#(answered || astrid)

[ink-and-dagger]

What if Astrid find a pic of young Silco by accident hehhehehehhehehehehhe

Snapshot

A Drink With Me ficlet

870 words || Established relationship || Silco x Astrid (but can be read as gen f!reader) || SFW but suggestive || MDNI

“Oh my Gods.”

“What?”

“Oh. My Gods.”

Time has stripped the photograph between your fingers of its glossy sheen and has left the edges blunt and frayed, but you would recognise those features anywhere; no less sharp nor striking through the faded sepia.

“This is you.”

It had slipped from between two ledgers as you’d perused Silco’s bookshelves – an activity more to entertain your idle hands than a genuine search for reading material. The image itself is simple and candid: A young man, seemingly oblivious to the fact his portrait is being taken, sat at a familiar bar, with eyes downcast toward a spread of papers.

That same man looks up at you now from a very similar spread of papers. “What is?”

“This.” You drift over to his desk and perch on its edge, all the while unable to tear your gaze from the photo in your hands. The pitch dark hair swept back into a low bun. The familiar strays – the same ones that even now will always be the first to escape any styling under the combing of agitated fingers – falling forward into his face, only far longer and thicker than you’re used to. His skin, unblemished and smooth, save for the chronic furrow between his brows – etched there long before time and tragedy ravaged the rest.

Silco hums absently; an indication that he acknowledges your discovery but finds little interest in it. You can imagine the man in the photograph making the exact same noise, were someone to distract him from his paperwork for a reason he deemed benign. You flip the photo over. No date.

“How old are you here?”

Silco exhales through his nose, places his pen down with a pointed clack, and extends his hand wordlessly toward you.

“Hah! Do you think I’m wet behind the ears?” you hold the photograph out of his reach, “You can tell just fine from over there thank you very much.”

He cuts you a scathing glance, before leaning forward in his chair with a foreboding creak to peer more closely at the image. His scarred lips purse slightly in thought.

“Mid–late twenties. I can’t say for certain.”

“You were hot.”

“Were?”

“Were and are,” you coo, reclining backwards over the desk into his space, one elbow pitched on his paperwork to hold your weight whilst you flap the photograph in front of his face, “Can I keep this?”

“For what reason?”

“Dirty ones.”

“Hardly necessary,” Silco says, the very corner of his mouth creasing upwards as he catches your wrist to halt your photo-flapping, “You have access to the real thing.”

“True, true, and you can be sure I’ll continue taking advantage of that.” You grin, shoving your captured, photo-wielding arm a little closer to him in emphasis, “But right now I’m talking about some alone time with this guy.”

Silco scoffs under his breath and releases your wrist. You twist onto your front, weight propped on both elbows as you admire the photograph in your grip. You trace a finger down the slender throat of the man in the photo, over the generous wedge of chest exposed by his open crimson collar.

“D’you think he’d notice me? If I came into that bar?”

“Oh I’m certain he would.”

“Yeah?” You lift your gaze from the man in the photo to the one before you – as equally breathtaking. More so. You catch your lower lip between your teeth. “What line would he use?”

Silco hums, low and thoughtful, leaning forward in his chair, closing in on your space. He picks up his abandoned pen, briefly twirling the implement until it’s poised between his elegant fingers like a cigarette. Nib safely facing his own palm.

“After downing the dregs of his drink for courage... he would have approached you.”

With sensual tenderness, he brushes the barrel of his pen along your cheek, warmed metal against warmer skin. Catching at the curve of your jawline, and tracing over your pulse in a way that makes it fumble a beat.

“Cast his gaze over each of your pretty, pretty features. One by one,” he murmurs, slowly drawing the end of the pen down your jugular, down the slope of your collar bone, to leisurely trail through the cut of your cleavage. The corner of your mouth hooks up. The warmth low in your belly coils a little tighter.

“He would have leaned in close,” Silco whispers, demonstrating just so, “Close enough that you’d almost taste the whiskey on his breath.”

Blunt metal drags a purposeful line up your throat, and your lips part softly as he tilts your face toward his with the barrel of his pen flat and firm beneath your chin.

