#Lower Downtown Wine Store

[lexa-griffins]

I know I haven't been keeping up with asks and due to probably not being able to write anything for while here's a short drabble of an idea I had ages ago and might never write.

Assassin Lexa x Target Clarke

--

You’re here to kill her. 

Your end goal is simply to terminate her, a job like all the others. You keep reminding yourself of your assignment, repeating it like a motto so it  never leaves your head. 

When she smiles you repeat it, a warning to yourself. When she wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you closer, biting your lip like it belongs to her. When she takes you on a date that always ends with you naked in her bed, panting and unable to differentiate the taste of her from the taste of you, you see it burnt into your brain.

Clarke’s not a play thing, she’s not a lover. She’s a target.

And she knows it.

She’s not stupid, not the way your briefing said she might be. There is some naïvety to her, that much is true, how she believes she can make the world a better place, her drive to help and be needed mildly infuriating but she is still as cunning and manipulative and deceiving as you are, keeping you on your toes everyday, like this is a game - like she has a chance to win.

Truth is, you enjoy it. That’s why you keep delaying putting a bullet to her head. That’s why you keep dressing up, the tight short dresses and expensive lingerie that remove all of the bright blue out of her eyes. That’s why you keep coming back as if you were addicted to her; her smell, her taste, her touch. She’s addicted to you too, it’s oh so obvious in the way she looks, touches, fucks you.

She knows how this will end. She knows you are as further as she’ll go in life, for when you’re gone from it, she will have no more life for her to live. 

Nevertheless, here you stand, in the living room of her uptown loft, the one she can somehow afford, despite working as family doctor in a clinic downtown and claiming she has nothing to do with her mother’s political career. The apartment is bare for the most part. She prefers spending her money on experiences you’ve come to learn; Michelin stars dinning, tropical vacations, luxurious hotels. You’ve gone with her on them all. 

It’s quite sad it has to end but you’ve gone on with this charade for long enough. The loaded gun weights on your hand, on your heart, but you both knew it would end up like this. You went out of your way to make sure she dies well, happy, loved, a luxury you have never granted to a target before.

A loud pop coming from the kitchen momentarily distracts you.

“One of these days I’m gonna lose a fucking eye trying to serve you wine!” She grunts from the kitchen, back turned to you as she tries her best to get as much wine inside the glass as she can manage.

You smile, despite yourself. She’s just a few drops past tipsy, her tone dropping lower and raspier, the slurred words adding just the right hint of adorableness to the eroticism of her voice. 

You raise the gun. 

You took her to dinner at the Greek place downtown, her favorite. You kept your hair loose because you know that’s how she likes it; she told you so the very first time she met you, only a couple exchanges into the conversation, your hair tied in an elegant bun at the time. You made a point of wearing the tight leather dress she commented on more than once when you walked hand in hand through the stores fronts, whispering all the sinful things she would like to do to you while you wear it. 

The barrel points to her head, quick and clean. 

In another life maybe you two could have been happy. You’d move in with her and in a one year time you’d propose, married by this date two years from now. You’d get a cat and then go off to travel the world with her, let her pamper you like she enjoys to do while you simply sit back and enjoy life. It sounds nice; perfect even.

But that life does not exist, and because you cannot afford what if’s, you take a deep breath.

She turns before your finger presses the trigger and you’re left with her staring at with a playful smirk, your gun pointed right at her forehead - a clear shot.

“Lexa, I’ve told you, no weapons in the apartment.” She’s nonchalant about it, does not even blink an eye at the gun you hold in your hand.

You adore her for that.

[spaciousreasoning]

Garlic & Recovery

This morning’s blood sugar was back up to 157. Too much hamburger and tots for lunch yesterday? Too many grapes and peanuts in the evening? Not enough walking? It can’t be the lower dose of metformin already, can it?

After the morning coffee and brain games we had oatmeal, but we were out of walnuts, which made it little more than mush.

Then we headed off to the Garlic Festival in downtown Eugene. There wasn’t much in the way of festivities. There were samples of several kinds of garlic for tasting, and some garlic blue cheese dip with crackers. And there was live musical entertainment.

The location, Down to Earth Home & Garden, also offered lots of kinds of garlic for sale, but the locally owned and operated store is still mainly in business to manufacture and distribute natural fertilizers, organic gardening products, kitchen wares and glass. We did purchase a couple of garlic-related items, though.

We met Nancy’s daughter and one of her friends at Down to Earth, and when we were done shopping we walked a couple of blocks to have some lunch at the Uumami Mediterranean food truck. It sits in front of the Oregon Wine Lab, which sells “local artisan brands.” There’s a covered area with picnic tables where we sat to eat.

After lunch, Nancy and I made a brief stop at the NA Unity Day, being held at a church south of downtown. I was able to introduce Nancy to several people, and bought a nice T-shirt celebrating the occasion. But we did not stick around for any of the activities still on the schedule.

We made our way back north to Trader Joe’s for a few items, including walnuts. The place was very crowded. Turns out the University of Oregon’s fall semester begins in another week, so it looks like students and their parents are busy getting supplies.

Nancy had enough walking around earlier in the day, so when we got home I went out alone for another walk and managed 2.17 miles in 40 minutes.

For dinner we had salad, some of the leftover spaghetti with sauce, and garlic toast. Then we watched the first episode of “Shogun,” followed by the third episode of the latest series of “Slow Horses,” and, finally, the last episode of the third series of “HPI.” There were just four episodes listed in the fourth series, but two more have recently been added, so the total may soon reach eight, which is the count for the first three series.

[winedispensary]

Wine Dispensary

Wine Dispensary wants to empower consumers to increase their personal alcohol beverage knowledge through tasting anything and everything. We want people to be able to explore their palates through our varied selection of wine, beer, and spirits, and cheers to those experiences in our Speakeasy.

Address: 1590 Little Raven St, #175, Denver, CO 80202, USA Phone: 303-832-8007 Website: https://winedispensary.com/

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 21 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Helloooooo my friends!!! You are going to love this one. I am so excited to hear what you think about it. Hold on to the fluff my loves. 

Read previous chapters of this fic here! 

warnings: food mention, alcohol consumption, discussion of pregnancy (not reader), mild sexual content

wordcount: 1.9k

“Okay, be honest. How many nights have you actually spent here since you moved in?” Emily asked, perched on the couch in your apartment, a glass of wine in her hand, a few empty bottles scattered between you, her, JJ and Garcia throughout your living room.

“That’s not fair! We spend way more nights out on cases than I do at Aaron’s place,” you laughed from across the living room in a lounge chair. 

“You know that’s not what she meant, peach.” Garcia chastises you, and JJ lets out a snort. 

“It doesn’t matter. Her non-answer is answer enough,” she points out, and you all laugh together.

“It’s a good thing,” Garcia reminds you. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Emily concurs. “We’re all glad you finally figured it out. I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to stand you making googly-eyes at him during active hostage situations.” 

“I did not!” You defended yourself with a smile, hiding your grin behind your fourth-- or was it your fifth?--- glass of wine. 

“You weren’t that bad. That’s not to say you were good at hiding it, because you weren’t,” JJ assures you. “But you held it together in the field.” 

“See, guys? And JJ’s sober.” You reminded the group.

“Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” Garcia offered her. 

“No, I’m alright,” JJ denied. “Actually, I offered to drive because…. Will and I are expecting!” She announces, and your faces all light up in unison. 

“Jayje!” Emily squeals, practically diving across the couch to wrap her friend in a hug. Penelope is right behind her, and you all take a moment to fuss over her and feel her non-existent bump before settling back into your own seats. 

“Oh, that means you and Hotch are next!” Garcia asserts drunkenly, and you tense, although you doubt any of the ladies noticed. 

“You think you’d want that? Kids, I mean?” Emily asks you, reclining back in her chair. 

“I don’t really know what Aaron wants,” you shrug the question off, averting your gaze to your wine glass. 

“That’s not what we asked,” JJ redirects you, apparently unwilling to accept a non-answer this time around. “What do you want?”

“With Aaron? More kids, definitely more.” You confess. “But Aaron’s older than I am. I don’t know if he feels like he’s done with that part of his life, you know?” 

“There’s no way. He loves Jack more than anything.” Emily concludes. “He seems like the type of guy who’d love to keep you barefoot and pregnant, even if it’s only because he’d get to pull you out of the field and keep you safe at home.” 

You let out a real laugh at Emily’s assertion. “Well, if he ever asks me about it, I’ll be sure to include that in my supporting arguments.” 

“Trust me-- they never feel done with being a dad. How do you think Will and I ended up with baby number two?” JJ reminds you with a wink. 

“Oh, you guys would just have the cutest babies. That dark Hotchner hair and your pretty eyes!” Garcia gushes, her lower lip starting to quiver. 

“Okay, and that’s my cue to get her home,” JJ chuckles, rising from her place on the couch. “Drink some water before you go to bed, okay? And maybe eat something, and take some advil?” 

“Okay, mom,” you rolled your eyes, standing up and giving your friends hugs goodbye as you said goodnight. 

“Hey, someday you’ll understand,” JJ tells you. “It will be sooner than you think, I’d bet.” She winks, and you roll your eyes at her again, smiling as you walked the three of them to the door.

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

“We’re going on a date tonight,” Aaron tells you as the two of you leave the office a few nights later. “Jess agreed to take Jack.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Am I forgetting something?” 

“Only that I love you, and as your boyfriend I reserve the right to take you out whenever I please,” He smirks, placing a hand on your back as he opens the door and helps you into the car. 

You roll your eyes, but you’re not quick enough to come up with some smart-ass comment, so you let him have the win as he drives you both home.

“Should I wear something specific?” You ask as the two of you walk into the house together.

“We’re gonna walk downtown a little, so something comfortable,” he advises. “Do you need to do anything other than change, or are you basically ready to go?” 

“I could use ten minutes to freshen up,” you tell him, and he nods with a smile. 

“Take your time, we’re not in any rush,” he says, kissing your temple and moving into the bedroom to change into something more comfortable as you step into the bathroom, adjusting your hair and makeup just a tad. When you come back into the bedroom, Aaron’s switched into jeans, so you do the same. You go to fish your wallet out of your work bag, and Aaron slaps at your wrist lightly. 

“Stop it. You don’t need that,” he tells you, and you roll your eyes with a playful smile. 

“You’re a neanderthal,” You tease him, letting him guide you out of the house and back towards the car. 

“No, I was raised right,” Aaron corrects you. 

“What if I want a drink and I get carded?” You smirked as you buckled your seatbelt. You were younger than Aaron, yes, but not by that much. 

“If you get denied because you don’t have an ID on you, I’ll stop at the gas station on our way home and buy you a six pack of bud light.” He assures you as he backs out of the parking lot.

“So romantic,” you cooed overdramatically, tossing your head back with a laugh. Aaron takes advantage of the opportunity to lean over the console and press a quick kiss to your jawline.

A few moments later, Aaron parks the car in front of a greasy spoon downtown that you’d never been to before, and you give him an inquisitive look. It’s not that you minded at all-- any time you spent with Aaron was perfect in every way. But his dates were usually a lot higher-key. 

“I’ve got to keep you on your toes,” he shrugged with a boyish grin as he took your hand in his on the sidewalk and walked you into the restaurant. He let go reluctantly as the two of you slid into opposite sides of a booth. 

“So, it’s safe to assume that there’s more to tonight’s date than burgers and milkshakes?” You ask Aaron after the two of you have placed your orders. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Aaron nods, smiling smugly. 

“And are you going to tell me what that might be?” You asked hopefully. 

“Absolutely not,” Aaron confirmed what you had already suspected.

“Not even a hint?” You asked. 

“You’ll find out in due time. Be patient, princess,” he encourages you. 

“I’m willing to beg,” you informed him. You were sure that whatever he had planned would be romantic and wonderful, but god did you want to know. 

“Darling, I’d really prefer if you saved that for our bedroom,” Aaron deadpanned, and you choked on your water. 

“Agent Hotchner!” You chastised, catching your breath. 

“Come on, now you’re just teasing me,” he winked, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, is it working?” You asked, wondering if you could flirt your way into some intel. 

“Not a chance,” he admonished you playfully as the waitress sat your meals down in front of you. 

After dinner, Aaron took your hand back in his and led you out of the restaurant. You started to head off towards the car, but he stopped you. 

“You did want to see what else I had planned, didn’t you?” He asks, facetiously. 

“Yes please,” you smiled shyly. 

“Take a walk with me,” Aaron says, tugging you back into him so he can wrap his arm around you.  It takes a couple of paces for him to find his metaphorical footing, but after a moment, he speaks up again. “I haven’t been clear with you about what my intentions are, and I wanted to apologize for that.”

