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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 4 years ago

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Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 4

Will

Cult girl attends her grandmother's funeral and is approached with a highly unorthodox last will and testament.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: emotional manipulation and abuse, verbal abuse, death, slight emetophobia, body-shaming, ED mention, pregnancy and family planning

There was no use recounting anything from the leading up to the funeral. You spent that first night wine-drunk, munching on foie gras, watching Arrested Development and diagnosing each character to the best of your psychological abilities. You remembered cry-laughing at the same jokes you had memorized, and reminiscing on all the insane shit your own personal Lucille Bluth pulled on you. That was the highlight of the week. It was all downhill from there.

Firstly, you were sick. That Sunday, you wrote it off as a hangover. Then, the hangover returned with a vengeance, just to add salt to the already open wound of having to pretend to mourn your abusive grandmother. At least the physical pain would give your acting an air of sincerity, you thought.

Hannibal dressed in a solid black tux: it was almost uncanny to see him outside of any of his normal checkered suits. You selected a plain black dress and a strand of pearls.

The funeral was to be held at the same country club Anna’s wedding was held. Your grandmother was like a pharaoh, insisting that the empire she built know that even in death, she reigned supreme. The country club was her pyramid.

Anna asked if you wanted to say a few words. As much as you wanted to get up and tell all her country club friends about the time she reported you as an abducted child at age twenty-two when you refused to leave your boyfriend and move back in with her, you knew that it wasn’t in good taste. You racked your brain for any story that could be considered remotely funeral-appropriate, but none came to mind.

You spent the entire funeral trying not to roll your eyes too obviously at the stories of abuse her country club friends somehow remembered fondly. Your soul just left your body throughout the entire process and you were unsure if it would ever return.

All things considered, it could have gone much worse. Then, it did.

The beginning of the end was when your grandmother’s estate lawyer pulled you and Anna aside to conduct the reading of the will. He showed you to a side room, then excused himself before closing the door behind him.

“Hello, [F/N].” Liam greeted, trying to cut through the awkward silence that came with first seeing each other after four straight years. “I’m very sorry about your gran. She was a great woman.”

You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Lee. I appreciate it.”

“No she doesn’t.” Anna muttered. “And it’s Liam.”

“I don’t mind ‘Lee’.” Liam contested. “My mum called me Lee. I actually quite like it.”

Anna was in one of her ‘I’m so upset, please ask me why’ moods. She sat on one of the heavy armchairs with her legs crossed and eyes to the wall. You weren’t going to bite.

Liam wasn’t so cautious. “Princess, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She pouted, not even dignifying her husband with a look. “I just think it’s interesting that I put the funeral together all by myself and someone couldn’t even be bothered to speak.”

You shot Liam a look that said ‘way to go, jackass’.

“Yeah,” You said, sitting down in an adjacent armchair. “That must suck.”

Anna glared at you. “You really have nothing to say? Really?”

You tensed up. “Let’s see, which charming anecdote would you have me tell? How about that time when she made you wear a fat suit for an hour after you complained about how the low-carb ice cream tasted like chemicals?”

Liam looked in shock at his wife. “Did she really?”

“Once.” Anna confessed, holding up one finger.

You turned to Liam, as if you were sharing some hot gossip. “That was all it took to give her an eating disorder when she was thirteen.”

Hannibal was just a fly on the wall. Anna noticed his lack of reaction.

“And I bet Hannibal knows all about this, huh?” Anna said, throwing her hand in his direction. “Because he just needs to hear all of our private family business, right?”

You stood up from your seat. “First of all, I take offense at the implication that my fiancée isn’t family.”

An evil smile spread on Anna’s face. “But he wasn’t always your fiancé, was he, [F/N]?”

“Holy shit, you cracked the code.” You said, flatly. “There was a point in time when Hannibal and I weren’t an item. Real shocker, that one.”

“You know what I mean.” She sneered, then approached Hannibal. “Dr. Lecter, is it true that before you and [F/N] became romantically involved, you were her therapist?”

Liam looked scandalized. Hannibal was just as put-together as always.

“That is true.” He said, feeling no shame whatsoever.

Anna turned back to you. “Now don’t you think that’s just a smidge unethical? For a therapist to date their much younger patient?”

You narrowed your eyes. You carried yourself with the lightness of a woman who finally had the moral high ground. “So you want to talk about what’s ethical, huh? I suppose that means you’ve told Liam about pineapple.”

All the blood drained from her face. You crossed your arms and held your head up a little higher.

“That’s what I thought.” You grinned.

“Look, could we just pretend to be a normal, functioning family for ten minutes?” Anna pleaded, as if there were anyone other than herself to blame for provoking an argument.

“That’s on you two.” Liam, rightfully, pointed out. He gestured to himself and then to Hannibal. “Neither of us have said anything.”

The estate lawyer must have gotten his juris doctorate alongside a master's in impeccable fucking timing, because that was when he decided to make his entrance.

"I'm sorry for the wait, everyone." He announced. "And I'm sorry for having to pull you aside in your hour of mourning. Usually the last will and testament is handled through email to the beneficiaries, but your grandmother was quite adamant it be approached this way."

"That definitely sounds like her." You said, exchanging glances with Hannibal. You'd talked about this for what felt like hours the week prior. She was going to pull some last-minute bullshit to humiliate you from beyond the grave. Give all the inheritance to Anna and leave a snide comment about you in a legal document. You knew it was coming. All you could hope was for it to be quick.

The lawyer pulled an envelope from his briefcase. "She specifically asked for her two living grandchildren and their significant others to be present."

"Did she say it like that?" Anna raised an eyebrow. "Or was it more like, 'Anna and her husband, and [F/N] and her therapist'?"

"Mrs. Young," Hannibal said, taking your hand. "Until you tell your husband about pineapple, you aren't allowed to judge us."

Anna glared at you. "What the hell? He knows, too?!"

"Yeah." You answered. "I tell him everything."

"Okay, who or what is pineapple?" Liam interjected. "And why do I get the feeling I'm the only one not in the know, here?"

"That's cause you are." You confirmed. "And you have your lovely wife to thank for that."

"Everyone!" The lawyer called out. Clearly, he'd seen his share of dysfunctional families. "Please, let me just read the will and you can continue arguing afterwards."

"Y'know what? Fair enough." You said, crossing your legs. "Let's rip off this band-aid, shall we?"

The lawyer opened the envelope and produced a single page. He cleared his throat.

"I, Beatrice [L/N], being of sound mind and body, do hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions-" He began reading the long first sentence. "Including but not limited to, a collective sum of $45 million, the family home and my shares of the country club, to the first of my granddaughters to give birth."

You expected nothing. You expected something. But you never could have expected this.

"Can you please read that last part again?" You asked, unsure if what you heard was the result of a stroke.

"The entire inheritance goes to the first one of you to have a baby." The lawyer clarified, trying to make it sound like a reasonable arrangement.

"That makes sense." Anna said, nodding.

You looked at her, dumbfounded. "How in the fuck on fire does that make sense to you?"

"Well, the money would be going to a good cause." She rationalized. "To raise the baby, right?"

You shook your head. "No, this is insane. Grandma has always had this weird obsession with bloodlines, and now she's trying to incentivize us to carry it out."

"What happens if neither of us can, y'know?" Anna asked.

The lawyer pushed his glasses up his nose. "If neither granddaughter is willing to produce a child, the entire inheritance will go to the Eagle Forum, so my ungrateful grandchildren can learn about family values."

"She hated the Eagle Forum!" Anna objected. "She wouldn't dare."

"She absolutely would." You pressed your fingers into your forehead. "That's upper-class white moderates for you. And she doesn't have to be around to see when they name a fucking wing after her."

"The Beatrice [L/N] center for denying women bodily autonomy." Hannibal said. "It's quite fitting."

"[F/N], we can't let that happen." Anna pleaded. "We can't let Eagle Forum get a penny of that money."

"Why the hell not?" You said. Though on principle, you agreed, you knew this was just another one of your grandmother's power grabs. At the end of the day, she chose to leave her money to the Eagle Forum. And it would be her name on that check, not yours.

"Oh my god, you actually hate babies more than you hate conservatives." Anna stood with her mouth agape.

"Don't put words in my mouth." You snapped. "I don't hate babies. I hate grandma for trying to threaten me into having one. I hate grandma for pinning us against each other and making sure it stays that way."

"What do you have against giving me a little niece or nephew, huh?" Anna folded her arms.

"I'm fucking done." You said, throwing up your hands. "This will be the last you ever see of me."

Of course, that's what you said the last time.

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #more cult girl #cult girl #cult girl 2 #tw pregnancy #tw emotional abuse #tw death #tw conservatives

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fenrys-moonbeam-lochan · 4 years ago

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And I shall bestow a kiss upon you

Summary: The cadre like to kiss each other. Aedion is a little confused

Ao3

Part of my ToG Comfortember 2020. I know it’s 2021 now, but I’m determined to finish it.

XXX

The Cadre liked to kiss each other.

It was an absurd thought, but Aedion knew what he was seeing.

He hadn't thought much of it at first. They were pretty drunk the first time it happened, and Fenrys had been the perpetrator. That part was self-explanatory, really.

After a night out that had left both he and Rowan tipsy, Fenrys drunk and Lorcan the only one sober, they had come back with Fenrys dangling between them.

"I'll take him to his room," said Lorcan

"Are You sure?" asked Rowan

"Yea, yea," said Lorcan, "I'm sure your wives are waiting to hit you over the heads for being this late,"

Aedion chuckled. They were late, an hour late, to be exact. Elide, of course, was still in Perranth, so Lorcan didn't need to worry about ruining anyone's schedule.

"Alright then,"

Lorcan started to lead Fenrys away when he suddenly flailed and tried to move back.

"Wait! Wait!" he cried, "I have to say bye,"

Lorcan rolled his eyes and sighed but let him go. Fenrys ambled over and gave Rowan a big hug and kiss on the cheek. He then turned to Aedion and kissed his hair.

"Timo to go now," said Lorcan

Fenrys grinned and waved, "Bye!"

Aedion smiled and shook his head as they watched the other two go.

"Wow, he's drunk,"

Rowan snorted his agreement.

And that was that.

Except that it wasn't.

The next time it happened, they were at a party hosted by the Queen of Terrasen. It was a holiday gala with plenty of wine and spirits making the rounds. This time both he and Fenrys were pretty drunk. As the night ended and the still sober ladies retired to one of the smaller sitting rooms, Rowan and Lorcan decided it was time for both he and Fenrys to be in bed.

Rowan grabbed him while Lorcan took the other wolf. However, before Fenrys could leave, he once again gave both of them a kiss on the cheek. Aedion let it go instantly but was forced to rethink it when Rowan was putting him in bed.

The silver-haired male helped him strip out of his outer layers and got him under the covers. Once Aedion was in, Rowan lowered his head and gently touched his lips to Aedion's forehead.

Now, Aedion was drunk and tired and didn't have the capacity to really think beyond his initial surprise. However, in the morning, his head was a little more clear, if throbbing, and he remembered what had happened the night before.

Even though it was a bit odd, he put it off to Rowan just acting like the big brother. Aedion himself had always kissed Aelin as a sign of affection. So what if they were two males? It was still a normal thing to do.

It happened again after a late-night dinner at the palace. This time no one was drunk, and no one kissed him.

However, as Fenrys got up to leave, everyone else got up say goodbye. Rowan was the last one, and as he leaned in for a hug, Fenrys gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, same as Aelin.

It was a little surprising since he had only seen Fenrys kiss one of the males when drunk, but he figured it was just something Fenrys did.

The next time the four of them were sitting at a campfire, and the oldest two males were regaling them with stories from their centuries together. Fenrys would chime in here and there, too, but it was mostly the other two talking.

Surprisingly, Fenrys was the first one to get up, citing an early morning for him. Before he left, he went to grasp Rowan's arm and then quickly kissed him on the cheek. Lorcan was given the same treatment.

Lorcan was given the same treatment. What the fuck?

The oldest male didn't push him away as Aedion had expected, merely sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. As Fenrys passed him, he placed a kiss on his head too.

Aedion looked at the other males, but they had gone back to reminiscing about one battle or another.

Alright. So maybe Fenrys really just liked kissing his friends. It could be a thing.

The time after that, there was no Fenrys. It was actually Rowan that did it.

"Alright, time for me go," he said once the two of them were done pouring over reports. The man squeezed his shoulder and placed a kiss on his head. Aedion mumbled his own goodnight and wondered what the hell was going on.

He had almost given up on figuring it out and just accepted that Fenrys and Rowan were just like that. Except then he witnessed a small moment between Lorcan and Rowan that made him curious again.

They were going out to meet a radical pure-blood fae group, the kind that didn't believe any demi-fae should have been given freedom. The new laws put forward by the Sellene had brought them out of the woodwork. Aelin had agreed to go help settle things down.

Lorcan had been on edge ever since he heard of the group, more tense than normal, mood sourer than ever, and he barely said two words to anyone.

No one in the court blamed him, though. This group had been around for a long time, and if Rowan's impromptu history lesson was anything to go by, someone as old as Lorcan would have been brought a lot of pain due to their actions.

Just before they were about to leave, Aedion saw Rowan and Lorcan standing a little away from the rest of them. Rowan was saying something to Lorcan softly and when he finished talking, the dark made gently grasped his forearm. He then leaned in as if to hug the other male but turned his face to brush a small kiss at Rowan's temple.

It was a small moment and if Aedion had blinked, he would have missed it. Nobody else saw it and Aedion didn't have time to give it much thought.

After that incident, Aedion started to see it a lot more. Fenrys would kiss them when he was drunk or at the end of the day. Rowan would do it in a 'brotherly' way when one of them was upset or they were having a soft moment. They kissed each other more than they kissed him but still when they did, it seemed to come to them naturally. With Lorcan, the action wasn't natural. It was deliberate, usually comfort as the last resort. A kiss for Fenrys when his drink made him cry instead of making him laugh, one for Rowans when his eyes became glassy and always done in a fleeting moment. Aedion didn't think anyone else noticed it and the only reason he did was that he was looking for it.

Lorcan didn't kiss Aedion though. At least, he didn't use to.

Aedion and Lysandra had travelled to Perranth to check on Elide as she healed from her bones being realigned. The whole court had wanted to go together but as far as responsibilities go, it was just not feasible.

They promised to stay there three nights and on the second one, Aedion woke up in a sweat, his heart racing in his chest.

A nightmare. It had been a nightmare and a brutal one at that. One filled with too much blood and screaming, one that left him unable to go to sleep. Not wanting to wake his slumbering wife, Aedion carefully sipped out of bed.

Once he was in the hall, Aedion walked around the maze of a manor until he ended up on the city facing balcony. It was the same balcony Elide used at big functions to be seen and heard by her citizens. At night, it gave a beautiful and peaceful view of Perranth. It helped calm him.

The presence behind him seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He whipped around to find Lorcan already stepping back with his hands up and a sheepish look on his face.

"Apologies," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, "I forget not everyone can feel me coming,"

"Right," muttered Aedion, "What are you doing up here?"

Lorcan hummed, "I usually only sleep four to six hours a night. This time it more towards the least amount. You?"

Aedion just shrugged and went back to looking at the city. Lorcan nodded as if he understood. Who knew, he probably did.

They stood there for a little while, silently watching the sleeping city together. Eventually, as Aedion's eyes started to droop, Lorcan turned towards him.

"We should get you back to bed, Ashryver," he said, "Unlike me, you do need more sleep,"

Aedion grunted but followed Lorcan without complaint. Lorcan was right, he was tired and he needed the sleep. Maybe this time his mind would actually let him rest.

When they got to the suite he was staying in, Lorcan was the one to open the door for him. Aedion nodded his thanks and said a quiet good night. As he passed Lorcan, the older male put a gentle hand on his shoulder and brushed a kiss to his temple.

"Good night," he murmured to Aedion, quickly closing the door after him.

It happened so fast, Aedion didn't have time to be surprised before the other male was gone.

He was, however, determined to get some answers.

The next time he saw Rowan, he plopped down beside him with intent.

"I have a question," he declared to his brother

Rowan raises an eyebrow at him, "Oh?"

"What's with the kissing?"

Rowan's other eyebrow joined its partner.

"You're going to need to be a little more specific, pup," said Rowan, "I'm assuming you're not asking about the normal kissing young men ask their older brothers about,"

Aedion snorted, "No. I'm talking about you and the rest of the Cadre,"

"Oh, that," said Rowan, "You noticed, hmm?"

"A bit hard not to," said Aedion, "Especially when Lorcan of all people gently bestowed one on me,"

"He did?" asked Rowan, disbelief clear on his face, "Wait. Is that what prompted this conversation?"

"Well, yes," answered Aedion, "Fenrys only does it when he's tired or drunk or both and you're to me what I am to Aelin so I didn't think much about it. I figured males that were close just did that,"

Rowan smiled, "And you would be right,"

Aedion gave him a blank look.

"But..."

Rowan smiled and threw an arm around, gently tugging him into his side.

"It doesn't really mean anything. It's just something people in Doranelle grow up doing, like shaking hands and hugging each other. Of course, Lorcan didn't grow up with family and is a little more reserved. Fenrys and I, as nobles, were taught some etiquette along with it. Bow first, who should initiate, how close you have to be and such but otherwise it doesn't have a deep meaning behind it,"

"So Lorcan...?"

Rowan sighed.

"As I said about Lorcan," he said, "He grew up without a family. All those jokes we make of him, he doesn't mind them because frankly, he gives as much as he gets. If he minded, we wouldn't make the jokes but there is some truth to them,"

Aedion thought back to the comment he had heard in passing conversations. The more humorous and nonchalant ones like 'bastard from the slums' and 'street rat'. And the ones said in the heat of the moment, like the day Rowan had spat out 'fucked his way to the top' in anger, making even Lorcan go quiet for a second.

If one really looked at the implied stories behind them, they didn't paint a very nice picture of Lorcan's past.

"He cares about you," said Rowan, "In his own Lorcan way, as much as he is able. We care out you,"

"Oh," whispered Aedion, "Oh,"

Rowan chuckled and placed a kiss against his temple. Aedion could feel his smile against his skin.

"Come on, pup," said Rowan, still smiling, "I think it's time for lunch,"

"Okay," he murmured, still a bit dazed.

After his conversation with Rowan, Aedion stopped keeping track, letting the older males show their affection. Lorcan's displays were still few and far between but Aedion knew that was just another part of him.

Eventually, he found himself reciprocating and even initiating the small show of affection. He learnt to turn his head and kiss Fenrys at the same time. He learnt to plant a kiss on Rowan's cheek as they hugged in greeting. He learnt that Fenrys like his hair to be kissed when he was tired. He found that when his brother was drunk he let out an adorable little giggle at having his forehead kissed.

He, however, refrained from doing any such thing with Lorcan. It just didn't seem right. Lorcan himself rarely initiated and to Aedion it felt as if he would be crossing some invisible line.

