” you hum, “having lots of fun listening to your friends argue and my friends making out next to my ear.”

“You seemed like it too, y’know,” Eric laughs, “they’re always like this, by the way. They’ll forget about the fight in the morning.”

“Oh, that could never be me,” you sigh, shaking your head at the sentiment.

“No?”

“No,” you shrug, “I get too petty. If we have a fight, I’m not speaking to you for at least two weeks.”

Eric finds himself laughing at your comment. “I’ll remember that for future reference.”

Straightening your back and looking at your companion– as if you were going to call him out on his subtle hint of there being any future meeting between the two of you– you suddenly gasp and swiftly turn towards the bonfire, an honest mourn escaping your lips.

“Oh fuck!” you curse under your breath as your hand reaches towards a stick that’s had its end in the flame, the device efficiently resting against a rock in a position where you didn’t have to pay any attention to the snack you were cooking– more like burning– for yourself. With a quick move for the stick, you pull the tip of it out of the scorching red of the bonfire and look at it in an examining way, as if the result would be different and the marshmallow would unburn itself if you stared at it long enough. “I completely forgot about this!”

Eric takes a glance at the burnt piece of fluff, letting out a laugh at the black marshmallow in front of your face. “That’s not how you make a good s’more,” he notes, poking fun at your annoyed face.

“Oh, no shit, Sherlock…” you mutter under your breath, but your face looks a bit sad to see the piece go to waste. “I don’t know why I even tried, I’m bad at this stuff.”

There comes his moment, Eric thinks. “Well, you’re lucky, ‘cause you just met an expert at making s’mores.”

“Does a thing like that even exist?” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at the male in disbelief.

“Of course it does! You’re looking at one now,” he grins, leaning over you to take a brand new marshmallow out of the bag to your right– sandwiched between your thigh and the couple in love– before he reaches over to your hand and takes the roasting stick out of your hand, slides the white fluffy cloud through the sharp tip and hovers it above the flame.

“The key is to hold it above the flame, and not in the flame,” Eric chuckles as he looks at you from the corner of his eye, watching your expression change.

“Oh, but I thought the key is to burn the thing,” you ironically gasp, shaking your head at his teasing. “Where did you even learn all of this?”

“I grew up in the States,” Eric hums, “they would deport me if I didn’t know how to make s’mores.”

The comment gets a giggle out of you– a sound Eric almost folds at and falls into the open fire (thankfully, he held his composure– he doesn’t think 3rd degree burns would suit his look) – and it takes everything in him to not scream like a teenage girl at the thought of making you laugh. Yes, that’s how down bad you managed to get the male.

“Do you have a special recipe?”

“Just the basic one,” he shrugs, turning the skewer in his hand to make the marshmallow equally glazed on each side, “I will make it extra good for you, though.”

“I thought a master always does their best?” you tease, watching as the boy crumbles under your gaze.

“Not always. I don’t like to put effort into things that aren’t worth it,” Eric hums as he takes the marshmallow out of the burning fire, examining it, and after deeming it worthy, taking the skewer and holding it up in between his knees. The male takes a graham cracker and tears it in half, before adding chocolate to one of the sides. After he’s done, he carefully places the golden fluff ball onto the cracker and closes it, offering the sweet sandwich to you with a subtle smile.

“For you,” he winks as he turns back towards the fire, putting another marshmallow onto the stick to make himself a s’more as well (and also mentally kicking himself at the sudden burst of courage). He hears you take a bite out of the snack, his knee bouncing up and down nervously as he awaits the verdict.

“Man,” you hum, “this is so good.”

“Told you,” he says, “if there’s something I’m confident in, it’s making s’mores.”

“That’s a very unuseful skill to have,” you note, but continue to eat. The comment has him chuckle and shrug.

“Well, I used it now, so I’d argue it’s actually very useful.”

A hum cuts out of your throat at this, finishing the s’more he made for you with a satisfied sigh. “Is this how you got girls back in the States?” you ask, making the male choke on his spit.

Eric was too young to get girls when he learned how to make the greatest s’mores. He went camping with his dad and his older sister and he burned a couple before he got it right. He was in middle school and before what the kids call a glow-up these days (back in the days, you just called it overcoming puberty), but still– he decides to test the waters with another lazy, half-assed flirty comment. “Only the pretty ones.”

He hears a chuckle out of you– a reaction he decides to not pay much attention to or overthink, for he doesn’t really remember what a good reaction to flirting is anymore– but then, you sigh and nod. “Well, I give your s’more a 5 star review, so I’d find that believable.”

The comment has Eric press his tongue into the inside of his cheek, battling a victorious smile that wants to oh so desperately appear on his lips. Turning his attention fully to you, he looks at you with confidence coating his insides– it only grows when he notices you staring at the side of his face, the flame of the fire twinkling in your eye and making your features sharper and twice as attractive to the poor boy.

His eyes scan you over for a few seconds before he notices a glimmer of something on the side of your lip– a chocolate stain that has him cautiously lean in and swipe a thumb over the sweetness, not even thinking twice before smoothing his finger over your skin.

“You had a little… something there,” he hums as he licks the chocolate off his thumb. Your eyes still trained on him force him to avert his gaze back to the fire– for it was unbearable, as if sparks were flying and burning his skin, everything about the interaction making goosebumps appear over his body; even though he felt hot in his cheeks and not at all cold– when the sight of his marshmallow in flames suddenly comes to him, startling him awake.

Hurriedly dragging out the burnt snack out of the fire, he hears you chuckle at him from the side– so much for not ruining the moment. (It’s okay, though. As long as you’re entertained.)

“I thought you were a master at s’mores,” you poke fun at him, “got distracted?”

Meeting eyes with you, Eric shrugs, a lazy grin settling to his lips. “I guess you could say that.”

The night progresses quickly– with Sunwoo getting so drunk he borrows Jacob’s guitar and clumsily strums the strings, freestyle rapping about the most random topics with flushed cheeks and eyes dramatically glued to the fire; Hyunjae wanting to have a competition of who can jump over the flames and Sangyeon having to stop his drunk friend with the force of his own body– and Eric finds his eyes lacking the candy he’s been occupying himself with the whole evening. You disappeared somewhere into the house a few minutes ago, and although he didn’t want to be clingy, he walked up to the cabin with a nervous pep in his step– that’s it, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Eric walks through the doorway, having his body immediately be met with the joined common room slash kitchen area. The cabin is kind of small (too small for the amount of people currently occupying it) and kind of old, but it’s a tradition to rent it every year during the summer, so no one ever questioned the decision or made the move to rent out a bigger one, no matter the growing friend group.

Your figure finally appears in the dimly lit kitchen area, your back turned to the doorway. Standing at the kitchen sink, it seems like you were doing the dishes– tons of plates used to carry grilled meat and sausages dumped carelessly into the sink, forgotten in a minute and leaving the last remains of food dry up on them and get hard to scrape off, a couple of glasses and mugs with their ears broken off from their age waiting with coffee stains at the bottom– and Eric immediately feels his heart fall down to his stomach, because why would one do the dishes in the middle of the night? Those usually get left there until the morning, when the least hungover person will take mercy on the rest and take care of them. Were you feeling excluded from the conversation? Did you feel bored?

“What are you doing here so alone?” he asks, making you turn your head over your shoulder and smile at him– a stone falling off his heart at the action– before you shrug at him.

“Washing the dishes,” you say, as if it wasn’t clear already.

“I see that,” Eric chuckles, “what I meant to say was, why are you washing the dishes in the first place?”

“Well, somebody’s gotta do it.”

Eric huffs– and he doesn’t even know why he’s so defensive about it. “That someone didn’t have to be you, y’know.”

He’s standing next to you now– your eyes meeting as you stare at the boy for a heartbeat– a smile spreading on your face at his furrowed brows. The action has him visibly relax, watching as you shrug and get back to the dish washing. “I just wanted some alone time for a bit,” you muse, “outside was getting too loud for a second, I’m not used to crowds.”

“Ah… once Sunwoo drinks, he can’t shut up, so I kinda get that it was starting to feel insufferable,” Eric notes, nodding at you in acknowledgement before the realization hits him. “Wait– you said you wanted to be alone, so I should probably-”

You halt him with a soft laugh– the one Eric finds his heart liking a little too much, with how it jumps up and down and makes all of him feel warm inside– a soapy hand reaching out in his direction. “It’s okay, you can stay,” you muse, “I enjoy your company.”

“O-okay,” Eric stutters– so much for the smooth lines he had prepared in his head before coming in here, all of them flying out of his head straight out of the window– and to not seem so silly, he gets his hands occupied and reaches for the clean dishes you started stacking on the counter next to the sink, deciding to dry them and put them away. The kitchen falls into a comfortable silence that only gets broken by an occasional scream landing through the walls from outside, and Eric can’t help but indulge himself in the domesticity of the act.

He can almost imagine you two washing the dishes like this in your shared apartment after you two cook dinner together and eat it in your cozy living room. That scenario sounds almost too good for the boy, having warmth slowly ooze into his cheeks, and that, he finds to be the hint that he should probably stop thinking about you in that way now or else he’ll get too distracted and break the glasses he is currently putting away. (God forbid– there were not enough of them for the entire friend group in the first place.)

“Are you having a good time, though?” Eric finds himself asking through his weird delirium.

You smile– oh god you smile, you should stop doing that if you want him to survive the night– and nod at the boy, calmness overtaking your aura and slipping into his cracks as well. “I am. It’s nice meeting new people and everyone’s very nice,” you say.

“That’s good to hear. How long have you and Yeri been friends?”

“A couple of years,” you note, “we met during high school. We always dreamt of moving away to college and living together at dorms or something, so it’s… it’s nice that it worked out for us,” you say, having Eric nod at your words with a sweet smile.

“That’s great to hear,” he muses, “I met Juyeon and Sunwoo in my freshman year of college, and the rest just… came along after a while.”

“Your friend group is pretty big,” you point out, having the boy shrug.

“I guess so,” Eric mumbles, never really thinking of it this way– in his eyes, this was normal. This was how he operated, how he lived. A lot of people around him, always close– one would think such a large friend group wouldn’t be as close with each other, but it’s quite the opposite in his case, he thinks. Maybe he was just blessed.

“How do you do that?” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I dunno,” he snickers, “guess you could say I’m quite the social butterfly.”

“I can see that,” you laugh. Eric watches you, his hands now empty of any dish– he’s been drying them quicker than you manage to clean (and rightfully so, the food is stuck on there) – he starts noticing the details of your sheer presence. How you have a slight smile playing with your lips even when your eyes are glued to the sink, how your hair slightly slips out of the claw clip and frames your face, how close you’re standing– his eyes slip towards your hands, noticing the water running down your forearms and dangerously close to the sleeves of your shirt.

Acting on reflex, mostly, the boy reaches towards your sleeves and gently tugs them up, the contact of your skin that he initiates and should realistically be prepared for making the tips of his fingers tingle, the action having you stop in your movements and glance up at him through your eyelashes– a sight he wishes he could engrave into the back of his eyelids so he could stare at it forever and always.

“Thank you,” you hum, voice barely louder than a whisper when he retracts away from you, taking his previous stance against the kitchen counter.

Eric hangs his head low for a second, clearing his throat to ease his own tension. Now is your turn to start up the conversation, a casual question falling off your lips as you get back to washing the last remains of dishes. “Yeri said you come here often?”

The boy nods enthusiastically to your sentence. “We do. We started in freshman year, because Juyeon was going to this exchange program to Paris for a couple of months, so we threw him a goodbye party. Then he came back, so we threw a welcome back party here. And then we celebrated Younghoon hyung’s birthday here, and it kind of stuck, I guess? We go here at least once a year during summer.”

“That’s a nice tradition to have,” you sigh, turning the faucet off as you finish rinsing off the last dish– a big bowl that Sangyeon used to marinate the meat a few hours ago.

“It is,” Eric nods, smiling fondly at the sentiment. He reaches for the bowl and dries it with the now damp rag (there were a lot of dishes to dry, after all), and moves to put it back to its place under the sink. With your figure still in its previous spot, the boy puts away the towel onto the kitchen counter and gently grabs your waist with his free hand, moving you away a few inches to the left. He crouches and opens the cabinet under the sink and puts the bowl into the pyramid of other ones, straightening his back when he goes back into a standing position, catching you staring at him from above, watching his every move. Your body is leaning against the counter, having Eric mirror your stance only a few inches away from you before speaking up again.

“You’re welcome to join us when we come back next time.”

The time reads 3AM– or at least that’s what his circadian rhythm tells him, because he doesn't bother to check as he twists and turns in the bed, too hot and too alert to fall asleep– when Eric decides to walk down the steep stairs and try to get some fresh air. The cabin is hot inside, but he still takes his lost button-up that he had thrown over one of the kitchen chairs and puts it on before he makes his way outside, knowing that the forest will make his bones get cold with the crisp breeze.

He opens the door and moves to sit on the little patio– the silence of outside is overwhelming even after the cabin has quieted down and everyone has gone to sleep (each one on a different level of tipsy ranging from completely chill Sangyeon to doesn’t know where he is Sunwoo– with Eric somewhere in the middle of the spectrum). His legs drag a little tiredly as he scans his surroundings– god forbid there’s a bear out waiting for him– when the sight of a figure sitting on the floor takes him by surprise, their head already turned to him after hearing the sound of the door opening.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he walks over to you, noticing your frame dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, hinting that you at least tried to get some sleep before coming out here, just like he has.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrug, confirming his suspicions.