“And asked you – very nicely – to stop leaning on his paperwork.”

You press your tongue against the inside of your cheek while Silco’s dual eyes sizzle with smug mirth. It’d be unthinkable, really – to forfeit either one for the sake of a matching pair.

You straighten and push off his desk, hips swaying as you saunter over to the bedroom with the photograph in hand.

“Well,” you say, pausing in the threshold and turning to him with a smirk, “If you need us, you know where we’ll be.”

[aardvaark]

im so glad that we never get a clear picture of sophie’s background in leverage & i hope we never do. however i also really like making up various, often conflicting backstories for her in my head. perhaps they’re all backstories for an alias of hers, ones she laid to rest back in season two.

[herefortheships]

Betel and Lydia's next deal should go like:

"I promised myself I wouldn't do this again, but I really need your help. And I swear that this time I actually will-"

"I want a picture. Of you. Last one I got is scratched all to hell and needed updating anyway. Not too much to ask is it? A new picture of my boo?"

"You had a...? Actually, never mind. Deal."

*some time later*

"Here." *hands him the picture*

"Oh wow, you actually paid! We're making real progress!"

*looks at it* *eyes bug out, tongue lolls out, he gives a wolf-whistle*

"HOLY FUCKING MOLY! Babes. Babes, I meant for my desk! Like a portrait pic! A safe-for-work photograph of your face. AndokIwashopingforsomecleavage but, but this is-"

"Um, well I-" *she tries to snatch it back*

"Oh, nononononono, I am keeping this!"

This was brought to you by my frustration that Betelgeuse never gets paid by Lydia. Cause he asked too much too soon of her. So he should ask for something more reasonable and get overpaid at least once. In the spirit of fairness and all that.

Ahh! I love this 😂✨

Talking about his photo being smashed, I hope Betelgeuse got to pick up an updated photo of Lydia at some point in the movie while he was loose. Maybe when he went away for a bit during their team-up. It's sad if Delores ruined his framed photo and he can't have a new one. He can always fix it, but it'd be nice if he got a new one.

[lilaccatholic]

I am once again thinking about the reluctant ruler whose arc justly and correctly includes assuming the throne and taking responsibility for the people set before them

[saturnniidae]

oddly specific httyd headcanons part 2?

ABSOLUTELY.

Warning; Most of these are about Hiccup and Astrid bc theyre my blorbos ultimate so sorry in advance if you were hoping for more abt the other riders.

I think Hiccup snorts when he laughs. Like really laughs, not just sarcastic chuckles (annual event). Also his voice is prone to cracking when he giggles.

Astrid is very strict about schedules/routines and finds them comforting. Sudden changes in plans make her upset but considering the nature of battle, it's something she's trained herself to better deal with (doesn't mean she's not gonna go scream into her pillow and throw things later)

She often has to remind Hiccup to eat because he gets so focused on tasks he forgets (average adhd grindset), and she's trying so hard to get Hiccup into having a better routine that focuses on him rather than just his scheduled dragon feeding and grooming regimen. It's a work in progress.

Astrid has a policy on never apologizing for things unless she caused them or can do something to help. To her it makes no sense to say 'im sorry' for something you've had no hand in, and pity is worth nothing. (Autistic ass mindset). She also is so awkward when it comes to comforting people, her face looks like she's constipated when she's concerned and often the best you'll get is an awkward pat on the back or hug (insane to me that in canon she's the 'motivational words gf' when that is So not accurate)

Hiccup gets the worst acne ever when he's on his period, he just has the vibes of someone who would yknow

Hiccup kind of hates communal meals in the great hall. The overlapping noises of so many people talking at once, cutlery scraping on plates, chewing, and benches scraping against the ground is actual torture. He much prefers the calmer atmosphere of dinners on Dragon's Edge

Hiccup would be the type of person to eat shit like sardines and olives on pizza but otherwise be a picky eater I think. Canonically Berks food tastes like shit, so the only thing he likes eating there is the fish. (The food they make on the Edge is so significantly better oh my god)