“Aaron, you don’t have to--” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“Let me, first, please?” Aaron asks of you, looking you in the eyes, and you nod, giving him permission to continue. “I haven’t explained to you exactly how I feel, and because I didn’t do that, you’re having to worry about silly things, like whether or not you have the same amount of experience I do, or whether or not I’m going to run off with Jack’s teacher or one of his friends moms.” 

“Well, I’m less worried about Rhonda now that I’ve met her wife. But Ms. Meadows is still on my watch list.” You tell him, and he chuckles, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it as he takes you down a side street. 

“Darling, you’ve got nothing to worry about. That’s what I needed to tell you. I’m all in, sweetheart. You, me, Jack, and anyone else we might add to our family-- that’s all I want. That’s my priority.” He tells you, and your breath catches. “So, I got you a little something, just to show you how serious I am,” He says, leading you into a jewelry store. You stop in the doorway. 

“Aaron Hotchner, please tell me you’re not proposing at the jewelers.” You whisper out, not wanting to cause a scene. You would have said yes, regardless, but you were struck by a little bit of shock. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No, dear. Come on in, and I’ll show you,” He takes your hand again, and you step into the jewelry store with trepidation. The man behind the counter seems to recognize Aaron, as he produces a bag from the back counter once they make eye contact. Aaron passes the bag to you, and you push through the pink tissue paper to uncover a box, in which you find a single diamond solitaire pendant.

“Aaron,” you start breathlessly, but he’s already taking the necklace out of your hands and maneuvering the clasp around your neck. 

“This is just a placeholder, until you’re ready for the real thing,” Aaron whispers, pressing a kiss behind your ear once the necklace is secure. “But since we’re here, would you want to try a few on? So I know what you like? You’re not allowed to take the real one off, once it’s on. So I want you to be happy with it.” 

You’re sure that you’re dreaming your way through the rest of the evening. You try on what feels like every ring in the store, including the ones you insist are too expensive, but Aaron refuses to listen. You’re practically floating on air during the walk back to the car, and you let out a sigh as you settle into the passenger seat. 

“I know I said you weren’t allowed to take the ring off, and I meant it,” Aaron tells you. “But if you’re not ready to start thinking that way, I understand. This is at your pace. You just let me know, and I’ll pump the breaks.” 

You practically launch yourself across the center console, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. “Does this thing go any faster, actually?” You ask, and he laughs as he kisses you again.

tagging:  @romanogersendgame @wanniiieeee      @zheezs14      @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner  @ijustwannaread2k19    @rexit-mo @shmaptainhotchnersmain @qtip-blog @averyhotchner  @the-modernmary @itsmytimetoodream @choppa-style @hotforhotchner11 @infinite-tides @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @bakugouswh0r3 @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads

[hel-studio]

Axe Bar: You Need To Go Here Now

Axe bars are the latest trend in fitness, and for good reason. They offer a unique Resistance Training experience that is unlike anything you’ve tried before. But what are axe bars, exactly? And how do they work? In this article, we will cover everything you need to know about axe bar near me and how you can use them for your own fitness goals. From the different types of axe bars to the benefits of using one, read on to learn everything you need to know about this popular training tool.

If you’re like most people, you probably think of Axe Bar as a place where you can get a good shave. But if you think about it, that’s only one small part of what this store is all about. Axe Bar is actually a well-rounded destination for men, with everything from grooming supplies to clothes to electronics. If you’re in the market for anything—whether it be for yourself or for a gift—you need to go to Axe Bar. In this blog post, we’ll explore some of the best things about Axe Bar and why you should visit soon. Trust us, you won’t regret it.

What is Axe Bar?

Axe Bar is a unique and fun bar in the heart of downtown Los Angeles. The staff is friendly, the drinks are strong, and the atmosphere is perfect for a night out with friends. Axe Bar is definitely worth checking out!

If you're in the mood for something a little different, then Axe Bar is definitely worth checking out. This bar offers a variety of drinks and food that will have you thinking outside of the box. From their signature axe drink to their delicious tacos, there's something for everyone at Axe Bar. Plus, their atmosphere is perfect for a night out with friends.

How Does the Axe Bar Work?

If you're in the market for a new piece of home gym equipment, you need to check out the axe bar. This is a unique piece of equipment that will help you increase your strength and endurance. The axe bar is made out of metal and has a weight capacity of 300 pounds. It consists of two bars that are attached by means of a hinge, allowing you to move them independently from each other.

The main benefit of using the axe bar is that it allows you to work on different muscle groups at the same time. You can use it for bicep curls, shoulder press, triceps extension, and more. Another great thing about this piece of equipment is that it's very affordable, making it a great option for beginners or those on a budget.

The axe bar is a new weightlifting equipment you need in your gym. It is similar to the squat bar, but it has an extra attachment that allows you to do more work with your lower-body muscles. The axe bar allows you to do more reps and heavier weights than using just a regular squat bar.

The benefits of using the axe bar include:

• You can do more reps with heavier weights, which will help you build muscle and strength faster.

• The extra attachment on the axe bar allows you to target your lower-body muscles more effectively, which will improve your squats and overall conditioning.

• The axe bar is safer than a regular squat bar because it doesn’t pin your feet in place like a bench press does. This makes it easier to lift heavy weights without any major injuries.

The Menu at the Axe Bar

The Axe Bar is a new bar in the heart of downtown that has quickly become a favorite spot for locals and tourists alike. The menu offers a variety of delicious food items, including burgers, fries, chicken tenders, and specialty drinks. There's also a wide selection of beer on tap, as well as wine and cocktails. The atmosphere is casual and comfortable, perfect for grabbing a drink with friends or dining in peace.

If you're in the mood for some good, hearty bar food, Axe Bar is your spot. With a menu that spans everything from burgers to nachos, this place has something for everyone. Plus, the drinks are top-notch - from hard drinks to craft beers and cocktails. And if you're feeling like treating yourself, the axe happy hour specials are definitely worth checking out. So go ahead and give the Axe Bar a try – you won't regret it!

Customer Reviews of the Axe Bar

Looking for a new bar in town? Axe Bar is your new go-to spot! Located near the heart of the city, this bar has something for everyone. Whether you're looking for a place to drink and socialize with friends, or want to get some work done, Axe Bar has you covered. Plus, the drinks are delicious and affordable. Here are some customer reviews of Axe Bar:

"Best bar around! The drinks are delicious and the staff is super chill."

"Axe Bar is one of my favorite bars in town. The drinks are really affordable and they have a great selection."

"I love axe bar! The drinks are really good and their service is A+. I definitely recommend it!"

Conclusion

I'm not going to sugarcoat it: Axe Bar is one of my favorite places to eat in Toronto. The food is delicious, the atmosphere is perfect for a night out with friends, and the staff are always so friendly and accommodating. I highly recommend you make your way down to Axe Bar as soon as possible – you won't regret it!

[thorniest-rose]

reddie halloween prompt #6 pumpkin

Eddie had lived in denial for a long time. It was a denial that had clung to him since he’d been a little boy. Never letting himself get dirty. Being scared of falling ill. Not letting his eyes linger too much on the handsome men he saw in the pharmacy or at the grocery store. And never letting himself enjoy food. Because food meant gluttony. It meant allergies and intolerances. It meant turning out like his mother, who he watched grow bigger and rounder every year.  

He spent years like that, not letting himself enjoy anything. Convincing himself he was so frail that all he could eat were egg whites and leafy greens or the leanest chicken with a plate of boiled vegetables. No gluten. No sugar. Hardly any fats or carbs. For more than 20 years he was as austere as a Puritan. And he told himself it was for the best. 

Until Richie, that was. Until they had finally defeated the clown. 

Things started to change then. Slowly at first but surely. Eddie left his sham of a marriage; he came out of the closet; he admitted to Richie one night, as the two of them shared a bowl of ice cream by Richie's swimming pool, that he was in love with him. And then, after he let himself try a slice of challah one day at a coffee shop downtown, toasted gently and spread with honey, Eddie let himself fall. 

First, Eddie made banana bread using some old, overripe bananas on their kitchen table. Then he baked chewy oatmeal cookies one morning after he’d served up their overnight oats. Before Eddie knew it, he was cooking up a storm: he ordered cookbooks, watched videos, bookmarked blogs. And he started to love the act of cooking. Looked forward to planning out their meals and going grocery shopping. There were fluffy ricotta pancakes in the morning; a cheese and spinach quiche with salad in the afternoon, chicken thighs baked in white wine, olive oil and parmigiano reggiano in the evening. And then, teasingly, a silky mousse or sliver of cheesecake.  

Richie, who had the biggest appetite out of anyone Eddie had ever known, scarfed down everything Eddie made as quickly as a dog. He'd been happy to see Eddie enjoy food more and actively encouraged his cooking.

What Eddie hadn't expected was how sexy Richie had found it. How he watched Eddie cook with his blue eyes lit up with some kind of mischief. Sometimes coming up behind him so he could trail his hands over Eddie’s hips as he cooked, snaking a hand around his chest to tweak a nipple through his t-shirt, or to press the flat of his palm to Eddie’s lower stomach in a vaguely territorial touch that had Eddie half-panting as he stirred. 

Eddie always kicked Richie out eventually, swatting him away with a wooden spoon or elbowing him in the stomach. But it didn't stop Eddie from growing ruby-cheeked or getting hard in his pants. Something Richie definitely noticed as he chuckled and said, "You feeling okay there, baby?"

Which is probably why he should have seen this coming. Not that he thought it would happen that morning, as he prepared a homemade pumpkin pie for the first time. That he’d end up pushed up against the counter in their spacious, airy kitchen with Richie's jeans shoved down his thighs and his cock balls deep inside Eddie's ass. 

The pie looks good. Eddie had completed the crust, and he’s busy with the filling: mixing eggs, spices and fresh pumpkin purée in a bowl. Or at least he was trying to. Because Richie’s cock was nudging his prostate, and every time Eddie tried to focus on what he was doing, Richie would tilt his hips slightly and brush up against his sweet spot.

Richie had spent the whole time cooing into his ear, telling him what a good boy he was, as he stroked Eddie's hips like he was a skittish, easily frightened domestic pet.

The whisk clatters to the counter as Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan. 

“I can’t do it,” he says, his head hanging down between his shoulders. 

Richie leans in and swipes his tongue against the bare skin at his feverish nape.

“I think you can,” he says. “Come on, baby, you’re doing so well.”

Richie hadn’t fucked him that morning like he usually did, making the excuse that he had an important Zoom meeting. That he had to get ready for some presentation with the big suits about the future of his show. Eddie had said okay, that made sense, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed as Richie kissed him on the cheek and disappeared out the room. 

But it turns out this was why. Richie had been saving it for this. 

Eddie tries not to moan at how deep Richie is inside him. There’s nothing between them, not even a layer of latex, and it’s almost too much. Richie’s cock is stretching him wide - with a shiver, he can imagine how obscene his hole must look around Richie’s cock - and on each small thrust into him, Eddie can feel Richie’s balls brush against his thighs. 

“I hate you,” he mutters as his arms tremble, hands clenched so hard around the edge of the counter that they're porcelain white.

Richie tsks against his neck. “That’s not a very nice thing to say to your finance, is it? When he takes such good care of you.”

Eddie laughs, and it sounds manic. “Is this what you think taking care of me looks like?”

He expects a joke, or a witty retort. Instead what he gets is Richie’s fingers tightening to a bone-bruising grip on his hips. Eddie would cry out, goes to, except Richie shoots out a hand and shoves three thick fingers into Eddie’s mouth, stifling the sound. 

With an edge of steel Richie says, “Why don’t you stop talking back and do as you’re told?”

Eddie starts to say “okay”, only he can’t, not with Richie’s fingers in his mouth, how they press down his tongue. So he nods his head as much as he can to get the point across. He’ll make the pie. He’ll be good. 

“That's better,” Richie says.

He pushes his fingers deeper into Eddie’s mouth, getting them wet to the knuckle, the force of it making Eddie gag. It feels like a warning. That Eddie better be good because he's not in the mood to play. Then he pulls them out as fast as he’d pushed them in, bringing them back to Eddie's hip.

"Go on then," he says, but this time there's the hint of a laugh in his voice. Like he finds humiliating Eddie like this funny.

Eddie feels winded, the corners of his mouth feel bruised, but he picks up the whisk again and starts swirling the filling. It’s not as fast as he’d usually do it, but it’s the best he can do. Behind him, Richie starts to pick up the pace a little, pulling out and pushing his cock deeper into Eddie’s needy, clenching hole. He hits his prostate again, making him arch back against the tall line of Richie’s body. 