“Same here,” the man sighs, “mind if I sit with you?”

“You’re welcome to join me,” you smile at him, patting the floor next to you and watching as Eric crouches down before taking a seat on the wood, ignoring the sunbeds and old rattan chairs situated all over the patio. (If you’re on the floor, he’s on the floor– it’s as simple as that.)

You’re holding a lollipop in between your fingers, your other hand occupied with a half-empty bottle of tequila that was previously passed around the circle at the bonfire. Eric raises his brows at the sight, having you shamefully avert your gaze from him.

“I thought it would be a waste to not finish this,” you say, snickering, “and I also… kind of hoped that it would put me to sleep…”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?”

“I guess you could say that,” you laugh. Taking a sip from the bottle, you gulp the alcohol down before putting the lollipop inside of your mouth, sucking on it and licking your lips after. This is not the way you’re supposed to drink tequila, but Eric figures that gathering salt and a lime would be too much work anyways.

“Are you really using that lollipop as a chaser?” he giggles, making you hum.

“Yeah,” you stare at him, a grin overtaking your features, “this girl taught me to do that at a party last year. It’s not as good as literally anything else, but it gets the job done. Wanna try?” you ask, offering him the sweetness on the stick and the bottle.

The truth is, you were only a bit tipsy when the group slowly started to scatter into their beds. Eric didn’t drink as much either– only enough to make him laugh at everything that was said and make his staring at you twice as obvious as it was before– so he thinks he can take some more. As you said, it would be a shame if the bottle went to waste– and also, something about the idea of drinking with you alone on the patio was making his hopeless heart hammer against his chest in dangerous measures.

“Sure,” he agrees, taking the bottle first. The boy takes a sip, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat, and when he moves the dark brown glass away from his lips, he is met with the image of you leaning closer to him, offering him the lollipop. His hand instinctively grabs the plastic stick, thinking you’re letting go of it, when he’s met with the feeling of your flesh under his fingertips. You put the lollipop against his lips, making him open up on instinct and suck on the strawberry flavored candy, a million different sensations (all unrelated to the alcohol) swimming through his brain– you’re so close, you smell so good, he’s holding your hand, he’s sucking on the lollipop you previously had in between your lips and it’s driving him crazy– before you take the candy out from between his lips and put it back into your mouth, tongue swirling around the sweet ball.

The lollipop had an aftertaste of tequila on it, but it was enough to chase down the faint bitterness– Eric finds himself wanting to taste more of the sweet strawberry, but foolishly desiring to get the sensation off your lips instead. His eyes stay locked with yours throughout the whole exchange, sparks flying in between the two of you even though the bonfire has long gone out, his fingers lazily dropping from the candy.

“How was it?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper– goosebumps appearing all over Eric’s skin when he swears your eyes flicker to his lips for a split second.

“Good,” he admits. It’s silly how he feels so breathless at the action.

The sound of the wind playing with the leaves of the forest is the only thing accompanying you two. It’s as if you two were thinking of the same thing when you pull out the lollipop out of your mouth and offer it back to Eric, watching with utmost interest as the boy leans closer to capture it in between his lips, never breaking eye contact. The action feels a little too electrifying to him, a little too intimate, but he can't stop– can't even imagine wanting to.

Taking a sip of the tequila, but not chasing it down with the candy, you speak up again, lazy eyes practically glued to him. “This would be a perfect moment for a kiss…” you mumble, licking your bottom lip for a split second before biting down on it.

“Are you flirting with me?” Eric foolishly asks, tone of voice a bit weak, a little unsure, the candy still in his mouth, making his words come out a little jambled.

“Mhm,” you nod, grinning to yourself– Eric wonders how much of your behavior and how much of his raging heartbeat is due to the effect of alcohol in both of your veins.

His fingers pull at yours as he takes the candy out of his mouth, voice dropping as he answers you. “Then we probably shouldn’t waste the moment.”

Even though the intentions are clear, the boy can’t bring himself to make the first move– he’s completely enchanted with your presence, staring at you with tension in his shoulders and eyes trained onto your face, watching and examining it for any shift or change. Focused on the way you move, he thinks you must have realized you were going to have to be the one to take the first step– your lazily smile before you lean closer, impossibly close– making Eric’s eyes flutter shut with anticipation, your breath fanning his face making goosebumps appear all over his body.

When your lips finally touch his, he feels like he’s being kissed for the first time again, with the amount of fuzziness in his stomach and buzzing in his ears. He regains his composure quite quickly, though, as he positions his head in a way that makes you two even closer to each other, lips pressing firmer against yours now. His hand instinctively reaches out to hold your jaw, fingertips glazing the soft skin under them, your lips retracting only to go in for more.

Blindly placing the bottle onto the floor next to your bodies, you peck his lips and sigh into the kiss. “Damn, you’re good at this…”

“We’re only getting started,” he muses, making you chuckle.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he nods, watching as you once again lean in and suck on his upper lip, making his eyes flutter close again. A weight appears over him as you shift in your place and move to straddle his lap, your hand moving to cup his cheek and tilt him upwards, everything about the kisses getting more hurried– less gentle, less hesitant– when you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and grant your tongue entry into his mouth.

Sweetness mixes in between you, your hands moving around his neck, heavy breaths shared across the patio. Eric feels like he’s levitating, his body having an out of body experience, yet being awfully present– every little shift pushing him to overdrive, the slightest touch making his skin burn and heart drum against his ribcage.

You shift in his lap, making him huff under the pressure, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck. Teeth glazing the jointure of your shoulder, kitten licking the place and sucking in a bruise that will eventually be visible to everyone when you two wake up in the morning, Eric feels your hands tugging down the sleeves of his shirt, fingers feeling up his biceps. The action makes him chuckle into your neck, but the smile fades quickly as he feels your nails scratching gently at his flaming skin.

“Take this off,” you mutter, and Eric finds it endearing– helping you take him out of the button-up, sitting under you in just a white tank top and black basketball shorts.

“Why?”

“Your arms looked good in this,” you hiss before you hide your face into his neck, leaning down to give him your fair share of kisses and love bites, having the male teasingly joke as his hands run up under your tank top, painfully aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra anymore.

He moves his head to the side to give you more access before speaking out, tone of voice husky and coated in lust. “What if I get cold now?”

“Then I’m more than happy to move this to your room,” you purr into his ear.

Eric sighs, fingers playing with the hem of your top before he lets his palms drift towards your exposed stomach, roaming across naked skin. Goosebumps appear all over your body at the action, making the boy victoriously grin. “It looks like you’re the one that's cold, though, babydoll.”

Rolling your eyes at the male, you shut him up by latching yourself onto his lips before you speak against his mouth. “I’ll take that as an invitation, then?”

“Wake up Eric! The girls are leaving, you should at least go say goodbye!” Sangyeon roars into the boy's room, making the male turn over in the bed and huff out in frustration. He drags his arm up to shield his eyes from the sunlight hitting his face, the intention of just rolling over and sleeping more written very clearly in his face.

“Come on man, we’re leaving in an hour too, so you should go send them off and then pack your shit so we can load the cars,” Sangyeon says when he gets no reaction from the youngest. It’s to no use, apparently, and so as the oldest and most observant out of the group, Sangyeon decides to use physical force– he knows Eric would hate to have you go without saying goodbye. He’s not stupid. Or blind.

A strong hold on his calves drags Eric out of the bed and makes his half-naked body fall to the floor, a yelp coming out of his throat finally making Eric’s body fully alert and awake.

“Yo! What the fuck–”

“Put a shirt on and go say goodbye to Y/N before she goes, would you, sleeping beauty?” Sangyeon huffs before rolling his eyes at his younger friend, escaping the room and shutting the door close after himself with a loud thud (to add more effect to the scolding, Eric thinks).

The mention of your name has Eric quickly scrambling out of the bed. His heart hammers at the adrenaline rush, pulling a clean shirt out of his bag and dragging it over his head, the basketball shorts from yesterday’s night found on the floor being pulled over his lower frame in approximately 0.5 seconds. Eric takes the stairs 3 at a time– with how steep they are, he questions how exactly does he not trip and break his spine on his way down– and puts on a pair of slippers he finds at the door (that are not his, or his size, for the matter, making his heels comically stick out from the back).

Without checking his appearance in the mirror anywhere, he swings the door open and walks out of the cabin, watching as the group settles in a half-circle around your car, Yeri loading the trunk with her duffle bag before she closes it shut and smiles at her boyfriend Juyeon on the side. Eric joins the crowd, clearing his throat when his eyes fall onto your figure, the sight in front of him freezing him in his spot.

You’re standing there, in your jean shorts from the day before, an oversized white button-up enveloping your frame. A clueless stranger might not tell the difference, but he does– you put the shirt onto your bare skin and buttoned it just enough to reveal a bit of your cleavage– and it’s so similar to the outfit you had on yesterday, just with one difference.

You’re wearing Eric’s shirt. You’re wearing his shirt and your neck is scattered with red and purple-ish bruises, and no, Eric wasn’t that drunk and he remembers everything, but the events of last night suddenly play out right in front of his eyes like a movie, still nailing him to his spot and wiping out all of his vocabulary.

The boy feels hot in his cheeks as he watches you and your best friend pay your goodbyes to the rest of the boys, the men pulling you into side-hugs and fist bumps, shared ‘It was nice meeting you’s and ‘You should come by next time too’s resonating through the place. Soon enough, you reach the end of the make-shift half circle and lock your eyes with Eric, a playful smile softly appearing on your face.

“It was nice meeting you, Eric,” you hum, “I had fun,” you note, shooting him a knowing look.

“Me too,” he nods, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn’t know where the confidence of last night went, but he suddenly feels unarmed and lost. What does one do now?

The sight of you in his shirt makes him feel like his biggest (wet) dream has come true– call him cheesy, but it also wakes up a sense of déja vu in him from the day before– you with sunlight in your eyes, hair messed up in a claw clip. He feels like he just fell in love at first sight again. Is that even possible?

It’s good you have a sense in you that makes you take the initiative and be in charge when you see him faltering. A giggle cuts out of your throat as you lean in and hug the boy around his neck, your lips dangerously close to his ear as you speak in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be heard by the men around you.

“I stole your shirt from you, by the way. You should text me if you want it back, so we can meet up, or something,” you mouth, lips gently glazing the sensitive skin of Eric’s ear, and god does he feel like he's going to suffocate from the lack of oxygen this causes in his lungs.

“You look amazing in my clothes, so I won’t ask for it back,” Eric hums, “but I’ll text you just in case you ever wanna bless my eyes with the sight again.”

“Deal. I’ll make Juyeon text me your number,” you say before you pull away from him, shooting him a wink that almost has his knees buckling like a school boy in love for the first time.

You walk backwards and wave at the group, sending Eric one last look before you join the passenger’s side and close the car door behind you, the sound of Yeri starting the engine resonating through the quiet forest. The men wave at you until the Toyota disappears out of sight, only scattering inside when it does to gather their things and load up their cars as well.

Eric is woken up from his trance by a teasing whistle coming out of Sunwoo’s mouth and a father-like slap to his back from Sangyeon.

He wonders if he’s truly being so obvious. (He's unaware of the fact that you two had very visible matching love bites on your necks. It doesn’t take much effort to put two and two together– don't tell him that, though.)

Still, Eric shrugs and goes inside with a different kind of pep to his step.

When he licks his lips, he swears he can still taste the strawberries.

#dbn: summer on you #deoboyznet #the boyz #eric sohn #tbz #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn fluff #eric sohn angst #eric sohn scenario #eric fluff #eric angst #sohn youngjae #tbz fic #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #the boyz x reader #the boyz fluff

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averyangrypossum · 2 months

Text

Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the

Flowerbroadcast AU!

Based on the two drawings I did of a fankid for the ship radiostatic.

The full-body one

And the one with both Vox and her

And now, I’m gonna tell you all about it and exactly who the fuck this little kid is.

Lotus is the daughter of Vox (as you can tell) and Alastor and is six years old. She was created shortly after Vox and Al broke up, oh yeah I should probably talk about their relationship status. Vox and Alastor, unlike in canon, weren’t only close friends but were dating at some point, mostly because Alastor wanted to manipulate Vox’s feelings to where he’d be more compilable but accidentally took it too far, and since Vox is a piss baby Alastor decided to entertain Vox for a while.

Was this relationship healthy?

NO!

Would Vox say these were the best years of his afterlife?

Yeah.

But anyways, in this au when Vox asks Alastor to “join his team” he was actually proposing and Alastor finally realized,

“Shit maybe this has gone out of hand” and breaks it off with Vox which leaves Vox heartbroken and with an incel breakdown. Now instead of trying to move the fuck on, he has our little darling Lotus, who he has trying to fill the hole that Alastor left.

So obviously having a child for that reason isn’t going to make you a good parent.

Lotus’ relationship with the Vees are as follows in the particular order.

1 Velvette: She does Lotus’s hair everyday and picks out outfits for her to post on her social media before Lotus immediately undos everything that Velvette does and just goes for pigtails and her nightgown. Velvette has wine aunt energy and is probably the only one of the Vees to know how to talk and get through to Lotus.

2 Valentino: Surprising I know, but Lotus doesn’t know what he does to his workers, she knows what he does for work but grew up with thinking that was just something normal since Valentino was never hush hush about his job around her much to Vox’s dismay. Valentino isn’t a big fan of children and doesn’t hang around her often, but sometimes he’ll draw along side her while bitching about a particular show she’s watching even though it’s literally made for kids.