However, one night, on the anniversary of the court's victory, the four of them were sitting outside bathed in moonlight. The party had gone one for some time and as it had come to an end, the four of them had slipped away for a breath of air before they had to go back in and help the ladies. They were a little tipsy, red-cheeked and warm, their conversations soft and nonsensical.

Aedion didn't want to leave but he knew he had to be the first one to get up. Nobody expected Lorcan to be in there, they all understood his need for a break and Elide was the only one expected by the people. Rowan could also get away from disappearing for a bit. However, Aedion would be missed by some of the guests that were still milling about.

With great pain, he got himself to stand up.

"Alright gentlemen, I should go inside," he told the others.

They were a few murmurs of assent as he bent down to place a kiss on Fenrys's head. He then moved to Rowan and gave his forehead a gentle kiss. Then unthinkingly, he bent down and placed a kiss on Lorcan's forehead too.

The older male looked at him with surprise all over his face. Aedion froze, thinking that he might have just made a huge mistake.

However, Lorcan just silently raised his glass back to his lips to hide his smile, small and a little shy.

And yes, Elide had been right. Lorcan definitely looked much younger and brighter with a smile on his face.

#tog #throne of glass #aedion ashryver #rowan #rowan whitethorn #lorcan #Lorcan Salveterre #lord lorcan lochan #Fenrys #fenrys moonbeam #platonic relationships #platonic kissing #lorcan salvaterre

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cowboyified · 4 years ago

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Below are some WIPs I’m releasing into the wild. They were all written at different times over the past two years so any mistakes/cliches you can blame on past June, I don’t know them.

Go, be free.

This first one I think is the one I’m most fond of. I had such a vision for it; bottlecaps in trees, river swimming, making out against the fridge, all that good stuff you get with weecest.

The summer Sam is seventeen they stay in one place for long enough Dean starts referring to it as ‘home’.

It’s an old farmhouse, miles from any other structure, bar an outhouse and hay shed. There’s a porch running the length of the front and back, the wooden boards pulled up from their nails, wavy with the weather. Weatherboard paint peeling, wallpaper inside torn and missing in most places.

They’re squatting, technically. The property owned by a family saved by hunters once, friends of friends of Bobby’s, too distraught by what they’d witnessed to raise their kids on cursed land. Dean had told Sam that Dad had been told by Bobby that had been told by Pastor Jim that it was chupacabras. A whole pack of ‘em, feeding off the lambs in the back paddock, tried to take a bite out of the baby girl and Sam had said, “As if man, those things are tiny, I’ve seen pictures, you could kick one and it would limp away like a fucking chihuaha, you scared of chihuahas, huh, Dean?” But Sam still hikes his sheet up under his chin when he hears scuffling under their window between sleep.

There’s remnants of the house’s past inhabitants still scattered around the place. Sam had stood and slid two inches on the wheels of a tiny replica car that had been jammed under the couch the second day they arrived, piffed it at his brother’s head, who’d caught it, exclaimed that it was Camero, dude, treat her with some respect and had sat it on top of the fridge.

The bookshelf in the corner of their shared bedroom holds mostly dust and tattered occult books stolen from libraries from all over the country, left by hunters who have found what they’ve needed and moved on. There are a few of the worst Stephen King novels shoved haphazardly on the top shelf and Sam finds something funny in that, the irony in enjoying bad horror when the real deal lurks behind the screen door.

Dean gives him a look when Sam pulls down and cracks open a copy of The Tommyknockers, snorts, “Haven’t you read that one already?” and Sam says, tucking himself into bed, “Yeah, it fucking sucks, King was royally off his head while writing it, that’s why it’s so good.” Sam finishes three quarters of it in one sitting while listening to Dean’s quiet snores from the other side of the room.

It’s a ten minute drive to the closest town, an off the highway, invisible to the outside world, kind of one-street community. No reason to take the exit if you don’t already know it’s there, one store, one gas station, one bar in an old brick post office building, unfitting, the carpet pulled up at the corners but home to the best fries Sam has ever had in his life.

Sam follows Dean out to the courtyard, neither of them are legally old enough to drink but there’s nothing else to do but to get respectably drunk in a place like this, anyone that has lived long enough in the true country is some kind of functioning alcoholic, so Dean orders a beer and isn’t asked for ID. In a town small enough for everyone to know every intricate detail in the threads of dirty laundry, they are foreigners. No one knows where they’re from or where they’re going and Sam knows that Dean likes it that way.

It’s never been a secret that Sam prefers to feel like he has a part in everyday normalcy. Dean thrives under anonymity, gets a kick out of it because it makes him feel dangerous. He had stopped accompanying Sam to school two states ago, a silent agreement with their father when Dean had come home early and helped John cut splits into the tips of bullets instead. Like hell I’m signing up for compulsory extra curricular activities. What’s the point in making friends with people whose biggest concerns are the answers to whatever bullshit test and who fucked who last Friday?

Finding comfort in a nine-to-five kind of community is a flaw Sam’s been burdened to deal with.

It’s early afternoon, the courtyard is empty and the table they chose rocks on its legs every time Dean slides his drink over for Sam to share. It’s bitter and Sam hasn’t had enough beer in his life to know if it’s supposed to be like that or if it has just soured from the long journey it took to get from the brewery to their glass. He drinks it and doesn’t grimace because his brother is looking at him through the rays of warm country sun.

“Tastes like piss, huh,” Dean says, leaning forward out of the light so Sam can see him clearly again. He takes back the glass.

“S’not that bad,” Sam replies, rubbing the leftover condensation into his hand, doesn’t look at Dean, finds it hard these days, twists in his gut all wrong. Sam knows why.

His brother hums, “There’s gotta be something else to do around here.”

Sam thinks, Dad’s left the car, we can go wherever we want, but doesn’t say it because his brother is loyal to a disastrous fault.

That’s a recurring thought. Sam in the shotgun seat, his brother behind the wheel, driving away. Just away, to someplace else and they’d be okay because they’d have each other and all Sam ever needs is his brother, like water. But John will be back in two weeks, term starts again in a month and he needs his father to sign the enrollment forms. Two more years.

“You see the old dredge outside of town?” Sam asks, remembers passing it when they arrived, all twisted, rusting metal, the bones of it against the setting sun.

“What did I tell you about respecting your elders?”

“You told me that they all smell like porridge and are easily susceptible to sleight of hand. No, Dean, Dredge,” Sam stresses. “Big rusty old machine that pulls minerals out of water.”

“Looking to strike big, Sammy?”

“Yeah, you see, my family is poor, brother at home too dumb to get a job. Our father went to get milk and never came back,” Sam sniffs for effect. “I can’t go home empty handed again, sir.”

“Ah, a real sob story,” Dean nods in understanding, tips his head back and finishes the beer. “Let’s get out there then, sonny. We shan't let that simpleton, downright fool of a brother go hungry.” Dean jabs Sam in the ribs when he stands, hard enough for him to gasp, gets Sam’s head under his arm before he can recover. Sam claws embarrassingly at his brother’s torso, face pressed warm into the side of Dean’s waist.

“I will pray for us young Samuel, for I too, dream of riches,” his brother is exclaiming, tripping them out and onto the street. “I only ask that we share whatever bounty dredged as I saw the most exquisite pony a few miles back and I simply must have it.”

And Sam thinks - with his flushed cheek hard against Dean’s skin through the thin sweaty fabric of his shirt, heart beating too fast against his ribs in a way that has nothing to do with exhaustion - you can have it all.

---

Sam’s brother’s perpetual state of being is ten miles over the speed limit; this can be applied to almost every aspect of him. Dean goes and goes and rarely stops. They’re pushing double that out of town, north of their property, into the forever stretch of flat land and Sam loses himself in it. That idea of away, of going and going and that Dean could take him because he’s an expert in the field.

The Impala blasts Born To Be Wild and Sam imagines the lyrics spreading out over the dry grass. He rolls the window down and throws his head out, trying his best to keep his eyes open against the road’s wind. The sun beats down, warmth soaking through and into his bones and Sam laughs as the cattle turn to catch a glimpse of them soaring.

Dean pulls him in, tugs at the back of his shirt, says something along the lines of, what are you, a dog? Should get you a shock collar for all the times you’re a little bitch, but Sam can’t hear him over the roaring of the open window and the look of transparent glee on Dean’s face, it’s loud and assaulting and Sam has to turn away because seeing Dean like that wobbles him dangerously from the nonchalant facade he has going on in relation to how he feels about his brother. But mostly his face hurts from smiling too wide.

Used as a warm up last year. Boyking!Sam

He thinks he’s in Louisiana, maybe. That he got here in the tray of a pickup and that he couldn’t feel the wind in his hair like maybe he should. The driver had stopped for a piss-break and Sam had snapped his neck without his hands.

He rubs them together now, tries to feel guilty but there’s nothing to feel guilty about because his hands are clean; he doesn’t have to use them anymore.

Sam thinks he’s in Louisiana because he stepped out of the truck and into a wet kind of heat. There’s a church with thick greenery growing over the roof and white wood that’s been mold-blackened by the humidity. He laughs to the darkness because it's very funny to him that he’s driven himself subconsciously to a place of grace.

He skips up the steps, two at a time, gleefully. The smell of the bayou and rotting wood has put him in a good mood. The lock snaps when he blinks, the chain unraveling and snaking into a coil at his feet. The doors open for him and maybe he did that with his mind too, or maybe they were just expecting him.

The church has been used recently, its interior better kept than the outside, bibles tucked neatly in the backs of pews, ribbons tied into plaits. The white of the moon falls in blankets through the windows, shadows of leaves moving over the floor like rippling water and the bust of Mother Mary prays for him at the altar.

Sam spreads his arms and addresses her, says to the room at large, “Shall I repent for my sins, oh Lord?” and it echoes, gives him goosebumps, a current under his skin. He has an audience here because God is omnipresent, this is a place of worship and Sam has always been good at that.

A church in Louisiana, standing before a plaster of his mother’s namesake in a church for a God he used to think could have some defying factor in a destiny that was always going to be concrete. It’s funny, blatantly. Sam puts his hands gently to Mary’s cold face, kisses her on her lips before crushing her head, spraying ceramic.

Sam stands behind the lectern, hands red with his own blood now, sticking the pages of the Good Book. He’s read it before anyway.

“Am I to be forgiven?”

Last is a casefic I had planned out in 2019. I didn’t get very far into the actual writing part of it, but I still think the setting is cool, less so the plot I had in mind.

Just outside of Bridgeport, Connecticut there’s a community built on a sandbar. A small secluded semi-island, connected to the mainland by a mile-long beachfront. A town of forty to fifty now abandoned, vandalised residences.

The police find the bodies of the boys there, bleeding out and into the sand, each other’s skin caught under their fingernails.

Sam watches as his brother pulls the sheet back from one of the corpses, laying blue on the steel morgue tray. He’s a kid, a boy, not even eighteen. Hairless, lanky, multiple stab wounds puckered around his belly and Sam thinks he does not look peaceful for someone who is meant to be at rest.

Dean is quieter than usual, his body language stiff. They’ve seen their fair share of dead kids but Sam thinks that this one might look a little too much like an adolescent version of himself. Shaggy brown hair, too long limbs, college on the horizon. Sam blankets the sheet back over the boy’s face and hears his brother exhale in what he thinks might be relief.

The coroner tells them that the other two are the same, besides the youngest one. He’d been blinded, thumbs pushed through his eyes until they popped like grapes. He asks if they want to see him too and Sam says no, thank you, we’ve got what we need.

Which is a whole lot of nothing, but they’ve only just arrived and there’s evidence that doesn’t involve corpses that needs to be checked.

“Pussied out in there huh, Sammy?” Dean says as they’re walking down the funeral home’s front steps, past the manicured roses and trimmed lawn. You see these perfect hedges? We’ll treat your dead mother with the same detailed care!

Sam pulls at his tie and scoffs because he knows he wasn’t the only one uncomfortable standing in the morgue; cases that involve kids always rub them both wrong.

#wip dump #wincest #my words

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years ago

Text

A Muppet Family Christmas

Day 13 of 2018′s 31 Days of Christmas. Note: new for 2020. Credited as 2018 for organizational purposes, & back-filling the prompt.

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for the prompt list!

Prompt: Holiday movies

Rating: T (sexual themes, alcohol)

Pairing: TenxRose (AU)

Summary: Despite being mid-January James and Rose have a Christmas-movie watching date, and open up about old grief amidst being childish with the Muppets and Mario Kart. Part of the Cosier With You ‘verse.

2018 31 Days of Ficmas Masterlist | Cosier With You ‘Verse

AO3

---

With a final swipe of gloss across her lips, Rose returned the lipstick to her purse, fluffed her hair, and knocked on the door.

“It’s open!”

Pushing the door open, she grinned at the sight that greeted her. Hair still obviously wet from the shower, her boyfriend of three weeks (and counting!) stood on the far side of his kitchen island, preoccupied with a popcorn popper that was spitting out perfectly popped corn. “Hey!” he greeted her warmly, as she dumped her stuff and came around to his side. “Missed you.”

“I saw you this morning,” she laughed, kissing him hello. “Mm, you taste like butter.”

“I had to make sure it was good,” James shrugged, gesturing to the half-full bowl catching the freshly popped corn. “Only the best for you. And yes, but we were at your place of work, surrounded by people. I much prefer when we’re alone.”

“So do I.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rested her head on his bicep. “Remind me why we’re watching Christmas movies in mid-January?”

James eased out of her arms as the popper wound down, dumping the last of the kernels into the bowl before switching the machine off. “Because I don’t want to wait a year to curl up with you and popcorn and watch cheesy Christmas-themed movies with you.” He nodded towards a bottle of white wine and two glasses on the counter, still chilled from the fridge, waiting for Rose to grab them before guiding her to the couch, which was already prepared for the evening.

Two soft, fleece-lined blankets stood at the ready, along with the pillows from his bed. A stack of DVDs sat on the coffee table, two drink coasters optimally positioned, and to complete the Christmas-y vibe, all the decorations, including the tree, were still up.

“So, for future reference, do you typically leave the tree up this long?” she asked, plopping down roughly in the middle of the couch and pulling out the pre-popped cork. “‘Cause I’ve gotta be honest, mine’s been down since the third, and this might be a sticking point in the future.”

He laughed, settling next to her and reaching for his glass. “No, but… I’m not ready to take it down yet, this year. I’m afraid…”

“What?” She took her own glass, leaning back into the cushions and giving him her full attention.

“I’m afraid that this- what we have- is a function of Christmas magic, and if I remove the decorations…” he trailed off, ears flushing. “Point is, I’m not taking any chances on this.”

Rose grinned, blushing herself, and wiggled closer. “I’m not going to disappear if you take your tree down,” she promised. “And I’m mostly teasing you – it’s sort of nice, it still being up. Not sure I’d say the same if I was living- with one still up,” she faltered, and they shared a smile at what was unsaid- “but… yeah. I wouldn’t want to jinx us either. I’ve been wanting this for so long.”

“Me too.” He leaned forward, and they met in the middle in a kiss that tasted of salt from the popcorn, tart from the wine, and sweet from what she was learning was just him. “Mhmm, you’re too tempting,” he accused without heat when he pulled back for breath. “This isn’t why I asked you over.”

“All right, all right,” she resettled herself with a laugh. “Fine, we can Netflix then Chill, if that’s what you really want.”

His ears and neck turned a delightful shade of scarlet, and he all but lunged for the stack of DVDs, voice squeaking as he said, “So! What shall we start with?”

Leaning in again she rested her cheek against his shoulder as they shuffled through the selection, and it took everything she had not to scoff at the final option, managing a neutral tone to say, “A Muppet Family Christmas?”

James stilled beside her, and she was glad she hadn’t laughed when a distant expression flashed across his face. “It was my dad’s favorite Christmas movie,” he said, hesitantly. “Mum hated it, but tolerated it when we were old enough to watch it. It became our thing, me Donna and Dad’s. She and I still watch it together every year.”

“Oh.” Rose tried to marshal her thoughts, recognizing that he was letting her in on something special, wondering distantly if it was some sort of test. “I’ve never actually seen it.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Slightly before my time. I know who the Muppets are, of course, saw the Christmas Carol one, but… not this.”

He was silent for a moment, picking at the corner of the box. “D’you wanna?”

“Yes.” She surprised them both with the strength of her response, based on how James’ head flew up to blink at her. “Sounds like this might be the closest I get to meeting your Dad, so- let’s do it.”

His blinding smile told her it was absolutely the right answer.

By the end of the movie they were snuggled together, singing along at the top of their lungs to the final song, even as it trailed off to the credits.

“-And a happy new year!” they finished, before breaking into peals of laughter.

“Oh, I loved it,” Rose proclaimed, wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen that – it’s adorable!”

Beside her, James made a happy noise, pressing his face into her bicep. “Really?”

Wriggling around, Rose waited until she could meet his eye to respond. “Really,” she said firmly. “There’s something special about it. And more importantly, it’s special to you. So it’s special to me. Thank you for sharing this bit of yourself with me.” No words could express how honored she felt, that he was comfortable sharing something so personal with her. It made her a little wistful for her own father; while both men were gone, James had at least grown up with his father, known him in person- Rose had been a baby when Pete died.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” James’ concerned tone dragged her out of the spiral of her thoughts, and she looked up at him when he brushed at her cheek. “You’re crying.”

She bit her lip. “I was just thinking about my own dad,” she said truthfully. “I’d give anything to share something like this with him. Or, anything, really. I was six months when he- when we lost him. I mean, on bank holidays Mum and I watch old Cliff Richards movies, but… it’s not quite the same as this.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a… a sad memory for you.” His soulful chocolate eyes felt like they could see into her very heart, and she pushed down the ever-present but background grief.

“It’s okay. Sometimes it hits me in the weirdest moments. And I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet your Dad – he sounds wonderful, based on your stories.” Then she bolted upright, as a memory surfaced. “Holy shit – I think I did meet your dad! Three Christmases ago, the first couple months you were coming in – we didn’t have much of a relationship then, but I still clocked you every time, ‘cause you’re so bloody cute, and I remember you came in a few days before Christmas with an older man! You’d been out shopping, and blimey, he looked just like you!”

James was silent for a long moment, before exhaling. “Blimey, I think you’re right. I’d forgotten – I was sweet on your even then, and I think he noticed, ‘cause he kept teasing me. I never took him back, for fear of him embarrassing me. But… yeah, there you go. You did meet him. And he liked you, much as he could in thirty seconds. Kept egging me to ask you out, and I brushed him off. If only I’d listened to him…”

They sat with that, imaging what could have been, before Rose clapped her hands. “No, we are not going down that rabbit hole. Let’s be grateful that we got there, and we’re here now. Trust me, I spent my entire life pretending not to notice how my mum had one foot stuck in the could-have-beens. Better not to start down that path.” She reached for the bottle of wine, but it was empty. “What d’you say we go do some stargazing?”