“R-Richie, I can’t,” he says, on the verge of dropping the whisk again. Of abandoning the pie and begging Richie to fuck him. 

But he knows that won't do.

From behind him Richie says, “Why don’t you shut the fuck up? I thought you could be good? Do you want me to pull out?”

Eddie shakes his head. He doesn't. Even though it was maddening: the torturous, slow push of Richie’s cock inside him, the feeling of his zipper rubbing up against his ass, the drip of precome at the end of Eddie’s dick where he’d grown flushed and hard against the counter. But the thought of Richie pulling out and leaving him there while he went to the bedroom to jerk off was even worse. He has a thought of Richie coming all over their bedsheets, of wasting his come instead of depositing it deep inside Eddie where it belonged, and he almost whines.

“No Richie, I want it so bad, please. Please don’t pull out,” he begs, in a voice he doesn’t even recognise. Something high and wanton. A voice he didn’t even know he could make until Richie laid him down on his bed one night all those months ago and pushed inside him for the first time. 

“Beautiful boy,” Richie says sweetly. “Finish it, come on,” he murmurs.

So Eddie does. As Richie continues his slow, tormenting pace, Eddie finishes whisking the filling and lifts the bowl with shaky fingers so he can pour it into the pastry shell. He almost drops it, but manages to right the bowl at the last second. Afterwards he stares at it: the beautiful, flaky, butter pastry crust with its autumnal filling, and that floaty feeling of satisfaction comes over him. He’d done good. He did exactly as Richie told him.

“I’ve done it, Richie,” he sighs, his voice sounding faraway. “I’ve finished the pie.”

He melts when Richie kisses him on the side of his neck, scraping his teeth over his pulse point where it jumps rapidly.

“I knew you could do it, Eddie, I knew you could make me happy.”

And Richie rewards him for it. With one hand he pulls Eddie’s hips back and with the other he pushes Eddie’s cheek down against the counter until Eddie's bent at an obscene angle. At a fuckable angle, Eddie thinks with a shiver. But that’s the last coherent thought he has for a long time because a moment later Richie’s pulling out until just the tip of his dick is spearing Eddie open, and then he does what Eddie’s wanted all this time. He shoves back inside, the squelch of the lube pornographically loud in their quiet kitchen, and he rails him hard, letting that hidden, ferocious side come out.

It’s the hardest fuck Eddie’s had in days, and fuck it feels so good, his ass bouncing off Richie’s sharp hips on every thrust, Richie's cock punching his tiny hole open, and the low-pitched growl coming from Richie’s throat making his dick drool at the tip.

It's something he can't believe he's denied himself for so long.

"I kind of want to eat this pumpkin pie out of you," Richie suddenly says. "Would you let me do that? Just finger it inside of your dumb cunt and then eat it out of you?"

And it shouldn't sound hot. It should sound ridiculous. But it doesn't stop Eddie from crying out or his balls drawing up.

"I'm going to-"

He cuts off on a high whine as Richie reaches around and grabs him in warning.

"You better not. Not until I say."

Eddie nods, and Richie starts fucking him again, hammering his prostate on every push inside him, muttering so filthy it makes Eddie flush all the way down to his chest.

And when Richie finally tells him to come he does, clenching around him until he shoots sticky white all over the counter. 

“Good boy,” Richie says as he pulls his cock out to smear the sticky head against the sore skin at his hole, making Eddie quiver. “Now let's go for that money shot. How much do you think you can make Daddy come?"

And Eddie, with gusto, shows him.

[charmtion]

I will make something pretty tomorrow, but for now here is a little excerpt of my newest [nsfw] one-shot, featuring silver fox Jon: » 2am «

They met at a literary event held by her university. She was attracted to him because he did things that she considered exotic at the time. Once, he lit a cigarette in the bath and when the ash fell it made patterns in the water. The image has stayed with her; she doesn’t know why. Sometimes she imagines that he is sketching the same patterns on her skin when he touches her in bed.

She chose a city university because she wanted—somehow—to reclaim the anonymity denied to her by her countryside upbringing. Years later, it seems that desire has been spurned. He knows her better than anyone. He sees through her in a way no-one else ever has, ever cared to. What the village gossips would give to see half the secrets she stores beneath his skin.

It is Wednesday evening, and the same shadow is showing through the glass panel of the front-door as it always does midweek. He has a key, but courtesy makes him knock. His manners are what he calls half-inherited, half-informed—something to do with his father, the boundaries and privacies denied to his mother. He doesn’t talk about his parents much, and neither does she. They like it that way; it sustains the illusion that there is nothing much between them.

He leans a shoulder against the doorframe as she pats a little more lipstick onto her cupid’s bow. She feels his eyes on her; she does not look away from the mirror. It is another part of their illusion, their pretence—that he is not drinking her in, that she is not revelling in the easy, practised way he consumes her.

She tilts her head to the side once she has capped her lipstick, holds it in her right hand as she rustles a section of her hair with her left.

‘I wish you’d use that key,’ she says.

The shoulder against the doorframe scrapes a shrug. ‘I prefer to be let inside.’

‘Invited in?’ she says, deliberately—the way her pulse flutters at his choice of words. ‘Like a vampire. You’d play that part well, I suppose.’

‘I can’t imagine what you mean by that.’

She hears the smile in his voice a second before she turns away from the mirror and sees it: that half-lift of his lips beneath the silver-tipped shadow of his beard. He rolls his eyes, leans away from the doorframe. His fingers brush the small of her back as she moves past him toward the flight of stone steps. It is a fleeting touch. She feels it like an ember on her skin the entire taxi-ride.

He wants to hear about her day, listens intently as he always does when they sit down to dinner. It used to be a game she played. She would tell him every minute detail of her diary to see which bits he’d omit or forget: that brunch with Margaery a month ago, the sandwich shop she went to when she was downtown for an afternoon, the exact time and date of some mundane appointment. When he told her he’d been to Toasty’s on her recommendation—a full two months after she had mentioned it—she knew the game was up.

‘Did you hear back from that magazine yet?’

Cool wine blooms across her tongue. ‘Not yet.’ She sets the glass down onto the tablecloth. ‘But the deadline isn’t until Friday, so.’

‘Early bird catches the worm.’

She annoys herself by laughing at his age-old idiom, takes another sip of wine. ‘If only that were true in publishing.’

It is the first poem she has submitted to a literary publication. She has written poetry all her life. Usually, she does not show it to anyone, not even him. He doesn’t touch the small pile of notebooks that builds beside her bed steadily throughout the year. Sometimes she wishes that he would. Run a fingertip down the cracked spine of one of them, let the ink-stained pages be kissed by his breath. Sometimes she thinks that she is a fool, half-drunk on the twee lines that consume her days. Other times she is a genius: an unrecognised one, teetering on the edge of something bigger—better.

‘I wish I hadn’t sent it,’ she says now. ‘It wasn’t my best.’

‘It was brilliant.’

Her eyes narrow. ‘How would you know? You’ve never seen it.’

‘You wrote it.’

Despite herself, she smiles. ‘And that’s enough, is it?’

‘Aye,’ he says. ‘That’s more than enough, Sansa.’

The syllables of her name drag across his tongue, drop lazily from his lips. His teeth glimmer white beneath the soft spotlights of the restaurant. Her own smile widens. There is a butterfly in her throat, fluttering from the hollow of it to swoop along her collarbone. She swallows, and the sensation settles a little lower. Heat blooms in her chest, her stomach.

She feels his eyes on her, knows that they are tracking the subtle changes to her face, her body. The tip of his index finger trails over the back of her hand; she nips at her lower lip to stop the sound that is threatening to storm past it.

His voice is a rumble somewhere at the edges of her awareness. ‘Too early for that yet, baby—we’ve got all night.’

‘I don’t know if I can wait, Jon.’

‘You’ll wait,’ he says softly. ‘You know it’ll be worth it if you do.’

continue reading here, if you fancy it, loves! ♡

[bobbinonthetundra]

The Wild Wild West

We’ve got the groove down.  When on a road trip complete with two kichens (Seb’s tote and Jillebob’s tote of non-clothing/non-toiletry items), a Nespresso maker, and cooler, in addition to normal luggage, getting in and out of hotel rooms is a bigger than normal deal. But we’ve got loading/unloading the car and getting stuff in and back out of the room down to a science!

The view from our hotel was lovely this morning, with a few squalls over the Little Traverse Bay and a double rainbow as we drove away!

We started the day in downtown Petoskey.  What a lovely town.  In a town full of beautiful, up-scale shops and restaurants, only one (count it one) with a recognizable chain store name (that will not be repeated).  How fabulous to be in a place that is not just a cookie cutter of the next…!  We wandered around and are likely lucky that most places opened only as we were leaving town – too many temptations here!  Sunday breakfast was at the Roast and Toast, seated in the sole outside table. (happy to play it safe as we look toward our pre-Canada admittance COVID tests.)  Yummy veggie/egg wrap for Seb and a breakfast pita for Jillebob.

Our first destination heading out of town was the Tunnel of Trees – a scenic route around the northwest coast of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula.  This did not disappoint.  Spectacular views across Lake Michigan back toward Petoskey and Charlevoix, and then into the wild blue of what looks like an ocean.  The foliage colors seemed a little better than the day before (yay) and it was so fun to check out the spectacular homes along the coast interspersed with compact, vintage homes.  We hit a one-store town, Good Hart, that actually had three stores, and featured a little outdoor market.  Yes, the market was cute but the highlight was the fresh (still warm) cookies from the general store – one salted peanut butter chocolate chip and one maple snickerdoodle.  Ok, so no one ever accused either of us of not liking sweets.

Toward the end of the spectacular coast road, we headed toward Mackinaw City, where the ferry leaves for Mackinac Island.  Alas, we missed one ferry by about two minutes.  But that allowed us time to head over to the one busy place in the off-season desolation of the ferry dock – The Rusted Spoke Brewing Company.  Jill’s selection: “Chin Diaper,” an American IPA brewed in Mackinaw City; Sarah’s choice: grapefruit ale.  Omg, yummy!!!

Fun ferry ride and we landed on the island.  It’s lovely, charming, no cars, horse-drawn carriages, beautiful views, and the icon of the Grand Hotel on the hill.  Hard to say anything bad about it, but it was a bit touristy and closing down for the season.  Sarah’s choice would be to return to Petoskey rather than to Makinac Island.  Jill?   Maybe a stay at the Grand Hotel in the future….

Back on the ferry, we high-tailed it toward, Marquette.  Yay. We made it to the Upper Peninsula (UP)!!  Some beautiful scenery, including our third Great Lake of the trip, Superior.

What a wonderful day, and what a beautiful part of the country. Michigan came through.

No dinner out tonight.  Our nibbles are just right in the hotel room, with a movie on TV and a glass of wine from one of our mobile kitchens.  Ready for the next installment tomorrow

And as a p.s. to yesterday’s post, Sarah wants everyone to know that Jill’s warrior posture yesterday with Hotels.com has gotten us a free hotel room on the way home after the polar bear extravaganza!! Hurrah.

October 24, 2021

[lostinmirkwood]

Gendrya Kinktober Day 24- First Time

Find it on AO3 here.

It takes six months after they run into each other as adults for them to go on their first date. Arya had moved to Storm’s End after she’d finished her Economics degree in the Riverlands and had run into Gendry completely by accident at the public library on a rare sunny Saturday. They’d grabbed coffee to catch up, having not seen each other since Gendry helped her move out of her dorm after her first year of school nearly four years previously. Arya left him with her number but it wasn’t until they’d run into each other a few more times before Gendry finally began to text her. When Arya suggested grabbing drinks at a pub near both their offices he agreed and drinks turned into dinner, turned into him walking her to the train, shoulders brushing, far too late to be out on a work night. Neither of them realized the time until their waitress had stopped by their table to close their tab so she could head home for the night.

Their second date is much more intentional, Gendry takes her to the arthouse theater when he sees they’re screening her favorite movie, The Legend of High Heart, as part of their Autumn Festival. Afterwards they get a late dinner at a Braavosi restaurant near the water that Arya had suggested. This time Gendry takes her hand as they walk to the nearest station and gives her a kiss on the cheek when they go their separate ways.

It’s a few weeks before they can go on their third date, both of their jobs getting in the way. Arya texts him early on a Sunday and they meet at the farmer’s market downtown. They end up spending the entire day together having a picnic lunch from their market spoils, playing games in the arcade on the pier at Shipbreaker Bay, holding hands and wandering the city sharing bits about themselves as the sun slowly sunk in the west. Arya offers to cook them both dinner at her apartment if they can make a quick stop at a grocery store and Gendry accepts, not wanting to end the perfect day they’ve had. Arya picks up everything she needs for a quick and delicious pasta dish and when they arrive at her place she puts Gendry to work as her sous chef, having him prepare a salad and slice a nice loaf of bread from the market. She pours wine and over dinner they continue to share stories.