3 Vox: Wow, how bad do you have to fuck up for a pimp who hardly spends time with her to be ranked higher than her own father?? Vox, despite making the conscious decision to have her, he isn’t around like at all. Hes a workaholic through and through, and mostly leaves her with nannies and Velvette. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love her. Au contraire he loves her with all his heart and soul. Will give her anything except quality time. He uses her more of an accessory than a child.

Now how exactly Lotus was made is up to you.

A robotic creation Vox made? Sure!

Some voodoo magic shit? Yeah!

Some weird magic thing where she kinda just poofed into existence? Why not!

Mpreg? I mean, do what you wanna do ig?

Cuz it really doesn’t matter!

This whole au starts with Lotus running away from the Vee tower to explore hell since she's basically Rapunzel. She gets lost and terrorized by sinners until our deer Alastor rescues her. Seeing his chance to promote the hotel he takes her there where she is offered to stay there by Charlie when Lotus complains about how bad her dad is. She graciously accepts because shes only six but is going through her “My dad hates me and I hate him” era. Which I mean…I would get that impression too if I didn’t see my dad that much.

Wait my dad lives across the country…don't talk to me rn I’m busy dyeing my hair black and becoming emo 🖤

But anyways she stays there while Vox is loosing his fucking mind, and becoming more mentally unstable.

Meanwhile! She's having the time of her life with the hotel's residents and a new father figure who treats her well and pays attention to her! Alastor! Now Al doesn’t know she is his kid, but that doesn't stop him from being a better dad than Vox out of spite!

Anyways, thats all I have, for now! Stay tuned my friends~

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aphrodites-law · 11 months

Text

Clarke wakes up eight years in the future, where her college best friend happens to be her girlfriend. Part 5/? (Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4)

It was such a beautiful day that Clarke almost felt bad they’d sit in a dark movie theater for two hours. Lexa seemed happy to just hold her hand as they walked down the street, chatting about one of the business projects she was working on.

Clarke knew questions about Lexa’s work were like flirting with danger. There was no way Other Clarke didn’t already know everything about her girlfriend's career, while she could barely hold the conversation. Parks and the environment had never made her feel so dumb. Luckily, Lexa didn’t seem to notice any gaps in her knowledge — or lack thereof.

If Clarke was still on edge about the whole situation, at least it would’ve been nice to have some advantages. Her memory being so selective was a thorn in her side. It was like she was forced to walk this future with horse-blinders on because she might break it irreparably otherwise. It was all so… careful, tailored, that Clarke was starting to reconsider her stance on dorky sci-fi. Maybe Raven had cobbled together some kind of monstrous time machine and then stored it in Lincoln’s basement.

“Do you want Milk Duds?”

Clarke tried to refocus. They’d arrived at the concession stand of the multiplex, where a teenager was shoveling popcorn in a paper bag. Clarke didn’t remember this theater in particular, but the buttery-sweet smell put her at ease. Lexa and her went to the movies whenever they could, treating themselves to sweets. It was familiar territory for once — there was nothing to worry about.

“No, you always hoard them,” Clarke replied mindlessly.

“Do not,” Lexa protested. “You just take forever to eat them.”

“You have to suck the chocolate first.”

“Here we go.”

“What kind of person just bites into them right away?!”

“I don’t know you and I don’t hear you.”

Clarke grinned, finding it so much easier to fall into their banter than more serious exchanges. When the teen set their popcorn on the counter, she reached for her purse to pay but heard a snort and the smooth swipe of Lexa’s credit card.

“Yeah, right,” Lexa said.

They made their way down the hall toward their screen.

“So I can’t pay for my own food at 30?” Clarke teased.

“Not the day of, grandma.”

“Wow, look who’s talking now.”

Lexa pinched her ass so fast that Clarke let out a startled gasp.

—

It was a coming of age story on the raunchy side, with loud scenes and moody visuals in nightclubs and college dorms. Clarke felt completely disconnected from the story, knowing she would forget it soon. The more obvious reason was that they were done with the popcorn and now Lexa had her hand on her bare thigh.

She wasn’t even… doing anything, but it was there, and Clarke didn’t care about any character or any damn plot point because her best friend’s fingers were touching her skin. She could admit that much.

The real mistake had been comparing how Lexa and her usually acted at the movies. Sitting next to each other, sharing food or candy, but never… touching with purpose. Inevitably, Clarke wondered how she would’ve reacted if her Lexa had ever attempted this. If she’d held her hand and made no move to let go. Clarke wanted to believe she would’ve been effortlessly cool about it, but her current state showed otherwise.

Breathing was a tall order and her hands felt clammy. There was no one behind them at least.

“Lexa…” she whispered, glancing at her.

Lexa had a small smile but seemed otherwise focused on the movie. Her hand inched up higher, beneath her dress, and then stilled again.

In the cover of darkness, Clarke realized her assumption she’d be safe from her own desires was a joke. The secluded but still public space made it worse – forbidden in the kind of way that made her ache. Now it made sense why Lexa had responded so positively to her movie suggestion.

From the way her body was reacting, Other Clarke clearly had a fantasy for this type of situation, and Clarke had tapped right into it. Which was unfair, because how could she know she enjoyed this before she even knew it!

“Fuck,” she cursed, her fingers digging into the armrest. With her free hand she reached for Lexa’s wrist, a weak attempt to stop her.

“Lexa,” she repeated quietly. “What are you doing?”

Lexa drew small circles on Clarke’s skin, like an apology. Only it wasn’t. “It’s okay, baby,” she murmured a few seconds later. “Sit back.”

There was… no way. Clarke couldn’t. She couldn’t. But her heart had started pounding and the heat in the pit of her stomach felt unbearable. She knew this feeling but never this intense. There was no scenario where she didn’t take care of this. And to Lexa, there was no scenario where she didn’t care of this.

Which was exactly why Clarke needed to choose her next words carefully: “Not here,” she pleaded, and then: “I’ll be too loud.”

It had the effect Clarke had hoped for. Lexa lost all semblance of control and looked at her, her mouth parted open and her expression unreadable. Yet in the dark room, Clarke could still see the change in her. Could feel how her hand’s soft touch turned into a possessive grip. Fingers pressing into flesh, then her thumb rubbing against the spot as if she worried she’d hurt her.

Lexa was quiet for a beat, then cleared her throat and gathered their belongings. “Come on.”

She’d entwined their hands without Clarke even realizing it, or maybe it was her who’d reached out first. Clarke wasn’t sure she could tell left from right anymore, or if she could even walk to wherever it was Lexa was taking her. They left the room discreetly, but the lights in the hall did nothing to snap Clarke out of her mounting desire.

It felt like the fight had been lost the moment she’d suggested they go slow. Slow had meant eventually, and with Lexa, eventually seemed to only take a few hours.

—

The restroom was miraculously empty for now, but the toilet stall Lexa had dragged her in was a tighter space than expected. Clarke felt a thrill.

Lexa pressed her against the door with little restraint, hand cupping her cheek as she kissed her deeply.

Clarke pulled back and looked into her eyes, knowing she didn’t want to stop her. It wasn’t just how her body reacted to Lexa’s hands or mouth. Wherever they were, from the comfort of their apartment to the cramped confines of this stall, she felt home. Home with Lexa. Attuned to her touch, her smell and her taste. The most mind-bending, confusing event of her life was happening, yet she felt safe. Tethered to this new life as if it was her own. Or could be, at least.

Lexa rubbed their noses together. “Breathe,” she whispered.

Clarke tangled her fingers in her hair. “I’m okay. Just wondering… why the toilet is the romantic setup I get.”

“What do you mean?” Lexa replied with a smirk. “You love traditions.”

“Tradi-”

Lexa kissed her again, her full lips like warm velvet against hers. She kissed her until it almost felt silly that was all they were doing, and really, Clarke was sick of fighting this. She reached for Lexa’s hands and brought them to her breasts, where Lexa needed no further instruction to palm them.

“Fuck, Clarke, I can’t do the whole slow thing anymore.”

“You can’t?” Clarke repeated pointlessly, too lost in the feeling of Lexa’s hands on her body.

“It’s your birthday,” Lexa said against her neck, inhaling when Clarke tilted her head to the side. “And I have so many presents to give.”

Her hands went down to her waist, her ass, and then pushed her dress up. She never looked away from her, smile growing as Clarke’s eyes darkened.

“Lexa…”

It was all she could find to say. Just the name of the woman in all her thoughts. She felt so needy; a need to connect with Lexa in all the ways they never did in her time. She pulled her close and kissed her, chasing her tongue. When Lexa moaned, she was reminded of what she’d told her earlier – how her kisses felt different. Clarke thought, good, let them be different. Let Lexa be surprised too. It was only fair.

Lexa’s hand was beneath lace in a matter of seconds, fingers finally pressing against her.

“Oh, god,” Clarke breathed out, knees buckling.

“I’ve got you,” Lexa promised, firmly holding her thigh up with her other hand.

When she entered her, Clarke’s body felt so overcome with pleasure she briefly worried she’d come on the spot.

“So wet,” Lexa husked in her ear. “I wish I could get on my knees. But not yet.”

Fuck. Clarke closed her eyes, thankful for the small mercy. She wouldn’t have been able to stop Lexa from licking into her if she wanted. Not even for a second. She could only focus on her fingers filling her, harder and faster with every moan that slipped out of her.

Lexa took her quickly, like she worried someone would rob them of this moment if she didn't. Or couldn't wait to see her fall apart. Her eyes never looked away and her skin had a slight shine under the harsh light. She’d never looked more confident; more beautiful. And Clarke felt attractive too, though… with her tits nearly out of her dress, her leg hooked around Lexa’s waist and her fingers buried deep inside her, she should’ve felt dirty. And well, she did, but not in a way where she’d later feel empty. Where she’d be reminded she was someone you had fun with, but that was all. Lexa made her feel like a fucking bombshell. Was showing her that they were on the same page in every facet of this relationship.

Clarke wanted to last longer but couldn’t, needing release like she needed air. It hit her hard, just as Lexa found a different spot and adjusted her angle, because of course she knew every inch of her body. She muffled her moans in Lexa’s top, though she doubted it helped.

Lexa pressed small, tender kisses on her neck while she rubbed her clit in tight circles, whispering I love yous between Clarke’s sighs. For a moment they simply came down the same euphoric wave together, not in a rush to find the world again. When she finally pulled out, Clarke whined in protest. She couldn’t get enough, now wanting nothing more than to make Lexa feel the same.

She’d crossed the line, and there was no part of her that wanted to go back.

#clexa #clexa fic #w #well she lasted half a day it's not too bad #f: citf

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opposums-love-arson · 7 months

Text

Scream Queen Book 1: Conventional Final Girl

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3

Stu Macher x Reader x Billy Loomis

The last class of the day rolled around, for the most part it was bland until- “(y/n),” The teacher called out my name, waving a slip of paper in his hand. “Head office would like to see you.” I could hear students murmur and gossip about how it was my turn to be interrogated. Stu and Billy, they sat on either side of me, gave me both sympathetic but entertained stares like they were waiting for something. God, this whole thing was just so weird! I felt like there were eyes on me the entire time I was walking to the office, I felt queasy and uncomfortable just thinking about Casey’s body. How it must’ve just hung there, swinging with her intestines on display for her parents to come out to...it's so gross! It’s so frightening.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked as I walked in, a little weirded out by the whole ordeal.

Standing by the door was Dewey and Sheriff Burke sat next to him while Principal Himdry stood at his desk.

“Yes, Ms. (l/n) please come and sit.” The principal said, I did just that.

“We just got done talking to your sister,” Dewey said, looking up from his notepad.

“Good to know,” I nodded, not really knowing what to say right now.

They asked me simple questions like “How are you?”, “Where were you last night?”, “How are your parents?”, even “Were you close to Casey Becker?” Of course I told them the truth, I had no reason to lie. I just wanted to get back to class but on my way back the bell for the end of school rang. So instead I went to the fountain where everyone usually meets. Over the loudspeaker Principal Himbry’s voice could be heard trying to rush kids home, it definitely wasn’t working. Everyone was already here so I just flopped down on the concrete ground in front of Tatum and her boyfriend.

“What questions did they ask you, Sid?” Tatum looked over to the girl in question as she braided strands of my hair with Stu.

“Well, they asked me if I knew Casey.” She responded as she sat between her boyfriend’s legs.

“Hey they ask if you like to hunt?” Stu looked up from my hair and turned his view to the other couple.

“Yeah they did, they ask you?” Billy returned the question, as he threw something into the fountain.

“Why would they ask you if you like to hunt?” Tatum wondered, looking in between everyone.

Wasn’t it obvious though?

“Because their bodies were gutted.” Pipped up Randy, no doubt trying to scare Tatum. I nudged his leg, receiving an annoyed grunt from him in response.

That wasn’t it.

“Thank you, Randy.” Billy said even though he looked down at my face. I know who the non-sarcastic version of that thank you was for.

“They didn’t ask me if I like to hunt,” Tatum said, looking out into nothing in particular.

“That’s because we live in a sexist patriarchal society,” I mumbled as I leaned back into Tatum’s legs. Letting Stu poke little flowers into my hair.

“Wow real wise (y/n),” I could practically hear Randy roll his eyes.