Hiccup not only snores absurdly loud (he gets it from stoick), but also talks in his sleep. Like fully talks. sometimes Astrid will humor him and respond. It scared the absolute shit out of her the first time they slept in the same room though

Fishlegs also talks and even walks in his sleep sometimes. He's been found wandering Dragon's Edge at night before

The first time Hiccup called Astrid 'M'lady' her face did a weird twitching thing and he was so worried he pissed her off but she was actually trying to figure out how to respond without showing how emotional it made her (him calling her that hits so much harder when you hc them as t4t, also I feel like Astrid's famliy just aren't the kind of people who often use terms of endearment like that)

Hiccup and Astrids first few kisses were actually like, really bad. A mess of their teeth clacking against each other and also horribly awkward since, yknow, they're kids. The first kiss Hiccup initiated he was so nervous he missed Astrid's mouth and had to try again 😭

Funnily enough, despite how eager he was to belive in mythical creatures as a child, Hiccups never been a particularly religious/faithful person and that just became more apparent after the events of When Lightning Strikes (he was So fed up)

Hiccup has that weird combo of being horribly touch starved (being isolated and unintentionally emotionally neglected for most of ur childhood does that) and also not being a huge fan of physical affection from others if he's not the one initating it. When people he's not already super comfortable with touch him or like hug him he freezes up like a deer in headlights

Hiccup learnt to speak French and Latin through frequent interactions with traders that came to Berk when he was younger, he liked hearing their stories and imaging going places far, far away from Berk (pre-httyd Era when he was still a social pariah) and despite his job at the smithy, Hiccup still had significantly more free time than his peers due to lack of training so he had to find other ways to entertain himself.

[cheerleaderman]

I LOVE MY SON

Little Astrid made you a drawing

IANNNNNNNNN THIS IS AN ATTACK

ASTRIDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD LOOK AT HIM SMILING 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

HAVE YOU SEEN MY SON? NOW YOU HAVE!,!!

BEAUTIFUL GORGEOUS BOY 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 THE BACKGROUND PINK TO BLUE IS SO PRETTY

JHBY4RWatfvuuho8yrsqh

* FALLS TO THE FLOOR DRAMATICALLY* PEOPLE HAVE DIED -> AND ITS A PICTURE OF ASTRID

I need to draw this with Jarid eventually and Diya

[chicinlicin]

drawn to shadow

[essektheylyss]

Here's the thing. Yes of course I am very excited that there is more of my boy tonight. But what I am MOST excited about is that we are finally getting ASSEMBLY POLITICS LORE THAT I HAVE BEEN ASKING ABOUT FOR A YEAR AND A HALF

[fell-e]

LMFAO NOT THE CARDIAC ARREST CAUSED BY SYDER'S JAMIL

@anbaisai THIS IS YOUR🫵 FAULT

[spacenintendogs]

Stormfly stealing Astrid's axe

it's a game they play <3

[autumnalfallingleaves]

Happy halloweeeeeen!!! trick or treat 🎃 ‼️‼️

Happy Halloween! Here's a treat!

please do not repost my art

[pjo-tvs-version]

thought on percabeth being a 'comes up with the ideas x executes them' trope 🤔

A hundred percent yess!!!! And it goes both ways. Percy has executed a bunch of Annabeth's crazy ideas. But even Annabeth has gone along with a few of Percy's improvised masterpieces.

On a side note, this is soo hiccstrid coded.

[demisexualemmaswan]

wait

I’ve been thinking about the webbing that goes down Imogen’s arms and the residuum runes carved into the Blumentrio and

It would NOT surprise me if Trent got those designs from Ludinus or Ludinus supported Trent in that research

…MATTHOLOMEW. MATTHOLOMEW MERCER LET ME INSIDE YOUR BRAIN.

[herefortheships]

You want another movie 3 speculation?

Ok, so I firmly believe that Lydia's dream at the end points to her subconscious worry that Betelgeuse might move on from her (and MacArthur Park is a song about moving on as best as you can after losing True Love) and target Astrid. With a compounding, and imo deeply fascinating, worry that her daughter (whom the movie/Delia seems to have cast as being very similar to Lydia, though personally I don't see it cause she seems too normal) might be happy with that. And I think that the bed-sharing might've been her brain - or B himself - pointing out the solution to that worry: Just give tf in and marry him already.