“Or…” he drawled, raising an eyebrow, “we could continue on our childish theme and play Mario Kart.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

By the third race their maudlin musings had been all but forgotten, as they battled it out for first place with taunts and good-natured ribbing, giving no quarter and playing as though their lives depended on it – complete with over-dramatic victory dances and cheering.

“Oh, come on!” James protested, as Rose eked out a second win by a breath. “You’re cheating!”

“Am not,” she denied, settling back on the couch after a final celebratory kick. “Novice, remember? Beginner’s luck?”

He grumbled, turning to look at her. “Care to make it more interesting?”

“How so?”

“Winner takes a shot, loser loses an item of clothing?”

Rose laughed, shaking her head. “You want to turn strip-racing into a drinking game?” Leaning back, she considered her outfit and his, then the empty bottle of wine. “What d’you got for shots?”

A rifle through the fridge produced a cold bottle of peppermint schnapps, “In keeping with the Christmas theme,” he declared, setting it on the coffee table along with two shot glasses. “Hope you’re thirsty.”

Shaking her head, Rose folded her legs beneath her. “You do know I’m a sure thing, right?” she teased, choosing the next track in the game. “You don’t need to get me drunk, or strip to get me interested.”

“Someone’s confident in themself, aren’t they?” he leered. “Better watch out – who knows what the promise of getting you in your knickers will do to my ability in the game?”

“Not a thing,” she shot back, catching her tongue between her teeth. “Because there’s no where you’re getting me in my knickers.” She started the race, laughing at his outraged yelp.

“We’ll see.”

The light turned green and they took off, and Rose waited until they were near the end and he was slightly ahead to say, “I’d have to be wearing knickers for you to see me in them.” As predicted he startled, going so far as to drop his controller, and with a laugh, she sped across the finish line for her third win in a row. As her character (Princess Peach, natch) was crowned, she turned to watch him splutter, eyes wide.

Finally, he just pointed, making a wheezing sound. “You…”

She took her shot first, nearly coughing at the overwhelming peppermint flavor, before turning her whole body to him. “Strip, loser,” she ordered with a smirk. “And, in case you don’t believe me…” Brave off the half-bottle of wine and the shot, she lifted her leg to splay it along the back of the sofa, confirming for him that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath her skirt. Laughing at the awestruck look on his face she returned to facing the telly, tucking her knees primly together. “I held up my end of the bargain…”

Coming back to life, he shook his head in disgust. “You’re not playing fair.” He whipped his shirt off, revealing his lovely muscular chest, and her knees squeezed together just a bit tighter.

“Well, lose quicker then, so we can go to bed.”

He didn’t win a single race after that, but an hour later, flat on his back on his living room floor wearing only a single sock, with a sticky and sweaty Rose collapsed on his chest, he couldn’t be bothered to care.

“I love Christmas.”

#bbatcfic #doctorroseprompts #31 Days of Ficmas #31 Days of Ficmas 2018 #ficandchips #Doctor Who #TenxRose #Tenth Doctor #Human!Ten #Rose Tyler #A Muppet Family Christmas #holiday movies #Cosier With You Universe

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nat-20s · 4 years ago

Note

PROMPT! the first time the s1 archive gang hangs out outside of work (any variation of the group, doesn’t have to be All of them)

This is only the Archive Assistant sqaud, bc I’m sorry Jon, but no bosses allowed. Also it’s VERY silly and soft bc sometimes u just wanna write nice things u know

(also also fuck I lovecompletely missed that this said “first time” they hang out but uhh. I hope u like it anyway.)

Tim Stoker like to think that, sometimes, not to toot his own horn, but he can be something of a genius. When a cousin’s cousin had offered to let him use their cozy little cabin for a night or two in exchange for help with moving, he had been struck with what could only be humbly described as “inspiration of the most divine nature”. For, as nice as a Friday evening away from it all by himself sounds, it’s so much nicer for a Friday evening away from it all to serve as Archival Assistants Bonding Time™. Or well, more like Tim and Sasha, Who Are Already Best Friends Forever, Figure Out What Martin’s Deal Is, Because For A Guy So Chatty, He Sure Is Mysterious Time™, but that’s not nearly as catchy. Truly, his plan was brilliant, bringing two compatriots and an excessive amount of food and drink to a spot away from the prying eyes of the world and bosses, and feast in the openness and silliness that comes from having a great fucking time.

His plan, and his genius, were tragically derailed. While he knew on their drive up that the air was rapidly getting cooler, Tim couldn’t have even pretended to predict that an hour into their stay would bring a freak blizzard that means they’re snowed in for the next three days, which was 3 times longer than he had accounted on spending with his coworkers/friends. There was more than enough food to last them, and almost enough alcohol, but as Sasha so kindly put it:

“First you make us reenact the first scene of every bad teen slasher movie, now there’s a fucking white out. If we lose power, I’m telling you, there is absolutely going to be a murder.”

“Pfft, no way. The guy who owns this place is one of those weird ass prepper types, there’s a back up generator for the back up generator. And even if we did lose power, we’re all much more the “huddle for warmth under a shared blanket in front of the roaring fire” types than the “get panicked and stab someone in darkness” types, right? Back me up here, Marto.”

Martin, who at three shots in is both hilarious and mean, directs his response to Sasha. “in the event of a black-out I vote we kill Tim. I can take him down and you can finish the job.”

Sasha tips her cup at him, saying, “I like the way you think,” at the same time that Tim yells out, “Hey! Why am I the one dying?!”

Sasha tells him, “Duh. This whole thing was your idea, which makes you the Dr. Black* of this situation. Any good mansion murder mystery dictates the the host dies first. Then, in a moment of entirely unplanned synchronization, her and Martin start chanting, “Host dies first! Host dies first!”

“Okay, you know what? Fuck both of y’all, it’s not my fault that you’re both thoroughbred city slickers that can’t handle being in a cabin with plumbing and running water and electricity. Didn’t either of you go camping as kids?”

Sasha replies “No I’m far too pretty for that,” while Martin bursts out laughing. It takes about 20 seconds for him to settle down. Wiping away a tear, he elaborates, “Sorry, sorry, just. Can not imagine my mother on a camping trip. I mean, sure, she probably hoped at one point or another that I’d be lost in the woods as a child, or maybe even now, but I think that’s a bit different.”

Tim leans over the kitchen counter, placing his chin in his hands as he says, “Oh shit, Martin lore. Spill the deets.”

Sasha, who’s loyalties tend to sway towards whatever’s most interesting in the moment, piles on with, “You called her your mother, not your mum. That’s means she’s pretty much a right bastard, or a member of the aristocracy, which is just another term for right bastard but you got to grow up as a rich kid. Am I right?”

It’s clear the the two of them have made a grave mistake. All joviality flees Martin’s expression, and he shrinks down both his physical presence and his voice to something that could easily be overlooked if someone wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, um, well, I definitely didn’t grow up as a rich kid. And, it terms of the ‘right bastard’ thing, she’s not- er. That’s to say, she’s- she’s sick and. She’s doing the best she can, given, given everything.”

Martin pointedly looks at his hands while Tim and Sasha panickedly look at each other. They go to either side of him, and when he doesn’t flinch away, they each place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tim immediately feels the itch to fill the heavy quiet, and he happens to know he has quite the talent for blazing on ahead after these kinds of moments. It’s how he’s survived basically party for the past decade. “Ooookay, I’m gonna go ahead and say that all depressing familial reveals shall be held off until at least the second night of being trapped. While Sasha may have irritatingly few skeletons in her closet in that regard-”

“I have Tory grandparents?”

“We all have Tory grandparents Sash, that’s absolutely nothing. As I was saying, while Sash’s family is boring and semi functional, you and me are gonna do some fuckin’ commiserating on our journey from work friends to friend friends. However, I’m going to have to be 40% drunker, go through a decently strong hangover, and then once again get hair of the dog drunk before I can even start to consider heading down that path. And in that spirit, I think it’s time to start up the drinking games. Truth or dare might end up a bit too heavy for our needs, but Never Have I Ever should suit us just fine. I know I’m gonna regret saying this considering Sasha is 100% going to target my ass, but I think we should establish that whoever puts all ten fingers down first has to chug the rest of the box wine.”

Sasha pipes up with, “Ugh, no, not drinking games, that’s such twenty-something bullshit. I expected better from you.”

“Hey, Martin is a twenty-something, so that still works fine actually-”

“Tim!”

“What?”

Martin’s directing wide, bordering on frantic, eyes at him, and Tim is almost certainly missing something, though he can’t for the life of him figure it out. Sasha’s head is bobbing slightly between the two of them, and shes apparently able to parse what Tim has not. “Oh! Martin, uh, I already know that you’re 2, and it’s cool.”

“Did..did Tim tell you or?”

Tim scoffs out an “I wouldn’t!” even though there’s a distinct possibility that, entirely on accident, he would, and Sasha makes a reassuring coo. “No, no, babe, nothing like that. It’s just that, uh, the Magnus Institute is kind of notorious for not doing any background checks pretty much ever, so when I get a new coworker, I..do it myself.”

Martin’s face blanches, and his eyes somehow get even wider. “Oh god, please don’t tell Jon or Elias, I know I don’t have the credentials, but I really need-”

“Woah, woah, I’m not gonna do that. First of all, archival assistant squad, we ride together we die together in a snowed in god forsaken log cabin, secondly, it’d be hypocritical as fuck if I got up your ass about qualifications. Not a single one of us is qualified for our jobs, not even Jon. Maybe especially not Jon. It’s like, raise your hand if you have a degree in library sciences. No one? Okay, cool, that’s not weird at all for an archive. Actually, maybe bring that up next time he gives you shit. He’ll be all like ‘bluh bluh, you didn’t document this spooky bullshit well enough, it’s not up to the High Standards here at Spooky Bullshit Emporium’ and you can be like ‘whatever buddy, you’re an English major, what do you fuckin’ know?’. It’ll be devastating. He’ll be devastated.”

Martin laughs in the manner of someone who knows that they shouldn’t be, and his shoulders relax into a lower position. “Why would you want me to devastate him? I thought you guys were friends?”

“We are, which is why we all collectively need to get back at Jon for acting like such a prick. He’s always been a bit temperamental, but I honestly don’t get what his deal is, especially with you. I mean, c’mon, you’re great, being mean to you is like kicking a puppy.”

“Thanks? I think?”

Tim pipes up with, “Oooo, since drinking games are apparently too childish for Sasha, what if instead we play ‘What’s Jon’s Deal Anyway, Featuring, Seriously, Why Target Martin, The Baby of The Archives’-”

“-That feels a bit reductive of who I am and I also I think I’m technically older than Jon?-”

“-Whoever comes up with the best explanation, and by best obviously I mean most entertaining, gets an all expense paid trip from the other two to one of the charity shops I know we all frequent.”

Sasha snorts, “Wow, a whole twenty quid, who could resist such temptation. But also, I’m in, I think I have a winner and I have a violent need to out-cardigan Jon.”

Martin’s relaxation is gone again, which Tim thinks need to be fixed through aggressively passing a glass of wine towards him. He takes it without protest, takes a long drink, and says, “This seems more like 3 am conversation than a 9 pm one.”

Sasha gives an encouraging nudge, prompting another drink, and replies, “Yeah, well, I am not gonna make it to 3 am. I’ve got about an hour until the Alcohol Sleepiness sets in, and I know Tim will be right behind me.”

“Sashaaaaaa, you’re ruining my reputation as a young-at-heart, party-all-night kind of guy.”

“Babe, you’ve complained about your bones aching often enough that you’ve never had that reputation.”

“Surrounded by mean drunks, that’s what I am. I should be pitied.”

Martin shoots a glance towards Sasha, then replies, “You’d be more pitiable if this entire thing wasn’t, you know, entirely your own fault.”

Sasha nods sagely, “It’s true. If you were pitiable then maybe you wouldn’t have to die first.”

“You know what? I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room, how about we divert some of that towards complaining about our bosses, as coworkers who are hanging out and having a good time and not bullying me are supposed to do.”

Sasha giggles slightly as she leans down and presses a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Aw, sorry, Tim. I promise to double cross Martin when if becomes killing time.”

Tim melts a little, even as he’s replying, “Wait, when?” Martin takes another sip and says, “Whatever. I could take you both.”

How the hell are you supposed to resist a set up like that? With an over the top wink and cheesy grin, Tim says, “I bet you could, big guy.”

He’s expecting a slightly flustered reaction, maybe a higher pitched voice and a blush, if he’s lucky. He gets all of those things, but it’s Sasha saying, “Oh my god.” Martin only gives him a raised eyebrow and level stare, and Tim makes a mental note to reevaluate his dedication to only considering Martin in a strictly platonic fashion. Sasha continues talking, cutting through the..tension? with, “Okay, now I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room. Tim, tell the studio audience what you think is up with Jon.”

Tim blinks, hard, gives a shake of his head, and says, “Oh, obviously the Jon we know is dead. His ‘promotion’ to Head Archivist was actually Elias killing him off and replacing him with a robot that has the command If: see Martin Then: be dick. Don’t worry Marto, now that Sasha is aware of the issue, she’ll surely be able to reprogram him.”

Sasha hums a bit, then says, “I buy it. I think my explanation’s better, but Elias does seem the “kill a dude and replace him” type. Like if I was gonna suspect any particular person of murder he’s in the top five.”

“Seriously? Elias? Somehow has middle manager vibes even though he’s the head honcho Elias? Mr. ‘I probably wore boat shoes and khaki shorts for the entirety of university’ Bouchard? Voted most likely to put a thin layer of mayo in between two pieces of white bread and claim it’s a sandwich Elias? The area man that’s almost certainly gone on record as saying that golf and networking are his favorite hobbies Elias? He’s far too boring to have committed a murder.”

Tim’s looking at Martin with shock and delight, and he knows Sasha is wearing the exact same expression. “More of this. Please describe more of the things that Elias is.”

“I mean, sure? Uhh, guy that would pay $80 for a dime bag because you told him it’s a premium strain. Person that ironically says things like “kids these days” and “the youths” and you know he’s talking about people well into their 30s. Genuinely believes that if you can afford a cell phone then you shouldn’t be complaining about being poor, because apparently a one time purchase of around a hundred bucks is the same as trying to pay monthly rent. Tells people to haul themselves up by their bootstraps. Thinks he got to where he was ‘without anybody’s handouts’ even though he’s had a trust fund since he was 15. Writes weekly editorials to the local newspaper complaining about the liberalization of media, and they’re like ‘sir, please stop submitting to us, we’re just trying to talk about Lisa’s gardening club’ because they can’t professionally tell him to fuck off. Thinks salt and pepper are the only spices one could ever possibly need, everything else is simply excessive. Somehow gay and homophobic. Like, yes, he’s taken a male lover, but he’s also seconds away from calling you a slur at any one time. Actually, no, that’s too interesting, and I refuse to believe he’s had a lover. Legally, he cannot have a lover, I’ve decided, so just gay and homophobic, both in theory alone. Has said that Boris Johnson is “a bit much, but really not so bad, and much better than any of the alternatives, really.” All of the cousins in his family banded together and officially got him banned from any sort of major holiday dinners. Basically every shitty boss you’ve ever had, especially if you’ve worked retail, rolled into one.”

Tim lets out a low whistle. “Damn, all right. Get fucked Elias.”

Sasha emphatically agrees, “Get fucked Elias.”

They all clink their glasses together, and then there’s a beat of silence before Martin says, “I’m pretty sure robots can’t get eye bags.”

Tim and Sasha let out a “huh” and “hmm?” respectively, so Martin elaborates. “You posited that Jon had been replaced with a robot. Pretty sure robots aren’t able to look that tired.”

Tim snaps. “Drat, you’ve pointed out the one flaw in my impeccable logic. So what d’you think is up with him? I know you don’t have the Before The Archives comparison, but I think you could provide a fresh perspective.”

“Oh, fuck, I don’t know. Two months ago, I might have had some choice words, but first off, you all genuinely got on, so it didn’t really make sense for him to be awful all the time, and secondly ever since the, um, worm thing, he’s actually been pretty nice? I haven’t heard any snide comments, and whenever I mess something up he’s a lot more, um, gentle about explaining what wrong. He actually complimented my work the other day so. I guess I think Jon’s deal was that he was stressed out and I was very nervous and not very good at my job and he picked up on that?”

“So you think he’s like a horse.”

“Explain.”

“He sensed your fear and he became skittish and irritable in kind.”

“Horses can sense fear?”

“Horses can sense everything.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Right?”

“Guys, we’ve gone on like four different tangents in one conversation. Martin, I’m very glad to hear that Jon’s changed his behavior towards, because it means I don’t have to yell at him on your behalf, you’re getting to see the person that me and Tim both know who is actually pretty cool, and also mostly because it feeds perfectly into my winning theory.”

“What, you’ve got something better than Martin’s ‘accurate but boring’ reasoning or my ‘super cool but now that I think about it for .5 seconds actually kind of a bummer robot’ knowledge?”

Sasha’s incredibly self-assured when she says, “I sure fuckin’ do. Jon’s secretly been in love with Martin the whole time, and he’s been previously overcompensating by acting like he hates him.” which makes Tim choke on air and Martin emphatically reply, “Fuck off, he is not.”

“No, no, hear me out, I have, I have receipts, as the kids say. First point of evidence: Martin’s stupid hot, and there’s no way that Jon is straight, so obviously he’s not gonna be impervious to that.”

“What?”

“Oh come off it Martin, it’s just a fact. Like, me personally? I don’t even do the whole romance thing, but the first time I ever saw you I blacked out slightly and thought ‘Now there’s a man I could raise some ferrets with.’.”

“I, um, I, well. Is that...supposed to be a euphemism for something?”

“What? No, I’ve just always wanted ferrets, and asking someone to raise pets with you is like the height of romance, I’m pretty sure. Back me up here Tim.”

“On the ferret thing or the Martin hot thing?”

“Either? Both.”

“Aight. Yes, asking someone to raise ferrets with you is basically a marriage proposal if that someone is Sasha, and I hate to break it to you Martin, but you’re incredibly good-looking. We’re all incredibly good-looking, to the point where I think the only qualification for the archives staff is being a straight up hottie. OH! We should name the group chat “straight up hottie squad”. Anyway, yep, point for Sasha.”

“Not a point for Sasha, even if I believe you about about my, em, physical attractiveness,-”

“-Don’t have to put belief in a fact, Marto-”

“-that doesn’t mean anything. By that logic, he’s equally as likely to be in love with either of you, and my money would be on Sasha if it was anyone, because you’re clearly his favorite.”

“Ah, but that’s exactly why it isn’t me, but thank you for the transition into my second point which is: Jon is the kind of person that sees anything that might make him vulnerable and starts aggressively defending himself against it, and what’s more vulnerable than a crush? He’s not crushing on Tim, because Tim’s fucking great, but sometimes he’s also the walking, talking embodiment of sensory overload, and while I myself I love that, Jon clearly gets a bit overwhelmed by it at times. He’s not into me, because he knows better than that, and overall I’m pretty non-threatening to his whole thing, so of course he’s going to be the most relaxed around me. You, on the other hand, are single, hot, kind to animals and people alike, and make a great cup of tea. Incredibly crush worthy, thus incredibly threatening, thus Jon acting like That.”