“It’s cause there’s no way a girl coulda’ killed them,” Stu said as he looked between his friends and girlfriend.

“Literally, just proved my point Stu,” I groaned rolling my head over while Tatum kept playing with my hair.

“That’s so sexist, the killer could easily be female, Basic Instinct.” Tatum retorted, trying to be on my side.

Before I could correct her Randy beat me to it, “That was an ice pic, not exactly the same thing”

“There’s been loads of movies with female killers! I mean for starters Home for The Holidays or Girls Nite Out also known as The Scaremaker and-” Before I could finish I was cut off with a light kick.

“Yeah yeah, anyways Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out.” Stu said, “The fact, it takes a man to do something like that.”

“Or a man’s mentality.” Tatum said, totally mocking Stu’s words. This made me giggle a bit earning another kick from Stu.

“How do you gut someone?” Sid asked, her question obviously rhetorical and voice shaky. We all paused and looked over at her, I grabbed her hand and squeezed a bit. This time she squeezed back.

Stu obviously didn’t understand or maybe he did but didn’t care considering he said, “You take the knife.” This made Billy perk up. “And you slit em from the groin to sternum.” Stu finished.

“Hey, it’s called tact you fuckrag.” Billy said in a slightly rude and defensive tone. And here I thought he was going to stick up for my big sis.

“Hey Stu, didn’t you used to date Casey?” Sid asked, trying to make Stu as uncomfortable as she was.

This shocked Stu a little, though he was quickly back to his usual playful self.

“Yeah for like two seconds,” He scoffed out with a slight smirk.

Popping his head into the conversation Randy said, “Before she dumped you for Steve.” Oh no.

“I thought you dumped her for me?” Tatum asked a slightly confused and hurt expression forming on her face. I leaned my head on her knees all while still looking up at the couple.

“I did, he’s full of shit,” Stu said as he used his head to gesture to Randy.

“And are the police aware that you dated the victim?” Randy asked, obviously instigating something between him and Stu.

“Oh no,” I groaned out.

“What are you saying? That I killed her?” Stu asked, eyebrows knitted together, obvious offense written on his face.

“It would certainly improve your high school Q,” said Randy

Scooting up to Stu’s chest Tatum said, “Stu was with me last night, okay?”

“Yeah I was,” Stu said in an elongated tone, putting his arm around Tatum.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I rolled my eyes as I stood up and went to go sit next to Randy. While Tatum and Randy seemed to laugh a little at this, Stu seemed kind of hurt.

I arched a brow at him as if to ask why but it was totally ignored when Randy asked, “Was that before or after he sliced and diced!?”

It was obvious that Sid was getting uncomfortable, both Billy and I could see it.

“Fuck you nut-case, where were you last night?” Tatum asked as she leaned on Stu.

“Working, thank you.” Randy chimed. I’m pretty sure those were two seperate answers.

“Oh at the video store? I thought they fired your sorry ass,” Tatum retorted

Before Randy’s stupid mouth could say anything more I spoke up, “They did. Twice.”

This earned a laugh from everyone except Sidney and Randy, I thought Sid would at least give a little giggle?

“I didn’t kill anybody.” Stu said in a quiet now calm but still a little offended tone.

“Nobody said you did,” Billy said, raising his expression at the word did. That is what I mean by shady.

“Thanks buddy!” Stu said now back to his more regular sarcastic enthusiasm.

“Besides, it takes a man to do something like that,” Randy you stupid motherfucker. He made it quite clear that he was mocking Stu. The ‘perfect’ impression.

“Yuh I’m gonna gut your ass in a second kid!” Stu exclaimed back to Randy.

“Tell me something, did you really put her liver in the mailbox? Cause I heard they found her liver in the mailbox!” Randy’s voice got more high pitched with every couple words. “Next to her spleen and her pancreas.”

“Randy, you goon-fuck, I’m trying to eat here!” Tatum said as she threw a grape at him?

At this point it was noticeable that Sidney felt like she was going to puke so she picked up her backpack and kissed Billy goodbye.

“Yeah, Randy, Tatum’s getting mad. Better liver alone.” Stu said with the shitty timed pun and both of those piss-for-brains boys started chuckling.

“Liver alone!” Stu exclaimed out loud, letting his tongue drop out like some stupid hyeana.

It was obvious Billy was ready to punch him but I quickly beat him to it. “Stop being a total jackass for once in your life Stu,” I said before jogging to catch up with my step sister.

“Ow, liver, liver- it was a joke…” I could hear Stu’s playful goofy tone get a little disappointed as I walked by Sid’s side.

“Stu can be a real ass sometimes,” I say as I lean my head on Sidney’s shoulder. “Tell me about it,” she said as we waited for the school bus. Doesn’t he know when to shut up? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy how funny and care free he can be but only when it’s at the right times. That wasn't the right time. “Do you want to spend the night at Tatum’s tonight?” Sid asked, looking down at me the best she could. I continue looking at the street in front of us when I say, “Yeah sure, but only if you ask.” Sid just shakes her head and smiles a little before saying, “We’ve all been hanging out together for six months, how come you still can’t ask her these things?” I just shrug. “I just still feel a little nervous, like I don’t know anyone still.” That wasn’t the entire truth. The real reason was because Stu confessed to me a few nights ago and I… punched him because of it. I know stupid but I didn’t know what to do! Like yeah I really like him too but he’s Tatum’s boyfriend! Sid nudges me to look up at her and I do so. “Look, (y/n), we’re family and so are our friends. You can feel free to ask them anything, besides you looked pretty close when Stu was putting flowers in your hair,” She said with a small smirk. “Yeah and so was Tatum!” I exclaimed, receiving a ‘shut up’ down the street. “You’re never going to fess up to it,” Sid said, this time leaning her head on my shoulder. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

#scream x yn #scream 1996 #scream movie #scream franchise #ghostface x reader #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader #slasher x reader

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puari-vol · 8 months

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Surrender

I googled "how to undo hypnosis" but I wasn't finding anything useful, in fact I knew thinking about it made it worse, but I couldn't help myself, it was just so tantalizing...no no, not tantalizing, terrifying!

I closed the browser, and rubbed my temples, trying to sort my own thoughts from the ones that weren't supposed to be there. but It was just so hard not to think about her eyes, so pretty I coudln't help but stare, or the smell of her perfume, how it made me feel so dizzy and sleepy, or her voice, the way she just talked me down into a drooling empty mess...

I shook my head vigorously I needed to get out, take a walk, clear my mind...but it was just so hard not to think about it...it was just so easy to surrender, it felt so good to surrender...damn it!

I was walking now, I hopped the cool outdoor air would help me clear my head and make a decision. My phone buzzed and I started reaching into my pocket, then stopped myself. What if it was Her? Could she drop me in a text message? Of course she could, she could do anything to me, I was totally powerless...why did that make me want to check it more? no no...bad don't think about it, don't think...

and yet somehow my phone was in my hand, fingers seeming to work on their own until horrified at my lack of control I was reading a message from...not her, I sighed. was that relief? or disappointment? it was my friend asking where I had gone after the party last night...but I definitely should not think about the party.

and yet as I walked with nothing to occupy myself, I found my mind wandering back to the night before. It was a party in a friend of a friends backyard, I had just about gotten drunk enough to start enjoying myself when she walked up to me. She was small, nearly a whole head shorter than me, not threating in the slightest. I had seen her earlier standing alone in the corner, scanning the room completely expressionless. I remember thinking she didn't even look old enough to drink. But now that she was standing right in front of me, there was something in her eyes...an intensity that made me feel off balance...or maybe it was just the alcohol.

we chatted for a little bit about nothing in particular...or had we? The conversation was hard to remember...she asked me to check her eye shadow, to tell her how it looked, she had me smell her perfume, said it made her dizzy the first time she smelled it, she asked me how it made me feel. she asked me if I was relaxed and I just said, "sure" and she smiled a strange smile. then something distracted me and I looked away for a moment, when I looked back she had stepped closer, only inches away, one hand holding my arm gently

"wanna see something cool?" she said, still smiling

"uh, okay?"

"Good, just listen carefully, it won't work if you don't listen got it? you listening?"

"I'm listening"

"Good, all you have to do is listen and pay attention to my eyes, my eyes are pretty aren't they?"

"Yeah...?"

"Good, you're going to drop soon, you're feeling heavy right? that's probably my perfume, you're body's very relaxed for me now, are you ready? it will only feel like a second, just close your eyes for a moment...and sleep...and awake very good"

I stood up straight, she had pulled on my arm suddenly, pulling me down toward her. my heart was beating fast now for some reason

"What...what just happned?" I stammered pulling away from her a little, she just smiled

"just put you in a little trance, nothing to worry about"

"A trance?"

"Yeah with hypnosis, its fun right?"

"But...what...?

"You seem confused, here let me show you again real quick, it gets easier every time"

before I could say anything she moved in again, hand on my arm, tugging me gently toward her

"Eyes" she said, I found myself looking into hers and she smiled

"soooo good at following instructions, just like last time now, ready? three two one, sleep...that's right just like that, my voice is pushing the thoughts right out of your head, listening so so carefully, very good... remember, easier and easier every time, and awake!"

my eyes opened, we had somehow come inside from the backyard, and were now in a living room that was empty accept for a few sleeping drunk people.

"But...when...how did-"

"Shhhhh, sit down silly"

she pulled me down onto the couch with her

"But you're...I'm not...how are you doing this?"

"Shhhhhhh"

she reached her other hand out and put in on my cheek, I was too bewildered to stop her, away from the music and people I suddenly felt like all of my focus was on her.

"Don't worry about it, there's nothing you can do about it at this point, watch I'm just gonna tell you to close your eyes and Drop, that's right, sooooo easy now to let your mind go blank for me, very good. it feels good doesn't it? surrendering to me? yes it does. next time you drop you're gonna go so deep that you'll stay like that for the rest of the night, then we'll really get to have some fun, coming back, wide awake now"

she was snapping her fingers in front of my face, I was blinked rapidly, my body felt heavy and drowsy, the smell of her perfume was overwhelming. she gently pulled me down until I was lying in her lap, staring up at her beautiful eyes...

"Don't worry now, you're going to love this"

she said running a hand through my hair

"Because I'm going to tell you to love it, You're heads so empty now you could probably just drop yourself don't you think? Since you're so good at following instructions, just look deep into my eyes, and say "I surrender" then you'll be all mine"

I was already lost in her eyes, and her voice made it so hard to think, but my lips moved

"I....ssssurender...."

And that was all I could remember, I had woken up back home alone, with nothing but the smell and a note saying 'see you soon' to prove that it had been anything other than a dream.

I shook myself out of a daze, I had let my head go all fuzzy with the memories and my feet had wandered. I was standing outside of an 24 hour diner and I decided to go inside. I sat at the first available booth, and suddenly realized there was someone already sitting there, in my daze I had just sat down at someone else's table

"S-sorry I didn't see-"

Then my sluggish mind recognized the face smiling back at me and I froze

"good to see you again"

I tore myself away from her eyes and looked down at the table

"H-How did you...find me?"

she giggled

"Find you? I told you to come here silly"

"What? but...when-"

"Last night, of course the first thing I taught you was how to forget things and you are soooo good at following instructions aren't you? but I have so many more wonderful things to teach you...that is if you are accepting my offer?"

"Y-your...your offer?"

"Why do you think I let you go? you said you wanted to think about it, so we agreed to meet here tonight once you had decided...but of course, you wouldn't remember that"

for the first time since this morning I felt some hope, I had though I might never be in control again but...

"You're...giving me a choice?"

"Of course, have you come to a decision? do you need more time?"

I shook my head

"N-no...I've decided"

I risked a glance up at her, she was still smiling waiting for my answer...I suddenly remembered something

"About your offer...yes...I want to move in with you and be your pet...please"

"I'm so glad! we're gonna have so much fun together...but first, you know what you have to do, just look into my eyes and say your magic words"

"I surrender"

#hypnosis #hypnok1nk #hypnostory #femdomme #hypnotized #mind control #brainwashing #hypnofantasy

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the-meta-tron · 8 months

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Good Omens Theory: Matchbox Foreshadowing

Did anyone wonder why there was so much emphasis on this matchbox?

We know that it was later connected to Gabriel's disappearance since it's from The Resurrectionist in Edinburgh, and it's where he stored his fly from Beelzebub. The Resurrectionist, of course, was a double entendre to the body snatchers that were an essential part of Victorian medical research as well as Jesus himself. Knowing at the end of the season that Heaven is planning the Second Coming, all the references to the Resurrectionist seemed like some pretty basic foreshadowing. But I think it goes deeper than that.

THE QUOTE

Why is there a quote from the Book of Job on a matchbox from a place named after Jesus? Surely, there would have been other scripture that was more relevant to JC. No, instead we get this from the book of Job.

Job 41:19 Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out

Upon the first watch, the first thing that immediately sprung to mind when that quote floated on screen was the last time fiery sparks leaped out of someone's mouth in Heaven. Who did that again?

Oh yeah!

Crowley, wearing Aziraphale's face.

I've always wondered exactly what the relevance of this particular quote from the Book of Job meant. After all, references to The Book Of Job were everywhere in season 2. There are some excellent metas out there as to why Job is so important to season 2, but I want to actually analyze what the scripture that's been referenced is describing.

The whole point of the Book of Job is most of it is about God's conversation with Job. Chapter 41 is titled: The Lord's Power Shown in the Leviathan. And I really don't think that is a coincidence.