As an aside, a lot of Youtube synopses of that movie have AI-generated thumbnails of Betelgeuse threateningly/creepily hovering over Astrid, even though they barely interacted. Apparently lots if people's minds went there, at least for the sake of clickbait. Ffs, a guy tries to marry a teenager ONE time...

Anyway I think it would be hilarious if in movie 3 Lydia gets into trouble and Astrid calls on Betelgeuse for help, telling him she'll pay whatever he wants if only he saves her last remaing parent/family member, and he just goes: "Can you put in a good word with your Mom for me? Like, really talk me up. I didn't make the greatest first impression, and there were misunderstandings, and I don't think I'll have a shot if she thinks you'd disapprove" " I do disapprove!" "Well, just focus on the positives! Awesome powers, saved your life, has a massive di-... actually, forget about that last one. I mean, it's true, but wouldn't be helpful if you mentioned it."

So then they save Lydia, who'd be deeply, deeply worried bc her daughter seems to think B is a pretty cool guy actually, a woman could do worse for a husband. He's fun, he's helpful, he saved them, there's worse-looking dead people. So naturally, she'd find Betelgeuse and be like "If I marry you, will you leave her alone?" ...j/k, she'd try to exorcise him. We need spunky!Lydia back. She may be kind, but there are limits.

Mid-exorcism, Astrid clears up the misunderstanding about what sort of deal she's under, that he saved Lydia because he loves Lydia and without asking for anything bad in return, and points out that her deal didn't make her lie about B's good points. Lydia stops the exorcism via last-minute Green Card marriage. Betelgeuse does a whole triumphant, manic spiel about looking forward to moving in and starting married life. But first he's got to fetch some of his stuff (hc that he has just... so many clothes in an infinite magical wardrope somewhere). He draws a door with chalk, knocks, steps through. Walks slowly through the long, uneven hallway. Turns around to look back. Astrid whispers "If you took a step in there right now..." (Code 699) and Lydia goes "Yeah I know. [then, much louder] C'mon, let's ready the guest bedroom." *

We see Betelgeuse break out into a happy smile for a sec before the door slams shut.

*I don't think it would be believable if a movie ended with them being in passionate sappy Gomez-and-Morticia love. But there's no way that Betelgeuse³ will end without Lydia agreeing to keep him around. On a trial basis. With the understanding that she has the means to get rid of him if he misbehaves too much (he'll misbehave just the right amount).

It's an interesting headcanon that Lydia might have a subconscious fear about Betelgeuse making a move on Astrid. I've seen a few people mention it as well. It wouldn't be too far off to get to that conclusion, either, because of Lydia's past experience. Betelgeuse also had that flyer up in the attic just lying around. We as the audience know he likely put it out there for Lydia to find, because we saw him staring at her photo and talking to Bob earlier about how he's in a distant relationship with Lydia. We saw him trying to make contact and feeling triumphant because she might have finally noticed him that last time.

But Lydia doesn't have access to that info.; only we as the audience are privy to who Betelgeuse is actually after and how dead set he is on it, too. Only Lydia is the object of Betelgeuse's desires, even after thirty years. It wouldn't be a stretch to conclude that Lydia might fear Betelgeuse would go after her daughter, because at first she didn’t know what Betelgeuse was truly after; for all she knew, he’s still just looking for a way to get out and do evil mischief on the world of the living or whatever she thinks will happen if he’s out.

I personally don't think this is a fear she took with her at the end of the film, though. I think she has it clear now how Betelgeuse feels about her, and that he wouldn’t do something to her daughter. She might have thought it was a pretense before, or him being totally crazy, but after that dance mid-air, there's no way she doesn't know how he feels.

I think Babyjuice coming out of Astrid was just Betelgeuse turning Lydia's dream into a nightmare; a prank letting her know he hasn't left and he isn't planning on leaving her (he even thought it was strange himself lol). But yes, Lydia keeping a lingering fear about Betelgeuse going for Astrid is a solid headcanon as well, though it’s not my interpretation.