“Hmm, this still seems like something that comes from watching one too many corny rom coms, and that’ s coming from someone who loves corny rom coms.”

“I also love corny rom coms, but that’s completely beside the point. Because, okay, sure, if Jon had just been a weird asshole to you, I wouldn’t be like ‘oh, yeah, that’s a classic case of covering for something’ but you’re right about him being nicer since the worm thing. So nice, in fact, I shall be bringing in Timothy as my star witness that’s going to blow this whole case wide open. Martin, you may not have heard how Jon has started to talk about you, but me and Tim sure have.”

“God, yeah. Like if we thought he wouldn’t shut up about you before-

“-which he wouldn’t-”

“it’s gotten way worse now.”

“I think the whole life threatening worm woman flipped a switch for him and now he’s all fuckin. ‘Oh, Martin should stay in the archives, let me give him the place that I sleep.”

“Oh, Martin, I don’t think he should go out on too many research trips anymore, I’d much prefer for him to be ~nice and close~”

“Oh, Martin, good lord, did you know that his tea is quite good? I’m think it might actually be the best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, Martin, his work’s rather improved, don’t you think? It’s really quite impressive, especially considering all the stress he’s had to endure.”

“Oh, Martin, I just want him to take me into his big, strong arms and whisk me away from all of this.”

“He did not fucking say that last one.”

Sasha throws her arms up in the air. “He may as well have!”

Nodding sagely, Tim replies, “This whole thing holds water. I vote Sasha gets the shopping trip. Martin?”

Martin stares at his drink as if it has any ability to give him any sort of answers, then lets out a sigh with his entire body. “You know what? It’s probably nicer than whatever the fuck is the truth, so sure, why not? Let’s get Sasha her cardigans.”

Sasha lets out a whoop. “Hell yeah! Can’t wait for spree, assuming all three of us get out of this cabin alive.”

“Okay, nope, clearly Sasha needs another distraction. Got any suggestions, Martin?”

“Uh, wasn’t a karaoke machine part of the sales pitch for this place?”

“Martey babey, yes! I wouldn’t have thought you’d spring for that sort of thing!”

“If this were a public bar or something where I’d have to listen to drunk strangers and they’d have to listen to me, then no, I’d rather have my brain pulled through my nose a la mummification. But with only you guys and fourish drinks in? I’m down to clown.”

“Sash, you with us?”

“Dunno, what songs are there?”

Tim shrugs, and heads to the storage closet that contains all the various entertainment equipment. It takes a bit of searching, and a bit more digging, but he’s able to unearth the ancient portable karaoke machine. He also grabs some of the jigsaws, mostly on the thought that sometimes a bitch just wants to hang out with their friends and do a puzzle. Also because in light of the fact that they’re stuck inside with no sort of access to the outside world for two days longer than planned, there’s pretty much no way that they’re not going to reach a point where they all say fuck it let’s do a puzzle.

Plugging in the machine, it takes a solid several minutes to boot up, which is the perfect length of time to take it upon himself to take one for the team and chug the box wine himself, with Sasha and Martin chanting in the background. When he finishes, they cheer, and then Martin immediately shoves a glass of water for him to down as well, muttering something about how he wants him to be alive in the morning. Tim can tell he’s well inebriated by now, because the simple thoughtful gesture is enough to make him a little bit misty-eyed, and Sasha can attest to alcohol turning him into the world’s biggest sap. In order to avoid prevent himself from becoming the kind of person who says “I love you” in a gradually more sloppy repeat, he starts flipping through the discography of the now running machine. “Alright y’all, it looks like we got 80s songs or...80s songs. Ooo, they have the Grease 2 soundtrack.”

That gets him a well deserved “No!” from both parties, with Sasha adding on, “Not even if it was Grease 1. I’m putting an embargo on musical theater in general.”

“Oh come on, some musicals are better than other. Right, Marto?”

“I’m with Sasha on this one.”

“Boo. But fine, what do you want?”

Martin and Sasha glance at each other, and Tim’s amazed at how well the bonding night-turned-long-weekend has gone so far, considering they seem to have already mastered the art of silent communication. Martin speaks first, with, “They got Dolly Parton?”

The process of scrolling through individual letters to type is achingly slow, but luckily all he needs to get through is “DO” before she shows up. “They do.”

Sasha says, “Do they got 9 to 5, by Dolly Parton?”

Tim’s eyes light up with realization as he says, “They do,” and in a moment of spontaneous understanding, all three of them know that they’re not simply going to sing 9 to 5. No, they’re going to do a full blown music video for the benefit for nobody but themselves, because why the fuck not.

The next hour is spent in a very silly fashion. They figure out how to use the cabin’s layout to their advantage, assign various parts of the song to each person, and practice their inexpert choreography a few times with the song tinnily blasting from Sasha’s phone. The final result is hardly of professional quality, but it is of making them all giggle quality. It starts off in a relay like manner, each of them in a different area to coordinate with “Tumble of out bed and stumble to the kitchen” (Sasha on the couch), “Pour myself a cup of ambition”, (Tim at the coffemaker), and “Yawn and stretch and try to come to life” (Martin at the fridge), with them finally crowding around the karaoke machine together to scream sing the chorus. Despite their practice, they quickly go off key, and while they might end up with low points for accuracy, they get full marks on enthusiasm.

When the song ends, it takes them a few minutes to settle down into something less giddy. As they do, Sasha, out of breath, says, “Fuck me, I’m sleepy now. What the hell?”

Tim hums in affirmation. “Goddammit, I’m tired too. Let me guess, Martin, you’re young enough that you could go all night?”

“No? I’ve never pulled an all-nighter in my life. Actually, I know that it was supposed to be in case the power went out, but huddling together under a blanket in front of a fire sounds really nice? I mean, um, if you guys were down.”

Sasha leans her head against Martin’s shoulder and takes on the expression of a deeply content cat. “Mmm, I call Martin, he’s warm.”

“Absolutely not, I also want to leech Martin’s warmth. You good with being in the middle?”

Martin’s practically beaming, but his voice manages to almost fake being put upon. “I suppose it’s a sacrifice I could make.”

With Sasha already half asleep, Martin brings her over to the couch, while Tim gets them all set up. He manages to find the kind of big, fluffy blanket that all cabins should contain and wraps it around their shoulders. Luckily for them, the fireplace is gas lit and can be put on a timer. He sets it for 30 minutes, even though all three of them are going to be long passed out before them. Sasha is already softly snoring away, and Martin’s head keeps drifting down and snapping back up. Tim curls up against Martin’s other side, and even though all three of them are going to wake up with aching backs and worse heads, he thinks he really just might be a genius after all.

*Why is Mr. Boddy’s name Dr. Black in the UK. I hate that. Why would you not have the dumb joke of naming the victim “boddy”. Hey brits explain your crimes.

#anon #replies #nat fic #tma #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 5 years ago

Text

Peaches and a tyrannical sea

(I decided to play around with this prompt, trying to make the story not overly contrived. I’m not sure I succeeded at that 😂, but it was SO fun to write what I imagine of young Hayffie 💕. I became a bit addicted to this fic, and I didn’t know when, where, or how to stop. Plus, I discovered a path to joy through writing dialogue for Caesar Flickerman, and who can resist a path to joy? So this story got long, probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, and if you read all the way through to the end, then I’m in awe of your stamina and devotion to THG/Hayffie crack.)

Category 5 “Hurricane Cronus” hit the coast of District 11 less than a month after the 60th Hunger Games, right in the middle of the summer harvest.

Being inland, the Victors’ Village was barely touched, but Chaff’s hometown was destroyed. Every shack collapsed, and every citizen who couldn’t get to higher ground perished.

The Capitol projected the fallen into the night sky with lights and music. 24 decimated crops: apples, beans, blueberries, cabbage, cantaloupes, eggplant, figs, gooseberries, grapes, herbs, kale, muscadines, nectarines, okra, peaches, pears, peppers, potatoes, raspberries, summer squash, corn, tomatoes, and watermelon.

Montages on screens throughout Panem showed flooded fields, flattened plants, and broken orchards. The images were accompanied by the voice of Caesar Flickerman, thick with serious tones. “Cronus, Titan of the Harvest, has unleashed His wrath upon Panem. But through the strength of the Capitol, we will replant. We will rebuild.”

Haymitch hurled a half-empty liquor bottle at the screen in the Hob, nicking the corner and leaving a crack. If he’d been more sober, he would’ve nailed Caesar in the face.

“You’d better be careful, honey,” Greasy Sae warned him. “They can still find ways to hurt you.”

“I doubt that.”

The older woman knew Haymitch well enough to not touch him when he was angry, but she soothed with her voice.

“Is that friend of yours okay? ...The one in 11.”

Over the past decade, Chaff had become a lifeline for Haymitch. His companionship through each Games was effectively an antidote to alcohol poisoning. If Chaff didn’t drink more than his share, then Haymitch probably would have had cirrhosis of the liver before age 26. His buddy always managed to bring some laughter into the atrocities of mentorship.

Sae was right. Haymitch still had people to lose. The Capitol could still hurt him. They would keep on hurting him if he didn’t feign indifference. And throwing a bottle at the screen showed the opposite of indifference.

“He’s okay.”

Sae offered a smile. “Good. That’s good, boy. From the way the Peacekepers are talking, it sounds like there’s been a lot of death. At least a thousand with the count rising. Some people got no fresh water to drink.”

“And the Capitol eulogizes crops.”

“It ain’t right. That’s for sure.”

Haymitch wasn’t drunk enough to face this conversation. And he was pissed about having thrown away the rest of his liquor.

“Can I offer you a bowl of beef stew? ...It’s on the house,” Sae added.

Normally Haymitch wouldn’t turn down a free supper, but the mystery meats that Greasy Sae served up under the name of “beef” sometimes turned his stomach.

“Not hungry,” he lied, “But thanks for the offer.”

“You take care, honey.” Her face fell as she watched Haymitch walk away to buy more booze.

***

The Capitol was abuzz with excitement about the fundraising event planned for hurricane relief. Replanting and rebuilding would come at a cost, and an auction was an opportunity for the wealthy to show off the depths of their family pockets.

“‘Picnic with a Victor’ is the promotional title,” Claudius Templesmith announced on screens throughout Panem.

“Sunshine... a day in Capitol Park... by the water...” Caesar responded with a neon white smile and a slap to his knee. “I LOVE it!”

Seated side-by-side in red velvet chairs, the two bantered back and forth about event details.

“The baskets will be stocked with delicacies prepared by the Capitol’s finest chefs, and made from crops harvested before Cronus hit our very own District 11.”

“Claudius, I’ve heard whispers that the picnics will include artesian wines made, not from grapes, but from muscadines.”

“Ah, muscadines! Amazing and desired for their incredible super-fruit properties.”

“Sweet, aromatic, and native to District 11. A truly unique Panem experience and proudly exported across the globe.”

“Caesar, do we know yet which victors have volunteered to picnic with the highest bidders?”

“Well, we’ve been trying to keep that, shall we say, under wraps, but if you twist my arm, I might be able to let out some hints.”

“Well then consider yourself twisted!”

“Ha HA, you know me so well!! And ouch, not so hard!” The two of them filled the airwaves with hysterial laughter.

“Seriously now. Let’s tell them.”

A drumroll began off camera as Caesar and Claudius took turns dramatically listing off numbers of the Games of the participating victors.

Effie was listening with mild disinterest until Caesar said “50.” When he said “50,” she knew her life was about to change. She was bound and determined to MAKE it change.

***

“Mother, Daddy, this is an excellent opportunity to be noticed, not just by society but by the professors who will be influencing my education and future career opportunities,” Effie lobbied hard to bid in the auction. At 18 years old, her parents’ permission was not as deep of a concern for her as their financial backing.

An afternoon with Haymitch Abernathy would draw a price. He was reclusive and young, but not young enough to deter the interests of wealthy older women, and men for that matter.

Effie would have competition in the bidding. She was certain about that in the same way that she knew wigs would be all the rage in a few years. Some things an observant and savvy woman simply KNOWS, and Effie considered herself to be both observant and savvy.

She’d inherited money from her great-grandmother, but she could keep that in savings accruing interest if her parents would back her now.

“Which victor will you bid to picnic with?” her mother asked.

“I’ll decide based on the way they present themselves on stage,” Effie answered evasively. “I want an investment which reflects positively on our family.”

“You need to be careful,” her father insisted, “Alto made such a showing in the Games last year that he’ll surely draw a high price, probably more than we can afford. Whoever you bid on, you need to win.”

“I’ll judge by applause and whispers in the crowd. I’ll be discerning; I won’t bid if I can’t win. ...Daddy, do I EVER lose?” Effie glanced between her parents without a single blink of her false purple eyelashes.

When her father blinked, she knew she had their support. “Your budget is $5000. Invest wisely.”

Effie would not be deterred by the limits of her parents’ generosity. Haymitch would be hers for the afternoon, no matter the cost. She’d imagined a connection with him for too long to let this opportunity slip through her fingers. Her classmate, Fulvia Cardew, would help. She was sympathetic to Effie’s interests, and with extended family in banking, Fluvia had deeper pockets than the president.

***

Haymitch would’ve almost preferred death over participation in the *dog and pony show* that this fundraiser was sure to be. Except Chaff had confided in him details of how badly the coast of District 11 had been wiped out. Since the Capitol depended on 11 to literally feed the lavish lifestyle of its citizens, then money raised would be of some help to the people of district. The Capitol needed workers alive, and for people to be stay alive to work they required basic shelter, drinkable water, and rations of food. Since Cronus, many towns in 11 lacked most essential survival needs.

Haymitch took pleasure in imagining Snow in fear about where his next meal would be coming from. Though he knew the tyrant would be the LAST person in Panem to go hungry. It would never come to that. Surely a traitor in his inner circle would slaughter that pig and eat him before either of them starved. The traitor would probably die afterward from the poison in Snow’s veins. Haymitch would have taken pleasure in all of that imagery too if it didn’t make him want to vomit.

August was warm in the Capitol. Late afternoon temperatures usually reached high into the 80s. So the auction was set for morning with the victory picnics beneath shade trees by the lake. An elaborate system of misters had been rigged up throughout the covered amphitheater and the Capitol Park.

Oh, the *horror* if one of these hoity-toity Capitol people should melt in the sunshine before the bidding even started. Haymitch had the thought, but the misters actually felt great by mid-morning when the participating victors were called on stage one-by-one for their interviews with Caesar, who was functioning as Master of Ceremonies.

Caesar introduced each of them to the audience by name, number of their district, and number of their Games. Each victor had been directed the night before to memorize a brief script about what moved them to volunteer for the fundraiser. The script Haymitch had been given included a ridiculous ode to peach trees.

He had let himself be dressed up for the event. He’d even let them trim his hair and shave his face. He’d get up on that stage mostly sober. He would smile and let himself be auctioned off to the highest bidder. But there was no way in hell he was going to eulogize peaches when nearly every person in his best friend’s hometown was a corpse.

He had a flash of the Seam and the dead bodies of his loved ones, poisoned. That was 10 years ago, and the flashbacks still came to haunt him with pale faces. In earlier more innocent times, he and his brother had found a peach tree while exploring north in the district. That was in the days of fewer Peacekepers and fewer questions about destinations. His brother picked two peaches, one for each of them. The flavor, texture, and color were unlike anything Haymitch had experienced before. That peach was full of dualities: sweet and tart, uncomfortable skin yet soothing flesh, solid and juicy. Yellow and red swirled on his tongue.

He thought of that peach years later when he had sex with his girlfriend the night before the Reaping. HIS Reaping. She felt like that peach when he came inside her. So tender. It was his first time. A few weeks later she was a ghost.

Haymitch shivered under the misters, waiting like livestock in line for slaughter. He needed a drink, badly, but if not for sobriety, then in lieu of delivering an ode to the fruit, he might inadvertently describe making love with the girlfriend murdered by Snow.

That conversation would not only get him killed, but would get him the wrong type of bidders. He was a volunteer today, not a prostitute. This commitment did not carry over from afternoon into evening. He would not be fucking the fool willing to pay hundreds of dollars for his company, some food, and a hill-billy-red-neck bottle of wine.

...Except for maybe HER, he thought as he scanned the paddle holders in the crowd. That girl with blonde hair. He’d fuck somebody like her, all soft and shit, dressed up in clothes and makeup that made her look older than she probably was.

***

“He’s looking at you,” Fulvia whispered to Effie, “He’s been staring at you for at least a minute.”

Of course he’s looking at me. Have you seen me today? Effie thought. Manners prevented her from praising herself out loud.

She met Haymitch’s gaze and offered him a controlled smile, warm but not flashy. I see you, was what she wanted to communicate for now. The rest could wait until after she won the bid.

Their eye contact broke when someone poked Haymitch in the back. Caesar had called him onstage, “Winner of the 50th Hunger Games, from District 12, Haymitch Abernathy!” While eye-fucking with her, he’d missed his cue.

Effie watched him saunter over to Caesar, as if things like cues and pace were irrelevant. He relaxed into the chair with his knees slightly splayed, like he and Caesar were old friends meeting at a bar. Effie half-expected Haymitch to call out for a server to bring them drinks. Maybe he and Caesar actually WERE friends. She knew nearly nothing of the life of a victor.

“Haymitch...” Caesar began, “It’s a rare treat to have you here, the victor of a Quarter Quell.” Then to the audience he added, “Isn’t this exciting!!”

The audience cheered wildly. They’d been served pink champagne all morning in an effort to up the bidding. A few people were already raising their paddles. Effie held hers firmly by her side. Patience. Control, she told herself. She would not appear too eager. With this event televised throughout Panem, her every move was a reflection on herself and her family.

“Now, hold on, ladies and gentlemen,” Caesar continued, “Let’s allow this young man to introduce himself.”

Effie liked the way Caesar called him young. Over the past several years, Haymitch’s shoulders had broadened and his body had filled into its frame. His eyes sunk deeper with each Games, but his face was still boyish. She still saw in him the kid who held Maysilee’s hand as she died.

“What inspired you to volunteer to be here today?” Caesar asked gravely.

Haymitch pushed his hair back from his eyes, and spoke not to Caesar, but to the cameras, to all of Panem.

“I have friends in 11.” He thought of Chaff and Seeder. “They grew up there climbing trees in the orchards. Kids are light enough to reach the fruit at the top, so they climb a lot and grow strong — but not as strong as a tyrannical sea...

“...I ate a peach once. The kid who picked it is gone now. I couldn’t save him, and I couldn’t save those kids in 11 either who were flattened under the walls of their own houses. When you’re a scared kid, you run home.” He looked straight at Effie, and in that moment she felt the weight of so much she didn’t understand.