The Leviathan, as described in Chapter 41 of the Book of Job... is a giant snake that breathes fire. Literally.

Basically, God is talking to Job about all of their creations, and they bring up The Leviathan as one of the most fearsome things they ever created. It's basically God saying to Job: look at my big scary sea snake that breathes fire. Do you think you can fight this big scary sea snake that breathes fire? You can't. He's so powerful. No weapons can harm him. He's stronger than anything. Everyone's terrified of him. But he's not more powerful than ME because I'm God.

So where else does the Leviathan appear in theology?

In the Book of Enoch, The Leviathan is a female giant chaos serpent that lives deep in the ocean, while her mate, Behemoth, is a male giant chaos beast (based off of a hippopotamus or water-ox) who lives in the mythical desert of Duidain, East of Eden.

In the Book of Revelations, The Leviathan is associated with The Devil (a lot of things get associated with the Devil in Christianity. Read my Crowley isn't Lucifer, But... theory for more context). It is also strongly associated with being The Serpent of Eden ("this is the dragon that was cast out of Paradise, that beguiled Eve and is permitted in this world to make sport of us" - Jerome of Stridon), aka our good friend Crowley. In the prophecy of Revelations, the Leviathan, also known as The Seven-Headed Dragon, is kind of important in the final battle between Heaven and Hell.

So, I think Crowley is The Leviathan, and he's going to have a much more important role in the Second Coming than he thinks he does.

The Resurrectionist(s).

I think Season 3 is going to be a biblical zombie apocalypse.

Let me explain.

In the Episode 2 Minisode, we see Aziraphale find out that God is going to let Satan destroy everything Job owns, including his children. Aziraphale thinks killing children is wrong, so he tries to stop Crowley from killing Job's children, only to find out, surprise! Crowley never planned to kill the children and was always scheming behind Hell's back to find a way to protect them. Aziraphle helps Crowley by working together to trick Heaven into thinking Job's old children are dead and they have new ones now, saving the children's lives.

In the Episode 3 Minisode, we see Aziraphale and Crowley get involved with a body snatcher named Elpseth. Aziraphale thinks digging up corpses for money is wrong, so he stops Elpseth from selling the body to a resurrectionist, only to find out, surprise! The medical community actually really needs these human corpses to study anatomy and potentially reduce human suffering. He tries to help Elpseth dig up another body, but Wee Morag gets shot and killed, and Crowley stops Elpseth from killing herself with Laudanum by drinking it instead and makes her agree to live a better life.

In the Episode 4 Minisode, we see Aziraphale and Crowley flirt do a little magic show together so Aziraphale can repay Crowley for saving his books by doing a West End show to cover Crowley's alcohol smuggling debts. Meanwhile, there are literal zombie nazis who have been hired by hell to try to find evidence that the two of them are working together. Aziraphale and Crowley trust each other when their miracles aren't working, and they pull off the magic trick. Backstage, when Furfur rubs the proof in their faces, Aziraphale tricks him by doing sleight-of-hand so Furfur returns to hell without proof.

In the minisodes, we see several consistent themes popping up. We see Aziraphale struggling with morality. We see Aziraphale and Crowley working together to help humanity or each other. We see them saving human lives at great personal risk. We see deception and sleight-of-hand against Heaven, Hell, and Humanity. Lastly and most importantly, we see a lot of death and resurrection. We see the not-death and not-resurrection of Job's children, the deaths of resurrectionists of Victorian Scotland, and the literal death and resurrection of the Nazi Zombies.

Outside of the minisodes, we see Crowley and Aziraphale's combined miracle be worth 25 Lazarii, aka bringing 25 people back from the dead. We see Gabriel, in his purple-eyed prophetic trance, warn of a great storm that will raise the dead. And we see Crowley bring a man who was ripped apart by demons back to life(?).

Not to mention we know Jesus, The Resurrectionist, is going to be around for season 3. And the Second Coming, aka Judgement Day, is going to happen. And the Last Judgement in Abrahamic Theology is the Day of Resurrection; it is "The Resurrection of the Dead, both Just and Unjust" (Acts 24:25); it is Life to the Dead so they may live eternally in the Kingdom to Come. (That's why, in Abrahamic Theology, the Book of Life is so important. You can see my Book of Lies theory for more on that).

The dead are going to rise. It is established that it's possible for the dead to become zombies with the nazi zombie episode. Why devote an entire minisode to the concept of zombies if it isn't important? It's foreshadowed time and time again throughout season 2.

I also anticipate that we're going to see the other themes that were present in the minisodes. I don't think anyone will be surprised if next season Aziraphael will struggle with morality. Aziraphale and Crowley are going to have to learn to communicate properly so they can work together and trust each other again (being able to do miracles of immense power together is a huge Chekov's Gun). We're going to see them do some kind of deception again to trick Heaven and Hell into thinking they're getting their way with the apocalypse when they actually aren't.

In Summary

So, in conclusion, based on that little matchbox and the wider plot of Season 2, we're going to see Crowley be the giant fire-breathing chaos serpent, aka Leviathan (literally or metaphorically), with some kind of essential role at the end of the world. And I think we're going to see a zombie apocalypse or mass resurrection of some sort. I also think we're going to see Aziraphale and Crowley have to learn to trust each other again so they can do A Big Miracle and also trick Heaven and Hell with some really clever deception.

#good omens #good omens theory #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens season 1 #the job episode #the grave episode #the nazi zombie episode #good omens season 3 predictions #book of life

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 22 days

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Why The Caged Bird Sings | Chapter 4

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction) Rating: Explicit Relationships Vinsmoke Sanji x F!Reader Characters: Vinsmoke Sanji, Patty, Red Leg Zeff, Original Characters, Strawhat crew. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, minor POV switching. Summary: One night, you were brought to the luxurious Baratie Restaurant Ship, renowned for its exceptional cuisine that your family had been intrigued to sample. A particular blond and comely waiter captured your attention with his charming smile and gentle eyes, but while your beauty and sophistication intrigued him, Sanji also observed the profound nervousness that caused your jaw and body muscles to tense whenever your fiancé made contact with your hand or your parents delivered a humiliating criticism towards you. One dinner at the Baratie soon turned into a recurring event, and then more. As your friendship with Sanji slowly evolved into something that burned from within, you strove to make your longstanding dream come true; freeing yourself from a constricting existence. ------------------------- As Sanji looked at you curiously, the gentle smile never leaving his face, you asked him, "Do you know why the caged bird sings?" He thought about it for a moment before answering, "Because it has a song to give?" You chuckled at his response and shook your head. "You're not entirely wrong, but no."

Divider by firefly-graphics

Feel free to read this on AO3 if it is more comfortable for you due to its length. I only ask to support me with a like and reblog if you enjoy my work. ☺️

Author's note: Another long chapter, what is new! Things for the Reader are finally taking a good turn, with a new life at the horizon. I want her relationship with Sanji to develop properly and in the most realistic way possible, but I can pretty much confirm that, in the next update, a kiss will finally take place.

The Baratie was delivering more than a memorable meal on a casual night. In fact, you were set on crossing paths with Sanji again, perhaps even as a part of his team.

Despite your genuine intention to resolve matters at home, a whole week passed, and yet, you hadn't mustered the courage to approach your parents' door.

Mari had welcomed you into her home for as long as you needed, urging you to extend your stay until you felt sufficiently prepared to face your father's wrath. However, the harsh reality was that you would never truly be ready, as you had been grappling with this problem since you were born.

Sleep was elusive. The anxiety of potential repercussions gnawed at your insides, considering your father's unpredictable nature and the fact that he could orchestrate any form of punishment as long as it guaranteed your compliance.

"I'm telling you, just take your time. Rushing it would only backfire," Mari advised you, as you found it difficult to even consume your meal.

"I know, but I can't keep hiding here just to avoid them.”

She exhaled deeply. "I understand, but you should at least devise a reasonable plan.”

You grumbled in response. "A plan? Mari, no plan can shield me from my father's fury. I rejected the Admiral's son, and he considered it crucial to hand me over for his political gain. It's all a business transaction to him.”

"What kind of father treats his own daughter as a mere business asset?”

"Apparently, mine does.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

You shook your head, standing up and beginning to pace to and fro. "The problem is, there's no escape for me. If I confront him, he might just lock me in and force me into marriage. If I flee, he would most certainly hunt me down.”

Mari shrugged. "You could always seek refuge at the Baratie. You seemed quite at ease there, and you've even made a rather special friend.”

You attempted to disregarded her suggestive wink. "It’s the first place my father would take into account, and the last thing I want is for him to create a commotion and hassle the staff there.”

"But they could defend you. The head chef used to be a pirate, and you told us how Sanji gave Nutty a good thrashing. Honestly, that guy is fit as heck.”

“Mari.”

"Hey, I'm serious! Perhaps your judgment is clouded, but mine isn't. We all noticed the chemistry between you two. Sanji is genuinely interested in you, and with his strength and agility? Girl.”

It was difficult for you to ignore the blush creeping onto your cheeks at the thought. "That's not the issue here. I don't want to burden him more than I already have.”

She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, fine. I tried. Do it your way. But remember how long it took you to finally stand up against that jerk. I'm concerned for you, you know?”

You smiled. “I know.”

"All I'm suggesting is that you should stay here for at least another week. We can brainstorm a solution together.”

You were about to nod in agreement, when a forceful knock on her front door startled both of you. You pivoted towards Mari, straining your ear to determine if the person outside had mistakenly approached the wrong house.

"Were you expecting someone?" You asked her. "Did you invite the others?”

You immediatly felt apprehensive as you noticed her tense up in the distinct way she did when something was off. The knocking continued, more insistent than before, and somehow, a part of you already foresaw what was about to occur.

"I didn't," she responded. "Stay here.”

Mari dashed to the entrance, alert and clutching her gun as she moved. You heard the sound of the door being unlocked and creaking open, followed by her cautious, distant voice and another that was painfully familiar to you.

So familiar, in fact, that it sent a chill through your veins as soon as you heard it.

“Where is she?”

Your blood ran ice cold.

"I have no idea who you're referring to, sir," Mari replied indifferently.

"There's no need for you to hide her, she's been spotted here. Step aside, immediately.”

Your father's authoritative tone was unnerving. Even in someone else's home, he had the audacity to behave like a Marine when, in truth, he was a nobody. He leveraged his high-status acquaintances and associates as his safety net, confident that he had someone to turn to in times of need. He considered himself supremely important, treating everyone else as an inferior citizen with no significant rank.

Primarily your friends.

But Mari, being the strong-willed person she was, undoubtedly didn't feel intimidated.

"Nope, that's not going to fly with me. This is my place, so I suggest you just get lost and go hassle someone else.”

You heard the sound of the gun being cocked, and at that moment, you realized you couldn't remain idle. You were deeply indebted to her, aware that she would go to extraordinary lengths to ensure your safety and happiness. But as brave and robust as she was, and as much as you valued her protection and the zeal she invested in everything she did for you, the last thing you wanted was for her to bear the burden of your father's blood on her hands and land herself in trouble.

And despite the nature of your relationship with the man, you harbored no desire to see him meet his end.

You swiftly moved towards the door, your heart hammering in your chest as you saw her standing in the entrance, effectively barricading it.

"Mari, it's okay," you stated coldly. "I'll be fine.”

Your friend scarcely turned her head, not wishing to lower her guard in the presence of your unfazed father.

"No, Y/N. This man has wrecked your life. How 'fine' can you possibly be?”

Your father laughed boisterously. "Wrecked her life? I've only ever done what's best for her. But I don’t expect someone like you to understand.”

"How is arranging your daughter's marriage to a man she hates in her best interest?!”

It might have appeared almost comical, considering how his face was reddening and puffing up. You wished for nothing more than to see him back down and entirely give up on you, but you were aware that he wouldn't leave you alone when his personal benefit was at stake.

"Mari, that's enough," you said softly. "You're incredible and I love you, but I'll handle it from here.”

You could see her hesitance, her eyes darting back and forth, barely budging from the doorway. You gently squeezed the hand that was still clutching the gun, so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

Eventually, she dropped her shoulders and stepped aside to let you pass. "If anything happens to her," she began, casting a threatening glance at your father. "I swear, high status or not, you'll regret ever being born.”

"Watch your language, you impertinent child. I would never harm my own daughter."

"Yeah, because she's a crucial pawn in your schemes, right??”

Before he could delve further into the argument, you nudged him away. "Let's just go, please.”

You whispered a quiet "thank you" to Mari, and all your friend could do was exhale a frustrated sigh as she saw the man take a firm grip of your upper arm. You knew she wasn't the type to sit still, and there was a strong possibility that she might rally the rest of the group to follow you and keep surveillance outside your family's home.

That thought alone provided some solace, because no matter how strenuous things with your father might become over time, you knew you had a reliable support network in those good-hearted people. Your only regret was that it took so many years for you to understand that you couldn't continue letting your parents make decisions for you, simply because you yearned for their acceptance, their love, and to finally receive the decent treatment you deserved.

It was painful, and undeniably hard to accept, but that was something they were incapable of doing.

Your father was visibly enraged, not uttering a word to you during the journey. The way he was practically dragging you around was predictably filled with ire, and all you could do was respond to the onlookers' stares with a reassuring smile.

Deep down, though not really that deep, you found it absolutely mortifying, disheartening, and miserable.

Upon reaching your family's house (because you could no longer consider that place your home, it never truly was), he flung the door open. "Get in," he barked, roughly shoving you inside.