I know there are edits of Astrid wearing wedding clothes and Betelgeuse being creepy with her, but many of those were created before the movie was out, by people who thought the movie would be about Betelgeuse going after Astrid.

About Astrid putting up a good word for Betelgeuse with Lydia, that would be part of my dream-come-true story for Beetlejuice 3. I just want to see them explore Betelgeuse and Astrid's relationship as stepfather and stepdaughter. I think they'd get along great. As I've said before, Astrid hasn't really met Betelgeuse yet; she only knows two things about him: according to her mom, he's bad news. And yet, he helped save her life, and all it was going to cost was her mom marrying him and not being able to say his name (though he's totally chill with her calling him her "dad", which I totally love and will always bring it up 😂💜).

I wish the movie will end with Lydia and Betelgeuse being finally married, or at least together in love, but I'll accept them not getting married as well, as long as they’re on the way there as friends who may fall in love, and Lydia doesn't end up banishing him yet again or squirming out of another marriage deal. That'd be repetitive at that point. As for Betelgeuse being banished forever or destroyed, that will totally never happen; Tim, Michael, and especially the WB wouldn't allow that to happen. Not only do Tim and Michael love Betelgeuse, he's also a money-maker and widely beloved character for the WB, so it'd be dumb for them to end the movie with Betelgeuse being sent away forever or perma-killed.

To end my ramblings, I totally love the idea of Astrid and Betelgeuse working together in the next one and Astrid helping her mom see the good in him/putting a good word in for him. That'd be fun to watch.

I do have a feeling lately that if the do make the third part (which is looking more likely every day), they will be taking it in the direction of establishing Lydia, Betelgeuse, and Astrid as a family. I'm getting that vibe because I've seen an official promo TikTok about Astrid's family being strange, which kinda hints at Lydia and Betelgeuse being Astrid's family/her parents. Not to mention, the DVD cover photo has those three front and center, instead of having something like Betelgeuse big in the middle and the Deetz women all together below or something like that; a choice was made to have Lydia, Betelgeuse, and Astrid together front and center. Those little details have me like 👀, I'm getting a vibe that we're being led to see them as a family. But don't take my words for fact, it's just what I'm observing.

Thank you for sending me your speculations! I love and appreciate exchanging ideas with everyone. 💚✨

[askthedragonriders]

Astrid, If you had to swap dragons with another member of the riders, who would u pick

After the day we'd switched dragons, it really had been a lot of fun flying with Hookfang. He's also probably the only one that delivers what Snotlout deserves. -Astrid

You still think my dragon is cool so... -Snotlout

Don't push it. -Astrid

[ink-and-dagger]

I was finally able to read DWM and I love it (I haven't finished it entirely yet) but I'm on the part where Astrid or we get drunk and there is a mention of strip poker and I was wondering if like in alternative universe, we do it.

You dont have to do the request but I still just wanna say THANK YOU FOR WRITING DRINK WITH ME AND IVE BEEN TRYING TO READ IT FOR A WHILE BUT I DIDNT HAVE A ARCHIVE ACC YET and it is so amazing and I don't regret it one bit.

LOVE YOU

Meep moop you’re too sweet 🥺 Thank you so much for your kind words, and I’m glad it was worth the wait! I hope the rest lives up to your expectations 💜

FUNNILY ENOUGH, my dear one, I have had a draft of this exact AU just sitting in my phone notes for well over a year. Another anon sent in the request not long after that chapter was first published. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever work on it any more than I already have, so… here you go. It’s unfinished, unedited, copied straight from my phone notes and rougher than an alligator’s asshole. But I hope it at least gives you some idea of how things might have gone down.

A/N I don’t understand how to play poker and refuse to learn so don’t come for me on accuracy

DRINK WITH ME - STRIP POKER AU ♠️♦️

SFW just lots of flirting || MDNI || Unedited

You’re surprised you didn’t think of it first.

You’re even more surprised that he actually suggests it.

“How do you feel about upping the stakes?” The sly curl of Silco’s lips doesn’t match the blasé cadence of his question.