When the topic turns to how he found architecture Gendry hesitates for a moment before telling her the story was tied up in his family, “Mum died when I was 14 and it had always just been the two of us. I was angry for a long while and bounced between several foster homes for a year before the Seaworths took me in. They had seven boys and it was a bit of an adjustment to go from being alone to always having people around, people who cared. I stayed with them until I aged out of the system, they were my first real family after I’d lost my mum. When I was seventeen I was contacted by a lawyer. Turns out my father always knew who I was but never lifted a finger to help while he was alive, even after I was placed in the system. He’d recently passed and to spite his ex-wife had left me and his four other bastards a chunk of inheritance, on the condition we took his last name. I wanted to refuse outright, because fuck him, but Davos convinced me to cool off and think about it for a few days before I made any final decision. I hated the thought of taking anything from that deadbeat prick but I had my heart set on architecture. The day after the lawyer contacted me I received early acceptance to one of the top design schools in Westeros and there was no way in the seven hells I could afford it. The inheritance dropped that opportunity in my lap. So I kept Waters as my middle name and took Baratheon as my last name. I’d paid for so much in my life that the dead bastard owed me that much. And now I have even more siblings than you, Arry.”

Arya can tell he feels a little uncomfortable having just spilled his life’s story to her, so she smiles at him, tops off his wine glass, and changes the subject to an upcoming footie match between Winterfell and Storm’s End. The mood lightens as they begin to passionately debate their opposing sides and Gendry tells her to come to his place the next weekend to watch the match. Their night ends earlier than either of them would like but they both have work in the morning and Gendry feels a bit emotionally wrung out after their dinner conversation.

--

They spend the week leading up to the match texting constantly, even managing to sneak away from their offices to meet for lunch on Wednesday. Arya offers to walk with him back to his office as they’d lingered over the last few chips on their plates for far too long and he eagerly accepts, grabbing her hand as they step out onto the busy sidewalk to walk the few blocks to his building. Standing near the door Gendry goes to kiss her cheek again, right as Arya turns to do the same. Their lips meet at a slightly awkward angle and they both pull back startled.

“Oh, uh,” Arya stutters out, blushing. Gendry’s not much better, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks down at his shoes.

Arya takes a deep breath, “Try again?”

Gendry’s head darts up, eyes meeting hers as she smiles. One of his hands comes up to cup her cheek as he leans down to press a true kiss to her lips. It feels electric, lasting both forever and just an instant. Their eyes flutter open (when had they closed?), and Gendry has to step back towards the door to his building or he will never leave, saying, “See you Saturday?”

Arya nods, still blushing. Her eyes are wide, lips slightly parted, looking thunderstruck before she gives him a brilliant smile and heads into the midday crowd to return to work. When he gets back to his desk his phone chimes

Arya (1:02pm): We should definitely do that again

Gendry grins to himself, and sends her a reply.

Gendry (1:02pm): Lunch or the other thing?

Arya (1:03pm): Both, but I really liked the other thing.

---

The rest of the work week seems to drag on. Their texts have taken on a flirty tone that makes anticipation lick at Gendry’s spine, though he’s not sure for what. Saturday finally dawns cool and rainy, unsurprising in the Stormlands no matter how nice the weather had been all week. He spends the morning cleaning his apartment, something he does every Saturday anyway but today’s has a bit more vigor behind it, wanting to impress. Arya arrives just before the match starts rain splattered and grinning, waving a six pack of Northern beer in support of her side.

She gives him a lingering kiss on his jaw, breathing in the smell of his soap and skin, butterflies churning in her stomach as he wraps his arms around her for a long moment before taking her coat and hanging it next to his on a hook rail near the door. Noticing his socked feet she slides her own shoes off next before setting her bag down and following Gendry into his kitchen. He waves her towards the living room, taking the beer from her to stick in the fridge, telling her to make herself comfortable. She eagerly accepts the opened beer from him as he moves to plop next to her on the couch, his arm thrown across the back of it just above her shoulders.

Neither of them could tell you much about the match, both keenly aware of the other’s proximity. Every small move is catalogued, each brush of their bodies analyzed. Sometime in the third quarter Arya’s hand had settled on Gendry’s thigh and his breath had stopped entirely for a moment. When Gendry’s arm had migrated from the back of the couch to gently playing with a loose strand of hair on her shoulder she froze before melting softly against him. Their eyes had caught as the game went into extra time and the next thing Gendry knows Arya’s muttering, “Fuck it,” and swinging her leg over his to settle onto his lap. She gives him a moment to process her new position before her lips descend to his in an earth shattering kiss.

He sits dumbstruck for a moment too long and she pulls back, worried she’s misread and pushed him into something he wasn’t interested in. He gives a low whine as her lips leave his, his brain finally coming back online. His hands reach up to tangle in her hair and tug her mouth back to his, giving her plump lower lip a nip with his teeth as he starts to kiss her again. Her tongue slips into his mouth when one of his hands drops from her hair to her waist, tugging her closer. Arya gasps at the feel of him hard through both their jeans, grinding down against him as her hands scrabble down his firm chest searching for the hem of his shirt. Finding it she runs her hands across his stomach and scratches her nails up, drawing a groan from him as he moves to help her take his shirt off. Arya pulls back for a moment to admire the sight of him below her. His hair is in disarray, blue eyes dark, breath heaving as her nails leave slight red trails through the smattering of hair of his bared chest. It’s a good look for him, she thinks.

Gendry’s hands find the hem of her sweater and he looks up at her in question. Arya nods rapidly, helping him pull it off her, revealing her lacy bralette. The sight of her nipples hard through the black lace makes his mouth water as he begins to kiss down her neck and across her chest, hands reaching up to palm her tits through the thin fabric. His lips close over one of her pearled nipples, gently nipping and sucking, his warm breath fanning across her chest. Arya moans quietly, her own hands moving to shrug her bra down off her shoulders to reveal her rosy pink peaks to him. His blue eyes meet hers as his fingers reach to begin to tug and roll the exposed buds, Arya’s eyes fluttering closed as his mouth returns to work and her hands bury themselves in his hair to hold him close. Her hips roll with more force, chasing the building fire between them. Suddenly Gendry’s hands leave her chest and grip her waist as he stands from the couch. Arya yelps and wraps her legs around him as he walks them through his apartment to his bedroom door. He nudges the door open with his foot and steps across the room to his bed, dropping her on the mattress.

Arya stares up at him from his rumpled sheets, enjoying the picture he made standing at the edge of the large bed shirtless and breathing hard. He plants one knee on the bed next to her and leans over her, catching her eye and softly asking, “Is this okay?”

Arya nods, “Yes, yes. So okay.”

Gendry gives her a brilliant smile and dips to kiss her as Arya moves to sit up and do the same. Their foreheads bump as they move, causing them to draw back with an “ow!” before they both laugh and Arya holds still for Gendry to kiss her again. Successful this time they continue to make out, hands wandering. Arya runs a hand down his impressive back, dipping into the back of his jeans to squeeze his arse. She cocks an eyebrow at him and grins when he pulls back, “I’ve wanted to do that since you turned and walked away from me the first time. You’ve got an amazing arse, Gendry.”

Gendry flushes for a moment before running his hands down to her waistband, flicking open the button of her jeans, “Can I?”

Arya nods and he begins to work the tight denim off her legs. Once bare he stands at the edge of the bed again and admires her. It’s Arya’s turn to blush, “Sorry.”

“What on earth are you sorry for?” He’s confused, she’s almost naked and absolutely beautiful sprawled out before him.

“I wasn’t expecting this, otherwise I’d have worn sexier underwear,” she stares down at her plain black cotton panties, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. She’d put on the lacy bralette thinking they’d maybe neck on the couch a bit and he’d see that. She didn’t want to get her hopes up that they’d get this far and then have him think she’s slutty by wearing lacy underwear too. It’s a confusing feeling, both wishing she’d look sexy now that she’s almost naked in front of him but not wanting him to think she was expecting and wanting sex by wearing it.

Gendry shakes his head, freeing her lip with his thumb, “You look so fucking beautiful. You don’t ever have to apologize for what you’re wearing to me. Do you want to go further? Because we can stop right now if you don’t want to and it won’t change anything.”

Arya looks him over, his obvious erection straining his jeans. His bare chest is practically glowing in the evening light streaming through his bedroom window. And he’s looking down at her with nothing but affection and desire, no trace of judgement at her clothing choices. She nods and smiles, “Yes, I want you. Take your pants off? I’m feeling a little exposed.”

Gendry grins at her, his hands dropping to his fly. He’s a little distracted by her in the golden light and he’s hard as diamonds in his jeans. Quick as he can he shucks both his pants and boxers, which seems like a great plan until one of his ankles gets stuck and he nearly tumbles on the bed next to her naked as his nameday trying to free himself. His clothing blunder eases the slight awkwardness she’d felt at her insecurity and they both lay next to each other giggling. Gendry’s chuckle turns to a gasping moan when Arya’s hand finds its way around his raging cock, grasping and giving it a few firm strokes. She grins at him as she strokes again, his hips pressing towards her. It’s her turn to moan when he rolls over her, caging her in his arms as one of his hands delves into her underwear, seeking her out. He pets his fingers through her damp curls, dipping into her center before moving to her clit. Finding the hard bud he meets her eyes as he starts to circle. It feels good as Arya snakes one of her hands down covering his. She slips her fingers around his and begins to guide them, adjusting the pressure and motion until he catches on to how she likes to be touched. She pulls back as she begins to writhe, enjoying the smile on his face as he brings her pleasure. She comes with a gasp when he dips a finger into her as he continues to work her clit.

Gendry sits back with a pleased look, bringing his damp finger to his mouth to taste her. He moans as her salty sweet flavor bursts across his tongue. Arya’s eyes darken and she scrambles out of her underwear, wanting him inside her now. Finally naked she tugs his arm, asking, “Condom?” as she pulls him over her.

Gendry nods and leans over to dig through his nightstand, pulling a foil wrapper free from the drawer. Her eyes follow his movements as he opens the packet and rolls the rubber over his impressive erection. A small worry niggles in the back of her mind. He’s a very large man and she’s rather small. Gendry must catch a change in her expression when he finishes wrapping himself. “Still sure?” he asks, softly.

“Yeah, you’re just much bigger than… others.”

He smiles, but it’s not cocky despite how much it deserves to be, “Don’t worry, we’ll go slow.”

Arya smiles back. She doesn’t have a wealth of experience but she trusts him. He’s already taken instruction well and has continually checked in with her. She believes he’ll take care of her.

It takes a bit of fumbling for them to get him lined up correctly but when he begins to slide in Arya gasps. The stretch of him feels delicious. He pulls back a little and rocks in further. He keeps up the gentle rocking until he’s fully seated then stops. Arya’s face is scrunched and he’s worried he’s hurting her until her expression eases.

“So full,” she mumbles, “you can move, you feel so good.”

Gendry begins to thrust, keeping his pace slow and steady. She feels incredible around him, the hot clutch of her center dragging him to the edge much faster than he’d anticipated. Arya feels warm and loose as

[artificialqueens]

Ten Days (Crygi) - Cashmere

Hi guys, So I posted this story literally about … 6 years ago on tumblr with another ship, but decided 1) I want to get into writing again and 2) It was time to go through my old stories and do revamp on some, and it just so happens Crygi is my current drag race obsession, and I’ve had far too much wine and I’m far too emotional and after being here from the start of AQ? I’m finally posting my first fic here. So here we go!

—

 It’s freezing in the apartment, just the way they liked it. You’d never really questioned it out loud but secretly you just wondered if they kept it that cold so you’d have an excuse to cuddle even if it was scorching outside, not that you ever complained about being curled up with them for hours on end. 

You’ve been on the sofa for what feels like an eternity, the blend of mismatched fibers under you rubbing your skin raw , and all you can see is a kaleidoscope of blooming colors from the many paintings and sketches that litter the walls, sporadically spread across it with no rhyme or reason, as well as the red wine stains that still splatter across the wall from when they and Daegan had gotten into a wrestling match when the pink haired girl had blue shelled them in a winner takes all game of mario kart, and they’d forgotten they still had a full cup of merlot, and you’d groaned about how you weren’t going to get that bond back. 