“...But sometimes home is the least safe place to be. I’m here today to help raise money so the families that survived Cronus can have shelter, fresh water, and food again.”

Caesar was as stunned into silence as the crowd.

Haymitch quickly added from the script that he’d ripped up the night before, “...So they can replant and rebuild through the generosity of the Capitol.” He skipped the ‘Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever’ victory tour-style bullshit.

“And replant and rebuild they shall.�� Caesar’s gloom rapidly up-shifted to elation. “...Am I right, folks?!”

The crowd broke into thunderous applause, and the bidding for a picnic with Haymitch began.

“Shit...” Fulvia muttered, “After that speech, he’s going to cost a fortune.”

“Language!” Effie chastised her lightly, “We’re all on the monitors.”

“Well, he will. How much do you have?”

“$5000 plus the money my Nana left me, but I’m hoping to save as much as I can of that for after University.”

“Let’s see if that’s enough.”

Effie pressed her paddle to the side of her skirt. Her hands were shaking. She watched the bidding go back and forth between several individuals, with Caesar raising the amount in $100 increments, as he had with the other victors.

Most of the bidders eventually fell away, and a battle commenced between two women Effie didn’t recognize. Fluvia knew them through her family’s social circle.

“The short one’s divorced. The other is widowed. Her husband died last year of a heart attack while screwing his secretary. Both of their investments are shit right now.”

“Once again, language! ...And thank you for the information.”

“Let them tire each other out, and then jump in.”

When Caesar said, “$4500. Do I hear $4600? No? $4500 going once...” Effie raised her paddle as high as she could reach. Since she was wearing 5 inch heels, her bid couldn’t be missed.

“$4600 it is! Do I hear $4700?...”

The bidding continued between Effie and the widow. Effie selfishly hoped the dead deadbeat husband hadn’t left her with millions in insurance money that Fluvia knew nothing about.

$4800... $4900... $5000... “I am absolutely thrilled! Are you thrilled!?” Caeser chimed in, and the audience cheered again.

Effie refused to be distracted. She didn’t look at the audience or the widow or Fluvia or even Caesar. Just Haymitch. Just those sunken eyes that had seen things she wanted to understand. She didn’t dare glance at his mouth. Patience. Control. She needed to stay on task.

She kept her paddle up now, trying to intimidate the widow, wanting her to think that Effie was bidding with all the money in the world, rather than an allowance from her parents and her personal savings.

The widow took the bid to $5100, but Effie refused to let go. She kept her paddle up, dipping now into the money from her great-grandmother. Nana would approve of this investment, Effie justified. Because this is an investment in ME.

Effie kept her paddle raised as the widow volleyed with her until Effie had the bid at $7000. The widow glared at Effie whose eyes stayed fixed on Haymitch. Fluvia, however, flashed the widow a wry smile and waggled her fingers in a clear message... This girl is with me, Fluvia Cardew, of the multi-millionaire Cardews. We own the banks, honey, and we’re not backing down. You’re wasting your time.

“Do I hear $7100? No? $7000 going once... going twice... and the picnic is sold! Congratulations to the winner! Ms...” Caesar glanced at the monitor which matched her paddle number to her name, “...Effie Trinket!”

Everyone cheered except for the widow, the divorcee, and a handful of earlier competitors. Fluvia embraced Effie, pressing a plump silver-flower-tattooed cheek to Effie’s flushed one. “Holy shit! You did it.”

Effie didn’t bother to chastise this time about language. Her hands were steady now, but the rest of her body was shaking.

***

Haymitch knew he wouldn’t forget the intensity in those blue eyes for as long as he lived. A tyrannical sea was nothing compared to this girl. He shook Caesar’s extended hand and then left the stage to gather with the other chosen victors as the bidding continued for the rest.

“$7000 for lunch with me?” He uttered with incredulity. “Capitol people! That girl isn’t a fool though. She was stoic as fuck. What’s her motivation?”

“She wants more than lunch.” Chaff clapped him on the shoulder and left the pressure of his hand there to emphasize a point. “I saw you two eying each other before you even went on stage. I know she’s hot, man, but she’s jailbait. Maybe she’s technically legal, since she was bidding and all. But if you touch that girl, I guarantee her father will hunt you down for his own picnic, and he’ll hand you your ass on a platter.”

“I wasn’t thinking about touching her. I was thinking about 11 and the goddamn script and peaches...”

Chaff lifted his eyebrows, and Haymitch lowered his voice to confess.

“...And now I’m thinking about eating peaches off her body. Jesus Christ. Did you see her out there?! Who is Effie Trinket?”

“I don’t know, but you’ll find out soon.”

***

Effie had spent her entire life rehearsing the practice of patience and control. She wore those manners as masks while the auction continued and the sun climbed the sky. She didn’t let her guard down, even as the cameras moved on to other bidders and winners. She could credit the heat with flushing her cheeks. No one would notice her shaking, except maybe Fluvia, but her friend wouldn’t make a big deal of it. Effie applauded when the audience applauded. She declared, “Wonderful!” with each sum of money raised.

Inside herself she was a cyclone of insanity with a pounding heart, feeling everything but patience and control.

When the auction was finished, she made her donation through a system of direct withdrawal from her bank account. Sometime between her winning the bid and making payment, her parents had transferred an additional $2000; therefore, she wouldn’t need to dip into her savings today. OF COURSE they did. There would have been nothing more embarrassing for the Trinkets than their daughter coming up short financially in such a public way. Then again, her inheritance from Nana wasn’t a secret, so maybe they simply saw wisdom in Effie’s investment.

When the donation was complete, an official escorted her across the Capitol Park lawn to her picnic. Haymitch was sitting on a shaded blanket with his back against a tree and his legs out straight, crossed at the knees. His pants were rolled half-way up his shins, and his shirt sleeves to his elbows. His tie draped over the back of his neck, the buttons of his vest were unhooked, and his shoes and socks were off.

He watched her approach and didn’t stand up to greet her. This would have miffed Effie if he didn’t look so good sitting there, casual, like with Caesar on stage, as if she was a friend he was waiting for before ordering drinks rather than a stranger who just paid thousands of dollars to have lunch with him.

“You’ve come undone,” she said, as she kneeled across from him on the blanket, just close enough to reach out and touch.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Me undone is not such a pretty sight.”

She mulled over his words, and chose hers carefully, “We’ll see about that.”

She held out her hand, covered from wrist to knuckles in lace gloves woven with golden thread. “I’m Effie.”

Haymitch consided his options. He could shake her hand. He could hold her fingers and kiss her knuckles. Or maybe...

He leaned forward and slipped his fingertips beneath the lace at her wrist and peeled off her glove slowly enough for her to object, but she didn’t.

She liked the way he did it, gently and without asking. His hands were uncaloused. The touch was soft along her skin.

He laid her glove on the blanket between them and captured her hand between both of his. “Haymitch,” he said.

“I...” She could feel her cheeks blazing and made a mental note to wear more layers of makeup in the future to prevent her feelings from being so readily exposed. “...I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “These picnics are being televised. Is your father watching?”

“Possibly. ...Act chivalrous.” She presented her other hand, which he divested of its glove in the same manner as the first.

“I don’t ACT, sweetheart.” He whispered, “Chivalry isn’t what I have in mind when I take off a woman’s clothes.” Shit. He was flirting with this girl, and he MEANT it. She was lighting him up like crazy.

Effie thrilled at the thought of him regarding her as a woman. She had wondered if her youth might prevent him from perceiving her as she was.

“And chivalry isn’t what I’m thinking about when a man takes off my clothes,” she whispered back.

He recognized that despite the differences in their ages, she possibly had more experience with nakedness than he did. He found himself picturing her that way. wondering what shape her breasts would take when not fashioned by the stays of a corset. Would they be soft, like her hands?

“My eyes are up here, Haymitch.”

This girl was bossy beyond her years. Either she was precocious or a bitch or both. He didn’t know yet. Whatever it was, he was amused and turned on, especially after imagining her breasts in his hands. How did this turn personal so quickly? This Effie was a Siren. He would need to be cautious.

“I was just wondering where’s your school uniform?” He teased her, subtly inquiring about her age.

“Burned! I’m attending University.” She was vague about her age with intention.

Too bad, Haymitch thought. He wouldn’t mind seeing her in one of those pleated Academy skirts.

“Thirsty?” The wine was uncorked and chilling in a bucket of melting ice.

Effie nodded, eager to be just a bit drunk with him. Not too much, but enough to let go of a modicum of tight control.

Haymitch had been sober all morning. This girl had been a welcome distraction from craving, but he was salivating now in anticipation of a drink, even if it was just muscadine wine. Stemmed glassware for a picnic was Capitol nonsense. He was tempted to drink straight from the bottle and pass it to her to do the same, but he resisted. He set the goblets on the breadboard and filled them. The wine was the color of crushed plums.

Effie curled her legs to the side and relaxed onto the blanket. She unzipped her boots and slipped them off along with knee-high stockings. “When in Rome...“ she said as Haymitch stared at her bare calves and feet.

“Let’s drink to that.”

She swirled the wine in her glass before clinking his. “And what else did the Romans do — besides picnic in bare feet?” she asked after a sip.

He drank the contents of the goblet in one swallow. He wouldn’t hide who he was, not from this girl or anyone else. “The Romans were into self-indulgence.”

She followed his lead and swallowed half the wine in her glass. “Satisfying one’s desires, pleasures, lusts, and whims without restraint?”

Capitol parties, he thought, wondering if she was old enough yet to take part in that life.

“A lot of that happens here...”

He admired her for being aware of at least that much.

She lowered her voice. “Except in the House of Trinket, where the only *indulgence* encouraged is in perfecting oneself.”

He took another look at her in light of that personal information. Her long blonde hair swooped over her forehead and trailed down her back in immaculate soft curls. Not one hair was out of place, even with misters and fans blowing at a summer picnic.

“Is there much self-indulgence in District 12?” she asked.

Clearly an Academy education didn’t teach much about the real world. “Only in the *House of Abernathy.*” He refilled their goblets and drank more slowly this time.

“Are you mocking me?” she asked straight-up.

His tone had indeed been mocking, and he hadn’t really meant for it to be. He liked this girl, and he wouldn’t judge her for things she’d never seen or heard before.

“I’m mocking my own reality, sweetheart. ...You know how many victors live in 12.”

“Only you...” She didn’t know what that meant for him other than the words sounded lonely. Victors were celebrities here in the Capitol. Maybe it wasn’t like that in the districts. Maybe... “Are you alone?” she asked, “In the *House of Abernathy*...”

What to say to her? She surely didn’t pay all that money to spend an afternoon listening to his sad stories. Though something about her made him want to speak openly in the way he told the cameras about 11. Something about her made him want her to know the truths of the world, while her mind was still supple like her skin.

“I’m not alone today, not here,” was his answer. Evasive, yet true.

She watched his mouth say the words. His lips were lightly stained by the wine. Effie had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in her life. “Haymitch...” She touched him instead, caressing tanned skin and fine hair just beneath the rolled up hem of his pant leg.

She felt so good; he closed his eyes for a moment. Then they shot open. Chaff was right. If he wasn’t careful, this girl would be his downfall. “Effie... the cameras...”

It was the first time she heard him say her name. She smiled and reluctantly withdrew her hand. “Are you hungry?”

That question was safer to answer, but barely. “What’s in the basket?”

Effie took out one item at a time: Steak sandwiches with melted cheese on dark crescent-shaped rolls dotted with seeds, the signature bread from district 11... A warm succotash of corn, shelled green beans, diced potatoes and summer squash, tomatoes, multi-colored sweet peppers and okra... And for dessert an apple pie, plus sliced peaches in a jar full of honey. The latter inspired Haymitch to revisit his daydream from earlier. The honey only added to the fantasy.

This one basket contained more food than an entire family from District 11 or 12 would eat in a week or more. Should he mention that in response to her earlier question about self-indulgence? Maybe later. For now he’d rather be with her in the fantasy.

“A $7000 picnic. Is it what you were hoping for?”

“Let’s taste everything and find out.”

As they ate and drank, their questions for one another grew more intimate.

“I always watch for you among the victors at these events, but I’ve never seen you do this kind of thing before.”

“You watch for me?” He grinned. “HOW LONG have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to know you’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“I don’t do these kinds of things because I don’t like feeling like livestock... or a hooker.”

Effie gasped. “Haymitch, I wouldn’t! I’ve thought about you a long time. This isn’t a passing fancy. My interest is too marked to pretend I’m not pursuing you. But I’d never expect you to...” She lowered her voice to a murmur. “I didn’t invest that money so you would... fuck me.”

...I want more than that, she didn’t say.

...I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if these cameras and people would disappear, he didn’t say, but he’d decided it this morning the first moment he saw her.

He grazed her pinky with his, liking the idea of her *pursuing* him, whether or not her efforts were misguided. “HOW LONG?” he pressed,

“This feels like confession.”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t a priest. I just want to know you.”

Effie released a long sigh of feelings she’d been holding in forever. “10 years.”

“Shit. Since the Games?! You were just a kid.” You’re still just a kid. ...Only she wasn’t.

“I sat for an hour every day for years as my mother wove pink ribbons into my hair. In the stillness I thought a lot about the boy who separated from his friend in the Games so they wouldn’t have to kill each other — the boy who held her hand so she wouldn’t have to die alone. I watched you grow up in my mind more than anyplace else.”

Her honesty deserved his in response. “That boy is gone. It’s just me now... a man who drinks in order to try to sleep through nightmares — a man who goes to bed alone so I don’t accidentally slit anybody’s throat. ...It may not be what you paid all that money to get to know about me, but it’s the truth.”

Effie was stunned into silence and sympathy. She felt pity for him now, and she didn’t want to. There were some realities she wasn’t quite ready to face. His description wasn’t what she imagined the life of a victor should be.

She wore masks well, but he could see the change in her expression, and he didn’t like it. Pity, especially from a Capitol girl, was the last thing he wanted. But better that than her wasting her life dreaming about somebody who isn’t even real.

“Why DID you come here today? Beyond what you told Caesar.”

“One of those friends I mentioned in 11 — well, the hurricane flattened his hometown. Hundreds of people died, and the survivors have nothing, honey.”

“HUNDREDS of people died?”

“Over a thousand.”

“Why did the news show only crops?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I don’t expect they’re gonna teach you that at University.”

More sympathy crept over Effie. She was overwhelmed and started shivering like during the bidding.

Haymitch wasn’t sure what to offer her. She was so close to still being a kid herself. But with the face and body and guts of a goddess.

“Do you want to get out from under these misters and walk down to the water? We could pack the food away and eat more later. If we just have this one day...” He didn’t finish the thought. This day was hers. He’d let her fill it in anyway she wanted.

“We’ll have more than this one day. Every fiber in my being tells me we will.”

There was no point in arguing with so much gumption. He stood up and held out his hand. She grasped it, and he pulled her up. They walked barefoot through the grass, then ran across the beach to the water’s edge where the damp sand cooled the soles of their feet.

The lake lapped at Effie’s toes and she scribbled in the sand with one. How many times in adolescence had she come to this spot and written “Effie Abernathy” over and over again, dotting each “i” with a heart? Had she been a fool?

“There’s a lake near 12. It’s a secret spot. My brother and I used to sneak there as kids and swim naked so we wouldn’t have to hike back home in wet clothes.”

Now she was picturing Haymitch naked. And wanting him naked, regardless of his drinking and nightmares and sleeping with knives — and regardless of what she said she didn’t expect from him. She’d been with boys, plenty of boys, but he was a man, and she was so curious about the way he would fill her.

Effie cleared her throat of unspoken longing and pedaled backward in the conversation. “You have a brother...”

“I had a brother then. ...He died a couple of weeks after the Quarter Quell.”

She brushed her fingers against his, wishing she could offer more, but the cameras were on them. “I’m sorry,” she said in reference to everything.

“It was a long time ago.”

“You must miss him.”

Haymitch nodded. “He’s more free dead than alive. It’s a small comfort.”

Effie wanted to understand. She just didn’t.

“My great-grandmother died too shortly after your Games...”

District 12 is in your future, dear, Nana had said. And that boy is an important part of it. Effie dwelled a moment in silent memory before confessing more.

“...She told me you’d be in my future.”

Haymitch had no faith in fortune telling wishes and dreams. He usually flipped people off who tried to tell him how the future would be. The shit he’d been through was unfathomable. How could anyone predict anything but more horror.

“That said, Nana was a bit eccentric in the end.” Effie smiled wistfully.

“You still miss her...”

“Every day. Unconditional love is a rare gift.”

“Do you think her *prediction* was just eccentricity?”

“It was a long time ago, but I remember how certain she was.”

“How can anyone be certain about anything in this world?”

Effie considered his question. “Did you know I would win the bid today?”

Haymitch thought of that drawn out moment with her eyes on him and her paddle in the air. “Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw it in your eyes... Determination, and this... wild control.”

“Maybe that’s how my Nana knew.”

“She saw our future in your eyes?”

He said ‘our future’ like it was almost fated. Maybe it was a slip, but Effie wouldn’t ignore it.

“I didn’t ask her. And then it was too late to ask her.”

She gazed down at the sand, and the tips of her long purple eyelashes touched her cheeks. They were the same color as her skirt which loosely hugged her curves then flared at mid-thigh. The hem brushed her knees as she moved. She reminded him of the violets that bloom in 12 after the snow melts. Birdfoot Violets his mother used to call them. He smiled at the name, watching Effie’s toes curl in the sand.

When she looked up at him, her eyes reflected the water, the sky, and intensities of her own. Haymitch had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in his life.

“Later, when these cameras are gone, do you want to go somewhere together?” she asked.

“Cameras are never gone. They’re always watching, even when you least expect them to be. He recalled Greasy Sae’s warning, “You’d better be careful. They can still find ways to hurt you.”

He’d been so preoccupied with thinking that Effie might be his downfall that he hadn’t considered the possibility that he could be HER downfall. Intensity crashed over him in waves. He hadn’t expected to feel any of this. Yet here it was.

Effie picked up a stick and started writing in the damp sand. To anyone at a distance it would look like play. ‘Cameras aren’t watching quite everywhere.’

He erased her note with his foot then took the stick and wrote, ‘Where would we go?’

Her turn to erase and write. ‘I know a bar. It’s just dark enough...’

‘When?’ He wrote.

‘Tonight?” ...She hesitated, then dotted the ‘i’ with a heart.

“You’re so young,” he said aloud, “You have your whole future ahead of you. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“I hold my own. No one’s going to hurt me. ...Not even you, honey.”

He wanted to believe her. He erased the letters, leaving the heart for an instant, then brushed that away too. The word stuck in his throat. He could either swallow it or say it out loud.

“Tonight,” he whispered, “...And bring the jar of peaches — in case this afternoon isn’t enough.”

#hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #chaff #caesar flickerman #fluvia cardew #thg #thg fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #claudius templesmith #greasy sae #the capitol #HayffieFics

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msjr0119 · 5 years ago

Text

One Temptation

Part 11

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Riley Brooks moves back to New York after leaving five years prior- struggling to get by in life she wanted to go home. After getting mugged, a woman and man come to her rescue and offer her a job at their strip club. A rich business man Liam Rhys is forced to visit the club as part of his bachelor party. What will happen that night?

Tags- I’m just tagging people who have previously commented or personally asked to be tagged.

If you want to be removed let me know 😊: @pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @kozabaji @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @jared2612 @princess-geek @desireepow-1986 @indiacater

Warnings: Swearing, smut, verbal abuse.

*****

“Is the baby mine? Is Alice having a sibling?” Remaining silent, she placed her hand over her stomach. Closing her eyes, she knew exactly who the father was- regret? Maybe? Running away, Liam remained stood dormant overthinking the situation- if she was pregnant with his child they would be the perfect family- the family that he had always imagined. Although he would never confess what he had done to his children.

Drake ran after her, he had supported her last time so believed that he was the best shoulder for her to cry on.

“What are you doing sitting on the floor?” Noticing her sat on the kerb outside the hotel lobby, he knew she was upset- but didn’t realise that she was that upset to risk a cab running over her feet.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stay in there. Maybe Bertrand and Savannah should have kept it as a family only invite. The baby shower, you punched him. Today I punched him- again. Now the whole of New York City will be thinking that I need to pay Maury a visit with Liam’s comment...” Referring to him assuming that the baby was his, she could imagine the headline on the Maury show ‘ex boyfriend cheats on me, impregnates the other woman. Then raped me years later. Now I’m pregnant and he believes that he is the father.’

“Liam would be able to support you both, he has the money to do that. Don’t ruin your second chance at being a Mom. I know he’s an arsehole, but that is your baby. I’ll support you as I did last time. I care about you too much to let you go through all of this alone. You also have Leo, Max and Bertrand. Please don’t abort another child. You’ll regret it again.”

“I’m not going to abort it. I can’t....”

“Good- I wouldn’t allow you to either, do you want me to take you home?” He interrupted her, thankful that she wasn’t going regret another decision.

“You didn’t let me finish what I was saying, Drake....”

“Sorry, what was you saying?”

“I’m not going to abort it. I can’t do it to us again.” Empathising the word ‘us’ Drake didn’t realise why- he just assumed that she meant her and the baby. “The baby isn’t Liam’s. After the rape, I had those tests done. They advised me to do a pregnancy test a month after- which I did and it was negative. I did another a week after that. The only person I’ve slept with is sat next to me. At your moms before I left and at the Crowne plaza...”

*****

Getting off the subway near Central Park, she was too punctual with her timings- not wanting to be stuck in the crowds waiting for him, she decided to have a stroll towards broadway and Times Square. It would be a fifteen minute walk, if she walked at a normal pace- knowing she would still be early, she would take her time.

Arriving at 7th Avenue, she was still too early to meet him. Noticing a group of people dancing, she paused as she watched Maxwell in the middle of them- Shaking her head, she should have known to expect him completing in such a thing. Forcing her way to the front of the crowd, she had time to support her best friend. Nearly having a heart attack, witnessing him do a back flip- she was relieved when he landed gracefully on two feet.

“Go, Maxi!” Hearing her voice, he wondered why she was there- leaving the troupe, he ran up to her- picking her up and swinging her around like a rag doll.

“Stranger! It’s good to see you!”

“I should have guessed that you’d be showing off. What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was due to meet Daniel for a drink, but I got distracted. You?”

“Erm, I’m meeting...” looking at the time, she needed to get her arse into gear and finish the brief reunion. “Max, I need to go. I’ll text you, we can meet up for a drink at some point?”

“Sounds like a plan.... I’ll text you tomorrow. Love ya!” Placing a kiss on her cheek, he returned to the circle - encouraging the crowd to join them.

......

Making her way further down the streets, she stopped abruptly causing the rush of people to ‘tut’ at her. Panic ran through her veins. Attempting to ignore the fact of who she had just seen, she had failed as his eyes locked onto hers - fuck, she murmured to herself.

“Riley!” Hearing his voice, she was trying desperately to get lost within the crowd until she felt his hand grip her arm.

“Liam, I’m actually really busy. I need to go.”

“As am I. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi. Goodbye.”

“Ri...” noticing that she couldn’t look at him, he knew he didn’t deserve it. “I came to the club when the police informed me about what you did, but you wasn’t there. I just want to say thank you.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I really need to go.”

“Before you do, I have a proposition for you... you seem to care about my daughter. This isn’t about us, I was going to ask you if you wanted to become her nanny, home school her. That way you could sort of get your dream job of being a teacher.”

“She has a nanny.”

“Yes she does, but Alice idolises you. I will buy you an apartment, pay you a good wage.” He is unbelievable. Fuck off liam.

“No thank you. Bastien is trying to gain your attention, a man in a suit is stood with him. See you around Liam.”

“Just consider it, please. I’ll Erm, text you or something?” Riley got her phone out as she left him, furious that he would even consider this- she knew Liam, and she knew that he would use his daughter as an excuse to get close to her. Li 💕 - forgetting that she had kept the love heart emoji next to his name all these years - she edited his name to ‘piece of shit’ then blocked him.

........

Riley made her way to the location where they had arranged to meet. Pausing as she got closer to him, she took a deep breath- and counted to ten. It’s going to be okay.

“Hi.” She said nervously as she tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hello. I didn’t think that you’d come. I got you these. You deserve everything and more.” Smelling the flowers, the scent surrounded them filled her senses.

“They are beautiful, thank you. So what do you need to talk about?”

“You. Me. Us.” Riley furrowed her eyebrows at the man stood in front of her.

“I don’t have time to be sentimental. I just want to look forward to my future- the last week or so I’ve been the happiest I’ve been in a long time.” Looking down towards the floor, he knew exactly what she was referring to. Feeling like she had stabbed him directly in the heart- all he could do was try to cheer her up. He didn’t want her to runaway again. Not knowing if he would be able to find her this time.

“I’ve booked a room in the Crowne Plaza, we can order room service- have a talk. I’ve missed you, it’s always been you. I... I love you. I just needed you to know.”

Ignoring the love, she put her hand in to his- this unexpected gesture formed a smile on his face

“Come on, I’m starving!” Internally scolding herself- she believed that she could cope with food then escape.

Walking through the lobby, he suggested having a few drinks at the bar before they headed up to the room. One drink, turned into two, turned into three- before she knew it she was staring at another empty glass. The alcohol had gone straight to her head- but her mind was still able to function, wondering what made her think it was a good idea to meet him in the first place. Wondering what other people would think. “Fuck it. Fuck them.” She muttered to herself. “More, please.” She slurred to the barmaid.

“I think you need to slow down.. have you actually eaten today?”

“No I haven’t. Don’t tell me what to do, please. You suggested ordering food, before we came here instead.”

“Ri....”

“Please don’t Ri me... you know life if shit. It sucks. There’s hope that it’ll get better, some days it does.. then some days it doesn’t...”

“I’m sorry. Come on, finish that then let’s get the food that was promised.”

Making their way upstairs, Riley stumbled but had the strong arms around her- supporting her, no matter how much anger she still had towards him, she was grateful. Opening the door, he immediately rung for room service knowing that she needed some food, making her a coffee this would also sober her up.

“Here, you don’t want a stinking hangover.” Smirking at him, she didn’t care about the hangover- she worked nights so would have time to recover. Accepting the coffee, she slowly slipped it.

“Thank you.” There was a moment of silence, he sat next to her- holding her hand. She had no energy to force him off of her- instead she turned her head towards him. Cupping her cheeks, he lent closer towards her- kissing her in a long lingering kiss- her drunk mind craved more. His gaze focused on her as he broke the kiss away- would she slap him across the face? Or punch him? Standing up, she bit her lip- turning to face him once more she held his gaze. A smile formed on his alluring mouth- don’t fuck this up, he thought to himself on repeat.

“You. Me. A hotel. Like old times eh? Shall we start over? My names.....” she placed a finger over his lips, as she lent down towards him and eventually straddled him.

“I know what your name is you moron. We have slept together before.” Pushing her away, he wanted to touch her more than anything.

“Ri... I’m on a break with Liv. I know you are still in love with Drake. He is madly in love with you. I saw him before, we went for a beer...” Seeing the disappointment creep up onto her face, he was unsure if it was due to his rejection or the mention of his name.

“You just said that you loved me... that you wanted to talk about ‘us’...I’m sorry I was abrupt when you said it, you’ve healed me once with heartbreak....”

“Riley, I’ve always loved you- since Florida. If there was a chance for us, I’d snap it up right here right now. But you don’t love me. It was just sex with no strings remember.... Drake.. he’s in love with you- wants a future with you, I could see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice.”

“I’m actually meeting someone on route, but thanks. See ya around Walker.”

“What time are you meeting the mystery lady?” Leo turned around, why is he assuming that I’m meeting a woman? Looking down towards the flowers, they were a huge giveaway.

“I am meeting Riley at half eleven...” Drakes heart sunk, hearing her name- knowing she had arranged to meet up with Leo, and had ignored his texts. Leo noticed Drakes sudden heartbreak written across his face.

“I’ll let you get off, you don’t want to keep her waiting. Tell her that I’m thinking about her, and that I’ll always love her...” Sighing, Leo knew that Drake did love her- believing that it was now time to talk as civil adults to hear his side of the story regarding his past. Give him a chance to explain.

“Walker, wait. Half the time she isn’t punctual, I don’t even know if she will actually show up. Why don’t we go for a beer? And you can explain what’s in that bag.”

Arriving at the Hard Rock Cafe, Leo wanted to be close to where he was meeting Riley incase he lost track of time then he could sprint to the location. Ordering them both a beer, Drake thanked him- not knowing how it was going to escalate. All he kept thinking about was Riley, as he had done ever since she had runaway from Texas.

“Is Riley okay?” Talking about the common factor between the two of them, he assumed it would break the awkward silence.

“Not really. Only had a few simple one worded texts off of her. You know when she left New York, there was only me who took time to try and find her. Spending that week with her, I fell in love with her every second I spent with her. At the time, I believed it was because we had been hurt by the same people. When you came on the scene, I knew that she was instantly attracted to you. So I never told her the truth. Why did you have to hurt her? She deserves happiness, she is the most caring person I’ve known- and every man she has been involved with has hurt her...”

“Leo, I love her too. She was carrying my baby- I didn’t want her to do that decision that she chose to. The woman that I was engaged to, it wasn’t love from my end. I agreed to the arrangement to help my family. Kiara’s father is rich, she had always told me that she loved me- she was suffocating- she stalked me everywhere. He offered to pay my family’s debts, to ensure that they kept their home- if I married her. I’d never fallen in love with any girl, so I thought why not? I believed that I would possibly fall in love with her eventually. But it just got worse as time went by. I broke off the engagement, I didn’t really care about the consequences and came here. Started a new life, made new friends- I thought I’d found the love of my life. I didn’t want to hurt her.” Leo sipped the beer, slowly- Drakes words slowly sinking in. They were both in love with the same woman- Leo was also in love with another. Olivia had realised that their was much more to his relationship with Riley- so they both agreed to have a break.

“So what’s in the bag then?” Drake nervously, took out the two boxes.

“If and when Riley ever spoke to me again, I thought I’d treat her, as an apology for the misunderstanding- the lack of communication from my end.” Opening the first box, there was a gold bracelet. Fuck me, I need to get a new job if he can afford things like that.

“This, this is a ring I sort of designed- a personal touch. My grandmother would be turning in her grave in she knew what I’ve done...” Explaining to Leo that he had the diamonds from his grandmothers ring removed and cleaned- the jewellery store added them to a band with a few extra diamonds. “Was you planning on proposing to her?”

“In the future, yes. But it all doesn’t matter anymore. She won’t respond to my texts or calls.”

“She’s a stubborn mofo. Can you love her more than I can?” Leo asked, Drake was confused by this question- not knowing if he knew the answer.

Leo reiterated what had happened when he had seen Drake, missing out the personal detail regarding the gifts as well as the future plans of a proposal.

“By the sounds of it, this Kiara is in love with him but he never loved her. He agreed to the proposal to help his family. He ended the engagement and moved here. When I bumped in to him, he had been somewhere to get you a gift. You need to talk to him...I’m always going to be here, I’m always going to protect you and love you.” Pulling her down towards him, he pressed his lips onto hers- the rest of his words that he was going to say were now lost against her mouth. He kissed her softly, his heart wanted more even after all this time. Breaking, the kiss, he stood up abruptly - leaving Riley confused with his actions.

And hold me while you wait

I wish that I was good enough (hold me while you wait)

If only I could wake you up (hold me while you wait)

My love, my love, my love, my love

Won't you stay a while? (Hold me while you wait)

I wish you'd cared a little more (hold me while you wait)

“Where are you going?”

Holding her in a tight hug, he stayed there a while- knowing there was no future for the two of them, not yet anyway. He was happy for her if Drake was the one. At this moment in time, all he wanted to do was hug her- but had something to do before they said goodbye.

“I’ll be back in a minute....”

......

Leo had been gone longer than a minute, Riley began picking at the food that he had ordered them. Sobering up gradually, she wasn’t sure if it was due to boredom or the food. Hearing the door open, she wanted to inform him that she was madly in love with Drake and apologise for allowing the kiss to happen.

“You said you’d be a minute, I know you flunked math but come on Leo. Surely know how to tell the time.... oh... Drake...”

“He flunked math? He said he was a smart ass at school, just wait until I see him...”

“How are you?” Changing the subject, she didn’t know what else to say- knowing the reason why Leo was longer than he said, she was sure this was his way of getting them both to talk.

“Better than you by the looks of it. You’re going to have a stinking hangover in the morning.”

“Leo said exactly those words too... alcohol is good for healing heartbreak....I just wish that you’d have warned me about your past before we went to your moms...” kneeling down beside her, he had hoped that he could talk to her openly- Leo had given them both this chance. Giving up his own happiness, to try and get them both together. Walker, go into the room- grab your girl. If you hurt her again- I’ll kill ya. Don’t let me down- prove that you can love her more than I could.

“I wish that I did, I didn’t tell you because it was over. That is the reason I left Texas...”

“I know, Leo told me.”

“I’m so sorry that you found out the way you did. If I believed it was going to cause problems, I’d have told you straight away. I didn’t want to lose you...I went back to Texas, I told them straight...”

“You don’t have to explain...”

“But I do. They were awful to you. It’s all my fault.” Seeing tears creep into his face, she stood up and led him over towards the bed. Sitting beside him, her eyes were beginning to leak too.

“Drake.. don’t cry please. People treat me like shit, I’m used to it.. I’m going to take it to my grave.” Shrugging her shoulders, she decided to make a joke out of her life- laughing, she wiped the tears away from his cheeks. “Can you take something else to your grave?” Riley was confused, Drake held both of her hands. Looking into her eyes, he would fight to win her back no matter how long it would take him. “I love you, can you please take my words to your grave with you. I know you probably don’t believe me- but I’m being honest. It will always be you. I’m going to go home. Enjoy your night with Leo...” Feeling as if she was some type of virus, that people were avoiding- she wasn’t going to allow another man to leave her without any explanation.

“Drake, don’t go...”

“Why?”

“I... I’ve.. for fuck sake Drake, I’ve missed you... I’m sorry I’ve ignored you.”

“I’ve missed you too, you’re the first and last thought of my day... I don’t blame you, but I wish you’d have talked to me.”

“You should know me by now, I get a thrill out of running away from my problems.”

“I better get you some baby reins then? Keep you close to me... I mean close to us... I mean... fuck. It was a joke, Ri. Just ignore me...”

“I wouldn’t mind being close to you...”

“I wouldn’t mind you being close to me Miss Brooks...” closing the distance between the two of them, he tilt her chin upwards- brushing his thumb over her lips, she closed her eyes. Leaning down, he gently placed his lips on to hers.

“Ri, I want you in my arms again. So much. But you’ve been drinking, I’ve had a couple...” she gazed at him, with her sparkling baby blues.

“Leo got me a coffee and food, I’ve sobered up a bit.” Looking at her with a sorrowful expression, she shook her head. “What the fuck do you want from me Drake?”

“I wanted you! I’ve always wanted you. You keep fucking shutting me out. I can’t do anything right with you can I?”

“Maybe you should have fucking warned me about an ex fiancée and the psychotic family that you have!”

“Maybe you should have fucking spoken to me rather than fuck off! We had sex, then poof you’re gone. As you always fucking do. You’re not the only one who’s fucking broken, Riley!”

“Oh yeah. Why are you broken Drake? Have you got a psychotic ex who raped you? Have you been attacked verbally by your boyfriends fucking family? Do you have people criticise you for what you do for a living?”

“I’m broken because the woman I love keeps shutting me out- but goes for a lunch date with the man who raped her, then drops the charges. Oh and she chose to kill my baby!”

“It wasn’t a fucking date! It was a quick lunch. Where he actually confessed what he did. I would never forgive him. I did what I thought was right about the baby- and everyday that goes by is proving that it was the right decision. You’re a fucking jerk. I’m going.” Grabbing her wrist, not allowing her to leave- he felt awful for the words that had been exchanged. Pinning her arm against the wall, no words were spoken- instead their facial expressions had a silent argument.

“You’re a fucking stubborn bitch, Riley Brooks.” Feeling his hot beer infused breath linger on her - she had also regretted the way she had spoken to him. All the anger let out in a full rage. Drakes mouth descended onto hers; not gently- but passionately and demanding. Both giving into the temptation, the desire that they had both been craving for weeks. His tongue brushed against her lower lip- waiting for permission to enter- both their tongues battled and curled around each other. Breaking the kiss, he rest his forehead against hers- still holding her wrist pinning her arm against the wall- he moved his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers.

“I’m sorry, Ri. I didn’t mean to say all of that...”

“I’m sorry too.” Leaning forward to kiss her neck, he released her arm which immediately went around his waist pulling him flush to her. Feeling like she was melting away with every touch he made along her neck and shoulders- she placed her hand under his shirt, feeling his toned body. Wanting to do more than feel- she was eager to see him, even though she was stubborn to ignore him for weeks she had deep down missed him. Removing his jacket and shirt in an urgent manner after feeling her touch his bare skin, he wanted to give her more access. Noticing her baby blues fixated towards his bulge- he gulped as her delicate fingers fumbled with his zipper and pulled it down- carefully pulling his manhood free from his boxers.

Her fingers wrapped around his cock, instantly they began sliding up and down over the tip of his shaft while her thumb circled his cock head. He instantly had a full erection, it wasn’t only he that had missed her. “Ri...”

“Shhh...” her eyes searched his, as she continued to rub him- smiling softly at him as he let out a low growl. “I’m close...” feeling the sensation of pleasure pour out of him- he arched his back as he orgasmed, Riley kept her eyes locked onto his as the hot sperm exploded into her hand.

“I’m sorry...” Referring to the mess in her in hands, he wished that he didn’t allow her to touch him like that.