“You don’t have enough money already? You want to swindle a lowly bartender out of her meagre savings?”

“At the rate I’m paying you? You’re the one swindling me,” he counters breezily, “But no. I was thinking of a different sort of collateral.”

Your eyebrow arches, “And what collateral might that be?”

“Clothing.”

That smirk widens. His eyes are fixed on you, and not on the cards he shuffles; precise, dexterous fingers making quick work of the deck. Honestly, is there anything the man can’t make look seductive? You’ve never been more jealous of an inanimate object in your life.

Your laugh comes out a little louder than intended, thanks to the alcohol which clouds your head, “You want to play strip poker?”

“I do.”

“It’s a little unfair don’t you think? Considering you’re wearing more clothes than a prudish piltie gentlewoman while I only have my top and trousers?”

“Seems perfectly fair to me.”

You scoff, “How so?”

“You forced me to play your ridiculous game,” he answers smoothly, “I think it only fair you play mine.”

You suck your teeth, and his smirk widens as he sends the cards flying between his two palms in a cheap, ostentatious trick that does nothing to actually shuffle them.

You cross your arms and sniff haughtily, “I’ll need a show of good faith.”

Silco takes his time; loosening the knot of his tie, pulling the silken fabric from beneath his collar, and hanging it neatly over the back of the sofa. Your own lips curl slowly upwards as you enjoy the show. And you’re suddenly warm enough that the idea of losing a few items of clothing doesn’t sound so bad.

“Will that suffice?”

“Let’s play,” you purr.

You keep your face as blank as possible as you look at the flush in your hand.

All your jewellery sits in a neat golden pile on the table, and is the only reason you’re not stark naked by now.

You’d expected Silco to complain when you’d lost the first hand and had pointedly removed a single hoop earring. But he hadn’t. He’d sat perfectly serenely while his gaze darted over you; cataloguing how many pieces of jewellery you were wearing, and calculating how many hands he’d need to win to get to the good stuff.

The fact that he hadn’t looked fazed in the least should have been your first clue. The bastard is good at poker. Or very, very lucky.

Along with your jewellery, you’re also missing both shoes and socks. Leaving you only with main items of clothing left. But you’ve been granted a reprieve in the form of a winning streak. The last few rounds have gifted you with Silco’s boots and both his socks. And, unless he’s hiding something you can’t see, you’re about to win an exquisitely tailored waistcoat.

He places down his cards and you whoop loudly, fanning your superior hand out next to his.

“Take it off,” you grin, reclining expectantly back against the sofa arm.

Again, he looks suspiciously calm as his begins unfastening the golden clasps on his vest.

You sway your head from side-to-side and begin singing under your breath; the corny kind of background music you find in low-budget pornos played in the dodgy, back-alley picture houses that litter the Lanes.

“Bow-chicka-wha—“

“Stop that.”

You watch his fingers work open the two straps that cinch his waist so nicely.

“I’ve always wondered how you get out of that thing.”

The words slip out before you’ve fully considered the connotation of them. The tips of your ears burn when Silco pauses, and raises his gaze to yours.

He takes a moment before answering, “It’s easier than it looks.”

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“Good to know.”

His dual-eyes remain locked with yours as he shrugs out of the vest and hangs it off the back of the sofa along with his tie.

Silco deals again.

The round ends quickly. Along with your winning streak.

You stare at your shitty hand and suck your teeth. When you look up from the cards, you’re greeted with an understated expression of pure evil.

You weigh your options.

Although currently tucked into your waistband; the shirt you’re wearing today is fairly long.

So you opt for trousers.

You untuck your shirt so that it protects at least a little of your modesty, and carefully wiggle out of your trousers whilst remaining seated. Silco’s eyes glint like the edge of a blade, and you can feel their razor point trace a line from your feet, all the way up to your thighs.

“Never seen a bit of leg before?”

“Never a pair quite so fine.”

You snort a laugh, and make a show of crossing one over the other, “Quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t respond, merely smirks while he shuffles, before dealing with just a touch too much enthusiasm.

You’re once again left with a shitty hand. And sigh to yourself when Silco fans out four of a kind.