You stumbled and had to steady yourself with the back of the vacant chair at the head of the table. Your mother sat to the left, with Christopher to the right and Admiral Wheeler directly opposite you.

The atmosphere was thick with tension, your mother nervously cutting her piece of bread without even casting a glance your way, while your former fiancé's neck and jaw were rigid with stress. The admiral, on the other hand, seemed more puzzled and intrigued than anything else.

Somehow, perhaps due to your escalating nervousness, the whole situation elicited a chuckle from you as you took your seat. Your father occupied the empty chair next to his wife, and Chris immediately turned to you with a swollen, patched-up nose.

Unable to contain your enjoyment, you asked mockingly, "How's your face?"

His response was utterly foreseeable.

“Go to hell, bitch.”

“Christopher Wheeler.”

The admiral's voice was surprisingly booming, startling everyone present.

"What?! She started it!”

His father grunted, lightly smacking his hand against the table and causing his glass to vibrate on it. "How old are you, 12?”

It was unusual and somewhat unexpected, as the Admiral usually maintained a neutral stance, seldom intervening unless it was to make a joke. Somehow, you got the impression that he was taking your side for the first time, but you didn't want to deceive yourself with something that could simply be a product of your imagination.

Chris lowered his gaze, muttering a curse under his breath. Your mother's hands trembled with agitation, while your father cleared his throat to commence his speech.

"Admiral, I believe my daughter owes you an apology," he declared. "I'm certain this is all just a misunderstanding and she will come to her senses.”

The man leveled his gaze at you, expectation clearly etched in his eyes, yet remarkably devoid of any irritation. “Is that so?”

You sighed, feeling positively incensed and not in the mood to hold back. "No. I am perfectly sane.”

With a growl, your father took a deep breath, making an effort to recollect his composure. Sensing his tension, your mother tenderly grazed her fingers against his wrist, doing the best she could to defuse the situation.

"She's not serious. Y/N merely panicked when your son proposed to her, nothing more.”

With a look of disgust, you shifted your attention to your father. "May I remind you that you're not in my head.”

He nonchalantly brushed you aside with a dismissive wave of his hand, anxiously awaiting the Admiral's response.

Nevertheless, the Marine kept his focus directed at you, narrowing his eyes as though wanting to perceive something that you couldn't quite put into words.

"Perhaps she should speak for herself," he suggested.

Your father was left dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open as he glanced back and forth between you and the Admiral.

A slight smile appeared on your face. "At least someone values my opinion.”

The admiral gave a nod of his head, which threw Christopher into a state of discomfort.

You had no intention of holding yourself back. "He slapped me. Are we truly going to overlook that?”

Christopher coughed, squirming in his chair like a mouse caught in a trap.

"Hold on, what? Is that the truth, son?”

“W-well…. uhm….”

Admiral Wheeler released a sigh of defeat, shrouding his face with his large hand while incessantly shaking his head.

“I was angry!”

Frankly, you expected your former fiancé to deny it, to pretend innocence and claim that you were spinning stories for self-defense, all while maintaining the facade of a noble and respectful man. However, in the end, he appeared so inconsequential and weak that it evoked pity in you. He seemed to crave his father's approval, reflecting the same longing you nurtured towards yours for a very long time.

The Admiral pronounced your father's name with such severity that it made both him and your mother wince. "I'd like to have a word with your daughter. In private.”

Your father was visibly panicking, for things were veering in a direction he hadn't predicted. "Uhm, well you see.... I don't think that's a good ide-”

“I insist.”

The Marine's face was marked by a large grin, yet it was so strained and intimidating that it managed to scare even you.

Ultimately, your parents had no choice but to comply, sinking back into their seats like two frightened children. You had never seen them appear so distraught.

"Y/N, would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen?”

The noticeably softer way in which the Admiral addressed you was disarming, yet you appreciated it all the same.

As he rose from his chair and ambled away, the silence that enveloped the main room was deafening. You promptly followed him and closed the kitchen door behind you, feeling a bit uneasy as you had never really established much familiarity with the Admiral.

Mr. Wheeler settled in comfortably, exhaling a relaxed breath and signaling for you to join him. Heeding his gesture, you took a stool next to him, the flickering fire in front of you, your gaze resting on the chicken being prepared.

At the current pace, you were sure it would end up burnt, but you found yourself lacking the energy to make a comment on it.

"Sir, I apologize for dragging you into this," you finally voiced. "It wasn't my intention to disrespect you or your son.”

He arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "Do you think I wanted to speak with you because of that?”

“That’s not it?”

"No, my dear. I am actually interested in understanding how you truly feel. It's evident that you don't wish to marry my son. Thus, I'm curious as to why you adhered to your father's directive up until this point?”

Your eyes dropped to your hands, your chest constricting with emotion. "Because I wanted to make him happy."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Even if it implies condemning yourself to a lifetime of unhappiness?”

"It's pathetic, isn't it?”

"No, Y/N. It's not.”

For some reason, his unexpected kindness brought tears to your eyes, and you found yourself suppressing a sob of despair that rattled you to your core.

"In reality, I am the one who owes you an apology.”

You sniffled, wiping your forming tears away. "Why is that?”

"For all this time, I merely stood by in silence, permitting your old man to do as he pleased. I considered him a valuable asset, given his extensive network and the wealth of information he has access to.”

You listened in silence, engulfed in the grief you had suppressed for far too long.

"I've been observing you. I assumed you would object, as your expression suggested you were not in agreement with his instructions, but then you never did.”

Your attention was fixated on the flames consuming the chicken, which was now assuming a questionable dark hue.

"Eventually, I convinced myself that I was wrong, that you willingly chose this path and had your unique way of expressing it. I never truly took your feelings into account, I remained silent, and didn’t step up to protect you.”

"You weren't obligated to look out for me, Admiral," you asserted.

"No, but you were on track to become a part of my family. Under the assumption that you would marry my son, I should have shown more consideration.”

"What changed, then?"

"You did. The night we dined at the Baratie, I noticed something in you that wasn't present before. You looked so heartbroken… so out of place. And for the first time, you snapped.”

You recollected the way your father treated you that night, so disrespectful, demanding a level of submission you were no longer willing to exhibit.

"It was rather amusing, truth be told. I witnessed you finally standing up for yourself, and your father was unable to control that.”

Your lips trembled as you managed to summon another smile for him.

"You see, when my wife passed away, I pledged to my son that I would be a good parent, to prevent him from feeling any sense of deprivation growing up," he elaborated. "But I made a grave mistake; I ended up spoiling him, granting his every wish. I even facilitated his career progression because I knew he aspired to follow in my footsteps.”

While Admiral Wheeler typically radiated confidence, strength, and composure, he now seemed like an entirely different person. The man sitting beside you was vulnerable, sensitive, and laden with flaws that made him a bit more human. Just like you.

"When I recognized that he had become self-centered and excessively prideful to the point of discomfort, it was too late. I could no longer influence his character.”

"Admiral, I may not like your son, but Christopher has some redeeming qualities too.”

"I appreciate your intention to assuage my guilt, but there's no need to defend him. Never did I teach him it was acceptable to lay a hand on a woman.”

"I wasn’t exactly nice to him. I’m not saying that I deserved it, it’s just…”

He tenderly squeezed your shoulder in a paternal way. "No, there's no excuse for what he did. And I'm extremely sorry you had to endure all of this."

There was so much you wanted to convey, but despite the immense effort to organize your thoughts, the only thing that managed to escape your lips was a simple "Okay.”

"Just tell me something, Y/N, and please answer honestly. Do you believe I can trust your father?”

His question took you by surprise, but it was clear to you that by that point, the Admiral had grown deeply doubtful of their partnership.

For a brief moment, you deliberated whether it was appropriate to reveal the truth to him. Perhaps, if this had happened just a few weeks earlier, you might have felt unable to do so.

But as the Admiral had pointed out, you were no longer the same.

"From a professional standpoint, he excels at what he does, and he holds a significant amount of knowledge that could be advantageous to you.”

“But?”

You pursed your lips together, constructing the most persuasive sentence possible to convince him.

"But I don't believe he's trustworthy. You've seen what he tried to do with me; he shows no qualms when it comes to his own interests.”

He affirmed with a tilt of his head. "Seems like I squandered my time on such a greed-driven mastermind.”

“I’m sorry.”

"Don't be. If anything, I came to this realization before it was too late.”

He pushed his chair back and stood up, switching off the fire and waving his hand to dissipate the building smoke. The chicken was undeniably overcooked and much too charred to be edible. What a waste.

“Well, this room now reeks.”

In a fit of genuine amusement, the admiral returned to your side, giving you a supportive pat on the back as he did so.

"You know," he admitted, " You've always been superior to anyone else in my circle. You exude honesty and innocence; everything you do is heartfelt, even in moments when you're not fully aware of it.”

Ironically, the praises you had wished for from your own family were now being bestowed upon you by the man they chose to be your father-in-law.

“Part of me harbored the belief that you could change my son, turn him into a better man, and succeed where I have failed,” he admitted. "But the reality is, he would only end up shattering you.”

As the smoke dissipated through the open window, it unveiled the chicken that looked defeated, drained, and consumed. A mirror image of how you had felt for too many years.

"I want to make amends, Y/N. I understand that I'm not your family, but I believe your parents aren't the best figures to look up to. Should you ever require anything, absolutely anything, don't hesitate to approach me.”

Unconsciously, a sigh of relief escaped from you. The knowledge that you had an ally, someone as influential and impartial as he was, brought a measure of consolation, however slight.

"Thank you, Admiral. Your words carry great significance for me."

Reflecting on the intimidation you experienced the first time you laid eyes on Admiral Wheeeler, you found it mildly amusing now. Your worry was unfounded, as a powerful wave of confidence swept over you, bolstered by the man’s reassuring presence.

At that point, the prospects could only get better. After all, once you've hit rock bottom, there's no direction left but upwards.

You had emerged victorious.

After a lifetime of living in fear, enduring criticism and subjugation, you had finally triumphed in your battle against your family.

Admiral Wheeler had officially cut all professional ties with your father, which resulted in the latter exploding in rage, blaming you for being a complete catastrophe and ruining his career. However, this time, regardless of the aggression he unleashed, you didn’t even flinch. You allowed him to vent while you calmly sipped your tea, also taking satisfaction in how his former partner chastised him, forcefully ordering him to leave you alone and treat you with respect.

But it didn’t stop there. The Admiral chose to demote his son effective immediately, compelling him to regain his position without any form of favoritism. Your ex-fiancé was seething, on the brink of desperation so intense that you believed he might succumb to tears any moment. He glanced at you as if you were the most repulsive creature he had ever encountered.

And you were thoroughly gratified.

With most of your belongings already stowed away in your secret stash, there wasn't much you needed to retrieve from your old room. You happily left all those incredibly uncomfortable clothes untouched, as you were mainly focused on collecting a few leftover books.

Now that the Admiral and his son had left, the house fell into silence, and you found your parents in a state of utter defeat, staring blankly at the floor as you stepped into the living room.

You observed them to gauge whether they had anything additional to contribute to their ceaseless list of insults, but it appeared they no longer had the energy to even try.

Quietly, you moved towards the door, holding your bag and wrapping your hand around the handle. But before you could open it and step outside for the very last time, you felt the need to voice your feelings, despite knowing they would likely take no effect.

“You know, things could have been different. If you had treated me like a daughter rather than a tool from the moment I was born, I could have truly added value to this family.”

Your father grunted, shaking his head to dismiss your argument.

"I understand you wanted a son, dad. I apologize for not being the one you had hoped for.”

He looked away, and your mother wrapped her arms around herself, releasing a deep sigh.

“You've enslaved me and molded me into a submissive echo of a person. I've done nothing but strive to please you, to provide what you desired. But in the end, it was never enough.”

He was about to retaliate, but this time, your mother took his hand and signaled him to restrain himself.

And so, you persisted undeterred.

"I wish I could say that I hate you, but despite how much you've hurt me, I can't deny that I still love you after everything.”

Your words appeared to deliver a potent message, akin to an arrow hitting dead center. However, you didn't let their sudden discomposure detain you any longer.

Most likely, they were simply wounded in their pride more than anything else.

"But, as much as I'd like to erase the past, the fact remains that I won't be able to ever forgive you.”

Your mother bit her lower lip, and your father appeared to hold a similar degree of resentment. Certainly, you didn't expect him to envelop you in his arms and plead for a second chance, but the prioritization of his status over his own flesh and blood inflicted yet another painful wound to your heart.

"I wish you a good life.”

Your grip on the bag's strap tightened, and without a single backward glance, you thrust the door open to be welcomed by the evening air, with the final rays of the setting sun fading on the horizon.

And by your friends, who were patiently leaning against the wall of your family’s house, prepared to step in at any given moment if necessity arose.

Your parents made no effort to hinder you. They neither called out your name nor insisted that you remain.

Everything had come to an end, and you were completely freed from the chains that had kept you trapped in a lifelong nightmare from which you had finally awakened.

"What are you going to do now?" Rory asked as she sat on the couch with you. "I'm glad you're finally free from that despot, but technically, you're now homeless.”

"No, she is not. I have plenty of room here, she can stay with me,” said Mari.

You chuckled, sitting up straight. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I'll be sticking around in this town.”

They all froze on the spot, staring at you as if they had just seen a ghost.

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Marlo asked.