 All you can hear is the rain steadily beating down against the large windows offering a view to the city you’d adopted as your own, it’s been raining constantly. You on the other hand haven’t cried. You want to, but your eyes remain dry, so maybe the sky is trying to compensate for you? You don’t usually ponder the deep mysteries of the universe,  that was their job. Especially when they was high and asked questions like ‘Are lobsters just fishy mermaids?’, and ‘’If you erase a word.. Where does it go? Does it just vanish?”

You sigh deeply, the breath rattling your lungs and roll over to stare blankly at the back of the sofa so you don’t have to see the paintings, the vibrant colors teeming with life, mocking you.  ‘You’re so brave’, it’s all you ever hear these days. Anyone that knows you will tell you how brave you are, how you’ve been cool, composed, keeping it together. How you’ve you’ve been ‘A beacon of strength’. But you’re not brave. You’re not. they were brave. You’re just terrified and floundering, blustering your way through. Faking it till you making it, with a display of false confidence; when inside you’ve never felt more alone.

Your entire body aches. You’re numb. Empty; and it’s the worst feeling in the world. You understand the pain, the agony. They came. They came and they took over you, and then they just .. Left. It’s as if your heart has left your body. Like it left to save you from yourself because if it was still there in shattered pieces? You’d fall apart with no hope of being put back together. You want to feel something. Anything. You want to cry, scream, reach out, react, anything but your body refuses to move so much as a single finger.

Is this how it feels? Is this oblivion? Hell? It’s been 10 days since you’ve lowered them into the ground. You’ve seen the sunrise, you’ve seen the sunset. You’ve counted the stars until they start blurring together. You’ve watch the sunlight dance on the walls and filter between the gauzy curtains made of what was supposed to be a sari that they’d picked up from a thrift store downtown. It’s been 10 days since you got that call. Your phone is next to you. Full of unread messages, and unanswered phone calls. But you don’t want them. The pity, the voices of everyone but who you want to hear.  Your hands reach out, pale and slender and shake as you struggle to dial the numbers, having to delete that extra ‘8’ that keeps popping up. But when you manage it and lift it to your ear. It rings. It rings and rings. And then you hear it

’Hiiiiiiiii. This is TicTac and CrystalMethydfromdragraceseason12 and host of Get Dusted Party. Leave a message! Do it!” Their voice is still your favorite sound in the world, even though the message is truly awful and you drop your phone onto the rug, not even bothering to hang up,and a single tear rolls down your cheek, cutting through the layers of sweat that have dried against your skin, reddened and indented from the corduroy cushions that scatter the sofa.

  Never again will they pick up the phone, never again will they call you back. Never again will you pick up your phone to hear their voice on the other end of the line asking you what to get for dinner, what time does your flight get in, is there anything you want them to look for at the thrift store, a picture of street art, a green lawn, a meme, and never again will you get a text message from them reminding you that they loved you.

You shakily reach down, dialing the number again, and again, and again. If only to hear their voice. You manage to get off the couch, only to fall to your knees, your muscles weak from days of barely being used. Your phone battery finally fails you, half way through the recorded message and a broken sob leaves your lips and you’re left in silence, the sound echoing from the darkened walls. You haven’t been able to cry, but now. On the floor of your home. The home you both build together and made your own; with nothing but a flat phone in your hand you start to sob uncontrollably, ten days of repressed emotion hitting you all at once.

 It’s a tidal wave, like nothing you’ve ever felt before, assaulting and ravaging your insides. It’s raw, burning, all consuming, and you scream, choke, and wail helplessly, each cry more pained than the last, the sounds almost animal in nature as they tear through your vocal cords. You weren’t meant to be alone. They’d promised to never leave you, and they’d tried. They’d tried to fight to stay, for themselves. For you, for everything else in this world. Sunsets, ginger cats, paints, Missouri summers, colorful jewelry, loud laughter, thick blunts, and brightly patterned shirts in soft fabrics; but even their fighting spirit was no match for fate.

 You need to get up eventually. To shower and wash your hair that hangs in oily clumps, to eat something, to leave the room that smells like them with the tiny personal touches that still litter the room like ornaments, the ugly keychain collection that hangs from the hook. You need to start taking steps to move on. But today isn’t that day. And so you remain on the rug, your cheek pressed to the tight weaving, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them again as if you’ll blink and wake-up and find everything is just a nightmare, a long drawn-out nightmare, though there’s only so long you can keep kidding yourself, and you’re reaching the end of that point rapidly; and it scares the hell out of you.

Because you need them, and you don’t want to wake up and acknowledge they’re gone, or to try to remember their face only for it to be a blur, to forget the languid way their fingers trailed along your ribs as though you were made of the finest porcelain, the way their hair fell in cocoa colored curls and the proud look in their eyes when their mullet ‘finally reached all the way to their crack’. You don’t want to forget how they tasted, or the way they laughed with their entire body, or the way that when you kissed how it felt like everything stopped and the world shrank down to the two of you no matter where you were. You can’t forget them, the memories seared into your brain, but in your head? That’s what moving on resembles. So you remain on the floor, your heart in pieces surrounded by the life you made together, and your tears keep coming in between pleas to the air around you, “Please come home?” though the resounding silence is your only answer. 

[winedispensary]

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[juniperrivers]

Oh, shiny! || Juniper & Skylar

TIMING: Current. LOCATION: Downtown. PARTIES: @juniperrivers @theskyeandsea SUMMARY: Juniper gets ahead of herself and forgets basic human decency of not stealing. Skylar sees her and fixes the situation. Contains: Mentions of chronic illness symptom

Juniper stood with her back to the window, her fingers ghosting over the array of pins displayed before her. They were glinting in the sunlight, so inviting. She couldn’t help herself. She quickly tucked one of the pins underneath of her sleeve, turning towards the door. The sound of somebody entering distracted her enough for the pin to fall from her sleeve. In a rush of bad luck, the woman standing before her looked to the register, then at the pin. “You know that this girl is stealing from you, right?” Juniper felt her stomach drop at the words, the woman’s high pitched voice coming in clearly than she would’ve liked. She glanced towards the register, her facial expression apologetic. “I’m sorry!” Juniper squealed as the woman grabbed onto her arm, dragging her towards the register. She struggled to get free, her fingers digging at the woman’s hand. “Let me go!” She whined. She knew there’d be no getting out of this. She’d be arrested. She’d go to prison. She’d never be able to see Harry Styles in concert. She’d lose everything. Her aunt would hate her. 

Skylar scanned the rows of books of the store, looking for something new to start. After her disastrous Halloween, she’d resigned herself to work and home once again, too afraid that the fangs would reappear, that her blood would cease pumping in her veins. There was too much risk in going out, too much that could go wrong. But, she’d burnt the costume she’d worn that night and, so far, that decision hadn’t come back to haunt her. Which is why she had made the decision to look for a new book on her way back from work. Letting out a sigh, she shook her head. Nothing really caught her eye. As she was about to head out, the sound of conflict caught her attention and she saw a familiar face struggling in the grasp of a very angry looking woman. “Juniper…” She sighed as she made her way towards her old student. Smiling apologetically as she cut in, she began to sign to Juniper, Don’t say anything, okay? Taking the pin from the girl’s hands, she handed it to the clerk. “I’m so sorry, this is one of my students. I lost track of her in the store-- I’m really sorry that she did that.” She said with a shake of her head, signing at Juniper. “I can pay for whatever she took.”

Juniper’s attention redirected to Skylar-- the very blonde and very wonderful Skylar. Yes! She would be saved. She would not go to jail. Juniper tore her arm out of the woman’s grip and sidled next to the older girl, looking up at the woman, then to the shop clerk who looked at them with mild disinterest. Why wasn’t he more upset than the woman? She looked to Skylar and nodded at her instruction. She watched in disappointment as the pin was returned to the counter. The woman beside them let out an exasperated breath, “You can’t just let her get away from this-- she stole from you, you know.” Juniper had every mind to stick her tongue out at her, but her aunt’s words came to mind. Be polite. Be kind. Don’t cause more trouble than you’re already in. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Skylar as she spoke, her gaze on her hands as they moved rapidly. Juniper signed back, letting Skylar know that she didn’t need to do that, that she could pay. She began to pull the money out of her pocket. The shopkeeper looked between the three, an arched brow pulling at the lines in his forehead. “Why’d you steal, kid? You know honesty is the best policy.” Juniper bit down onto her lower lip and pressed the money onto the counter. She signed as she spoke, “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think about it.” The man’s eyes felt like they were going to sear a hole into Juniper’s soul. She reached up to scratch the back of her head before looking at Skylar, signing out, I’m being honest. 

“I’m really very sorry about this,” Skylar apologized to the woman, shaking her head. “I really should have kept a closer eye on her, it’s my mistake. I’m sure she won’t do this again.” She said, signing those words with particular emphasis. How many times had she been called into the office to interpret for the principal, Juniper’s latest cache of stolen goods spread out on the desk between them? As Juniper pulled out her wallet, Skylar sighed. At least the younger girl had the sense to at least pay for it. But, her answer did very little to reassure her. You are, but you should have been honest from the start and paid for it instead of just taking it. I thought you would have learned at school. Skylar signed back before responding to the clerk. “She’s… a little impulsive. Again, I’m so sorry that she did this.”

I’m not a child, Juniper signed. She stepped away from the counter, her hands clasped in front of her. She looked between Skylar and the adults that stood in their way to freedom. Juniper felt guilty, felt guilty to the shopkeeper-- not so much the lady. She looked sad and angry, like she needed wine, as her auntie would have put it. Juniper looked at Skylar with a frown before signing out, I really didn’t mean to, I did learn! She looked to the shopkeeper who looked down at the crumpled bills now next to his register. She watched in amazement as he pushed both the pin and the money towards her. The woman next to them let out a noise, as much as Juniper could tell. She watched the man intently as he spoke, “Take it, kid. The pin ain’t worth much anyways. Just don’t come in here and steal anythin’ again. I can’t promise we’ll have the same outcome.” Without much thinking, Juniper excitedly grabbed her money and the pin, and after a second, she turned back towards the register and set the money back down. “Thank you,” She both signed and said aloud before turning to the woman. She stuck her tongue out and skipped out of the door, barely registering that Skylar was still behind her. 

At the other girl’s sign, Skylar nodded, I know you’re not, but you really need to be more aware of things. She wasn’t entirely sure how sheltered a life Juniper had lived with her parents-- was it a Mean Girls situation? She honestly didn’t know-- but, it was clear that the girl was more than a little out of her element. Which was something Skylar could empathize with. It wasn’t easy, growing up in a hearing world when you weren’t. But, still. Skylar had worked with plenty of students with Deaf families to know that Juniper’s situation was a bit stranger than most. As the shopkeeper let Juniper keep the pin, Skylar nodded in thanks again before hurrying out of the store. As she did, she saw that Juniper was already skipping down the street. Mmmmmmm. Hurrying after the girl, Skylar patted her shoulder before signing, “You,” Skylar paused. Did she really want to start this conversation again? She’d tried to convince the girl that stealing was wrong many times before when they’d sat in the principal's office, but it never really stuck, “How is school going?” She signed instead.

Juniper whipped around as Skylar put her hand on her shoulder. She watched as the girl began to sign, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. She had gotten out of it, and she had gotten to keep the pin! Not without paying for it, but still. “School is great,” Juniper signed back quickly, nearly dropping her pin. She quickly tucked it into her pocket and continued, “I’m learning a lot, but,” she spoke this aloud, “oh my GOD, is it hard!” She dropped her hands to her sides and looked beyond Skylar, then looked back to meet her gaze. “Why were you there?” She signed, looking back to the shop, “you saved my butt!” Juniper giggled, twisting around to grab the back of her bag, pushing the pin into it. It was displayed among several others, all of the same color variety. “That woman ruined everything,” Juniper signed out, her expression growing sour. 

Skylar hadn’t exactly forgotten how high energy Juniper was, but she’d gotten used to the girl’s absence. Moments like these, when she ran into her again, reminded her just how upbeat she was. Which, there was nothing wrong with that-- not at all. It was just a little tiring somedays. Particularly, her teeth chewed into the side of her cheek as her muscles ached in that familiar way, during times like now. “College takes some time to adjust to, mhm.” Skylar hummed, speaking and signing at once. At Juniper’s question, she shrugged. “I was looking for a new book. I didn’t find anything, though, so I’d be on my way out.” She said before frowning at Juniper. “She was right, though. You can’t just take things that aren’t yours.”