“Don’t be, I instigated it.” Smiling at him, she made her way to the bathroom. Hearing the tap, he didn’t know what to do- watching his cock deflate like a popped balloon, he decided to put it away after quickly wiping it with a serviette. Sitting on the bed, he checked his phone quickly.

Well you haven’t begged to meet me. I assume it’s going well?

Sort of.

What you mean sort of?

It started off well, all the miss you’s- then we insulted each other.....

Oh fuck. Then what?

Then she jerked me off.

And I assume you are going to continue? Like, fuck her senseless? If not, I can do it. 🤔

No Leo. I’m not called you. If we have sex, it’s making up sex- not just a fuck. I appreciate what you’ve given up, for me. For her. I promise I’m not going to hurt her, and I’ll repay you somehow.

Don’t worry about it. Myself and Riley would have never worked out. Maybe I should have told her before? I’m happy for you both. If I get charged for your cum stains, you better cough up Walker. 😆

Leo, I don’t know what’s happening. I’ll pay you the money that you paid for the room. Deal?

Deal. Enjoy 😉

“Drake? Are you okay?" Asking as she returned from the bathroom - her blue eyes twinkling as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him.

Drake coming back to his senses, held her in his arms- wondering what was next for them. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for ... you know...”

“You don’t need to thank me. I feel like I owe you more than a hand job, the way I ran out on you. The way I’ve ignored you.”

“You don’t owe me anything...”

Laying backwards, the soft feeling of her body pressed against his bare chest as she rest on him providing deep passionate kisses. Almost like deja vu, she sat up- releasing his cock again.

While her tongue slid all over the sensitive skin of his shaft, he drank in the sight of her - not knowing why he was allowing her to pleasure him yet again. Sucking the head of his cock between her soft lips, she began to run her tongue around the tip- looking up at him with those beautiful eyes of hers. Feeling the warm blood rushing to fill his rapidly growing member- it wasn’t deflated anymore. Drake quickly slipped from beneath her and rolled himself on to her before she had a chance to react. She was pinned lying on her back, as his dick nestled in between her legs.

“Drake? What the fuck?" Kissing her lips, his hands cupped her breasts- the fabric of her dress being a burden he wished that he could touch her bare skin.

“I want you to fuck me" she whispered close to his lips- smelling the strong scent of alcohol lingering on her breath he was in a dilemma. She seemed sober, sober enough to consent.

“I need you to be sure Ri. I want you to be sure. I don’t know what’s going on between us- I don’t know if you want what I want?”

This is you, this is me, this is all we need

Is it true? My faith is shaken, but I still believe

This is you, this is me, this is all we need

So won't you stay a while?

“I want you Drake, please... even if it’s just for tonight...” Just for tonight? I want you forever. Standing up, he discarded the remainder of his clothes- Riley stood up and did the same before laying back on the bed. Not wanting to jump straight into sex, as she asked for, he laid next to her- feeling her soft hands gently pumping up and down his member.

"Do you want this Drake?" Riley asked insistently. Nodding, she threw a leg over his body and began straddling him. Resting her hips on his thighs - her hand still rubbed his cock head, she was his drug- he was addicted, every touch made him want to cum again. Lifting her hips up, she guided him to her wet entrance. Placing her hands on to his chest, she slowly sunk her hips down, allowing for his cock to enter through the tightness of her sex.

"Oh Riley, I’ve missed you..." Drake barely moaned- watching her lift her body up, allowing his cock to slide almost out of her then settle back down.

“I’ve missed you too- I forgot how this felt... with you...." she moaned as his cock plunged back into her as she slid back down. Drake didn’t want her to do all the work, he couldn't resist anymore and forced his hips upwards, driving the last few inches of him into her warm walls.

She had asked for this and Drake was going to give it to her- not knowing what would happen afterwards, but he didn’t care at this moment in time. He was in a trance with her being so close to him again. Reaching his hands up, he cupped her breasts- tweaking at the buds whilst rapidly thrusting his hips up and down. "Oh my god. Yes... oh Drake..." Riley couldn’t contain her moans escaping from her lips, attempting to match his rhythm - she failed miserably. Leaning forward, she was practically laid on his chest as he continued thrusting inside of her.

“Cum for me baby...” He practically begged through gritted teeth.

“I am Drake... Yes!" she moaned. This encouragement, as well as the sudden trickle of her juices made his speed increase not knowing if he could go any faster. The orgasm was so strong that Drake felt her insides slowly contracting back and forth around him. Forcing her off of him, he slipped out- he was ready to cum but wanted to give her something. Spreading her legs, he licked up and down the length of her folds. Sucking her clit between his lips- flicking his tongue eagerly over the top of her pleasure spot- she screamed, unable to remain silent.

Removing his lips and tongue, Drake slowly made his way up her body- lining himself up the full length of his cock plunged into her- causing her back to arch as he resumed to penetrate her. Feeling the pleasure of his own orgasm building up inside of him- knowing he was close, he held onto her breasts as his load of warm cum shot up inside of her. His hands remained on her body as he continued to twitch inside of her.

“Is that what you wanted?” Drake asked sarcastically, as he removed himself out of her and laid next to her. Feeling as if he had ran a marathon with the rhythm of his breathing- he held her hand.

“Didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.”

“Well then.” Smiling softly at him, she rest her head onto his chest.

The morning after, Riley woke up before Drake- their limbs entangled together. They had sex a few more times, each time became more passionate. Not knowing how to feel about the previous night- she was unsure what it was. Was it another ‘one night stand’ between the two of them? Was it a move that would initiate their relationship again? Uncertainty ran through her mind. Regretting not using protection, even though she would be to blame with the persistence she had. Kissing him on the forehead, she got dressed- writing him a note on a serviette.

Drake, thank you for last night. I’ve got things to do, I’ll text you. Ri xo

Afraid that he may believe that it was a mistake, she knew it was best to just leave without saying a word.

******

“Drake? Say something. Please... you said more when you believed that the baby was Liam’s..”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve done this to you again...”

“It’s takes two to tango... do you want this baby?” Placing his hand over her stomach, he remained silent for a few seconds. Keeping his hand there, he looked up to face her.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Ri. I wanted to keep the other one... “ Standing up, he helped her up- Pulling her into his embrace a smile finally crept onto his face.

“Shit Bertrand still has the test.... he’s holding my piss...” Laughing at her random comment, brought him out of his thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it. Bartie pissed and puked all down him yesterday...”

“Ah, so that’s why he wasn’t in his usual vest top attire when he came to see me... Drake, I was drunk that night in the hotel room before you arrived as you know. I was heartbroken still, I was ready to sleep with Leo- but he pushed me away.... he told me...”

“He told you that he loved you...” Riley nodded, feeling guilty- feeling like a slut giving herself to her friend that loved her more than a friend.

“If you feel the same about him, I want you to be happy. I’ll still support you with our baby...”

“Drake, I’ve slept with Leo and Maxwell in the past. Friends with benefits, with Max we was so drunk we cringed about it the morning after... I love them both, but the love is best friend love. I want to be with the father of my children. I love you, it broke my heart when I believed that you was engaged- I felt like a hypocrite, I felt like I did exactly what Madeleine did to me...”

“I love you too. Children? You mean child. We can work through this Ri.. move in with me and Max... quit work... I promised you that I’d look after you before and I am going to keep that promise...”

“I don’t want to quit work, I enjoy it. Gill has looked after me, she treats me well. Those weeks after we slept together, I spent a lot of time with her, she convinced me to talk to you- I don’t know why I avoided you? I can’t just leave her in the shit...”

“Ri, we are having a baby. A second chance for the both of us. I want us to live together, bring it up together... I want us to be a family...”

“Have you forgotten about Maxwell?”

“He won’t mind, until we get on our feet we can both live there... please. We will go back inside and tell him.”

****

Walking back inside, Drake placed his hand into hers- feeling nervous, in a way she was glad that Bertrand was persistent with her taking the test. However, she dread what the outcome from other people would be, especially Bianca and Leona.

“Sav, Mom, Aunt Leona...” Drake shouted for his family to come towards them. Praying that they would accept the news and welcome Riley into the family. “Please no, don’t force me to talk to them.” She whispered, as her body began to tremble.

“Ri, you’re family now. If they don’t like it, they can fuck themselves. They will never see this baby if they treat you any different.” Gulping, she felt her hands become more clammy- her heart was practically jumping out of her chest.

“Myself and Riley have some news... we are having a baby.” Kissing her on the cheek, his hand lingered over her stomach. Bianca could now tell how happy her son was, he loved this girl. If there was a second chance at happiness, she was going to support her son and grandchild as she was doing with her daughter.

“I’m so happy for you both. Congratulations..”

“Riley, Drake was a nightmare as baby- just to warn you. He kept Bianca and Jackson up all night... you better get your sleep in now...”

“I’m going to be an Auntie. Bartie is going to have a cousin. Welcome to the family, Riley.” Savannah was beaming, knowing how upset her brother had been. Pulling the two of them in for a hug, Riley felt more at ease with the comments- only for a brief second.

“Welcome to the family? There’s a chance that the baby could be mine!”

“Liam, the baby isn’t yours. Can you leave my family alone?” Forcing Riley behind him, he was ready for a stand off with his old friend- someone who had turned into his arch-enemy overnight.

“She was mine before you Drake... we both have had sex with her.”

“You raped me!”

“He did what?” Drake gulped, he didn’t tell his family regarding the abuse she had received from Liam and Rita. It was none of their business, but now Bianca had questioned this he was unsure about how it was going to elaborate.

“Liam and my old boss, drugged me and then he raped me..”

“Why isn’t he in prison?” Anger was now building through Bianca’s veins, knowing why Drake was so protective over her.

“I dropped the charges, he has a daughter to provide for...”

“Listen Mr Rhys, stay away from my son and daughter in law.” Everyone came over hearing the altercation, all providing the Walkers with support.

“Leo, back me up. We’re brothers.” Leo wrapped his arms around Riley’s waist, kissing her on the cheek.

“The minute you hurt Riley all those years ago, you lost me as your brother. I’ll be fighting for custody over Alice if you carry on causing trouble for everyone...” Liam looked at everyone who was scowling at him, knowing he wasn’t going to win this debate but he wasn’t ready to let it go without a fight.

“This isn’t over Riley. I am not having another man bring up my child. I am paying for you to have a DNA test before that baby is born. Do not try to stop me!” Storming off, Riley’s body began to shake- she was an emotional wreck, Leo attempted to comfort her but knew she needed Drake.

“I don’t need a DNA test, I know that you’re the father... It could harm the baby or I could miscarry. I can’t lose another baby.” Resting her head, in the crook of his neck- he held her attentively. Wishing that Liam would back off, he was appreciative that everyone had stuck by him, Riley and his family.

“You’re not going to. You have all of us, he can’t force you to do anything.” Bianca looked at her son, placing the item in his pocket- she smiled softly, hoping that he would understand the reasoning why.

#trr #trr fanfic #trr au one temptation #drake x riley #liam x riley #maxwell x riley #leo x riley #drake walker #liam rhys #leo rhys #maxwell beaumont #riley brooks #bianca walker #savannah walker #bertrand beaumont

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failing-to-write-again · 6 years ago

Text

Germany x Ireland!Reader: Snow Storms and Confessions

Ok so the plan was to post another scenario and write two more yesterday. But Tumblr did an oopsie and deleted everything.

Every cloud has a silver lining however, my friend sent me this gem of a find and all I could think about afterwards was this story. I was going to write them as scenarios but I found it difficult to imagine situations for the other characters.

So here's a different story. A one shot...goody.

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

*Ireland's POV*

I sat there cold and alone in the Russian airport terminal. My flight cancelled due to the violent snow storm outside and no hotel room to go to. All the other countries had already left, the usual flights to Ireland weren't available. Just one at 10pm when a blizzard was due. Russia didn't exactly give a direct response when I brought it up...

*flash back*

"Little Ireland! You are feisty small one, you're lack of fear is amusing."

"I'm not being feisty I just want to know why there's none of the usual planes to my country. I don't want to end up caught in the blizzard"

"Она умн��е, чем выглядит...I don't involve myself petty plane issues. Perhaps this is fate, you believe in a lot of those magical fairy tales no?"

she's smarter then she looks

"Она также говорит по-русски. Что ты прячешь?"

she also speaks Russian. What are you hiding?

*flash forward to present*

Just before I could pry, Germany got the meeting started and I was left to get to my seat and ponder over Russia's behaviour. He's a strange study for sure.

Germany was as well. We became properly acquainted in the early 1900s only labelling ourselves as friends around the 70s when I joined the early version of the EU (then EEC). He definitely is a layered character, and even though he is sweet once I became closer with him, he seems to still be hiding aspects of his personality. But enough about that I'm cold and have to figure out where I'll sleep tonight.

"Ireland? Vhat are jou doing here?"

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive...

"Hey Germy, my flight got cancelled and it was the only one available, my hotel booking also ran out so I'm just sorta stuck here haha."

A rather enjoyable shade of red spread across his face at the mention of the nickname. I'd do anything to see those little cracks in his tightly woven character. Anything to see the little smiles or chuckles, the crush I'd developed over years of friendship pushing me to.

"V...Vell mein flight vas cancelled as vell...vould you like to share a hotel room vith me? I still have an extra day."

Panic.

"I wouldn't be against it, but you probably would like to not share a room so I understand if you don't want to and everything. Thanks for the offer though"

"Nein it's fine I don't mind ve're friends ja? It's ok!"

The air is so fucking uncomfortable. Big brother France is looking on in disappointed from Paris. I just know it. After a few more rounds of pitiful back and forth we agreed we both were ok with sharing a room and set off, chittering throughout the walk.

*[insert timeskip joke] Germany's POV*

Ireland was in the bathroom getting ready for bed as I sat mentally preparing to sleep beside her.

At some point my feelings of friendship began to be replaced with... love as Italy put it. I thought I was ill whenever my heart would flutter like a manly butterfly near her. After voicing my concerns to my brother and Italy, bruder proceeded to have a laughing fit. Italy took the time to gush about love long enough for me to come to the conclusion I was in it.

Ireland. She's not perfect by any means and we've had our fair share of arguments and disagreements. Though we always manage to work then out. Would it be the same if we were dating? I would be living in a dream if that was true...

The door opened and in she came. In the shorts she wore for sleep her false leg was on full display. I remember helping her make it, replacing the standard wooden one for a metal one with upgrades bring added whenever we visited eachother or were together in our free time from longer summits. The leg, essentially fully functional due to her use of spells and my use of metal. Light blue swirls, famous for their use in her history giving off a slight hum in the dark room, dancing up and down the metal limb. Gott she was an angel.

"That meeting left me a wreck." She stifled a yawn, lowering herself slowly to the bed beside me. The blue began to fade slowly as she stopped using magic, bleeding up her leg until disappearing once it reached the end of the metal at her upper thigh. "How does it vork?" I lowly hummed.

"The magic I use to move the leg? It's a weird mix of electricity and telekinesis. I use the electricity to stimulate the metal wires and pistons you put into it and use the telekinesis to make it move in a more natural way. I just wish it didn't glow, it makes it impossible to hide"

Hide? Why hide it? It's beautiful...is it inappropriate to say that out loud? I settle on a less invasive response.

"Why hide it? The blue looks like the tattoo you always joke about getting?"

She went quiet did I go to far? No she always said when I went too far same as I always did if our discussions on my...past got too vivid...She continued.

"When I lost my leg, I lost a part of myself. The image of the country who would fight anyone to be free, that had the confidence of countries ten times her size, it was gone. I kept up the act in letters and statements acting like the leg didn't phase me...Then I got to finally see my siblings again. None of them were allowed near me after one of my attempts for freeedom out of fear I'd help them escape or convince England to go rogue against his boss. They watched me struggle to do anything, they watched me have to ask for help to move, they watched me weak. It's been hard adjusting...then..."

She took a deep breath and looked up. Something she often did when trying not to cry. I gently lay a hand on her back and put on the calmest voice I could.

"Then vhat? Take jour time, I know it's difficult, but please tell me vhat happened?"

"I met someone. They helped me without even realising it. They slowly built up my confidence in myself, taught me how to laugh and smile like I used to. Obviously my family helped but the help from this person stuck with me more I suppose. He built me up, tried to help when he didn't have to."

He. My world slowly shattered and fell around me. So she has somebody else. Someone better. Someone who can show her all the love they probably expect being raised by someone like France and England.

"Oh...vill jou tell me more about him?"

She let a slow smile spread across her face.

"He's kind and sweet but covers it over with a stiff outer shell. He has many talents...so many talents. He's amazing really, but one thing in particular is what I think made me fall for him."

"Vhat vas it? That he did"

I was probing. I was pushing too far into her private life. If she never spoke about him in all our years of friendship, she had a reason not to. She's a damn ex-spy and rebel leader she knows how much to trust people. But...I didn't care. I wanted to know. Needed to. I had loved her for years only for her to slip away the moment I had started working to con-

"He built me a new leg. Then he called it pretty and sleek and said he liked the blue the magic made on it."

Oh...this was...not what I expected. I was the one who built the leg...she knows that...she...she...

"Ireland I..."

I slowly pulled her gently, she was straddling me so I could look into her eyes.

"Do jou really. But vhat I've done. How could jou?"

"Fall for a lovable human being? It's rather simple. I'm just hoping you'll give this amputee a chance."

She looked at me hopefully through her eye lashes. At that moment I realised why us Germans aren't seen as great romantics. We're better at doing, not speaking. So do I did.

I kissed her. Pouring every piece of emotion I felt for her, because of her into it. Desperately trying to show her how much I cared regardless of how bad I'd be at saying it. And it was bliss. My pulse was racing faster then any of my, no Germany's, F1 cars.

She was with me, not my country, not my people, ME. And I'm going to be selfish.

Her soft warm lips, pushing against my colder ones. Tasting like that brand of chocolate she loves mixed with the minty taste of toothpaste. Her arms, laying around me neck, playing with the hairs on the back of my head. My arms, pulling her closer filling every gap between us I could find. I was in heaven, kissing an angel, and I wasn't going to give it up for anything. The entire world could be damned so long as she was in my arms. Everything Italy, France, Spain, Bruder, and all the other countries preached about love suddenly clicked. I loved her. I never wanted to leave her side. I wanted to be her hero, her Ritter (knight), her lover.

And by the way she was kissing back she wanted to be mine.

*POV switch*

HOLY FUCKING SHIT HE'S KISSING ME!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT I'M KISSING HIM!

AAAHHHHHHHH!!!

I barely thought of anything else, all I could focus on was getting drunk off his kisses. He was kissing me like the world was ending and I loved it.

At some point it went from me in his lap to beneath him on the bed, staring into icy blue eyes.

"vell..." He drawled "ve have a hotel room, a snow storm. no ozher countries on zhis floor, or anyvone for that matter until tomorrow. and a very horny country. vhat do jou suppose ve do Ms.Ireland?"