"Well, at least for the immediate future. I'm not entirely sure where I'll end up eventually, but... there's something I really want to do now.”

Your friends shared a knowing look with each other, immediately emitting a satisfied, mischievous 'Ooohh.’

"Wait, guys, it's not what you think.”

"Really?" Rubio sat on the opposite side of the couch, nudging you with his large elbow. "So you're not going to tell us you're heading back to the Baratie for that chef-guy?”

You rolled your eyes. "It's not exactly like that. Well, not entirely.”

"Aha!”

"I'm serious! He's not the primary reason, I still owe them for the chaos that Christopher created.”

Mari rested her hand on her chin, pondering aloud. "You know, that's not a bad excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse!”

Marlo snickered. "Yeah, and I'm a fish-man. Come on, we know you all too well.”

At times, they could be exasperating, but without a doubt, they had a better understanding of you than you did of yourself.

"Okay, fine. I admit I do want to see him again... but there's something about the Baratie that I can't quite put into words.”

Rory's expression brightened. "Wait, you want to work there?”

"Maybe? I am contemplating it. I need to compensate them for the wasted food and damaged tableware.”

Marlo nodded. "That makes sense, but it might only be for a short time. How much do you think that stuff was worth?”

Mari started to mentally tally up. "Well, their cuisine is of high quality and not exactly the cheapest. The tableware may not be particularly expensive, but they ended up with at least two plates and two glasses to replace.”

“Let's not forget about the tablecloth to wash,” you added.

Rubio gave a nonchalant shrug. "So maybe a week or less?”

“Most likely, yes.”

You exhaled a sigh. "Guys, this is just a hypothesis. I'm not even certain they would allow me to work there at all.”

Mari shot you a wild, excited grin. “But you have an inside connection.”

"Indeed! Sanji would definitely put in a good word for you," Rory chimed in.

The enthusiastic way they encouraged you was simultaneously embarrassing and thrilling. Their backing prompted a hearty laughter from you as they all gathered around, embodying the spirit of the close-knit family they represented.

Thus, as Mari was delineating the specifics for your formal employment request, she assured you a safe passage on their ship.

The day you left your hometown to return to the Baratie, your anxiety escalated to levels you thought were only attainable when dealing with Christopher or your father. Now, as you attired yourself and mentally braced for an endeavor that could potentially lead to a total flop, managing your soaring nerves emerged as your most formidable challenge yet.

This time around, only Mari accompanied you on your journey. The others had their own obligations to attend to, and they felt it would be awkward to all turn up simply for you to hand in a job application.

In a way, they acted as if you wouldn't be returning, hugging you tightly and wishing you a marvelous time at the floating restaurant. Their optimism undeniably compensated for your own scarcity of it, and they succeeded in instilling a bit of positivity in you.

The weather was pleasant, warm with a touch of moisture in the air, but offset by the cool, revitalizing sea breeze. The ship felt notably empty with just you and Mari on board, but you didn't want to burden the others with the expectation of always being in your company.

The reality was, you were uncertain about what awaited you. Not only were you unsure about possible developments with Sanji, but there also existed a risk that Zeff might scoff at you for even nurturing ambitions of securing a role at the Baratie. What could you feasibly contribute to their team other than some dishwashing and kitchen tidying? Your home cooking skills weren't outstanding enough to be of use, and you couldn't think of any other particular talents you possessed. You had dedicated so many years striving to liberate yourself from your constrained existence that you barely had time to develop new ones.

Luckily, Mari was there to bolster your spirits and remind you that cleaning itself was indeed a valuable ability. You had a notable knack for being quick and extremely meticulous in that area, and such a trait would be a significant asset for any restaurant, irrespective of its reputation.

Being used to your parents' critique, it was difficult for you to harbor the same self-belief as your friends did, but you determined that it would be worth attempting regardless of the result.

Now, as you looked at the ocean waves softly swaying the ship, immersed in your thoughts, Mari clasped your hand in hers and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Hey, I know that embarking on a new life can be daunting, but I'm incredibly proud of you for what you've accomplished.”

You replied with a smile, returning the supportive gesture. "Whenever I think about it, I feel as though I might wake up and discover that none of it was real.”

Mari shook her head. "Believe me, Y/N, it's absolutely real. And all jokes aside, I must say that I genuinely root for you and Sanji.”

“I barely know him. And I'm not sure if I can truly take his compliments at face value.”

"Why, do you believe he's merely toying with you? Because I think he’s serious.”

You took a moment to consider your response, then declared, "No, it's not that. I can see in his eyes that he's not lying. But in the end, I'm just one amongst the multitude of customers he's come across, and you've seen how prone he is to flirting.”

Mari emitted a grunt. "Yes, but that's different. Do you want to know what I genuinely saw?”

“What did you see?”

"Sanji is handsome, and an incredibly talented cook too. But despite his good looks and talents, I think he's actually a little insecure. I could be wrong, but who knows what that guy has been through.”

Upon contemplation, you realized you didn't really know much about Sanji's past, as he hadn't divulged anything beyond his life at the Baratie, his spats with Zeff, and his dream of discovering the All Blue. You hadn't asked, but it was plausible that Mari had a point.

"What I'm saying is that the way he looked at you was authentic, and I'm not speaking from my biased perspective. You know that I can be quite straightforward when necessary. Sanji likes you, I'm sure of it... and if you ended up working there alongside him, all doubts would be dispelled.”

Mari was known for being a sharp observer, and she rarely misread someone she had the chance to assess at first sight.

"Perhaps you're right," you conceded. "But wouldn't that make things even more complex for us, being coworkers?”

"Oof. The worst-case scenario would be the two of you not getting enough privacy, but the real fun always kicks in during the night anyway.”

With laughter bubbling up, you affectionately bumped your forehead against hers. "You're such a mischief-maker.”

“And proud of it!”

While you dearly valued all your friends equally, the connection you had with Mari was distinctively special, leaning more towards a sisterly bond. From a young age, she had always been exceptionally resilient and served as an inspiration to you, someone who remained impervious to those who attempted to pull her down. She was consistently there for you when you needed her, never once refusing to stand by your side. Despite her critique of your lack of bravery against your family, she never passed harsh judgment, offering unwavering support through your tribulations.

Even at this point, she expressed concern to the extent of guaranteeing your job security, fully cognizant of the potential reality of embarking on the return journey solo.

The commute to the restaurant was seamless and serene. You seized this opportunity to delve further into your books, inscribe reflections in your journal, and engage in thoughtful discourse about your future aspirations. Working at the Baratie, irrespective of how long it may last, was a promising stride towards your total independence.

Your parents never permitted you to secure a job on your own, always orchestrating strategic meetings to ingratiate you with society's elites and political figures. The roles you were assigned were fairly mundane, often restricted to tasks such as serving drinks or filing paperwork. The earnings you made were under your family's surveillance, and squirreling away bits of Berries for personal use proved to be a laborious endeavor.

For the first time, you had the opportunity to achieve something solely for yourself, free from their meddling or overbearing presence.

However, the instant Mari pointed out the emerging silhouette of the Baratie in the distance, an immediate wave of weakness swept over your knees and a queasy sensation began to churn in your stomach.

"Y/N, take it easy! It's not a big deal, all you need to do is smile and maintain a polite attitude. That's something you've been trained to do all your life.”

"No, this feels different. I've never been so invested in a job application before.”

Mari gently rubbed your back as you hunched over the table, shrouding your face between your arms. "What if I don't measure up?”

"Enough of that talk! You'll do great, believe me. Anyone who passes on you would be making a foolish mistake."

"Do you really think so?”

"Of course I do. Now, perk up. I know you're also anxious about Sanji, but he should actually serve as a positive motivator.”

You groaned. "Please, let's not go there.”

"Alright, listen carefully," she instructed in a stern voice, compelling you to raise your head and meet her eyes. "The fact that you hesitate whenever someone brings up his name signifies that you've encountered a man who could finally shake your world. As we both know, that's a rarity.”

You acknowledged with a nod.

"Like I said, I'm confident the feelings are mutual, so that's not something you need to fret over. Just go with the flow, take things as they come.”

You sank back into your chair, a look of resignation on your face. "I'm at a loss, Mari. Everything feels so surreal to me at this moment.”

It was unfathomable how a single night at the Baratie had the power to completely upend your life; One minute, you were betrothed to a Marine you had no interest in, succumbing to your father's will. Then, as if struck by a lightning bolt, you broke free from your cocoon, asserting your rights and discarding your shackles in an astonishingly short span of time.

And now, you were en route back to the Baratie in pursuit of a job, all while dealing with the unsettling emotions stirred up by a man you only met twice.

Your infatuation with Sanji was undeniable. Despite your tries to brush it off, from the very first moment your eyes locked with his, you were completely smitten.

It may have been childish, likely ridiculous and possibly doomed to burst like a bubble in the wind for all you knew. Yet, despite your trepidations and uncertainties, a persistent voice inside your head urged you to heed the call of your heart.

Mari's smile widened, and she tenderly stroked your hair in a soothing gesture. "Sweetie, everything will work out. Relax, take a deep breath, and give it your all.”

And naturally, your only recourse was to gather all the strength you possessed and press on.

Upon reaching the restaurant's entrance, your feet inexplicably froze. You observed various patrons walk up to the deck and step inside, all primed to relish the most delectable fare the East Blue had to offer. Although it was still quite early and not exactly dinnertime, the enticing aroma wafting from the restaurant—a tantalizing blend of grilled meat, fish, and roasted potatoes, capped off with the unmistakable sweet scent of freshly baked cake—indicated that the Baratie staff was always well-prepared.

You had anticipated the place to be less crowded, but securing a conversation with Zeff might prove to be more challenging than you had originally thought.

"Y/N, let's go. What are you doing standing here stiff as cod?”

"Mari, I don't think I can go through with this," you proclamed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, don't be silly. Of course, you can.”

She took your upper arm in her firm grasp, and you had no choice but to let her coax you out of your paralysis. Upon crossing the threshold, Mari instantly engaged in a dialogue with the fish-man. She pointed out a table that, to your repeated surprise, she appeared to have reserved for the forthcoming hours.

"One of these days, you'll have to let me in on your secret," you said to her.

"Pfff, I have no idea what you're talking about!”

You trailed after her animated figure through the dining room, which, although noticeably less crowded compared to the main area, was still bustling with activity.

The table was cozy and beautifully set for two, already decked with some enticing bread. Unfortunately, your current stomach condition was far from ideal, making the thought of savoring any food quite uninviting. Nevertheless, your resolve to meet Sanji again, potentially as a part of their crew, was not shaken.

No sooner had you reached your seat than a familiar voice echoed from across the room. Its charm was instantly enthralling, causing you to whip your head around so quickly that you could almost feel your nerves stretching within.

There stood Sanji, attired in his crisp white chef's uniform, deep in conversation with a waiter near the kitchen entrance. The instant your eyes fell on his brilliant smile, the blond hair gently falling over his left eye, the defined contour of his jaw, and the rhythmic bobbing of his Adam's apple, it felt as if your chest was about to explode. You redirected your attention back to Mari, taking in a deep breath as you felt your cheeks glow with warmth.

"Mari, he's here.”

"Yeah, I can see that.”

“What should I do?”

"What are you waiting for? Go say hi!”

She was thoroughly enjoying herself, her giggles echoing at your evident agitation in Sanji's presence.

"He's on duty, I can't just go over there and distract him from his responsibilities.”

"Actually, nevermind. I think he's just spotted us.”

Your heart leaped so violently that you needed to swallow it back down. "What?! You're kidding, right?”

“I’m not joking. Don’t turn around, he’s heading our way.”

Shit shit shit shit.

What were you even supposed to say? Would he be glad to see you? How could you maintain a cool exterior when you were struggling to keep your rambling in check? What if-

“You’re back!”

Mari pursed her lips in an effort to contain a burgeoning laugh, a reaction that was completely justifiable given the circumstances.

You spun around, and the moment you locked eyes with him, your breath was completely taken away. Because, honestly, how could a man possibly be this attractive?

Regardless, you managed to summon a bright smile in response. "Sanji, hi!"

“Hey!”

The gentleness that radiated from his greeting was simply overwhelming. He didn't afford you a moment to digest the situation, as he promptly swept you into a hug that was gentle, slightly cautious, yet concurrently bold. You could catch his aroma interlaced with the scent of cigarette and the kitchen's fragrances. It was soothing, it was sweet, and it was unforeseen.

Sanji appeared genuinely thrilled to see you there, and you courageously lifted your hands to hesitantly reciprocate his embrace.

Despite the barrier of clothing, you could feel the hardness of his muscles against your palms.

"I was concerned about you. Are you okay?”

The realization that he had been thinking of you was flattering and heartwarming.

"Yes, I'm doing well.”

You appeared to lose track of your surroundings, and even Sanji seemed reluctant to draw away from you. The sound of Mari's throat-clearing brought you back to reality, urging you to create a distance from him as you regained your poise.

"Good to see you again," she addressed him.

Sanji responded with a graceful smile, reaching out for the hand she had extended for a formal shake. In a classic display of his gentlemanly manners, albeit a bit extravagant yet still charming to see, he opted to lightly kiss her knuckles instead. "The pleasure is mine, madam.”

"Oh my, where have you been hiding all this time?"

Seeing as she was looking straight at you with an almost unnoticeable wink, it was clear that she was asking that question on your behalf.