Growing up with a pod instead of other humans had caused a delay in Juniper’s development, especially socially. She was friendly-- overly friendly, maybe. Even now, she had no idea that not only did her actions have consequences, but that Skylar was clearly tired with the amount of energy that she was exerting. “What kind of book?” Juniper sounded out the words, signing rapidly alongside them. “I know that, but it was an honest mistake!” Juniper hadn’t thought twice before slipping the pin underneath her sleeve. She hadn’t quite figured out that even if it had been a mistake, she was still responsible for her actions. Juniper pulled a bottle of water out of her backpack and took a drink, nearly draining half of it. “Do you want some?” Juniper asked, thrusting the bottle towards her tutor. 

“Mm, anything really. I was hoping to find a new sci-fi book,” Skylar said, “But I think I might have better luck at The Archive next time.” The only books the shop had stocked were mass-market paperbacks, which were either war stories or murder mysteries. Which, honestly, she got enough of that in her day to day life here in White Crest. She didn’t need to read about it too. As Juniper continued to sign, Skylar did her best not to sigh. “Honest mistakes happen, mhm. They just tend to stop happening after the fifth or sixth or twentieth time.” She said, chiding the other girl slightly. When Juniper shoved the water bottle in her face, Skylar flinched backwards, caught off guard by the gesture. “I-- No, I’m good. Thank you.” She signed, shifting a bit to put some more distance between the two of them.

Twentieth time, Juniper thought, as if. She retracted the bottle of water and recapped it, shoving it back into her bag. She looked over her pins again with a smile before pulling the straps of her backpack onto her shoulder, tugging it close to her. “If I see any Sci-Fi books,” Juniper began to sign out, stopping abruptly at the sight of an ice cream truck that was only a block or so away. She pointed at it, then looked at Skylar, “my auntie says I’m not allowed, but she isn’t here, do you want some?” She knew it’d be a bad idea, that she’d feel sick later, but there was nobody to stop her, and it wasn’t as if Skylar knew what’d happen. Though, she was sure her aunt had passed her off for being lactose intolerant or something. Before Skylar could respond, she was moving towards the truck that started off in a separate direction. “No! Come back!” Juniper shouted, her head thrown back in faux agony. 

If she saw any Sci-Fi books, Skylar really hoped that she would just leave them alone. She really didn’t want to have to go around returning books to the shops or the library because Juniper had gotten over excited and taken off without paying for a book. But, much to her relief, Juniper was distracted by the sight of an ice cream truck rolling down the street. Skylar hadn’t heard the high pitched jingle over the sound of street noise and the conversation she’d been having with the younger girl. “I-- No, I’m lactose intolerant.” Skylar said weakly but the girl was already running towards the truck. Only for it to continue on its way, leaving the two of them behind. “Ah… Well, maybe it’s for the best? It’s a bit cold for ice cream anyways.” She said, though it wasn’t really true. Her warm selkie blood kept her warm, even with the chill of winter beginning to creep in the air.

“Me too, but that’s never stopped me.” Juniper signed at Skylar. The only reason she had noticed the truck was because it was something she was always on the lookout for it-- she could pick out the truck anywhere. “It’s not for the best, but it’s fine, I’ll get it somewhere else.” Juniper smoothed her fingers through her hair and looked at Skylar, gaze focused on the way her lips moved. “It’s never too cold for ice cream.” She countered back with a grin. Just then, a vibration in her pocket grabbed her attention, and she was met with a text message from her aunt. “Oh! Shoot. I have to go.” She shoved her phone back into her pocket and hurriedly walked back towards Skylar, closing the space between them with a one-armed hug. “Bye!” She shouted as she turned on her heel, her short legs taking her to the edge of the street where, once out of Skylar’s view, she would break out into an awkward sprint to beat her aunt home. She had totally forgotten to take the chicken out of the freezer. 

[teddy-bear-surprise]

Chapter 2: The Brink of Darkness

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 Part 1 || Chapter 7 Part 2 || Chapter 8 || Almost The End || Chapter 9 ||

WARNING: Mentions of death/murder and excessive drinking

It was nearing five o'clock when Ophelia wandered through the aisles of some random corner store in Downtown LA, picking up, examining, and adding items to her basket. She was thinking about what to do for New Years', only two weeks remained before she would enter 2018 and she could not wait to celebrate. She considered crashing a party in LA, staying at home and watching the ball drop on the television, or possibly even flying out to New York to see it for herself.

Ophelia had made a lot of money in her youth, showered in promotions and offers from some of the biggest engineering companies in the United States and beyond. Now, at the age of thirty-seven, she rarely had to work anymore. Her days and nights were generally spent in the solitude of her home, simply reading or researching novelties. It was rare for Ophelia to go out and travel, so visiting New York City on New Years' sounded like a swell idea. She nursed the idea as she walked, deciding to look into it further once she returned home and she continued her shopping.

The first items that she picked up were two fresh linen-scented candles, one bottle of acetone, and a nice bottle of cheap, red wine. It felt like just yesterday she had turned twenty-one and buying alcohol still felt like a crime... frankly, a lot of things she did felt like that. She was about to enter the snack aisle to look for some decadent snacks, but she heard a television chittering from the front of the store, catching her attention.

"One more dead celebrity this morning, it's absolutely tragic. Rachel, what do you think is happening? These murders are scaring everyone, myself included."

"Well, Diego, it seems as though the perpetrator, or possibly perpetrators, are targeting rich, male celebrities. Why exactly, we do not know. More about the Golden Murders after this break–"

Ophelia was amused by their ignorance, "If only they knew who those men really were," she thought to herself.

An ad began playing and Ophelia's attention was once more drawn to her hunger. She found the popcorn first, stocking up on three boxes of the salty snack before searching for her other craving. Once she added a bar of dark chocolate to her now overflowing basket, she headed towards the checkout lines.

She acted incredibly nonchalant, her expression never faltered from its indifferent norm, even as the clerk conversed with her.

"You see what they just showed on the news? Scary stuff, huh?" The cashier looked up at Ophelia, raising his eyebrows.

"Uhhh, yeah. It is kind of scary, I guess. I'm not a man though, so I don't really think I have to worry," she did not want to divulge much on the subject, preferring to keep an ambiguous expression.

The cashier ignored her dismissive tone and continued rambling on, "Y'know, when the first one happened I wasn't that surprised, these rich people can get mixed up in some shady things sometimes so I was like, 'It's just one dead rich man, what's the big deal?' But now. Now, I'm definitely thinking that something's up. Either they're all in the same cult," he lowered his voice and leaned towards Ophelia who withdrew from him.

"Or they've all done something really, really bad," he straightened up again and finished scanning her items, "Your total is gonna be twenty-three dollars and forty-eight cents. Cash or card?"

His demeanor returned to normal and Ophelia shrugged off the odd tangent he had gone off on before replying, "Cash, exact change," and picking up her bag as she dropped her money on the counter.

She exited the store quickly and threw her purchase into the front, passenger's seat of her 1982 Chevrolet Citation. A classic, but somewhat ugly, light blue car. She inserted her key into the ignition, pushed down on her brake pedal, and twisted it a few times as the engine sputtered. Annoyed at her junk car, she smacked her hand against the key angrily. This time when she turned it, however, the engine started. She pulled out of the crowded, street-side parking spot and started on her way home.

Her brain was clouded and churning, both hating and loving all of the attention she was indirectly receiving on the news. Despite slightly enjoying the attention, she wished people would not talk about it as much, especially if they were spending most of the time idolizing the abusive men who were killed. Even opening the windows to feel the brisk air as she drove did nothing to clear her mind. She turned to her last resort, the radio. She cranked up the volume, which was not actually loud at all, and turned the station to one that was playing one of her favorite songs from the 2012 era. Ophelia sang along loudly, enjoying the rhythm and lyrics equally.

When the song ended though, the station's hosts brought up the Golden Murders once more, infuriating her and her grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"So, we've just received news that federal law enforcement will now be taking interest in this upsetting case. What do you think of this?"

"I think that it's a great idea. I have no doubt that our local law enforcement was doing their best, but these are celebrities we're talking about, their faces are plastered everywhere and people look up to them. It's scaring people, you know? The faster they can get to the bottom of this, the better."

"You heard it here first, folks. The FBI will be landing here in LA in two days, whoever is behind these murders, you better buckle up buddy. Until next time on 97.9, the station of your dreams!"

Ophelia rolled her eyes and clicked it off, so much for escaping her problems. She hated the way that these reporters always made her feel like the prey when in reality, she was the hunter. But she was not the only hunter in this game. Her partner, Catherine, was just as guilty and probably nowhere near as worried as Ophelia. She was almost certain that it was just Catherine's clinically psychotic tendencies that gave her the upper hand in situations like these, but she still felt a tinge of jealousy.

She had met Catherine 'Cat' Adams a few years ago on Tinder. Cat's profile surprised her, bringing all of the spunk of a younger woman, despite being only a year younger than Ophelia, but without the immaturity. On their first date, they went out to one of those silly drive-in movies and watched the worst possible movie in cinematic existence. It did not matter to them though because they talked the entire time, sharing their favorite and their most hated things about life.

Ophelia soon realized that she and Catherine were near mirror images of each other, in terms of ideologies at least. After only three more dates, the two became an official couple. Cat even admitted, two months into their relationship, that she never intended to make a Tinder account and said that it was much too irresponsible in her line of work. When Ophelia asked Cat what this line of work was, she received a very ambiguous answer.

"I'd love to tell you, hun, but I don't think I can. Not yet, at least. Maybe someday," she could remember Cat tucking her hair behind her ear and cupping her chin as she said this next part, "when we've been together for longer, I might even invite you to come work with me."

She never expected that a couple of years later, she and Cat would become a murderous duo, slightly resembling the women of the musical, Chicago. Though they had broken up the first time that Cat was sent to prison, they remained extremely close and it was not until she escaped in August that they began their moonlight endeavors.

According to Catherine, it had been 'shockingly' easy and 'way too fun' to escape, not even requiring her to employ her 'Plan B'. Ophelia did not even know that she would be seeing Cat again within the century, but when she showed up on Ophelia's doorstep in the middle of the night, her ex-lover could not help but let her back into her life.

Cat's slightly off-kilter and bold mannerisms were some of Ophelia's favorite things about her. Now, unfortunately, Cat was forced to be much more low-key. She drove the most average car in existence, a run-down 2008 Toyota Corolla; lived in an extremely average apartment with one room and one bathroom; and looked like the average Los Angelean thirty-year-old-woman with her now blonde hair.

Ophelia paid for all of Cat's expenses, like her apartment and groceries, and though it barely dented her pockets, she always made sure that Catherine respected the fact that she was spending Ophelia's money and not her own. They had an incredibly symbiotic relationship, of course, living apart did make some aspects more difficult. Ophelia took care of all of the necessities, such as materials and planning and Cat took care of the creative aspects of their 'activities'.

They could not fully remember how it all happened. It started innocently with some tequila shots and the celebration of Cat's return. Within an hour, however, the two were stumbling around drunk and preaching their hatred for their abusive fathers and men in general which, for a while, was fine. Suddenly things took a turn when Cat asked if Ophelia had ever considered killing her father. Ophelia laughed drunkenly for a few minutes before managing to spit out the fact that he was already dead. The two of them burst into a cacophony of drunken laughter that rang throughout her house. When they calmed down though, Cat asked again, this time even more serious. The rest, including a bit of an entanglement between them, was history because what happens on a drunken night, stays in the drunken night.

For some reason, thinking about her and Cat's history brought her a sense of peace. So much so that she was already pulling into her driveway when she switched her train of thought. The yellow-beige tones of her house repulsed her, but they were neutral and bland, practically guaranteeing that she would stay out of people's line of sight. Ophelia opened her car door, leaning her elbow on the top of it, and looked behind her admiring the landscape of the mountains that surrounded her home, because even if the home itself was ugly, at least it had a good view. She leaned back into her car to grab her purse and shopping bag before slamming the car door and heading towards its trunk. Inside, she retrieved a trash bag, which although very large and cold, was surprisingly light and easy to carry.

She carried all of these into her house, struggling to open the door with only one free hand, and set them down near her back door. After writing down a quick note to look more into the idea of going to New York, Ophelia began putting up her new purchases. She was incredibly tired and not entirely in the mood to do menial cleaning duties but continued anyway. The two candles each earned a spot on either side of her countertop, the wine went into her refrigerator, and the snacks got tossed into the pantry. The acetone, on the other hand, got a very special spot in her pocket. She carried it with her outside, picking up the trash bag on her way to her backyard.

Ophelia stopped in front of an oddly-shaped fire-pit, one of her own inventions from her time at MIT (it seemed useless at the time but now came in handy), and lifted its cover. It featured a thick, steel, rounded lid and a sturdy concrete body. She dumped out the contents of the trash bag into the strange pit, promptly followed by her pouring out the bottle of acetone and banging the top shut. After waiting a few seconds, enough time for enough of the acetone to accumulate inside the pit in its gaseous form, she clicked a small red button and heard a blast go off inside. It had been specially designed to withstand the accumulated pressure of an incredibly powerful flash fire, though the ones she was creating were not very large. A few more seconds later, following the activation of the pit's exhaust system, Ophelia opened it back up to reveal the ashes of her once bloodied clothing.