I spoke before my mind could think. "Well Mr.Germany. A second, equally as horny country is beneath you so the real question is...Was wirst du dagegen tun?

What are you going to do about it?

Snap.

"Ich heiße nicht deutschland Ich heiße ludvig" he growls out. Responds very well to German if the kisses are any proof.

My name isn't Germany. My name is Ludwig

I leant up to whisper in his ear..."Es ist gut zu wissen, was ich später schreien werde. Ich bin (Y/N)."

It's good to know what I'll be screaming later. I'm (Y/N).

I hear a growl before my hands are held above my head with kisses attacking my neck...If this was Russia's plan for only having only one flight home then he's getting cookies next meeting.

*both POV*

Thank God/Gott for snow storms.

#germany hetalia #hetalia #hetalia one shots #germany x reader #ludwig beilschmidt #1p Germany #doitsu

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benreillyscarletspider · 5 years ago

Text

Red Dwarf Series One Starter Sentences

“Have you ever been hit over the head with a welding mallet?”

“The only reason they don't give this job to the service robots is they've got a better union than us.”

“You touch that guitar, [name], I'll remove the E string and garrote you with it.”

“ Can I do anything? Is it OK if I breathe? Can I breathe?”

“This is not cheating! It's merely an aid to memory. Helps me marshal the facts already in my command.”

“What does this mean? What does any of it mean? I've covered my body in complete and utter and total absolute nonsense gibberish!”

“Although you exist, you no longer exist in time, and, for you, time itself does not exist. You see, although you're still a mass, you are no longer an event in space-time; you are a non-event mass with a quantum probability of zero.”

“I've been on my own for three million years, and I'm just used to saying what I think. I think I've gone a bit peculiar, to tell you the truth.”

“ Never again will I be able to brush a rose against my cheek, cradle a laughing child, or interfere with a woman sexually.”

“Lots of people have died. Lots of people have died and then gone on and done really, really well.”

“I know it's wrong of me to speak ill of the dead and all that, but you're still a smeghead.”

“Looking nice. No, wait a minute. I'm looking better than nice. I'm looking dangerous.”

“He's your father? No wonder you're so ugly.”

“You are how you look, and I look like a complete and total tit!”

“Switch me on, switch me off, like I'm some battery-powered sex aid.”

“Death isn't the handicap it used to be in the olden days. It doesn't screw your career up like it used to.”

“It's gonna take 4000 years just to turn around. You can't do a three point turn when you're this close to lightspeed, you know.”

“You'll be in your element if insects are in control.You'll probably get a decent job at last.”

“Oh, just because I'm a toaster, I'm tone deaf?”

“Watch my lips. What ... is ... hap ... pening?”

“Hey, it hasn't happened, has it? It has ‘will have going to have happened' happened, but it hasn't actually 'happened' happened yet, actually.”

“It will be happened; it shall be going to be happening; it will be was an event that could will have been taken place in the future. Simple as that.”

“You know, I wish I was someone else. Then I could kiss me.”

“It's not fair. There's loads of things I've never done. Like... I've never had a prawn vindaloo. And I've never read... A book. And I wanted to have a family. And I wanted to have loads of practice in the things that you've got to do to get a family.”

“You can't whack death on the head!”

“ If he comes near me, I'm gonna rip his nipples off!”

“Yeah, well, everyone dies. You're born, and you die. The bit in the middle's called life, and that's still to come!”

“That woman's out of your league. She's just too classy for you.”

“I'm looking nice. My hair is nice. My face is nice. My suit is nice. I'm looking really nice!”

“You really must think I'm stupid. I'll deal with you two later.”

“You've got the brains of diarrhea and the breeding of a maggot.”

“I laughed so hard I nearly puked.”

“Of course you're tense, you rectum-faced pygmy!”

“Well, we'll give him ten seconds to come back from the dead, and, if he hasn't managed it, we'll presume I'm in charge.”

“If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well. If it's not worth doing, give it to [Name].”

“It's obviously beyond me. I've got more teeth than brain cells, remember?”

“What's the point of buying a toaster with artificial intelligence if you don't like toast?”

“My mind is open to new cultures, and new ways of looking at and doing things.”

“There's nobody out there. No alien monsters, no Zargon warships, no beautiful blondes with beehive hairdos who say 'Show me some more of this Earth thing called kissing.’.”

“If there's no one out there, what's the point in existence? Why are we here?”

“Smooth with a capital SMOO.”

“Hey, you monkeys are smarter than I thought.”

“I just don't know why I bother. I'd get more sense out of a squashed hedgehog.”

“Six breasts!? Imagine making love to a woman with six breasts!”

“Imagine making love to a woman!”

“This is terrible. Holy wars. Killing. They're just using religion as an excuse to be extremely crappy to each other.”

“I'm not a god! I've just been... Misquoted.”

“That's a fearsome hat.”

“I renounced coolness, and chose the righteous path of slobbiness.”

“But, as one by one we died, my faith died also.”

“I was thinking it might help pass the time if I created a perfectly functioning replica of a woman, capable of independent decision-making and abstract thought and absolutely undetectable from the real thing.”

“It must mean something. You don't dream about someone that you don't feel something for.”

“I once had a dream about a baboon but that doesn't mean I want to go to bed with it.”

“I happen to agree with their philosophy that love is a sickness that holds back your career and makes you want to spend all your money.”

“Love is a device invented by bank managers to make us overdrawn.”

“What makes us different from animals is we don't use our tongues to clean our own genitals.”

“Hey, this has been a good day. I've eaten five times, I've slept six times, and I've made a lot of things mine.Tomorrow, I'm gonna see if I can't have sex with something.”

“If you weren't my friend, I'd steal your shoes.”

“No, you're a filthy, stinking, loathsome,disgusting object I wouldn't be seen dead with in a plague pit.”

“I just love that accent. It makes me go all wibbly!”

“Bet you've got a terminal disease.Always happens to the people who least expect it.”

“Forget those losers. Let's go party.”

“Oh, he's drunk. Yes. I can smell it from here.”

“Ding dong! Another great idea from the people who brought you beer milkshakes!”

“Why should she be interested in you?”

“Yeah, why should she be interested in me?”

“You're great! You're an incredibly seductive, charming, charismatic, young stud!”

“You've got a body like a coat hanger! How can you make a spacesuit look like evening wear?”

“In space, no one can hear you cha-cha-cha!”

“He didn't suffer! I just fed him into the waste grinder and flushed his bits into space.”

“Who told you you needed oxygen, huh? Some loser who was trying to make you feel small.”

“Look, if she comes back and she's not interested, I can handle it.”

“A-ha! The Pop-Up Kama Sutra - Zero Gravity Edition!”

“My death is one of the most important things that ever happened to me.”

“Are you saying you never became an officer because you shared your quarters with someone who hummed?”

“Hey, I'm looking so good today! If I looked any better, I'd be illegal!”

“I am feeling very, very sexy!”

“Sensual emergency! Good lovin' needed bad!”

“I'm far, far, far too much of a gentleman to stoop to that kind of shower-room mentality.”

“Well, I'm sorry I didn't have time to sit down and bash out a speech in iambic pentameter. I was hit in the face by an atomic explosion.”

“SHUT UP, YA DEAD GIT!”

“STOP YOUR FOUL WHINING, YA FILTHY PIECE OF DISTENDED RECTUM!”

“Nothing major. But it goes without saying: IT WAS HIS FAULT!”

“Will you two guys just grow up?”

“ This can't go on. One of youse has gotta go.”

“Ippy-dippy, my space shippy, on a course so true; past Neptune and Pluto's moon, the one I choose is you.”

“I don't believe it. I've been ippy-dippied to death.”

“There's precious little entertainment on this ship. I mean, if you can't attend the odd execution, what have you got left?”

“I thought they were laughing at the chef, when all the time,they were laughing at me as I ate my piping hot gazpacho soup!”

#memes #starters #starter sentences #rp memes #rp starters #okay to reblog

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years ago

Text

Give me a word that rhymes with your first name: Bethany. If you were in a band, which instrument would you like to play in it? I can’t play any instruments. :/ If I wasn’t an idiot I would have kept up with piano, but noooo. Which do you find more intriguing: the past or the future? Well, I spend a lot of time dwelling on the past that’s for sure. You’d think the future would be, but it actually terrifies me. How did you find out exactly where it is that babies come from? My mom told me. I don’t remember exactly when we had the convo or how it went, but yeah. Who, in your opinion, is the most gorgeous person on Earth? Alexander Skarsgard. ha.

Did you wake up to a text from anybody today? I haven’t gone to bed, yet. I doubt I’ll have any texts when I wake up, though. Describe your perfect 3-course dinner: (starter, main, desert and drink) Starter: Perhaps a pasta salad. I love this asiago pasta I get from my store’s deli. Main: Garlic Parmesan boneless wings. Desert: Cheesecake. Drink: Coffee. Do you find parodies of songs funny? I don’t listen to any anymore. I used to listen to Weird Al Yancovic back in the day. What is your favourite song by Lady Gaga? I like Applause, Bad Romance, Do What U Want (ugh, minus he who shall not be named), and Million Reasons. If you could have any pet in the world, what would you have? I love having a doggo. <33 What’s a combination of two colours that you like? I love pastels together. Are you a good speller? I believe so. This or That Blondes or brunettes? Apples or oranges? Stay in or go out? Day or night? Alcoholic or non-alcoholic? Tea or coffee? Comedy or drama? Television or computer? Kiss or hug? Colour or black and white? Darwinism or creationism? Right wing or left wing? Silence or noise? Texting or calling? True or False? I am a male. I like dance music. I have brown eyes. It’s the summer. I am single. I love my friends. <<< (I don’t have any friends) I threw up last time I was drunk. I miss somebody right now. I think a lot before I go to sleep. The only thing I seem to do is eat. I think that war is a terrible thing. <<< (I don’t think anyone thinks it’s great) There is a certain celebrity I find very attractive. I have taken a bus in the past week. You: What’s your full name? Stephanie. What’s your date of birth? July 28th. What colour is your hair? Naturally dark brown, but I dye it red. What colour are your eyes? Brown. In which city do you live? I don’t like sharing that. Do you have any siblings? I have 2 brothers. Do you get on with your parents? Yes. My mom and I are very close, she’s my best friend. How tall are you? Like 5′4. Do you currently have a job? No. Are you overweight, underweight or neither? Underweight. Describe a typical outfit you’d wear: Leggings and a graphic tee. What are your interests? Spending time with my family, Tumblr, doing surveys, checking social media, watching YouTube, watching TV, listening to music, reading, coloring... Do you have any hobbies? ^^ Why are you taking this survey? Why not. Can you… …draw? …dance? …sing? …read? …write? …fight? …tie a knot in a cherry stick? …make people laugh easily? …play any instruments? …hide your feelings well? <<< Not as well anymore, though... …hold back on your opinion? …give lovebites? …be manipulative? …think, quickly? Your Past. Did you go through any embarrassing phases? My life. What colours have your hair been? I had blonde highlights for several years, black hair for a little bit, and red. What kind of clothes did you wear? Jeans and a tee until a few years ago when I started wearing just leggings and oversized graphic tees. I didn’t even own any sweats until a few years ago. Did you do anything you regret? I have a lot of regrets. Did you do anything you’re pleased you did? Some things. Were you much different from how you are now? Very. What was your favourite song when you were little? I liked the mainstream stuff at the time, like NSYNC, Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, etc. Take me through a nice memory of yours: I really miss my childhood days. How old were you when you had your first kiss? 16. How old were you when you had your first relationship? 16. Did you ever think you’d turn out how you have? I didn’t envision becoming a complete failure or disappointment who can’t seem to be a functioning adult. What were some interests you used to have that you don’t now? I used to actually have a social life. Did you like school? I mean, overall I guess I did. I wouldn’t have said so during it, though. I’d get so stressed, overwhelmed, and burnt out. Did you have any crushes on celebrities? Several. Your Present. What room are you in? Mine. Are you wearing any make-up? Nope. What else are you wearing? Socks, leggings, and a sweatshirt. Are you in a relationship? No. Is anybody speaking to you? (online or in the real world) No. Are you listening to music? No, I’m watching a YouTube video. What are you thinking about? Stuff that has come up in this survey. Who would you like to see right now? No one. Is the TV on? Yes. Is anything annoying you? Not at this exact moment. How are you temperature-wise? I’m fine. What kind of emotions are you currently experiencing? Meh. Is your hair up or down? Up. Where is your mother? In her bed, asleep. Your Future: What job do you want to have? I don’t know.

Describe the home you want to live in: I mean, ideally I’d have a house with an ocean view. Highly doubt that’ll ever happen, but perhaps I could at least live closer to the beach. I’d love wooden floors, a patio deck, and a balcony. Where in the world do you want to live? I think I’ll like stay in California, but definitely a different city. Maaaybe another state, but I don’t know where. Is marriage a possibility? I don’t see it ever happening for me. How about kids? No. How many kids would you want? 0. Any names that you may just name them with? Do you want any pets? I’ll always have a doggo. Do you want to live a long life? I’d like to live a productive, happy life. Do you worry about how you will look when you’re older? That’s the furthest thing from my mind. I have a lot more important things to worry about. Will you try to stay youthful for as long as possible? In some ways. What will you think when you look back on your current self? I hope one day how things are now will just be a thing of the distant past and I’ll be in a completely different place in life. How old would you say you act? I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’m 30 years old, but other times I’m like, “I feel like I’m 84″, ha. I guess that’s more physically cause of my back and hip pain and other health issues. And just some of my personality traits and interests make me feel like I’m an old lady. Otherwise, I still look around when someone says they need an adult and then I’m like, “Oh... that’s me.” I feel like I’m younger in a lot of ways as well and look like I’m still 20. Guess it just depends. Any piercings or tattoos? My ears are pierced. Ever get really hungry in the middle of the night? That happens a lot, it’s so annoying. Are you considered an attractive person by others? Ha, no. What’s your sexual orientation? Straight. How do you act when you’re drunk? I became more chatty. And probably annoying. Do you enjoy the feeling of being intoxicated? Sometimes I did, at least for a little while. Any good feeling was short lived. Describe your perfect day: A few hours at the beach. What is one thing you could never live without? Oxygen. Who is one person you could never live about? I don’t want to think about losing my parents. I can’t let my mind even go there... Where is your phone? Next to me on my bed.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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prorevenge · 6 years ago

Text

I don't like my neighbor, so I make a couple of phone calls.

I'm home while taking some time off from my job when, in the wee hours of the night, I hear music. It's loud, it's horrible, and it irritates me. But I put up with it and get a few more hours sleep after I put some earplugs in. After I wake up later that morning, I bring it up with my next door neighbors. They dredge up a tale about this scumbag.

We shall call him Dennis. He moved into my neighborhood several months ago. When he moved in, he was the nicest guy. Outgoing, social, talking to everybody in sight. That lasted about a week. \Relevant.)) Then, he defaulted to what seems like his normal behavior.

He blasts bad music that penetrates my apartment fifty meters away, most often when the sun goes down and right before it comes up, and the hours in between just to round it off.

He has a car and two motorcycles parked on the street, collecting dirt. Neighbors assume they're non-functional because they haven't been moved in three months and no one has ever seen them being used. No one can confirm that they were actually driven to their current resting place when he moved in.

He has two dogs on choke chains. He beats them more often than he feeds them; the next door neighbors can hear the yelping. I have been told that these dogs have caused injury to at least one person, if not more.

He has people going in and out of his place at all hours. Not a problem - the problem is that about half the time the people who drop by are staggeringly drunk or obnoxious, or both. Dennis himself is a mean drunk, and both neighbors and passersby have been subjected to his invective on a regular basis.

Neighbors have put in multiple complaints, but visits by local government officials* to keep the noise down are met with compliance for a few days, then it's back to whatever he was up to before.

Everybody within hearing distance hates him with a passion, but no one says a word to his face. Dennis has never said it outright and no one has found proof, but everyone suspects he's . . . an entrepreneur of controlled substances. And no one wants to point the finger because he knows who his neighbors are. \Told you it was relevant.))

No way, nobody deals in my neighborhood.

(I will not comment on the efficiency or the integrity of our local police force, but these LEOs work and have worked in an environment of temptation and corruption, with those on the bottom rung getting less than USD600 a month. (That amount figures in a 100\% salary increase went into effect just this past January 2018.) At the end of the day, they all just want to get back to their families in one piece.

PDEA, however, don't give a fuck. They'll go after anybody. Elected officials, organized crime, high rollers. Zero fucks. They're busy, as they tend to go after the big fish. The President has given them pretty much carte blanche, and he gives zero fucks too.)

I decide to roll the dice. I've had my fair share of time working with LEOs as an EMT, and I once did someone a favor a long time ago. I pull out an old, worn card out of my stack of professional contacts. Only one of the numbers is still working, but the person I spoke to gives me an updated number. I call and get in touch Mr. P.D.L. He's no longer with PDEA, but he knows someone who still is. We talk for about 30 minutes, and he asks all kinds of questions. When he's satisfied, he tells me he can't promise anything, then hangs up. Honestly, I don't expect much either.

Two weeks later: I wake up and go on my daily walk to buy some fresh bread down the street when the (cute) girl working there tells me the cops were all over the place early that morning just when they were putting in the first batch of yummy in the ovens. I don't make the connection and ask her out (again) and she turns me down (again - it's now a running joke between us) and buy my bread. The following day, next door neighbor knocks on my door and asks whether or not I knew Dennis had been arrested.

I shrug and say, "Nope, can't say I know anything about that."

The house stayed empty for a while after, but I just saw a new family moving in today which reminded me of the entire thing.

Honestly, I don't know whether or not my phone call had anything to do with Dennis' arrest, and I'm not about to call anybody in LE up to ask them. I may not have put up with Dennis' douchebaggery for any length of time, but my neighbors certainly have.

So, I'll leave it up to the sub to judge on merit whether this constitutes actual revenge or not, because \TL;DR)) I may or may not have called a drug raid on my neighbor because I (and my other neighbors) wanted a peaceful night's sleep.

*Barangay tanod, glorified Neighborhood Watch with sticks and reflective vests, a good idea in theory but mostly useless in actual practice.

(source) (story by InsaneRN)

#prorevenge #by InsaneRN #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #last10

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pingou7 · 6 years ago

Photo

A car, two cops and a stardust — a RebelCaptain road trip fic

by @pingou7 pingou for @thestarbirdfromtheashesStarbird

(aka the Road trip fic Diego Luna’s filmography made me write)

Read and enjoy, and please consider leaving me a few words.

Summary:

As the dusty roads criss under Kes Dameron’s old car, Cassian Andor lets the wind mess with his hair through the open window. Dust, sunshine, laughter, its easy to recapture the taste of days long gone.

(…)

At a gas station near Corpus Chirsti, when they climb back after taking a piss, both jump out of their skins as a random brunette, eyes thunderous, hisses dangerously from the backseat:

“Just pretend I’m not here.”

Update: Part 7 is published, give it a chance !