Sanji looekd bashful, eyeing you with an enchanting glint in his aquamarine eyes. It made you go weak in the knees, akin to a punch in the gut that left you breathless and light-headed.

Mari, quickly picking up on your temporary disorientation, immediately intervened to break the ice. She leaned casually against Sanji, resting her arm comfortably on his shoulder. "Could we possibly have a word with your boss? There's a matter of utmost importance that requires discussion.”

Right, you thought to yourself. Of course. Pull yourself together, Y/N!

Sanji's brows furrowed in confusion. "You want to speak with Zeff?”

Mari subtly nodded to nudge you, shifting her eyes to the side as a signal towards him.

"Oh, uhm... yes. Is he around?”

"When isn't the old man breathing down my neck?" He responded, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'll get him.”

"I appreciate it, thank you.”

His smile broadened considerably, his expression reverting back to his playful, flirtatious manner. "Anything for you, beautiful.”

Why did his compliments always make you blush as red as a ripe tomato? Your cheeks felt like they were set ablaze as you watched him walk away, and your heart pounded so violently that you were half-convinced it might cause the entire establishment to tumble violently into the sea.

Gosh. Even his walk was alluring, not to mention the way he swept his left bangs away from his face.

"Mari, I swear, you're going to be the end of me.”

"In what way?”

"Just look at me. I’m a mess.”

She scoffed at your words. "Enough of that. Cheer up, I assure you there is no chance he will reject you. And by 'he', I'm referring to the head chef.”

"How can you be so sure?”

"You'll see. Just trust me on this, okay?”

Somehow, her smile suggested that she had been keeping a substantial piece of information hidden all along. "Mari, what is it that you're not telling me?”

"Ease up.”

You looked at her in disbelief, observing her casual movements as she settled into a seat and picked up a piece of bread from the basket at the center. Sighing in resignation, you mirrored her actions, settling into the chair on the opposite side of the table, but not daring to touch even a single crumb.

Each passing second felt like an eternity, the uncertainty of what the day held looming ominously over you. Your father's harsh words persistently invaded your thoughts, echoing in your ears as if he were shouting them from right behind you. "You're a failure. You won't achieve anything on your own. You are nothing without me.”

There was more to you than the image he consistently tried to project. Yet, every time you attempted to place some faith in your abilities, he always managed to pull you back down. His influence was felt even in his absence.

Minutes ticked by, too many to keep track of. Just as you were on the verge of standing up and storming out of the main door, Zeff's gruff voice resounded into the dining room.

"Well, I'll be damned!”

For a moment, you feared he was critiquing your presence before you could even speak to him, but it didn't take long for you to realize that his words weren't meant for you at all.

"Zeff!”

Your eyes expanded in surprise as you watched Mari greeting the chef with the familiarity of an old friend. Her hands comfortably encased his larger one in a warm clasp. "Thank you for making time for us. I know how busy you can be.”

Wait, what?

"Do you remember my friend, Y/N?”

To say that you were utterly shocked would be an understatement. What sort of joke had you wandered into?

"Aye. I hope you're faring well now.”

Despite your attempts to regain your voice, you could only nod in response.

"She has something to discuss with you," Mari interjected. "But it would be best to have the conversation privately, just between the two of you.”

Zeff hummed in understanding. "I suppose I can take a minute off.”

Your blood turned icy as the pieces fell into place. The effortless way Mari had secured a table when others had to wait weeks in line, her overbearing confidence about your hiring request - it all suddenly made sense given how well-acquainted she was with the person in charge.

A part of you felt betrayed, as if you had been deceived right from the start.

Mari called out your name, noticing your complexion turning pale. This time, your reaction had nothing to do with your previous anxiety, which had now completely dissipated and been replaced by a newfound determination to uncover more.

"I apologize, but... you owe me some explanations.”

Zeff placed his hands on either side of his waist, chuckling with amusement. "You didn't mention it to her, ey?”

Mari grinned like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Oopsie.”

"Don't give me an 'oopsie' now, this isn't something to be taken lightly.”

"Listen, we will talk about it later, I promise. For now, just go with Zeff and do what you need to do.”

Now, in light of your discovery, your skepticism had greatly deepened. Would he even consider hiring you based on your own merits, or were things already prearranged, again?

Not wanting your journey to have been entirely futile, you eventually resolved to engage in conversation with the head chef.

"Fine. But don't think you're off the hook so easily.”

Mari remained as calm and confident as ever, not perceiving your warning as particularly grave.

Shifting her focus back to the mustachioed man, she offered an innocent smile. "She's more feisty than she looks.”

Zeff was a far cry from the serious former pirate you remembered. Whether this change was a result of Mari's visit or merely a buoyed spirit, you couldn't really tell.

"I'll keep that in mind," He said with a hearty chuckle. “Come on, this way.”

As he pivoted to guide you to a more secluded area, Mari offered a gentle shove on your back and flashed two thumbs up. Despite her encouragement, uncertainty lingered in you as you quietly followed the the man with the pegged leg towards the known environment of his office.

The chef settled comfortably into the chair behind his desk, courteously offering the one in front of him for you. As you sat down, you played with your fingers, unsure about how to initiate the dialogue.

Eventually, you posed the most straightforward question that came to mind.

"May I inquire about how you know my friend, sir?”

Zeff grasped his long white hat, setting it delicately on the table and revealing his tousled blond short hair. "Ah, that's quite a story that she might want to share with you herself.”

You arched an eyebrow with no intention of backing down, anticipating further explanation.

He sighed deeply, then confessed, "I knew her father, a long time ago.”

From your recollections, the man had met a tragic end in a maritime accident when Mari was but a child, the specifics of which she had never wished to divulge. By the time you first encountered her, he was already gone. She consistently spoke of him as a hero she aimed to emulate - a figure of strong morality and impressive fighting prowess.

It wasn’t hard for you to grasp the truth behind what she hadn't disclosed.

Delving deeper into it, you asked, "He was a pirate, wasn’t he?"

“….Aye.”

Considering her personality and her typical approach to handling things, it indeed provided a believable explanation.

And then, you could see a wave of melancholy wash over Zeff's features.

"She's a good kid," he continued. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree”

Regrettably, you couldn't entirely concur with that sentiment. "Sometimes it does, but that's a different story.”

Zeff watched you with intense scrutiny, observing as you lowered and shook your head in an attempt to dispel unwanted memories.

"Did you want to ask me something?”

Tightening your grip on your knees, you confirmed. “I do, sir.”

“Go on, then.”

It seemed that Mari hadn't actually revealed your intentions to the chef. Either that, or he was exceptionally good at concealing it.

"Firstly, I wanted to sincerely apologize again for the actions of my ex-fiancé during our last visit.”

"Nah, you shouldn't be the one apologizing," he emphasized.

"I accompanied him here, so it falls on me. I wanted to ask if there's any way I could make amends for the ruined food and damages.”

Zeff pondered your question, stroking the top of his big mustache. “What do you have in mind?”

You swallowed your nervousness, doing your best to articulate a suitable proposal without stumbling over your words.

"Is there any possibility that I could.... work here?”

Just as anticipated, a look of surprise slightly enlarged his eyes. "You want to work in my restaurant?”

"For as long as you deem appropriate. I don't have much to offer, but I could... maybe undertake cleaning duties? Wash the dishes? Things like that. I don’t require any compensation.”

When he persisted in his silence, you were consumed with apprehension that he might belittle you. What could a girl like you, primarily groomed to appear attractive and agreeable to affluent men, possibly contribute to a restaurant like his?

"I understand that I'm not exactly an ideal candidate. My cooking skills are quite basic, and I don't have any standout abilities that would make me a valuable addition to your team.”

He paid careful attention, noting how your eyes sparkled with unwavering conviction.

"But I'm a quick learner, and I'm really skilled at polishing things.”

"Why here? Why the Baratie?”

His interest was sincere, and it was highly probable that Zeff was trying to understand you and your motivations.

“If you want to work for me because of what that worthless excuse of a man did, don't bother.”

How could you possibly explain to him the depth of your interest, proving that it extended way beyond merely settling a debt?

As per Mari's advice, the most advantageous way to secure the job was to communicate your thoughts openly and honestly. Your brightest prospect of success stemmed from utilizing your innate strengths and maintaining your true self.

You had spent your entire life in pretense, masquerading as someone you never wanted to become.

"Sir, may I speak frankly?”

“Please do.”

And surely, Zeff was not a man to be readily influenced by insincere proclamations.

"I genuinely like it here. I spent an entire evening in your kitchen, and I was impressed by the passion and teamwork of your employees," you expressed. "From a young age, I was instructed to be assertive in all aspects of my life, all in the pursuit of finding a suitable husband who could provide political advantages for my parents.”

A large, unpleasant lump was developing in your throat, but you chose to disregard it.

“I had no voice in any decision, not once was I allowed to choose my own path. I was constantly reminded that I held no value on my own, and unfortunately, I started to believe it.”

The man’s gaze softened and his shoulders eased.

"For once, I want to choose for myself, to prove that I am more than what they led me to convince myself of.”

"Prove to whom, to them?”

“To myself.”

Suddenly, you felt a surge of tenacity that you never thought you could summon, realizing you had nothing left to lose.

"I'm not a chef, nor am I an experienced waitress. All I'm asking for is a chance, without anyone else dictate who I am.”

A silence descended between you two. Zeff's expression transformed to one of seriousness and focus, his eyes narrowing. The fact that he didn't dismiss you outright and was prepared to pause his work to listen was a hopeful sign. However, the impact of your words was still uncertain.

Eventually, he reacted with a pleased "hah!", evidently valuing your honest admission.

“Just so we’re clear,” he started, “Working here won’t be easy.”

"I'm not expecting it to be, sir.”

"We rise early, and the kitchen needs to be operational at all times.”

“Naturally.”

You were not one to oversleep or shirk your responsibilities anyway.

"It can turn into a real mess, with many dishes and pans to scrub.”

"I'm accustomed to putting a lot of elbow grease.”

The more you answered, the more satisfied he seemed. He sported a friendly and gentle smile, complemented by his long, twisted mustache.

"If you work, you get paid. You don’t owe me anything. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

His intentions were unequivocally transparent, leaving no margin for error. However, despite the apparent success of your request, your mind was struggling to process it.

“And just another thing,” he uttered. “Whatever is happening between you and the Little Eggplant, it needs to stay out of my kitchen.”

Though he didn't seem noticeably irritated, the mere mention of Sanji was enough to instantly set you on edge.

"Oh... no, I don't.... we... I mean, there’s nothing going on.”

With a subtle smirk, Zeff let out a muffled chuckle before picking up his hat and resettling it on his head. "You start tomorrow morning, be ready at dawn. ”

You stared at him, mouth wide open in sheer incredulity, letting his words sink in. “Wait, that’s it?”

"I thought you wanted the job.”

"I do! It's just... I wasn't expecting you would accept.”

Zeff took a deep breath and released it with a prolonged exhalation. “You are asking me, and I don’t see any compelling reason to decline.”

"You… you’re not doing this because of Mari, right?”

“If you’re under the impression that I would hire you based on someone else’s endorsement, you are mistaken.”

You were at a loss for words to express your feelings. Relief, joy, and excitement all coursed through you simultaneously.

"I see something in you. They may have led you to believe otherwise, but whoever fed you that crap was blinded by their ignorance.”

"I... thank you, sir.”

Your parents overlooked your value despite your numerous attempts to prove yourself. How could he recognize it so effortlessly, just through that brief narrative of your life?

From everything Sanji had shared with you about the head chef, you had anticipated him to be somewhat difficult to engage with. In reality, he surpassed all your expectations, proving to be a man of depth and remarkable insight.

As Zeff rose, steadying himself on his foot and peg, you followed his lead. The walk to the dining room had an unreal quality, as if you were moving within a bubble, wrestling with something that verged on being a product of your imagination.

Yet, it was as real as it could possibly be.

Zeff offered one last piece of advice, pledging to formally introduce you to the staff by day's end. Mari, in response, immediately wrapped her arms around you, celebrating your success and assuring her old friend that he would never regret bringing you on board.

As the chef left to return to his responsibilities, Sanji reappeared, throwing inquisitive glances your way as Mari energetically shook your hands, her fingers entwined with yours. Part of you pondered if it would be best to keep it a secret until the last possible moment, but you could sense his curiosity gnawing at him.

Considering the fact that you had unexpectedly returned only to request a meeting with his boss, you couldn't really find fault with it.

With a single nod of her head, your friend granted you the honor of announcing the news, stepping aside and moving back to the table. You felt unready and unsure of his potential reaction. The thought of him being disappointed, possibly even losing interest in you, was creating a distressing knot in your stomach.

Regardless, there was no turning back for you, and you were committed to see it through to the end.

"Well, you see, starting from tomorrow, we're going to be coworkers.”

There it was, you had dropped the bombshell right in front of him. Your breath hitched again as you waited, watching his facial expression transform from confusion, to surprise, and then to quiet contemplation. After that initial moment of astonishment, his bright and loving smile re-emerged.

"Now I have an additional reason to fulfill my duty. Welcome to the Baratie, Y/N.”

Needless to say, the urge to hug him once more was irresistible. Your arms encircled his neck as you rose on your toes. It was a spontaneous act, carried out without much deliberation, fueled by your escalating emotions.

And your heart skipped a beat when he returned the gesture, tenderly supporting your back and soothingly caressing it with his hands.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 5 (coming soon) ->

#one piece liveaction #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #opla fanfiction

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