She coughed at the pungent smell and rushed back inside to where there was cleaner air. Even within her house, the smell followed her, so she decided to light her two new candles and take a shower.

When she exited, her stomach let out a low grumble which she felt deeply. Ophelia shuffled over to her refrigerator to grab a slice of cold pizza. She devoured it hungrily, still feeling unsatisfied. Now turning to her second plan, wine and popcorn, she pranced to her pantry, grabbing the popcorn, and then to her fridge to retrieve the wine. Ophelia carefully poured herself a glass of the red liquid as she waited for her bag of the unhealthy, salty snack in the microwave to finish popping. Once the microwave dinged, it was time for her to start the party.

She downed her first glass of wine in one continuous gulp and turned on some absurdly loud music, which, thanks to her somewhat isolated location, no one else could hear. Ophelia now danced with a hand full of popcorn and the bottle of wine in the other. It had barely been ten minutes and she was already drunk. She stumbled into her kitchen to grab some more popcorn from the bag when she saw her phone light up out of the corner of her eye. Ophelia tried to distinguish the name that had appeared on her screen, but her vision was much too blurred for her to tell.

"It's probably nothing, just a scam call... I mean, who else would call me at," She tried to read the clock on the wall, "I don't know, but it's late why can't they just leave me alone."

Her drunken thoughts slurred together as she ignored her phone, only inciting her to increase the volume of her already blaring music. Popcorn, in her drunken state and time of night, tasted extra good and Ophelia finished the bag almost immediately. She rounded the corner, into her living room, and continued to dance to the beat of the music with the bottle in her left hand. Her clumsy feet stumbled slightly, leading her to bump into a bookshelf.

Ophelia looked up at the bookshelf angrily, almost as if it was a real person that she had bumped into, but her eyes softened when they settled upon a picture frame. "'Germs'", she recalled lovingly as she touched the glass gently. It was a framed photograph of her and Spencer at their first Science Olympiad competition.

They were the only members on their team, but it did not matter because they still managed to garner themselves a shining, first place trophy. She remembered how difficult it had been to convince the teachers at her school to let them start the club, how they spent hours going over budgets, fundraising, and game plans. More than anything though, she remembered how happy Spencer had been to take home his very own prize.

A feeling of sadness and longing welled up inside her, wishing she could be as innocent as that girl in the photograph, wishing that she had not lost contact with her first 'best friend'. Alas, the night was coming to an end and she could not bear the pain of her sorrows, so with another prolonged swig, Ophelia finished the bottle of wine.

She gave it a few minutes to act, turning off her music and sitting herself down on her couch awkwardly, before feeling its sedating effects. Quietly, she placed the bottle on the ground and looked up once more at the picture on her bookshelf while her heavy eyes closed for a night of dreamless sleep.

[tortleofwar]

Malcolm

It wasn't even Monday and things had started to go downhill. Malcolm rounded the corner to his restaurant and was greeted with the sight of shattered glass and an alarm going crazy. Shaking his head he trudged through the puddles to reach the front door. Once inside Malcolm poured himself a glass of Crown Royal and sat at the bar. This night could only get worse if he was blamed for this.

Malcolm had gotten the alert about the restaurant an hour ago and jumped out of bed immediately. While racing down the stairs he'd forgotten his keys and locked himself out. No keys meant no car. So Malcolm had to walk throw the the rain with no umbrella or coat to protect him from the storm. His soaked and muddy attire gained stares and giggles as he made his way through the busy downtown streets.

Cars splashed him as they drove past. No taxis would stop to pick him up and the building was an hour away. Whoever broke in would surely get away with whatever it was they were looking for. Malcolm's pm prayed the cops showed before he got there to sort everything out. But his prayers fell on deaf ears that night.

After finishing his drink, Malcolm walked through to see what the damage was going to cost him. The front windows and glass door alone would total close to $6,000. That deserves another drink. It would take months to pay off a loan that size. Malcolm walked to the back, glass in hand.

Multiple utensils were missing but nothing too important. Dishes shattered on the floor. Some food items were missing, but Sunday was Malcolm's shopping day to restock the business. For the life of him, Malcolm couldn't think of who would do this and how no one saw it. The streets were packed, cars flew past at least once every two minutes, and the cops had yet to arrive.

Swirling his drink Malcolm headed to the front to top off his glass. He looked up to see three cops with guns pointed and fearful looks in their eyes. Malcolm raised his hands as he rolled his eyes.

"Here we go again." He thought as the three cops trained their weapons on him. "Ain't this about a..."

One cop put their gun down and walked carefully towards him. Malcolm could see her Auburn hair under her cap and a pair of green eyes staring at him. The last time he got lost in a pair of green eyes was Helen ten years ago. The chances of this being her were slim.

"Malcolm Little?" A soft voice called out quizzically. "From Drover Way?"

Malcolm had left that part of his life behind. If someone knew him from there he'd have been better off with the cops shooting. In an attempt to garner good will Malcolm responded.

"Yeah. That's me. Who are you?"

"Guns down guys. This guy couldn't hurt a fly let alone rob a joint like this." There was a slight giggle to her words as she waved off her partners. Returning her attention to Malcolm she asked, "You don't remember me do you?"

"Helen?" Malcolm guessed. His hands were still raised as he tried to get a better look at her. "Is that you?"

"Helen was my daughter. You two were nearly inseparable." She removed her cap and shook out her ponytail.

"Mrs. Williams?" Malcolm stumbled over her s words as he looked her up and down. "It's been decades. You look great."

"Thank you darling." She posed playfully and approached for a hug. During the embrace she whispered, "It's Ms."

Malcolm pulled away and tilted his head at Ms. Williams.  Although his heart had belonged to Helen, he’d have been lying if he said the thought never crossed his mind.  But now wasn’t the time for that. He broke the eye contact and noticed the awkward stances from the other officers. Walking behind the bar he lifted three glasses and pointed to the wall.

“I assume there needs to be a report filed.  Pick your poison and I can tell you what I know.”

Behind the bar was a wall of alcohol. Different rums, vodkas,and other exotic glasses were lined up on three shelves.  Malcolm slid the glasses out to three stools and gestured for them to sit.  The two male officers raised their hands to decline while Ms. Williams bounced onto a stool.  She stared up at the shelves looking over each bottle.

“We are still on the clock. To imbibe in any libations would be against the rules.” Cop 1 waved his hands while shaking his head.  “We just need to get the report and we can move on.”

“We can wrap this up in five minutes and be on our way.”  Cop 2 looked at Ms. Williams.  “Deputy if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ve only got 30 minutes left on my shift.”  She turned to look at her peers.  “I can get the report and have it back at the station if you guys want to leave.”

“Are you sure?”  Cop 2 looked Malcolm over again.  “We wouldn’t want to leave you in a dangerous situation.”

“She laughed at this remark.  “I told you he couldn’t hurt a fly.  Besides, when it comes to me, he knows to be on his p’s and q’s.”

Malcolm blushed and shook his head as she said all this.  He’d already started to pour his third glass to  sip on.  The cops looked at each other and shrugged.  Turning for the door they looked back one last time.

“I could cuff him to the bar if it would make you guys feel better.”  She teased them and winked at Malcolm.  “I’ll take my cruiser home for the night.  Will you guys let the Captain know what went down.”

Her laughter could be heard as the cops left the building.  Turning her attention back to the wall, Ms. Williams continued to gawk at the selection.  Her brow knotted, she sighed and slumped down.

“I could really go for a sweet wine right now.  Drink off the day's worries.”  She reached for a notepad and turned to see a bottle of Tokaji Aszu on the bar.  With a smile she pushed her glass forward.  “You’ve traveled I see.”

“I needed something to take my mind off of this place.”  Malcolm swapped her glass for a flute.  “No matter how far away I got though, my heart always wanted to come home.”

“Is that why you  came to your parents’ restaurant tonight?”  As she sipped her wine, she looked around writing details about the building to file in the report.

“This is actually my business.  My parents have more experience running a business so I left them in charge while I take online classes.”  Malcolm moved around the bar to sit next to Ms. williams.  “If you don’t mind me asking…”

“Helen has fallen off the map.  The last time I saw her was when you two split.  Jessie picked up a guitar and left town.  That boy has always had a flair for presentation.  He’s part of that band Swaying Hills.”  She took another sip of wine.  “Aleina is actually getting married next Autumn.  They are coming back here and having a small ceremony.  I hope everyone can get back in time for it.”

“That sums up my curiosity.  Is there anything you need for the report Ms Williams?”

“Aside from the obvious damage, what else was taken?”

“A few utensils from the back. Some of my pots and pans are also gone.  I’m not worried about the food they took.  Today is my market day. Mom drags me to every store to make sure we have the freshest ingredients.”  Malcolm looked her over again.  Straightened hair, horn rimmed glasses, and a uniform.  He could have been in love if it were another woman.

“Alright.  Do you have any idea who might want to hurt you or who would do this?”  She shook her glass to signal that it needed a refill.

With a chuckle, Malcolm slid off the stool and proceeded around the bar.  Vanessa’s eyes followed him as she pretended to write in her notepad.  With a lick of her lips and a shudder she returned to her work.  Malcolm refilled the glass and opted to stay behind the bar.

The conversation bounced between work and catching up.  Vanessa polished off a bottle and a half of wine before they were finished with her work.  As she headed for the door Malcolm watched her hips sway with the seductive expertise of a woman.  The girls he’d been bedding paled in comparison to what he was seeing.  Dirty images filled his mind as Malcolm’s eyes trailed up her body.  He eventually locked eyes with Vanessa and turned away embarrassed.

Pleased that she could still catch the eyes of young studs, Vanessa leaned against the doorway.  Her pose caused the frame to draw full attention to her breast.  Vanessa waited for Malcolm to return his attention to her.  She slowly stroked the frame while eying him.

“How are you going to lock up with the front exposed like this?”  Vanessa’s voice was heavy with seduction.  Malcolm’s shifted posture told her it hit its mark.  So she continued while bending to touch the bottom of the frame.  “If you have the wood for this job, I’m sure I could help you finish it off.”

Malcolm was biting his lower lip and twisting his face.  His thoughts of her were not what he should have in his head.  This woman had raised the girl he once thought was his soulmate.  Maybe it was the wine or it could have been the circumstances, but she was teasing him and Malcolm wasn’t the type to back away from a challenge.

Once he’d regained composure, Malcolm proceeded to the front room.  He drew down the solid metal walls that were normally used to keep the store safe at night.  Malcolm brushed past Vanessa close enough to smell the perfume she was wearing.  He pulled down the other wall with a look of superiority.  Malcolm returned to Vanessa who had returned to her original leaning pose.

“That should do it.”  Malcolm gestured for her to lead the way.  “After you.”

Vanessa’s sway was not deterred by Malcolm’s efforts. Evident in her walk and twirl to lock eyes as she moved towards the cruiser.  Malcolm gave enough space to get a good view of her body while remaining close enough to let her know he was interested.  As she slid her hand over the roof and Malcolm got closer, Vaness pushed out her rear to bump into Malcolm.

In an instant Malcolm was slammed into the cruiser and pressed into the door.  He felt Vanessa’s breasts heave as her breath brushed past his ear.  A look of shock and concern coated his face as he looked back to see what she was doing.

“Assaulting an off duty officer is a VERY serious offense Mr. Little.” Vanessa’s free hand started patting him down starting at the shoulders and running down his side.  Eventually she got a handful of cheeks.  The concern left his face as only surprise could describe what Malcolm was feeling. Vanessa disappeared for a brief second and found its way to his crotch.

“A hidden weapon?  I’ll have to take you to confiscate this and ask some questions.”

Vanessa slapped on the cuffs on the crowded street and shoved Malcolm into the back seat.  She slammed the door and got up front.  Malcolm sat in surprised silence as the car turned down back roads and sped through intersections.  Eventually the streets began to look familiar and Malcolm realized they must be heading to her house.

As they approached the house Vanessa showed no signs of slowing down.  Malcolm gawked at  the house as they passed it. The color and life itself looked like it had been drained from it.  An eyesore on the neighborhood if he was being honest.  Vanessa turned down another street and drove to the end of a cul de sac.  Malcolm used to play ball at the house they parked at.  Mr. Jerome would always play against the kids two on one, but he never lost a game.