He looks positively gleeful.

Well. At least you wore a bra today. One of your nicer ones that matches your underwear too, thank the Eternals. And if you’re going down, might as well make a show of it. You loosen your shirt fastenings — relishing the thrum of Silco’s impatience with how slow you do so, despite his outward appearance being the picture of composed grace.

The material parts and slinks off your shoulders. And you take entirely too much satisfaction in the swell of Silco’s pupils.

You shrug out of it entirely, dropping it next to your trousers on the floor, and arrange yourself into a more flattering pose on the sofa facing him; legs tucked to the side, and your elbow upon the back of the sofa, enabling you to lean casually in a way that lengthens your body.

He absently shuffles the deck as he rakes his gaze over every inch of you.

You tut and hold out your hand, “If you’re too distracted to deal, then let me. I’m convinced you’re cheating anyway.”

“I’m not cheating,” he replies smoothly, but places the deck in your waiting hand regardless, “You have the worst poker face I’ve ever witnessed in my life.”

You smirk as you shuffle the cards; lacking Silco’s finesse.

“In that case, I might actually stand a chance of winning now. Seeing as you can’t keep your eyes off my tits.”

His gaze flicks up to meet yours, and his smirk widens at the same time yours does.

You deal.

And keep your triumph to yourself up until the moment Silco shows his hand.

“Full House babyyy,” you jeer, laying your cards down atop his.

You reach for your drink, taking a smug sip at the subtle tightening of Silco’s jaw. To his credit, he dutifully untucks his shirt from his trousers and begins a slow descent down the front with his fingers.

Your heart beats faster, spurred by anticipation and booze.

He parts the material.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!!”

Silco merely smiles at your outrage – small and banal – as he shrugs out of the maroon fabric, leaving him in a fitted black undervest.

“No fair. I demand compensation. You owe me nipples.”

“I owe you nothing.”

“Just one then.”

“No.”

“Come on. Quick flash.”

“How about I allow you to deal again? That’s more than fair.”

You grumble under your breath, snatching and shuffling the cards with a touch too much force.

And of course you lose the hand.

You glare at Silco.

“Deck’s rigged.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Is.”

“Sweetheart,” Silco croons emphatically, all at once managing to sound sincere, patronising, and suggestive, “Even a man such as myself has his morals. I don’t cheat at cards, and I always keep my word.” His eyes sharpen, “Question is, do you always keep yours? You agreed to play, after all.”

You’re certain that the fire beneath your skin is flickering openly in your gaze.

He reclines comfortably back and waits.

You’re certain he must be able to see the way your pulse races beneath your jawline. Perhaps even the urgent drum of your heart against your exposed ribcage. Excitement? Embarrassment? You don’t know, and you’d rather not cross examine yourself for the answer.

Crossing one arm over your chest, you reach your other behind your back and unfasten your bra. You slip it out from beneath your forearm and discard it to the floor, before crossing the other arm across your chest to cover as much as you can from him.

Silco’s ruined eye glows like stoked coal, sinful mouth curled in shameless victory.

“Would you like to shuffle, or shall I?”

Your hands may be otherwise occupied, but you still manage to poke your middle finger up over your crossed forearms well enough.

His chuckle reverberates in your bones, and you pray he doesn’t spot the goosebumps the sound raises across your thighs.

He shuffles and deals; leaving your cards stacked on the sofa just out of reach, and watches with no small amount of vulpine amusement as you glare at him, adjust your breasts to remain concealed behind a singular arm, and reach forward for your cards.

Straight Flush. Victory blooms fizzy and electric inside your chest, but you’re careful to keep it from travelling to your face.

You look up at Silco and find him utterly emotionless. You’ll give him that. His poker face is immaculate. You wonder if it will crack once he sees your nearly unbeatable hand.

You lay down the cards with a smirk.

He meets your gaze.

And lays his own down.

You feel the blood drain from your face.

Royal Flush.

The smile that cuts his face is pure evil.

Silco’s eyes flick briefly down to your one remaining item of clothing. He extends his hand, silently, and waits patiently for his prize.