Vanessa pulled into the driveway and got out. She opened the back door and let Malcolm out.  As he marveled at the house she shoved him up the path to the front door.  In a flash it seemed like he was inside.  Warm lighting greeted him and the yelp of a small dog.  Vanessa didn;t undo the cuffs as she led him away.

“Searge we got a serious offender here.”  The once approaching yelps began to fade as if redirected.

“That’s a well trained dog.”

“Shut up criminal.”  Vanessa barked.  She leaned in to lick at his ear.  “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”  Malcolm figured it was best to play along rather than fight this.  Why talk yourself out of a good time?  “This is extreme misuse of power.”

“I got you on camera.  Assaulting a uniformed officer.”  Vanessa threw Malcolm onto a couch.  “And sexually no less.”

“Look, it wasn’t even like that. I was just trying to get past you.”  Malcolm looked around noticing the interior decor.  It was filled with various flowers and light colored birds.  “My bad if you took it that way.”

“So you’re saying I got the facts wrong?”  Vanessa leaned down.  Malcolm noticed half of her buttons were undone. Underneath her uniform was a black lace bra fitted to show ample cleavage and give the girls a lift.  “I didn’t find this dangerous weapon on you?”

Vanessa reached again but this time her face showed confusion.  She looked from his crotch to his eyes with bewilderment in her face.  Malcolm shrugged.

“You have to warm up the engine before you take it for a drive.”  He lifted his brow seductively.  “But the ride always brings satisfaction.”

After hearing his words Vanessa backed away and undid her belt. She swayed and gyrated her hips as she turned away from Malcolm.  She looked over her shoulder as the sound of her zipper was heard.  Vanessa walked backwards to wiggle her butt in Malcolm’s face as she pulled her pants down.  To his surprise there wasn’t anything underneath.  Malcolm looked on, licking his lips and enjoying the show.

Vanessa kicked her pants into a corner and turned to face Malcolm again.  His eyes drank in her sexy visage.  Toned legs, wide hips, and ample breast all laid out in front of him.  Malcolm tried to reach but was reminded he was still cuffed.  Vanessa walked towards him as she undid the rest of her buttons.  As she approached her smile grew.

“I see we have found that weapon you hid so well earlier.”  Dropping the shirt on the ground, Vanessa crawled towards Malcolm.  “By the looks of it we could be dealing with a magnum. Thick.  Heavy. Fully loaded.”

“Look ma’am.  If you’re so convinced I have a weapon then search me thoroughly and find out for yourself that I’m innocent.”  Malcolm locked eyes with Vanessa and lifted his chin for her to get closer.  “When I’m proven innocent, I expect to be compensated for my wasted time.”

“I intend to search you thoroughly.  Make no qualms about that.” Vanessa climbed up Malcolm’s body and stopped when she was eye level with him.  “And what you see as a waste, I see as building police/community relations.”

Vanessa kissed Malcolm hard and forced her tongue into his mouth.  When she broke the kiss Malcolm found a metallic taste in his mouth.  He pushed out a key and looked down at Vanessa.

“If you can get out before I get you off the game continues.”

[manjimelody]

Champagne Truffles

Pairing: Weiszmura  Setting: Modern AU Surprise @theweiszguy! I’m your secret santa! Enjoy some lovey dovey Weiszmura since I know that they’re your current otp. Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!!

Weisz stood in front of the mirror, fumbling with his tie. Witch and Ivry were hosting a New Year’s Eve party at their home, so Weisz had decided to use the festive occasion to surprise his lovely girlfriend when the clock struck midnight. However, his mind started getting clouded with all the things that could possibly go wrong as the time to leave for the party got closer. 

“Are you nervous?” the sound of his roommate’s voice snapped the blonde out of his thoughts. 

“Shiki, is it cheesy to propose on New Year’s?” Weisz replied, dodging his question.  

Shiki shrugged his shoulders. “I guess some people would consider it cheesy, but who cares what some people might think. Rebecca thinks it’s cute and romantic and honestly so do I.” 

Weisz faked a sigh and smirked. “I don’t know if I can trust that. You and Rebecca can be a pretty cringey couple.” 

“Do you want my advice or not?” Shiki snapped as Weisz laughed. “By the way, you didn’t answer my question earlier.” 

“What question?” Weisz asked, feigning ignorance. 

“I asked if you were nervous about tonight.” 

Weisz rubbed the back of his neck. He figured might as well tell the truth. They had grown very close over the years they lived together, so Shiki could easily tell if he was lying. “Yeah.. I guess...I mean what if Homura says no?” 

“I doubt she would say no. You two have been together for 4 years. She really loves you, “ Shiki pointed out, patting his back. 

Weisz smiled at his words, memories of their romantic getaways over the years flooding his mind. “Thanks buddy. That makes me feel better. I love her, and I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with her.” 

“Wow you are so whipped. I can’t believe the Weisz who used to bring a girl home every weekend during college wants to settle down and get married,” Shiki teased, causing the blonde’s cheeks to flush. 

“Oh please. As if you aren’t totally whipped for Rebecca,” he huffed, causing Shiki to laugh. 

“Hey I didn’t say I wasn’t,” Shiki winked, causing Weisz to roll his eyes. 

The sound of a few knocks on the door caught their attention. Weisz glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost seven indicating that it was probably Homura and Rebecca at the door. Shiki had already rushed out into the living room before Weisz could react.  

“And he says that I’m whipped,” Weisz chuckled to himself. 

Weisz walked out to the living room, his jaw dropping as Homura walked through the front door in all her glory. She donned a long midnight blue dress with a slit on her left thigh and a plunging neckline that complimented her voluptuous figure. Weisz had to restrain himself from drooling. She looked gorgeous.  

“Wow Weisz, I didn’t know your eyes were that big,” Rebecca teased as Shiki laughed with her. 

Weisz ignored his friend’s jokes, continuing to marvel at his beautiful girlfriend. Homura smiled and waved as she walked up to him. She poked at his chest and giggled. “You’re like a statue.” 

Weisz smirked, placing his hands on her hips. “No you’re the actual work of art here. I just had to admire you.” 

Homura smiled before closing the gap between them into a sweet kiss. “Thank you. You look very handsome yourself.” 

 “I don’t mean to interrupt, but we should head out soon. Ivry will chew us out if we’re late,” Rebecca pointed out.  

“True. I don’t want to listen to her nag,” Weisz sighed. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed the box of sweets off the counter as the others gathered their things. 

“What are you taking?” Homura asked as Weisz grabbed the car keys. 

“I got the chocolate champagne truffles from the lindt store. I know how much you love those. I can give you one now if you want,” Weisz offered. 

Homura’s eyes brightened in excitement for a second before her lips curved into a frown. “No thanks. I-uh-don’t feel like eating one today.” 

Weisz raised his eyebrow in confusion. She never said no to eating one of these truffles. “Are you sure?”  

“Um yeah.”

Weisz eyed her suspiciously. He understood that sometimes people weren’t in the mood for certain treats, but her initial excited look proved otherwise. He decided to let it go since there were more important things to focus on like the box with the ring in his pocket. 

***

When they reached Witch and Ivry’s large apartment, they were immediately enveloped into a warm hug by Witch. After they exchanged their greetings, Weisz felt Ivry wrap her arm around his shoulder. “So I heard from Shiki that you’re planning on proposing to Homura tonight.” 

“Yeah I’m going to do it after midnight.” 

Ivry’s lips curved into a smug smile. “If you guys would like to have some alone time after, the guest room is open for you.” 

Weisz felt his cheeks burn at her blunt remark. “I don’t know if Witch would like that.” 

“She doesn’t have to know. Just don’t be too loud,” Ivry winked, wiggling her eyebrows. 

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind,” Weisz waved her off. It’s not that the idea of sneaking off with Homura wasn’t appealing to him, but he knew Homura liked to keep their bedroom adventures in their own bed. 

The rest of the night was filled with chatting, dancing, games, eating, and lots of laughter. It was already reaching midnight before they realized the time. 

“Hah is he drunk?” Weisz questioned in amusement as Shiki wrapped his arms around Rebecca, refusing to let her go.  

“I think so. He had two shots of whiskey,” Rebecca informed, patting Shiki’s head.  

“Only two? What a lightweight,” Weisz snorted, taking a sip of his sparkling wine. 

“Only five more minutes until midnight,” Witch announced to the guests, opening the window blinds. “We’ll get a good view of the fireworks being set off in downtown from here.” 

“You guys can also step out onto the balcony if you want,” Ivry added. 

“Let’s go out to the balcony!” Homura exclaimed, causing Shiki to groan. 

“But it’s cold!” 

Weisz rolled his eyes. “It’s only 60 degrees, you baby.”

Shiki shook his head. “Still cold.” 

Rebecca sighed. “You two can go. I’ll stay inside with him.”  

“Thanks!” Weisz and Homura stepped out onto the balcony, marveling at the view of the city in front of them. They stood there for a few moments in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s presence. 

“Years go by so quickly. I hope next year will treat us well,” Homura spoke up. 

“I hope so too. I have a feeling it will,” Weisz agreed, reaching for the box inside his pocket.  

“Only twenty more seconds left until midnight! Let’s do a countdown!” Ivry yelled, causing the guests inside to cheer. “10! 9! 8! 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1! Happy New Year!!”   

Homura turned to Weisz and took his hands in hers. “Happy New Year, Weisz! I love you!” 

Weisz grinned, locking his fingers with hers. “Happy New Year. I love you too!” 

Weisz tilted his head to capture her soft lips with his as the fireworks started booming in the sky. It was a perfect moment that Weisz wished would never end, but it was time for something more important. After they reluctantly broke the kiss, Weisz stared into Homura’s eyes adoringly. He was ready for his next move. “Homura, I have something to tell yo-” 

“I’m pregnant!” 

“What?!” 

Weisz stared at Homura in shock as she quickly covered her mouth with her hand, realizing what she just confessed. Homura lowered her gaze, blushing deeply. “Sorry. I found out two days ago, and I’ve been wanting to tell you but I was kind of scared of how you would react. I didn’t mean to keep it fro- mmph!” 

Weisz cut her off with a kiss, grinning from ear to ear after he pulled away. “I can’t believe this. I’m going to be a father. This works out perfectly!” 

“What do you mean? You’re not angry?” Homura questioned, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Of course not. I have no right to anyway since I'm the one who knocked you up. Actually, I’ve been wanting to ask you something all night,” Weisz took out the box from his pocket and got down on one knee, causing Homura to gasp. “Homura Kougetsu, you are the most amazing and badass woman I have ever met. Before I met you, I used to sleep with any girl I met at the club. Not bothering to call them again the next day. However, everything changed after you came into my life. You taught me what it’s like to love someone unconditionally. You changed me. I was able to become a better person thanks to you. I can’t imagine my life without you so will you marry me?” 

Homura placed her hand over her heart, a bright smile appearing on her countenance. “Yes! Yes! I will marry you, Weisz!” 

Weisz put the ring on her finger, and she jumped into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. Weisz laughed and kissed her deeply. “Thank you, Homura. I’m so excited to get married and meet our baby!”   

“I am too. I’m so happy that you want to spend the rest of your life with me. I was worried about how you were going to react to me being pregnant since we didn’t plan this, but I had no reason to be worried after all,” Homura confessed. 

Weisz bent down and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head against her stomach. “I’m ready for anything if it’s with you. Whether we have a son or a daughter, I know they’re going to be as good looking as us and as badass as you!”  

“Hopefully if we have a son, he won’t sleep around like you did before we started dating,” Homura teased, causing Weisz to playfully scoff. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s a gentleman, “ Weisz assured as he stood back up. “By the way, is that why you refused to have a champagne truffle earlier?” 

Homura nodded. “Yeah I heard that it’s bad to have alcohol when you’re pregnant. I know that my excuse was lame. I’m bad at lying, but I didn’t want you to find out yet.” 

“Yeah I found it weird, but it’s fine. This was an amazing surprise. Funny how we both ended up surprising each other,” Weisz pointed out, causing Homura to laugh in agreement. 

Weisz leaned forward so that his mouth would be right next to her ear. “So future Mrs. Steiner. Ivry told us that we could use the guest room for some fun if we wanted to. Would you be up for that?” 

Homura leaned forward to mimic his actions. “Sure Mr. Steiner. I would love to!” 

Weisz chuckled. “Wow. I didn’t expect you to actually say yes.” 

“It’s a new year. Time to try some new things,” Homura winked, running her hands down his chest. Weisz smirked, getting excited at her actions. 

“Shiki’s right. I am so whipped,” the lovestruck blonde whispered to himself as his beautiful fiancée led him back into the apartment for a thrilling night.